#mate!reader

Rhysand x obliviousmate!reader

Summary: You grow up believing Rhysand is simply a naturally protective, affectionate friend, not realizing his behavior toward you is different from everyone else, until a confrontation forces the truth of his feelings and your connection to surface.

Warnings: trauma references, protective!Rhysand, smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), praising, mate… kink?

Authors note: I was given a request for this and I hope I achieved it!! I had so much fun writing this especially because I had an idea for one like this!! Hope yall enjoy🫶🏻

Main Masterlist:

Taglist: @booksstarryskies, @spookypersondinosaur

✷☽✦☾✷☽✦☾✷

From the outside, your place in the Night Court had always looked effortless—natural, even. You'd met Mor first, her bright laughter and easy confidence drawing you in before you'd even realized you were being claimed as one of her own. And through her, you'd met him—Rhysand.

At first, he'd just been Mor's cousin. The High Lord of the Night Court, yes, but also the male lounging with a smirk in the corner, violet eyes too knowing, too amused. You had expected distance, formality—something sharp and untouchable.

Instead, he had smiled at you like you already belonged.

It had been easy after that. Conversations that slipped from polite to playful without you noticing. Nights spent in the House with Mor that somehow always ended with Rhys nearby, leaning against a doorway or draped lazily across a chair, listening more than speaking. Then came Cassian, loud and impossible to ignore, dragging you into sparring rings and laughter; Azriel, quieter, shadows curling as if they were just as curious about you as he was; and eventually Amren, who studied you like a puzzle she hadn't decided was worth solving—yet.

You fit.

And Rhysand... Rhysand had simply always been there.

Your friendship with him had grown into something softer than the others, though you'd never quite been able to name why. It wasn't louder like it was with Cassian, or edged with the same quiet understanding you shared with Azriel. It wasn't teasing like Mor's affection, nor sharp like Amren's approval. It was something else entirely—something that felt... constant.

But you never questioned it. Because as far as you knew, this was just who he was.

Kind. Attentive. Warm in a way that didn't quite match the power humming beneath his skin.

There had been a night—one of the earlier ones—when sleep had abandoned you entirely.

The shadows of Velaris had felt too deep, too quiet, your thoughts turning restless and sharp. You hadn't meant to seek him out. Hadn't even realized your feet had carried you there until you were standing outside his door, hand hovering uselessly in the air.

It had opened before you knocked.

Rhys had taken one look at you—really looked—and whatever teasing remark had been on his lips disappeared.

"Come here," he'd said softly.

No questions. No hesitation.

You'd barely made it inside before he guided you toward the bed, pulling you down beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm had come around you, firm and steady, anchoring you against his chest as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

"Just sleep," he murmured, voice low against your hair.

And you had.

Safe. Completely, undeniably safe.

You hadn't thought twice about it afterward. Hadn't wondered why the High Lord of the Night Court had stayed awake half the night just to keep you grounded, his fingers occasionally brushing your arm as if to reassure himself you were still there.

That was just Rhys.

Another time, the memory surfaced more sharply.

A gathering—crowded, louder than you liked. Too many unfamiliar faces, too many eyes lingering a second too long. You'd tried to brush it off, to stay close to Mor and laugh it away, but at some point you'd drifted just far enough.

Far enough for someone to step in too close.

The male had been charming at first, his smile easy, his words smooth. But then his hand had lingered at your waist. Then your arm. Then just a bit too tight when you tried to pull away.

You hadn't even had time to react.

Rhys was simply... there.

One moment you were trapped in that uncomfortable space, and the next his presence had slid between you like a blade wrapped in silk. His hand settled at the small of your back—warm, grounding, possessive in a way that somehow felt more protective than anything else.

"Is there a problem?" he'd asked, voice pleasant.

Too pleasant.

The male had stiffened, muttered something you didn't catch, and quickly excused himself.

And just like that, it was over.

Rhys had glanced down at you then, his expression softening instantly, the tension draining from his shoulders as if it had never been there at all.

"You alright, darling?"

Darling.

You'd smiled, brushing it off. "I'm fine. Thank you."

His hand hadn't left your back for the rest of the night.

You hadn't questioned that either.

That was the thing about Rhysand.

He always seemed to know where you were. Always seemed to appear when you needed him—sometimes before you even realized you did. A steady presence at your side, a quiet touch guiding you through crowded rooms, a voice at your ear when things became too much.

He called you darling like it meant nothing.

Like it was just another habit.

Like the way his hand would rest at the small of your back, thumb occasionally brushing absentminded circles against your skin. Like the way his gaze would find you in any room, no matter how crowded. Like the way his voice would soften—just slightly—whenever he spoke to you.

It was easy to assume it wasn't special.

Because he was kind to everyone, wasn't he?

A good High Lord. A good friend.

You'd seen him smile at others. Laugh with them. Offer that same effortless charm that made people feel seen, important, safe.

So this—whatever this was between you—it couldn't be anything different.

Couldn't be anything more.

...Right?

You didn't notice the way Cassian sometimes choked on his drink when Rhys's hand lingered too long at your back.

Didn't catch the looks Mor and Azriel shared when you brushed it off so easily, when you laughed and leaned into Rhys without a second thought.

Didn't hear Amren's quiet, exasperated sighs.

And you certainly didn't see the way Rhysand watched you when you turned away—like you were something rare, something his, something he was holding himself back from claiming with every ounce of restraint he had.

Because to you, it was simple.

Rhysand was your friend.

And he was like this with everyone.

Wasn't he?

✷☽✦☾✷☽✦☾✷

The music in Rita's pulsed through your veins, warm and dizzying, the kind that made it easy to forget everything except the moment you were in. Laughter spilled from every corner, bodies moving, lights glinting off polished wood and silk and skin. It was loud—but in a way that felt alive.

And you had been enjoying it.

Dancing had turned into laughing, which had turned into accepting a drink from a male whose name you had caught once... and then promptly forgotten. He was charming in that overly confident sort of way, leaning in just a little too close as he spoke, clearly very pleased with himself.

"...and then I told him, if you want someone who can actually win, you come to me," he was saying now, grin wide as he gestured with his glass.

You smiled politely, nodding along, only half listening—

A hand waved in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping back into the moment.

"Still with me?" he teased.

"Yes—sorry," you said lightly, adjusting your grip on your drink.

But something felt... off.

A prickle at the back of your neck. A sensation you couldn't quite name.

Eyes.

You turned instinctively.

And there—across the room, in the familiar booth tucked slightly away from the chaos—was him.

Rhysand

He was already watching you.

Of course he was.

One arm draped lazily over the back of the booth, posture relaxed, expression composed—but his gaze was fixed. Sharp. Unmoving. Like the rest of the room had faded into nothing.

You softened immediately, a small smile tugging at your lips as you lifted your hand in a subtle wave.

Rhys returned it just as easily.

And then his voice slipped into your mind, smooth as velvet.

You alright, darling?

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sound of it.

I'm fine, you sent back, easy and unbothered.

You didn't miss the way his gaze lingered a second longer before he leaned back slightly, though he didn't stop watching you.

"—so I was thinking," the male in front of you cut back in, pulling your attention away. "We could—"

You hummed in response, barely registering the question as your eyes drifted back to Rhys again.

It was... hard not to look at him.

Something about the way he was watching you tonight—more focused than usual, maybe. Or maybe you were imagining it.

The male shifted closer.

His fingers came up, tilting your chin back toward him.

Your attention snapped.

And before you could even react—

Rhys's voice, sharper this time, slid through your mind.

Why is he touching you?

You blinked, a little startled at the edge in his tone.

He's funny, you sent back, still trying to keep the moment light. I'm giving him a shot.

There was a pause.

A quiet, heavy pause.

Then—

Come back here, darling. We miss you.

We.

You glanced toward the booth again, catching a glimpse of Cassian's barely contained grin, Azriel's shadows curling just a little tighter, Mor watching with open amusement.

You hesitated.

"I was actually wondering," the male said, leaning in closer, voice lowering, "if you wanted to head back to my place."

That made you pause fully.

"I... don't really do that," you admitted, offering a small, apologetic smile.

His expression shifted immediately—annoyance flickering through.

"That's what they all say," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Something in your chest tightened.

You leaned back slightly, uncomfortable now, ready to excuse yourself—

But his hand didn't drop.

Instead, his grip on your chin tightened just enough to make your breath hitch.

And then—

He was gone.

Or rather—blocked.

A presence slid between you so seamlessly, so suddenly, it was like he had always been there.

Rhys.

"I've been looking for you," he said smoothly, voice calm, pleasant—too pleasant.

His hand found your back instantly, warm and steady, grounding you as he guided you just slightly behind him.

Shielding.

You didn't even think about it.

Didn't question it.

You just exhaled softly, tension melting from your shoulders as you leaned back into him without hesitation.

Relief flooding through you like it always did when he was close.

The male's attention snapped fully as Rhys stepped in front of you.

He pushed to his feet quickly, circling around as if to reinsert himself into the moment—but the second his eyes landed on who stood between you, all confidence drained from his face.

Recognition hit.

Hard.

Rhys only smiled.

That easy, lazy smile that never quite reached his eyes.

"Thank you for watching her," he said lightly, giving the male a casual wink as if this were nothing more than a polite exchange.

His hand slid up your back, fingers brushing through your hair in a slow, absent motion that felt far too familiar—far too claiming.

The male's jaw tightened. "We were busy."

Rhys's brow arched slightly, amusement flickering across his face as he leaned down toward you.

"Trust me," he murmured softly.

You didn't even question it.

You nodded.

And then—

His lips brushed your neck.

It wasn't overt, not enough to draw attention from anyone else in the crowded room—but it was deliberate. Grounding. A quiet, unmistakable message.

The male scoffed, bitterness lacing his voice. "Gods, you're a whore."

Everything stilled.

For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.

Then Rhys moved.

Fast.

One moment he was beside you—the next his hand had closed around the male's throat, shoving him back with effortless strength. The air seemed to crack with the shift in him, that easy charm evaporating into something cold. Dangerous.

"What the hell did you say?" Rhys murmured, voice low and lethal.

The male choked, fingers clawing at Rhys's wrist, his earlier bravado completely gone as panic set in.

You pushed to your feet, heart racing—not from fear of Rhys, never that, but from the sheer intensity of the moment.

Cassian was there in an instant, stepping in close and gripping Rhys's shoulder.

"Easy," Cassian muttered under his breath.

But Rhys didn't even glance at him.

"Apologize to her," he said, tightening his grip just enough to make the male gasp.

You stepped closer, reaching out and touching Rhys's arm.

"Rhys," you said gently, shaking your head. "Let's just leave."

His jaw flexed.

"Darling," he replied quietly, not looking away from the male, "he needs to apologize."

The male nodded frantically, his eyes darting to you, voice strained and uneven. "I—I'm sorry."

You gave a small nod, wanting it to be over.

"Rhys," Cassian added under his breath, firmer now, "let him go."

But Rhys didn't.

Not immediately.

The tension stretched, thick and suffocating.

So you stepped closer again, your hand sliding more firmly over his arm.

"Rhys," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "I want to leave."

That did it.

Something in his expression shifted—just slightly. The rage didn't disappear, but it pulled back, reined in by your voice.

After a beat, his fingers loosened.

The male dropped back, stumbling as he sucked in air, scrambling away without another word.

Rhys didn't spare him a second glance.

Instead, his hand found yours instantly, gripping it a little tighter than usual.

And before you could say anything else—

Darkness curled around you.

The world vanished.

And then—

Wind.

Silence.

The cool, familiar air of the House of Wind wrapped around you as you reappeared, your hand still firmly in his.

Rhys didn't let go.

You barely registered the cold rush of wind before you were moving—your hand slipping from his as you turned and shoved at his chest.

"What was that?" you whispered, breath uneven, heart still racing.

Rhysand didn't resist the push, but he didn't move far either. He dragged a hand through his hair, the strands falling messily back into place as he exhaled.

"I'm sorry," he said, quieter now.

You shook your head quickly. "It's okay," you insisted, trying to steady yourself. "You were just being a good friend."

The word landed wrong.

You saw it the moment it did.

Rhys stilled—completely stilled—before letting out a short, disbelieving scoff. His hand dragged along the edge of a nearby desk, fingers flexing like he needed something to ground himself.

"A friend," he repeated.

Something in your chest tightened.

You looked up just as his gaze snapped to yours—and whatever you saw there made your breath catch.

He stepped closer.

Slowly.

"Is that all I am, darling?"

You instinctively stepped back.

Once. Twice.

Until your back hit the wall.

And he didn't stop.

Rhys followed, closing the distance with deliberate, measured steps, his gaze locked onto you in a way that made your pulse spike—like he was seeing you differently. Like he had been all along.

You swallowed, trying to hold onto something familiar. "Yes," you said, though your voice wasn't as steady as you wanted it to be. "You're like this with everyone."

Another scoff—softer this time. Sharper.

