I'm Batman

And while you hadn’t been able to truly witness such brutality, as omegas weren’t exactly welcome to see the hand event, you had heard some alphas left the arena with broken bones, limbs hanging on by threads. One had nearly died, saved only by willingly bowing out at the last moment.

You’d heard, not that you were supposed to, that both Jacob and Curtis had won their preliminary fights, and then when they faced each other, Curtis had landed more blows and beat Jacob down; however, he didn’t leave unscathed.

“Again,” Anais called after you left your home, taking the few hours you had while your mother was out getting the finishing touches for your dress to see the alphas you hoped would win, “I do not agree with this!”

“Anais!” You turned on your heel and shot her a dirty look, growing tired of her hesitancy, “it is not up to you! And you are not following! So please, shut up!”

“Y/N!” Anais hissed and skipped down the few steps on your family’s porch, “you are throwing away an opportunity to be close to your mother! To have good alphas-“

“If you think they’re so good,” you took two small steps back toward her like a flood of emotions shot through you, “then you become their whores! You sacrifice any chance of freedom you have and become their toys!”

“Your mother only wants the best for you! And you are throwing it away! For what? So you can be publicly screwed in front of their whole village? To be a beast’s plaything?”

“Goodbye, Anais.” You turned sharply and your heel and continued on your path of stalking away from her and your home, determined to get these herbs to Curtis to help heal him.

You were in a state of mild panic. You were standing at the precipice of a reef, the deep and rolling waters that would sweep you into the currents beneath on one side of the reef, and the peace you knew you could have on the other.

And you, in your state of limited choices, we’re caught trying to paddle as quickly as you could toward the peace and calm that you knew you needed.

Your mother was trying to drag you to the deep, the rolling and powerful current that would sweep you away. She was trying to keep you close to home, to keep you close and in a village that she deemed safe. However, she didn’t think about your spirit and your needs as much as she should’ve. She only saw these alphas who were strong and capable, who had the qualities necessary to keep you safe and protected.

But that wasn’t enough.

You didn’t just want to be safe and protected; you wanted to thrive. You wanted to be a mate and a mother, but you didn’t want that to be the end of your life. You didn’t want your entire world to revolve around being an omega whose only job was to sit around and look pretty, to be silent and take care of the home.

You wanted to be a mate, to be a mother, but you also wanted to keep your spirit and the independence your father allowed you to have alive.

“Bucky,” you whispered his name as you encroached upon the camp, being ever grateful that their tent was at the end, “Bucky-“

“You shouldn’t be here.” Despite him saying that he still opened the tent by the flap and welcomed you in.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He was gruffer than Bucky, more in touch with that primal beast in all alphas, yet he wasn’t cross with you.

“I know.” You edged into the tent, first glancing at Bucky as he rests against a cot, sharpening the tips of some arrows he had pulled from his quiver. “I…have something for you.”

“Omega,” Curtis lifted his head, cuts and bruises on his cheeks and jaw had been matched with the amount on his collarbone and near his left pectoral, “you shouldn’t be here. You could be hurt.”

“It’s a mix of herbs,” you ignored his warning and walked further into their tent, further into the haze of their scents, “you can make it into a paste and use it to help heal your wounds.”

Curtis was watching you; this significant imposing alpha, who was almost twice your size, was watching every step you took. He was cautious and still as you approached as if he was worried that he would hurt you.

“Can I..?” You reached for the cut on his jaw and squealed when he caught your wrist, your eyes widening and your breath catching in your throat.

“Your scent,” he hummed and brought your wrist to his nose, inhaling to the brink of his lung capacity, filling his entire being with your scent, “is addicting.”

“Curtis-“ you started to speak, endeared by his every word. However, he wasn’t finished.

“You are a good omega,” Curtis praised you, lifting his gaze to yours, and the immediate rush of warmth that shot to the apex between your thighs had both of them growling low.

And the streak of pleasure you got from hearing his praise, their growls, had only grown in intensity when his tongue darted from his mouth, and he swiped a strip against your wrist, effectively yet temporarily, sealing his scent on you.

“You should go.” He hummed again, nuzzling your wrist before he let it go, and withdrew himself from you. “Thank you for the medicine.”

You had to heed their warnings, and you were halfway toward the exit of the flap when you remembered that you had something else to give them. You had nearly forgotten the small wrapped object you had tucked away in the pockets hidden in your dress, and you would’ve completely forgotten about it had it not been for the small wrapped gift shifting in your pocket.

“I…have something for you. Something else.” You had turned back and reached into the hidden pocket of your dress, and wrapped your hand around the small gift before you slowly pulled the item out with care.

“Omega-“

“It’s mine. Or it was…I played with it when I was a child, and I know it’s not much…” you stuttered and stepped forward, playing the small gift on one of the side tables near the closest cot, and then you stepped away.

“Omegas don’t give gifts.” Curtis stood anyway and walked toward the cot and the side table. “Alphas are supposed-“

“-to be the providers,” you finished for him and rolled your eyes, “well…this omega does…give gifts. A gift. I’m giving you a gift because you gave me-“

“You’re talking faster than you can breathe, little bear.” Bucky grinned and silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Sorry,” you muttered against his finger, shifting your weight from foot to foot, “I tend to-“

“What is this?” Curtis has unwrapped the cloth and proceeded to hold up a small wooden toy from your childhood.

The wolf in his hands was small and carved from hand with great detail; it seemed as if the wolf was real. The fur was thick, and it appeared as if a breeze was blowing the wolf’s fur. Its ears were raised and pointed. Its snot was long and detailed, with a few sharp teeth visible from the jowls.

“That is my wolf…my toy when I was a child. I…didn’t know what to give you both, and I thought…well, that maybe it was…I don’t know.”

“It’s cute,” Curtis’ lips were stretched into a smirk, and his eyes were bright as he looked your way, “suits you, little omega.”

“I was…a little obsessed with the woods when I was younger. My mother thought it meant that I was going to be a hermit or some wild runt of the woods, but my father-“ you squeaked when you felt warmth against your back and soft lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You? A wild omega of the wilderness?” Bucky’s fingers were trailing up and down your arm, leaving warmth in their wake.

“You’re giving us your childhood toy?” Curtis turned the wooden wolf over in his hands, feeling the ridges and the carved details with every stroke of his fingers.

“Yeah…I guess I just…wanted you to have something of mine…” your attention moved from one alpha to the next, examining the way Curtis seemed to feel every ridge of your childhood toy with the pads of his thumb, and Bucky had kept himself pressed against your back, appeased with how close the two of you were.

“You are adorable.” Bucky hummed affectionately, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “So sweet and cute, such a good omega.”

You shivered beneath his touch and the proximity of the two of you. It was clear to you in the most innate and basest manner possible that the omega within you recognized these two alpha’s as the best and most vital that you could submit willingly to. They were two alphas that you could seek comfort from, and you barely knew them.

Was that a pathetic comment on the alphas from your village? That you would feel more comfortable with two alphas, you barely knew?

Or rather, was it a testament to the nature of two true alphas who treat omegas like they should have?

“Thank you,” you trilled, feeling as if you could purr when he leaned in again, and his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “I should go….”

“You should,” Curtis stood and walked toward you, stopping a few inches from you and effectively trapping you between the two, “thank you for the gift, little omega.”

You felt tiny compared to them. You felt like a child when you were trapped between two broad chests, with Bucky’s chest firm against your back and Curtis’ broad chest in front, you were trapped between two powerful alphas, two alphas who made you feel as if you had been in a catatonic state for the majority of your life and only now were you able to live; to breathe.

“Promise me you’ll be gentle with it? It means a lot to me.” You mumbled as your eyes met, and Curtis drew his hand to your chin, tilting your head up.

“I’ll keep it safe.” He stepped forward, his broad chest brushing against the front of your corset, “and when it comes time for us to have a child, we’ll pass it down to them.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, and an airy gasp had slipped off your tongue when you felt that first brush of Curtis’ lips against your own.

