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#feysand fic
rhysandswingspan · 14 hours ago
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Fanfic Reactions: Breakfast in Bed
If you haven’t read the fic yet, check it out here: 
https://archiveofourown.org/works/31332041 
The normal text is the fic. The parenthesis are my thoughts. 
-
Feyre groaned, her head hurt and she was exhausted. But she scrubbed her bleary eyes and picked up the pen again.
(You know when you scrub at your eyes and they make that kind of squeaky sound?)
It was far into the night when she heard a thump of the balcony outside and the footsteps that could only belong to one person.
(”Far into the night” I was tired, okay?)
Rhysand walked in, but stopped when he saw her at the desk, scenting her exhaustion.
He walked over to her and lifted her carefully, and she nuzzled into his arms, content and yawning.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Feyre mumbled, head still tucked into his chest.
She yawned again and Rhys smiled. “You look tired.” he brushed back her hair and pressed a kiss to her brow. 
“I've just been busy trying to get all of the stuff done in the past three days. I wanted to surprise you.” she replied.
(Awwww)
“When was the last time you slept?” he asked with a soft laugh.
“The night before you left.” she replied without realizing what she had said.
(Dramatic music)
Rhys choked. “That was- that was three days ago! Feyre, that’s not healthy.” he walked over to the bed, sitting on top of it and laying back with Feyre still on his chest.
“I just wanted to get all your work done too because you couldn’t do it while you were meeting with the Illriyans.”
(Damn auto-correct. I DO mean Illriyans, not Illinoisans)
He stroked her hair and Feyre relaxed into him. Her breathing slowed until her eyelids drooped completely and he was sure she was asleep.
When he woke up the next morning, she was still sleeping, and he carefully lifted her off of him and went down to get them breakfast.
When he came back up the stairs with a tray of fresh fruit, breads, and eggs Feyre softly moaned at the smell, now awake.
(Of course she fucking moaned)
She saw Rhysand stiffen slightly at the sound and she slapped him. “How are you always so fucking horny and dirty minded?”
(Now re-reading that, I can’t tell if it’s out of character or not)
Rhys grabbed the tray and held it above his head, and even though he was also sitting on the bed, it was out of her reach.
“You have to ask nicely if you want it.”
(My favorite trope)
Feyre pouted, huffing. He smirked at her, laughing slightly.
Her lips twitched for a millisecond and then she sat up more, before getting onto her hands and knees and crawling over to where he was sitting on top of the comforter. 
She made her eyes wide and innocent, but her voice was different. “Please Rhysand,” she added a whimper for good measure and continued, making her voice desperate. “Please” She punctuated this by cupping the front of his pants and he hissed, nearly dropping the tray.
(Holy fuck, I wrote this.)
She jumped up and snatched it from him while he was distracted.
Upon seeing her with the tray Rhys gave up. “That was unfair and you know it.” he complained. 
“It’s not my fault that you’re horny all the time and can’t keep it in your pants.” Feyre laughed, taking a bite of a roll.
(Is she wrong though?)
He watched her eat, rolling his eyes occasionally.
Feyre turned to place the tray on a side table and smiled contentedly, but when she turned back, Rhysand was right in front of her.
He placed his hand on her stomach, pushing her down.
(Would that knock the wind out of you if you did it wrong?)
“This is payback for being such a tease.” he said, eyes darkening. 
(Nice. Now have sex.)
-
If anyone wants me to give my thoughts on your fic, or a fic, just send me the link PLEASE. I’d be more than happy to. 
Send me a fic you wrote and I’ll leave a comment, kudos and annotate it like this on my tumblr. It’s a win-win. You get more people being able to see your fic, and I get something to do. 
@story-scribbler
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timesconvert · a day ago
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so I may or may not have an idea for a feysand fic, inspired by an Oscar Wilde quote
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a-courtofdreams · 3 days ago
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Marry Me | Feysand Modern AU | Masterlist
Based on the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett
Modern friends to lovers reimagining of Feyre & Rhys from A Court of Thorns & Roses by Sarah J. Maas.
Rhys and Feyre have been best friends since they were eleven. They’ve also been hopelessly in love with one another, but too afraid to reveal their feelings and risk losing their incredible bond. When Feyre becomes engaged to another man and the time comes for them to say “I Do”, Feyre and Rhys both begin to realize what they really wanted all along. 
Part 1 | Part 2
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a-courtofdreams · 3 days ago
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Marry Me | Part 2
Feysand Modern AU | Friends to Lovers
Based on the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett
Feyre
Feyre looked at herself in the full-length mirror and didn’t recognize the woman staring back. She supposed her wedding dress was beautiful: the entire torso of the dress was fitted and lacy, held on to her shoulders by scraps of sheer fabric that transitioned into delicate, lace sleeves. The tight bodice gave way to a ball gown skirt; a wide poof of ivory layers that Feyre could disappear beneath if she tried. The dress was fit for a princess, but to Feyre it felt heavy and suffocating.
Rhys would laugh when he saw her, and it wouldn’t even hurt her feelings because Feyre did feel laughable. The skirt alone practically swallowed Feyre whole and would likely take up the entire aisle. She’d suddenly never related more to the character of Toula Portokalos; Feyre truly felt like a snow beast.
Feyre just didn’t feel like herself in this dress. She’d chosen the gown because Ianthe, the fancy wedding planner Tamlin suggested they use, had said Tamlin would love it. She should have realized it was a mistake right then and there, a mistake because she let someone talk her into buying a dress she didn’t love.
Feyre turned away from her reflection and moved to the window to get a peek at the ceremony site. Everything was essentially and eerily perfect: the weather was beautiful, the flowers were fresh, the guests were staring to mill around, and the aisle was elegantly styled for Feyre’s arrival. It was a picture-perfect scene, but it all fell away when Feyre’s gaze landed on a familiar form. Rhys.
Her heart gave a flutter as soon as she spotted him on the outskirts of the growing crowd. He was dressed in a sharp, all-black suit tailored perfectly to his body and Feyre thought he’d never looked more handsome. Rhys may be her best friend, but Feyre would have to be blind not to realize how devastatingly attractive Rhys was. He certainly had a list of ex-girlfriends to attest to his attractiveness. Feyre had always tried to get along with his various girlfriends, but on more than one occasion, she found herself thinking what it would be like if she were the one on Rhys’s arm…
As Rhys turned completely towards the window, Feyre got a better look at him and sucked in a shocked breath. He looked…disheveled. Rhys cared about his looks and was normally so put-together, but there was a tight set to his jaw, his black hair was mussed, his tie was slightly crooked, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. He looked absolutely miserable. As if to punctuate her thought, Rhys pulled a small silver flask from his jacket and took a long drink from it. It didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t downing apple juice.
The sight of her best friend so visibly not okay threw Feyre completely off balance. Rhys was her rock, her lifeline, her person. In their fifteen years of friendship, she’d rarely ever seen him anything other than fun-loving and sarcastic, but today he looked so…defeated. Today, he was a man that apparently needed alcohol to get through his best friend’s wedding and, oh god, had she done this to him? Was she somehow hurting the person who meant the most to her?
It was then that Rhys glanced up at her window, as if he could somehow feel her eyes on him. He discreetly tucked the small flask back into his inner jacket pocket and flashed Feyre a weak smile as if he wasn’t breaking her heart. Feyre stood frozen in place at the window, suddenly unable to return his smile or wave or do anything at all. Rhys’s lips parted as he registered her face and he took a small step forward as if he were going to march straight up to her dressing suite, but he was suddenly approached by another wedding guest. Rhys threw Feyre an apologetic look and a quick wink before turning to greet the newcomer.
His wink was meant to be reassuring but did nothing to stop the surge of doubt from completely overtaking Feyre. She finally stumbled away from the window and gripped the arm of a nearby chair to steady herself. Feyre felt as if she were spiraling, suddenly consumed by an onslaught of memories from the past, all of them involving Rhys.
Feyre and Rhys had been inseparable since they were eleven. Feyre had been the new girl in town and, although Rhys was a few years older, he’d introduced himself in the hallway and claimed her as his friend almost immediately. They had a million memories together and there were suddenly a million moments screaming at her, willing her to acknowledge a deep-rooted feeling she’d mistakenly chosen to ignore.
Feyre wasn’t entirely sure when she’d developed non-platonic feelings for her best friend. No, that was a lie; Feyre knew the exact moment she first began to wonder what it would be like to be loved by Rhys. It had been the night of her senior prom.
Rhys was a few years older and had already graduated, so he wasn’t at prom that year. Feyre had been so excited when the boy she had a huge crush on asked her to go prom with him, but Rhys had been hesitant about the whole thing. He’d warned Feyre that he didn’t think the boy was very nice, but eighteen-year-old Feyre thought she was in love and wouldn’t listen to reason. It turned out, however, that Rhys was right. Her date picked her up, took her to the dance, and promptly left with another girl. Feyre was crushed and she’d been in the courtyard crying, much to her embarrassment, when Rhys found her.
Feyre had been shocked to see Rhys emerge from the night wearing a full tux. He’d looked like an avenging angel or a knight in shining black armor, and Feyre was stunned speechless when he walked over and pulled her to her feet. Distant music from the prom had filtered into the courtyard and he’d taken her in his arms, swaying with her to the music. 
When Feyre asked what he was doing, Rhys simply replied, “Sharing a dance with my best friend. Every girl deserves a slow dance at their prom, especially you, Feyre.” 
Rhys had spotted her date with the other girl in town and immediately knew what had happened. He’d donned a suit and drove all the way to the school to give Feyre the dance she’d missed out on with her jerk of a date. She later heard rumors that Rhys punched her date in the face which made Feyre smile to this day.
Yes, that must have been the moment Feyre realized she loved Rhys as more than a friend, but their friendship was the one thing Feyre couldn’t live without. Feyre would’ve hated herself forever if she’d ruined their incredible bond by admitting she might be in love with him, so she let years and years go by without ever voicing her feelings. Rhys had dated other people, and so had she. Then Feyre met Tamlin and found a safe, secure kind of happiness. She’d still been wrapped up in the honeymoon phase bliss when Tamlin proposed, but her first thought after she said yes was of Rhys. She suddenly couldn’t imagine breaking the news to Rhys and had seen the panic in his eyes when she finally did tell him. Oh god, she’d hurt him, was currently hurting him. This–this wasn’t what she wanted…
“Feyre, are you ready?” It was Elain’s voice that snapped her out of the past.
“What?” Feyre asked dazedly, noting Elain’s slightly worried expression. Feyre’s heart lurched when she realized she and her sisters were now standing just inside the back doors of the house, moments away from walking down the aisle. Feyre had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even realized they’d left the dressing suite.
“Are you ready?” Nesta echoed from her other side, thrusting the lush bouquet of flowers into Feyre’s hands.  
Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer before familiar music started to play, signaling the bridesmaids’ entrance. One at a time her sisters walked through the double doors toward the aisle and Feyre was left alone with her thoughts and doubts. Oh god. What was she doing? How had all of this happened so quickly? And why had she never told Rhys how she felt?
The ‘Here Comes the Bride’ music blared and Feyre realized she’d missed her cue because Ianthe was suddenly behind her, urging her out the door and towards the start of the aisle. Feyre reluctantly moved, but her mind was still whirling with thoughts of Rhys as Tamlin and the guests came into view.
No, no, no. This wasn’t right. There were so many smiling faces and teary eyes meant to be a testament to Tamlin and Feyre’s love, but it all felt so wrong. She didn’t know any of these people and, worse of all, she couldn’t see Rhys. Where was he? If she could just get a glimpse of his face…
Somehow Feyre made it to the end of the aisle where Tamlin waited. She supposed he looked handsome; he wore a polished, deep green suit, his long blonde hair was tied-back, and he smiled at her warmly, but Feyre’s gut twisted just looking at him. This was somehow very wrong.
As if on autopilot, Feyre ascended the steps to where Tamlin stood with his hand outstretched towards her. Feyre took Tamlin’s hand and stood before the officiant, but her gaze wandered to the mob of guests below them, desperate to find a familiar pair of violet eyes. When she finally spotted Rhys, it was to see his form retreating from the ceremony. He–he was leaving. Feyre’s panic flared and she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Her instincts were screaming at her to go after him, to run.
Feyre looked back to Tamlin who stared at her quizzically and her heart plummeted when it should have soared. She should feel over-the-moon in love with the man before her, but all she could think about were Rhys’s haunted pair of violet eyes. Does he truly make you happy? Rhys had asked her this the day she told him she was engaged. Feyre said yes because she couldn’t fathom the idea that she’d agreed to marry a man who didn’t make her truly happy, but now, Feyre knew the true answer.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Feyre choked out. Tamlin reared back in shock, gasps sounded all around her, and she thought the officiant was quietly pleading with her to continue the ceremony, but none of it mattered anymore.
Feyre stumbled back a few steps and someone grabbed her arm to steady her. Feyre looked back to see it was Nesta. She braced for her sister’s cruel words or demands to step back to the alter, but they didn’t come. Instead, her eldest sister simply took Feyre’s bouquet of flowers, squeezed her hand, and whispered, “Go.” The cool approval in Nesta’s eyes stunned Feyre, but her sister’s support gave her the strength to do the one thing that scared her the most.
Feyre lifted her skirts and ran. She ran away from the fiancé who didn’t make her truly happy. She ran away from the stunned guests she didn’t know the names of. She ran away from the life she’d been told she needed, and she ran toward the future she’d always wanted.
She had to find Rhys.
******
Tag List: @live-the-fangirl-life | @story-scribbler | @feysand-loml | @flyingtortillasworldsblog | @niimerya | @amaranthas-whore
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timesconvert · 4 days ago
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I Kissed You When I Shouldn't Have
It had been a slow morning, culminating in a lunch with the inner circle in the humid dining room that made it feel as if he were dying a slow, painful death.
Azriel loved his family. He did.
That fact did not make it any easier to stomach the sight of Feyre and Rhys wrapped around each other, attempting to swallow the other whole. He was just thankful he wasn’t privy to the filth they were undoubtedly whispering to each other through the bond.
Cassian and Nesta weren’t as obvious, but the way they showed their love was loud, even outside of the bedroom. Cassian was attempting to discover the spots in which Nesta was ticklish and letting out a delighted yelp when he achieved his mission, followed by her shrieks and threats.
As annoying as it was, it made his heart ache. He yearned to be able to show such obvious affection for the person he loved. It was worse, Azriel thought, to be in love with someone and have them love you back but be unable to show it, than it was for that love to be unrequited.
After all, he would know.
He snuck a glance at her, reading quietly in an armchair next to him. Her golden-brown hair twisted into a coil that rested on the back of her neck, various strands escaping and catching the sunlight streaming through the windows; her brown eyes danced across the page and her mouth turning up gently at the corners as she read.
Looking at Elain made his heart ache in a different way. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to announce to the world that he loved her and she loved him.
But that wasn’t possible, and Azriel wasn’t sure it ever would be.
Mor looked as exasperated as he felt, twirling strands of her hair through her fingers as she pulled tongues at Rhys, who clocked her from over Feyre’s shoulder and stuck his finger up in return.
“Get a room!” Mor hollered.
Rhys did something that made Feyre make a most unladylike noise, leading her to blush scarlet and push him away from her.
Cassian sniggered. “Steady on, Rhys. I’m sure you don’t want us knowing the kinds of noises Feyre can make.”
Rhys issued forth a growl that sounded suspiciously like a suggestion that Cassian should stop talking if he wished for his tongue to remain in his mouth.
Azriel stood and stretched. “As entertaining as this live sex-show has been, I have a job to do.”
Without thinking, he bent down and kissed Elain gently on the mouth, tilting her chin up with a finger. It was only as he pulled away that he realised what he’d done.
He quickly cycled through the options available to him and arrived at the conclusion that each one ended with him getting his ass kicked.
There was only one thing for it.
He pivoted, and leant towards Mor, whose expression was mixture of curiosity and glee. She accepted his brief kiss, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Cassian made a stunned noise of disbelief, but Azriel knew every set of eyes in the room were on him.
He knew better than to attempt Nesta, for she’d surely gut him like a fish if he even so much as tried to kiss her.
And so Azriel strode towards Feyre, bending down to kiss her gallantly on the cheek. “My lady, I will take my leave now.”
Feyre nodded in stunned silence.
He all but sprinted from the room, leaving behind their whispers of speculation; all he could think of was how close he’d come to ruining everything. If Rhys ever found out, no matter how useful Azriel’s talents were, the only thing between him and oblivion would be Feyre.