"Am I?"

You nodded, even as your stomach twisted.

And then—

His hands came up, bracing on either side of your head, trapping you there.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for just a second at how close he suddenly was.

"So," he murmured, voice low, dangerously calm, "I always let my friends sleep in my bed?"

Your lips parted, but no words came.

"I always touch my friends to keep others away?" he continued, closer now, his voice brushing against your skin.

Your pulse was racing.

"I always kiss my friends when they don't want male attention?"

Your breath caught—

A soft gasp slipping free as his lips brushed your neck again, slower this time, deliberate.

"And I always choke out a male when he calls my friend a whore?"

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

Your mind scrambled, trying to hold onto the version of things that made sense—the version you had always believed.

So you whispered, barely audible, "Yes..."

Rhys let out a quiet, almost incredulous chuckle.

His hand lifted, fingers tilting your chin up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"No, darling," he said softly. "I don't do that with my friends."

Your breath stuttered.

"I do it just with you."

The world seemed to tilt.

Your voice came out shaky, uncertain. "Why...?"

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Really looked at you.

And then—

Something pulled.

Sharp. Sudden. Unmistakable.

It snapped through your chest like a thread you hadn't even realized was there—tightening, glowing, binding. A warmth flooded through you, deep and undeniable, laced with something ancient and certain and—

Your breath hitched violently.

Your hand flew to your chest.

And your eyes widened as you stared at him.

At him.

"...my mate," you whispered.

Rhys's expression softened instantly, all that tension unraveling into something quieter—something almost reverent.

He nodded.

Slowly.

Then leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"Yes," he murmured.

Your breath was still uneven, your heart struggling to catch up with everything that had just... shifted.

You swallowed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"How long...?"

Rhysand let out the softest, almost pained sound as you pushed at his chest again—not hard, but enough to make space, enough to look at him.

"Since I met you," he admitted.

The words hit like a shockwave.

Your eyes widened, a sharp gasp leaving you. "You've... known for centuries?"

He nodded.

Just like that.

Like it hadn't been tearing him apart this whole time.

You brought your hands up, covering your face as everything crashed in at once—the memories, the touches, the way he'd always been there.

Rhys was there immediately.

"Hey—hey," he murmured softly, gently taking your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, and then he pressed soft kisses to your hands, one after the other.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't want to force it on you."

You stilled.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as a new thought slipped in—sharp and fragile all at once.

"Did you... want me?" you whispered. "Being your mate... did you want that?"

For a second, he just stared at you.

And then—

Rhys let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle, his expression breaking into something so open, so bright it made your chest ache.

He nodded, a real smile spreading across his face.

"I was so happy," he admitted, voice almost breathless. "The moment I felt the bond... I wanted to tell you immediately. I wanted—" he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, "—everything with you. But I didn't want to push you. Not when you deserved the choice."

Your eyes burned.

You nodded slowly, your voice trembling just slightly.

"I'm... so happy it's you."

Something in his expression softened even further, if that was possible.

"You are?" he asked quietly, like he needed to hear it again.

You nodded, stepping closer, your hands finding his shirt and tugging him down toward you.

"I am," you whispered.

And then you kissed him.

Soft at first—uncertain, like you were learning something new.

But it deepened almost instantly.

Because it wasn't new.

It had never been new.

Rhys let out a low, quiet sound against your lips, his hands coming up to cradle your face, holding you there like something precious.

"Gods..." he breathed into the kiss. "I love you."

Your heart soared, the bond between you warm and bright and real now.

"I love you too."

Rhysand smiled against your lips, something softer now threading through the intensity as he tugged you right back into the kiss.

It wasn't hesitant anymore.

Not for either of you.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there as the kiss deepened, as if he had been waiting centuries for this exact moment—and now that he had it, he wasn't letting go.

A low, quiet sound rumbled from his chest, almost a growl, the bond between you pulsing warm and alive.

"No male," he murmured against your lips, voice rough with emotion, "will ever get to touch you, talk to you—won't even be able to look at you the same way again."

Your breath caught, a soft sound escaping you as your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.

"I'm yours," you whispered, the words slipping out without hesitation, without fear—because they felt right. Completely, undeniably right.

Rhys stilled for half a heartbeat.

Then he smiled—really smiled.

"And I'm yours," he said softly.

Not possessive.

Not demanding.

Certain.

His arms slid around you before you could even react, lifting you effortlessly off your feet. A small laugh bubbled out of you, surprised, as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't stop moving.

Didn't break eye contact.

Every step toward his room felt charged, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the bond humming steadily between your chests.

When he reached the bed, he didn't rush.

Didn't drop you down carelessly.

He laid you back gently, like something precious, like something he had waited far too long to finally have.

And when he leaned over you again, his expression had shifted—still intense, still full of that overwhelming emotion—but softer now, reverent.

His fingers brushed your cheek.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

Even now.

Even after everything.

You didn't hesitate.

Your hand came up to cup his face, pulling him back down to you, your answer spoken in the way your lips met his again—warm, certain, and full of everything you hadn't realized you felt all this time.

Your lips met his with a hunger that matched the fire building between you, the bond thrumming like a live wire as his fingers deftly began untying the laces of your dress. The fabric loosened under his touch, cool air kissing your skin as he exposed you inch by inch, his mouth never leaving yours.

You parted your thighs instinctively, inviting him closer, and Rhysand stepped between them, his body heat radiating against your core. Your hands trembled with need as you worked the buttons of his shirt free, revealing the hard planes of his chest, marked with faint scars that told stories of battles long past.

When you nipped at his lower lip, a deep moan escaped him, vibrating against your mouth. In a surge of possessive desire, he gripped the remnants of your dress and tore it away with a sharp rip, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

He eased you back onto the bed fully now, his lips trailing fire down your neck, over the swell of your breasts, nipping at your collarbone before descending lower.

His teeth grazed your hip, sending shivers racing through you, and then he hooked his fingers into your underwear, shredding the delicate fabric with a growl. Bare and exposed, you arched toward him as his mouth found your clit, kissing it softly at first, then with growing fervor.

"Gods," he whispered against your slick folds, his breath hot, "you taste better than I dreamed."

A moan tore from your throat, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging him closer. Rhysand groaned into your pussy, the vibration making you gasp as he slid one finger inside you, curling it just right to stroke that sensitive spot.

You writhed beneath him, hips bucking, and he chuckled low, the sound dark and teasing. "Such a good girl," he murmured, pumping his finger slowly, "taking my finger so good."

Your moans grew louder, body squirming as pleasure coiled tight. You lifted your hips to his face, chasing more, and he moaned in response, his tongue flicking over your clit. "Come, baby," he urged, voice husky.

The command shattered you. You came hard, waves of ecstasy crashing through you, and he praised you through it, his words a soothing rumble. "That's it, so beautiful for me."

As your tremors faded, he slipped a second finger in, stretching you further, drawing a whine from your lips.

He chuckled again, leaning up to capture your mouth in a deep kiss, tasting of you. "Darling, I need to stretch you out," he said against your lips, eyes locked on yours with that tender intensity.

You nodded, breathless. "Kiss me," you whispered, and he smiled, obliging as he added a third finger, thrusting them in rhythm with his tongue against yours.

The fullness built the pressure again, and soon you were clenching around him, coming undone a second time with a cry muffled into his kiss.

He pulled back slightly, chuckling against your lips. "Oh, look at that—such a good mate."

Still panting, you reached down, palming his cock through his pants, feeling its hard length strain against the fabric. You pumped it firmly, and he moaned, hips jerking into your hand. "So needy for me," he rasped, voice thick with want.

You nodded, eyes pleading, and he cupped your face gently. "I'll take care of you, darling."

With a sigh of relief, you watched as he withdrew his fingers, standing to strip off the rest of his clothes. His shirt fell away, then his pants, revealing his thick cock, veined and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip.

You giggled softly at the sight of him, so powerful yet vulnerable in this moment, and scooted to the middle of the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin.

Rhysand smirked, that wicked curve of his lips making your pulse race, and he crawled over you, caging you in with his arms. Your hand found his cock again, stroking it, and he moaned, kissing you fiercely. "Ready for me?" he asked, voice rough.

You nodded, heart pounding, and he rested his forehead against yours, the bond singing between you. Slowly, he guided himself to your entrance, slipping inside inch by inch, filling you completely.

A moan escaped you, head falling back into the pillows, exposing your neck. Rhysand's face buried there, lips brushing your pulse as he thrust deeper, setting a steady rhythm that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You moaned louder, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in until he bottomed out, the angle hitting every nerve. "Faster," you begged, nails digging into his back. "Harder, please."

He groaned, pace quickening. "Don't have to beg me, darling. I'll do anything for you."

You nodded, capturing his lips in a messy kiss. "Fuck me so good—so good for me."

He whined, a raw sound that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "Wanna be such a good mate for you."

"Gods, you're everything," you breathed, holding him tight.

He smiled against your skin, thrusts growing urgent. "Come for me," he begged, voice breaking with emotion.

You did, clenching around him like a vice, your release pulling his own from him. He came with a guttural moan, spilling deep inside you, bodies locked together as the bond flared bright, sealing this moment forever.

You think it's over, his whine vibrating against your neck as your bodies tremble in the aftershocks, but when you glance down, you see his cock still hard, buried deep inside you, twitching with renewed need.

A soft moan slips from your lips at the sight, and Rhysand catches it, his eyes darkening with fresh hunger. In one fluid motion, he flips your positions, rolling so you're straddling him, his hands settling on your hips. You start to grind against him slowly, rolling your pelvis in languid circles, feeling every inch of him slide within your slick heat.

This time, it's unhurried, a tender lovemaking that builds like a gentle wave. His thumbs trace soothing patterns on your skin as you move together, his thrusts meeting yours in a rhythmic harmony, the bond between you pulsing with quiet intimacy.

Your hands brace on his chest, fingers splaying over the firm muscles, and he watches you with reverent eyes, one hand coming up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple.

It doesn't take long—the connection too raw, too profound—for the pleasure to crest again. You come first, a soft cry escaping as you clench around him, and he follows with a low groan, spilling into you once more, his grip tightening as waves of release wash over you both.

Gently, he eases you down beside him, pulling out with care, his cock glistening as he shifts to lay you back against the pillows. "You took me so good," he murmurs, voice husky with affection, pressing kisses to your forehead. "Such a good mate for me, darling—perfect, every part of you."

You nod, basking in his words, but a whine builds in your throat when he slips from the bed, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving you chilled. He glances back, concern flickering in his gaze, and returns quickly from the bathroom with a warm cloth.

Seeing you still whining softly, he coos, settling beside you. "Shh, I need to clean you up, love."

You nod, eyes heavy, and let him tend to you, the gentle wipes against your sensitive folds lulling you into drowsiness. As he works, your lids flutter shut, sleep claiming you in the safety of his touch.

When he's finished, he discards the cloth and slides back into bed, drawing you into his arms. "Love you, darling," he whispers, lips brushing your temple.

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

~

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

yandere! saja boys x reader thoughts. (fic/series will eventully be written). i just did not know what to write for them lol. here you go!

being demons, they're very possessive. but it is partly because you are their mate, so they just instinctively feel this way.

they first found you when you went to one of their shows. You were one of their biggest fans naturally.

"Hi! You say." I'm your biggest fan!!" "Hey there, sweetheart, Abby flirted. "What's your name?"

"y/n!"

Their smirks were so hot. You were fangirling probably too hard, you needed to calm down.

They quickly felt the bond. Once you finished meeting them, they did not want to let you go.

they kidnapped rescued you to protect you, but you see them for who they really were.

you could cry, but they would not let you go.

they would kill for you. like the guy hitting on you on your way home? oh his soul was taken, now he might be in hell.

but it was bloody, too.

Needless to say, you were no longer their fan. You hated them more than anything. But you felt powerless, being human while they were demons, probably hundreds of years old.

"You are our mate," jinu told you, leaving you in shock."You feel it, don't you?"

you could not reply, because you knew it was true. you belonged to them. you wanted to belong to them.

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings: 1 swear word, implications of postpartum depression (barely mentioned), Beron (barely), angst, arguing, happy ending

Summary: Eris has been on a mission for a while, and comes back to find his family struggling. (Also introduction of my child OC's)

Word Count: 1421

Taglist: @reetriestbr @pandabiiissh

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Rhysand x reader!cassians sister

Summary: You and Rhysand become mates right before a mission. You return injured, causing chaos and protectiveness from Rhys and Cassian. After tensions settle, you admit your feelings, and you and Rhys fully accept the bond, beginning a steady relationship.

Warnings: Injury / mild violence (non-graphic), Protective/possessive behavior, Emotional intensity, Arguments / heated confrontations, References to past combat and missions, Themes of control vs. independence, Forced rest / removal from duty, Romantic tension / slow-burn intimacy, Mating bond dynamics, smut, p in v, suggestive content at mating frenzy.