Your gasp turned to a whimper and then a whine when Curtis deepened the kiss and slipped his hand around the back of your neck. He had to tilt your head ever so slightly, exposing the right side of your neck to Bucky, and it was mere seconds after when you felt his teeth scraping your flesh.

“This is where my mark will go,” Bucky growled lightly in your ear.

“Oh God…” your whine drew the two alphas closer, your needy sound reverberating between the two.

“When it finally comes time to feel you beneath all those layers,” Bucky squeezed your hips and drew the curve of your backside against his crotch, you felt the head of his cock twitch, “you will know real pleasure.”

The tension between you three was thick and dense, and if you were not constrained to a time crunch and fearing the wrath of your mother’s irritation, you could’ve spent all day here. But as it was, you were already gone too long.

“I have to go.” You slipped from their grasps and moved away, heat in your belly and heat inflicting your core, producing a placebo for the heat that would eventually drive you to be fucked senseless by them. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You turned your back to them and took each consecutive step away from them, despite every inch feeling painful. When you had slipped just outside the tent, you heard their voices in a quiet exchange with each other, and the resulting smile that crossed your face was bright and hopeful.

You just prayed they could pull off the other two events.

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre, it turned out, was an incredibly astute child. The snares she’d set herself, through nothing more than observation of other hunters, were comparable to ones prepared by a more experienced adult. But after a quick assessment, Rhysand understood why she had yet to catch anything; Feyre wasn’t being strategic enough about her placement.

“See these pine cone shreds, Feyre?” Rhys asked, crouched low to the ground so that he and the child were eye level.

Feyre studied the ground where he pointed.

“These are left over from a squirrel stopping to eat. Using signs like this helps you figure out where you’re most likely to catch an animal.”

Slowly, she nodded and Rhysand could practically see her mind absorbing the information, her eyes already tracking the ground for more signs of activity. She was sharp.

In a smooth motion, Rhys stood and walked towards the shrubbery. “And look here, darling. These are deer tracks.”

She fixed that same inquisitive gaze on the path he’d pointed to, studying the imprint of hooves on dirt. Then she turned those wide, blue eyes to him.

“Can I catch deer with a snare?” There was a note of awe in her voice, as if she’d never imagined such a thing were possible. But it was the hope in her voice that shattered him. For an eleven year old to be hopeful about such things, because she understood that a deer would go a lot further than a rabbit in regards to feeding her family… The burden on her shoulders was far heavier than it ought to be.

“It’s possible,” Rhys answered carefully. “But you also have to remember that anything you catch will need to be carried back to the village. If I’m not there to help, carrying a deer on your own would be very difficult. For now, it’s best to stick to smaller game.”

Feyre nodded sensibly, and again Rhysan was struck by how clever she was. Especially as she returned to where he’d pointed out the pine cone shreds and began assembling a snare in that spot, laying fresh pine cones as bait.

They laid a few more snares in places Rhysand pointed out, each time explaining to Feyre how he evaluated those spots. Each time watching her eyes grow dark and fierce with determination as she listened carefully to his instruction.

When they laid the last snare, she turned those bright eyes to him. “Now what, Rhys?”

He smiled. “Now’s the fun part, darling. Now we wait.”

Feyre’s face fell, and she crinkled her nose disdainfully. “Waiting is no fun at all.”

Rhysand struggled not to laugh. Her expression was wonderfully endearing, all the better that she was being entirely serious. “You only say that because you’ve never waited with me. If there’s one thing that gods are good at, Feyre, it’s having fun.”

Although it would be dishonest to say he knew exactly what eleven year old human girls found fun. It was almost entirely guesswork on his part, but he found success when they happened upon a large meadow, filled with wildflowers dancing in the summer breeze. Her eyes blue wide at the sight, her small body coiling with excitement as if she could hardly contain the instinct to bound and frolic through them.

Rhysand conjured a blanket for them to lay on, which caused Feyre to gush wonder.

“Magic!” she squealed.

As she prodded curiously at the fabric, Rhys lounged himself out on the ground, watching the child with an amused smile. Finishing her assessment of the blanket, she turned her attention back to him.

“How does it work?”

She sounded curiously as if an explanation was all she needed to be able to do it herself. Like how she’d learned to make snares after watching the hunters. He found that ambition charming.

“It’s a skill most Gods possess. I can summon any item from my personal trove.” He could tell she didn’t understand, and he thought very carefully about how else to explain it. “Think of it like a big, invisible pack that I carry with me. I can pull items out of it at a moment's notice, but only items I’ve already put in there.”

She smiled, plopping onto the blanket beside him. “It doesn’t get heavy?”

“No,” he answered through a smile, shaking his head. “It doesn’t weigh anything at all. Now, have you eaten yet today, little one?”

He inspected her frail figure. It was obvious that food was scarce in her household just by looking at her; the ridges of her spine poked sharply through the material of her tunic, and he expected he’d be able to count her ribs if she lifted her shirt.

Feyre looked surprised by the question. “It’s not dinner time yet,” she said, looking up at the sky to gauge the sun’s position.

She said it as though it were obvious, like she was answering a ridiculous question. As though it were unfathomable to eat at any other point in the day besides dinner. Yet, all she’d asked for at his dias was a friend. Was she oblivious to the quality of her life? Did she think all families ate only one meal each day? Feyre was an intelligent child, but perhaps if it’s all she’d ever known, she’d think her situation was normal.

Rhysand reached for the basket Feyre had been carrying through the woods, filled now with berries plucked from the bushes. He set the basket in her lap.

“Eat,” he instructed.

Feyre looked from the basket to Rhysand, her eyes swirling oceans of disbelief. “I can’t eat these,” she said. “We need to save them for my family.”

“I assure you, Feyre, your family will have plenty to eat by the end of this day. They won’t need these berries. So eat.”

He could see the longing in her eyes, could feel her hunger pangs in his stomach as if they were his own. Rhys had never known what it was to feel hungry, experiencing the sensation second-hand was certainly curious. Even more curious was the small human’s tolerance to that ever-present pain.

“I can’t,” she repeated, ignoring the shards of temptation he felt brushing against her sensibilities. She was remarkably stubborn. “I won’t.”

“I promise. I swear on my name that your family won’t go hungry.”

Feyre caved. He watched in satisfaction as she raised a handful of berries to her lips. That seemed to break a damn in the young girl, who began shoveling mouthfuls with reckless abandon. After she’d gorged on half the basket, Rhys gently took it away from her. It would be counterproductive if she couldn’t keep the food down.

“That’s enough, Feyre. I’m pleased you’re eating, darling, but anymore and you’ll be sick.”

Unperturbed from his interruption, Feyre fell back onto the blanket with a sigh of content, feeling at her stomach in fascination. Berry juice stained at her chin and lips, which were curled into a satisfied smile.

Rhysand was tempted to ask her when she’d last had a full stomach, but worried the answer would be too upsetting. He was resolved enough in ensuring that she never spent another day starving again.

Drowsy from her satiety, he watched as Feyre’s eyelids grew heavy and her breathing evened. Once he was certain the child had succumbed entirely to sleep, he cast a shield over where they lounged in the meadow and sauntered back into the woods.

No longer a companion to a young human, he returned to the woods as a predator. First Rhys checked their snares and when he found them empty, he summoned his bow. There was something exhilarating about hunting again, even if it was only after small game. So much time in the Hewn City had grown dull; it felt wonderful to use his body and engage his instincts once more.

Rhysand returned when he felt Feyre stir awake through their bond. She’d sat up on her elbows, curiously surveying the meadow. When her eyes found Rhysand, emerging from the thicket, she leapt to her feet.

“Were you checking the snares!?” Excitement bubbled in her voice.

He smiled. “You’ll be pleased to know that you make an excellent huntress, my darling Feyre. You’ve snared enough game to feed your family for the week.”