That was if she wasn’t leading the charge for his head, though.
A soft giggle brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Elain standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Elain, as always, spoke softly, but with a seriousness that suggested she knew more than anyone else ever would.
“If they find out, Rhys will have my head.”
Her hand rose to cup his cheek; unbidden, he angled his head into her touch.
“My spymaster.” Elain’s voice was musical, calling him home. “So serious.”
Words wouldn’t come; he simply smiled at her.
“They will find out, Azriel.”
He frowned.
No-one had yet figured out the intricate details of Elain’s abilities as a seer, but her warnings of the future had yet to fail to be true.
He chose not to share these concerns.
“I know. But for now-” he bent to kiss her cheek, nuzzling her neck, “you’re mine.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.”
***
I don't know why Azriel's inner monlogue is so rife with angst; this should have been a fluffy piece, and yet it's got angst. I hope you enjoy this little drabble, inspired by @sunlit-elain's post about Az accidentally kissing Elain in front of everyone and making up for it by kissing the rest of the inner circle.
kisses,
Jenn
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a-courtofdreams · 7 days ago
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Marry Me | Part 1
Feysand Modern AU | Friends to Lovers
Based on the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett
Rhys
“You’re engaged?” Rhys was going to be sick. Had he heard Feyre right? His eyes flew to her left hand where, sure enough, a giant diamond sat on her ring finger. They’d been at lunch for over an hour…how had he not noticed that?
Say something. The voice in his head wouldn’t shut up. She said yes and you have to be happy for her.
How could he be happy when the girl he’d been in love with for years just told him she’s marrying another man? He knew things between Feyre and Tamlin were somewhat serious, but he hadn’t expected this. Feyre was suddenly getting married and Rhys couldn’t even hold down a relationship for more than two months.
Because you’re in love with Feyre. Damn. He really needed to have a chat with his own mind. It always called his bullshit.
“Well, congratulations, Feyre.” The words tasted like acid on his tongue, but he still managed to rise from the booth to wrap Feyre in a hug.
“Thank you.” she mumbled against his chest.
Rhys held Feyre close, closer than he probably should, but who the hell cared? It looked like he was going lose her in a few months anyway. He was certain things would change when Feyre and Tamlin were married. Tamlin always loathed the amount of time Feyre spent with Rhys, and he was certain Tamlin would find ways of keeping Feyre to himself.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked, pulling back to look into her blue-grey blue eyes. Rhys expected that most newly engaged women practically glowed with joy. Why did Feyre look apprehensive? “Yes.” Was all she said.
“Then I’m happy for you, Feyre.” Rhys said as he settled back into the booth across from Feyre. Rhys tried to bite back an insult towards Tamlin, but Feyre knew him better than that. The arch of her brow sent the rest of his thought tumbling from his lips. “I still think Mightier-Than-Thou Tamlin is a bit of a prick, but...”
“Annd there it is.” she chuckled, shaking her head at him.
“Hey.” Rhys reached across the table to take hold of Feyre’s hand. “He makes you happy right?”
A strange look passed across Feyre’s face, but it was gone in an instant. Maybe he’d just imagined it. “He does.” she said quietly.
“As long as he makes you truly happy, then I support you, Feyre. I’ll always have your back. You know that.” He squeezed her hand for emphasis. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” It wasn’t a total lie. Feyre’s happiness mattered to him more than anything, even if her happiness didn’t depend on him.
“When’s the wedding?” he asked. Rhys kept hold of Feyre’s hand across the table, not ready to let her go quite yet.
“We’re thinking of pulling something together pretty quick. Maybe in a month or so.”
“A month. Right.”
“You’ll be there won’t you?” she asked. Everything within Rhys screamed no, but he could never hurt Feyre that way. Those big blue eyes of hers said her world would shatter if she thought he didn’t support her.
“Yeah, Feyre. I’ll be there.” Her smile was worth his pain. At least that’s what Rhys told himself as he walked Feyre to her car and watched her drive away. It felt as if the earth was tilting, shifting, cracking beneath his feet. Rhys thought he had plenty of time to tell Feyre how he felt…but it looked like time had run out. He’d kept his feelings for Feyre to himself when he should have shouted it from the rooftops.
Looking back, there were a million things he’d change, but one regret rose above all the rest. Rhys had broken a promise to Feyre; a promise that she likely didn’t remember, but that he thought about every single day.
                                                         …...
(Five years ago)
Every man in this club deserves to die. Rhys couldn’t stop the violent thought from scrambling to the forefront of his brain.
It was Feyre’s twenty-first birthday and she’d begged Rhys to take her out to a dance club to celebrate. Rhys had never been very good at refusing Feyre, so he found the most popular club in the city to take her to. Rhys was having the time of his life dancing, laughing, and drinking with Feyre and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her the entire night. Unfortunately, neither had every other man in the club. Every few minutes he’d catch the eye of another man over the top of her head, staring at her ass in those skin-tight jeans or at her chest in the low-cut white crop top. These men looked at her like she was a prize to be won or a quest to be conquered which made Rhys’s blood boil. Naturally, Rhys spent most of the night discreetly defending her honor.
“One more shot!” Feyre yelled, holding up her shot of tequila like it was a trophy before tilting her head back to down it. The disgusted face she made afterwards was so priceless that Rhys just about fell off his barstool from laughing so hard. “Oh god, what the hell was that?” she asked.
“You drank the whole bar out of your favorite kind of tequila. That’s all they had left!” he wheezed, clutching his stomach.
“Damn, I need to dance that one off.” Feyre hiccuped as she made her way back to the dance floor. Rhys trailed behind her and stayed close as she started to sway to the beat again. Rhys had just started to move with her when a stranger came up behind Feyre, placing his hands dangerously low on her hips and his head in the crook of her neck.
“Hey gorgeous, you lookin’ for a dance partner?” he slurred in her ear.
What. The. Fuck? Feyre froze and her eyes immediately shot to Rhys as the frat boy pressed in closer to her back. Rhys practically saw red. “No, she isn’t.” he growled, pushing the handsy newcomer off of Feyre who drifted back to his side.
Frat Boy narrowed his eyes. “Whatever dude. You haven’t made a move all night long. A woman like her doesn’t wear an outfit like that unless she’s looking to get laid. You don’t seem willing, but I sure am.”  
“What did you just say?” Rhys asked coldly, stepping toe to toe with Frat Boy. He was seconds away from decking the fucker in the face when he felt a light touch on his chest. He looked down to see Feyre pushing him back slightly as she laced her fingers with his.
“Actually, you’re mistaken, this is my boyfriend.” Feyre said harshly. Rhys’s gaze snapped to Feyre’s and she silently pleaded with him to go along the ruse. Once his initial shock wore off, Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre’s waist and pulled her into his side before looking back at Frat Boy whose entire face was bright red from anger. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Who the hell cared anymore? All Rhys could focus on was how right Feyre felt in his arms.
Frat Boy looked between them a few more times before turning away, and Feyre giggled as she twisted to face Rhys. “Thanks for going along with that.” she whisper-shouted. Feyre had no concept of pitch when she was drunk.
“I almost knocked that fucker out.” Rhys growled.
“I know! That’s why I had to intervene! I realllly didn’t want you to get arrested on my birthday.” she giggled. As she looked up at Rhys with those big blue eyes, a strange feeling crept into his chest; a feeling he’d felt on and off for years but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
Feyre stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear and unintentionally pressed her breasts against his chest. Rhys almost moaned out loud. “I think we should keep pretending like you’re my boyfriend. You know, just for show so no one tries that again.” she explained. Rhys was sure that was the best fucking idea she’d ever had.
“You got it, Feyre.” he grinned. Within the circle of his arms, Feyre began to move to the music again, slowly and expertly. Rhys felt like he was in a dream; she was all he could see. Her golden-brown hair whirled around him as she danced, and every once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of her bright, infectious smile. He was so fucking done for.
When Feyre stopped dancing a few songs later and began to sway on her feet, Rhys knew she was ready to go home. He helped her over to a booth and left for just a few minutes to close out their tab. When Rhys got back, Feyre was passed out in the booth. He’d seen this coming; Feyre had always been a sleepy drunk. Without a second thought, he lifted her in his arms, and made his way through the crowd towards the door.
As the cool night air met them, Feyre snuggled closer and buried her face into Rhys’s neck. Feyre had fallen asleep against him countless times, but this was somehow different. The bare skin of her back felt like a brand against his arm and sent shockwaves of heat throughout his entire body. What in the actual fuck was his problem? Feyre was his best friend and yet it felt as if his entire existence suddenly revolved around keeping her close to him for as long as possible.
“You know, you were the best fake boyfriend.” Feyre mumbled against his neck. “I bet you’d be the best fake husband too.” Rhys almost tripped over his own feet.
“You think so?” he asked quietly, desperate to know what else she was thinking.
“I know so. Maybe we should get married.” she sighed.
“Is that what you want Feyre? For me to marry you?” Rhys held his breath as he waited for her response that would never come. Feyre was asleep again. He knew she wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, but he would. Rhys would likely remember this conversation for the rest of his life.  
As Rhys held his best friend of ten years in his arms, he knew one thing for certain. He was in love with Feyre Archeron.
“I’ll marry you one day, Feyre darling.” he whispered softly.
******
This idea came to me in the middle of the night and demanded to be written! Planning on three parts for this fic. Hope you enjoy!
Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.
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mmvalentine · 7 days ago
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All I want. Is for them to have a hundred happy endings.
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mmvalentine · 7 days ago
single dad with twins! rhys and feyre part 2?????? PRETTY PLS IT WAS SO GOOD?????????????
Nonnie, I don't know what's come over me but I am... so deep in my feels right now 🥺🥺🥺 I started out not really caring about this AU when I first read the prompt and now I am in TEARS and anyway just read it so you can be in tears too 😭
Spaghetti Part 2
Read Part 1
Rhys and Feyre date for a year before they get married. In this year, she moves into her new house and the boys learn the route and on more than one occasion run away from home to go to Feyre's house and she has to call Rhys who is FRANTIC and tell him she's got his rascals.
Rhys is nervous at first about dating but being around Feyre is so easy. And although the twins make him want to tear his hair out and he's scared he'll never have a relationship because they are so much, Feyre doesn't lose her cool at them. Ever. He's astounded by her.
Feyre takes Cass and Az on dates sometimes without Rhys. She always says that if they're going to get to know each other they have to ALL get to know each other, she chivvies Rhys off while she hangs out with his little sons. Rhys makes sure that they have flowers for her when she picks them up, and then sits in the quiet and drinks his brandy and it is finally so peaceful he could cry.
Sometimes, when Feyre has a twin tucked under each arm and they fall asleep snuggled into her, Rhys's heart breaks for them that they did not get enough time with their mother and they deserved more out of life than that.
Even though he's the parent now, Rhys sometimes feels that his sex life is awfully close to what it was like when he was sneaking around as a teenager. They have to wait until the boys are asleep, they have to be very quiet, they have to cover up fast if there's even a hint of the doorknob turning. Sometimes all Rhys wants is to fuck her against the wall and it's driving him nuts.
One day, he's so crazy with it that after he drops the twins at school he doesn't go to work, he just drives straight to Feyre's place, tells her to call in sick and then takes her right there against the door. Feyre's trying to dial and speak to her manager, but Rhys won't stop with the tongue and the fingers and she's smacking his head and covering her moans with a cough as she tells work she can't possibly make it in today.
In the end doesn't actually get to propose, because the boys do it for him. He sits them down one day, and asks how they would feel if Feyre came to live them them forever. If he were to ask her to marry him. They are so excited they get the zooms and tear around the house until one of them smacks into a wall, develops a bruise on his forehead and starts crying the house down. All Rhys can do is laugh.
He plans a whole weekend for the proposal, but the boys beat him to it. They can't keep a secret to save their lives, no matter how many times Rhys tells them it's supposed to be a surprise. It's on a day when they are both very tired and have started snapping at each other in the kitchen and Cass gets upset. He thinks that if Rhys annoys Feyre too much she'll leave them, so he runs up to her and asks her to marry them.
At first, Feyre thinks this little kid is just too cute and does not take it seriously. She gets on his level and apologises for fighting with their dad and assures him she's not going anywhere. But Cass is like a dog with a bone, and she isn't sure what's gotten into him.
Then Az runs off and gets the ring box from where he knows Rhys has been keeping it, since he's a little snoop and found it last week. He presents it to her, and Feyre just stares at him. "Where did you get this, Az?" she breathes.
Rhys can't believe what's happening. This was not part of the plan. But then Feyre looks up at him for answers, and she's crouching there on the floor with the open ring box in her hands and his kids staring up at her like their own personal god and her gorgeous blue-grey eyes are wide with questions and... well he guesses this his happening now.
Rhys sighs, and gets down on the floor. Kneels opposite her, and grabs a hold of a rascal in each arm. "Feyre?" he says, and suddenly his heart is beating so fast he think he might have a heart attack right here on the kitchen floor. "Will you marry us?"
Feyre's eyes fill with tears, she looks straight at Rhys and whispers "yes." And then chaos erupts, as Rhys forgets the children and leans in to kiss her, and the boys explode around the kitchen yelling and whooping and climbing over both of them. Feyre is laughing, and Rhys realises he's crying which he hasn't done since his sister died, and the twins are peppering Feyre's cheeks with tiny, slobbery kisses.
The pair get married in Rhys's back yard with a small circle of friends. Rhys says his vows to Feyre, then Feyre says her vows to Rhys. Then she kneels down and gives vows to Rhys's two six-year-old best-men, that she will love them for the rest of her life and never leave them until death do them part. Rhys didn't know she was going to do that, and now he is crying all over again.
Of course for dinner they all have spaghetti, and then friends take the twins for the night so Feyre and Rhys can have an actual wedding night. Rhys has strewn rose petals on the bed but in the end, after everyone has gone they are left slow dancing in the living room and make love on the couch.
Five years later, they have three boys. Cass, Az, and little three-year-old Nyx. The twins can be a little rough sometimes, but Feyre always tells them that she trusts them implicitly and then they take their big brother responsibilities very seriously. Funnily enough, it's Rhys that's the worrier in the family. Feyre tells him they'll be fine, and Rhys says, "You say that. But do you know what I just overheard? That they're going to teach Nyx to fly today."
"Don't worry," Feyre tells him. "Don't you know our boys all have wings?"
THE END
****
I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS GOING TO GET INVESTED IN THIS AU OKAY
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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Text
Author: how do i explain this plot line with a good scene.. i should remember to show, not tell
SJM: *Rhysand's 15 pages dissertation on how he knew about the mating bond and combing through everything he did since book 1 that now has to have a benevolent hidden motive so he can explain away everything that made his character problematic, now downright turning him into Saint Rhys, patron of star-flecked nights*
SJM: what do you mean.. show?
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mmvalentine · 8 days ago
feysand prompt (+ smut request!)
(either modern au or canon)
feysand experiment with blindfolds/handcuffs/teasing BUT they have a long conversation about it first and establish that both of them are actually okay with it
when they do it (idk if this would make sense) feyre starts on top but then afterwards rhys takes control so they both get to try being dom/sub
Oof okay there's a lot in there and this has become very very long without me even getting through everything I have to say!! I know this is not the approach you had in mind but it's what came out in the end... also I have stolen a line from Suicide Squad.
Lessons
It is the first anniversary of their mating and after a year, Feyre sometimes thinks the frenzy of the new bond is finally abating.
Rhys will smile and laugh as Cassian jostles her shoulder at dinner, will twinkle his eyes at Mor when she smooths a stray hair back from Feyre’s face.
Other times, it’s in full force. Rhys waits until they are back in the privacy of their own room, and then he glazes over with lust and confesses his every envy into Feyre’s skin as he pounds her into the mattress (the floor, the wall, the bathtub).
Either way, a year is worth celebrating, and Feyre walks by Rhys’s favourite lingerie shop on her way home. The shop clerks know what day it is, and are already a-titter. Feyre blushes and says she wants something special, even though she knows Rhys has gone through this store several times over. She picks out something in the shade of red that he likes, but when she collects the bag it is heavier than she expects. The clerk winks at her. Something special, they whisper. When Feyre gets home, she tips the bag out on the bed and a pair of leather and brass handcuffs fall out.
Rhys walks through the bedroom door before she can register her surprise, and he stops at the sight of them. One eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitch upward, and Feyre says, "They were a gift from the shop."
Rhys comes up behind Feyre and slides his arms around her waist, planting a kiss on the back of her shoulder as he surveys the contents of her bag. Over the course of the year, Rhys has delighted in discovering the ways he can turn Feyre on. One of the very lovely things about her is that she gets so pliant in his hands. Today, he has a different idea for her.