Authors note: stop I love this small one shot so much!!! Hope yall love it as much as I do🫢

Main Masterlist:

✦     ✦     ✦

The bond was still new—too new to feel stable, too sharp to ignore.

It snapped into place only days ago, like something inside you had finally clicked into its missing half. Since then, everything had been louder. Emotions didn't stay contained; they slipped through the bond in waves. Rhys's worry. Your stubbornness. The faint pull that made distance feel slightly wrong, like your body was always aware of where he was in a room even when your mind wasn't.

Which is why he hadn't wanted you to go on the mission.

Not because you couldn't handle it. That was never the argument. It was because neither of you had fully learned how to live with something that made you feel each other so intensely yet.

But you went anyway.

Cassian had called it "routine"—a quick strike, in and out before dawn. Azriel had confirmed the intel. Even Mor had rolled her eyes at Rhys's tension and told him you'd be fine.

So you went.

And for a while, it was fine.

Until it wasn't.

By the time you returned to the House of Wind, dusk had settled over Velaris, painting the marble in muted gold and violet shadows. Your body ached in that familiar, satisfying way that came after a clean fight, and your mind was already half on a bath, half on ignoring the way the bond had tugged insistently the entire way home.

Rhys had felt it too. You knew he had. The bond didn't exactly allow subtlety yet. Every spike of adrenaline, every moment your focus sharpened in the field, every second something went wrong—it had brushed against him like a distant echo he couldn't block out. You had felt his restraint in return, that controlled pressure of a male forcing himself to stay where he was instead of appearing at your side.

When you stepped into the main sitting room, the air changed instantly.

Cassian was the first you saw, leaning forward in his chair like he'd been waiting to launch himself into motion. Azriel stood near the window, quiet as ever, but his shadows had already shifted toward you before his gaze fully landed. Mor straightened, her expression light but observant in a way that meant she'd already taken in more than she was letting on.

And Rhysand—

Rhysand didn't move at first.

He was by the balcony doors, silhouetted against the fading light, hands clasped loosely behind his back. But the moment your eyes met, everything in him went still in a way that was almost too controlled to be calm.

You barely had time to exhale before his gaze dropped.

Not to your eyes.

To your face.

Something in his expression shifted so sharply it made your stomach tighten.

"What," he said quietly, voice low enough that it carried only through the room and nowhere beyond it, "is that?"

You frowned slightly, confused. "What are you talking about?"

But he was already crossing the space between you.

Not rushed. Not frantic.

Controlled.

That was the part that made Cassian tense instantly.

Rhys stopped just in front of you, close enough that the bond tightened in response, awareness flooding your chest. His hand lifted slowly, not touching you yet, but hovering near your jaw as if asking permission he didn't need. Then he tilted your face slightly toward the light.

And that's when you felt it.

The bruise.

Faint, but unmistakable. Darkened skin along your jawline—something you hadn't even registered in the aftermath of the mission.

The room went dead silent.

Cassian was on his feet in an instant. "What the hell is that?"

Azriel's shadows curled inward. Mor's expression dropped the humor entirely.

But Rhys didn't look away from you.

His eyes had gone dangerously still, violet deepening in a way that meant something far more violent was being held just beneath the surface.

"Who," he asked softly, each word precise, measured, "put that mark on you?"

The bond flared at the edge of your awareness—hot, sharp, reactive. Not pain, but something close to it. Something possessive and furious that wasn't directed at you, but through you, as if he was already imagining every possible answer and none of them were acceptable.

"It's nothing," you said quickly, instinctively stepping half a breath closer, as if proximity could ease the sudden tension. "Just a stray hit during the fight. It's barely—"

"A stray hit doesn't leave a mark like that," Cassian cut in immediately, voice low and dangerous now, wings twitching like he was already calculating angles, enemies, retaliation.

Rhys's thumb finally brushed your skin—just beneath the bruise. The touch was almost unbearably gentle compared to the intensity in his eyes.

"You were gone one day," he said quietly, almost to himself, like he was trying to reconcile logic with instinct. "One day. And I felt it through the bond the moment it happened."

That made your breath catch.

Cassian went still.

Even Mor stopped moving.

Rhys's jaw tightened slightly, the only crack in his control. "I felt the moment you were hurt."

The silence that followed was heavier than anything said so far.

When he finally lowered his hand, it didn't feel like release. It felt like restraint—like he was physically forcing himself not to do something irreversible.

His gaze lifted back to yours.

And the softness that had been in his touch didn't match the storm in his eyes.

"Tell me again," Rhys said quietly, voice edged now with something far more dangerous than anger, "who put that mark on you."

You scoffed before anyone else could say anything, the sound sharp in the thick silence of the room. "I am fine," you muttered, already brushing off the attention like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

It wasn't pain that bothered you—just the way everyone was suddenly acting like you'd come back half-dead over a bruise you barely even felt anymore.

Rhysand exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that usually meant he was restraining himself from saying something far worse. He rolled his eyes, but there was nothing amused about it. Nothing light. Just that controlled frustration that had been building since the moment he saw your face.

Cassian, however, didn't even bother hiding his reaction.

"You're mated to my sister," he muttered, voice tight, like the words themselves were a warning he was issuing rather than stating a fact.

The entire room seemed to shift.

Rhysand went still.

Not subtle stillness—absolute stillness. The kind that made even the air feel like it had been pulled taut. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head toward Cassian, violet eyes sharpening in a way that made even warriors hesitate.

Cassian met his stare head-on, jaw clenched, wings slightly flared like he was already ready for a fight.

Rhys's voice dropped low. Dangerous in its calm. "That's not the point of this. The point is your sister was hurt."

Cassian scoffed, stepping forward like instinct alone was pulling him closer to you, ready to physically remove you from the situation if he had to. "The point is you're acting like—"

"I said I'm fine," you cut in again, sharper this time, exhaustion finally cracking through your irritation.

Cassian tried to move past Rhys then, like he could just insert himself between you both, like distance alone would fix whatever this was spiraling into. But before he could even get close, you shifted.

You moved.

Straight toward Rhysand.

It stopped Cassian mid-step.

It stopped Rhys too.

You didn't hesitate, didn't even look at your brother as you came to stand in front of your mate instead. The bond hummed faintly between you, still too new, still too sensitive, reacting instantly to your proximity. You tilted your head up slightly, your voice lowering as you said it again—softer this time, but no less firm.

"I am fine."

Rhys's gaze flicked over your face, searching, still unsettled, still not satisfied. Cassian watched from behind him, arms tensing at his sides like he was fighting every instinct to pull you back.

For a moment, it felt like the room was holding its breath.

Then you pushed Rhys.

Not hard—just enough to shift him back a step, enough to break the tension that had been coiling tighter and tighter between the three of you. His brows lifted slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist.

"I'm going to bed," you said flatly, already turning away as if the conversation was over simply because you decided it was.

You made it a few steps before you stopped.

Then glanced back over your shoulder.

Your eyes landed on both of them—Cassian still bristling, Rhys still watching you with that quiet, unreadable intensity.

And then, clearly, firmly—

"And don't follow me."

The words landed like a door slamming shut.

The moment you disappeared down the hall, the air in the room changed again—like something fragile had finally snapped out of place.

Cassian didn't even wait for the echo of your footsteps to fade.

He moved.

One second Rhysand was still watching the doorway you'd left through, the next Cassian had him shoved back hard against the nearest wall. Stone cracked slightly under the force of it, the sound sharp in the silence.

Cassian's hand was fisted in Rhys's shirt, wings flared wide, eyes burning.

"You're mated to my sister?" he growled, voice low and lethal, like he couldn't decide if he wanted an answer or an excuse to hit him.

Rhys didn't react immediately—not in the way someone would if they were startled. Only his head tilted slightly, breath steadying as he met Cassian's glare without flinching.

Before anything else could escalate, a shadow slid between them.

Azriel.

He didn't shove Cassian off. Didn't raise his voice. He simply placed a steady hand on Cassian's shoulder, firm enough to ground him but not challenge him.

"Let him talk," Azriel murmured, voice quiet but absolute.

Cassian's jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. For a moment, it seemed like he might ignore him anyway.

Then his wings lowered just a fraction.

A reluctant, tense nod.

But he didn't let go.

Rhys adjusted his shirt slowly where Cassian had grabbed him, exhaling through his nose before speaking. "I didn't know," he said simply.

Cassian's brows furrowed.

Rhys continued, voice quieter now, but steady. "When I sent her on the mission, the bond snapped for us. Fully. But she still argued with me. Still insisted on going."

That landed differently.

Cassian's grip loosened just slightly, confusion breaking through the anger. "Oh," he said after a beat, like the pieces were shifting into place whether he liked it or not.

Rhys gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

But even as he spoke, something flickered through him—subtle, but sharp. A hum beneath his skin that only someone tied to him through a mating bond could sense. A distant echo of discomfort. Not physical.

You.

Cassian noticed the shift immediately. So did Azriel, though neither commented on it.

Rhys's gaze flicked toward the hallway again, jaw tightening slightly. "Can I go see her?"

Cassian finally released him—but slowly, like he still wasn't convinced he should.

He looked up at Rhys with something dangerously close to warning. "Don't break her, Rhys. I swear."

The room went still again at that.

Even Azriel didn't interrupt.

Rhys met Cassian's stare without hesitation, something far quieter but far more certain settling in his expression.

"She would be the one to break me," he said softly.

And for once, there was no arrogance in it.

Only truth.

Cassian hesitated only a moment longer.

Then, with a sharp exhale through his nose, he stepped back. The anger didn't disappear—but it shifted, redirected. Controlled, like everything Cassian did when it mattered.

"Go," he said gruffly, jerking his chin toward the stairs. "Help her."

Rhys didn't need to be told twice.

He gave a single nod—silent, restrained—and left the room, the bond already pulling at him faintly, like a thread stretched too tight. Even without words, he could feel it now: the dull ache of you trying to pretend you were fine when your body clearly wasn't.

He took the stairs two at a time.

By the time he reached your door, the House of Wind had gone quiet again. Too quiet. Like it was holding its breath with him.

He knocked once.

No answer.

A second later, there was a soft sound from inside. A low groan—frustration more than pain—but enough to make his chest tighten.

"Y/N?" he called gently.

Still nothing.

That was enough.

He opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

Your name left him again, quieter this time, as his eyes adjusted to the light—and then he saw you.

In the bathroom.

Half-turned toward the sink, your shirt pulled up and off one shoulder, exposing an angry, open wound along your side that you were clearly trying to clean yourself. One hand was braced against the counter, the other working too carefully, too stubbornly, like you were determined not to ask for help even if it hurt.

Rhys stopped instantly.

Everything in him went still in that controlled, terrifying way again—but it wasn't anger this time. It was something tighter. Sharper.

Concern, edged with disbelief.

He crossed the room in a few quiet steps.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, voice low.

You didn't even look at him properly. Just a small shrug, like it was nothing worth discussing. "I'm fine."

That earned a quiet exhale from him—half frustration, half resignation. Not at you exactly. At the fact that you genuinely believed it.

Rhys shook his head once, slow. "Let me help."

There was no argument in his tone this time. Just certainty. Steady, grounded.

A pause.

Then you nodded.

Barely.

Accepting more than agreeing.

Before you could change your mind, he stepped closer and gently lifted you up onto the edge of the counter so you were at a better height. His movements were careful—precise, like he was handling something far more fragile than you'd ever admit to being.

You let out a small sound of discomfort when he shifted you, and his jaw tightened immediately in response.

"I've got you," he said quietly.

The words weren't dramatic. They were just real.

Rhys turned slightly, reaching for the supplies you'd been using, and began cleaning the wound properly—slower, more controlled than you had been. Every so often his gaze flicked up to your face, checking your reaction, checking for pain you were trying to hide.

And underneath it all, the bond hummed.

Not loud.

Just constant.

Like it refused to ignore you, even when you tried to insist you were fine.

The room fell into a quieter kind of stillness after that—only the soft sounds of water, fabric shifting, and Rhysand's careful movements breaking it.

He worked slowly, deliberately, cleaning the wound with a gentleness that almost didn't match the tension still coiled in his shoulders. Every time you so much as winced, his hand would still slightly, like he was holding himself back from reacting too strongly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured at one point, barely audible.

You glanced at him. "For what?"

He didn't answer immediately. Just focused on finishing the bandage, jaw tight.

But the question had already settled between you both.

A few seconds passed before he finally spoke again, quieter now. "Are you mad?"

You let out a small, tired sound—half sigh, half disbelief—as he smoothed the edge of the bandage down. "About what?"

Rhys exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to steady himself. Then he carefully pulled your shirt back into place, fingers brushing the fabric like he was giving you space to decide what came next.

"About me," he said, voice softer. "Being your mate."

That made you pause.

You looked up at him properly then.

Really looked.

The worry hadn't left his face. It was still there, unguarded in a way you weren't used to seeing from him—no mask, no practiced control. Just him. Waiting.

