#muse: Rhysand

[gccdstories]

@siderealxmelody / *

Rhysand only stayed right where he was. The dark expression on his face as Yvette told him to move only grew, and he made no movement whatsoever to step back. If anything, the errant Night prince stepped closer. Just a bit.

❝ Even prudish females can be good for one thing or another, ❞ he whispered, lips barely inches from Yvette, his dark yet bloodshot eyes taking in her form. Yvette's scent didn't stir anything in him, but maybe that was only because nothing made him feel a damn thing anymore.

❝ You may not be good for much else, of course. Powerless little thing you are-- You're almost worthless, aren't you? Except for pleasing a male-- ❞

#siderealxmelody #muse ;; rhysand

[vaedar]

𝐎𝐎𝐂; Hello everyone! So I have been RPing on discord a bit, warming up and such, but I still have to come up with BG3 and Fourth Wing verses for Vaedar at some point.... Not sure yet what. I've been rereading CC and ACOTAR in preparation for CC3 also, which means I'll probably go back to @ofrhysand too or at least pop by. Maaaaaaybe do the same for @rhaegxr.... But anyways, hope you all been good and had a nice start of 2024! And if not, then may it take a turn for the better very soon!

#rereading cc reignited my love for ruhn and rereading acotar did the same for rhysand #not that it ever went away ofc but it was a refresher xD #and as for rhaegar i am rping a modern thing of him again on discord so... will see if that reignites the muse enough for the blog #i mean he always there just i as the mun need the motivation to make the time ( which is challenge enough for me with the kids ) #i just realized must do a google site for rhys....... welp #tati ooc

[bloodofthefates]

x. the thing no one asked for // inspired by @ircnwrought/@starseternelle & @nightstriumph

Though the summer equinox was the pride of Summer Court celebrations, all parts of Prythian took part in the dawning of the new season even if on a much smaller scale and the Night Court was no exception. Velaris itself was a living pulse at the center of it all, laughter and music as contagious as the company filling the winding streets of open shop and tavern doors. Various stalls had been set up and entire roadways closed down to allow for the installation of large gathering tables, food and drink flowing as freely as the friendly conversation that left no heart untouched. Nesta was not impervious to the magic of the city, having been dragged by a near begging Cassian who she was fairly certain had already made plans with Azriel and Mor before ever asking her to join along with them. She’d already made excuses to part ways, claiming to be off in search of Emerie and Gwyn but instead finding herself outside of the market square where gaggles of young fae ran the entire perimeter of the fountain in some make believe game and unhindered by any watchful parents’ eyes. Keeping her distance, Nesta watched from afar with some amusement until one tiny blurred projectile nearly ran right into her. Quick reflexes had her hands shooting out to catch and steady what she discovered was a little girl. A little girl with a crown of twisted wire and hand polished stones. So much care and detail had been crafted into the piece, a labor of true love and painstakingly placed between braided and curled strands of deep auburn hair piled high atop her head. Her dress was equally envious, jewel-toned layers of fabric expertly sewn to form fit the child’s smaller frame accentuated by a beadwork bodice of flowers and belt made of linked silver that alternated star and moon shapes clanging together musically every time she took off running after the other children. Feyre. The tiny spitting image of her younger sister came to a screeching halt in front of Nesta, huffing, puffing and armed with a paintbrush in hand and wielded it with all the ferocity of a weapon of the highest caliber. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy hue, bright blue eyes the color of the stones adorning her head lit up from equal exertion and excitement but widened when she realized who she’d nearly barreled into. Jaw dropping, the young girl sputtered for words as she tried to piece together coherent thought, soon flanked by two other members of her posse.

The raven-haired girl to the other’s left wore a long draping gown of pastel pink with white tulle overlay adorned with fresh florals of the summer blooms in every bright color. Atop her head was another equally beautiful crown, this one instead forged of yellow golden wire and more of the same flowers covering the skirts of her dress. Elain. The immediate recognition burgeoned warmth from within her chest, expanding beyond the capacity of her ribcage and causing something to catch in the back of her throat. They were perfect in every way, neither of them looked anything like her sisters from when they were younger and yet theirs were the only faces she could see staring back up at her and utterly awestruck.