"How would you like to be in charge today, Feyre darling?" Rhys purrs against her neck.
"In... charge?" Feyre asks.
"Yes," Rhys says. He kisses his way up to the nape of her neck. "I think you could do it."
Feyre bites her lip, and leans into the warmth of his body. "Will you show me how?"
"Of course," Rhys agrees. "You can be in control for, say, twenty minutes. And then we'll swap. Okay?"
From the air he pulls a hourglass filled with what looks like black smoke, and a floating silver ball. When the time is up, the ball will drop and ring against the glass.
"Okay," Feyre nods, with only a little nervousness. Rhys sets the timer on the nightstand.
"Alright," he said. "But first." He pulls back and looks at her, and his magic vanishes her clothes. He spends long seconds drinking in her naked body, before carefully dressing her in the red lace set. When he is done, he sits down on the end of the bed. "So how do you want me?" he asks her. And the smoke the in the hourglass begins to move.
Feyre tilts her head, and a blush steals over her pale cheeks. Although she knows Rhys knows what she likes, she's not used to vocalising it. "Shirt off," she whispers, and is gratified by Rhys's jacket hitting the floor, and his shirt being pulled slowly over his head. Rhys's eyes never move from hers. He holds his wrists out to her, and very shyly, she fastens the handcuffs around his wrists.
"And now what?" Rhys asks her softly.
Feyre steps between his knees and kisses his mouth. She raises his cuffed wrists and puts his hands behind his neck, and then sits on his lap to straddle him. It makes him hard in an instant.
"Like this?" she asks Rhys, putting her hands on his chest.
"Like how ever you want my love," Rhys says. But he lifts his hips a little, because he knows what Feyre likes.
Indeed Feyre's fingers close a little tighter on Rhys's shoulders, and if it's all about what she wants, it turns out what she actually wants is to be able to grind in his lap like this. Usually, his hands would pull her hips against him but they're stuck behind his head, so Feyre has to make her own rhythm. She lets her head fall back and her eyes close, but then Rhys says, "eyes on me."
She snaps her eyes open, and Rhys is grinning.
"That's it," he tells her. "Use me the way you want to. Make sure you watch while you do it." So she continues moving on him but this time looks into his eyes, and finds here a sparking lust that tightens across his face with every pass of her hips. A hot pride curls in her belly- that she can make him feel like this, and Rhys is right. It is worth keeping her eyes open for.
Feyre places her hands around Rhys's throat like he sometimes does to her, and the groan rumbles through him. Excitement flares in her chest, and she wonders what else she might do to him.
"Use your words," Rhys tells her next. "Tell me what you want."
"I want..." Feyre licks her lips. "I want you down on the bed."
"Okay," Rhys says. "So push me down like you mean it."
Feyre places a hand on the solid planes of his chest, and after only a moment's hesitation, she shoves hard. Rhys falls back, his hands still behind his head, and chuckles softly. "That's it," he encourages.
Feyre removes his trousers and Rhys is naked on the bed. She crawls up his legs, and while he watches her, she licks her tongue up the length of his cock.
Rhys's hips twitch, but he can't move his hands to her. He hums in his throat. Feyre smiles, and licks him again. Slides her hand around him while her lips shape over his head. Rhys's breathing starts to shallow, and it does beautiful things to the muscles in his torso. This time, she takes the whole of him into her mouth and Rhys groans long and low on the bed.
"That's it Feyre," he says again. "Like you know that I'm yours."
The words go to Feyre's head like heavy wine, and then she's running her nails down the flat of his stomach while her mouth works his cock. The sounds she wrests from him delight her, and every so often she glances up to see the way his triceps twitch. She knows he wants to put his hands in her hair, knows he wants to push her head down the way he wants it. But he can't, because his hands are bound behind his neck.
When Rhys starts to get loud, Feyre lifts her mouth from him and slides up his chest. He groans in complaint, and this thrills her. She wants him to want her. She lays her body over his, and nips at his lips. He's trying to kiss her properly, but she just snaps her teeth and laughs above him.
"Are you having fun darling?" Rhys asks her. Feyre bites down on his chin and nods. Her eyes dance and Rhys is smitten. He rolls his hips beneath her, but is powerless to do more while he is hand cuffed, and Feyre laughs again.
"Oh so if you're in charge, all you want is to tease?"
Feyre shrugs at first, and then moves a little lower to slide her hips on his. He lifts up off the bed to meet her, and her eyes are wide with joy. She slides over him again, and as he jerks under her she is giddy with the feeling of having so much effect on him, of being so in control of his pleasure. She wonders briefly if this is what it feels like for him when he doms, and then the thought fades away as the back and forth motion starts to heat her core, too.
She's just starting to lose herself in it, has just let her eyes slide closed in pleasure when the silver ball in the hourglass hits the glass and the sound peals out like a bell.
Feyre stops, looks at Rhys, and watches his eyes go wholly black.
"My turn," he whips out, low and dangerous, and then his magic flares and the dark gutters and suddenly Feyre is on her back beneath Rhys. She tries to reach up to him, but her wrists are shackled to the headboard.
"Submission is not weakness," Rhys told her. They had been mated only a few weeks and sometimes the need for him, her desire for him took over her so completely it felt like she was out of control. Over time, Rhys began to take the lead. Began to hold her tighter and tighter so she felt contained and grounded, until she needed his grip on her hips and his teeth in her skin. Feyre was relieved as she was mortified. Rhys noticed, and sat her down in the middle of the bed and told her that she only ever needed to submit to him when she wanted to, and when it fed her, and when she felt him worthy.
Rhys's shoulders move like a jungle cat, and a rolling purr slides from somewhere in his ribcage. Feyre finds that his weight is pressing down everywhere, and she can't move at all, and his cock is a pulse between her thighs.
"Possession is fragile but desire is divine," Rhys said. "Desire becomes surrender and surrender becomes power." He got to his knees and put her fingers to his lips.
Feyre feels the heat of his skin over every inch of her, and she relaxes into his touch. As fun as it had been to tease him, this is where she could truly let go, this is where her mind could finally stop, this is where she was free. And despite the heavy muscle that pins her to the mattress, she feels light as air. Rhys puts his mouth on her breast and pulls her nipple through his teeth, slow and viscous. He scrapes his fingers down her sides as his takes bites out of her neck, her collar bone, her stomach. He finds the knife edge of pain and adrenaline rushes through her on a wave of goosebumps, but she is never afraid.
"I promise you that I will always be in control so that you don't have to be. I will be your scout and your servant and your guard. If you let me. If you want me to. I just need to hear it from your lips."
"Yes Rhys. I want you to."
Rhys's tongue darts between her legs and unlike her playful, teasing movements over him before, he is sure and slow and thorough. He's pushed her underwear to one side, and now tears if at the seams. Feyre is molten beneath his fingers, and then one of his hand snakes up her body to softly squeeze over her throat. Feyre's core clenches and her moans lose their sound as the ecstasy floods in.
"Now you need to make me a promise. If you ever feel unsafe. If you ever want me to stop. If you ever change your mind. I need you to say the word 'yellow' to me, and then I will know to immediately stop. You can also tap me or a surface three times, if you cannot speak."
Feyre nodded.
"What's the word, Feyre?"
"It's yellow."
"Good girl."
Rhys rises before her, and does not take his hand from her throat as he rubs the head of his cock over her pussy. Feyre's hips buck off the bed, looking for more, but Rhys just holds her down and continues his motion.
"Don't you like being teased, Feyre darling?" Rhys asks her. "Not as good when you're on the receiving end?"
Feyre can't form words, is still trying to wriggle herself toward more friction. Rhys moves up her body and pushes his cock between her lips and down her tongue instead, deep as she had wanted it where he was before. She moans around him, and tries to touch herself, only to remember she is bound.
"Take it just like that," Rhys croons. "Show me what your pussy would be like." He thrusts into her mouth again, and she sucks hard against him. "Mmmm that's so good Feyre," Rhys tells her, and spends a minute watching her head move before he relents and settles back down over her.
"Are you ready to be fucked yet?" he asks her. Feyre nods soundlessly, and grinds her hips upward. Rhys slides himself tortuously slow up and down her slickness, and the shocks of pleasure light up her spine. She moves her knees up to his sides to try to get more contact, but although his head nudges at her entrance, he just continues to move back and forth over her.
"Does that feel good darling?" Rhys asks. "Shall I just stay here for a while?"
"No," Feyre moans. "More Rhys, more."
"Where are your manners, mate?" Rhys snaps. He reaches round to spank the side of her backside.
"Please!" Feyre blurts. "Please, please, please please," she begs. Rhys kisses her neck with his tongue, and the tip of him is pushing inside her. "Yes," she moans.
Then he pulls away, ducks his head and licks her roughly instead.
"No!" Feyre cries, while at the same time her hips buck up against Rhys's mouth. He sucks against her clit and flicks his tongue over and over it, before returning his hips to hers.
"Please," Feyre whispers. "Please, please."
He lines himself up again, his cock head just inside her as he kisses up her sternum. And now his hands are squeezing over her breasts and his thumbs stroke over her nipples through the sheer lace of her lingerie.
"Fuck," Feyre moans, arching her back to him. "Please Rhys, oh gods please, please." She strains against the leather cuffs, and the bed head creaks under the pressure.
Rhys sits up on his heels, and surveys with deep pleasure the writhing mess that Feyre makes on the bed. He can read her need for him like his name is inked on her skin, and there's nothing he loves more than the sight of her like this.
Except maybe being seated all the way deep inside her.
Rhys glides his hands down her skin and grips her hips as he finally, finally sinks himself all the way into her. The moan that Feyre makes is more than worth the wait.
"Rhys," she breathes out, and he fucks her lazily now, a slow rocking because he likes to take his time with her.
But Feyre has has enough. She plants her feet on the bed and pulls against the handcuffs for leverage, and she begins to fuck herself on his cock. For a minute Rhys just lets her, but the image is so gorgeous that he has to fuck her back, and then they're colliding hard and Feyre is coming before he even has the chance to tell her to do so.
Feyre bites her bottom lip hard as she climaxes, and Rhys watches it hit her like a wave cresting. After a minute, it begins to slow, but Rhys is not done by half. So he tosses one of her legs over his shoulder, holds his thumb over her clit, and speeds up the pace of her hips until her first orgasm bleeds into a second. He is relentless, will not let her come down until his own release is sliding down his spine and when he comes his hands grip the headboard hard enough to crack it.
Rhys bends to kiss her belly, her throat and then her mouth before he removes the handcuffs and rubs her wrists gently. He pulls the blanket up over Feyre as she lies there, spent, and then continues to press his lips behind her ear and in her hair as he curls his body around her.
"You did so good today," he whispers.
"Even when I was on top?" Feyre asks sleepily.
"Especially then," Rhys assures her. He eyes the red mark on her shoulder where the lingerie strap has been sitting tight, and he takes it all off with his magic. He likes it when she sleeps naked anyway.
"I love you," Rhys says against her back.
"I love you too," Feyre murmurs, and within seconds she is asleep.
****
Yeah look this is a bit of a mess because I was trying to fit a lot in. Normally I could actually go a bit harder on the kink but since we're supposed to be trying a little switching and delving into conversations, I spent time doing those things instead? Maybe should try to focus on just one in future. Or, not be so post-happy and actually edit my shit. Anyway I hope you guys still like it lol.
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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mmvalentine · 9 days ago
Hey. Can you write a canon divergence where feyre runs into Issac when she visits her family in acomf and jealous Rhys👀
A little 'fresh mating bond' feysand? Oh yes. Yes I can.
We're All Just Animals
We arrived in the human world a day before the meeting with the mortal queens. Now that we were mated, Rhys was voicing a new interest in the village where I grew up, and wanted to spend a day walking around my old town. More importantly, we wanted time to walk around with each other in a place where we didn't get stopped every other minute to be congratulated by doting citizens. With the bond so fresh we... weren't always up for being around other people for extended periods of time and avoided being caught in casual conversations.
So there we were, wandering the market place like newlyweds. At home, I had put a stop to Rhys buying me lavish gowns and precious jewels. Leave the hoarding to Amren, I always said. But here I let him spoil me with trinkets from local vendors: wooden rings, pressed flowers, and spun sugar in the shapes of birds.
To our great satisfaction, no one approached us. No one knew who we were or wanted to make small talk. I supposed I looked very different now to what I used to- where I had been a pale, dirty starveling last I lived here, I was now fae with decadent meals every day and months of Illyrain training. If I walked past nineteen year old me, I'm sure she wouldn't recognise me.
But Isaac Hale did.
"Feyre?" he called.
"Isaac!" I beamed. Since Rhys and I had been mated, it felt like everything delighted me. Despite the looming tensions with Hybern, I was just so deliriously happy, and the feeling was as intoxicating as it was unfamiliar.
Isaac? Rhys echoed in my mind. He knew exactly who Isaac was.
"How are you?" I asked him. "Where's your lovely wife?"
"I'm good. She's at home," Isaac said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to stare too hard at me. I remembered how it felt to be dazzled by the beauty of the fae, and I felt a little sorry for him.
"I'm supposed to be bringing home a bag of salt and a few other spices," Isaac said. "Should we walk together?"
Ice crackled into my veins, starting where Rhys's hand held mine and shooting through my arm to my heart. I glanced at him, and if his grip hadn't turned vice-like, you couldn't tell that he was bothered at all.
The mating bond was a strange thing. The ever calm, ever suave Rhys I knew was consumed by the possessive instincts of evolutions past, and I wondered in the last few days where his reasonable self had gone to. I was all too aware of his absolute intolerance of males around me- even his own brothers, sometimes.
"Sure," I said, smiling beatifically at Isaac.
Then again, maybe the mating bond did strange things to me, too.
We turned and strolled down the street together, and as we did, Rhys's hand slipped from mind and slid round my waist instead. Tugged me into his side, and dug a little too hard into my flesh.
"So," he said, his voice perfectly light. "Isaac is it?"
"Yes," Isaac blinked, as if only now becoming aware of Rhys. My smile grew slightly wider, while Rhys beside me only got colder. I couldn't deny the rush I felt when Rhys got like this. When I could make Rhys like this. "I'm an... old friend of Feyre's."
"Funny," Rhys said casually. "I'd never heard of you."
Liar, I shot at Rhys. His talons scraped against the shield of my mind, found purchase and latched on. I shivered.
Isaac chuckled good-naturedly. "Ah, well, I suppose that makes sense, given... ah, our relationship." Wrong answer.
The talons twitched tighter, and the edges of my vision blurred for a second. I swatted at them, and they loosened again.
"It's been a long time," Isaac said quickly, noting the way Rhys and I walked together, the way Rhys was holding on to me.
"Too long," I purred. "We were going to stop by the tavern for a drink, if you'd like to join us." Rhys stopped dead in his tracks.
Feyre, he murmured, dangerously low.
"That would be lovely," Isaac said, and only noticed a second too late that Rhys's expression had lost all pretense at civility and was now openly hostile.
Rhys, I mimicked.
"Fantastic," Rhys said, eyes sparking. "Lead the way then." He gestured dramatically out in front and Isaac, now wildly uncertain, glanced at me before walking ahead of us.
What are you doing? I asked Rhys.
Going for a drink with your ex-lover, apparently, Rhys replied. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
He's an old friend, I reasoned. Don't kill him.
Rhys's eyes slid sideways to mine. Feyre I know you what you're doing.
I blinked innocently back at him. I don't know what you're talking about.
I pried his talons off my mind primly, and they sulked away.
I hadn't been to the local tavern since leaving the human world. It was dark and dingy just like I remembered- although my fae nose now picked up scents that I really didn't need amplified.
There were tall barrels dotted around the room that stood in as tables, and in the centre of the space were a couple of worn couches. We picked up our mugs of ale and sat down on one of the latter. I had Rhys on my left, and I leaned my back against his shoulder as I turned to Isaac. Isaac set his drink on the low table, and sat down on my other side. Moved a little further away when a low warning growl emanating from Rhys as soon as his backside hit the cushion.
"How are your sisters?" Isaac asked, now clearly uncomfortable. Rhys's arms slid around my middle, and his chin rested on my shoulder.
"They're doing well," I told him. "They're much more comfortable since my father's trade has picked up."
"Yes, I've been glad to see your family's good fortune return," Isaac said. He reached for his mug, which happened to be near my knee. Rhys's teeth snapped loudly next to my ear, and I slapped his thigh lightly.