The way her face lit up allayed any guilt he felt for the lie. She’d have plenty of time to be a huntress in her own right. But for now, she needed a taste of childhood, of being gleeful and unburdened.

“I did!?”

“I’d expect nothing less from my High Priestess.”

She glanced around, looking suspiciously at his empty hands. “Well, where are they?”

Rhysand winced inwardly. He knew she wanted to see the animals she’d supposedly ensnared, but she didn’t truly know what she was asking. Eleven. Eleven was too young to be subjected to so much death, to be killing things, skinning them for meat. He’d prolong that kind of exposure as long as possible.

“I’ve put them in my invisible pocket. I’ll carry them home for you. Shall we go?”

Feyre smiled, reaching her hand towards him. Bemused by her forwardness, Rhys accepted it and let the little girl lead him out of the wood. She guided him to a small cottage, which he could tell from scent alone belonged to her family.

Rhysand let his hand fall out of her grip as they approached the door. Feyre turned to him, confused.

“Are you not going to come in?”

She didn’t understand that her family would likely be horrified to have a Night God unexpectedly enter their home and that naivety alone made his heart ache. Feyre was oblivious to the ways he’d damned her in this life. What will her family’s reaction be to the tattoos? He couldn’t decide if his presence would make their discovery better or worse, and he felt terribly emasculated being so uncertain in front of a child. Especially a child who was staring at him with so much blind faith and undeserved adoration.

“This is where I leave you for today, Feyre darling. The game you’ve won will be on your table when you go inside. If you need anything—” he tapped the center of his palm nodding at the tattooed eye on her hand—“just call to me, and I will come.”

Taking her nod of understanding as agreement, he turned on his heel.

“Rhys?” Feyre called in that small, steady voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I’m happy that you’re my friend.”

He wasn’t sure why such a simple sentiment melted his heart, but there he was, a divine immortal being, reduced to a puddle of mush by a too-honest child. He regarded her affectionately, marveling at this new spark of joy he’d found in his centuries-long existence. “I’m happy too, Feyre.”

⟡⟡⟡

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⟡⟡⟡

Things had been uneventful in the Hewn City, the home of the Night Pantheon, for the last few centuries. The deities of Night were hardly worshipped by mortals nowadays, cast aside by fear and misunderstanding. Favor had fallen instead on the Sun and Spring gods, who could help mortals in more practical ways.

Rhysand was mostly unbothered by the shift. Answering prayers was tedious work, and he was happy to lounge in peace in his moonstone palace, removed from such things. The only thing he considered a loss was that he could not visit Velaris, his sacred temple, without an offering at his dias.

While the Hewn City was built for all Night gods, Velaris temple was built specifically for Rhysand. It was his treasured home, but the last offering had been left for him over 300 years ago.

Some Night gods had taken to deceiving mortals, guiding them to their temples under pretense. Such deeds had only garnered Night gods a worse name, and had further discouraged mortals from praying at their altars. Rhys had merely accepted that he’d seen the last of Velaris, and the spirit guides who lived there.

That was, until one morning, when Rhys had suddenly been summoned to his mortal-facing throne. One moment, Rhys had been perched atop the moonstone palace, staring into the eternal night with a glass of amber liquid. The next, he was staring into the impossibly blue eyes of a small, mortal child.

She looked as surprised as he was.

“Hello there, darling,” he crooned delicately, already sensing her fear. His eyes shifted to the small piece of candy left on his altar. “Did you leave this for me?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “Is there something I can offer you in return, little one?”

With big, wide eyes, she shook her head.

Rhys frowned in confusion. “You left an offering at a temple, yet you have no wish for the gods?”

“The villagers leave offerings at all the other temples. No one leaves anything here. I didn’t want you to feel left out,” she pouted, and Rhysand was a bit struck by how adorable he thought it was.

He’d never been particularly partial to humans, but it touched him that this mortal girl was worried his feelings would be hurt. The first human to leave him an offering in 300 years, and it was out of pity…

His pride wounded, Rhys explained, “This is Velaris, the Temple of Dreams. Any human who leaves an offering here can have a wish granted. Since you left me an offering, I’m required to grant you a wish.”

It wasn’t the explicit truth. He was a god, and he could turn down a mortal’s wish if he so pleased. But for this little girl, Rhysand was resolved to give her anything she asked for.

“Then… can I wish for a friend?”

“A… friend?” Rhys repeated, a bit dumbfounded. He stepped down from his throne, kneeling before the mortal so that they were eye level. He’d never kneeled before a human before, but her request broke his heart enough that he wanted to. “Do you not have any friends, darling?”

She shook her head.

“What’s your name, little human?”

“Feyre,” she answered in that small voice. Small, yet firm. Surprisingly so, for a human child.

“Well, then Feyre. Consider your wish granted. For I, Rhysand, the God of Dreams and Starlight, will be your friend.”

“Rhy-sand,” she repeated, sounding out the syllables. They came out jumbled, thick on her tongue.

He smiled. “You can call me Rhys.”

Feyre offered him a brilliant, toothy smile. He wasn’t sure why, but it absolutely broke his heart. The first mortal to grant him passage to his home in centuries, and it was a lonely human child who asked for nothing but a friend. Struck with a sudden conviction, on his knees, in his sacred temple before his throne, he vowed to the stars and his fellow supreme deities that this mortal woman would be under his protection forevermore.

Magic twisted in the air, as the markings of such a vow etched themselves onto his skin, onto the knees on which he bowed.

He watched with dread as a similar branding traced itself along the little girl’s arm, from elbow to wrist. That had been wholly unintentional, and regretfully irrevocable.

Feyre gasped as she took note of the tattoo on her arm. Rhysand paled. Whatever life this human girl led, he’d just inadvertently made it much more difficult. Humans were small minded, and there was a reason none had prayed to his temple in so many years.

Rhys worried about the prejudice she would face to bear his markings, but she was staring at her arm in awe.

“Wow!” she cooed.

Rhysand laughed, a mirthless sound. He knew in time she’d come to resent the tattoos, once she faced the cruelty of the world on their behalf. And she’d resent him, too, for condemning her to such a fate.

“Well, Feyre darling. As the first mortal to leave me an offering in three centuries, I hereby proclaim you the High Priestess of the Velaris Temple. Congratulations on your station, you are now under my humble protection for the remainder of your life.”

“I am?” she asked, her blue eyes growing impossibly large.

Gently, Rhysand reached for her arm. She was pliant under his touch, allowing him to guide her hand to the space between them and flip it so her palm faced upwards. There, etched in black ink on the center of her palm, was a cat-like eye. He tapped it softly.

“You need only look here and speak to this eye. I will hear you, and I will come to whatever aid you require. This I vow on my divinity.”

Feyre beamed at this news. “Will I be able to hear you, if you need help?”

Rhys chuckled. This little girl was full of all sorts of surprises. A human child, offering a god her assistance. “If I need your help, Feyre darling, you will be able to hear my voice.”

She clearly didn’t understand what he meant, but she nodded anyway. Perhaps humans expected a certain vagueness from gods, or perhaps they were taught not to question divinity. Either way, it was a wise instinct and he would not correct it, lest she cross paths with the more malignant divinites of Prythian.

“I have to go fetch dinner now,” she said, looking towards the temple’s arched entryway. The sun had not yet crested in the sky. Surely, it was too early for dinner? Much closer to lunchtime.

“What do you mean, ‘fetch dinner’?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m to gather berries and set snares in the forest,” she explained, as if it were obvious.

Rhysand frowned. “How old are you, little one?”

“Eleven.”

“And praytell, why is an eleven year old human setting snares in the forest by herself? Do you not have parents to do such things?”

“I have a father,” she answered, her lower lip wobbling. “But his legs are injured. We are running out of money and my sisters won’t help. So I’ve been following the hunters in the woods and they taught me how to set snares. I haven’t caught anything yet.”