Something in your chest tightened.

"No," you said quietly.

The answer came simple. Honest.

Rhys blinked once, like he hadn't fully believed it until he heard it out loud. Then the faintest hint of relief pulled at his expression.

"You're not upset," he said, almost like he was confirming it for himself.

You shook your head, gaze dropping slightly as heat crept into your cheeks. "I always..." You hesitated, then admitted it anyway, quieter. "I always had a small crush on you."

That earned a very slow, very deliberate smirk from him.

He leaned in slightly, tilting his head to catch your eyes again. "You did?"

You nodded.

His hand came up gently under your chin, lifting your face just enough that you couldn't avoid his gaze. "And here I thought I was the only one suffering through all of that."

A breath of air left you that might've been a laugh if your nerves weren't suddenly louder than your thoughts.

Then his expression shifted—softer again, but sharper around the edges when his attention dropped to your neck.

He leaned in, pressing a slow, grounding kiss just beneath your jaw, right over the faint mark that had started all of this.

"Who did this to you, love?" he asked quietly against your skin.

The words weren't just curiosity anymore.

They were promise.

You shivered slightly at the contact, the bond reacting instantly, warmth threading through your chest. "I got stopped in Autumn," you admitted. "On my way back. Tried to winnow out and—"

Rhys's entire body tensed.

A low, dangerous sound left him—half breath, half restraint. "I'll kill them."

It was said so simply it almost didn't sound like a threat.

But you felt it. Through the bond. The certainty of it.

He started to pull back immediately, already shifting into that controlled, distant place he went when anger took over—but before he could fully step away, your hand caught his.

You pulled him back toward you.

Closer.

"Don't," you said softly, steadying him with just your grip. "I need my mate."

That stopped him completely.

His breath hitched slightly, eyes snapping back to yours.

"You..." he repeated, like the words had caught somewhere in his chest. "You need me?"

You nodded once.

Simple. Unshaking.

Then you leaned forward first.

The kiss wasn't hesitant.

It wasn't uncertain.

It was real.

Rhys made a quiet sound against your mouth—something between relief and something far more overwhelmed—as his hand came up to steady you, pulling you closer without fully thinking about it. The bond flared between you both, bright and consuming, like it had been waiting for this exact moment of acceptance.

And for once, there was no war in the room.

Just him.

And you.

Rhys pulled back first, not far, just enough to break the kiss before it could spiral into something neither of you were in any condition to fully ignore. His forehead rested briefly against yours, breath uneven, hands still braced carefully at your waist like he was grounding himself more than holding you.

"No, darling," he murmured, voice roughened with restraint. His thumb brushed lightly at your side, just above the bandage, as if reminding both of you exactly why he was stopping. "We can't... I want to. I do. But not with your wounds."

There was something almost painfully steady in the way he said it—like it cost him something to pull back at all.

You didn't argue the logic. Not really.

You just shook your head slightly and leaned in again, pressing another kiss to him anyway, softer this time but just as certain. The bond hummed between you both, warm and insistent, like it didn't understand why there were even limits anymore.

"Please," you whispered against his mouth.

Rhys exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes closing for a second like he was trying to keep control of something slipping too easily. When he opened them again, they were softer—but still firm.

His hand slid up to your cheek, holding you there gently. "You're impossible."

You gave a small, tired breath that might've been a laugh, might've been nothing at all, and let your forehead rest against his again. The tension in your body eased now that he wasn't pulling away completely.

After a moment, your voice came quieter. "Stay the night with me. Please."

That shifted something in him instantly.

Not urgency this time.

Something deeper.

Rhys went still for a heartbeat, like he was absorbing the request, weighing it against everything else that had happened that day—the mission, the bond, the bruise, Cassian's fury still somewhere downstairs, the world outside this room that suddenly felt too far away to matter.

Then he nodded once.

Slow. Certain.

"I'm never leaving you again," he whispered.

It wasn't dramatic.

It wasn't a vow spoken for effect.

It was simply truth settling into place between you both, like the bond itself had finally exhaled.

His thumb brushed your cheek one last time before he carefully adjusted you again—gentle, protective, already shifting into that quiet vigilance that meant he was staying exactly where you were, no matter what waited outside the door.

And for the first time since the mission, the ache in your side didn't feel like the only thing grounding you.

He was.

✦     ✦     ✦

Months had settled over everything like a soft afterglow.

The initial shock of the bond snapping into place had dulled into something steadier—still intense, still impossible to ignore, but no longer chaotic. You and Rhysand were learning each other in quieter ways now. Not just as mates, but as two people figuring out how to exist in the same space without the world constantly trying to pull you apart.

And Rhysand—High Lord of the Night Court—had made one thing very clear.

You were not going back on missions.

Not yet.

Cassian had taken it upon himself to enforce that with the kind of stubborn, brotherly ferocity only he could manage. He called it "temporary protection." Rhys called it "agreement." You called it "annoying," though you didn't fight it nearly as hard as you used to.

Because the truth was... neither of them were wrong.

So instead, there was this.

Morning light spilled softly through the curtains of your shared room in the House of Wind, turning everything into gold and shadow. The world outside could have been burning and neither of you would have known—or cared.

You were half asleep on your side, tangled in sheets that had clearly been abandoned in favor of comfort rather than order. Rhys lay beside you, one arm tucked beneath you, the other tracing slow, absent patterns across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up slightly.

His fingertips paused over a small scar there—faint now, old enough to be harmless but still present enough to catch his attention every time.

You felt it the moment his touch lingered.

Not concern.

Just awareness.

Like he was memorizing the fact that you were still here.

Still with him.

His thumb brushed lightly over it again, slower this time, and you let out a small, amused sound, shifting slightly under him.

"Stop thinking so loudly," you murmured, eyes still closed.

A quiet huff of laughter left him, but his hand didn't move away. Instead, he leaned in closer, lips brushing the curve of your throat in a slow, unhurried kiss that made you immediately smile despite yourself.

"You're not helping," you added, voice softer now, already giving up any attempt at sounding serious.

"I'm not trying to," Rhys murmured against your skin.

His tone was easy. Warm. Completely unbothered in a way that still felt slightly unreal compared to the male who had once stood in front of Cassian with murder in his eyes over a bruise on your jaw.

Now, that same male was gently pressing another kiss to your throat like the world had narrowed down to this bed, this moment, and you.

You let out a small laugh when his hand slid up your side again, deliberately brushing over the scar on your stomach like he couldn't help himself. "You know Cassian is going to lose his mind if he walks in on this."

Rhys paused just long enough to smirk against your skin. "Cassian is already losing his mind. He's just doing it in different rooms."

That earned another laugh from you, soft and unguarded.

The bond between you hummed faintly at the sound—warm, settled, familiar now in a way it hadn't been months ago. It wasn't overwhelming anymore. It just was.

Rhys shifted slightly, propping himself up just enough to look down at you properly. His fingers still traced idle circles over your skin, slow and grounding.

"I meant what I said," he murmured after a moment.

You opened one eye lazily. "Which part?"

His expression softened, just slightly. "All of it."

There was a pause.

Not heavy.

Just real.

Then he leaned down again, pressing a quieter kiss to your shoulder before resting his forehead briefly against you.

"No more missions," he added, voice gentler now. "Not until you're ready. Not until I'm certain you're safe."

You hummed softly, not arguing this time. Not because you had nothing to say—but because, for once, you didn't feel the need to fight for space that was already being given to you freely.

Instead, you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer without thinking.

"I can live with that," you murmured.

Rhys exhaled slowly, like something inside him had finally eased fully into place.

And when he kissed you again—slower this time, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world—it didn't feel like anything needed to be fixed anymore.

The kiss deepened slowly at first—no urgency, just that quiet shift from affection into something heavier, something that made the air in the room feel tighter. Rhys's hand slid more firmly to your waist, steadying you as he guided you back against the sheets.

The world narrowed again, just like it always did with him. No court. No responsibilities. No history pressing in from either side. Just the two of you, and the bond humming faintly between your chests like it finally knew where it belonged.

You broke the kiss just enough to breathe, your forehead brushing his as your voice slipped out softer than you meant it to. "Please..."

Rhys paused immediately.

Not distant. Not unsure.

Just attentive.

His thumb brushed your cheek gently as he pulled back just enough to look at you fully, violet eyes searching your face with a kind of careful awareness that always made your chest tighten.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

There was no pressure in it. No assumption. Just him giving you the space to choose.

You hesitated only a second before nodding.

That small movement changed something in his expression—subtle, but immediate. His eyes widened slightly, not with surprise at you, but with understanding. Like something he'd been carefully holding back into place had just been given permission to breathe.

He knew exactly what this meant for you both.

Not just closeness.

Not just desire.

But acceptance—of the bond, of him, of everything still unfolding between you.

A slow, almost disbelieving smile pulled at his mouth as he leaned back down, pressing his lips to yours again. This time, the kiss was steadier. Certain. Less restrained in a way that still somehow felt entirely safe.

His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, anchoring you to him as the rest of the world fell away completely.

When you shifted closer, pulling him with you, he followed without hesitation—like he'd been waiting for this exact moment since the bond first snapped into place.

Rhysand didn't waste time. His mouth never left yours as he worked at the laces of your dress, his fingers deft despite the urgency thrumming through him. The fabric pooled at your feet, and you kicked it aside as good as you could laying on the bed, your breath hitching as his hands mapped the bare skin of your waist, your ribs, the swell of your breasts.

He groaned against your lips when you tugged at his shirt, your nails scraping over the hard planes of his chest as you stripped him just as efficiently. Clothes were a nuisance, a barrier neither of them could tolerate a second longer.

When you two were both naked, Rhysand pulled back just enough to drink you in, his dark eyes burning with something feral. "Fuck," he breathed, voice rough, "you're perfect."

His mouth was on you before you could beg for it, hot and wet and relentless. The first swipe of his tongue had your back arching off the bed, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

He chuckled darkly, the vibration making you tremble. "That's it, love," he murmured, nipping at your inner thigh before diving back in. "Let me hear you." His fingers joined his mouth, two sliding inside you with ease, curling just right as his tongue circled your clit.

You whined, your hips jerking against his face, your grip tightening in his hair.

"Rhys—fuck—" His name was a prayer and a curse, your voice cracking as he crooked his fingers deeper, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you still.

He growled against you, the sound vibrating through your core. "Gonna make you come so hard, my perfect girl."

His tongue flattened, dragging through your folds before flicking over your clit in quick, punishing strokes.

You sobbed, your thighs trembling around his head, your nails digging into his scalp. He groaned, the sound muffled against your pussy, his own cock leaking against the sheets.

You were close—so close you could taste it, your vision blurring at the edges. But then his fingers were gone, his mouth pulling away, and you whimpered in protest.

Rhysand smirked up at you, his lips glistening, his fingers slick with her arousal. "Patience," he murmured, bringing those fingers to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. "I want you to come on my cock first."

Before you could argue, he was crawling up your body, his weight settling between your thighs. His cock was thick, heavy against your stomach as he leaned down to kiss you, letting your taste herself on his lips.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands sliding down his back to grip his ass, your nails biting into the flesh. He hissed, breaking the kiss to nip at your jaw, your throat, the swell of your breasts.

"Greedy little thing," he growled, grinding his hips against yours. The head of his cock teased your entrance, and you whined, your heels digging into the mattress.

The world dissolved into a symphony of sensation that had nothing to do with sight or sound. It was the heat of his skin against yours, the delicious stretch as he filled you completely, the raw, primal scent of him mingling with your own arousal. But woven through it all, humming like a live wire beneath your skin, was the bond.

It was a golden, shimmering thread, pulling taut with every thrust, vibrating with every shared gasp. It wasn't just physical pleasure; it was an emotional avalanche. You felt his awe, a reverence so profound it bordered on worship, as he moved within you.

You felt his possessiveness, a dark, sweet thrill that was not about ownership but about belonging—his, and he was yours. And beneath it all, a current of sheer, unadulterated joy, the pure happiness of a male who had finally found his home.

"Fuck," you gasped, your nails digging into the powerful muscles of his back. "It's so different with the bond."

He stilled for a second, his forehead dropping to yours, violet eyes blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. "Nothing," he vowed, his voice a ragged whisper against your lips, "nothing will ever feel as good as this."

The truth of it echoed through the connection, undeniable. You pulled him down into a searing kiss, pouring your own wonder, your own claiming, into it. He groaned into your mouth, his hips finding a new rhythm—not frantic, but deep, deliberate, each stroke a promise and a prayer.

The pleasure built not in a sharp peak, but in a slow, inexorable tide, amplified and reflected through the bond until you couldn't tell where his sensations ended and yours began. His climax wasn't just his own; it was a shared detonation that ripped through you both, a burst of blinding white light behind your eyelids, a feeling of completion so absolute it brought tears to your eyes.