“High Lady…Lady Elain.” Nesta greeted formally, dipping her head and offering an exaggerated bow of pure elegance to the leader of the little pack of Archerons in acknowledgment while attempting to hide her smile of pure mirth at the sight of the tiny versions of Elain and Feyre. “Your costumes are most fitting, I half expected the High Lord Rhysand to be trailing soon after.” Nesta laughed softly, a rare gift and true delight that had the children beaming up at her and hanging onto her every word that much more. She half hoped Rhys was somewhere near enough to hear her, never taking any chance to use him as her own personal punchline for granted even if in this particular circumstance, it was for a good cause.    

Only then did Nesta turn her head to notice the nearly white-haired girl flanking tiny Feyre’s right and catching her dead in her tracks. Her smile disappeared altogether, stunned into silence by the lack of elegant dress or fitted tiara nestled into perfectly styled hair. In place of tulle or chiffon there was only leather and steel, a smaller version of the exact fighting leathers she now wore accented by a toy stand-in for Ataraxia holstered at the younger girl’s side. A single plaited braid draped over one shoulder, more for practicality than aesthetic and there was no crown atop her head. Instead, there was a beautifully crafted mask covering the upper half of her face, enough to conceal her eyes and dip down over the bridge of her nose and tied at the back of her head with a single white ribbon that suddenly had her heart aching for Emerie or Gwyn to miraculously appear.

It was the smaller version of herself looking back to her, weighted with the highest expectation of seeking her approval but for once Nesta found herself at a complete loss for words. It took her a moment, the tension stretching on for too long as the girls began to shift on their toes with uneasiness before she moved to kneel down in front of the girl finding her courage to swallow back the tears she hadn’t been expecting. “Lady Nesta… it is an honor to serve you.” She greeted the younger spitting image of herself as she was now, not the ghost of the little girl she’d once been under her mother’s heavy thumb. Pulling the real Ataraxia from its sheath at her back, Nesta maneuvered the blade carefully in front of the girls with extra caution to keep them from being afraid as she turned the grip toward the tiny Nesta and offered it to her.

“Lady Death, a true Valkyrie warrior should have a go at a real sword, wouldn’t you say?” Nesta prodded gently, uncharacteristically soft as the younger girl’s trembling fingers reached out to trace along the hilt of the blade. “You can hold it.” She nodded her permission, watching the girl’s eyes light up as she took hold of the sword. She was barely able to lift it, but Nesta handled the brunt of the weight in the blade making it appear as if the little girl was the one doing the hard work all along. The moment was fleeting, but one Nesta knew she would treasure for years to come. Almost as quickly as she’d grabbed hold, the tiny Nesta had let go and earned a fit of giggles amongst her comrades as they thanked Nesta and took off running through the square, squealing their delight and telling anyone they came across that they were real Archeron sisters now.

Sucking in a deep breath as she stood, Nesta gave her sword a good practice swing earning several worried glances from those around her before she sheathed it at her back once more. “An honor to serve you indeed..” She whispered to herself, eyes darting around to ensure no one else had witnessed her moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability as she straightened her shoulders, happy to tuck away the memory of the little girls as younger versions of Feyre and Elain happier than they had been allowed in their childhood, the better versions of themselves now just as she had seen herself in the younger Nesta.

#ircnwrought #nightstriumph #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ musings ] #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] FEYRE ARCHERON #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] CASSIAN #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] RHYSAND #✲ NESTA ARCHERON [ dynamic ] ELAIN ARCHERON

[draconikia]

My Night Court Mayhem:

Rhysand is the son of Orpheus Altair and his mate. He has one sister, known ( and beloved ). He has one half sibling, (unknown relation but beloved). His extended family is relatively large but he mostly cares for his cousin Morrigan.

Growing up he was not truly a good fit for the highlord position he was born to fill. A child more interested in adventures, his sister, his mother, even books and sciences held more appeal than the court and the machinations and politics that his father forced him to study. Orpheus was not a good father, but he was also not an inherently bad man.

He was a man who had lost his beloved sister through chance of her own powers backfiring. (More on this at another time.) This bred in him a long held belief that he was best left unmated, and largely untied to anyone. He went centuries on his own simply ruling the court and managing its deep divisions to the best of his abilities. While visiting an Illyrian camp, he stayed with them overseeing miltary preparations and witnessing the structure and power dynamics of the court. This also allowed them to understand the full depth of their High Lord’s power.