Rhys hadn’t explored much of the surrounding human lands, so he was unfamiliar with what level of danger such a task proposed to the small human. But surely, it had to offer some level of danger, unsuitable for someone so young?

Rhysand rose to his feet and extended his hand toward the little girl. “Come on then, Feyre darling. I may be a measly God of Starlight, but many of the Night divinities are associated with the Wild Hunt, and I have trained with them personally.”

Feyre blinked, clearly not registering what such a thing meant.

Rhysand rephrased, “I’m very good at hunting, and I will help you feed your family.”

With eyes wide as saucers, Feyre accepted his outstretched palm. Her hands were completely eclipsed in his own, impossibly small and soft. He was holding so much innocence, right then, and he was absolutely terrified of marring it.

“Come, Feyre,” he crooned. “Let’s teach you to be a huntress.”

⟡⟡⟡

“Hell, yeah,” Lorcan said, smugness in his voice. “How do you think I ended up with the queen of the witches and Ardalan in my bed once a month? Shared experience.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and Aelin tried to hide her smirk. Elide told her everything about what she, Lorcan, and Manon did when the queen joined them in bed, how Elide had confessed her desire for the witch and how Lorcan said that if she wanted, Manon could join them.

Aelin had found the idea arousing, not of Manon herself but of someone joining her and Rowan in bed. But she knew herself, knew she was too selfish and jealous to ask another female to join them and had thought Rowan had no inclination toward men that’d made him find the idea pleasurable. Apparently, she had been wrong.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she stopped them before they could change the subject. “You two,” she pointed at them, “Did it?”

“It?” Lorcan snorted. “How old are you?”

“Okay, Lorcan, have you fucked my husband?” She asked, face serious.

“I did. Multiple times.” He winked at her as if they shared some sort of dirty secret. The dirty secret being the man sitting next to her.

“You never told me,” she turned toward Rowan.

Her mate only shrugged, but in a way that told her that he was embarrassed and not ignoring her. “I didn’t see the point.”

“You have a thing for demi-fae,” she joked, not wanting to get him out of his misery just yet. “How was he? I always wondered.”

Both males turned toward her, eyes wide at what she just said. Rowan wasn’t breathing, trying to know if she was serious or not. Aelin played pretend as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb, and she took another sip of her drink. “Well?”

“What?”

“You wondered?” Lorcan asked at the same time.

Aelin was delighted by the attention these two men gave her. She swirled her wine, looking in Lorcan’s eyes. “What if I did?”

“Aelin,” Rowan’s tone was full of warning. He knew what she was feeling, had noticed her legs pressing together, and had seen her cheeks flush.

Yes?

What are you playing at? He didn’t look angry, just confused. Is it another one of your games?

What if it’s not?

“Will you two stop doing this? It’s so fucking weird.” Lorcan interrupted them but Rowan shushed him with a finger in the air, keeping his eyes on Aelin. Her heart was pounding, her bottom lip between her teeth.

Do you want him?

Aelin could see the hint of insecurity in his eyes. Yes, but I want you, too.

Rowan glanced at Lorcan, sitting in front of them. Are you sure?

Would it be okay with you?

Anything you want, I will give it to you. Aelin tried to look for any emotions in her mate’s eyes and face but she only saw love. Her smile widened.

Is that something he’d be into?

Rowan settled deeper in his chair, gesturing toward Lorcan with his head. Why don’t you go and ask him yourself?

His gaze was… challenging. Aelin knew Lorcan wouldn’t be stopped by Elide, their relation was open and they were happy with it, even if it was more for Elide to see other people than him.

Aelin winked at Rowan, standing up and walking toward her blood sworn, swaying her hips. He looked at her suspiciously, probably wondering what exactly she would do.

She knew he could smell her arousal, and she could smell Rowan’s too, so it meant Lorcan could too. She smirked as she stopped in front of him, he looked up at her, keeping an eyebrow arched. “Yes?”

She put a hand on his shoulder, slowly caressing the skin of his neck with her thumb. He didn’t jerk away at the contact, which was a good thing. “How good do you think I look today, Lorcan?”

Lorcan looked behind her at her mate and she didn’t need to turn to know his gaze was challenging. If Lorcan wanted to play with fire, he’d have to accept getting burned. “I don’t think Rowan ever answered you about how I am.” He said with a small smirk on his face. “And how is she? I’ve always wondered.” He asked Rowan, making her heart go wild.

Aelin heard her husband chuckle. “Both of you are good.”

“That’s a bit disappointing ‘good’, don’t you think, Lorcan?” Aelin asked, keeping her eyes on the brunette.

“That bastard has never been good with words anyway,” he said and before she could say anything else, Aelin was on his lap, straddling him as he kissed her roughly.

Aelin responded quickly, her hands finding his hair and undoing his bun, freeing his long hair. She moaned loudly, too worked up at the idea of two males worshiping her, when he grabbed her ass and made her grind on him.

Aelin had thought she would be repulsed to kiss anyone that wasn’t Rowan but she was wrong, it was even... enjoyable.

“Always knew you were a whore,” Lorcan groaned on her rosy lips when she started taking off his shirt. She didn’t want to take her time, she needed him. Them.

Aelin moaned at the name, surprised it turned her on instead of angering her. Aelin felt Rowan’s surprise, he was used to praising her, not degrading her. Lorcan only chuckled as his hands tore apart the upper part of her dress, leaving her chest exposed.

He drew back from the kiss, his gaze finding her exposed skin. His hands found her waist, his thumbs stroking the underside of her breast as he kept his eyes on them. Aelin wriggled under his gaze, moving her hips to get all the friction she would get. “I thought you were more like a big tits kind of guy,” he told Rowan, his thumbs circling her nipples.

Aelin turned her head to watch her husband, he looked like he was torn between joining them and ripping Lorcan to shreds for what he just said. He shrugged, trying to hide his emotions, and said “They’re big enough for me to fuck them.” It reminded Aelin of an afternoon a week ago, Rowan’s cock enveloped by her breasts as he thrust between them, emptying himself on her skin right after.

Rowan stood, walking toward them, and stayed right behind Aelin, so her naked back could feel his clothed front. He bent, kissing her neck as one of his hands joined Lorcan’s on her breast, squeezing it just the way she liked it. As Aelin moaned, letting her head fall on his shoulder, he looked up at Lorcan. “And you’re going to shut up and please my wife before I kill you.”

Aelin didn’t take his comment personally, while her breasts weren’t considered big, she loved them and Rowan did too. Also, Elide’s were smaller than hers, so she knew Lorcan was just trying to get some reaction out of Rowan.

“Stand,” he ordered her and while she wanted to argue, she wanted to get fucked more, so she did as he said. He parted his legs so she could stand between them as he admired her. She knew Rowan was looking at her too from above her shoulder and she felt exposed. Lorcan’s hands traveled everywhere on her torso as Rowan took her chin between his fingers and turned her head so he could kiss her. She sighed into the kiss, her muscles relaxing at the proximity of her mate. Lorcan took advantage of this moment to take off the bottom part of her dress, leaving her entirely naked in front of them. “Fuck,” the brunette swore lowly.

“Not anything else to say about my body?” She asked, breaking the kiss.

“You know how beautiful you are,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on her body. “I don’t need to feed your ego.”

Aelin huffed but didn’t reply, too busy moaning when he took a nipple in his mouth. Rowan chuckled, kissing her neck, shoulder, and every place he could reach. “But she lives on praise,” Rowan said.

Lorcan stood, pressing her between their bodies. “I don’t know… She seemed to like being called a whore.”

She wanted to scream at them that she was right here between them, that instead of talking about what she liked they could just do something. But instead, she slid a hand on the back of Lorcan’s neck, forcing him to bend so she could kiss him. It seemed to unleash him as his hands found her ass, massaging it and bringing her even closer to him. She tore apart his shirt, needing bare skin and proving he wasn’t the only one who could ruin people’s clothes.