"Behave," I said mildly. I reached up and stroked his hair without looking at him, and he moved his head to touch his nose to my palm.
Isaac, on the other hand, was looking at Rhys with wide eyes and had snatched his hand back so fast you'd think the tankard was on fire. Without a drink, he rubbed his hands together awkwardly. I picked up my own mug, and slid Isaac's across to him at the same time. The taste was sawdust on my lips now, but Isaac drank his down quickly.
"See the Archerons often, do you Isaac?" Rhys asked lightly. He was now circling his nails on my knee, and they were just a bit too sharp. I could feel it all the way up my legs. A craving for more, more, more of Rhys's touch stoked in my belly. Isaac blanched a little at how Rhys's mood seemed to be lurching.
"Uh, no, but the family is well known around town, of course."
Dear gods, I thought. His hands are actually shaking around his ale.
Rhys saw this too, and his gaze went straight to them.
"I see," was all he said, and then he pulled me right into his lap. I would have objected, it was far too intimate for this public setting. But then his hands squeezed on my hips and I realised he was hard beneath me, and all thoughts emptied out of my head. I shifted my hips automatically.
Isaac tipped back the rest of his ale, and stood hurriedly.
"Well," he said. "It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Feyre."
I held out my hand and he touched my fingers. Rhys went deathly still around me, and as soon as Isaac turned to leave Rhys was up and walking me roughly across the floor. Down the hall toward the staircase that led up to the rooms, where the shadows were dense and we were away from the main room. Then he spun me roughly and pushed me toward the wall, where my hands caught me and my breath came fast. Rhys threw up a shield so hard it cracked the beam on the ceiling, and then he had his lips on the back of my neck and his hands pushing up my skirts.
"Mine," Rhys snarled in my ear. His nails raked up the backs of my thighs and I gasped at the sensation. "You're fucking mine." And then with no further preamble he yanked my hips back toward him and sank himself inside me.
I cried out with the sudden movement, and then a wild little laugh escaped me.
"Oh so you think it's funny, do you?" Rhys asked, and started fucking me with his hands tight on my hips.
"A little," I said breathlessly. "Are you jealous of a young mortal man?"
"No," Rhys growled, and one of his hands landed on the wall next to mine, bracing as his pace increased. "No I'm not jealous of that boy."
"Then what's- oh, mmm what's wrong?"
"What's wrong is you're my mate and no one, fucking no one gets to touch you but me." He punctuated his sentence with sharp thrusts of his hips. I arched my back to get him deeper, and his teeth gripped my neck at the junction of my shoulder.
"Well make me yours then," I said, and the words set Rhys off into a frenzy. His hands slid over my chest and squeezed my breasts on top my clothes, and he was fucking me so hard I could barely breathe.
"You wanna be mine?" Rhys panted. "Fuck me back." I moaned and tried to keep up with the hurtling pace he had set. "That's it," Rhys said. "Fuck me back and come on my cock."
Indeed the pleasure was piling fast now, and I gloried in this unhinged, savage version of Rhys that so rarely got let out. Now, mating bond in hand, I had its collar on the end of my leash and I loved it.
My head fell back against Rhys's shoulder and caught my ear lobe between his teeth. My hand reached for my clit, but Rhys stopped me and put both my hands firmly on the wall in front of me. Then his own fingers slid between my thighs and his tongue continued under my ear in time with his hand.
"Come on my cock Feyre," he said roughly. "Do it. Do it now."
And my body knew who it was answering to. My climax stuttered out of me and I spasmed in the cage of his arms. Rhys tightened around me as he fell into release too, and we were shaking and shuddering and coming apart against the dull wood of the tavern.
Rhys rested his forehead on the top of my shoulder while we caught our breath, and then he cleaned us up with a wave. The sounds of the crowd floated back in as the shield protecting us dissolved, and Rhys grinned against my beck as he hugged me once more into his chest.
"Such a wicked, cruel mate," he purred. I turned my head to kiss him, far too pleased with myself, before walking back out in front of him.
I ran straight into a man with as much ale on his breath as was left in his mug.
"Oh hello sweetheart," he said.
And Rhys stepped up behind me and gave such a feral growl that the man backed away very fast.
"Home," he gritted out, and I kissed him hard on the mouth as he winnowed.
****
It occurs to me that I could also have done a whole bit about Rhys reading Isaac's memories of Feyre in the barn, but also it's 11.24pm you get what you get 😂 I really gotta stop forcing myself to post so fast for the note validation and put more effort in to editing and refining...
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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mmvalentine · 10 days ago
prompt request for part 2 of your utm fic? pretty please? :)
NONNIE I ALMOST SAID NO hahaha honestly @asteria-of-mars is cooking up some WILD dark!Rhys and if you're looking to not know if you're turned on or horrified I can recommend her fic Undone. She is better at this than me. But okay I'll give this a little whirl just for you, because your please was so pretty.
Fuck You, Feyre Darling Pt 2 (Mercy)
Read Part 1
Guilty.
That's all that was swirling around in my head for the next two days: guilty, guilty, guilty. I was a bad person, I was a cheater, I was so full of shame I could have choked on it.
But then Rhysand appeared in the same corner of my cell that he always did, and I had a better idea of where to place my anger.
"You fucking prick," I spat at him. He just raised his eyebrows.
"Dear me," he said. "And just what have I done to raise your ire today?"
"You made me cheat on Tamlin," I said, knowing full well that was neither true nor fair.
"I didn't," Rhys said mildly, flicking a speck of lint off his lapel.
"You did," I snapped. I stepped up to him. "You and your fucking mind tricks." My chin jerked up to stare into his eyes. Most powerful High Lord in all of Prythian? I didn't give a damn.
"I assure you, I don't need mind tricks to coax females into my bed," Rhys said, and his unaffected air was infuriating.
"You forced me," I ground out. "Admit it."
"Admit something that's not true?"
"Admit it!"
"Why Feyre?"
"Because!" I yelled. "If I wanted it then I'm a terrible person and I'm here in this horrible place to save Tamlin only to find that I don't deserve him anyway." My voice broke on the last word, and to my horror, a sob cracked in my chest.
Not again, I thought. I couldn't bear the thought of breaking down in front of Rhys, not again. He already had so much of me.
But Rhys just stood there a moment, with his hands in his pockets. Then he said, "Fine," and then the world blurred and we were back in his room.
Rhys pushed me back onto the bed, and I fell, startled.
"So what, Feyre?" he asked. I realised with shock that he was angry. "What do you want?"
Despite the darkness of the room, his violet eyes seemed to glow brighter than ever.
"Do you want me to have forced you, so you don't have to feel guilty? Or do you want to be forced because you deserve to be punished?"
Rhys pulled his jacket off and threw it onto a chair by the wall. I shrank back against the headboard, suddenly nervous.
"Because see now, I may be a whore but I'll not have some mortal questioning my honour." He knelt up on the bed in front of me, and rolled up his sleeves.
"However, if you were after a punishment," he paused, and removed his belt to fold it in his hand. Then he gave me a grin that was all teeth and no smile at all. "You only had to ask."
The anger still coiled in his voice, and now, now I was scared of him.
I didn't know what I was expecting- I had goaded him, but not thought through what would happen next. And now here we were, back in his room, and I couldn't tell where my fear stopped and my anticipation began.
What I did know is that the heaviness of the shame in my limbs had been replaced by adrenaline and that was a trade I was only too happy to make.
"Well?" Rhys demanded. "Is the cruel little creature here to repent for her sins?
And Cauldron damn me to the deepest depths of hell, my lips parted and I whispered, "yes."
"Good," Rhys snarled, and then quick as lightning he had grabbed my ankle jerked me back down the bed. Disappeared my clothes by magic, rolled me over onto my stomach, where I tried to drag myself away with my hands but he yanked me back by the hips and slapped me hard across the ass.
I gasped, as pain burst before my eyes. I forgot everything, I knew nothing at all expect for the flash of sensation, and then a flooding peace. Yes. This is what I deserved. Rhys buckled his belt around my ankles.
"Is this what you wanted?" Rhys hissed in my ear. I hadn't noticed him moving closer.
"Yes," I whispered. Rhys spanked me a second time, and that white hot flash popped in my vision again.
"Is this what you needed, you wicked mortal thing?"
"Yes," I said again, and it came out as a moan.
"Beg me," Rhys commanded. He landed three more stinging slaps, and I couldn't help but gasp at each one. "Beg me for mercy."
He smacked me once more, and leaned down to my ear again. "Beg me, and I will deny you."
And I would never know how to admit this out loud, not to Rhys, not to Tamlin, not to anyone. But it was exactly what I craved.
So I pushed my hips up toward Rhys, turned my face to the side, and breathed, "Mercy."
"No," Rhys replied coldly, and then I was spanked on the top of my ass, on the join to my thigh on either side, and then once right over my bare pussy.
The shock of the last had my fingers curling in the sheets. It was so unexpected that at first my legs clenched together automatically- but then as the pain faded it was replaced by a spreading heat and my muscles relaxed completely.
The next touch was a rub of his hand over my reddened backside and down between my legs, and where he had slapped me my skin was so sensitive I shook hard under his fingers.
"And now what, Feyre darling?" Rhys asked. His voice was low and dangerous. I rode the edge of pain and fear and pleasure, and couldn't form words. When Rhys stroked his hand down me again, I realised I was thoroughly wet from being spanked.
"Do you need to be fucked now?" he crooned.
"Yes," I said, and even though he wasn't touching me at all now, my breaths came in pants.
"Do you need to be pounded so hard it feels like you're not in control?" Rhys asked me.
"Yes," I repeated, not able to say any more than that for the shame of it.
"Beg me again," Rhys said.
"Please," I whimpered. "Mercy."
Rhys's fingers slipped back between my legs, finding my clit and rubbing tight, fast circles into it. My hips bucked at the suddenness of the motion, and then the pleasure began to pool. I wanted to push my knees apart on the bed to get closer to his touch, but his belt still bound by ankles together. I arched my back instead, and Rhys's steady rhythm had me careening toward my orgasm faster than I thought possible.
"Rhys," I moaned.
"Yes Feyre?" he said. "Are you going to come?"
"Yes, oh gods, yes," I said, and my toes curled as my climax crested-
And then Rhys pulled his hand away and slapped me across the backside instead.
I let out a frustrated groan, and Rhys purred, "Again."
It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted. Then, "please," I begged. "Mercy."
Rhys's fingers returned, but this time he was sliding them into me and moving infuriatingly slowly. I rocked my hips back and forth on his hand, trying to build his pace. It was almost enough.
"Please," I said again. Breathlessly. Desperately. "Please."
Rhys's fingers sped up and curled to that spot inside me, and then I was chasing my climax again. My head spun, then buzzed as I found-
Nothing. Rhys's fingers slipped out of me and I was spanked again, on the other side, and hot tears sprang to my eyes. A combination of the sudden pain and the sharper frustration.
"Please Rhys!" I cried out. "Please, please, mercy, please."
Rhys's voice in my ear, one more time. "Do you deserve it?" he asked. "Do you deserve pleasure?"
"No," I whispered.
"That's right," he replied. And then sank his cock deep inside me nonetheless.
Rhys was not gentle, Rhys did not give me time to acclimatise. Just pushed inside my already soaking pussy and fucked me hard with my ankles tied the entire time. As wound up as I was, he had barely gotten started when my orgasm slammed into me. I came soundlessly on his cock, tears blocking my throat, my lips mouthing his name into the sheets.
Once my high had subsided, Rhys pulled out, removed the belt from my ankles, and turned my over on my back. I was so wrung out I barely registered the movement. And then with a shocking gentleness, he came back to me. Pulled my legs around his waist and slid inside me again- but this time moved with a rolling consistency that had me building up again, coasting on the edge of pleasure rather than screaming toward it, and when this orgasm came I was in the middle of it before I had known it'd begun.
My back arched up into Rhys's arms and he pressed kisses down my sternum as I came, and then just when I thought I'd start coming down his hips got faster and his own release triggered a new wave for me, too. I held on to him as he shuddered into me, and it wasn't until he had rolled onto his back and pulled me into his chest that I realised he had stopped punishing me.
"Rhys?" I asked softly.
"Mm?"
"Am I a bad person?"
Rhys sighed into the dark, and when he spoke he did not sound like his usual, arrogant self. He just sounded tired.
"No Feyre," he said, "you're not a bad person."
"I'm betraying someone I love," I argued.
"We're Under the Mountain, now," Rhys said. "We're only just surviving. And here, that is enough.”
We lay there for a while longer, until I thought I could almost fall asleep there in the High Lord's arms. What an absurd thought.
"I'm ready to go back to my cell now," I whispered.
"In the morning," was all Rhys said, and then he turned us and tugged me back against his chest facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I gave in. After all, there would be plenty of time to feel bad about it all if we survived at all. And maybe that was a mercy I could grant myself.
****
Eeee stop making me go UTM anons, it's toooo sad I'm gonna leave this dark edgy shit to Liz now and go back to my palace of fluff 🥺🥺
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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gopeachllama · 10 days ago
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The Lost Children's Keeper Chpt 1
->SUMMARY
a modern AU fic wherein feysand and the inner circle are badass crime fighting FBI agents
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Chapter One
Supervisory Special Agent Rhysand Nygard thrummed his fingers on his crossed knees as the fifteenth minute passed since he sat down. He must have truly stepped in it this time if the Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI was making him wait this long. Although, he had already confirmed that suspicion when he was made to drive all the way to DC for this. Usually, his boss chose their weekly teleconferences with his team to hand his ass to him. Much to his team member’ amusement. Rhys supposed he should be grateful. He smoothed out his impatience with a silky smile at the smug looking woman sitting at the reception desk.
“It’ll just be a few more moments.” No doubt the Assistant Director’s secretary, whose name Rhys has long since forgotten, was eager to watch him squirm.
“It’s no problem Judy.” The woman’s smile faltered slightly, “After all, I’d much rather be here catching up with you. How is that husband of yours?” Her eyes immediately dropped to the tell-tale sliver of pale skin on her ring finger. Her silence was all the agent needed to know he struck gold. The middle-aged woman’s expression quickly soured before returning her attention to her computer screen. Rhys couldn’t quite bring himself to feel satisfied however, because for a moment there was a brief flash of something on her face before she looked away. He wouldn’t usually resort to stooping so low with his quips, but he was nervous, and it was a feeling he felt rarely enough to know he hated it. When the secretary’s desk telephone rang, Rhys didn’t bother to wait. He immediately got up and charged his way into his boss’ office.
“Director Kwon, you’re looking as radiant as always.” Rhys announced as he shut the door on the glare that was burning holes into the back of his head.
CID Assistant Director, Amren Kwon, did not look up from the files open on her desk as she spoke. “Shut up and sit down Nygard. I don’t have the state of mind to deal with your bullshit today.”
“And here I was thinking you called because you missed seeing my pretty face.” Rhys slid into the chair opposite the desk, throwing a leg over the other with practiced ease.
“Speak out of term again, agent, and I’ll have you kneecapped.”
“Understood.” Rhys wasn’t fooled by the way they fell into their usual verbal sparring. The pair had a history. Of sorts. The agent had known the Assistant Director since his days at Quantico. Rhys, who had joined the Bureau on a whim and absent of a guiding figure, was easily singled out by the older woman. In the years since, along with being his mentor, she had him complete the jobs that required more of a…morally ambiguous approach. And despite all of it, she had his loyalty, because he would have been fired several times over if it wasn’t for her. But that didn’t mean the woman didn’t scare the ever-loving shit out of him. Amren gave her files one last slow perusal before lifting those steel grey eyes to Rhys. Eyes that had decades of relentless ambitions and harsh conviction behind them. She was ruthless, in a way you had to be, in order to get to where she was now: the very first Asian-American Assistant Director in the Bureau’s long history.
Amren arched a single manicured eyebrow at him. “So, you want to tell me what that was in Portland?”
Portland. Shit. Rhys carefully keep his expression neutral. “We investigated the crime, gathered the evidence, and apprehended the perpetrator. That was the job you sent us up there for, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t bring back some lobster.” When her icy gaze did not waiver, Rhys yielded. “We went by the book, Director. I don’t know what more you want me to say.”
“Oh? And what book was that? ‘Interrogation For Dummies’?” Amren leaned back into her chair. The large size of its leather back against her small frame was almost comical.
“I suppose the CIA are useful for some things.” Rhys murmured as he picked off an invisible piece of lint from his suit jacket.
“Goddammit Rhys!” The woman slapped a hand on the surface of her desk, “there’s a chance that scumbag could walk now.”