For a long time, you simply lay there, tangled together, hearts hammering in unison, the bond humming with a contented, satiated glow. He was heavy atop you, but the weight was a comfort, an anchor.

Finally, with a tenderness that made your throat tight, he shifted. He didn't just roll away. He gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if you were made of starlight and dreams, and carried you from the bed.

The bathing chamber in the House of Wind was already prepared, as if the very stones had anticipated this moment. Steam rose from the sunken pool, scented with night-blooming jasmine. He stepped down into the warm water, still holding you, and only then did he gently lower you, letting you find your footing before pulling you back against him.

The water lapped at your shoulders as you leaned into his chest, his arms encircling you from behind. You were both quiet, soaking in the warmth, the silence, the profound rightness of it all.

You turned your head, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You need to get some time off, High Lord," you whispered, the title a playful, intimate tease.

A low growl vibrated through his chest and into your back. His arms tightened around you. "We are leaving tomorrow," he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You smiled, tilting your head back to look up at him. The fierce protectiveness in his gaze, the unshakable certainty—it was all part of the bond now, a part of you. You nodded, reaching a hand up to cup his jaw.

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader

Summary: just a lazy night with your mate as you learn how long he would wait for you and these moments

Warnings: smut, p in v, small breeding kink, unprotected sex, tooth rotting shit, talks of abuse (stupid Beron)

Authors note: no because why am I loving my drafts right now…I loveeee sweet Eris and his hounds 😭. I promise more post will come out with different characters🫡.

Main Masterlist:

✷☽✦☾✷☽✦☾✷

The fire had long since burned low, casting the room in a soft, amber glow that flickered across your skin. The warmth of it seeped into your bones, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Eris behind you—his bare chest pressed to your back, one arm draped possessively over your waist beneath the thin sheet.

The fabric barely covered you, stopping just above your chest, leaving your shoulders exposed to the cool air. Not that it mattered. Eris's lips had been there for what felt like hours—pressing slow, absentminded kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, the curve where your neck met your body. He didn't seem able to stop.

You smiled softly to yourself and continued humming, the quiet notes of an old Autumn Court lullaby drifting between you. Your fingers traced idle patterns along his arm, mapping every ridge, every scar you'd long since memorized.

The melody faltered.

You huffed under your breath. "Shit... I forgot it."

Behind you, Eris let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and amused against your skin. His lips brushed your shoulder again as he murmured, "Just restart, love."

You nodded, turning slightly in his arms before beginning again, softer this time. Slower. Your fingers resumed their path, but now with more intention—gliding over the scars that marked his arms, his shoulders, his back. Some were jagged, some faint, some clearly older than others.

Each one told a story you already knew.

Each one still made your chest ache.

Your touch gentled as you traced one along his shoulder blade, your brows knitting slightly. "You didn't deserve any of this," you whispered, more to yourself than him.

Eris didn't answer right away.

Instead, his hand moved, catching yours. He brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle—slow, deliberate, like he needed the contact just as much as you did.

"I love when you do this," he murmured quietly, his voice losing that usual sharp edge it carried with everyone else.

You turned your head to look at him, and the breath caught in his throat.

Your hair was undone, falling in soft, messy waves around your face. Your eyes were warm, full of something that made his chest tighten in a way no battlefield ever could. Bare against him, illuminated by firelight—you looked like something sacred.

Eris reached up, his fingers brushing along your jaw, almost reverent.

"Don't stop," he added, softer now.

So you didn't.

Your hand returned to his skin, tracing each scar with care, like you could rewrite the past just by touching him gently enough. His eyes slipped closed as you did, his forehead resting against yours, grounding himself in you, in this moment—safe, warm, and finally understood.

And when your humming resumed, steady and soft, his lips found your knuckles again.

You leaned closer, your voice soft against his skin. "Why do you love this so much?"

Eris's eyes opened, something deep and warm flickering in them as he looked at you. A slow smile curved his lips before he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth.

"Because," he murmured against your lips, "you bring the lightness out of them." His thumb brushed over your knuckles as if proving his point. "Just like you're the lightness in my life."

Your breath hitched slightly at that, your head tilting as you whispered his name, softer now—almost fragile.

"Eris..."

He exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. "I don't think I would be here without you."

You smiled at that, gentle but certain, your fingers threading through his hair. "Yes, you would," you said quietly. "Because you would still have to wait for me."

A quiet huff of amusement left him, his arms tightening around you as he tugged you closer against him. "I waited centuries for you."

You nodded, brushing his hair back from his face, your touch slow and soothing. "And you would have waited more."

Eris's expression softened even further, something almost aching in his gaze as he looked at you. He sighed, leaning into your touch.

"I would wait forever for you," he said quietly. "Even if I was on my deathbed... I would wait just to see a second of you."

Your smile faltered, a small frown pulling at your lips. "Don't talk about dying," you muttered, the words barely above a whisper.

He immediately leaned in, kissing the pout from your lips, soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry, love."

The tension eased as you smiled again, shifting slightly before moving over him, your hands bracing lightly against his chest as you looked down at him.

"Then don't waste time," you murmured, your voice warm and certain. "Stay here. With me."

Eris's hands slid along your sides, steady and grounding, his gaze never leaving yours. There was no teasing in him now, no sharp edges—just that quiet, consuming devotion.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.

The fire crackled beside you, casting flickering light over tangled sheets and bare skin as he pulled you down into another slow kiss—one that spoke of patience, of longing, of something that had waited far too long to finally exist.

The kiss deepened, your lips parting as Eris's tongue slid against yours, tasting and claiming with a hunger that had simmered for centuries.

His hands roamed up your back, fingers digging into your skin just enough to pull you flush against him. You felt the hard length of his cock pressing against your thigh, already throbbing with need.

You broke the kiss, your breath coming in shallow pants as you shifted your hips. Straddling him fully, you reached down between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his thick cock.

He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking up slightly as you stroked him once, twice, feeling the heat and pulse of him in your grip.

"Please," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, eyes locked on yours.

You guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, your pussy slick and ready from the intimacy building between you. Slowly, you sank down onto him, inch by inch, until he filled you completely. A shared gasp escaped your lips as your walls clenched around his length, the stretch burning sweetly.

Eris's hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you began to move. You rocked against him, lifting up and sliding back down, setting a rhythm that had his cock thrusting deep inside you with each roll of your hips. The fire's warmth licked at your bare skin, mirroring the heat building in your core.

He sat up slightly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your chest to his. His mouth found your neck, lips brushing hot kisses along your pulse as you rode him harder, your thighs flexing with the effort. Moans spilled from his lips against your skin, muffled but fervent.

"I'd wait... forever for this," he moaned, his breath ragged as you ground down, taking him to the hilt. "For you... you're perfect, so fucking perfect for me. Every curve, every gasp—made for my cock, my hands. Centuries... worth every second."

His words sent shivers through you, your pace quickening as you chased the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close to your neck as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin there, his moans vibrating against you.

His hips snapped up to meet your downward thrusts, the slap of skin on skin echoing softly in the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire.

"Eris," you whimpered, your pussy fluttering around him, the friction building unbearably. He was so deep, hitting that spot inside you with every grind, his cock throbbing as your juices coated him.

He groaned louder, teeth grazing your collarbone. "Come with me, love... I can't hold back. You're everything—waited so long to fuck you like this, to feel you clench around me. Perfect... mine."

The tension snapped all at once. Your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure ripping through your body as your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him.

Eris followed instantly, his release flooding you in hot spurts, his moans turning into a deep, guttural cry against your neck. You both trembled together, locked in that simultaneous peak, bodies shuddering as one.

As the aftershocks faded, you didn't stop moving entirely. You chuckled breathlessly, still grinding slowly against him, feeling his cock twitch inside your sensitive pussy.

Eris laughed too, a warm, affectionate sound that rumbled from his chest, his lips finding yours in a lazy, lingering kiss.

"Can't get enough," he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, encouraging your gentle rolls.

You kissed him back, tongues tangling softly, the devotion in his touch as intense as ever, the fire casting golden light over your joined bodies in the tangled sheets.

The laughter faded into soft sighs as your grinding slowed, but the heat between you lingered, his cock still semi-hard inside your pulsing pussy.

Eris's eyes darkened with renewed hunger, his hands roaming your back possessively. Without a word, he rolled you both over, the sheets twisting beneath you as he laid you down gently against the soft fabric, your hair fanning out like a halo in the firelight.

He hovered above you, muscles flexing as he braced on his forearms, his gaze intense and adoring. "You're mine now," he murmured, voice low and gravelly, before thrusting back into you with a single, deep stroke.

Your back arched off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips as his thick cock stretched you again, filling the ache that never quite satisfied.

You leaned up biting his ear as you whispered, “I’ve always been yours.” Eris moaned at your words and kept fucking into you.

Eris set a steady rhythm, pulling out almost to the tip before slamming back in, his hips snapping against yours with controlled power. The floor creaked under the force, the fire's glow dancing over sweat-slicked skin as he fucked you harder, deeper, each plunge hitting that sweet spot inside.

His balls slapped against your ass with every thrust, the wet sounds of your joined bodies filling the room.

"Gods, I want to fill you up," he groaned, his breath hot against your ear, pace quickening as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Pump you full of my cum, breed you like you deserve. Carry my child, love—swell with me inside you. Waited centuries for this, to claim you completely, to see you round with our future." His words were raw, laced with that primal need, his cock throbbing as he ground against your cervix, imagining it.

You nodded frantically, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Leaning up, you captured his lips in a fierce kiss, tongues clashing as you whispered against his mouth, "Please."

The plea ignited him. Eris growled into the kiss, his thrusts turning relentless, pounding into your pussy with bruising force. He hooked one of your legs over his hip, angling deeper, the friction building that coil in your core once more.

"Yes, that's it—take it all. I'll breed you, fill this perfect cunt until it overflows." His free hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in firm strokes, pushing you toward the edge.

Pleasure built fast, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing his cock as he chased his release. He came with a guttural moan, hot seed spilling deep inside you in thick ropes, coating your insides.

The sensation tipped you over, your orgasm ripping through you, pussy clenching to milk every drop from him. You shuddered together, his weight pressing you into the sheets as aftershocks trembled through your limbs.

Eris stayed buried inside, softening slowly as he peppered your face with kisses, his devotion shining in his eyes. "Forever mine," he whispered, nuzzling your neck, the fire crackling softly beside your entwined forms.

As the tremors of your shared release ebbed away, you lay there beneath Eris, his body a warm, solid weight pinning you to the rumpled sheets. His cock remained nestled deep within your cum-filled pussy, a comforting fullness that made you feel utterly claimed.

The fire's embers cast a soft, flickering light over his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

Your fingers, still tingling from the intensity, reached up to trace the contours of his face. You started at his temple, brushing lightly over the smooth skin there, then down along the high ridge of his cheekbone.

His eyes fluttered half-closed, a contented hum rumbling in his chest as he watched you through heavy lids. "My love," he murmured, voice husky from exertion, pressing a lazy kiss to your palm when your hand cupped his cheek.

Emboldened by the intimacy, your touch wandered lower, skimming the edge of his lips—full and slightly swollen from your kisses—before trailing along his strong jawline.

He nuzzled into your hand, stubble grazing your skin, his breath warm and even against your wrist. The devotion in his gaze never wavered, even in this quiet aftermath, as if he could stare at you for another century and never tire.

Your exploration continued to his arms, where they braced on either side of you, muscles relaxed but still defined under your fingertips. Scars marred the skin—faint, silvery lines from battles long past, reminders of the centuries he'd endured without you.

You traced one that curved from his elbow to his forearm, a jagged path that spoke of old wounds, your nails lightly scraping over the raised tissue. Eris shivered at the contact, his cock twitching faintly inside you, stirring a soft gasp from your lips.

“These scars... they've seen so much,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion, as you followed another mark snaking across his bicep, pressing gentle kisses to the healed flesh.

He shifted slightly, grinding deeper without meaning to, the motion sending a lazy spark of pleasure through your core. "But now they're mine to touch, to heal with every stroke."

Eris's hand came up to cover yours, guiding it back to his face as he leaned down, forehead resting against yours. "And you're the balm I've waited for," he replied softly, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, bodies molding together seamlessly.

The steady throb of him inside you lulled you both, a rhythmic pulse that matched your slowing heartbeats.

Sleep tugged at the edges of your awareness, the warmth of the fire and his embrace wrapping you in security. Your eyelids grew heavy as you continued to map his features one last time—thumb brushing his lower lip, fingers threading through his damp hair—before letting out a contented sigh.

He stayed right there, unmoving, his presence a promise as you drifted off, intimately connected in every way.

✷☽✦☾✷☽✦☾✷

Morning came slowly, like the world itself wasn’t ready to disturb the quiet wrapped around you.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting a dim, golden light across the room. The air was warm, thick with the lingering comfort of the night before—of tangled sheets, soft whispers, and skin still pressed close.

You were deep in that hazy space between sleep and waking when you felt it—

A small, wet lick against your cheek.