Rowan brought her closer to him as Lorcan broke the kiss and went down on his knees before her. The sight made her core clench. She loved having powerful people on their knees for her, loved to see them bend for her. Lorcan didn’t waste time before hooking one of her knees on his shoulder and licking her.

Her hand shot in his hair, pulling rougher than necessary, as she released a long moan. It felt so good but so different from what Rowan did to her all this time. While Rowan worked with small strong licks where he knew would kill her, Lorcan acted like a starved man, his tongue touching every single place it could.

Both of Rowan’s hands held her breast, knitting them and pulling at her nipples just to make her feel that tiny bit of pain. Rowan kissed her, swallowing her moans as Lorcan kept working on her. “You like this?” Her husband asked. “You like having my brother on his knees for you?”

Aelin only moaned in response, overwhelmed when one of Lorcan’s fingers slipped into her. They were going to kill her, and she wasn’t going to ask them to stop, quite the contrary. Lorcan’s finger curled and hit the spot that had her seeing stars every single time, causing her to contract around him and tearing a groan out of his lips.

When he added a second and third one, Aelin started rocking her hips on his face, needing always more. “Please, please, please,” she begged and didn’t know what for. She opened her eyes to find Rowan watching her closely, his eyes dark from hunger and desire. You look amazing.

She moaned, Lorcan still torturing her by sucking on her clit and teasing it with his teeth. She was about to fall off the edge, she could feel the pressure building in her core. “I always wanted to see one of my brothers fucking you,” Rowan whispered in her ear. “I’ve always wanted to see how they would fuck the brat out of you.”

Aelin’s world went white as she climaxed around Lorcan’s fingers, Rowan’s words too much to handle. Her blood sworn kept licking at her, moving delicately his fingers to prolong her pleasure. After a while, she was too sensitive, trying to jerk away from his touch. He pulled out his fingers and gave her clit one last lick, causing her to whine before he stood back up. “You taste so good,” he murmured.

“Right?” Rowan asked, pride in his voice.

“Want some?” Lorcan asked but before her husband could answer, Lorcan kissed him. Rowan kissed him back without any hesitation, opening his mouth so Lorcan could slip his tongue inside. Rowan groaned, his grip on her breast tightening as he tasted her on another man’s tongue.

Aelin was more turned on than she ever remembered being. The sight of her mate kissing another man was too much to handle without touching anyone. Her hand slipped between Lorcan’s body and hers, gripping his cock through his pants.

Lorcan swore loudly, breaking the kiss with Rowan to kiss his queen. “I need you,” she whined in his mouth, earning another groan from both males around her.

Aelin worked fast to unfast Lorcan’s pants and slid them down his thighs, followed by his briefs.

She looked down at him and felt her heart stop. Gods, was it a Fae thing to be this big?

Aelin turned around, facing her husband before she tore his shirt open, too, kissing him passionately. She loved him more than anything for letting her do this, letting her have this.

Lorcan slipped a hand between his king and queen and found her clit, circling it. She moaned loudly, incapable of undoing Rowan’s belt with Lorcan’s hands between her legs. “I want to watch,” Rowan whispered on her lips. She tried to hide her shock. She thought Rowan would want to be included, not just watch, but she couldn’t ignore how the idea of him jerking off while she fucked another man turned her on.

Aelin gave her mate one last kiss and turned back to Lorcan who didn’t waste time before kissing her back, his hands sliding on her thighs, his silent way to tell her to jump and envelope his waist with her legs.

When she did, his hard length brushed her still sensitive core. Lorcan sat back on the couch, his cock hard between them as Aelin and he kept kissing and touching each other wherever they can. “Please,” she begged, needing him inside her.

Lorcan chuckled but said nothing, motioning her to stand on her knees as he gripped his cock in hand. She looked down at him, his eyes fixed on her face as he pumped. It was hot to watch him touch himself and if she wasn’t so desperate, she would have delighted in seeing this, but not today. She gripped him over his hand, stopping his movement as she lowered herself onto him. She moaned loudly, her cunt stretching. When she was sitting, his full length in her, she took a minute to adjust. She was breathless, her fists clenching in Lorcan’s hair. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Aelin whined, loving his words. She started moving her hips in small movements. Rocking back and forth, trying to get her walls to stop pulsing around him.

She intentionally clenched around him, her way to tell him he could move, and Lorcan didn’t waste time. He gripped her hips and started thrusting hard into her, delighting in the wet sounds coming from where they were joined.

Aelin turned her head to the side to find Rowan, naked, his fist wrapped around his cock as he watched her getting fucked. He was so beautiful like this, jealousy and desire written all over his perfect features.

She cried out when Lorcan’s hand came between their bodies, finding her clit, and started to play with it.

“Fuck!” Lorcan swore, his thrust accelerating. He pinched her clit, drawing just the amount of pain she loved, as she came all over his cock. Lorcan kept thrusting, not done with her, apparently.

He was over-stimulating her and didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She was crying hard, tears falling on his shoulder as she held onto him, feeling boneless.

“S-stop,” she managed to let out, and a second later, Lorcan went still and Rowan was on her side, taking her head between his hands.

“Fireheart, are you okay?”

“I need a minute,” she told him, “it’s too much.”

Rowan chuckled and kissed her tears away when he finally understood nothing was wrong with her. He was probably two seconds away from killing Lorcan. “You’re doing so good,” the brunette murmured as he kissed her cheek and neck, then, both of them were kissing her body.

It was sensual but also reassuring, both of her males showing her love and tenderness. She enjoyed it, using her hands to caress whatever part of their body she could reach as she came down from her high. They murmured words of admiration, telling her how good she was doing and how pretty she was.

Slowly, she started rocking her hips again, only feeling pleasure and not pain anymore. Lorcan’s hands on her hips tightened their grip, letting her go at the rhythm she wanted. Rowan stayed behind her, his hands wandering on her torso, soon finding her breasts.

Aelin nodded toward Lorcan, telling him he could move, and he did. He thrust hard into her, but not as hard as before. Aelin let her head fall on Rowan’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she focused on the pleasure they were giving her.

So slowly, Rowan slid his hand down her stomach and found her clit, circling it and playing with it in a way he knew drove her crazy. “Oh.” She moved her hips for Rowan to keep going, a silent beg for him not to stop.

“I wonder…” He murmured in her ear and she knew that whatever he was going to say would be the death of her. “Could you take us both? Right here?” He asked, slipping a finger into her. She cried at the added strength, at the pleasure Rowan’s finger added to Lorcan’s cock brought her.

But both of them…? She didn’t know if it was even possible, but these two males knew more about this than her. She turned her head toward her husband as Lorcan slowly stopped moving into her but she was too busy stressing out to notice.

“I’m- I’m not sure.”

Rowan gave her a reassuring smile. “Are you afraid?”

“Is it even possible?” She asked, making Lorcan chuckle as he sat straighter, taking one of her nipples between his teeth.

“Soaked like you are now? Yes, it is.”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t think about anything but me and Lorcan in you, does it turn you on?” He asked and when she imagined it, imagining being taken by the two most powerful men in her kingdom, she couldn’t help but clench around Lorcan. Lorcan chuckled at it, letting her nipple go with an audible popping sound.

“It does.” He said, giving her an answering thrust. Aelin nodded, confirming what he said.

Rowan smiled, his finger sliding just a little further in her. She moaned as he curled it, hitting a spot that had her screaming. “It’s gonna hurt, but the kind of pain you enjoy. Trust me, if I feel like it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

She looked him in the eyes and murmured, “I trust you.”

Rowan kissed her and pulled out his finger, standing behind her. Her eyes were on Lorcan now, seeing a little bit of hesitation on his part. She lowered her mouth onto his, whispering, “I trust you, too.”

And it was true. Less than she trusted Rowan, obviously, but she still did. Lorcan smiled, using the grip on her hips to make her move on him. “Then relax a bit.”