Rhys’ thoughts went to the scumbag in question. Whose last encounter with one of his agents resulted in a confession and a broken nose. A confession, nonetheless, but not quite the method of questioning encouraged by the Federal Bureau of Investigations. But when the images of the three teenage girls he stalked, mutilated, and dumped at hidden riverbanks flashed through his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the repercussion of his actions.
“That’s a problem for the prosecutors. Like I said, we did our jobs.” Rhys had to fight the instinct to come to his team’s defence. The rational part of him knew they did what they had to do. “I didn’t think I’d have to justify myself to you of all people.”
“Oh, I am well aware, Agent Nygard. But the messes you make, are messes I have to deal with. And after this clusterfuck of a federal investigation, I’ve got the suits upstairs who haven’t looked a perp in the eye since goddamn Beltway breathing down my neck. I don’t expect those half-wits of yours to play by the rules, but you need to be a team player here Rhys.” The older woman let out a defeated sigh and ran a hand through her sleek, shoulder-length midnight hair, “You’re damn good at your job, I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second I wouldn’t throw your ass out on the curb just to save my own.”
Rhys did his best to stifle his growing panic. Without his job, without his people­, there wasn’t much left of him. Given, his boss threatening his career was just another Tuesday for him. But it was the briefest flash of remorse in her eyes that had him curling his fingers tightly around the arms of his chair. Amren Kwon was a lot of things, but remorseful was not one of them.
“So, shall I assume you didn’t drag my ass all the way to DC just to compliment me on my splendid work ethic?” Rhys gave his best the-devil-may-care smile even though knew his boss wasn’t fooled by the weak attempt to change the subject. Amren, it seemed, was waiting for it because she promptly tossed a manila folder his way, which Rhys wordlessly picked up and opened. After a quick scan of the first page, his eyebrows lifted into in forehead.
“I trust you’re familiar with the case.” Rhys just made a non-committal hum without taking his eyes off the document. “This information hasn’t been released to the public yet, but the remains of the victim were found just a few hours ago. Preliminary examinations put time-of-death around midday yesterday. That, and the way in which the body was disposed, are consistent with another victim whose remains were uncovered just six days prior. All indications point to a-”
“Serial killer.” Rhys finished off.
“Yes.” The Assistant Director replied gravely. “The second victim was reported missing two days after the remains of the first victim were found.”
Rhys continued to stare at the picture in his lap. Toothy smile, rosy cheeks, wide eyes, pigtails.
“Agent Nygard.”
Rhys dragged his heavy gaze back to his boss and answered, “which means we have less than forty-eight hours until a possible third victim goes missing.”
Amren just lowered her head once in confirmation. “As soon as you get back to Baltimore, you and your team are on the first flight out.”
“Roger that. I make sure we keep our hands clean this time; I promise.” Rhys said with hollow optimism as he closed the file.
“Goddamn kids, Rhys.” He couldn’t look away from the merciless gaze she pinned him with, “you do whatever you have to. Just take this fucker out.” Rhys caught the double meaning in her words and simply nodded in understanding.
“Not so fast,” Amren said as he went to stand. “There’s one more thing I need to give you.” She picked another file and handed it to him. This time, Rhys only got through the first line before his eyes shot back to the older woman.
“Absolutely not.”
“Tough shit Nygard, because of Portland, the team’s image is at an all-time low and this was the only way I could get the higher ups to hold off on pulling the plug entirely.”
“Our image? Christ, Amren, we aren’t the fucking Kardashians,” Rhys scoffed, “Beside, isn’t that why you appointed Mor as our public liaison?” Rhys failed at hiding his disgust over the last two words.
“Morrigan Starling is an exemplary agent of the FBI and when you eventually fuck this up too and the dust settles, she will be the only one left with her job.”
Rhys could feel himself teetering on the edge of a cliff, and for the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do. “I won’t accept this, Amren,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“You will, and you’ll do it with a goddamn smile on your face,” Amren shifted her hand to hover above her desk telephone, “Because if you don’t, the only way you’re getting out of here is by leaving your badge and gun behind.” She pressed down on the intercom button and Rhys began to wonder how many bullets it would take for the bulletproof windows of her office shatter and make his escape. “Send her in, Dolly.”
*
Special Agent Feyre Archeron smoothed out the lapels of her suit jacket for the umpteen time since she sat down. Her suit was crinkle-free, of course; practically straight off the store’s hangers. For a moment, she panicked, thinking that was the still the case. Her hand shot to the back of the collar to feel around for the tags. But of course, ripping them off was the first thing she did when she brought the clothes home for the first time. For weeks, she spied this very outfit through the windows of her favourite store, desperate for a sign from the universe to forego the shamefully expensive price tag and purchase it. Then last week, when her supervisor informed her, she was to have a meeting with the Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division herself, she didn’t hesitate. And here she was, sitting in the waiting room of Amren Kwon’s office at FBI headquarters. Her brand-new suit immaculate in the glow of the cheap fluorescent lights. There was no way she was going to present herself as anything but for this meeting. It was rare for an agent so early in their career such as herself, to receive their reassignments directly from someone so high up in the Bureau. And in the past week, there was an incessant, frail voice inside her head telling her to be suspicious about that fact. But truthfully, she wasn’t. She had known since she was a teenager, she going to be an FBI agent. Every part-time job she worked to save up for college, every late night she spent studying to achieve her honours, was for this very moment. She worked harder than anyone else, and she whole-heartedly believed she deserved to be here. Feyre loved her previous assignment, but she was ready for something new. She wanted to be in the field, to see the action with her own two eyes. Her heart sped at the thought of where this meeting could take her. Maybe New York City? Chicago? She always dreamed of living in New Orleans. The young agent could hardly contain her excitement - or her underlying nerves - and she almost jumped in her seat as the shrill of the secretary’s telephone pierced the air. She didn’t go to stand though, lest she seem impulsive.
After a few words into the receiver of her telephone, the secretary raised her eyes to the agent. “She’s ready for you.”
Feyre stood, smoothing down the lapels of her suit jacket for the last time, and walked to the office door. She made sure to send a warm smile at the middle-aged woman, “thank you, Ma’am.”
The woman only gave her a strained smile and muttered under her breathe, most likely words she had intended not to be heard, “good luck.”
Perhaps, if Feyre had known what she was about to walk into, if her thoughts weren’t so caught in visits to the French Quarter or attending Mardi Gras, she would have asked the nervous secretary to explain what she meant by her words. But her hand was already pushing the door open, and once she saw the woman she admired, sitting at her desk in the centre of the room, all her thoughts melted into the air with her breathe.
~ ~ ~
✌🏾
Yes, I too cannot believe that it's only the first chapter and I've already name dropped the k*rdashi*ans. I'm so sorry 😔
If you liked this please reblog! Thanks!
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gopeachllama · 11 days ago
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The Lost Children's Keeper
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Prickly and proud Special Agent Rhysand Nygard has always been adverse to change. Especially when it comes to his rag-tag band of unconventional - sometimes unhindged - agents. Their methods to enforce justice may be somewhat crude, but for investigating the most twisted and dire of crimes, there is no better team for the job. And while their free rein within the FBI has largely been overlooked, when they go one mistake too far, all eyes are on them.
Ambitious and straight-laced Special Agent Feyre Archeron hasn't been with the FBI for very long. But in a short amount of time, her relentless work ethic and tenacious attitude has not gone unnoticed. When an opportunity arises to be a part of the notorius yet undeniably successful team headed by the aloof Special Agent Nygard, she grabs it with both hands. But at Rhys' swift and utter revulsion towards the rookie agent, Feyre quickly learns her coverted job isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Meanwhile, as horror befalls the tight-knit community of Bluewoods, Georgia. The pair begrudgingly set aside their differences and egos to hunt down the vicious serial killer that runs rampant thorugh the once peaceful town.
A modern AU acotar fic wherein feysand and the inner circle are badass, crime-fighting FBI agents.
Chapter One
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mmvalentine · 13 days ago
hi!! how are you? I’m the one who sent you that dream prompt lol
I was thinking of this (way less weird) prompt: where feyre and Rhys knew each other since kids and were together, there’s a part of the books that Rhys says he and mor used to be sent to the cabin when they got into trouble (I think?) and here it is: Rhys has got himself in a fight with his dad and is sent there alone, but feyre finds a way to go to him without anyone knowing and they have the cabin all to themselves *insert smut here*
Hello little dreamer! Alright I've done so much prompt work these last couple of days and was trying to work through them chronologically because that's what seems fair but now I am tired and I just want to do one more and then take a break and this one is hands down my FAVOURITE of the ones left in my inbox right now. So you're getting bumped up!! Bit of a long one, fair warning.
A Chink in the Wall
Rhys has been alive for eighteen years, has known Feyre for seventeen, and has loved her for what feels like a thousand. He does not remember a time without Feyre, he has known she is his mate since before he knew what the word meant, and their progression from childhood best friends to lovers was something he does not remembering happening at one particular time, but gradually, the same way his legs had grown longer.
What he does remember is the first time they'd slept together, and how he'd spent so long thinking about it beforehand that he'd thought he'd go mad, only to discover the real madness was once they'd started and then couldn't stop. He'd thought he was hyper-aware of Feyre before- now the scent of her hit him like a brick any time she walked in the room, and once he'd caught her scent he needed to be touching her. Would start to shake and fall apart at the seams until he could pull her into his lap.
Over the years, Rhys's mother always told him that he was too rough with Feyre. Did it when they were kids and did it now, when Feyre would be around their house and he constantly had his hands under her hair or squeezing on her her hip or scratching at her belly.
"You can put her down for one second, for Cauldron's sake," she'd say over dinner.
And Rhys knew why. Had always known that as the High Lord's only son, he had power roiling off him in waves. He figured it was part of the reason why he was always moving, more and more as he got older. Whether it was sparring with the Illyrians or crawling thought the bedroom of Feyre's bedroom window, it felt like he leapt between extremes these days. Felt like he was always thirsty and needing to swallow down violence and pleasure and feeling like water. His father called it the "age of fighting and fucking;" his mother said this is why they couldn't have nice things.
But his mother doesn't know Feyre like he does. Feyre isn't some fragile little girl, she is the strongest person he knows. She is the only one who, when he is throwing all he has at her, can not only contain the energy flooding out of him in uncontrollable torrents, but still loves him all the same for it.
So these days, he does not like to be without her. Does not like to be too far from her, and although they both have curfews, Rhys does not often sleep alone.
Today is a exception.
Today, Rhys is fighting with his father because he stole a fine bottle of brandy from his father's shelf and snuck it between the bars of the cell where Azriel has been locked away. Again.
Rhys yells that what they are doing to Azriel is cruel and if they let it go on they are just as bad. His father yells back that it is not their place to meddle in another family's business and what does this have to do with Rhys being a sneak and a thief? Rhys says it is typical of his father to care more about alcohol than the life of a fae, and his father says and what exactly are you trying to say boy? And then he tells Rhys that he was not so old that Rhys's power is greater than his just yet, and then the fight breaks out.
Rhys does not like to reflect on what happens next too much because he wants to win so badly, wants to best his father just once, but he is eighteen and his father is nine hundred and twenty and the High Lord of the largest court in Prythian.
Suffice to say, the fight is over when Rhys has a black eye and bruised ribs, his father is holding him off the floor by his shirt front, and his mother is pleading with him to put him down.
He drops Rhys with a thud, and Rhys glowers at him.
"The cabin," his father snarls.
"Surely he's had punishment enough," his mother says, but his father does not look at her.
"You come swinging your fists at me?" he says to Rhys. His voice is quiet now, but glitters with rage. "You steal from me, you defy me, and then you come at me with your pathetic little claws out? Well. You can spend three days in isolation."
Rhys looks toward his mother, but there's nothing she can do. He opens his mouth to sling a final insult at his father, but space is already folding around him and he's being sent where no one else can winnow in or out without his father's explicit say so.
Rhys spends the next twenty minutes angrily pacing the cabin. He flings shadows aimlessly at the cabinets, curses his father eight times to sunday, and punches a hole in the wall. It is the latter that gets Feyre's attention.
Ouch, she says through the bond. I felt that one.
Rhys drops onto a couch heavily, the anger washing out of him at the sound of Feyre's voice in his mind.
I'm sorry, he says. I know you hate it when I break things.
Things. Your own knuckles. Yeah it's not my favourite.
Rhys sighs. I'm in the cabin, he tells her.
I know, she says. What did you do this time?
Got into a fight with my dad.
Well did you at least land a couple good ones?
Rhys grins, in spite of himself. I did manage to get a kick into his stomach, this time.
Good, Feyre says. Unlike his mother, she never tells him to try to get along with his father.
I miss you, Rhys says.
You saw me this morning, Feyre points out.
Yes, replied Rhys, but you had way too many clothes on. It didn't count. He can almost feel Feyre shifting in his mind.
You always think I'm wearing too many clothes, she says.
I do, Rhys agrees. Not naked is not good enough.
He slouches back on the couch and closes his eyes. Although he is not yet powerful enough to take down his father, his power is growing. Day by day it stretches and expands uncomfortably, like growing pains, and when he's not in Feyre's bed, sometimes the shadows hound him at night. They claw at him now, rake at his chest like a cat that thinks it's giving affection but leaves you in tatters.
He turns his thoughts back to more pleasant things.
Take it off, he growls at Feyre. Take it all off. I hate it when I can't see your skin.
And what makes you think I've been wearing clothes this whole time? Feyre asks. Rhys freezes, and is rock hard in an instant.
Show me, he shoots down the bond.
Ask nicely, Feyre answers.
Please, Rhys says. Runs his talons down the shields of her mind from top to bottom. Please. Sends her a memory of him kissing her every inch of skin. Please.
Feyre's shudder reaches him like a whisper, and then he's seeing through her eyes.
The interior of her bedroom. Where he spends more time than in his own. Clothes strewn on the floor- boots kicked off in the corner. Illyrian leathers dumped in a pile. Under garments hanging off the end of the bed.
Feyre's bare ankles crossed in front of her on her bed, on top of the covers.
Rhys shivers. He watches Feyre's gaze travel excruciatingly slowly upward, up her shins, past her knees, onto her lovely thighs.
More, Rhys breathes, but Feyre pauses. Her knees bend and the view shifts, as if she has been sitting up and is now laying back down. I need you like I need air, Rhys whimpers, and his hand grabs at the insistent ache in the front of his pants.
Mmm, sighs Feyre. Sometimes I need you. Sometimes I think I could just do it myself. Her gaze finally shifts and watches her own hand slide between her legs.
Oh you cruel thing! Rhys says. He is now practically panting the sight of her starting without him. He loves it. He hates it. It's nowhere near enough.
You know it's not as good by yourself, Rhys tells her.
I don't know, Feyre muses. I'm pretty sure it's faster. Rhys growls.
Who needs faster, he says, when I can be so, so slow. He shows her the image of him settling between her knees. Pressing kisses that start at her knee and travel down her inner thigh. Laying the flat of his tongue on her and licking a lazy stripe up her pussy that ends in a suckling kiss over her clit.
Feyre moans straight down the bond, and it cleaves through Rhys like a arrow shot true. Get over here, he tells her, and Feyre laughs breathlessly.
I can't, lover, she says. Your father has that place warded like a prison, remember? Rhys swears out loud and hurls more shadows uselessly against the walls of magic.
Alright, alright, Feyre says to him. You know just throwing things at it isn't going to work.
Fuck this, Rhys says savagely. You're my mate, he can't keep us apart.
Well, we just need to outsmart him, then, Feyre reasons. He might be stronger, but I've always thought you were smarter. Well, she amends. At least you were when you bothered to use your brain and before you were all... testosterone-y.
Rhys finds himself smiling. Testosterone-y?
Yeah, you know, Feyre says. The old upstairs brain. Remember that guy?
Rhys laughs. He is always in awe of how quickly Feyre calms him down. I thought you liked my downstairs brain, he says in his midnight voice.
Use your upstairs brain to get me through the wards, and I'll show you how much I like your downstairs brain.
And that is more than motivation enough.
Rhys gets up off the couch, and paces around the room again. My dad has always been lazy with spells, he says. He relies on his brute strength, and on everyone being afraid of him more than anything else.
Okay, Feyre says, picking up his train of thought. So... what if there's a weakness in his wards?
A chink in the wall, Rhys agrees.
Yes.
Rhys stands still, and reaches out his mind. Probes against the wards surrounding the cabin, and is aware of Feyre doing the same on the other side. They work their way right around the cabin, when finally, Feyre breathes, here.
