#Ressina and Feyre

[loudtrashphantom]

A Court of Frost and Starlight:

This book was a much-needed light-hearted break after ACOWAR. It tugged on my heartstrings at points, especially with the weaver and her tapestry, and of course Nesta's inability to be near the crackling fire due to the similarity of sound and the breaking of bones.

I don't have much to go on it other than;

- Was Bryaxis the one Mor saw in the forest? Cause the description was pretty similar.

- What was Cassian's gift to Nesta before he chucked it in the Sidra?

- I kinda don't want Lucien and Elain to end up together. Elain and Azriel make the perfect pairing, and Lucien has already stated that they can't stand to be in the same room together for longer than two minutes.

[shallyne]

Came up so empty that I blurted "It's snowing."

I love awkward Feyre

Acofas chapter 4

[luxmaeastra]

//Rhysand saw a fun TikTok and now demanded it be canon//

Rhysand grinned holding little Feyre's hand. They needed to be quick before Tisiphone got home. He picked Feyre up and urged the tow older girls into the dress shop. He grinned at Ressina. She may be a painter on her fretime but she did have her own business.

"Ress I brought you two, no three more girls to indoctrinate into your dresses."

Nesta he assumed had already scouted and found the most expensive item here. Elaine would probably be where the crystals were. Feyre - he looked to his youngest and grinned.

"Feyre you want to see all the bone knives Auntie Nesie has? Can you say please?"

//they tried so hard to be good by then 🥺//

The sight of the family coming in made Ressina smile, she moved from where she had been tending to one of her newer dresses to meet them. It was strange seeing the young children of their High Lord moving among her things, watching as they went to their preferred areas.

It seemed they had a new addition, the youngest seemed to be close to her father's side as she looked around. She was indeed looking for something, not interested in the fineries her sisters found, or the beauty her other sister was drawn to.

"My bone knives? Now that is a special request."

Feyre pressed closer to her father, a bit shy when she was addressed. She really wasn't used to asking for anything for herself, she was so use to trying to do things for others.

Her eyes widened when her father spoke. Yes, the bone knives. She stepped nervously forward, fiddling with her sleeve. "Please can I see the bone knives?"

[lainalit]

The 'Feyre has her art friends like ressina' argument many feyre stans make for saying feyre has friends outside of the IC is really funny to me because I'm pretty sure that SJM forgot about them and they will never be seen or mentioned again in the future books

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Solstice Tree Farm

(Christmas Tree Farm)

Azriel x Reader

A Taylor Swift inspired ACOTAR fic

This can be read as stand alone but is a follow up taking place on the solstice before the epilogue of this one shot: Part 1: Ivy (Covered in You)

warnings: sexual content, suggestive language, language, alcohol

Az held my hand tightly, warming the chill of my freezing hands. “Holidays can be hard. Five hundred years later and I still get hit with pangs of sadness when memories of my childhood creep their way to the forefront of my thoughts.”

“Yeah,” I frowned. “That makes sense. Trauma never really disappears, we just learn to cope with it.”

He nodded, giving me a soft smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll always be here to help you through the hard times, Y/N. Whether you need a listening ear, space, or words of understanding.”

My eyes lined with silver as I leaned my head gently against his shoulder “I love you, Az.”

He brushed a kiss to my forehead, his plush lips warming me from the inside out. “And I love you. Always.”

My steps halted as I spotted a new wine bar lit up with the sound of its patrons friendly laughter rolling out the front doors. “Oh, I need to get Mor a bottle of wine and I hear they have a perfectly spiced mulled wine here that is imported from Winter.”

Az put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. I browsed the selections, snagging the wine Mor had raved about. We had started an annual tradition of wrapping gifts together while each downing a bottle of wine. It was no surprise that the more gifts we wrapped, the sloppier our wrapping jobs became. The special tradition between my friend and I both filled Az’s heart with warmth and…. made his eye twitch just a little bit. Ever the perfectionist, my mate. His wrappings were always the neatest of the inner circle.

As we browsed the aisles of the wine bar’s shopping section, something caught my eye. A Chardonnay imported from Vallahan - the same wine that was shared between my former husband and I at our wedding.

Nausea roiled in my stomach, the room suddenly feeling too hot. “Az, I… I need to get out of here.” His brows furrowed with concern but he asked no questions as he quickly stepped with me out of the store.

My heart raced. I loathed my husband, his death at my hands was deserved, and I did not miss my life in Vallahan at all. However, there was still blood coating my hands and I was not a violent person.

Az looked to me and I knew that his shadows, my favorite one in particular, noticed the wine too. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“No, I just needed air. I can find mulled wine for Mor elsewhere I’m sure.”

Az offered to go back into the store to get it but I gripped his hand tightly, needing his presence to keep me grounded.

Digging through my mind for any other topic, I asked, “Have you ever seen the bears from the Winter Court?”

Az smiled as we resumed our walking, “I have several times over the centuries. They were also a valuable resource during the war with Hybern.”

I thought for a moment. “I’d like to see them some day.”

We walked for another fifteen or so minutes before I finally asked to return home, fatigue overtaking me. Az swooped me up in his arms and flew me back to the townhouse. We’d occupied it as our personal residence for years now, thanks to Rhysand and Feyre’s generosity.

We could have purchased another house in the city but this one held so many memories to Az, memories of our family, staying there made me feel like I had been a part of their lives for much longer.

~~~~~~~

The next morning, I slept in longer than normal. Azriel had to leave early for a meeting with Cass and Rhys. He left a note stating he’d be home with pastries from our favorite bakery in a few hours.

He’d been so busy recently with work. I had been busy too. I’d taken to assisting Feyre and Ressina at the studio. The children warmed my heart and while I was not good with painting, I loved working with my hands. Each year at solstice, I’d taken to offering crafting classes for the littles to make gifts. It filled my heart with even more joy than I thought possible.

I stretched, as I awoke from bed. My body aching from whatever odd position I seemed to fall asleep in last night. Az and I had every intention of “heating things up” after we’d shopped but I fell asleep while he rubbed my back. He must have sensed that I needed the rest - the reprieve from the depths of my mind - as he let me be.

While I definitely appreciated his thoughtfulness, part of me wished he would have woken me. Tiredness aside, I was hungry for his touch, every nerve in my body screaming out for him. Just thinking about it made my breasts heavy and aching to feel him on me, my thighs squeezing tightly together to relieve the ache if only slightly

I thought about taking the time to scratch that particular itch myself but I had to get ready for my afternoon class.

~~~~~~~

The class went well. Feyre had stopped by to see the children and do some painting in her office. She’d squeezed me tightly, placing a kiss on each cheek in greeting. Gratitude filled me for how accepting she’d been of me when I first came to Velaris from Vallahan. The whole family instantly made me feel welcome, we’d grown so close over the past 10 years.

After the class, Feyre and I decided to visit a nearby tea parlor - chatting about everything from art and politics to Nyx and holiday plans. I laughed as she shared a story of Rhys sneaking off with Nyx to “attend court business” with Kallias and Viviane - but instead it was just to have the pair and their children train Rhys and Nyx on the latest snowball fighting techniques. Anything to gain a competitive edge for their own annual fight at the cabin.

After a while, Feyre reached across the table to squeeze my hand. Her blue-gray eyes meeting mine as she asked if I was doing okay. Daemati abilities aside, she was naturally very perceptive of emotions. I finally confessed to her that I hadn’t been in the holiday spirit this year when normally it was my favorite time of the year. She’d offered comfort in return and shared her own stories of times that she had struggled during the season as well, adding that Rhys had especially struggled after returning from under the mountain

It was reassuring to hear that my family understood the underlaying feelings of melancholy that could rise to the surface during such a joyous season.

When I arrived back to the townhouse, I was greeted with a box of pastries and a note from Az apologizing that we’d missed eachother.

I definitely needed the visit with Feyre but felt a bit guilty for missing him. In true Azriel fashion, there was an arrow pointing to the back of the note:

“Don’t you dare feel guilty for not being home. I’m glad that you and Feyre spent time together.”

Momentarily confused by how he knew where I’d been, the glazed look Feyre had gotten at one point during our tea time came back to me. Gods, daemati powers would be convenient.

~~~~~~~

Azriel didn’t return home until late that night. I’d dozed off while reading on the couch, waking up to him carrying me back to our bed. I gave him a sleepy smile and informed him there was food from our favorite take away spot in the kitchen.

The strong hold of his muscled body pressing into me reignited the fire that had burned inside of me that morning. Clearly scenting my arousal he gave a feline grin. “I’m hungry for something else.”

Our joining that night was hard and fast. I came quickly which only fueled his male pride, by the time he was through with me I was completely and utterly satiated. I all but fell asleep on my mate before he lifted me off of him, curling into me. I awoke briefly in the night to find his wings encompassing us - the warmth and darkness quickly soothing me back to sleep.

~~~~~~~

Once again I woke to an empty bed. I couldn’t help the frown that formed at his departure. We always had an understanding of the unexpected absences that occurred with his work. Selfishly, I had just hoped to spend the morning in bed with him.