Your nose scrunched immediately, a soft, sleepy sound leaving you as your brows furrowed. “Mm… no…”

Another lick.

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to see one of Eris’s hounds hovering far too close to your face, its tail wagging slowly like it had accomplished something important.

Behind you, a low, irritated sound rumbled.

Eris shifted, his arm tightening around your waist as he instinctively pulled you closer, dragging the covers higher up your body as if to shield you. “Absolutely not,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

The second hound took that as an invitation.

It pushed its way between the two of you, nose nudging insistently until it had carved out a place for itself, effectively separating your bodies.

Eris went still.

Then slowly—very slowly—his eyes opened.

The glare he fixed on the hounds could have rivaled wildfire.

“Traitors,” he muttered under his breath, his voice edged with mock offense as he stared at them. “Both of you.”

A quiet giggle slipped from you, soft and warm as you turned in the small space left to face him. “They missed us,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

“They are actively sabotaging me,” he replied flatly, though his hand never left you, fingers still resting against your side as if grounding himself.

One of the hounds let out a content huff, curling tighter against your chest.

You smiled, reaching down to gently scratch behind its ears. “You’re just jealous.”

“I am,” Eris said without hesitation, his eyes narrowing slightly as the other hound settled more firmly between you. “They are in my place.”

That earned another soft laugh from you, the sound light and unguarded as you leaned forward just enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re still right here.”

His expression softened instantly.

The sharpness faded, replaced by something quieter—something that only ever existed when he looked at you like this.

You shifted a little closer despite the hounds’ interference, your hand lifting to brush his hair back from his face. It fell messily across his forehead, softer than he ever allowed it to be outside this room.

Eris leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you.

The hounds, now thoroughly settled, sighed in contentment—one pressed to your chest, the other wedged stubbornly between your bodies.

For a moment, none of you spoke.

It was just… stillness.

Warmth.

Peace.

Your fingers drifted absentmindedly along his temple, your eyes growing heavier again as sleep began to pull at you once more. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the quiet crackle of the dying fire, the weight of the hounds—it all blurred together into something soft and safe.

You didn’t notice when your eyes fully closed.

But Eris did.

His gaze lingered on your face, memorizing the way your expression softened in sleep, the way your hand remained loosely curled against him even as you drifted.

His thumb brushed lightly over your arm.

And then, so quietly it barely disturbed the air, he whispered, “I would’ve waited forever for moments like this.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the hounds, still pressed between you, and despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“I would burn the world down for these moments,” he added, softer now.

He leaned forward carefully, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead—warm, reverent. Then another to the tip of your nose, gentle enough not to wake you.

The hounds stirred slightly, as if sensing the shift.

Eris exhaled quietly, his hand moving to rest briefly on each of their heads. One by one, he pressed a kiss to them as well, his earlier irritation long gone.

“Still traitors,” he murmured under his breath, though there was no bite to it now.

Then he settled back in, pulling the covers just a little higher around all of you, his arm tightening once more around your waist despite the barrier between you.

The room fell silent again.

Azriel x mate!reader

Summary: After returning from a month-long mission, Azriel finally reunites with you. And there are finally certain talks of the future.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, breeding kink (kind of), slight overstimulation.

Authors note: omg who is this girl?? Two posts in the same week…🫢. But actually… I love this short so much so as always enjoy🫶🏻!

Main Masterlist:

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Steam curls through the room in soft waves, fogging the glass walls and turning everything warm and hazy.

Azriel stood beneath the water with his head tipped back, hands running through his dark hair as exhaustion finally started melting from his body. A month away. A month without you.

And when he'd returned to the House only to find your side of the room empty, your scent faint and distant, something restless had settled beneath Azriel's skin.

Not anger.

Never anger at you.

Just the quiet ache of absence after too many nights alone.

The room had been exactly as you'd left it—your book abandoned on the nightstand, one of your sweaters draped carelessly across the chair near the fireplace, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the sheets.

Close enough to tease him.

Not close enough to satisfy the hollow feeling in his chest.

Azriel had stood there for a long moment in silence, exhaustion heavy in his bones from weeks away on missions and bloodshed and sleepless nights.

But none of that had weighed on him as much as not finding you waiting there.

His shadows had drifted through the room restlessly, almost searching.

Looking for their favorite person.

Looking for you.

With a quiet sigh, Azriel had stripped off his leathers and stepped into the shower, letting scorching water pour over tired muscles while steam slowly filled the bathroom.

Even then, his mind stayed on you.

Wondering where you were.

If you'd missed him half as much as he'd missed you.

The soft creak of the bathroom door made his shadows stir first.

They perked up instantly, wisps of darkness swirling toward the doorway with sudden excitement.

Then Azriel turned.

And there you were.

Standing quietly in the doorway with wide innocent eyes, warm light catching against your skin while steam curled between the two of you.

Every ounce of tension left his body the second he saw you.

Azriel glanced over his shoulder, and the second his hazel eyes landed on you standing there in the doorway, something in his expression softened completely.

"There you are," he murmured.

You leaned against the doorframe innocently, though your gaze slowly dragged down his completely naked body with absolutely no shame.

A smirk tugged at your lips.

Azriel rolled his eyes immediately. "Sweetheart."

You only smiled wider.

Water slid down the planes of his chest as he turned toward you fully, one scarred hand pushing wet hair from his face before he gave a small nod toward the shower.

"Join me, sweet girl."

The gentleness in his voice made warmth bloom through your chest.

You nodded shyly before peeling your clothes away piece by piece beneath his watchful stare. Azriel's eyes darkened slightly, his gaze tracing every inch of exposed skin like he was memorizing you all over again.

The second you stepped under the water, you hissed.

"It's freezing!"

Azriel blinked. "It is not—"

You reached past him and immediately turned the heat higher.

Azriel groaned dramatically as hotter steam filled the shower. "Cauldron save me."

A laugh escaped you. "Deal with it."

His mouth twitched.

Then his hands slid around your waist, large and warm against your skin as he tugged you flush against his body.

The laughter faded instantly the second his hands tightened around your waist.

Gods, you had missed him.

Missed the warmth of him.

The steady strength in his touch.

The way Azriel always held you like something precious and desired all at once.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You simply looked at each other beneath the cascading water, steam curling thickly around your bodies while droplets slid down his skin.

Azriel's hazel eyes searched your face slowly, almost greedily, like he was making sure you were truly here. Truly safe. Truly back in his arms after too many weeks apart.

Then his gaze dropped to your lips.

A quiet, shaky breath left him.

And without another word, Azriel leaned down and kissed you the second the laughter faded between you, and the feeling of his lips against yours after an entire month apart nearly made your knees weaken.

The kiss was warm and consuming, filled with everything he hadn't been able to say while he was gone.

One of his hands slid firmly around your waist while the other moved up your back, settling gently at the nape of your neck as though he needed to keep you close.

The water cascaded over both of you, steam curling thickly through the shower, but Azriel barely seemed aware of any of it.

His entire focus was on you—the way you sighed softly against his mouth, the way your hands instinctively found his shoulders, the way your body melted into his like it belonged there.

A low groan escaped him when you kissed him back harder, and the sound alone sent warmth rushing through you.

He deepened the kiss naturally, unhurried but intense, like he was savoring every second while still unable to get enough.

Weeks of missing you sat inside every movement of his mouth against yours.

Every touch carried restrained longing.

Azriel kissed you like a man who had spent too many nights thinking about the feel of you and finally couldn't hold himself back anymore now that you were standing in front of him again.

His fingers flexed against your waist as he pulled you closer beneath the hot water, forehead brushing yours briefly before he kissed you again.

Slower this time. More deliberate. Like he was relearning you through touch alone.

The familiar scent of your skin, the softness of your lips, the quiet breaths you gave him between kisses—it all seemed to undo him piece by piece.

And when your fingers slid into his wet hair, holding him against you, Azriel let out another rough sound against your mouth, the carefully controlled shadowsinger finally cracking beneath how badly he had missed his mate.

A quiet groan left him the second your lips parted for him, like he'd been holding the sound in for weeks. His hands tightened at your waist while water poured over both of you, your bodies fitting together like they'd never been apart.

You giggled softly against his mouth at the sound he made, and Azriel smiled into the kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

"Where were you?" he whispered against your lips. "I waited for you."

Your expression softened immediately.

"I had to help Feyre with Nyx, my love."

Azriel nodded once, understanding instantly.

Of course you had.

His mate was too kind for her own good.

He dipped his head, lips brushing slowly along your neck while his hands smoothed over your sides beneath the cascading water.

"You're so good with him," he murmured between soft kisses.

You sighed quietly, tilting your head to give him more access as his shadows curled lazily around your wrists and waist.

"He's adorable," you whispered.

Azriel hummed against your skin, pressing another lingering kiss beneath your ear before pulling back just enough to look at you.

Azriel's lips lingered against your throat, warm water cascading over both of you while his hands rested gently against your waist.

For a moment, there was only steam and soft kisses and the quiet sound of breathing.

Azriel's lips lingered against the side of your neck, softer now compared to the desperate kisses from moments before. The steam around you had grown thick enough to blur the edges of the room, hot water sliding over both of your bodies while his hands rested securely at your waist.

For a few quiet seconds, neither of you spoke.

You simply stood there wrapped in each other, breathing the same air after weeks apart.

Then you felt Azriel hesitate.

It was subtle.

A slight pause in the movement of his lips against your skin. The faint tightening of his fingers at your waist like he was thinking too hard about something. Even his shadows slowed, curling uncertainly around the tile floor instead of dancing lazily around you like before.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.

Almost careful.

"Would you want kids?"

The question settled between you gently, but it still stole the breath from your lungs.

Your body went completely still beneath his hands.

Not because the idea upset you.

Not because you wanted to pull away.

But because hearing Azriel ask it so softly—so vulnerably—caught you completely off guard.

This male who hid every emotion behind sharp control and unreadable silence had just asked you something painfully real.

Something important.

Azriel noticed your stillness immediately.

Of course he did.

His lips stopped moving against your neck as concern flickered across his face almost instantly. His hands loosened slightly from your waist, like he was already preparing to give you space if you needed it.

The confidence and hunger from moments before faded into uncertainty so quickly it almost hurt to see.

His hands loosened from your waist at once as he leaned back slightly, shadows recoiling with his sudden uncertainty. Regret flashed across his face almost instantly.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have—"

You turned sharply toward him before he could finish.

Then shoved him hard against the cool glass wall.

Azriel's eyes widened slightly at the sudden movement, water dripping down his face as your hands gripped his jaw and you kissed him fiercely.

There was nothing hesitant about it.

No uncertainty.

No embarrassment.

Every ounce of your answer was poured into the way your lips crashed against his.

Certain.

Intentional.

Like you needed him to understand immediately just how much that future meant to you too.

Azriel made a rough sound against your mouth, clearly stunned for half a second before his hands gripped your waist tightly, instinctively pulling you closer against him.

Water streamed down both of your bodies while steam clouded around the two of you, but the only thing either of you seemed capable of focusing on was the overwhelming emotion tangled inside the kiss.

Because it wasn't just desire anymore.

It was relief.

Love.

The realization that the future Azriel secretly wanted—the one he'd likely barely allowed himself to imagine—was something you wanted too.

You kissed him harder, fingers tangled in wet dark hair as though you needed to erase every bit of doubt from his mind.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his while Azriel stared at you like he was trying to understand the answer hidden inside that kiss.

Your cheeks were flushed from the heat, from him, from the vulnerability in the question.

"With you?" you whispered softly. "Yes."

Azriel went completely still.

The shadowsinger who faced kings and monsters without fear looked utterly wrecked by two simple words.

"Yes?" he breathed.

You smiled then, smaller this time, gentler, your fingers brushing wet strands of hair from his forehead.

"Yes, Az."

Emotion cracked across his face so quickly it nearly hurt to look at.

His hands tightened around your waist before he buried his face against your neck again, holding you impossibly close like he couldn't quite believe you were real.

The shadows around him swirled wildly with quiet excitement.

And against your skin, you felt Azriel smile.

Azriel lifted his head from your neck slowly, his hands still firm against your waist.

His hazel eyes were darker now. They were still warm, but also hungry with lust.

"Can we now?" he asked lowly, the words edged with unmistakable want.

You blinked at him before laughter bubbled softly from your lips.

One hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back lightly against the fogged glass again.

"Right now?" you whispered teasingly.

Azriel nodded immediately.

His gaze dragged shamelessly over your body beneath the steaming water, like he still couldn't believe you were standing here with him after a month apart.

You smirked at the look on his face. "We can practice for it, my love."

The sound Azriel made was somewhere between a groan and a curse.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes fluttering shut briefly as your fingertips brushed slowly across his stomach. "I missed you so much."

Your expression softened despite the teasing glint still in your eyes.

You leaned closer until your lips barely brushed his. "Yeah?"

He nodded once, almost desperately. "Yeah."