While there Orpheus met a laundress, a beautiful woman, large, muscular, with dark chocolate eyes and an easy smile. Though her wings were clipped, she had nothing but good things to say about the changes he’d made in the court. That a woman so seemingly beneath him would deign to compliment him pleased him, though their relationship was short. It did result in a child. A son. More on this later x.

Not an active father, he was however not entirely neglectful. He came to see the child every few months and knew him in passing while he never admitted to his role as the boys parent. There was something wary in the child and he sometimes felt as if something unknowable rested within his gaze that followed him with far too much wisdom.

During one of of these visits, he was stopping at a camp midway between where the child lived and the House of Wind, something drawing him inexorably there. A woman surrounded by men, her wings held outstretched as she screamed and fought – her scent invaded his senses and without truly thinking… He reacted. The men fell to little more than pulp, the expanse of his explosive power leaving only she and he standing. That woman was his mate. From that instant on, he could do nothing but love her and give her all she could desire, which – included primarily, her freedom.

This did however lead to a change for his illegitimate son, the boy was taken to a Lord in the autumn court who owed him, a man with a number of sons. This home was selected due to the particular nature of his son’s scent, a smoky sort of undertone that to fae senses could be hidden here in the Autumn court. A scent that anywhere else, would lead them straight to him. With his daementi powers he tampered with the memories of all inhabitants and made them believe that the boy and his mother were always there, that the mother had been the laundress of the household for decades, and the boy the lord’s offspring. This plan was not without flaws, the primary one being that though the alteration of memories and minds was well within his grasp, the mind of youths is more resistant to manipulation. The brothers, while never quite remembering, never accepted the quiet dark eyed boy, and instead tormented him.

Years pass and Orpheus never seeks out his first son. Azriel Altair is raised in shadows.

Sometime in the interlude, he and his wife have their son. Rhysand. The heir he had never dared to imagine he could have. The boy would be moulded to perfection, he would be an effortless leader, he would be a just commander, he would be a powerful soldier. Combining the strength and fortitude of the High Lord with the unwavering strength and undaunting nature of his mate. With his focus on Rhysand, his mate took to her freedom well.

Taking their son with them as she would time to time revisit the camps from whence she’d originally come. Though as Rhsyand grew older, he remained more with his father and she roamed. When she fell pregnant with their second child, he never questioned the girl’s origin. Even as her scent marked her as someone elses. This was not his child. Yet in her violet eyes, Orpheus never found another who would look at him in that way.

Oh how he loved the daughter that by all rights was not his. And as she grew – he kept her closer. Even as his mate drifted further and further away. But what was love if not the desire to give all that they might wish? And what had she ever wished for but freedom?

When Rhysand was a pre-teen, she packed her bags, and took both children to the largest Illyrian encampment. Rhysand first met Cassian, the orphaned boy was brash and strong – but he was loyal once given reason to be. Orpheus couldn’t help but be pleased that his son could form bonds within the camps that so often resisted his own rule.

He was however, less than pleased – when letters from both children arrived mentioning a boy who’d been dropped there in the camp. Thin, malnourished, sickly, and pale – scarred from fire and nearly silent to all except the highlord’s daughter. Yet somehow this boy held his own against Rhysand and Cassian even as they’d spar and fight for resources.

The boy’s name was Azriel.

The first born son of Orpheus Altair, the son who shadows came to even as a boy. The first ShadowSinger born to their bloodline in over a thousand years. The boy whose powers and knowledge would rival even Orpheus’ if given half the chance. What knowledge was forbidden from a boy who conversed with the darkness itself?

Yet the boy became Rhysand’s friend. The trio completed.

Orpheus allowed them to compete in the Rite, allowed them friendships and celebrations. But when Azriel and Casssian came at last to Velaris, the knowing look of his mate revealed that… she had perhaps always known the origin of Azriel. And so he did the one thing he knew he must, he sent them away. All three boys parted.

Cassian would train to lead armies for Rhysand, and Azriel? He would become the weapon with which Rhysand could rule this court. Nightmares and dreamers, illyrians in camps and aristocrats beneath a mountain. If Rhysand did not have the stomach for blood, then let it be upon Azriel’s hands.