She understood why very soon, feeling Rowan’s hand on her back forcing her to bend more toward Lorcan so she was exposed to Rowan. She wasn’t ashamed of the view he had, gods knew he had seen and felt everything about her.

Slowly, Rowan slipped a finger behind Lorcan’s cock and then a second one. She whimpered on Lorcan’s shoulder at the slight bit of pain. Lorcan stroke her back, murmuring words of encouragement for her to relax.

She took a deep breath and did as he said, letting Rowan slip in a third finger. “Of, fuck,” she cried out.

“That’s it, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured on the skin of her neck. His praise encouraged her, keeping her lower parts as relaxed as possible. He moved his fingers slightly, stretching her, and then he pulled them out.

Lorcan took her face between his hands, kissing her deeply. A hand, she didn’t know who it belonged to, found her clit and started pinching it, bringing waves of pleasure to her core.

Slowly, she felt Rowan’s head at her entrance and braced herself for the pain. The tip came in first, stretching her more than what his fingers did. But Aelin was too overwhelmed by the small thrusts of Lorcan’s cock, the attention her breast and clit received, and Lorcan’s tongue teasing hers to wonder about the pain too much.

In rhythm with Lorcan’s thursts, Rowan entered her more and more until he was buried into her to the hilt. She screamed, the pressure almost too much. Her walls were spasming around both their cocks. “Fuck,” Rowan swore loudly, which was rare for him.

She opened her eyes to see Lorcan’s pained face, his hands shaking on her skin, it probably took everything in him not to come right there.

Aelin only knew she was crying when she tasted the salt of her tears on her lips, opening her mouth to try to take her breath. It was Rowan’s hand on her clit, pressing and circling it and never stopping while he gave everyone time to adjust.

Both men looked at each other over her shoulder and together they almost entirely pulled out before entering her again. She was screaming as they did it again, and again, the line between pain and pleasure disappearing. She clawed at Lorcan’s chest and Rowan’s arm circling her, trying to hold onto something.

“You feel better than I imagined,” Lorcan told her, each one of his thrusts getting harder than the one before. Fuck, fuck, fuck, if they started speaking she wouldn’t last much longer.

They seemed to know this, Rowan telling her “Gods, you take us so well.” He groaned in her ear, letting out all the usual sounds he made in bed. Sounds that made her crazy.

She wanted to warn them, tell them she was close, but she could barely breathe. They hit so deep in her, every single time.

“I can’t fucking wait to fill you up, princess,” Rowan told her and it was the end for Aelin, imagining both of them filling her up.

She shattered around them, tightening so much they could barely move. She didn’t feel anything else but Lorcan coming first, joined by Rowan seconds after.

She was panting for breath, and after what felt like hours, Rowan pulled out of her and so did Lorcan. Aelin was boneless, falling on Lorcan’s chest as she was still shaking, feeling their seed leak out of her.

She would be sore for days after this.

Both males kissed her, stroking her body. Rowan took one of their shirts and cleaned her up then did the same to Lorcan. “I love you,” her mate murmured on her hair as he kissed her head. She wanted to say it back but nothing came out of her mouth, but he knew.

For hours, the three of them cuddled on this couch, whispering low words of love to the other.

————

You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

When you were younger you had grown up jealous of your older sister. Beautiful Elain.

She had everything you wanted, clear skin and shining hair, she had a polite smile and never embarrassed herself while getting excited. You were the youngest of your family, and coincidently the smartest, but you never had the grace your elder sisters carried.

Your childhood was different as well, you would steal books from stalls, your hands quick and unnoticeable, much alike the rest of you. You became the mother in the house, where Feyre protected the three of you and kept you fed, you kept them smiling, pushing your sisters needs above your own and letting their problems weigh on your shoulders instead of theirs.

You would make handmade ointments with plants when they got ill. You would sit and let them rant to you. You calmed Nesta down and helped Feyre keep the house running, always ensuring it was clean and as warm as you could make it. And you really tried.

You tried not to despise them for allowing so many burdens to fall on your shoulders. You tried not to hate Nesta for never uttering a word of thanks when you cleaned up after her, and you tried not to let Elain’s careless words about your figure get to you. But a child can only take so much, so when you were forced into the cauldron, crying out for your elder sisters, you decided you wouldn’t allow yourself to be walked all over again.

But alas, after the war things carried on as usual.

You were cleaning up after them again. Tidying Nesta’s apartment in silence while she partied, helping Feyre through her trauma with comforting words, braiding Elain’s hair back and trying to ignore her pointed glances at the dinner table.

Not everything was the same though. A major difference stood in the form of the spymaster for the night court, Azriel. Soon after you had changed you had realised. He was your mate.

At first you were elated, finally having something to yourself, someone you didn’t have to share, someone who was wholly yours. You imagined your life with him; dates and flowers, picnics and falling asleep under the stars, soft declarations of love and most importantly, someone to finally defend you, someone on your side.

But in the horrible pattern that was your life, nothing turned out that way. You went to speak to him a couple weeks after you realised, steeling your nerves, and trying to quell the nausea in your stomach. But when you mustered the courage to mutter a small “hi,” he barely responded, his gaze trained on Elain.

And then you realised, a realisation that shuddered through your entire body and broke your heart so badly you knew it would never fully heal.

He was in love with Elain. Your mate was in love with your sister.

You cried all night, a hand over your mouth to keep the sobs quiet, never wanting to burden anyone the way you were sure you already did. But the next morning, you rose. You washed your face, wiping away any stray tears and you plastered on the perfectly taught smile, hiding any signs of your struggle.

You truly thought no one had noticed but Mor knew acting when she saw it, and you were a master. She saw the way your smile drooped slightly, the way your eyes would darken, loosing the light that often danced in them. She heard your words lose character as people stopped listening, and she watched as you allowed yourself to be talked over, corrected, changed, with no fight.

At first she just thought that you had gone through such a traumatising experience that it was sticking but when even after the war you never truly smiled the way you used to, hiding in your room and spending your days at a piano, or with your head buried in a book, she knew it had to be more than that.

Then she noticed the way you started dressing primarily in an oversized hoodie you had stolen from Cassian, the jumper swallowing you whole. The one time she saw you out of it she understood why. She was walking past your door and saw it cracked open, watching as you stood in front of the mirror, crying as you examined your changed, body and the dried blood on the inside of your wrists. You were thin, too thin.

She confronted you the next day, your body feeling too hot as she asked you if you were okay, holding you when you broke down in tears. She stayed with you for hours, stroking your back gently when you whispered to her.

“He’s my mate.”

That confused her and she hummed, pushing you to elaborate when you spoke.

“Azriel. He’s my mate and he’s in love with Elain.” Mor looked in your eyes then as you sat up and her heart clenched painfully as she realised the extent of the pain you were in. “I think I could survive if it were just you he was still in love with. Or Amren, or anyone else. But it’s always her, they always choose her.”

“(Y/n)” she whispered, no idea what to say.

“The first guy I ever dated broke up with me after months because he was just trying to get closer to Elain all along. And I try so hard, I try to be pretty like her, and I try to be polite and different. But I can’t.”

“You don’t have to different sweetie, you’re an incredible woman.” Mor stroked your hair as you huffed out a bitter laugh.

“Men don’t usually want women with opinions, women who are smarter than them. They want pets, docile pets who will sit and look pretty while they impress everyone.” You knew you were being unfair, that Azriel was nothing like that, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I know, but men like that aren’t worth your time. Have you told him?”

“He doesn’t speak to me.” You shook your head, “I tried, a bit after I first found out. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her for long enough to have a conversation like that. And I don’t want to tell him only to see the disappointment.”

Mor wanted to throttle Azriel for hurting you so much. You were so kind, putting everyone’s needs above your own, always offering to do the jobs no one wanted, or to help someone with anything. But this time she decided you would have to put yourself first.