I leaned to my side of the bed to find a note reading,

“Don’t hate me for taking off so early. You just looked too beautiful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake a sleeping angel.

Rhys needed Cassian and I at the Hewn City, I promise I’ll be home soon.

I love you.”

I was loved and I was grateful. To go from a loveless marriage to a mated pairing so full of love that the only hint of sadness came from the absence of his presence. And then, even in his absence, he still made his love known. The thought made my stomach flutter.

The fluttering quickly went away as nausea rolled in. I’d forgotten to eat the take away food I brought home last night, falling asleep full of Az instead. I hadn’t eaten since scarfing down a pastry when I returned home from tea with Feyre.

I ran to the bathroom, dry heaved, and then made my way to the kitchen - instantly feeling better after reheating the leftovers from last night.

I took a bath and got ready for my afternoon class when I heard the door open, shadows greeting me before I even heard Azriel approach. He gave me a mischevious look, eyes gleaming.

He was up to something.

I smirked. “That look means trouble. What did you do?”

He just smiled, taking my hand and nodding his head toward our bedroom. “Come here.”

We entered the room and he snapped his fingers. Shadows taking it as a cue, they began swirling into a funnel of darkness. They cleared and two suitcases appeared in their absence. Mine had a gorgeous knee-length cobalt blue wool coat hanging next to it along with a matching scarf and hat, and lined leather gloves.

I looked to Az, filled with excitement and confusion. “The coat and accessories are absolutely gorgeous, and in your color! I couldn’t love them more. Thank you.” I nodded toward the suitcases, “What about those though?”

“We’re going on a trip.” He smiled. “I talked to Feyre and she’ll cover your classes while we’re gone.”

“You packed my bags?” I asked.

“I’m your mate. I know what you like.” A playful look of arrogance masking his face.

“Alright, Spymaster, I’m at your disposal.”

Before I could follow up with questions the luggage disappeared and Azriel took my hand launching us into a winnow.

~~~~~~~

My jaw dropped. Before me in a snow covered clearing surrounded by large mountains and spruce trees of all sizes was a barn transitioned into a home. It was absolutely stunning with twinkling fae lights outside, a warm glow shining from within. The house was decked with spruce and evergreen branches, boughs of holly, each window and door donning wreaths.

“Az? Is this where we are staying?” I marveled.

“Welcome to the Winter Court, my love. Kallias and Viviane are letting us use their evergreen farm as a getaway.” His smile shone brighter than any of the twinkling fae lights. He gestured toward the door, “Come, take a look around.”

Once again, my jaw fell as I took in the inside of the barn turned lodge. A fire warmed the room from the massive stone fireplace, illuminating the reclaimed wood accents filling the place. Huge fur rugs blanketed the floor of the open loft. In a corner of the space, situated in front a wall of windows was a spruce tree that had to be twenty feet tall, decked with ornate trimmings.

“This is……. It’s incredible, Az. I don’t know what to say.” I leaned into him, sending waves of adoration and gratitude down our bond, to which he sent back a surge of love.

Taking my hand, he walked me to the plush sectional couch in front of the fire where warm mugs of cocoa, mints, and a tray of various Winter Court delicacies for grazing awaited.

“I’m sorry…” he sat, pulling me down into his lap before continuing, “for leaving this morning. I know the past few weeks have been difficult for you and after our excursion into the city the other day,” he cut off, eyes filling with empathy. “Well, I thought maybe we could use a pre-solstice getaway. I came here to prepare everything for us beforehand. There’s no better place to get into the holiday spirit than the Winter Court.”

My eyes teared up as emotions flooded me. Gods, I am such a sap. But this male, he never failed to amaze me. His love and devotion to me was euphoric. Nothing in the world could match the high of being with him.

“I love you, Az,” I choked up. “Thank you. This is incredible.”

He wiped a lone tear that fell onto my face and replaced it with a kiss.

The single kiss relit that flame smoldering inside me as I straddled his lap, pressing my mouth to his, tongues and teeth crashing into eachother. In between breaths he managed to get out “Do.” kiss. “You.” Deeper kiss. “Want to” a kiss to the column of his neck. “Go out t-.” a nip to the neck and a heated kiss to take away the pain. “Fuck it.” he ground out before ripping my top off and pinning me underneath him. I snapped my fingers and the rest of our clothes disappeared completely.

~~~~~~~

One hour? Two hours? Three, maybe? blissful hours later, he carried me to the bathroom where a hot bath awaited us. My body ached for it. Az stepped in, setting us both down and situating me between his legs. He rubbed my tense shoulders, a particularly deep knead making my eyes roll back into my head and an involuntary moan escape my lips. “Fuck,” he cursed. “That moan.” He repeated the motion on the opposite shoulder, garnering the same involuntary response. “So. pretty.” He said, voice low, dripping with lust.

Those words alone caused me to rest my head back on his chest, looking up into his eyes. His renewed arousal incredibly evident against my back. He firmly placed a calloused hand on my neck, leaning down to kiss me. Hard. Before I could turn around, he gripped my hips. Strong arms lifted me up before sinking me down onto him, inch by torturous inch bringing the sweetest pleasure back to my body.

~~~~~~~

After a long bath that may or may not have needed to be reheated not once but twice, and sliding into the most comfortable bathing robe to ever grace my skin, we padded to the bedroom.

This room was the type of room that one could enter and be totally content never leaving. A massive four poster bed situated on top of a fluffy white rug called to me. Its blankets and pillows could swallow myself, my large Illyrian mate, and his massive wings. A fire warmed the space and the floor to ceiling window overlooked a hillside at the edge of the clearing, city lights burned brightly down below as coin sized snowflakes fell lazily from the sky.

Candles were lit around the room and fae lights softly illuminated the space. A knock from the outside door interrupted my moment of awe. Az pointed toward a box on the bed, stating he would be right back.

Not sure who could possibly visiting us, I padded over to the bed and opened the gift wrapped box. Inside lay a silken robe and matching sheer night gown. My heart fluttered as once again, the gown was dyed a gorgeous cobalt blue. I dropped the heavy robe I was wearing to dress myself in the see-through gown barely reaching below my ass, the new robe, and matching thong. I sighed at the luxurious feeling of silk lightly caressing my more intimate areas.

“Gods.” Az spoke lowly from the door behind me. “You’ve always been devastating in my color, but this…. I’m starting to think that this is YOUR color. You’re an absolute goddess.”

I turned as he carried in a tray of steaming food. “I had this delivered from the city’s Solstice Market.”

My stomach rumbled at the sight of the stuffed bread, potato pancakes, and sausages on the platter before me.

“Oooh, Az, this is incredible! You’ve really thought of everything.” I looked at him intently. “Thank you, my love, truly.”

He smiled and placed the tray on a table for two set up in the room. I grinned as the smells of the food wafted toward me, “let me run to the kitchen and see if there’s a wine cabinet!”

“Sorry darling, it seems that is the one thing that I didn’t think of. But we do have hot apple cider.” He motioned to a kettle on the large tray that I’d somehow overlooked.

“That’s perfect!” I reached to the kettle and poured a mug of it. The absolutely divine smell of it filling my nose.

~~~~~~~

I awoke the next morning in Azriel’s arms. His wings cocooning us protectively. I turned around to face him, peppering kisses to his lips, nose, and cheeks.

His eyes slowly fluttered open and my heart nearly stopped at the sight of his gold-flecked hazel eyes and long, dark eyelashes. Nearly ten years in and the full effect of him never failed to awe me.

After dinner the previous night, we had cuddled on the bed as his fingers lifted up the hem of my nightgown. He traced lazy circles and lines up and down my waist, the dips of my hips, my abdomen, he spent extra time and attention on my breasts: tracing, tweaking, and gently pulling my nipples, as if he’d never touched them before. I, of course, encouraged the behavior by arching back into him and letting out an occasional soft moan.

At one point, he just stopped all motion, staring deeply into my eyes. Wonder and adoration shone as he stared, as if he too had never lost his awe toward me. We had eachother three more times during the night. Something about the intimate getaway felt like accepting the bond all over again.

I snapped from my thoughts as Az playfully nipped at my ear, retracting his wings from around us.

I looked toward the outside, snow capped mountains gleaming under the sunlight. “What’s on your agenda for us today?”

“That is a secret for me to know, and you to find out later.”

Running a single finger down the length of his chest, torso, lower - I cooed. “I hear that I can be quite convincing, Spymaster.”

His only response, a smack to my ass, “Come on, greedy. That would spoil the fun.”