Then he kissed you again. Harder this time full of need

Like the month apart had finally snapped whatever restraint he'd been trying to hold onto.

Azriel's hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently into your damp hair as he tilted your head back for him. The kiss deepened instantly—slow at first, then consuming the second you melted against him.

A low groan rumbled from his chest when your hands moved across his shoulders.

The sound vibrated straight through you.

Hot water poured over both of your bodies while steam thickened around the shower, but Azriel barely seemed to notice any of it. Every bit of his attention was fixed on you—your lips, your breath, the soft little sighs you gave him between kisses.

Like he was trying to relearn you through touch alone.

His scarred hands wandered carefully over your waist and back, almost reverent for a moment before his grip tightened with want, pulling you impossibly closer against him.

You could feel how badly he'd missed you in every movement.

In the way he kissed you like he was starving.

In the way his forehead pressed against yours every few seconds like he needed reassurance you were actually here.

"Gods," he muttered breathlessly against your mouth. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You smiled faintly between kisses, fingers brushing through the wet strands of his dark hair, and Azriel immediately kissed you deeper at the touch.

His shadows curled around your thighs and wrists lazily, restless with his emotions while he backed you gently against the warm tile.

The kiss turned slower then.

More dangerous.

The kind that made your head spin.

Azriel pulled away only far enough to drag his lips along your jaw, breathing you in like he'd been deprived of your scent for too long before whispering against your skin.

"I thought about this every night."

And then the kiss deepened, he groaned softly into your mouth like he never wanted to stop touching you again.

The kiss broke only when your lungs burned for air, but even then Azriel's mouth chased yours, pressing soft, desperate pecks against your lips before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, strands of wet hair clinging to his forehead.

"Turn around," he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and rough. "I can't wait to fuck you so full that you have my baby."

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, at the raw promise in them.

You moaned softly, nodding without hesitation, and he spun you both in one fluid motion, pressing your back against the cool, tiled wall.

The contrast of the hot water raining down and the cold stone against your skin made you gasp.

Azriel didn't give you time to think. He brought his fingers to your lips, two of them pressing against your tongue.

"Open," he commanded softly, and you obeyed, sucking them into your mouth, tasting salt and water and the faint musk of his skin.

He watched you with hooded eyes, his jaw tight, as you hollowed your cheeks around his fingers.

When he pulled them out, they glistened with your saliva.

He dragged them down your body—over your collarbone, between your breasts, across your stomach—until they reached the slick heat between your legs. He didn't tease.

He pushed two fingers inside you in one smooth, deliberate motion, stretching you open.

Your head fell back against the wall with a sharp moan, your hips instinctively pressing forward to take him deeper. "Azriel..."

"Yeah, baby, I know," he murmured, his thumb circling your clit while his fingers pumped slowly, knuckle-deep. "I know you need this."

He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat, sucking at the pulse point that fluttered wildly beneath his lips.

When he slipped a third finger inside you, the stretch made you cry out, your nails scraping against the wet tile.

"Oh gods... oh gods..." He pulled back just enough to catch your eye, a dark smirk curving his lips. "Not my name, sweet girl."

You whined, a needy sound that made his smirk widen. He kissed you softly, almost tenderly, before whispering against your lips, "Say my name."

Your eyes locked with his, and even through the haze of pleasure, you felt the weight of that command. "Azriel..." you breathed, the word a plea, a prayer.

He nodded, satisfaction flickering in his gaze. "Good girl."

You ground your hips against his hand, the pressure building, coiling low in your belly. "Please... can I?"

His lips brushed yours. "Come for me, baby. Come all over my fingers. Show me how good you feel."

That was all you needed. With a broken moan of his name, you shattered, your body clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He worked you through it, slowing his pace until you sagged against the wall, panting.

Azriel pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his own lips and tasting you with a low groan. "Such a good mate for me."

Your hand slid down his stomach, wrapping around his thick, hard cock. He hissed, his hips jerking into your grip. "Fuck... such a greedy girl, huh?"

You nodded, stroking him slowly, watching his eyes flutter half-closed. "Please, Azriel. I need you inside me."

He kissed you hard, a quick, claiming press of lips. "Don't need to beg for my cock, baby. It's yours."

He turned you around before you could respond, bending you forward until your palms pressed flat against the cool glass of the shower wall.

Your cheek rested against the slick surface, and you could see the blurry reflection of your own body—wet, flushed, completely at his mercy.

Azriel's hand traced down your spine, each touch sending shivers through your overstimulated skin.

He squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh, and you moaned at the sharp sting of pleasure-pain.

"Such a pretty ass," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Then he lined himself up, and the head of his cock pushed against your soaked entrance.

He slid in slowly—agonizingly slowly—and you both groaned at the feeling of him stretching you open.

When he was fully sheathed, he paused, letting you adjust.

"Azriel..." you whimpered.

He didn't make you wait any longer.

He started fucking you hard, his hips slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust.

The glass steamed up beneath your hands, and you cried out with every stroke. "Harder... please, harder..."

He gave it to you, driving into you with a rhythm that stole your breath. One hand gripped your hip, the other came down on your ass with a sharp smack that echoed off the tiles. You yelped, moaning his name.

Then his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against his chest. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"You have such a good pussy," he growled, his voice dark and low. "Taking my cock so well. Such a good girl for me."

You smiled despite the intensity, the praise mixing with the rough pace, and he caught it.

He smacked your ass again, harder this time. "Dirty girl, smiling while I'm fucking you like this."

You clenched around him involuntarily, and the pleasure crested all over again. With a cry, you came, your body shuddering violently against his.

Azriel growled, pulling out just enough to slap his cock against your swollen, sensitive clit. You gasped, the overstimulation making you whimper and cry as he did it again, each tap sending jolts of electric pleasure through your spent nerves.

"Oh baby, did you come?" he rasped, his tone teasing but breathless.

You nodded, tears mixing with the water streaming down your face. "Yes... yes, I came..."

"Good girl," he murmured, and then he was inside you again, thrusting even harder than before.

He let go of your throat, and your face smashed against the glass, the cool surface pressing against your flushed cheek.

You could barely think, barely breathe, lost in the relentless rhythm as he fucked you through your orgasm and toward his own.

"Come again," he commanded, his voice tight, his pace faltering. "Come with me, baby. Give me another one."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, a second climax ripping through you as Azriel buried himself deep, groaning your name as he spilled inside you.

His thrusts slowed, then stopped, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade as both of you panted, steam curling around your entwined bodies.

Water droplets still clung to your skin as you felt the slow, deliberate withdrawal of his body from yours.

The emptiness where he had been was immediate, stark, and you whimpered at the loss, the slick sound of his cock slipping out of your spent cunt echoing softly in the quiet.

Azriel's hands found your back immediately, large palms smoothing over the wet, sensitive skin in long, soothing strokes.

You let him guide you upright, your legs trembling as you straightened from your bent position against the glass.

He turned you gently, his fingers never leaving your body, until you were facing him, chest to chest, nipples brushing against his firm pecs.

He tugged you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, and began to sway you both in a slow, intimate rhythm.

The steam still curled around you, the last remnants of heat clinging to the air. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss so tender it made your heart ache—soft, unhurried, full of everything words couldn't capture.

You moaned into his mouth, letting him lead, letting the kiss say all the things you'd missed for a month.

His hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh firmly. A giggle escaped you, breaking the kiss for a moment, and you felt his smile against your lips.

"You're impossible," you murmured, but there was no heat in it.

He didn't answer. Instead, he bent low, hooking his arms under your thighs, and lifted you as though you weighed nothing.

You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively, your slick, spent bodies pressed together.

He turned, carrying you out of the spray, and his hand reached for the shower handle.

The water cut off with a sharp screech. The sudden cold hit your wet skin, and you hissed, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck. Azriel chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated against your cheek.

"Cold, baby?" he teased, but he was already moving, stepping out of the shower onto the bath mat, leaving wet footprints across the floor.

He laid you down on the bed without ceremony, the cool sheets shocking against your overheated skin.

You let out a whine, wiggling uncomfortably as you felt the dampness soaking into the mattress.

"The bed's going to get wet," you complained, your voice still thick with post-orgasmic haze.

He shushed you softly, crawling in beside you, pulling the blanket over both of you despite the dampness.

His arm slid under your head, the other wrapping around your waist, tugging you flush against his body as if he couldn't bear even an inch of space between you.

"Don't care," he murmured against your hair. "Just want you in my arms."

You sighed, the tension melting from your body. After nearly a full month apart—lonely nights, cold sheets, restless sleep—this was finally home.

Your mate. Your Azriel. His warmth seeped into you, his heartbeat steady against your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

You felt his lips press a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. And another, trailing lazily up to your ear.

"Sleep, sweet girl," he whispered. "I've got you."

And as your eyelids grew heavy, as the safety of his embrace cocooned you, you let yourself drift.

For the first time in weeks, the nightmare of distance faded away, and the only dream waiting for you was the warmth of his body curled around yours.

Part V

Lucien Vanserra x oc!tamlinssister

Summary: you have been waiting a month for your mate to join you in the night court and when it finally happens, you and Lucien finally get your happy ending. And a mating frenzy.

Warnings: smut, p in v, breeding kink…?, mating frenzy

Authors note: I am so sorry I waited so long to finally post the last two chapters. I had them for a while but just didn’t think they were that good but I hope you guys still enjoy them. And yes, there is much more for Lucien, I love writing for him and will continue to do so!! Also yes… this is the last part of the series and I enjoyed writing this one so much🫶🏻

Main Masterlist:

Previous Part:

Taglist: @munsonintheupside

✧✵✧✷✧✵✧✷✧

It had been a month of waiting.

A month of waking up with that same hollow feeling in your chest.

A month of standing on balconies, staring toward lands you couldn't see, as if somehow that would bring him closer.

A month of replaying the last time you touched Lucien over and over again in your mind.

Hoping.

Just hoping.

When Rhysand finally told you he had heard from Feyre Archeron, your entire body had gone still.

"They're on foot," he said. "Heading here."

You hadn't even realized you'd stopped breathing until he stepped closer, concern flickering across his face.

On foot.

That meant time.

Distance.

Danger.

But it also meant—

Lucien was coming.

To you.

Gods, you couldn't wait.

And now it had been another week.

A week of pacing the streets of Velaris.

A week of jumping at every sound, every shadow, every flicker of movement at the edges of the city.

A week of feeling the bond shift—just barely—like something was getting closer... but not close enough.

It was torture.

Hope was its own kind of pain.

You stood at the edge of the Sidra, the cool breeze brushing against your skin as your eyes scanned the horizon again, like you had done a hundred times before.

"They'll be here," Rhys had told you that morning.

Soon.

Always soon.

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides as your chest tightened.

What if something happened?

What if they didn't make it?

What if—

You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the thoughts away.

No.

He was coming.

He had to be.

Because the bond—

Even faint, even distant—

Was pulling.

And for the first time in months...

It didn't feel like emptiness.

It felt like something returning.

You barely heard anything else the moment the doors opened.

All you saw—

Was him.

Lucien Vanserra.

Alive.

Here.

Your breath caught, and then you were moving before you even realized it—running straight toward him.

"Lucien—!"

He turned just in time before you collided with him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you jumped into him. He caught you instantly, like he had done it a thousand times before, holding you tight—too tight—like he was afraid you'd disappear.

His face buried into your neck.

And then—

He broke.

A quiet, shaking breath left him, and you felt it—his tears against your skin.

"I've got you," you whispered, your fingers tangling into his hair as you held him just as tightly. "I've got you..."

Across the room, Feyre Archeron dropped to her knees, and Rhysand was there in an instant, lifting her into his arms and carrying her away without a word.

The others followed.

Quietly.

Respectfully.

Until it was just you and him.

You didn't wait.

The moment you were alone, your lips crashed into his.

Desperate.

Needing.

Lucien groaned softly against your lips, one of his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss like he'd been waiting just as long as you had.

You broke just enough to breathe, your forehead pressing against his.

"I missed you," you whispered.

His nose nudged against yours, his voice rough, full of everything he hadn't been able to say for months.

"You have no idea."

Your heart squeezed.

He finally set you down, but his hand never left yours.

Not even for a second.

You smiled softly, tugging him along with you. "Come on."

You pulled him through the halls, straight to your chambers.

The moment the door shut behind you, everything felt quieter. Safer.

He looked around briefly before his gaze landed back on you. "How have they treated you?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You shrugged lightly as you moved toward the bathing room. "I haven't been around everyone much," you admitted. "But... they've welcomed me."

Lucien nodded, some of the tension in him easing at that.

You turned back to him, your fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them.

"Take a bath," you murmured softly. "You need it."

A small smile tugged at his lips, something warm and familiar returning to his expression.

"Only if you join me."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head—but your answer was already there as you nodded.

"Of course."

You shed your clothes without hesitation, stepping into the warm water beside him.