“You need to tell him, I think he likes you more than you think,” she smiled softly, remembering all the times she had caught him laughing at your jokes, or the subtle expressions of awe when they watched you explain complicated theories and ideas to them.

But you shook your head again, looking down sadly. “He’s too good, and he’s been through so much. He deserves to be happy, and I will not take that from him.”

Mor wanted to say more, but instead just squeezed your hand before standing to go get you some food. You and Rhysand really should form a club she thought as she left the room, not missing the way your stare turned blank as the emotions drained out of you.

--

When Nesta started her training, Mor suggested you went. She had become your best friend and desperately wanted to see you get better, so after much pleading you had conceded.

Nesta and you had started getting along better which also helped. Shared dark humour and a knack for dragging men’s ego through the mud giving you much to laugh about. She had looked at you differently since the day you took your hoodie off during training, revealing your body which was building itself back into shape, but also the thin, white scars that littered your forearms.

Cassian and Azriel also noticed, but while Cassian pulled you into a bone crushing hug after training when you were alone, Azriel simply pondered how he hadn’t noticed.

The truth was he really liked you. Elain was beautiful and the perfect distraction form Mor, she also fuelled the perfect image in his head of his own Archeron mate. But you were so funny, sending jabs Cassian’s way to ensure he stayed grounded, and you were so smart, always having a plan, and seemingly knowing the perfect quote for every occasion. And as the youngest, sometimes they all got glimpses of your childlike joy, your innocence astounding when you spoke about the things you loved, your hands moving so quickly as you explained complicated things no one else could make heads or tails off.

His crush on you grew as he got to know you better, and he started wishing he had noticed you first. But you didn’t often speak to him, shying away and tucking your arms around yourself, almost shielding yourself from him.

Once, when you were searching for paper, needing a list to organise your thoughts and to fully plan your day, your brain so loud that you couldn’t decipher it, her had pulled a notebook and pen out of his pocket. He had begun noticing the way you scribbled on whatever you could find and when he heard you joke about getting ink poisoning from the amount of writing on your hands and legs he had gone and bought you a notebook.

You had thanked him and gone to hand it back when you were finished but he insisted you keep it, blushing when you looked up at him with an unreadable expression in your eyes. Scrambling for an excuse he had mentioned something about Elain mentioning you needed one, growing even more confused when your face fell, your unreadable mask slipping back on as you thanked him again and excused yourself.

You had cried again that night, new marks joining the old scars as you tore out the page of your diary counting your days clean.

The next day at training your hoodie was back on.

--

Your relationship with Elain was worse than ever. You kept snapping at her, no longer helping her with all her problems. Mor insisted that you needed to learn how to say no, but Elain was looking at you like you were someone completely new. And in a way you were.

But that didn’t stop the backhanded compliments she gave. You knew she never meant them in a mean way, but everyone was like another dagger being plunged into your heart.

How could she not know, how was she so oblivious to how you compared yourself to her, the childhood jealously never leaving. You had grown into your figure and had become an impressive woman yourself but old insecurities were never going to leave you and so you continued hiding, seeing your family less and less.

Feyre had started joining Mor when she came to see you. The three of you sitting together and talking about anything, they would take you shopping, you would sing to them, laughing when Mor joined in horribly off-key. Feyre and Rhysand had found out about Azriel being your mate. You struggled keeping things from Feyre, her motherly tone always managing to pull secrets from you and of course she struggled even more with her mate.

She had apologised profusely when it slipped out, Rhys joining you shopping. But you had assured it was okay, not without a million threats directed Rhys’ way, swearing him into silence.

You had also started training more with Azriel, much to your dismay and his delight. He had noticed your quick fingers and talent when it came to sleight of hand, laughing when he asked and found out how you used to steal books, never getting caught by simply pretending you were illiterate. That had confused him and led to you explaining how you would wander off and explore as a child, only to be mistaken for a pupil in a local school you couldn’t afford. By the time the mistake was realised you could already read, and a kind teacher tutored you until you could write as well.

He had smiled at you then, joking that you could probably have his job and you had truly laughed, leaning into him slightly making his heart warm. But as silence fell again and you remembered the truth you excused yourself, desperate to get away and the frail relationship you had formed with him during training turning back to ice.

--

It was a regular afternoon when it all came to climax.

You had ventured out of the comfort of your room, the sarcastic comments about it only making your anxiety skyrocket as you wondered why you bothered at all. But you just laughed lightly and sat down, pulling your knees to your chest as you buried yourself in your favourite book.

“Are you ever going to put a different bit of clothing on?” Elain asked suddenly and you felt the heat spread through your cheeks as everyone looked over, Mor’s eyes panicked.

“I-I like this one,” you tried to explain, already on the verge of tears, your emotional state so fragile that a couple harsh words would send you spiralling.

“I get that, but sometimes don’t you want to dress more ladylike?” her tone was still gentle but your hands shook as you moved to explain yourself.

“Well gender isn’t real so what I wear doesn’t determine that at all and I figured I should wear something I’m more comfortable in,” your words were rushed, and you could feel your face getting unbearably hot, your knee tapping to release some of the nervous energy.

“What do you mean gender isn’t real?” Cassian asked, tone incredulous.

“Well it’s a social construct, nothing about it actually determines how you should act, dress or, anything like that.” You explained, hating all the eyes being trained on you as Cassian nodded.

“You could still try I mean,” Elain tried to explain, “Ladylike was poor choice of words but I mean dress well, look after yourself.”

“I have been!” you tried to defend yourself, but your voice was getting smaller as you shrunk into yourself.

“Oh please explain how,” she sounded angrier now and Feyre said her name in warning. Elain was unbelievably sweet, but Feyre and Nesta had noticed her habit of picking on you as a child, just little things, the only person she ever truly argued with was you.

“I ate today,” you stated, and she frowned.

“That’s not what I meant,” she tried to explain but you could feel the anger building in you.

“Then what did you mean?!” you shouted, emotions tumbling over, “What do I have to put on a pretty dress every day? Wash my face?  Get something productive done? Is it not enough that some days I get out of bed when I think I can’t? Or that I eat a full meal? Or how about the fact that I’ve gone two weeks without cutting my fucking wrists?!”

Elain physically stumbled back when you stood up, your rage growing with in you. “Everything I do is to make you or someone else happy, but I have been trying so hard to make myself happier and I can only do so much at once, so don’t you dare try tell me I’m not trying because you have no idea how much fucking effort I am putting in to staying alive every day!”

The tears that had grown in your eyes were spilling over as Feyre stood and went to take your arm, but you wrenched out of her grip. “You ruined me! I did everything for you, I helped with everything, and you act as if I am this fucking spoiled brat, as if I didn’t practically raise you!” you whirled around then, pointing a finger at Nesta too. “I was the youngest, yet I had to deal with everything and then I finally take some time to deal with my own problems and suddenly I’m this monster who isn’t even trying to be presentable!”

You huffed a laugh as you looked around the room at the shocked faces, “Well surprise everyone! This is what I’m actually like, and you wonder why I fucking act around you all.” You were so full of self-loathing that each words made more tears flow over.

Then Azriel said your name softly, moving to stand and you moved away so fast, flinching as if he was going to strike you. “NO, you- you don’t get to,” you choked on your words and Feyre grabbed your arm again as he looked at you, confusion written all over his face.

“(y/n) I deal with this stuff too, lets just go talk about it,” he begged. He wasn’t sure why he hated seeing you hurt so much but t was tearing at him and all he wanted was to pull you into his chest and protect you from the world.

Instead of replying however you just turned into your sisters’ arms, allowing her to lead you away from the room as they all sat in silence, Elain wiping stray tears from her face.

“How did none of you notice,” Mor asked quietly and Azriel felt guilt sear through him.

“We did, but when we spoke to her she promised us she was better,” Cassian explained, nodding in Azriel’s direction.

Nesta huffed a laugh at that, “She was a natural born liar.”