And then Rhys gathers every bit of power he has in him, and pushes it all against that one spot. Reaches through it, throws everything he's got until his hand is breaking through, Feyre's grabbing a hold of him, they're folding space and he pulls.
There's a shudder that runs through the cabin, and then an extremely naked Feyre falls right into Rhys's chest and they collapse on the thick carpet together.
For a second, they just blink at each other in surprise.
"It worked," says Feyre. And then Rhys realises holy shit it worked, and smoothly rolls so that Feyre is on her back and he is all over her.
"Great work," is all he says, and then he blinks and his clothes vanish too so they are both naked and the heat of her against his bare cock is absolutely unbearable. He groans, slides his hand under one of her thighs, squeezing gently, and hooks it over his elbow before pushing straight into her, unable to stand not being inside her for one more second.
Feyre moans and lifts her hips to him, barely less eager. Rhys wonders idly if the age of fighting and fucking applies to females, and then as Feyre's nails scratch angry red lines over his shoulders he thinks it might just. He wonders how long this age will go on for, and if his desperate need for Feyre will ever abate. He hopes it doesn't.
"I thought you were going to be slow," Feyre says, breathless but with the most gorgeous light dancing in her eyes. Rhys's body screeches at him but he manages to get control of his movements. To move in and out of her languidly, lazily, tortuously slow. Feyre seems to enjoy it at first, keeps her eyes on his until they're rolling back in her head.
But the longer it goes on the more sensitive she becomes, until she is writhing in his arms seeking more friction, and every time he hits his base she jolts like she's being electrified. The fact that he is tormenting himself, too, seems absolutely worth it for the knowledge that he alone can wring this kind of pleasure from her.
"Still rather play by yourself?" he teases. "Does it feel like this when it's just your own fingers?"
Feyre snaps her eyes open at this, and between jagged breaths, teases him right back.
"Sometimes," she says. "When I'm touching myself and picturing you." A shiver runs through Rhys. "When I've got one hand between my legs and the other squeezing my breast." She demonstrates the last, and Rhys watches with hunger as her hand goes over her own chest.
"Fuck," he bites out, and picks up the pace a little.
"When I've got you curled around my mind and showing me that you're touching yourself too."
Rhys speeds up again.
"But mostly, no," she says, barely able to speak now. "No, nothing feels as good as when you're fucking me senseless."
And Rhys can't argue with that. He forgets his self-control completely and loses himself in her, in her body, in the intoxication of the sounds that she makes when he's inside her. The irony of his sentence to a remote location is that for once, they are able to make as much noise as they want and every time Feyre moans Rhys thinks he gets a little high.
By the time Rhys is close, they have started to breathe in tandem, and he locks his eyes on hers so that seconds later they are coming together. Rhys is breathless with the beauty of her, has always loved the look on her face when she climaxes, and suddenly the prospect of being locked up alone for three days seems mighty appealing.
Feyre sighs, eyes closed and chest moving deeply as she gets her breath back. Rhys draws out of her and then immediately misses her. He kisses her cheeks, her nipples, her stomach, and then without really thinking about it, closes his mouth around her clit and strokes it back and forth with his tongue.
Feyre sighs his name, and the sound of it is so sweet that he redoubles his efforts, until Feyre is rocking her hips to him and before he knows it, they're starting again.
Rhys thinks its going to be a very good three days indeed.
**** Little babies. Sigh I do love them so. Thank you my sweet anon for this lovely prompt.
Bonus: click here to see what Rhys's dark powers look like when they're still growing and trying to figure their shit out.
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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mmvalentine · 13 days ago
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Afraid of the Dark pt 4 | Feysand
Prompt fill: “Feysand as werewolves.” Read part 1 part 2 part 3. Smut time!
Feyre opened her eyes and blinked. Four pairs of eyes stared back at her, until Rhys's voice from somewhere far off said, "Guys give her some space." And then they retreated.
"Rhys?"
"I'm here, darling," he said, sidling up next to her. She looked around, and found herself in Rhys's bed. As if she had woken from a nightmare and everything was alright.
"What happened?" she asked, and tried to sit up. But there was a sharp pain in her side, and then Rhys's crew were rushing forward again.
"She's fine," he said, shooing them back off. And then, more gently, "You're fine," to Feyre.
"What happened?" Feyre asked again. "I remember..." her eyes went wide. "I was shot," she said. She looked to Rhys for confirmation.
"Well," Rhys said wryly, "the good news is that you're alive and you're safe now."
"The great news," Mor piped up, "is that you're one of us now!"
Rhys rolled his eyes, then nodded, and the lot of them jumped back into bed with her.
"One of... you?"
"Welcome to the wolf pack, little sister!" Cassian said, grinning broadly. He and Mor both flung their arms around her, and she grimaced with pain. They backed off.
"I'm... I'm a werewolf?" she asked.
"It was the only way to save your life," Amren supplied.
"It's not so bad," Azriel said softly. "It's not like in the story books. Full moon, being chained up in the basement.... nothing like that."
"I'm a werewolf?" Feyre gaped.
Now they all looked nervous.
"I'm sorry," Rhys said quietly. "I didn't have much time, you were bleeding so much. I would have had a longer conversation, I would have given you time to think about it..."
"That is amazing," Feyre interrupted him. "I get to stop being a person and be a wolf when I feel like it?"
Relief flooded over everyone's faces, and they started grinning at her, and rubbing her limbs, and patting her hair. She looked at Rhys.
"That... about sums it up," he said, and then she grabbed him and kissed him right on the mouth. Rhys made a surprised, strangled sound, and Feyre let him go. His crew- his pack, she realised then, howled with laughter. Until Rhys ordered them all out.
They glowered and snapped at him, but listened. "Get some rest," Mor said to her with a squeeze of her foot. Feyre wondered if Rhys was the leader of the pack, or whether they just happened to be in Rhys's house.
"I'm sorry," Feyre said as they filed out. "I... I didn't mean to kiss you like that, I just got excited."
But Rhys was looking at her with an expression that she could have sworn she only saw on him when he wasn't human. "Do it again," he whispered. And so Feyre put one hand shyly against his chest and then pressed her lips very gently against his.
Went to move away, but Rhys crooked a finger under her chin and brought her back. Kissed her again and chuckled softly when a brush of his tongue had her moaning against his mouth. He pulled back, and she frowned.
"Easy," he muttered. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I don't want you to stop," Feyre said.
"No dummy, your injuries."
"Oh." Feyre looked down. She was bandaged up, and when she moved it did in fact hurt. She looked at him. "I think I could still take you."
Rhys laughed. "Oh yes, I think you're going to be just fine."
She paused. "And... I can turn into a wolf now? Just like you?"
Rhys kissed her forehead. "You will be able to. You have to heal first. And then I'll show you how to do it."
"And Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren? They're all wolves too?"
"They are," Rhys said, amusement in his voice.
"Is it.. is it difficult?"
More amusement. "No," he told her. "It's the most natural thing in the world. It's like walking, and then running." Feyre nodded.
"And I heal fast?"
"Yes, we heal faster than humans. Wouldn't recommend getting shot again, though."
"So I'll be better in no time," Feyre said. "I think I already feel better."
"Yeah, not that fast."
"I don't know," Feyre said, running her hand up Rhys's chest. "I'm feeling pretty good." Leaned closer, and looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
"Feyre..." Rhys said, and the word was a warning. Feyre ignored it. Moved her hand under his shirt and slid her nose under his chin. A growl started low in his chest, and Feyre kissed his adam's apple where it vibrated just under his skin. Touched her tongue to his throat, before Rhys snapped and suddenly there he was.
Mouth on her mouth, hands at her back, legs tangling between hers, dragging her down to lie under him. Everywhere, he was everywhere. And Feyre couldn't get enough of him.
There was a slight pain where the pressure tugged against her bullet wound, but Feyre didn't mind in the slightest. Hauled him harder against her, if anything, and as they pushed and pulled against each other, she found she was stronger than she remembered.
She lifted her knees against Rhys's sides, trying to get more friction where she suddenly needed it more than air. Rhys slipped a hand between them, but she needed much, much more than that.
Feyre's hands grabbed at Rhys's waistband and yanked his pants over his hips. He lifted off her just enough to help her, and then was right back on her, pushing her shirt up and putting his mouth on her breasts, his teeth on her nipples.
And then they were shedding their clothes and skin was sliding on skin, and when she scratched her nails down Rhys's back and he shuddered hard against her, she was vaguely aware that her nails had hardened into claw tips and she was close to drawing blood.
It drove Rhys wild.
Now his teeth were moving on her neck, and she was reaching between them to put him right where she wanted him, and then they were gasping together as Rhys got the first inch of himself inside her.
For a second, the frenzy stopped. They just stared at each other, in utter bewilderment as if wondering how exactly they got here. Then Rhys leaned forward and kissed her, with surprising tenderness. He pulled out, then pushed back in another inch, without moving his mouth from hers. Did it again, and a whimper escaped Feyre. Did it again, and she bit down hard on his lip and then he was sinking all the way into her and they finally broke apart as he moaned and she breathed through her nose as she adjusted to the fullness of him.
"Fuck," Rhys swore. And then he started moving again, and Feyre had no recollection of the pain in her ribs, because all she knew was Rhys and all she felt was searing pleasure.
"Harder," she breathed. Not because she wasn't already brimming over with sensation, but because she knew Rhys was watching the bandage over her torso. Knew he was holding back.
Rhys's hips bumped forward at her command, and he leaned his forearms down on either side of her face. Picked up his pace a little. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice strained. Feyre shook her head.
"Want more," she said, and pulled her fingers through his hair. His soft, beautiful hair. Rhys's eyes rolled a little, and he sped up again.
"Like this?" he asked. Feyre's back arched up to him, and he kissed across her breasts. Up her throat.
"Want everything," she told him, breathless. "Give me everything."
And so Rhys did. Held his teeth on her neck and fucked her hard and fast until her moans choked off into silent sobs, and she was coming with her hands fisted in the curls of his hair. And only after she was wrung out, and spasming on the bed did he come too, knocking the air out of her lungs and causing deep shivers to roll through Feyre's body like a tide.
"I told you," Feyre said, when they were lying there half-asleep.
"Told me what?" Rhys murmured.
"Told you I was better." Rhys chuckled, and Feyre nibbled on his shoulder. "Tomorrow you're showing me how to shapeshift."
"Fine," he said. "Tomorrow."
In the end, he was right. It was easy, like running, like breathing. It took Feyre all of three days to be well enough to shift regularly, and then she was running with Rhys's pack through the forest, up into the mountains, and far, far away from everything and everyone else.
For three days they travelled, shifting in and out of their wolf forms. They slept in caves, in piles, and Feyre realised that she'd never be cold again. She had a fur coat. She'd never be hungry again, she could hunt rabbits. She'd ever be alone again, she had a family.
And in the middle of the night, in the dark, when everyone else was sleeping, she and Rhys shifted back into their human forms, snuck off to a clearing some distance away, and made love under the full moon with their animals shifting just below the surface of their skin.
****
The end! Oh that was SO much fun, thank you nonnie xxx
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars
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a-courtofdreams · 14 days ago
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Invisible Thread | Feysand Urban Fantasy AU | Part 5
Read More Here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist
18+ Contains Smut
Feyre
What if I don’t want you to stop?
Rhys stilled at her words and lifted his head to look at her. “Feyre, are you sure?” he asked as his eyes searched hers before dropping to her neck again. “You want–”
“All of you.” she said firmly, sensing his hesitation. Feyre lifted her hand to trace his lips with her finger, pricking the tip of his exposed fang. “I want all of you, Rhys.” she whispered.
“Wrap your arms around my neck.” Rhys growled. Feyre did as he asked and had barely blinked before they were in a large bedroom. Courtesy of his vampire speed, Rhys had moved them from the couch to the edge of a large four poster bed. “I refuse to let the first time I fuck you be on a couch.” he explained. “I need plenty of room to worship your body appropriately.”
Feyre’s cheeks heated at his words, but her body responded enthusiastically, liking the idea of being worshipped by Rhys. “Shirt. Off. Now.” she demanded breathlessly as she unwound her legs from his waist.
Rhys tore off his shirt and Feyre marveled at the sight of his bare chest. She’d envisioned what Rhys’s body looked like underneath of his clothes a million times, but Goddess, shirtless Rhys was even better in reality. Feyre had been prepared for the sight of his bronzed skin and muscular physique, but what she hadn’t expected were the swirling tattoos scrawled across his entire upper torso. Mesmerizing tendrils of black ink were intricately placed along his chest, shoulders, and upper arms. The designs reminded her of his magic and Feyre couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Rhys’s head fell back as she traced a few of the lines with her fingers, mimicking the swirling patterns. “These are stunning.” she whispered.
“Your turn, Feyre darling.” Rhys said as he reached around her to slowly unzip the jumpsuit. As the soft fabric fell to the floor and pooled at her feet, Feyre was left in nothing but her strapless black bra and lacy black panties. Rhys raked a hand across his face as he stared at her. So, maybe she’d also been thinking about him when she’d selected the matching black undergarments this evening.
Rhys dropped to his knees in front of her and Feyre had a feeling this image of the city’s most powerful vampire kneeling before her would be etched into her brain for a very long time. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Feyre.” Rhys said, his voice rough and low. 
“And as much as I love these black undergarments…” Feyre’s breath hitched as he planted a kiss across her lower abdomen, over her hip bone before moving lower. “They’re an obstacle I’m going to have to remove.” Rhys slowly slipped Feyre’s panties down, kissing every inch of skin he bared.
Rhys hooked one of her knees over his shoulder and then she felt it, the flick of his tongue between her legs. Feyre moaned unashamedly and gripped his shoulder, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Surely it must because she felt as though she would die if Rhys stopped touching her.
Rhys licked expertly at her center and Feyre’s legs started to give out, but Rhys gripped her hips firmly to hold her in place. He pinned her with his violet gaze and one more determined flick of his tongue sent Feyre over the edge. She came so hard she saw stars.
Rhys slowly removed his mouth from her and eased up until he towered over her once more. Feyre reached for his face and pulled him down for a kiss that signaled every bit of pent-up passion she felt for him. “Oh my Goddess.” Feyre panted as she pulled away.
“We aren’t done yet, Feyre darling.” Rhys grinned as he gripped her hips and tossed her backwards onto the bed. Feyre landed with a bounce and a laugh as she unhooked her bra, baring her breasts to Rhys. His gaze was riveted to her as he started to remove his pants and Feyre found that she couldn’t look away from him either. Her eyes tracked every motion of his hands as he pushed down his pants to reveal even more of himself to her gaze. Feyre sucked in a breath at the sight of his member, already at attention and ready for her. “I told you I look especially great nude.” Rhys said with a wink. Feyre rolled her eyes playfully but it was so true.
The fire raged in his eyes as he crawled up the bed, leaving a trail of kisses across her body as he went. Feyre instinctively spread her legs as he settled over top of her, an arm braced on either side of her head to keep his full weight off of her. Rhys gave her a wicked grin as he rotated his hips, causing a delicious friction against her center. “Rhys, I–” 
“You what, Feyre?”
“I need you.” she whispered. She needed more of him, all of him, every inch of him.
Rhys pressed his forehead to hers and his wings snapped out to their full length before draping down to envelop them. “I need you too. You’ll never know how much.”
Feyre cried out as he thrust into her, not from pain, but from the overwhelming sensation of finally having him inside of her. Nothing had ever felt so…so right. Rhys, however, immediately stilled at her cry. “Cauldron, Feyre, tell me I didn’t hurt you.” he gritted out.
“Goddess, no, you didn’t hurt me.” To show him she meant it, Feyre wriggled her hips, desperately searching for the pleasure she’d felt just a moment ago.
“Fuck.” Rhys whispered as he started to move again, faster this time. His hands were all over her body, paying special attention to her exposed breasts as he thrust deeper and deeper. “You’re so godsdamn beautiful.” he rasped.
Feyre’s heart soared at his words and beat so fast she was sure it would jump right out of her chest. Then there was a strange tightening; a warm, full sensation from within her very being. Suddenly she could feel Rhys, not just physically, but on a much deeper level. Goddess, she’d never felt anything like it. Did he feel it too?
Rhys paused suddenly and Feyre looked up to find his gaze trained on her neck. As his eyes flashed red, Feyre realized what he needed. She pulled her hair to the side and arched her neck to give Rhys full access. His gaze shot to hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. He wouldn’t find it. “Rhys, please.” she panted. Then he moved.