And perhaps, just perhaps – he thought to ensure the court would not choose the first son if he kept Azriel further from its heart. The boy was half darkness himself, with eyes that saw too much, lips that said not enough. There was a ruthlessness in him that even Orpheus did not wish to tap.

So the three were separated – and none knew their familial connections.

#azriel // headcanon #rhysand // headcanon #ooc** #DISCLAIMER :: obvs these only apply to MY muses that I write !!! otherwise they will be kept to the canon dynamics and relationships x

[alittlebitofmuse]

growls at rhysand

puts his hands in his pockets and smiles

#{;ooc?} #{muse; rhysand?} #{someone stop me--} #{becaUSE I CANNOT STOP MYSELF--}

[luxmaeastra]

Tisiphone grinned falling back on the bed with him. She curled into his arms looking to the windows and the breeze. The beautiful sunrise coming in. She leaned up to kiss him again, her heart beating faster as she felt her body warm.

"You're too charming for your own good. What will we be doing today my Dark Prince? That somehow doesn't involve doing actual work."

She really didn't mind, Amaya had given them this land. This beautiful place on the water with its own private island. She loved it, she adored the peace of it.

She knew Amaya would throw a fit if she found she was working anyway. After the war, after everything she'd been through...it was nice to be forced to take a vacation.

Maybe some would say that he was too charming, that the pair of them were so woven around each other. Not that it mattered, not that he cared. Rhysand smiled as he laid upon the bed with her, his fingers tracing down her side as he couldn't help but marvel at her within the light of the morning sun.

"Hmm, you make it sound like being too charming is a bad thing." He reached up, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger as he admired her more.

He supposed they should do something more than roll around in bed, maybe they should go out and do something. Being granted this luxury of a quiet home for themselves, his parents ensured they did not need to work after the war.

"We can go for a stroll, or we can go and sit on the water front...What would you like?"

#Muse | Rhysand

[drzxmlxnd]

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

@angxlsvxnom

#i would still be surprised i could find you darling in any life ( rhys ) #i will be chasing the starlight ( rhysand muse ) #Spotify

[luminescenc1e]

Whether it is decided by the Mother, or the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, he could not say. But the clash of swords and the grunts he can hear from the sparring in the camp lurches back to a time so very different. When he had been dropped off in the Illyrian camps by his mother, to either survive or end up like so many others did, he couldn't have envisioned what the future would bring. There is comfort now in the high arches of the mountains around him, there is peace in the constant violence that persists here. There is tranquility in the cold chilly air that cuts through the trees.

There is peace and pride that these places train the best and most ruthless soldiers and the fact that all of this exists and persists. There is comfort. They would return to Velaris soon enough, but he had a few moments to wander around, leaving the campsite and moving towards the narrow river running through the jagged rocks that could so easily be used as weapons.

He inhales, face upturned towards the blotches of pale blue between the trees, welcoming the familiarity of the open world, welcoming the coldness and the wind. It had been months since they had managed to escape under the mountain, but still, the stale air and the stench of the hallways lingered. He can feel HER hands on his skin, at times so vividly that he wants to tear at his clothes.

Nightmares like quicksand, swallow him before he manages to wake up. He stretched his wings, the feeling so freeing that it made him take a deep breath, they would fly back home, finally able to fly whenever he wanted to. But a strange sound, one that does not belong to these mountains makes him turn, darkness spilling from his body, eyes moving to the trees, to the camp, and then, to his left, a woman. One that he knows does not belong here. " Whoever sent you here, was not your friend. " There is a smile on his face, his tone of voice seems almost friendly, but the threat is obvious in the way he straightens up, one foot forward.

" Are you lost? "

plotted starter for @ircnwrought

#ircnwrought #v: under the mountain #MUSE : RHYSAND #WORLD : A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

[no-more-tales-tavern]

"Drunk on Lust: 7C After Vax had turned down Keyleth's offer, Rhysand was more than happy to show the Druid just how wild things could get on the dance floor and in the bedroom. (@heroes-den)"

Drunk on Lust: 7C

The loud and boisterous laughter and singing from the Herd of Storms and the survivors of Westrun carried high into the night, the celebrations only getting more raucous and rowdy as the night went on and the drinks poured freely. The songs grew crasser and the singers grew louder, and all in the main foyer of the city hall cheered and sang, not a care in the world.