Begrudgingly I got out of the bed, the warm rug beneath feeling like heaven on my feet.

~~~~~~~

After a delightful breakfast at a cafe in the city, Azriel led me toward a massive building on the outskirts of it, on the opposite side of the palace grounds. Several males posted themselves outside of the structure - one of which recognized Az immediately.

“Azriel, it’s good to see you.” The burly white haired man boomed. “Is this your lovely mate that I’ve heard so much about? I heard that your High Lord and High Lady are quite smitten with her.”

Az greeted the male politely, “Hello Klaus, yes, this would indeed be the exquisite Y/N.”

I smiled as the male shook my hand. “A pleasure to meet you Y/N. Did Azriel tell you what you’re here for today?”

I rolled my eyes tossing a mock glare at Azriel. “No, this Spymaster seems to be quite full of secrets.”

The male laughed, a loud jovial sound. “Let’s not waste time then! Come and see my pride and joy.”

I stepped into the building and my eyes filled with wonder. What was already a massive building outside was truly enormous inside, clearly some kind of glamour hid the true size from onlookers. What really caught my eye, however, were the acres upon acres of training, feeding, and sleeping quarters, along with the armory - none of it on the ground level designed to house or clothe fae, but for animals. Throughout the building were soldiers and animals training side my side, working in unison. White foxes, antlered deer, and there…. Toward the back of the building, my heart skipped a beat, giant white bears! Some wearing armor, some lazily lounging along indoor pools, trainers even brushed the creatures to which they seemed to enjoy the feeling of bristles running through their thick fur.

Klaus spent hours walking us through the grounds of the facility. I teared up when given the opportunity to brush one of the bears. I felt like a child next to such a large creature. I was aware of the danger they posed, but how could anyone resist the opportunity to spend time with a creature with cute little ears like that. They couldn’t be THAT much of a threat to me…. so long as I wasn’t an enemy. The bear seemed to agree as it tilted its head toward me in a pleading manner, as if to say: “Ah yes, right there. Scratch behind my ear just there. That’s the spot.”

It turned out that Klaus was the head of the Winter Court’s animal forces. A highly revered position in their armies, essentially a step below Cassian’s rank in the Night Court. When we were leaving, Klaus told me to come back anytime, kissing my hand in parting. Azriel instinctively sidled himself closer to me, if Klaus noticed, he didn’t show it.

Fae mates. So territorial.

~~~~~~~

After our tour of the training facility, Azriel took us on a reindeer drawn sleigh ride through the remainder of castle grounds. We cozied up together under a blanket, sipping hot cocoa and taking in the beauty of the court.

It turned out that Mor pulled strings with Viviane as such tours were a rare privilege. I teared up yet again, thinking of the effort my mate and best friend put into making this Winter Solstice so special.

I was sure to thank Azriel thoroughly that night. Five times to be exact.

~~~~~~~

The next morning came too quickly, Azriel and I refusing to leave the bed until our stomachs grumbled in unison.

We headed to the Solstice Market for the remainder of our gift shopping. I found a gorgeous bracelet for Amren, the gems mined from a frozen over cave in the heart of the Winter Court. For Feyre, I purchased paints with unique pigments inspired by the terrain of the court. I continued checking names off of my gift list, until all that was left was Mor.

It may have been strange, but what were boundaries between two best friends - I was able to acquire a similar set of lingerie to the one Azriel had purchased for me in a shade of red that would perfectly compliment her features. Azriel rolled his eyes at me in amusement.

I’d also found a particularly smutty sapphic novel for her thanks to the recommendation of a friendly shopkeeper - I picked up a copy for myself too.

Azriel and I then strolled to the wine vendors - this was where the trip took quite a turn.

I bought several bottles of the mulled wine Mor adored along with boxes of decadent chocolates. The vendor was kind, and rather chatty. We talked for twenty minutes or so and were about to leave when he offered us complimentary glass mugs of the spiced wine to warm us on our walk back toward the lodge. Az quickly declined…. For both of us. I playfully huffed stating that I had no objections to such a kind offer. Azriel’s expression grew concerned as he once again waved off the offer.

The male working at the stand watched as I stood disregarding Az’s strange objection. I kept my hand held out waving Azriel off with the other. The vendor clearly knew better than to deny a lady who was clear about what she wanted and handed over the glass.

Azriel then growled. GROWLED.

I turned around to walk away, Az on my tail. I lifted the glass to take a sip when one of his shadows, not just any shadow, my FAVORITE one - restrained my wrist.

Little traitor.

“What the hell, Az!?” I asked. Quietly enough to not cause a scene but loudly enough to convey my frustration toward him. He paused for a moment - a rare show of conflict troubled his face. “We…. We need to talk.” he said and winnowed us straight back to the lodge.

~~~~~~~

Upon arrival, I stormed into the lodge. “Do you think I have a drinking problem or something? What is it, Az? It’s so unlike you to act like this. First the territorial bullshit when Klaus kissed my hand, now taking away my choice in what I want to drink?” My traitorous body let tears slip.

Az said nothing. He stared at me for a moment, before walking up to me and grasping me into his arms, his warm embrace enveloping me. I wanted to pull away but couldn’t. His scent and warmth were intoxicating, placating me.

He kissed the top of my head, his arms still embracing behind me and moving upward, brushing his fingers through my hair before pulling back. His arms released as he took my face in his hands, hazel eyes filled with an emotion I’d never seen before.

“Baby.” He got out. Voice cracking.

“Yes? What?”

“Baby.” His eyes rimmed with tears.

“What Az? What is it? Just tell me.”

His face cracked into a smile full of wonder, the tears spilling. “You’re pregnant.”

Oh?

Oh!

“Ohhhhhh.” I managed to get out. Everything clicking into place. The emotions, the random bouts of nausea, fatigue, the mild aches in my body…the constant need to have Azriel buried inside of me.

“Gods.” I muttered next. “This explains so much! How did you figure it out? WHEN did you figure it out?”

Azriel maintained his composure, resting a hand on each of my arms while running his thumbs soothingly up and down them. “I think my body knew first. I was waking up with my wings around you protectively - normally that only happens intentionally but this time it was involuntary. And then, you started showing signs similar to those when you’re approaching your cycle but… it’s been less than two months since the last one. I couldn’t sense the shift in your scent yet but something deep within me kept telling me to observe.”

Running a hand through his hair, he continued: “Then we came here and it felt like the mating bond snapped into place all over again. The night that we were laying in bed and I was tracing my fingers along your body… your curves felt just slightly more enticing - I don’t… I don’t know how to explain it, but when I ran my fingers to your breasts they were so full, so heavy. Initially I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in trying to stave off my arousal, to allow you to rest but then it hit me. The softest hint of rose. The same scent Rhys described when Feyre…”

I cut him off. “The look, the one you gave me of wonder and awe - that’s when it hit you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Az replied. “Are you upset?”

“Upset? No! Never! Azriel,” I choked out. “This life with you is the most incredible gift. Having you as my mate, our chosen family, and now this life growing inside of me - this beautiful life created of the love you’ve so wholeheartedly given me. It’s so much more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Words evaded Azriel as he embraced me, sobs wracking his body- pure joy and unconditional love flooded from him through me. As his sobs settled he pulled back to look at me, eyes filled with promise. “I swear to love and protect the two of you until the end of time. My heart was already wholly yours but now, somehow it’s been filled so much more than I knew possible. Our child will know only love from us. A beacon of hope shining from the darkness of our own childhoods.”

I looked up to him, reciprocating the feelings of joy and love through our bond.

“I love you.” I vowed.

“Oh baby” he kissed my lips.

“Oh baby” he knelt down to kiss my still flat abdomen.

“Happy Solstice. I love you.”

[fauxdette]

Would you lead me straight to hell or lead me to the garden? Pt.1

An Elriel story

•••

Summary: Azriel returns after weeks away. Elain tries to figure out what they are

Warnings: None for Part 1

•••

The market had been Feyre’s idea; a chance for merchants who had lost their businesses during the attack on Velaris, to start again. Anybody who wanted one was allocated a wooden stall along the river for selling goods, or a plain wooden table for promoting services. Scattered among these were portable food carts; their delicious smells wafting through air.

Feyre and Ressina were manning a table for their painting class; a few examples of the students work propped up on easels before them. Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie had one too; a banner tied to the front read ‘Female Only Bookclub’.

Elain studied her own stall, an idea she’d had weeks ago and been working on endlessly since. It was a florists booth; overflowing with ribbon-tied bouquets, potted plants, propagated shoots and hanging dried herbs. Everything handpicked and grown by her. Well… almost everything. She frowned at the sacks of seedling and soil. That idea had been his.

“A way for people to start their own gardens,” he’d said.

Too bad he wasn’t here to see it.

She glanced over at Nesta’s table; her older sister laughing and talking with her friends. Something warm spread within her chest at the sight. But then Gwyn turned slightly, red hair falling off her shoulder, and there it was. So delicate someone else may never have noticed… the thin chain and the rose pendant of coloured glass hanging from it. Elain’s breath hitched and she turned away from them quickly, tears pricking her eyes.

He wasn’t here. And if he was she didn’t even know if he would care. Things had been so weird since Winter Solstice, since he told her their non-kiss had been a mistake, and then after Nyx he had simply… left. On some sort of spy trip, Rhys had said. He’d left and not said goodbye, left and given that necklace to Gwyn, left and she was alone again.

“Are you selling these?”

The voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she pivoted quickly.

Lucien’s eyes, the gold and russet one, roamed the display from where he stood, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Uh- yeah. Well. Trying to. I haven’t sold anything yet.”

He nodded slowly, mouth tugging down at the sides.