The moment he sank in with you, the tension in his body finally seemed to melt.

You moved closer, your arms wrapping around him as he pulled you in just as tightly, your bodies fitting together like they always had.

When you finally made it back to your bed, the world outside the room faded completely.

It was quiet.

Still.

Safe.

And for the first time in months... you weren't alone in it.

Lucien Vanserra lay beside you, propped slightly on his side, his gaze fixed entirely on you like he couldn't look away—even if he tried.

His fingers lifted slowly, almost hesitantly, tracing along your cheek, your jaw... like he was memorizing you all over again.

You smiled softly at him, turning your head just enough to press a gentle kiss to his fingertips.

His breath hitched.

"I've dreamed of this," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "For months... I dreamed of hearing you breathe again. Of seeing you... touching you..."

Your heart ached and swelled all at once.

You leaned closer, your forehead resting against his. "You're here," you whispered. "You're with me."

Lucien nodded, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

"We're free from him," he murmured.

The words broke something open inside you.

A tear slipped down your temple as you nodded, your hands finding him, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go again.

"I know..."

He kissed you again—slow, grounding, full of everything you had both been forced to hold back for so long.

No rush.

No desperation.

Just home.

You curled into him, his arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you against his chest as your breathing finally began to even out.

His hand moved gently through your hair, steady, soothing.

And for the first time in months—

No fear.

No distance.

No waiting.

Just warmth.

Just him.

Your mate.

Sleep came easily after that.

Wrapped together, hearts finally at peace—

Exactly where you were always meant to be.

✧✵✧✷✧✵✧✷✧

Winter had settled softly over Velaris, snow dusting the rooftops and quieting the world in a way that felt... right.

Peaceful.

The war was over.

And for the first time, you weren't waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

You had spent days thinking about it—turning it over in your mind, in your heart—until the answer became clear.

You were ready.

Ready to accept the bond.

Ready to choose him in every way that mattered.

Rhysand hadn't even hesitated when you asked.

A small, knowing smile had crossed his face as he nodded.

"Take the cabin," he had said simply. "You both deserve your happy ending."

And you had thanked him—truly thanked him—before he waved you off like it was nothing.

Now, standing in the quiet of the mountains, snow crunching beneath your boots, your heart pounded for an entirely different reason.

You stood behind Lucien Vanserra, your hands gently covering his eyes as you guided him forward.

He let you, a soft chuckle leaving him as his hands rested lightly over yours.

"My fox," he murmured, voice warm with curiosity, "where are we?"

You smiled, even though he couldn't see it.

"Patience," you whispered.

You pushed the door open, the cabin already warmed by a crackling fire, the scent of wood and winter wrapping around you both as you guided him inside.

"Alright," you said softly, stepping around him.

You slowly lowered your hands from his eyes.

Lucien blinked, taking in the space—the firelight, the quiet, the complete privacy.

His brows lifted slightly as he looked back at you.

"What is this?" he asked, softer now.

You stepped closer, your fingers finding his, squeezing gently.

"A place for us," you said.

Just that.

No court.

No expectations.

No one watching.

Just you and your mate.

His gaze softened instantly, something deeper flickering behind his eyes as he looked at you—really looked at you.

"Fox..." he started, but the words faltered.

You stepped closer, your free hand rising to rest against his cheek.

"I'm ready," you whispered.

The air shifted.

Something ancient and powerful seemed to hum between you, the bond pulsing faintly—waiting.

Lucien went completely still, his breath catching as his hand came up to cover yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, your thumb brushing along his skin.

"I don't want to wait anymore," you said softly. "I choose you. Fully. No more holding back."

Emotion broke across his face—raw, unguarded, overwhelming.

His forehead pressed against yours, his voice barely more than a breath.

"You already had me," he whispered.

Your lips curved faintly. "Now I'm taking you properly."

A quiet, breathless laugh left him before he kissed you—slow, deep, reverent.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Certain.

The bond flared between you—bright, warm, undeniable—as everything finally settled into place.

Right.

As it was always meant to be.

Lucien's lips crashed back into yours, a low, possessive sound rumbling in his chest as his hands tightened at your waist.

But you smiled into the kiss—and then pushed him back.

He blinked at you, slightly breathless, a smirk already forming as you turned and walked further into the cabin.

"Come on," you tossed over your shoulder.

Of course, he followed.

The moment he stepped fully inside, his gaze shifted—taking in the small table, the soft candlelight, the food you had carefully prepared.

Realization dawned.

That smirk deepened.

He moved behind you slowly, his hands finding your hips as his lips brushed your neck. "So this is where you've been all day," he murmured.

You shrugged lightly, trying to ignore the way your breath hitched at the feeling of him.

His fingers slipped into your hair, moving it aside as his mouth lingered at your skin. "I would have liked to wake up next to my mate," he whispered against your neck, voice low and warm, "but... learning what she's been doing all day..."

His lips pressed just beneath your ear.

"I suppose I can get over it."

A soft sound escaped you despite yourself, your body leaning into him for half a second—

Before you pushed him back again, more firmly this time.

"You need to eat," you said, trying to sound composed.

Lucien didn't argue.

But he didn't look away from you either.

His eyes dragged slowly over you, heat flickering behind them in a way that made your breath catch all over again.

"This might be the only time we bother with food for a while," he said casually.

Your stomach flipped.

"Lucien—"

"Unless," he added, that smirk turning wicked, "I decide I prefer other options."

Your eyes widened instantly, heat rushing to your face as you pointed sharply at the table.

"Sit down."

He laughed—actually laughed—as he finally pulled out the chair, clearly far too pleased with himself as he sat.

But his gaze never left you.

Not for a second.

And something told you...

Dinner wouldn't be the only thing keeping you both busy tonight.

✧✵✧✷✧✵✧✷✧

As you sat across from Lucien, trying to focus on your meal, it became harder with every passing second.

The bond between you wasn't quiet anymore.

It pulsed.

Warm.

Insistent.

Pulling at both of you like it had finally been given permission to exist fully.

You could feel him through it—his attention, his want, his patience slowly wearing thin.

Lucien had finished eating nearly ten minutes ago.

Now he just watched you.

Completely.

His hand rested along your leg, slowly brushing back and forth, absent-minded but grounding at the same time. His eyes followed every movement you made—every bite, every word, every small shift of your lips as you spoke.

There was something almost dangerous about how focused he was.

Like he was holding himself back.

Barely.

But he didn't interrupt you.

Didn't rush you.

Because he knew you.

Knew you well enough to listen—actually listen—because you had a habit of catching him when he didn't.

And he wasn't about to fail that now.

So he sat there, nodding at the right moments, responding when needed... even as his thumb traced slow circles against your leg, even as his gaze kept dropping to your mouth.

Waiting.

Eventually, you finished.

You wiped your mouth slowly, deliberately.

And then you just... looked at him.

Really looked at him.

His patience.

His restraint.

The way he was trying so hard—

Your breath hitched slightly.

Then, softly—

"I don't think I can wait anymore."

Lucien stilled.

Your voice dropped just a little more, your eyes locked on his.

"I need you to fuck me.”

That was all it took.

His control snapped instantly.

His chair scraped back as he was on his feet in a second, crossing the space between you like he'd been waiting for permission this entire time.

His lips found yours, hard and certain, the kiss full of everything he had been holding back all night.

A quiet, relieved breath left him against your mouth.

And the bond between you surged—

Bright.

Alive.

Finally answered.

You barely had time to steady yourself before his hands were on you, lifting you effortlessly.

A soft gasp left you as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms sliding around his shoulders as you clung to him.

Lucien let out a low, relieved sound, his forehead pressing briefly against yours.

"Thank fuck," he breathed, the words rough with emotion more than anything else.

Not just desire—

Relief.

Longing.

Months of waiting finally breaking.

You smiled against him, your fingers threading into his hair as you leaned in, brushing your lips along his jaw.

"I was starting to think you'd never make a move," you teased softly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, tightening his hold on you as he turned toward the stairs.

"Careful," he murmured, glancing up at you with heat in his eyes. "You won't like how fast I prove you wrong."

Your heart raced as he carried you upstairs, each step steady but purposeful, like he had been imagining this moment just as much as you had.

The cabin felt smaller now.

Quieter.

Like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you again.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, his grip on you had only tightened, his head dipping slightly as his lips brushed your shoulder, your neck—slow, lingering touches that sent warmth rushing through you.

Every step closer felt like crossing a line you had both been waiting months to reach.

And neither of you were turning back.

He barely made it through the doorway before setting you down—

No, not gently.

Decisively.

The mattress dipped beneath you as Lucien Vanserra let you fall back against it, his hands still gripping your waist like he wasn't ready to let go even for a second.

For a heartbeat, he just looked at you.

Chest rising.

Eyes dark.

Focused only on you.

Then he followed you down.

One hand braced beside your head, the other sliding up your side as he leaned over you, his hair falling forward slightly.

His gaze flicked over your face—your eyes, your lips—like he was taking it all in again, making sure this was real.

"Mine," he murmured softly, not possessive in a harsh way—just certain.

You didn't even have time to respond before he dipped his head and kissed you.

Slow at first.

Deep.

Intentional.

Like he was savoring it this time—no rush, no fear of losing you again.

Your hands came up to his shoulders, pulling him closer as you melted into him, months of distance closing in a single moment.

His lips moved against yours with quiet intensity, every touch filled with everything he hadn't been able to give you before.

You moaned softly as Lucien's fingers deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, his lips trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you.

"Gods, I need you so bad," you whispered against his ear, your voice heavy with desire. "I've been dreaming about this moment for months."

Lucien groaned, his hands sliding down your back to grip your hips possessively. "You have me, fox. Never leaving you again."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you deeply. His hands made quick work of your clothes, peeling them off of you until you lay bare beneath him.

"Need you bare," he growled, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of your naked form. "Too many clothes."

You giggled and moaned as he lavished your skin with kisses, his hot mouth trailing down your body until he reached the apex of your thighs. You gasped as his fingers teased your folds, slipping inside your wet heat.

"My mate tastes so good," he murmured against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you. "Could spend hours here."

You writhed beneath him, tugging at his hair as he devoured you, his fingers pumping in and out of you. The pleasure built inside you, threatening to consume you entirely.

"Need you to fuck me, Lu," you gasped out, pulling him up to face you. "Need it so bad."

Lucien groaned, his hard cock brushing against your thigh. "Need my cock, baby?"

You nodded frantically, spreading your legs wider for him. "Yes, please."

With a low growl, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your slick folds. "Oh fuck, I'm going to fuck you forever, little fox. Never going to leave this tight pussy."

You moaned as he pushed inside you, your back arching off the bed as he stretched you deliciously around his thick, hard cock. Lucien groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as your tight heat enveloped him.

"Oh gods, little fox," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "Always so fucking tight for me."

He took his time, slowly sinking into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. Your walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size. He stayed still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

Lucien leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a sensuous dance. His hands roamed your body, caressing your curves and leaving trails of fire in their wake.

When he finally began to move, it was slow and steady, drawing out the pleasure for both of you. He pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in, setting a deep, steady rhythm that had you moaning and writhing beneath him.

"Lucien," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "Oh gods, yes."

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, his hips picking up speed. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the sound mingling with your moans and the slick, wet noises of your joining.

One hand reached down to rub tight circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, your orgasm building like a tidal wave.

"I'm going to come," you whimpered, your walls beginning to flutter around him. "Oh fuck, Lucien!"

He nodded, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."

With a cry, you came undone, your body convulsing with pleasure. Lucien followed shortly after, groaning deeply as he spilled himself deep inside you, his hips jerking with each wave of his release.

He collapsed on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder as he stayed buried inside you. "Sleep now, my little fox. You'll need your energy for later."

You smiled tiredly, snuggling into his strong arms as sleep pulled you under, content in the knowledge that you were finally where you belonged - in the arms of your mate.

The weeks passed in a blur of passion and pleasure, Lucien insatiable in his desire for you. He fucked you in every corner of the cabin - on the kitchen counter, bent over the dining table, in the bathtub, up against the wall. He couldn't keep his hands off you, always touching, tasting, claiming you as his own.

You reveled in his touch, your body eager and ready for him at all times. The heat of the Frenzy burned hot between you, fueling your lust and making every touch electric.

After a week, Lucien finally deemed it safe to show your faces again, but he still kept you locked away in your shared chambers, fucking you constantly. You barely left the bed, except to eat or bathe - which of course led to even more fucking.

By the time two weeks had passed, you were exhausted but utterly sated, your body humming with pleasure. Lucien seemed to have finally gotten the Frenzy out of his system, his desperate need for you fading to a simmering, constant desire.

As you lay tangled in the sheets, your limbs heavy and your mind hazy with pleasure, Lucien pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "My little fox," he murmured. "I could spend forever buried inside you."

You smiled tiredly, snuggling into his chest. "Then let's do it," you whispered. "Forever with you sounds perfect."