With all the songs and sounds, anyone below would be hard pressed to notice the passionate moans from the bedroom just overhead.

Keyleth gasped as she dropped onto the bed, her heart racing and pounding in her chest as she felt the steady smack of hips against her ass. She groaned, gripping the sheets tight, before sighing as she felt her companion's arms wrap around her slender form, and his long and thick tail curl around her waist and pull her back against him, hard.

"Not dropping out on me yet, are ya, pretty girl~?" the blue-skinned tiefling chuckled into her ear, his lips brushing teasingly along her pointed elven ear.

Keyleth shuddered at his words, but bit her lip, arching her head back to rest on his shoulder and tilt her gaze up to stare into his glowing golden eyes—a lustful glow filling her gaze. "No~ not at all~" she murmured out in a gasp, "Just catching my breath~ don't hold back~"

Rhysand smirked at her lustful request, and he leaned in close, his lips almost brushing against hers now as he stared deep into her eyes. "Trust me, pretty girl~ I don't intend to~"

With that, his lips closed the distance, and he stole a kiss. Keyleth moaned out desperately, her eyes fluttering shut as her body arched even more, pressing herself to fully fit against his lean and muscular body, pressing herself back into the handsome tiefling's kiss, wanting to melt herself into him. Her hips rolled, rocking back, and she moaned as she felt him thrust hard into her again, picking up the pace.

It would be well into the next morning when the two were finished, Keyleth laying exhausted on the tiefling's chest—a blissful smile on her face, and secret desire that she could stay there forever.

#a twisted tale (nsft snippet) #exandria is for lovers (critical role) #the sweet and sexy ashari (keyleth) #a tavern regular (oc muse) #the horned fool (rhysand merlot) #going off script (canon divergent)

[gccdstories]

@siderealxmelody / *

That anger he felt, it was almost secondary to everything else. It had settled deep inside of him, flooding his veins and he knew he couldn't separate himself from it anymore.

And as both Seraphine and Tisiphone traded their words, Rhysand just... waited. Maybe he would be forced to examine what had happened those few years ago.

And maybe--maybe he didn't have to. Ever.

He knew, like he'd known for some time now, that he and Tisiphone weren't the mated pair that everyone had hoped they'd be. They couldn't be honest with one another, and he always felt like she'd judged him. Thought him less than he was because of the darkness that dwelt inside.

Until she had suffered--

❝ Fuck. ❞ The curse breathed from his lips, Rhysand moved to the other end of the tent, the females' words loud enough to make it through the barrier, and he just... waited.

Unsure of why he did, but he did.

Perhaps because he knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

#siderealxmelody #muse ;; rhysand

[dxncingxnmyown]

jacqueline, smash or pass: rhysand windsor .. .. 😗

"Is that a serious question? Smash! Those shoulders. That head of hair. That tight, piece of... Ahem, English gentleman propriety? Unfortunately, he seems entirely humorless with the whole stiff upper lip shtick. And let me tell you - the French have skills you would not believe." @frvgcleternty @bloodycrxwn

#muse: jacqueline #ask meme #(rhysand and jacqueline) #(dennis and jacqueline) #i absolutely had fun with this no cap

[bloodofthefates]

x. background & interactions

Nuala - name meaning “fair shoulder” or “fair-shouldered one” Cerridwen - name meaning “fair” or “blessed poetry”; mythological enchantress & goddess of the Underworld Allegiance: Velaris & The Night Court - Though Nuala & Cerridewen attend Feyre and later Elain as handmaidens or attendants, this is often a cover job title that is used to explain their accompaniment to the Inner Circle & High Lord & High Lady. Though their friendship and allegiance to both Archeron sisters keep them in these services when not directly working under their actual title as spies for Azriel or Rhys, they do ultimately serve and answer to them in all capacities. Ultimately, I think they serve Azriel first and foremost (take that as good or bad?) but abide by his loyalty to Rhys and subsequently align themselves with the High Lord. - Nesta and the power they sense from her feels foreign and not quite right, making both of the twins very uncomfortable around her and in her presence. They prefer to maintain their distance from her unless directly ordered to do so otherwise as she feels like unstable and untapped magic they are incredibly perceptive to. Due to their protectiveness of both Feyre and Elain especially, this compounds how they feel about the eldest Archeron and often the treatment of them they’ve witnessed (knowingly or unknowingly).