“It looks amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Elain kicked the toe of her boot on the ground behind her.

“I didn’t know you were coming back to town today,” she offered, breaking the silence.

“Rhys asked for an update from the emissaries so we’ve travelled in for a few days. Debrief type stuff.”

“We?”

No sooner had the word left her mouth than she felt him. A cool breeze that travelled up her spine, her back arching slightly at the sensation. The shadows under the awning of the stalls seemed to pulse. She looked up and he was there, hazel eyes locked on her.

Azriel.

Part 2

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (2/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

We're back with Feyre continuing to unwittingly make Rhys lose his mind in second part of my gift for @the-lonelybarricade for @acotargiftexchange! Thank you to @itsthedoodle for beta reading <3

Ch. 1 - Got a Feelin' 'bout the Headline | Ch. 2 - Beautiful. Smart. Independent.

You can read the second chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore.

Feyre really didn't like the way that cop was looking at her. He'd already passed her corner once, and she'd forced herself to ignore him and just keep hawking papers. There were hundreds of lesser fae newsies just like her on the streets of Velaris—even though she was shouting headlines, she might as well have been invisible.

And when you were technically a fugitive, nothing less than invisible would do.

But something had made him turn around and come back. Lucien, at least, was long gone, back to his spot by the docks to finish work for the day. Feyre hoped he wouldn't come looking for her again; if she needed to bolt, Lucien couldn't travel through shadows, and Feyre would never, ever leave her best friend behind.

Recognition flickered in the policeman's eyes. He broke into a run, straight towards her. "Feyre Archeron!" he shouted.

Heads turned. Feyre's heart pounded. The faeries in the square turned their attention to her, putting it together that they had a criminal in their midst.

So Feyre became a shadow again.

To everyone else, it looked like she'd disappeared entirely. But Feyre had merely made herself impossible to grab, nothing more than a wisp of darkness, and she slid into the shadow that the nearby streetlight cast in the late afternoon sun.

She couldn't stay like this forever, so like a ghost, she passed through the solid walls and doors of the Rainbow. Feyre tried to ignore the pang of longing at the workshops and art galleries—there was no time to linger. The Rainbow had always been a safe haven, but there was one place in particular she knew she wouldn't be found.

Once she was backstage at Ressina's theater, Feyre let herself become corporeal again…only to be greeted by an ear-piercing shriek.

"High Lady! " Ressina cried. "Do you really have to do that right in the middle of my dressing room?"

"Sorry. Had a bit of an emergency, Mind if I hide out here for a while?" Feyre said.

Ressina smiled. "My favorite scenic designer can stay here as long as she likes."

Feyre leaned in and kissed the air just above both of Ressina's cheeks, careful not to touch the actress's heavy stage makeup. If Ressina hadn't been wearing an elaborate sequined costume, complete with feathered hat perched precariously on her head, Feyre would have given the female a hug.

"Painting a few trees hardly makes me a scenic designer."

"I made sure you're credited as one in the playbill. And we've been getting such good reviews, I can finally pay instead of owing you a favor. Rhysand and Morrigan are even in the audience tonight."

"Rhysand is…here?" Feyre almost didn't believe she'd heard correctly. As far as she knew, the prince spent his free time at parties and pleasure halls—not in small, lesser fae-run playhouses in out-of-the-way corners of the city.

Cauldron, did he even like musicals?

"Probably some arts patronage thing. Morrigan is on the board of damn near every charity in Velaris."

That made a bit more sense, Feyre supposed. It was common knowledge that Rhys and his cousin were close; perhaps she'd dragged him here. And regardless of why, the buzz from the prince's attendance would do wonders for ticket sales, and Ressina deserved that. In addition to performing, she owned the place, having built the business from the ground up herself. "That's fantastic news."

Ressina shrugged. "We'll see if anything actually comes of it. I don't count my dragons before they hatch. Intermission is almost over, but feel free to stay and watch the rest."

And with that, Ressina left. From previous experience, Feyre knew that backstage in the middle of a show was a busy place, so she crept up to the front of the house and hoped she could find an empty seat.

As she passed one of the private boxes, a familiar voice drifted through the open door. Feyre did her best to ignore the way her heart gave a traitorous little flip at the sound.

"Mor, are you positive that your contacts at the food bank will be prepared for the increased demand?" Rhys was saying.

That was…odd. Whatever this was about, he sounded deadly serious, not at all like a person who was out to enjoy a night at the theater. Feyre froze and strained to listen for Mor's reply, telling herself that obviously the matter was something of political importance if more people in Velaris were suddenly going to need assistance.

Yes, definitely that and not just her own inherent nosiness.

But Mor's reply never came. And neither did the chance to fade back into the shadows. When Rhys's voice drifted out from the open door again, his purr was unmistakably aimed at her. "Hello Feyre darling.

If he wasn't accusing her of anything, Feyre certainly wasn't about to apologize. "Twice in one day. Think it's fate?" she said evenly, letting her voice carry to him.

He materialized in front of her, leaning against the doorframe. At some point since that morning, he'd changed into a formal black tunic embroidered with silver swirls. Feyre found herself wondering idly if the design matched the Illyrian tattoos she'd never seen for herself—the Herald ran plenty of headlines about Rhys in compromising positions, but tragically, a picture of him completely shirtless had never made the front page.

But of course, Feyre was only thinking about that because the plunging neckline he'd worn last Starfall had sold out papers in record time.

"If it is, then I'm the luckiest male in the world." Something in Rhys's smile was just a bit too knowing. Feyre didn't like it.

But still, there was something comfortingly familiar about hearing more of his teasing. "It's nice to see you, too."

His voice floated into her head, which nearly made her jump out of her skin. Rhys had never used his daemati abilities on her before. You shouldn't be out here, not with the police still after you. The box is secluded enough to hide, and there's an extra seat. Join me.

For a long moment, Feyre just stared at him, blinking in surprise. She'd merely stolen a loaf of bread for Lucien in a moment of desperation when he'd spent several days too sick to work and her own earnings hadn't been enough to support them both. Avoiding arrest by fading into darkness hardly made her a notorious criminal, not when any other shadow-wraith could call upon the same abilities.

But Rhys knew. And Feyre couldn't fathom who might have told him or why he'd care. She didn't trust it. "You'll want something in return, won't you?"

"I might." He gave her another one of those annoying feline smiles. She scowled back.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Draw something for me on the blank newsprint in your bag, and we'll call it even."

Feyre had never heard him sound so earnest, and his violet eyes had gone soft in a way she'd never seen from him before, either. She couldn't shake the feeling she was missing something. "I— What? Why would you want that?"

"My walls are looking a bit bare. What better way to fix that than with something you made?"

More teasing, then. They were back on familiar ground, and Feyre would have thrown a punch—mocking her art was a low blow—if Rhys hadn't praised her work before. When they'd met, she'd been sketching the skyline over the Sidra on a spare bit of newsprint leftover at the end of the day. He'd asked if she was selling newspapers to pay for art school, and she'd laughed in his face.

But after that, he'd returned to buy the paper from her every morning without fail.

"Alright. It's a bargain."

Magic crackled in the air as the bargain tattoo appeared on Feyre's arm, a swirling design that covered everything from the elbow to the fingertips of her left hand. She'd spent her whole life in the Night Court; she knew what bargain tattoos were. But by the Cauldron was this one elaborate. And beautiful.

Rhys was looking at her as if he could hear her thoughts. Feyre frantically double-checked that her shields were up—it was so easy to forget she was in the company of a daemati. "You have an artist's eye. I hope it's up to your standards."

"Bargains go both ways. Where's yours?"

"If you're that curious, undress me and find out."

It must be exhausting, Feyre supposed, to go through life unable to stop flirting for more than a few minutes at a time. But then again, Rhysand never looked tired. "Will you manage to keep quiet during the show? Or am I going to hear you blathering on about how my eyes are like stars the entire time?"

"That's something else you'll have to find out for yourself."

Before Feyre could get another word in, he took her hand and tugged her into the box. The door snicked shut behind her on a night-kissed wind.

A blonde female Feyre only recognized from newspaper photos turned and smiled at them. Morrigan, Feyre realized. She'd heard Rhys use his cousin's name, but after shouting so many headlines about her, Feyre was still caught off-guard by the sight of the Morrigan in the flesh.

"You must be Feyre Archeron. I'm Morrigan, but call me Mor. It's so nice to finally meet you," she was saying, holding out a hand for Feyre to shake.

"Oh. Um. Hello," Feyre said. There was an awkward beat of silence as she tugged her hand—which was still in Rhys's—back so she could shake Morrigan's. "Nice to meet you, too."

There was more uncomfortable silence as Rhys and Mor just stared at each other, and several different expressions cycled across their faces in quick succession. At first, Feyre didn't know what to make of it. But then she realized they must have been speaking about something mind-to-mind. Whatever the topic was, it seemed…contentious.

And that had almost distracted her enough not to notice that Mor had said nice to finally meet her. Feyre couldn't imagine who could possibly have been speaking about her to Mor so frequently.