--

When Elain came to speak to you, you had both cried as you apologised to each other, frail arms being wrapped around shoulders. You had both been lying together in silence afterword’s, your older sister stroking your hair lightly when you told her.

“He’s my mate,” she looked down in confusion when you spoke, but you continued. “He’s my mate but either he doesn’t know, or he knows and doesn’t care, because either way he’s in love with you not me.”

Elain didn’t know what to say as she realised who you meant, “How long have you known?” she asked, and you laughed bitterly.

“Since we got turned, I tried to tell him, but it was pointless, he doesn’t want me.” You whispered, eyes filling with tears you thought you must have cried out by now.

Elain felt guilt seize her and leant down, pressing a kiss into your hair, “I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” you shook your head, “No its no one’s fault just bad fucking luck.”

She sighed, stroking a hand over your head as she let you cry to her, finally paying you back for all the times you had done this for her.

--

Azriel wasn’t in a much better state. The bond had clicked, and you were nowhere to be seen.

It seemed like he was being kept away from you. You weren’t coming to training anymore, instead working out with Mor in the evenings. You also were eating separately, from him at least, and every time he asked to see you someone came up with a half assed excuse.

He wasn’t stupid, he had realised what had happened. But he was aching as he desperately wanted to fine you and apologise over and over again. He would fall to his knees and beg your forgiveness, offer you his entire heart willingly. He trusted you could look after it.

But whenever he thought of you, of his smart little mate, the smile that came at the thought of you was always wiped away quickly as he remembered that you had similarly tried to give him your heart, only for him to drop it onto the floor as he chased another. And when he had come back to see it again, it was no surprise that you would lock it away, protect its broken shape, only allowing yourself near it not realising you were doing most of the abusing.

“I need your help,” he had finally said to Rhysand, his brother looking up slightly shocked. “She’s my mate, and I’m pretty sure knows, and I’ve really fucked up.”

“I know,” Rhys said and Azriel’s heart clenched.

“How long has she known?” he asked, fearing the answer.

“Since they were turned, Feyre told me that she tried to tell you but…” he trailed of and Azriel slumped forward in his seat.

“What do I do?” he asked, desperation lacing his words and Rhys sighed.

“You need to speak to her,”

“I’ve tried, were you aware that the Archeron’s are a rather stubborn family,”

Rhys laughed at that, “I’ve noticed, what if we found away to draw her out, official ceremony?”

“No, too many people, she doesn’t like crowds,” Azriel was looking out the window as he came up with ideas, not noticing the soft look his brother gave him.

“You seem to know her well,” he commented and Azriel laughed,

“I’m not very good at showing my feelings, and to be honest I didn’t know what my feelings for her were. I’d never felt anything like it.”

Rhys nodded, “I have no idea then, I’m sorry.”

Azriel shook his head with a laugh, “you know who’d come up with the perfect plan for this.”

Rhys laughed at the irony, “Good thing in her place you have Cass and I, we’re both experts in romantic gestures,”

“Yeah you tell yourself that.”

“Well we’re experts in distracting Archeron women then.” That Azriel couldn’t disagree with.

--

The next morning Azriel sat down at his desk, pen in hand. He needed a plan and you always got one by writing down your thoughts so he thought, since you were mates, maybe the same could help him.

He put a bullet point list down, writing down everything he needed to do in neat, perfect handwriting, then he added small boxes next to it. He smiled when he was done, the list looking similar to the ones he found scribbled around the house. He had often picked them up, smiling at the notes you had written saying things such as ‘go drink some water u dehydrated bitch’ or his personal favourite ‘punch a misogynist’ though sadly that one hadn’t been ticked off.

He then set off, heading to the local library where he found what he had been looking for. It was the original copy of your favourite book, the pages yellowed and creased but he new you would adore it. He picked up a coffee and some sweets for you on the way home, steeling his nerves as he wandered up to your bedroom.

He rapped his knuckles against the door gently, unable to help the smile that came across his face when he heard your soft steps cross the room. You opened the door, peaking out with wary, red eyes and his heart panged when he realised you had been crying.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently, showing you the coffee and you nodded, opening the door further to allow him to step into your room, closing the door behind him as he took in your primary living space.

The room was incredible. You had incredibly lifelike, black, and white pictures on your walls, ones of the family but also ones of parties, and beautiful landscapes. There was also a considerable amount of art on the walls, some in Feyre’s style, but the others he presumed you had done yourself, considering the paint-stained desk.

He reached a hand to one of the black and white pictures in awe as you came up besides him. “They’re called photographs, I read about the concept and figured it out. They take a while to develop, and I can’t get colour but it’s a work in progress.”

He turned to you in shock, “How does it work?”

You picked up a funny looking, roughly made object and tapped a glass lens on it, “This takes all the light rays bouncing around and redirects them to a single point, creating a sharp image. From there it can be transferred onto this,” she picked up a flimsy looking material, “Then the memory exists in physical form.”

“You figured all that out yourself?” he stared at her in wonder as she shrugged.

“As I said, I read a theory about it in one of Rhysands books, I just had to figure out glass density and to find a light sensitive material.” You were blushing under his stare, embarrassment flooding through you. “It’s really just a work in progress.”

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, and you turned away, hurt clear in your eyes.

“What do you want Azriel?” he bit down on his tongue as disappointment and regret flooded through him.

“I found this at the library, and I knew it was your favourite, and then I was stopping by anyway,” he gestured to the sweets and coffee he laid on your desk and you smiled at him softly, muttering a small ‘thank you’.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, holding the coffee that you noticed was your exact order, and trying not to let his acts of kindness get to you.

“I’m so sorry.” His words cut through the silence, and you inhaled sharply, moving to take a sip to avoid having to speak, or look up for that matter. “I know that doesn’t nearly cut it and I’ve been such a jerk and treated you like shit, but I need you to know that I love you. I have for a while.”

You were crying again and Azriel hated himself for fucking it up so much again. “No, no you love Elain,” you tried to tell him, shaking you head.

His heart broke and he knelt before you, lifting your face with his hands as you stared at him with tear filled eyes. “I love you (y/n), you’re my mate, you’re the girl I love.”

“You know.” Your face fell completely, and you pushed him away, standing and moving to the other side of the room.

“I do, but it doesn’t change anything, I loved you before I knew.” You were shaking your head as he spoke, sobbing into your hands.

“NO! No you’re in love with the idea of me, you’re in love with having a mate. There’s a difference.”

He moved closer to you again, reaching for you, his eyes filling with tears when you pulled away again, moving as far away from him as you could.

“Let me explain (y/n), baby please. I understand what I was feeling now, I even made a list,” he begged, nerves easing when you smiled slightly at the mention of a list, so he continued, “I wasn’t in love with Elain, not really. Like you said, I was in love with the idea of her, of having a mate, but then I started speaking to you more and I thought it was just a crush, but I actually love you. I loved you first because I never loved Elain, not really.”

“You’re just saying that” you said, voice sad and broken as he stepped closer, relief coursing through him when you didn’t run again, pulling you into his arms and holding you gently as if you were made of fine china.

“I’m not, I’m not. I love you.” He whispered into your hair as you wound your arms around his torso, chin tilting up to look at him through glassy, tear filled eyes, “And I will spend the rest of my life making up for hurting you.”

He leant down, resting his forehead against yours and you inhaled shakily, “I love you, so much,” you whispered, your voice rough from crying.

He couldn’t help his grin as he brought a hand to your face, wiping away the stray tears before tilting your head up from your chin and pressing a gentle kiss to your mouth. You instantly melted against him, moulding into one as you finally kissed, all your love being pushed from one to another as you finally joined together as one.

You pulled away all too soon for his liking and he whined but you just giggled, pulling him over the mirror that stood on your floor, grabbing the strange device, and posing him so he stood behind you, rms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your head. You lifted the device and held it to your eye, squinting slightly before pressing a button on top, the two of you standing in that form for a few moments more.