Feyre cried out as his fangs pierced her skin. There was a brief moment of pain, but then there was only euphoria. Rhys thrust impossibly deeper into her as his fangs pulled at her neck and the combined sensation sent Feyre over the edge yet again. She came with his name on her lips and not two seconds later, Rhys threw his head back and roared through his own release.
As soon as her climax ceased, Rhys banded his arms around her and rolled them so that his body was positioned beneath her. Feyre collapsed onto his heaving chest and let out a small laugh of disbelief. “That was–”
“Earth-shattering? Mind-blowing? Life-altering?” Rhys teased even as he blew out a shaky breath.
“All of the above.” And it was true. It sounded so cliché, but Feyre felt changed somehow.
Rhys hooked one finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. Rhys was always heartbreakingly handsome, but post-sex Rhys was on another level entirely. His black hair was disheveled, his violet eyes were hooded, and Feyre decided that she loved this unguarded, unpolished side of Rhys. “You’re incredible, Feyre.”
“You’re okay I guess.”
“Oh, just okay, huh? Maybe I need to provide another demonstration of my superior sexual prowess.” Rhys rasped as his hands drifted over the dip of her waist and along her ribcage. The lightest brush of his fingers against her breast was all it took for Feyre to fall headfirst back into a blissful state of arousal.
Rhys
As the moon rose and painted the room in a silvery glow, Rhys realized he’d never felt so at peace. He’d enjoyed Feyre two more times throughout the day, had made her scream his name to the four winds before she’d fallen asleep in his arms. Rhys had followed her into one of the deepest sleeps of his life and awoke to find Feyre sprawled across his chest; a sight he’d waited centuries to see.
Rhys brushed Feyre’s hair to the side to reveal his twin bite marks on her neck. She’d enjoyed his bite, almost as much as he’d enjoyed giving it to her, and Cauldron, her blood was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Something had shifted between them last night. Not only had Feyre given him the most mind-blowing sex of his life, but Rhys swore he could feel Feyre inside of him, as if she’d somehow given him a small part of her soul.
Feyre stirred as he trailed his fingers along her soft skin. She lifted her head off of his chest a few moments later and looked up at him in wonder, almost as if she’d expected him not to be there.
“Good evening, Feyre darling.” he said, brushing a thumb across her cheek.
“Hi.” she whispered, offering him the sweetest smile.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have in a long time.” she said quietly, echoing his earlier thought. It was because they were mates…Feyre just didn’t know that yet. He had to tell her, needed to tell her, but how would she react? Would she understand or run for the hills at the thought of being trapped by another man?
Feyre sat up to stretch, giving Rhys another glimpse of the glorious tattoo along her spine. As if drawn to it, he traced his fingers along it and Feyre shivered slightly, turning to look at him over her shoulder.
“Your tattoo is exquisite.” he said.
A hint of sadness filled her eyes at his words, the same look he’d seen cross her face whenever someone mentioned her magic. “Do you know what it means?” she asked.
Rhys nodded. “I’ve only met one other witch with a tattoo like yours. She was a Lunar Witch.”
“They say I’m the first Lunar Witch in decades. I got the focusing spell inked when I was sixteen.”
Rhys still didn’t know exactly what Feyre was capable of. He’d seen her use magic that night in Velaris, but not once since then. Rhys had tried to broach the subject multiple times, but Feyre always veered the conversation away from her powers. “Will you tell me about your magic?” Rhys asked.
To his surprise, Feyre nodded. “I was blessed by the moon goddess, Selene, at birth with the powers of an elemental. Not just one element, but all four. Water is by far my strongest, I’ve always figured because the nature of the element is so closely tied to the moon, but I can influence the other three elements as well. I studied for years to hone the elemental craft.”
“Can you harness moon magic?” Rhys asked before he could stop himself. He still hadn’t told Feyre of his suspicions regarding Tamlin’s intentions.
“Yes, but it’s not easy. Moon magic is unpredictable at best which is why most Lunar Witches get the focusing spell. The spell used to help me zero in on which powers I wanted to access, but now…I can’t access anything. I haven’t been able to use my powers since the night I left Tamlin.” she said quietly.
Rhys practically saw red at the mention of the shifter’s name, but he tried to temper his reaction and focus on Feyre. “What happened?”
Feyre shrugged. “I was enraged when he locked me in that room and my powers overwhelmed me. Pipes burst all over the mansion, vines grew through the floorboards, wind blew out every window, and fire engulfed half the mansion. All four elements responded to my cry for help and left the estate in ruins. I had no control over my powers; they controlled me. And then they abandoned me.” Feyre turned to him then, pinning him with those grey-blue eyes of hers. “Have you ever heard of anything like that?”
“I haven’t.” Rhys shook his head as he tried to digest what she’d just told him. “But you’re goddess-blessed. Magic is always tied to emotions and intent, but it’s possible your magic has a different set of conditions.” For her powers to have come to her aid of their own accord meant that Feyre was indeed very powerful, but he had no idea why her powers would have dissipated afterward.
“We’ll figure it out, Feyre.” he said, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.
“We?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Yes. We can figure it out. Together.”
Feyre blinked a few times before she gripped his face with both hands and kissed him soundly. Rhys moaned at the feel of her mouth against his and he quickly snagged Feyre around the waist, pulling her beneath him once more. He just couldn’t get enough of Feyre, couldn’t get enough of his mate. It felt as if he’d never be able to kiss her enough or hold her close enough, but Cauldron be damned if he wouldn’t try.
Rhys kissed his way down the column of her throat then moved lower to plant a kiss along her collar bone and across the top of her breast. Her small, lust-filled moan drove him mad and he was about to yank the sheet away to bare Feyre’s beautiful body to him again when a shrill sound filled the room. Rhys groaned at the sound of his phone ringing. “Maybe if I don’t answer they’ll go away.” he mumbled against Feyre’s skin, drawing a laugh from her. The phone stopped ringing and there was a heartbeat of blissful silence before it started again. He’d told his brothers not to disturb him unless it was important.
Rhys reluctantly untangled himself from Feyre with a quick kiss to her forehead. “Don’t move.” he grinned, never taking his eyes off of her even as he answered the phone.
“This had better be important.” he drawled into the phone.
“Sorry to bother you, brother, but we have a situation.” Rhys heard Cassian’s voice on the other end but could scarcely focus on a word his brother said when Feyre bit her bottom lip and removed one long leg from beneath the covers just to tempt him. Cauldron, she really would be the death of him.
“Keir is demanding an audience and will only speak to you.” That got Rhys’s attention. Keir hated Rhys and was normally much happier to deal with Mor. Cassian continued, “We told him you were indisposed, and he threatened to pull his funding if you didn’t speak to him right away.”
“Did he say what he wanted to discuss?”
“No. Said he’d only talk to you.”
Rhys sighed, “Okay, we can be back to the city in the next thirty minutes, then I’ll leave for Keir’s.” Rhys hung up the phone and turned back to Feyre who sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Looks like we’re going back to the city a little earlier than I’d planned.”
“Is everything okay?” Feyre asked.
Rhys nodded. “Just a difficult client. Mor’s father actually. He’s a bastard, but a rich one who funds part of our operations. He doesn’t like me much and normally deals with Mor directly, but now he’s requesting an audience with me.”
Recognition flared in her eyes. “Keir is Mor’s father?”
“You know him?” Rhys asked.
Feyre shrugged. “He and Tamlin had a few business meetings at one point in time.” Something tugged at the back of Rhys’s mind, as if this information was somehow important, but then Feyre continued. “I met him once, and that was enough for me.”
Rhys snorted. “Sounds about right. Unfortunately, I need to deal with him, and I was hoping you’d accompany me back to my townhouse in the city. The meeting should only take an hour or two.”
Feyre paused for a moment. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to drop me off at home? I don’t want to be in the way of your business.” Rhys almost scoffed until he realized why Feyre would think such a ludicrous thing. Rhys really should have killed Tamlin.
“I’d prefer to drop you back into bed and explore every inch of your body.” Rhys growled. Feyre flushed under his gaze and, Cauldron, what he wouldn’t give for just one more hour alone with her. “But since I can’t do that, yes, I’d like for you to come with me.”
“Okay.” she smiled.
Rhys was able to find Feyre an old sweater of his to wear and a pair of Mor’s leggings so that she wouldn’t have to put on her same outfit from last night.
“I thought we could winnow.” Rhys said as he finished adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I would’ve winnowed last night but winnowing a passenger can be a bit…disorienting.” That was putting it mildly. The first time he’d winnowed Cassian, he nearly threw up all over Rhys.
“I’ve always wanted to winnow!” Feyre exclaimed as she pulled her braid over one shoulder to effectively hide his bite. Rhys understood why she wanted to hide the bite, but the irrational side of him wanted to make sure the entire world could see his mark on her. He wanted every male within a mile of Feyre to know that she was his.
Except…she wasn’t. No matter how much Rhys already thought of Feyre as his, she belonged to herself and Rhys would consider himself lucky to even be a small part of her life.
Once they were both ready, Rhys took hold of Feyre’s hand and felt a small spark of electricity pass between them. It was their bond. Had she felt it too? “Hold on tight and don’t let go. No matter what.” Rhys whispered as he called on his magic.
Feyre
Feyre focused on the feel of Rhys’s hand wrapped tightly around hers as they were enveloped by a swirl of darkness and stars. She couldn’t see Rhys, could only feel him as the world turned upside down and righted itself again in a matter of moments; a motion Feyre’s stomach decided to replicate. As the darkness gave way to new surroundings, Feyre was hit with a profound wave of nausea. The room spun a bit and she gripped Rhys’s arm to center herself.
“Are you alright?” Rhys chuckled.
“You weren’t kidding about it being disorienting.” Feyre mumbled. She still wasn’t certain she wouldn’t hurl. Once the nausea passed, Feyre realized they weren’t alone in what looked to be a surprisingly cozy living room. Cassian lounged on a plush sectional on the opposite side of the room and looked the picture of relaxation. He seemed completely unphased by their sudden appearance…until his eyes met Feyre’s. 
Cassian stiffened and Feyre realized why when she spotted the tops of Cassian’s massive wings over his shoulders. “Uhh, hey Feyre.” Cassian said slowly as his eyes shifted questioningly to Rhys.
“I know about the wings, Cassian.” Feyre said with a laugh.
“Thank the Cauldron.” Cassian muttered as he relaxed back into the couch.
“Are you okay to hang out here with Cassian while I meet Keir?” Rhys asked.
Feyre waved a hand through the air. “Of course.”
Rhys gave her a small smile and leaned down so that his lips were by her ear. “I’ll be back soon. Then we’ll finish what we started at the cabin.” His low, rumbled whisper sent shivers across her skin. He moved to pull away, but Feyre gripped the lapel of his jacket and pulled him back in. 
“I’ll be waiting.” she whispered. A wicked grin spread across his lips as he stepped back and winnowed away.
Feyre turned back to Cassian who stared at her with a knowing grin. She flushed when she realized he’d probably just heard everything they said. Damn vampire hearing. “So, what were you up to?” Feyre asked to get ahead of whatever smart comment she knew was coming.
Cassian shrugged. “It’s my day off and I was planning on vegging out in front of the tv. Wanna join?”
Feyre plopped down on the couch next to him in answer. “What are we watching?”
“Do you like horror movies?”
“Do you like breathing?”
“Finally! Another horror fan!” Cassian whooped, making Feyre laugh. “What are we feeling? Slasher? Found footage? Supernatural? Psychological?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her mischievously.
“Why limit ourselves when we can watch one of each?”
“I like the way you think.” Cassian grinned. “I’ll grab the popcorn. You pull up the movies.” He tossed her a remote before he made his way toward what Feyre assumed was the kitchen. She watched him leave, still captivated by the sight of massive, leathery wings trailing behind him. Would she ever get used to the sight of vampires with wings?
Feyre quickly pulled up the first movie and then rose to examine the space. The townhome was full of warm colors: oranges, tans, browns, golds. The decor was in complete opposition to what Feyre thought Rhys’s home would look like.
“This is a really nice townhome. It’s so cozy and so…”
“Unlike Rhys?” Cassian finished from the other room.
She’d expected something more modern and definitely more black, but the Italian country décor reflected everything Rhys made Feyre feel. Warm. Comfortable. At home. “I was going to say normal.” Feyre laughed.
“Definitely unlike Rhys.” Cassian teased as he appeared from around the corner, holding a giant bowl of popcorn.
It was true. Rhys was far from normal, but that was part of why she liked him so much. She liked spending time with Rhys, wanted to spend time with him. Rhys had only been gone a few minutes, but she craved his presence. That fact should scare her, but it didn’t. Feyre felt things for Rhys that she could scarcely comprehend, feelings far more powerful than anything she’d ever felt for Tamlin.
As Feyre settled into the couch next to Cassian to start their movie marathon, Feyre could only focus on one thought, one truth that she hadn’t acknowledged until now. Had…she somehow fallen in love with Rhys?  
Rhys
The Hewn Tower that housed Keir’s offices was impenetrable. No one can winnow in or out, so Rhys opted to fly in. He winnowed to a nearby rooftop and unfurled his wings to glide down to the terrace of Keir’s office suite. His uncle barely looked up from his laptop when Rhys touched down a few feet away. Keir was a sorcerer relation on his mother’s side, and was, unfortunately, one of the only people in the city who knew Rhys’s secret.
“Keir.” Rhys said by way of greeting. There was no need for niceties or formalities where his uncle was concerned. The things he’d put Mor through when she was younger were unforgivable.
“How nice of you to grace me with your presence, oh mighty High Lord.” 
Rhys bristled at Keir’s mocking tone. “Let’s make this quick, Keir.” he said, sinking into one of the plush office chairs on the opposite side of the table. “What was so important that you had to see me in person?”
Keir closed his laptop and stood to loosen the buttons on his suit jacket as he assessed Rhys. The look of disapproval on his face would make a lesser man cower, but not Rhys. Rhys cowered before no one.
“Can I get you a drink, Rhysand?” the man asked as he turned towards the bar trolley.
“No thanks. You wanted me to here to talk business that apparently couldn’t be discussed with any of my other associates. I’m here, so talk.”
“I hear you have a new consort.” Keir said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Rhys stiffened and Keir grinned, knowing he’d hit his mark. How did he know about Feyre? “I hardly see how that’s relevant.”
The other man shrugged and went back to pouring his drink. “I’m just a little surprised that you would want somebody’s leftovers, that’s all. Especially Tamlin Rose’s. Is she really so special? Or is this just about getting revenge on Tamlin and his family?”  
The mention of Tamlin jogged something in Rhys’s memory. Feyre had said Tamlin and Keir knew each other, that they’d had business dealings. Rhys hadn’t wanted to believe that his uncle would betray his secret, but it made too much sense now that he knew there was a connection. Rhys’s wings snapped to their full width as he stood and braced his hands on the table, fixing Keir with a vicious glare. “There is no urgent matter, is there you selfish bastard? You’re working with Tamlin, aren’t you? It was you who told him about the wings.”  
Keir stood his ground and glared at Rhys defiantly. “I was simply repaying a debt. Tamlin said he needed something he could use against you in order to get his fiancé back; the fiancé that you apparently stole from him.”
“Feyre isn’t a possession to be stolen.” Rhys sneered, but Keir continued.
“I hadn’t planned to give up your secret, nephew, but I was quite a few glasses of whiskey in when Tamlin coaxed that little tidbit of information out of me.”
“And he asked you to arrange this meeting to get me out of the way. What is he planning?”
Keir shrugged. “I couldn’t care less what happens to the little witch and neither should you. She seems like trouble. Let her be Tamlin’s problem.”
Rhys knew his eyes were blazing red and he was certain his real face showed through. “If she’s hurt, I will end you.” Rhys growled. Without another word, he strode through the balcony doors and launched into the air.
Rhys could barely think through the fear and rage pumping through his veins. He’d just shown Keir his weakness by responding so ferociously, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He never should have come; he should have listened to his instincts that had been screaming at him not to leave Feyre. Rhys trusted Cassian with his life and he certainly trusted him with Feyre’s, but the thought of her hurt or worse because of his mistake…
As soon as he was out of reach of Hewn Tower’s wards, Rhys winnowed to the townhouse only to find it empty. The tv was paused on a movie and there were various snack foods strewn about, but no sign of Feyre or Cassian. “Fuck.” Rhys tried to breath as he raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Where were they?
Rhys took to the skies again, desperate to find his mate when he felt a slight tug from within. The bond. Of course. After the night they’d shared, the bond between Rhys and Feyre was stronger than ever, so strong that he could practically see the thread that tethered their souls. Rhys could suddenly feel Feyre’s presence, even miles away in the city and it drew him towards her like a beacon.