Rhys indicated for her to sit, and Feyre did. He was right about the box being secluded; the seats were set far enough back that she'd be difficult to spot if someone came looking for her. It put her at ease.

"Do you need something to write with?" he asked, dropping into the seat next to her and stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre always carried a pencil. She reached up under her cap and pulled it out of the messy bun it had been keeping in place all day. Her hair—light brown now that she was fully corporeal—tumbled down her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Rhys staring at her, mouth slightly parted.

Before he had an opportunity to say something cutting, Feyre said, "You left a loophole, you know. I could just draw a line on the paper, and I'd keep my half of the bargain."

He shrugged. "Maybe I just wanted to see what you'd do."

Feyre had no idea what to say to that. But at that moment, the lights dimmed, and Mor took a seat on Rhys's other side. Musicians began to play the opening notes of the entr'acte. Feyre tuned it out; she'd heard it enough times when she'd been painting sets during rehearsals.

The bigger question was what she was going to draw for Rhys. As a shadow-wraith, she could see perfectly in the dark theater, so there was nothing stopping her from spending the next hour perfecting a sketch. And uninterrupted time to work on her art was vanishingly rare.

But still, it was Rhys, so the temptation to draw the outline of a cock just to spite him was strong.

Even stronger, though, was the urge to sketch his face. Rhysand was without a doubt the most beautiful male Feyre had ever seen, and since the day they'd met, she'd been eager to try her hand at capturing his strangely sensual-yet-swaggering demeanor on canvas. But a prince could have his portrait done by any artist he liked, and Feyre doubted that he'd agree if he asked him to model for her.

So even though it was against her better instincts to do something that might inflate his ego, Feyre wanted to sketch a portrait of Rhys. To her surprise, he kept quiet and still, actually paying attention to the show.

It was the longest Feyre had ever seen him go without smirking. His features were soft, and she did her best to capture that instead of the smug mask he presented to the world. Something told her moments where he looked this unguarded were rare.

She finished just as the show ended and the lights brightened again. Before Rhys could see what she'd drawn, Feyre rolled up the portrait and held it out for him with a pointed look, daring him to unroll it and examine it in front of her. The bargain tattoo on her hand faded.

Wisely, he merely thanked her and tucked it into a pocket dimension.

"Feyre, the sets you painted look like dreamscapes," Mor said, brown eyes bright. If Feyre wasn't mistaken, that was admiration.

Feyre shrugged. "The actors just needed something pretty to stand in front of while they sing."

Mor locked eyes with Rhysand again, probably having another wordless conversation. Feyre took it as her cue to leave—she could easily slip into the crowd headed for the exit, then find Ressina backstage. But Mor let out a decidedly unladylike snort, squeezed Rhys's shoulder, and winnowed away.

Rhys looked at her, and something in his eyes pinned Feyre to the spot. "Will you allow me to walk you home?" he said.

***

Rhys wasn't entirely sure he was breathing as he waited for Feyre to answer. Not that it was the point, but he wasn't sure his already-bruised ego would survive slinking back to the House of Wind alone after he'd just urged Mor to leave him alone with his mate.

"Why?" Feyre said. At least it wasn't a no.

He slid his hands into his pockets, hoping he looked nonchalant. "Because I'd like to see you get home safely, and no one will bother you if you're with me."

She nodded once. "Alright."

"I can meet you at the stage door once you've gotten your coat."

"I— I don't have one."

He was pulling his own off the back of his chair and wrapping it around her shoulders before he knew what he was doing. This late in the year, Velaris was cold after dark. And perhaps it was reckless, but the risk of a few headlines about Feyre taking him home was worth making sure she didn't freeze.

At least she'd put her arms through the sleeves while she'd scowled at him, though.

Rhys looped his arm through hers and winnowed them outside to the street. Without thinking about it, he started walking towards the tenement she shared with far too many newsies crammed into the small space. Hopefully she wouldn't ask why he knew exactly where it was.

For a while, they said nothing, but to Rhys's immense pleasure, Feyre didn't pull away from him. The silence was comfortable, and for a moment, Rhys just let himself imagine that they were walking home at the end of a proper night out.

But he'd gone to Ressina's in hopes of finding Feyre there for a reason, so Rhys broke the silence. "In a turn of events, I have news for you this evening."

"Do you?" Feyre raised her brows expectantly.

"Starting tomorrow, the owners of Velaris's newspapers will increase the price they charge the newsies. Sixty cents per hundred."

Her hand tightened on his arm as Feyre's entire body went stuff. Their mating bond was still unaccepted—and therefore, faint—but Feyre's anger surged down it anyway. The force of it was nearly enough to knock him off his feet.

When Feyre spoke again, her voice was low and deadly. "Who told you?"

"I was there when they petitioned my father for assistance today. He said no, so they moved on to another strategy."

"And why are you telling me?"

"Because if this develops the way I anticipate it will, then I want to make sure you're the first to know that I won't be buying the paper from a scab. I'd publicly support a strike."

Feyre went quiet, and to keep himself from succumbing to the temptation to read her thoughts, Rhys forced himself to focus on the lights reflected on the river in the distance. Her fingers on his arm never relaxed.

"We don't have a union," she said eventually.

"Then consider this a head start to remedy that." If anyone could form one in a matter of hours, it was Velaris's High Lady. Rhys was sure of it.

"Thank you."

They lapsed back into silence again. Even if Rhys weren't a daemati, he'd be able to see the wheels turning in her head, just from the determined set of her chin and the way a muscle ticked in her jaw. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more beautiful sight.

All too soon, they arrived at Feyre's stoop. Before Rhys had a chance to insist she keep the coat, she shrugged it off and handed it to him. "I'm not a charity case," she said, as if she could hear his thoughts.

Rhys took the coat but didn't slip it back on. "I know better than to suggest you are."

"Good." Despite the cold, Feyre made no move to step inside. Rhys was torn between urging her to go warm up and wishing that she'd stay out here with him forever. Something in her face softened, and Rhys could almost fool himself into believing she'd let him kiss her goodnight after a night at the theater as he courted her properly.

But Feyre, he reminded himself, didn't want him like that.

Rhys started to say goodbye, but Feyre added, a bit more softly, "For what it's worth, you're going to be one hell of a High Lord one day, Rhys."

Maybe Rhys didn't have Feyre Archeron's heart, but he did have her respect. And maybe that mattered more.

"My father's not a dreamer, and the Night Court suffers for it. Good luck tomorrow."

Rhys refused to waste any more of her time; unable to resist preening for her just a bit, he stretched his wings out wide, then launched himself into the air to return to the House of Wind.

When Feyre had shown up outside the box, he hadn't been able to avoid telling Mor exactly who she was to him. And now, Rhys could practically feel his cousin's mind vibrating with curiosity as he reached for it. She reassured him—not for the first time that day—that Velaris's charities were prepared to handle an influx of newsies in need, and Rhys pointedly ignored his cousin's request for updates on what she'd termed the moonlit stroll with his mate.

Alone in his bedroom with the door firmly locked behind him, Rhys finally pulled the newsprint out of the pocket dimension. And if Feyre's art hadn't been so precious, he would have dropped it in shock.

She'd sketched him. There was something soft about Feyre's portrait that had been missing from the stiff, official ones he'd sat through with his family. It gave Rhys the strangest feeling that Feyre had seen something soul-deep within him and recreated it with a pencil on a spare bit of newsprint.

If the next day weren't likely to be long and uncertain, he would have spent half the night staring at it.

When he woke early the next morning, Rhys could still feel Feyre's anger simmering in the back of his mind. He resisted the urge to tug on the bond for reassurance she was alright—the last thing he needed was for her to feel the pull just behind her ribs and realize what it meant. So all he did was keep alert as he dressed, ate, and made his way to his father's study.

And as if on cue, when the High Lord's daily briefing was barely through, Pulitzer himself burst into the study. Darkness swirled around Rhys's father, dimming the room, a clear warning that the interruption was unwelcome.

"My apologies, High Lord, but it's urgent," Pulitzer said, bowing politely.

"What, exactly, is urgent?" Rhys's father snapped.

"The newsies of Velaris are forming a union. They intend to strike, and I'm here on behalf of the city's newspaper owners to ask for your support with breaking the strike."

Rhys stilled. For a long moment, the study went silent. The slight deepening of his father's frown—and the fact that a tendril of darkness hadn't already thrown Pulitzer from the room—made it clear enough that the High Lord was weighing his options.

"Who's their leader?" Rhys said, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

"An upstart shadow-wraith named Feyre Archeron. They call her the High Lady," Pulitzer said with a sneer.

Rhys felt a warm glow of pride—despite the darkness that rolled off his father in waves. The High Lord jealously guarded his power, and it seemed that even a poor lesser-fae female couldn't get away with a nickname he took as a threat or a jibe.

"You can't possibly—" Rhys said.

The High Lord cut him off. "What sort of support?"

"Police, if you can spare them," Pulitzer said.

Rhys stood so quickly, he nearly knocked over his chair. "There is no reason at all this needs to escalate to violence."