#✲ NUALA [ headcanon ] #✲ CERRIDWEN [ headcanon ] #✲ NUALA [ about ] #✲ CERRIDWEN [ about ] #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] CERIDWEN #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] NUALA #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] FEYRE ARCHERON #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] ELAIN ARCHERON #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] NESTA ARCHERON #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] AZRIEL #✲ NUALA [ dynamic ] RHYSAND #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] FEYRE ARCHERON #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] ELAIN ARCHERON #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] NESTA ARCHERON #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] AZRIEL #✲ CERRIDWEN [ dynamic ] RHYSAND #picking up 2 muses means so many tags jfc

[nova-stardragon]

How ACOTAR characters make their beds

Idk where this came from but it's an idea that popped into my brain so. How ACOTAR characters make the bed in the morning (nothing dirty I promise sntkjrsl)

Rhysand - Half-hazardly throws things into order, figures he'll fix it later, never does.

Morrigan - arranges throw pillows like she's making artwork

Cassian - Doesn't make the bed, usually is so tired from all his ~activity~ (training!! We're talking training...) he just face plants in his bed as is

Azriel - makes his bed with military precision every morning, despite the fact he seems to barely sleep

Feyre - tries to make the bed neatly, usually gets distracted by Rhysand, and she ends up with the "fix it later" mentality

Nesta - she doesn't make her bed. That's a thing people do? She's too busy for it.

Elain - makes her bed right after she gets up, probably hums to herself while she does it.

Amren - she does something with her bed, probably. You'll never get to see it though.

#acotar #cassian #azriel #rhysand #feyre #amren #nesta #elain #morrigan #weird hc #weird musings #seriously though where did this come from #someone please explain my brain to me

[sapphiredhearts-a]

ships tags with @minimavampiressbase ( emma edition )

#☾ ` my fucked up remedy ; damon x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` you put me back together again ; jacob x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` you know me better than the truth ; peeta x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` if I don't got you then I got nobody at all ; noah x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` so dizzy don't know what hit me ; bella x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` my downfall my muse ; klaus x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` you're crazy and I'm out of my mind ; brady x emma ( minimavampiress ) . #☾ ` my end and my beginning ; rhysand x emma ( minimavampiress ) .

[homiines]

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

as soon as he feels her arms worm around his body, he finds himself resisting the urge to tense his body as a reaction but then he feels the warmth radiating from her and embrace him, he finds himself relaxing completely - opening up solely for her and only her, leaving himself completely vulnerable. he's thankful for the solitude that they currently have, with the rest of his friends occupied else where because one. this is not anything they need to see and two. he wouldn't ever heard the end of it. but he is thankful for the solitude because there's nothing else he wanted more than to be alone with her. he didn't want to share her at the moment in time.

❛❛ careful, you wouldn't want to risk touching something you shouldn't. ❜❜ he teases, hands rubbing along the soft skin of her arms as he spares a side glance to her through darkened hues. he didn't know what he did to deserve such affection, but he's not going to allow her to let her get away from him so easily if she ever decided to. ❛❛ unless that's what your aiming for? if so, you only had to ask. ❜❜ fingers trails along the tattoo embedded into her arm, following further up her skin. teasing aside, it wouldn't do well for @lovetold to brush her fingers against his smooth iridescence wings for there's no certainty on how he could possibly react. the unknown sometimes frightened him.

#& muse : ❛ rhysand / threads. ❜ #& interactions : ❛ feyre archeron / ft lovetold. ❜ #hope this is okay??? #lemme know if you want me to change anything or if you are NOT happy with anything??? #lovetold

[luxmaeastra]

Seraphine smiled slyly, giving him a twirl.

"See, I told you you'd love to come shopping with me."

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, turning to look at the full length mirror in the dressing room.

"Do you think I should wear this too Starfall? It's too plain right -"

The temptress she was becoming was not unwelcome, he enjoyed these little shows as she tried on the newest fashion that fit her fancy.

Rhysand smiled as she sat back in his hair, his cheek buzzed with the sensation of where she had kissed his cheek.

"Hmm, I don't think that is something you should wear to Starfall, maybe more when we are alone in the cabin." He grinned, the thoughts slipping into place.

#Muse | Rhysand