Feyre
“I am dead serious.” Cassian exclaimed as Feyre fell into another bout of laughter. “They banned me from the Ocean District for life, just because I destroyed one little building! They have hundreds of buildings!”
“How did you destroy a whole building?” Feyre howled, wiping tears from her eyes. All she could picture was Cassian flying straight into the side of a tall skyscraper that cracked and crumbled on impact.
“Look, it’s not important how it happened. I’m talking about the completely unfair punishment they gave me for it! I loved the Ocean District. I look absolutely incredible in a swimsuit.”
Feyre really enjoyed Cassian’s company. She liked his easy-going nature, and he was honest to a fault, a quality she found really endearing after all of the lies and secrets she’d been subject to during her time with Tamlin.  
They’d watched one and a half movies until Feyre’s stomach started growling. There wasn’t any food in the house, so she and Cassian decided to walk to a nearby Chinese place for takeout. He claimed they had the best lo mein in the city which sounded like heaven to Feyre. 
They were only about a block or so away when two hooded men emerged from the alley to their left. Feyre came to a halt, but Cassian brushed past her, positioning himself in front of her. A glint of silver caught her eye as Cassian discreetly palmed two daggers that she hadn’t realized he had. “Excuse us gentlemen.” he said coolly, giving the men a chance to move. Feyre had to peek around Cassian’s massive frame to see whether the men cooperated. They didn’t. “I won’t ask you nicely again.” Cassian warned.
“You can call off your dog, Feyre. My orders aren’t to cause you any harm.” said a familiar voice to their left. Feyre tensed as another figure stepped out of the shadows, this time it was a man she knew.
“Lucien? What are you doing here?” she asked cautiously. Lucien was Tamlin’s best friend and right-hand man.
“I could ask you the same thing.” he said with a tilt of his head. Lucien’s long red hair was pulled back from his face, revealing the scar on the left side of his face. A vicious attack had left the fox shifter without an eye. Now he bore one russet metal replacement eye and one golden eye.
“It’s none of your business.” Cassian snarled.
“So.” Lucien’s tone dripped with disdain. “You’re letting a low-born bastard play bodyguard for you now?” 
Rage exploded within Feyre and she sidestepped Cassian before he could stop her. “How dare you speak to him like that.” she sneered.
“What are you doing here, Feyre? Tamlin has been worried sick about you.”
“Oh yeah, he’s so worried about my well-being that he decided to throw me off of a building on a whim.”
Lucien visibly stiffened. Apparently, he hadn’t known about last night’s incident. Interesting. Maybe Tamlin was keeping secrets from even his closest confidants now.
“He sent me here to bring you home.”
“Home? That place is not my home.”
“It was once, and it could be again Feyre. I think with a little bit of time, you’ll see where Tamlin is coming from.”
Cassian snorted behind her. “As if anyone could relate to the madness that Tamlin Rose is spewing these days.”
“Nobody asked you.” Lucien snapped, as one of his eyes flashed. “I can’t go back to the estate without you, Feyre.”
“Then maybe you should go to hell instead and take Tamlin with you because I’m not going anywhere with you.” The two men flanking Lucien began to move towards them. Cassian was in front of Feyre again before she was even aware that he’d moved.
“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.” Cassian snarled.
Suddenly night exploded around them, blocking the two hooded men from view. Lucien gaped at the sudden display and Feyre felt a familiar presence at her back. She didn’t have to turn to know that Rhys was there. “Feyre, darling.” he said from behind her as he laced his fingers with hers. Feyre could practically feel the rage rolling off of him, but Rhys stayed behind her and let her control the situation.
“This isn’t you, Feyre.” Lucien said, faltering slightly as he looked to Rhys over her shoulder.
“How would you know?” Feyre snapped. “You only knew the me that let Tamlin control her. I’m not that person anymore and I never will be again.”
It was as if those words unlocked something within Feyre. The air around them crackled with electricity and for the second time in as many days, Feyre felt her magic surge. Leftover rainwater rose from the concrete beneath their feet and swirled through the air, mixing with Rhys’s magic to create a barrier around their small group. She heard Rhys suck in a breath at the sight of her magic rearing to life, but Feyre didn’t dare take her eyes off of Lucien.
“Don’t come looking for me again, Lucien.” she warned. Rhys didn’t give the other man time to respond before he grabbed her and Cassian’s hands and quickly winnowed them back to the townhouse.
As soon as the townhouse came into view, Rhys dropped Cassian’s hand but kept hold of hers. “That fucking fox.” Cassian spat, a frown marring his features. “He must have been watching the building, waiting for us to leave. I’m sorry, Feyre, I should have thought before we left the townhouse.”
Feyre waved a had dismissively through the air. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Cassian.”
“I’m going to talk to Az. I want a look at the surveillance tapes from that alleyway.” Cassian said before striding from the room. As soon as he was gone, Rhys pulled Feyre into his arms and grinned down at her. “You used your magic tonight.” The sheer pride in his tone warmed her heart. “You looked truly goddess-blessed. It was incredibly sexy, Feyre darling.”
“Mm, maybe I’ll have to threaten people more often if it turns you on so much.”
“Promise?” Rhys teased as he led her over to the couch. Feyre was still trying to grasp the full reality of the situation at hand as Rhys sat them both down. Tamlin was coming after her. She’d hoped he would stop after everything she’d said on the roof, but it appeared he wasn’t ready to let her go, no matter what she wanted. Feyre needed her powers now more than ever and…that’s when a thought struck her.
She was goddess-blessed. The goddess had given Feyre her powers…maybe it would take a goddess to help her get them back. Rhys, I have an idea.”
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Whew these are some LONG chapters! Thank you all so much for reading.
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ratabrasileira · 14 days ago
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When The Mask Falls Out
OneShot
Trigger Warning: Depressive Thoughts.
Disclaimer: Characters belongs to Sarah J. Maas.
Summary: After having a nightmare, Rhysand needs to spit some things out and Feyre is there to listen to him.
It was late at night when Feyre woke up without the warm of her mate at the right side of the bed. She searched for any piece of him, but nothing was found. She didn’t get surprise for the absence of Rhysand there, after all the war that they passed, it was common to one of them, sometimes both, be awake at the nights.
The sound of the water made her open her eyes. The darkness was spreading to the room, softly as any plume. It didn’t seem angry or scared, it was tired, starless-tired.
Feyre got to her feet, following the bond to her mate. Thanks to Helion's gift, she was able to light the path to their room to the bathroom.
"Rhys?" He was lying in the bathtub, bubbles and bubbles surrounding him. The night wasn’t visible outside. They were the night.
"Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up" His countenance was so… broken.
"No, no, it’s ok.” Feyre said before sitting in the floor next to him. “What's going on?"
Rhysand didn’t answer immediately. He avoided to look at her, to look at anything.
“I dreamed with her” Feyre let him to continue. It was all about that, giving each other space.
"I..." He breathed; stopped for a second before the avalanche of feelings was spited out. "I just... I feel dirty, I'm dirty. I'm fucked up. Every day, I have to remember that it's done, we are in peace, but my brain can't realize that it's ok, so I constantly feel that something bad is going to happen and this scary me so much, Feyre."
He said with such pain that Feyre felt her throat tight and her eyes burn. She knew things weren’t all better. They had talked, a lot, mostly after Nyx’s birth. But still, she knew that Rhys was hiding his feelings; from their family, from her and even from him himself. She could feel that in the bond.
"And I screw up. I fucked up so many times with everyone, and it sucks because I just want you all safe." He kept, silver lines forming in his deep-blue eyes. "And sometimes... I'm this reality, dimension, that it's all a dream, so I have to back up to realize that it's real, it is all real and I'm not dreaming and I won't wake up by her side and pleasure her or kill for her. And every time that I remember about Under the Mountain I feel dirty, I feel… the need of clean myself because all the filth, all the blood, it just doesn’t go away. And I know, I know we have to live with it, but…"
Tears was rolling through Rhys’ cheek while he was catching his breath back. By that time, Feyre’s own cheeks were wet.
"I'm still young and scared of my powers, I'm still Under the Mountain, I'm still there when she killed you, I'm still in the war, in both wars, I'm still when... When you and Nyx..."
"I'm stil crucifying myself for what I did to you, Under the Mountain and… for hiding the pregnancy thing from you... I mean, you were right and I did that knowing how you would react and does it make me better than him?” Feyre knew exactly that him meant Tamlin. She knew he couldn’t stand to voice his name, no because of their enmity, but because what he meant for Feyre. ”I don't want to be like him, and don't want to be like my father either. I don't want you to hate me, and I know, we talked about it, but it still running in my head sometimes."
"And I'm tired. One day, I'm fine, but... Now? I'm tired of everything. 500 years being me and everything through what I passed for… It all get back in my head and I just feel overwhelmed. And it's silly, stupid, because I was supposed to live with it and I feel so weak. It wasn't to let me this way. But then, I keep thinking and thinking and it brings me to my mother and my sister and... I killed both. I can convince myself that I didn't, but I did, Feyre. I was stupid, dumb, and…”
“And I’m just tired.”
They remained in silence. There were so many words and so many more feelings. Feyre partly knew what was coming for, although she didn’t expect it to be like this.
Feyre entered in the bathtub still with her gown. Rhysand looked at her, scared, while shaking his head, but she just entered there and hugged him. Hugged him as strongly as she could while sending the starry night overcome the starless one.
"It's ok, my love." She whispered in his chest. "You can feel tired and overwhelmed once and I'll be here for you as you did for me when I felt the same. You gave so much, Rhys. So much. If things are down, I'll be here for you to handle things, ok?"
Rhysand held her tightly; his mate, his friend, his soul.
Feyre kept saying comfy things for Rhys until the true night was visible in the wide windows of the room. She was glad that he said it all: what it was still bothering him, which things would never go away. How broken they both could be, but together… Together both could repair the little pieces that belong to each other.
Because wherever and whenever they would go, they would go together.
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mmvalentine · 14 days ago
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Afraid of the Dark pt 3 | Feysand
Prompt fill: "Feysand as werewolves." Read part 1 part 2 part 4. CW: violence.
Feyre stayed five weeks with Rhys before Tamlin found her.
The first few days, she walked around like a ghost, and then she got very hard headed all of a sudden and decided that was enough and she was moving on with her life.
Rhys's crew visited every day, after that. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren. The people he always saw hanging around the bar with him, but had never talked to her as much as Rhys had. And they were so lovely.
In truth, Feyre was not entirely comfortable with it at first. Kept shrinking into Rhys's side, because him she knew but she couldn't fathom why the others were being so nice to her. But over the weeks, she came to crave their presence and delight in their warmth and their wickedness.
Feyre never went back to the house. She gave the key to Rhys's friends and they went during work hours to collect her things. And to leave the letter that she had written Tamlin, telling him that she was leaving him, and not to come look for her.
Somewhere in the second week she started sleeping in Rhys's bed. Just turned up one day, after lying awake yet again in the spare room and not knowing how to sleep alone, and crawled in next to him. He had wrapped his arms around her and gone straight back to sleep like they did this every day. And so they did.
And of course Feyre got to go back to Velaris. Still loved it there, and although Tamlin was sure to check there for her eventually, she felt safe being surrounded by people in leather jackets. One night, they stayed late after closing and Rhys had to carry her home. It was only wine-drunk that she was able to finally ask him.
"So," she said slowly, once he had gotten them both into bed. "You're a werewolf."
"Sometimes," Rhys responded, moving his head on the pillow.
"Not sometimes," Feyre argued. "You're either a werewolf or you're not."
"Well, sometimes I'm a werewolf, and sometimes I'm just Rhys."
"Okay just Rhys," Feyre said tipsily. "Well I liked you as Mr Wolf, too."
Rhys chuckled. "Well thanks."
"Can you be Mr Wolf some time again? I miss him."
Rhys looked at her strangely. "Why?"
"Because I could always tell him things."
"You can still tell me things."
Feyre frowned, and her eyes slid closed. "Not as many things," she said, and then fell asleep.
When she woke up, Rhys was a wolf.
He was curled up on the foot of the bed, and Feyre grinned broadly at him.
"Mr Wolf!" she said happily. She got up and patted his soft, black fur, and scratched his massive ears.
For a minute, Rhys just lifted his chin and enjoyed the scratches. Then he hopped off the bed, and looked back at Feyre with those endless violet eyes. She scrambled out of bed, and followed.
"Where are we going Mr Wolf?" she asked. She pulled her coat and shoes on. "Are we going for a walk? It's been a while."
Suddenly she was excited. She hadn't walked through the forest in some time, and she had never walked with the wolf in the day time.
"I've got so many things to tell you," she said.
So they walked.
The forest was different early in the morning. The fog was thick and everything smelled fresh, and green. Rhys let Feyre lead the way, padding along silently next to her.
"Well," Feyre started. "The big update I have for you is that I've left Tamlin. Didn't think I could ever do it, but here we are. And you know what?" She looked at Rhys, and grinned. "I think I'm actually happy." She laughed. "I didn't know I could be happy."
Feyre jumped down off a log, and Rhys landed right behind her. She kept walking. "Everyone's so nice to me. Most of the time I feel like I don't deserve it, but also I don't know what I'd do without them all."
She sat down on a large stone, and Rhys sat down next to her.
"And you," she said, stroking his head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Suddenly, Rhys went taut. He leapt in front of Feyre and started growling, teeth out and ears flat against his head.
"What's wrong?" Feyre breathed. She looked around, scanning wildly for the danger Rhys clearly could scent.
"Just stay still," came a voice. Feyre whipped her head toward it, and Tamlin stepped out of the forest with a shotgun on his shoulder.
"Stay very still, and it'll all be over," Tamlin said.
"No," Feyre breathed. "No Tamlin, don't."
"It's okay," Tamlin said, "I'm here to save you."
"Tamlin don't, it's not hurting me!"
"It's a wild animal, Feyre." He looked up at her then. "And where the hell have you been, anyway?"
Feyre lifted her chin. "It's not your concern anymore. We're no longer together."
"We're together until I say we're not," Tamlin snarled. "Now I'm going to put this thing down and then you're coming home with me."
Rhys was growling louder now, stepping toward Tamlin but also wary of the shot gun.
"No!" Feyre cried. "Okay. Okay look, I'll come home with you, just don't shoot the wolf."
"Like I give a fuck about what you want, or about some stupid mangy dog," Tamlin said, and then pulled the trigger.
Feyre dove.
Dove right into the path because she knew it was coming, knew Tamlin would always choose violence over negotiation especially when it meant giving up anything for Feyre. So she jumped, and collected the bullet somewhere against her ribcage and by the time she hit the ground Rhys had already lunged for Tamlin's throat.
She closed her eyes. Time seemed to speed up between blinking.
Opened her eyes and Rhys was human again, and Tamlin was lying somewhere further away and not moving. Closed her eyes.
Opened her eyes and she was in Rhys's lap, and he had taken off his jacket and t-shirt and was strips of the latter to bind her wound. Closed her eyes.
Opened her eyes and realised Rhys had been talking to her.
"Feyre," he was saying. "Feyre, Feyre why did you do that, fuck why Feyre? I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."
It's not your fault," she said to him. Her mouth felt like it was moving through treacle as she tried to talk.
"I told you you'd never have to worry about him again," Rhys said. "And I failed. We're going to get you to a hospital," he said.
But Feyre knew that the nearest hospital was miles away, there was no cell reception in the forest, and they were on foot.
"You know," Feyre said. "I don't mind dying."
"I mind," Rhys gritted out. "You aren't going to die today."
"I've just... not had that good a time being alive." She lifted a hand to his face, and it was red with blood. "Maybe it'd be different if I was like you. If I were you, I'd just be a wolf forever and ever and I'd live in the forest and be happy."
Rhys went still. "Would you?" he asked. "Would you be happy as a wolf? As a half thing?" Feyre smiled.
"Better half human than whole human, I reckon," she said.
"Alright," Rhys said. His throat was tight and his voice was hoarse. "I can make that happen."
"Make what happen?" Feyre asked, and then her eyes closed again and the pain stopped, and a peace spread through her belly. She didn't mind, truly. Didn't mind dying. The last thing she was conscious of was Rhys's lips on the join of her neck and shoulder.
Not his lips.
His teeth.
****
Did I just want to kill Tamlin off? Maybe.
Okay looks like it's 4 parts not 3 because ya gal CANNOT write concisely! One more, rascals xx
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