"As my heir," the High Lord said coldly, "you need to learn that in situations like this, it's necessary. If we make an example of the newsies, the rest of Velaris will hesitate to disturb the peace going forward. Pulitzer, you have all the crown's resources you need."

Pulitzer was bowing again and thanking the High Lord for his support, but Rhys hardly noticed. He was already storming off towards the Rainbow.

[velidewrites]

A messy breakup forces 20 year old Feyre Archeron back to her old hometown of Forks, Washington—back to the life she thought she'd left behind. What she doesn't know, though, is that Forks has changed in her absence, its blue-tinted fog stained by fresh, crimson blood. Luckily, Feyre is ready to join the hunt.

🩸Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand

🩸Rating: Explicit

🩸Tags: Twilight AU

Chapter 1/5 || Read on AO3

Or continue for a snippet below!

***

“Who’s he?”

Ressina follows her gaze—then smiles. “Ah, yes. Can’t blame you for losing your focus, honestly.” She leans in closer. “That’s Rhysand Blake. He’s…” she motions over her face, as if the movement is telling enough. It is. “Like I said. There’s no point in even trying.”

Feyre hums. Rhysand. “What’s his major?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t see him around much—not that I was looking, of course—so he probably takes evening classes. He’s somewhat of an enigma, really.” Ressina narrows her stare on her again. “Something tells me that did nothing to discourage you.”

Feyre flashes her a smile. “Who doesn’t like a little mystery?”

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed, I’m basing it off the announcement post 💕): @azrielshadowssing @damedechance @melting-houses-of-gold @rosanna-writer @itsthedoodle @reverie-tales @sanfangirl @separatist-apologist @asnowfern @thelovelymadone @foundress0fnothing @thesistersarcheron @wilde-knight @popjunkie42-blog

[tunaababee]

Feysand drabbles/fics from the angst/fluff prompt list!

72. “You need sleep.” and/or

94. “I won’t lose you too.”

Please and thank you!💕

72. "You need sleep." thanks for this @asnowfern!! i just hope im doing these babies justice. im hoping i can get around to the second prompt sometime soon if the inspo strikes!!

if anyone wants to send others in, im more than happy to still take requests for it!!

There were always little constants in life that could be relied upon rain, hail or shine. Some a comfort - the way the stars constantly shined with the same fervour above Velaris, the beauty in the changing of seasons, the warmth from those she loved. Then there were the few that were nuisances.

Laundry. Taxes.

Or, in Feyre’s case, the debilitating bout of art block she couldn’t seem to shake.

She dragged her stool back from the canvas, the sound of wood scraping on wood feeling like it was rattling around in the depths of her skull as it echoed through the studio. Classes were on a small break, to give her and Ressina a breather and prepare for a particularly large batch of incoming students. It always warmed her heart with how quickly the people of the Rainbow had embraced their little studio and it brought her such quiet joy.

But right now, Feyre was just about ready to hurl a tube of paint at the canvas in the hopes that it’d shape up a bit better. This wasn’t feeling like the breather she had intended for at all.

She perched herself back onto the stool, arms resting upon her knees as she stared out the window behind her incomplete canvas. No matter how many walks she took or notes of inspiration she stowed away for later, nothing seemed to be sticking. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel like creating - if anything, that was half the problem. All she wanted to do was create but nothing her hands were making was sating the urge she felt in the pit of her stomach, gnawing at the back of her head.

Feyre stared at the canvas with a furrowed brow, deep in contemplation. Originally it had started out as a slightly more abstract portrait of Rhys, but when it wasn’t quite panning out she had started over and tried to angle for something more rooted in realism - a study of the cityscape from the view that the studio afforded her. But she wasn’t quite nailing the details, none of the satisfaction that typically surrounded the process. Back to the drawing board. Now, she didn’t even know what she was looking at. It was definitely abstract. But beyond that, she didn’t know. There was nothing speaking to her, no vision calling to her with even a rough idea of what it could turn out to be.

So she stepped across the room firmly, continuing to play with the colours in her palette and the brushstrokes on the canvas to see if she could salvage anything out of this little experiment.

The determination clouded her other senses, ignoring the waning moonlight and the small prickle on the back of her neck that would have told her that her beloved had quietly slipped into the room. Instead, she let out a small squeak as Rhysand’s arms slid around her waist, gently tugging her closer as he moved to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Evening, darling.” Rhys quietly purred into her ear, a small smile breaking across Feyre’s face. She turned to press a kiss to his cheek, but he caught her lips with his before she could, gentle and soft.

“Evening to you too. What brings you to my humble little studio?” There was a quiet laugh in her words, her eyes turning back to the canvas even when she could feel his still firmly locked on her.

“Well, I had finally finished up all my dull paperwork for the night only to find our bed empty and my wonderful mate nowhere to be found. Obviously, I’m here to rectify the issue.”

Rhys’ hands moved to Feyre’s hips, his mouth trying to find purchase on her neck when she moved from his grip to put her palette and brush down near the canvas. Maybe if she could work in some of the same shade of purple Feyre could see in his eyes, this piece might start shaping up.

“You’re finished already? I’ve barely even made progress on this... thing. I don’t know what it is yet.” Feyre began to rifle through the paints they had to find the perfect shades to mix as she spoke. Rhysand barked a laugh, that signature smirk spreading across his perfect features. He slipped his hands into his pockets, merely watching his mate for a beat.

“Feyre darling, you’ve been here for quite a few hours now. It’s long past midnight.”

Feyre stopped in her tracks - she knew she had a tendency to get lost in her work, but had she really been stuck on this piece for that long? She immediately stopped what she was doing, hurriedly putting the paints back before crossing the room to the studio window. Leaning out of the window, she could definitely see the moon was past its peak in the sky. Before she could ruminate on it much further, Rhysand turned her around, sitting her on the windowsill before coming to stand between her legs. He rested his brow against hers, eyes boring into her with an intensity that she could never get enough of.

“I’m still stuck though, I need-”

“You need sleep.”

Feyre couldn’t help but huff slightly at him - he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Maybe. But I do need to clean up first, at least.”

With a snap of his fingers, the canvas was leaned against the wall in an out of the way corner, stool tucked under a table, paints put away - everything righted without a second thought.

“And I need to have my mate with me in our bed, lest I go insane without her.” Rhys tugged her closer with a chuckle, chest pressed against hers. Any other day, an inexplicable heat that only he could ever elict would have bloomed in her chest and shot straight to her stomach. But tonight, they were simply exhausted and Feyre couldn’t help but melt into his arms, her own moving up to slide around his neck.

“Then take me home, Rhys.”

“Always my pleasure, darling.”

She kissed him again, firm and passionate, as he winnowed them back into the warmth of their home.

The next day, she had finished her piece - a painting of legs and arms tangled amongst each other, holding one another, tangled in inky black sheets.

[littlest-w01f]

Paint

Feyre x Reader

FEYRE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Feyre decides to join Ressina at her and her friend's studios to paint

Cw: Nervous Feyre, platonic fluff

The sun was setting as Feyre packed her paints and brushes, prepared to join Ressina who had invited her to join you both, she was nervous, having never met you before but Ressina being your close friend soothed her.

Feyre had already had a talk with Rhysand, who was more than happy for her to spend time with her friends.

As the golden hues of sunset bathed the sky in its warm glow, Feyre couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation. Her heart pounded in her chest like a wild bird trapped within its cage, but she tried to push those feelings aside.

She was going to meet someone new tonight, you, someone who held a special place in Ressina's heart. Ressina, her dear friend, had been talking about you for weeks now. It seemed that you were not only talented but also kind-hearted. And despite all these praises. The smell of fresh paint still lingered on Feyre's fingers, reminding her of the hours spent painting.

Feyre's mind wandered as she thought about the late evening ahead. She was both anxious and curious, eager to see how things would unfold between herself and you. This wasn't just any old gathering, this was a meeting of artists, brought together by their shared love for creating beautiful pieces of art.

As Feyre stepped out into the Rainbow, outside Ressina's studio, the one she shared with you, she could already hear the soothing sounds of water flowing gently over stones, echoing through the place from the Sidra. It was a sound that always calmed her nerves, and it did so again today. But then, there was something else too, the faintest hint of laughter drifting on the breeze and Feyre wondered if it was you.

Stepping inside the studio, Feyre saw you immediately. You stood tall and confident, yet there was a warmth in your gaze that made her instantly comfortable. Your smile was genuine, and when you waved at her, she felt a rush of relief wash over her. Here was someone who didn't seem to care about the fact that they'd just met each other. They simply wanted to enjoy the company of another artist.

Ressina, seeing Feyre, walked up to her and gave her a warm hug. "Welcome," she said, leading Feyre towards you. "Feyre, this is y/n. y/n, this is Feyre."

The introduction was simple, but it set the tone for the rest of the night. You two started chatting easily, asking each other about your favourite colours, styles, and techniques.

Watching them interact brought a wave of comfort to you, as though Ressina's affection for Feyre served as a silent invitation into the group. With Ressina leading Feyre towards you, she introduced the newcomer. A gentle handshake was exchanged, accompanied by inquiries about personal preferences and aesthetics. The mood was light-hearted and cordial, like a welcoming embrace that immediately made strangers feel like old friends.

You couldn't deny that there was something comforting about seeing people who were seemingly comfortable with themselves, their passions, and those around them. It felt contagious, and it wasn't long before Feyre found herself falling into the conversation too. It almost seemed like everyone here knew each other well enough to engage freely.

There was no awkwardness or hesitation, just a genuine warmth that put Feyre at ease immediately. The three of you fell into easy conversation, finding common ground in art and creativity. Within minutes, it felt like you'd known each other forever.

Ressina, who was clearly delighted by the ease of the conversation, decided to take a break from painting. She moved around the room, fetching drinks and snacks for everyone. Leaving you and Feyre alone to paint.

"You're quite skilled, you know," You told Feyre, gesturing toward her painting. "What inspired you to start painting?"

Feyre blushed slightly at the compliment, but she smiled warmly as she answered. "It's hard to say exactly, painting has always been my comfort. I've always loved color and shape, and I think it was just natural for me to try painting."

"And I heard you are self taught, is that true?" You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

Feyre nodded bashfully as you gasped, "You are so wonderful to have learned yourself!"

There was an evident sincerity in your voice when you praised Feyre’s talent, causing a flush of pink to bloom across her cheeks. It was clear that your words meant more than mere compliments, they were spoken from admiration, the type that didn't need to be faked or forced.

Feyre easily confessed her love for painting, without flaunting or boasting. Instead, it was presented like the revelation of a fond secret, a source of joy that fueled the passionate pursuit of art.

Your own surprise seemed genuine as well. Learning oneself was considered a feat among skilled artists, especially since not all painters were fortunate enough to learn from mentors or experienced artists. However, despite her lack of formal training, Feyre's talent spoke volumes

"But..." you trailed off, thinking of something. Then, your face broke into a wide grin. "Maybe that's why your paintings seem so real. So raw, like a peek into your soul."

"And maybe that's why you keep painting Rhysand." You tease Feyre, motioning to the three paintings she had made of her mate and husband.

Your comment about the numerous portraits of Rhysand hung around the room to dry caused Feyre's cheeks to turn a shade of crimson that matched the sunset. She glanced down at her feet, avoiding eye contact as she chuckled nervously.

"I guess he's inspiring," she admitted with a shrug, trying to play it cool despite the obvious blush on her face. "He's got this... presence. It's impossible to ignore."

There was a momentary pause in the conversation as you really looked at the paintings. They weren't merely sketches or scribbles; each piece was carefully crafted, showing off Rhysand's strong features and piercing gaze. Each portrait captured him in different moods, one in particular with a babe, Nyx, you knew, "Also, can't help it," Feyre admitted with a shrug, trying to play down the importance of Rhysand in her life. "He's just so damn gorgeous, isn't he?" she added with a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not sure how you want me to respond to that..." You both snort softly at your statement.

"But seriously though, he's my muse. He inspires me in ways that nothing else does." Feyre sighed, and you smiled, watching her.

Ressina returned carrying a tray laden with plates of food from Rita's. The smell wafting from the dishes was mouth-watering, a mix of spices and herbs that promised flavours bursting with life. There was pasta, freshly baked bread, and a salad that looked like it was straight out of a garden.

"Hope you guys are hungry!" Ressina announced cheerfully, setting the tray down on the table. "Rita's never disappoints!"

She then turned to Feyre, handing her a plate filled with her favourite dish. "Here, Feyre. I remembered that your favourites, got you everything." She handed you yours, "And yours too, y/n!"

As Ressina served the food, Feyre thanked her with a warm smile. "Thank you, Ressina. This looks amazing!"

"You didn't have to spend money on me though..." Feyre whispered, "I'd feel bad."

"Hey, no worries. I wanted to," Ressina replied, giving Feyre a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And besides, Rita's is worth every coin. Trust me."

The three of you sat after cleaning up with a wave of your hands, chatting away and laughing all through dinner

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[popjunkie42]

Enchanted, Enthralled

I couldn't help it, Halloween weekend is upon us so I wrote you some smut as a treat.

(This is meant to be 3 chapters but tbh I do not have an ending yet, so please enjoy it as a little one-shot for now!)

Enchanted, Enthralled on A03

On a cold autumn night in Velaris, Feyre comes across a beautiful gift in her studio. But as a painting takes on a terrifying life of its own, Feyre begins to realize that not all is well. The question is: how long will her mate and friends take to notice, and will it be too late?

Or: Vampire!Feyre is let loose on an unsuspecting Rhysand.

Tags and Heads Up: Vampire!Feyre, vampire sex (with blood), dubcon (Feyre is possessed)

@rosanna-writer and @thesistersarcheron peer pressured me (they did not) and thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @xtaketwox for brainstorming with me!

Feyre wandered the streets of Velaris, chasing the fading sunlight, her boots crunching on fallen leaves.

The fall night air was chill as it twisted through the streets and snuck beneath her coat, the fabric of her skirts. Above her, the full moon hung low and heavy in the sky, its light shimmering off the cobblestones damp with mist. 

The air around her was full of the scents of autumn, of cider and smoke and mulled wine.

Feyre loved Velaris in the autumn, the brisk cold beaten back by glowing hearths and warm meals at her table. So different from before, when she was hungry, when autumn was the harbinger of winter. Of harsh times and empty pantries.

Or…after that. In endless Spring. Where all was quiet and stagnant, even in ever bloom.

She rounded a corner and took a moment to appreciate the Rainbow, glowing before her under the cold starlight. 

In the evenings, when there wasn’t dinner with the Inner Circle or some formal social event demanding a High Lady, Feyre liked to come to the studio. Knew she would have the place entirely to herself.

The door shut with the ring of a bell and she lit the fae lights in the room, the rest illuminated by the burning night lights of the city street.

The High Lady smiled as she doffed her coat and wandered through the maze of easels covered in the children’s paintings. She pulled off her gloves and scarf and set them gently down on her work bench on the far side of the room.

And paused. The usual mess was here, brushes and new supplies and paperwork and little gifts from the children. Sometimes Ressina teased her for the disorganized piles, but Feyre liked it. This was one of the few places she could spread out and destroy as well as make, without Nuala or Cerridwen or hell, even Rhys sometimes, following after her, picking up.

But what caught her eye was very out of place in the chaos. Atop the desk was a beautifully carved ornate wooden box. Though the wood was polished and immaculate, something about it screamed ancient . 

It was common enough for the children to bring her gifts, and often the parents. But never anything as grandiose as this. 

Patience never much of her strong suit, Feyre flipped the latch and lifted the heavy lid of the small chest until it hung back on its hinges.

No card, no engraving, no initials. Just twelve bottles of vibrant, fresh paint.

A soft smile played on her lips. Perhaps these were from the Continent, or one of the Master’s studios in Day? She was glad she was alone. Whoever had brought this perhaps had a sense of how embarrassed she would be, accepting such a luxurious gift.

The bottle of brilliant blue unscrewed easily and she grabbed a palette knife to mix the heavy pigment back in with the clear binder floating on top.

It was…mesmerizing. Bright and almost glowing. She wondered where they ever found the pigments to make something so otherworldly.

There was a lightness in her chest as she looked at the other bottles, each as vibrant and rich as the first. She had come here to paint, after all.

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

The city streets outside were bursting with life, even in the chill. The sounds of conversation and the clap of shoes against the cobblestones grew as patrons left the latest show out at the theater up the street. Music swelled from the city square just beyond, and street vendors hawked their wares.

But when Feyre painted, it all faded into the background.

For too long, she thought, shaking her head as if from a dream. She arched her back and groaned at the crick forming from her bad posture.

Her brush dunked in the water glass beside her as she rubbed her stiff neck. Had it really been so long? She was mixing the paints, brushing on a tinted under layer, and then…

Finally her eyes returned to her canvas and she gasped.

Sworls of choppy blue, green and white centered the canvas, looking like rippling waves. She could have sworn they moved. And around them, bands and bands of dark black. A frame. A mirror. A door.

She didn’t remember painting a single stroke.

The painting seemed to ripple again, and maybe it was the light but she could have sworn…there was something behind the brush strokes, depths upon hidden depths.

She felt a familiar feeling, a dread in her belly and prickling of her skin. So like those first steps Under the Mountain, tiptoeing and peeking around each corner, knowing something terrible was inevitable around one of them.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The sounds of the street faded away again as her eyes focused and unfocused. Feyre felt her arm lift, her fingers picking up a brush. As if on its own. She took a dab of paint and the world faded away.

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

The second time, she still didn’t know how long she had been under. Because that’s what it felt like, thrashing under deep waves, being tossed back and forth. And somewhere, deeper still, a voice. Soothing and gentle. Telling her, just let go. 

Sink .

-Darling?

It was the voice of her mate that brought her back with a start.

-What are you up to? I’ll be winnowing back from the camp soon.

-I’ll meet you at home, she quickly sent down the bond.

The painting had changed. Her heart pounded between her ribs.

Looking back at her was a single slitted eye, red as hot coals. 

And she heard it whisper,

Sink .

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

Rhys panted as he rolled his hips upward, the chill night breeze from the cracked window doing little to cool the heat of his skin, dripping with sweat. 

Above him Feyre moaned, her hips grinding against his, her head tilting back to the ceiling with her mouth parted, tasting the air.

Only a single candle lit the room from the bedside table. The cold moonlight cast in, a sharp line through the curtain, the silver light piercing over her neck, her peaked breasts.

Rhys’s eyes were wide. Enchanted . She was so fierce and free tonight, taking everything she wanted. Feyre moved on him, her hand lifting to grasp her breast and he gasped as she clenched tighter around him.

She had been rough tonight, desperate. Throwing him against the wall and ripping away his fine black jacket the moment he stepped into the bedroom. He had barely had time to grin, to tease her for her lascivious hands and lips until he was thrown onto the bed, his clothes roughly stripped from his body.

He gripped her hips, trying to guide his body deeper into her. His pleasure was a wild, feral thing, setting off sparks in his mind the more he felt the wanton drag of his cock through her slick wetness.

Feyre opened her mouth in a gasp as her back arched, the light catching on her pointed canines. Her hands went to cover his on her hips, and he felt her talons growing and scratching against his skin.

Though he was inside her, touching her everywhere, his body only cried out more, more.

Her skin was pale, almost blue in the moonlight, but her body was burning, scorching him under his palms and where they were joined at the hip.

Through his lusty haze, he felt the sudden pangs of a hunger so desperate the breath caught in his throat.

Feyre whimpered, a delicious sound, and leaned forward on her knees to pitch towards him and suckle at the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Rhys,” she panted. Her voice was deep, desperate. “I’m so hungry.”

He gasped as the feeling struck him down the bond, her aching emptiness traveling through the golden tether between them and gripping his heart.

Between his pleasure he felt the flashes, of a girl starving and cold in the woods, of moldy bread in a dank prison cell. All the times she was alone and he hadn’t been there to provide. It was driving him mad. He felt the urge to let his power rise, to turn back the sun and moon in the sky until he was there every moment she was alone and desperate and surround her with his wings. To place delectable morsels on her waiting tongue, let her suck the taste from his fingers.

That tongue was lapping against his neck, licking off beads of sweat, replaced by the scrape of her teeth, sharp against his skin.

Though she was in his arms, her cunt fluttering around him, his heart was breaking with her hunger, her need. His mate was starving. A primal urge rose within him, to provide, to satiate. 

“Darling ,” he cried, his voice breaking. “What do you need? Tell me,” he pleaded, his arms wrapping around her back, hot and slick with sweat.

She nipped at his neck. “ I’m so hungry,” she said again, nuzzling at his throat.

“Yes, yes,” he cried. As if he could, would ever deny her anything. Certainly not with his cock buried deep inside her and her voice this needy whine. “Take what you need,” he whispered into the dark.

Her body stilled at that and his own cried out at the lack of friction. But he felt her smile against his neck, and then her teeth scraped, and then she was biting, her sharp canines piercing through his flesh to reach his hammering pulse beneath it.

All feeling in his body rushed, like an errant wave, and he came with a hoarse cry as he spilled himself inside of her.

His vision is blurred and his mind is hazy as he comes down from his climax, the thoughts filtering through his mind like wandering clouds across the night sky. Feyre’s mouth is hot against his neck, a heady, burning sensation running down from her lips to his limbs, his body tingling. The feelings down the bond are glowing, warm, thankful. 

Instead of relaxing back into the bed, his body, he feels he’s moving up, and up, floating above the mattress. He feels a drip of something, blood or sweat, escape Feyre’s lips and travel down the muscles of his neck. Her teeth are sharp but her mouth is warm, her tongue dancing over his skin.

And oh, she’s so content. She hums against him, the sound reverberating through his neck to his skull. She’s taking and taking and all he wants is to give her more, to fill her up. She pierced his skin and all his strength, the swirling madness of his darkness rushed out to satiate her need.

She sucks harder and he feels his limbs going loose and light, his whole body weightless and attuned to every place they are connected. He groans with her ecstasy, her joy. Gone is the starving human girl in the forest, bitter and trembling. He is feeding his mate, his Feyre, and here on top of him she is safe and warm.

Just when his body feels like it might sink, might fall through the mattress and into whatever dark earth lies beneath it, she breaks from his neck with a gasp.

Feyre throws her head back towards the ceiling, panting, the moonlight cascading down her body once again. He watches, enraptured, feeling like he’s outside of his body, vaguely charting the dribble of blood dripping from her lips to her chin to her throat, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone.

He is so tired now. He files the vision of her blood stained teeth deep within him for another time. All he feels now is her pleased murmurings across the bond. A deep humming contentment in his chest. The male, now content, who dreamt sometimes about that ancient High Lord, dashing his body and blood against the stone streets of Velaris, to keep it safe. 

He groaned as she slipped off of him, but his hands wouldn’t quite work the way he wanted them to. The mattress dipping beside him as she collapsed. She was still breathing heavily, licking her lips. He turned his head and wished she would do the same, needing to drink in more of her.

And finally she did. She looked at him and smiled, a glint in her eyes that was strange but, her smile, that was enough to send a shiver down his body. His eyelids heavy, he smiled back.

“Are you happy, darling?” He whispered.

Safe and warm and fed.

Her smile widened as his eyes slowly drooped. A buzzing in the back of his head was the only thing keeping him from slipping away completely. His mind clung to the feel of her sharp talons, softly scraping against his skin. Drops of blood pooled with her sweat and finally drifted across her collarbone and down her shoulder.

“I’m so happy,” she said, and he fell into the darkness with a soft sigh. “You taste so good, my love.”

[moonlightazriel]

Monster /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel always saw himself as a monster, but his new found mate was there to show him that he was wrong.

Warnings: None, maybe a little bit of angsty.

Word Count: 2,8K

Notes: Adventure time is one of my favorite cartoons, and this is one of the best songs Marceline ever sang in the show, i knew from the moment i decided to do this project that this song fitted Azriel and i wanted to write it.

Song week

Main Masterlist

I know we'll never grow old together 'Cause you'll never grow old to me You're the pink in my cheeks And I'm scared 'cause that means I'm a little bit soft

Azriel looked at the female in front of him, her big eyes looking at him so intensely that he shifted from a feet to another, uncomfortable as she kept quiet, the anxiety building up in his chest, he tried to hold back, keep it for himself, tried not let her feel in their newly found bond. The golden thread, tethering them together for the rest of their lives, glowed brighter as she explored it, he could feel the pull in his chest, pulling him straight to her arms.

He was afraid, his mind racing, he stood still, unaware that her eyes sparkled even brighter than the connection between them, just like him, Y/N have dreamed of this moment, longing for the feeling her friends and sisters have described, she grew up seeing what the mating bond was capable to do, how happy her parents were, how they loved each other like there was no one else in the world for them, like they were each others whole universe.

She never lost her hope of finding her other half, her equal in every way, even as she grew older and her past experiences with love weren’t that good, she imagined how they would met, how he or she looked like, what their children would look like, if they were going to be happy to have her as a mate. She knew that there was something special about Azriel the second he stepped on Feyre’s gallery, she have been friends with Polina and Ressina for a really long time, the passion for art brought them together, but with Polina’s passing during the attack on the city, things never have been the same.

When Feyre offered the two a place in the gallery, Y/N and Ressina were more than welcoming to her idea, Feyre would never replace Polina but her friendship was something Y/N cherished with all of her heart, the High Lady was kind, attentive with everyone and really talented so she fit just right with the two other artists. Sina and Fey were in the back when Azriel visited the studio for the first time, Y/N was sitting in front of her canvas, painting the night sky, her hands and face were covered in shades of dark blue, purple and black, she was so distracted that she didn’t noticed the shadowsinger entering, his eyes looking everywhere, both admiring the space and looking for his High Lady.

He caught the soft sound of the brush, his eyes falling on the pretty female sitting behind a huge canvas, he walked a little to the side, now he could see her fully, she was wearing a stained apron, underneath, black pants and a huge sweater covered her body, her hair was up in a bun with a few loose strand falling on her face, she moved her dirty hand, removing the hair from her eyes, staining her face with a purple line in the process, he then noticed the points of color she had on her face, probably from doing the same thing a few times. She was the prettiest female he had ever laid his eyes on, and suddenly he recognized her.

His eyes widened a little, she was the female he had saw in this same street, rushing people inside the stores, running with a kid in her arms, making sure she saved as many people she could save. He cleared his throat, trying not to startle her, she lift her eyes to him, drinking in the sight of the Spymaster from the night court, of course she knew who he was, but she never had saw him so close to her, she noticed his hazel eyes and how they carried a tint of gold when he looked at her, his fluffy black hair underneath a beanie, the snowflakes covering his heavy coat and his boots.

“Hi, you must be Azriel.” Her voice was soft, calming, a weird feeling of peace washed over him and all he wanted to do was hear her talking again. She got up, walking towards him, extending her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He looked at her hand, covered in paint, she looked at it too, ready to pull her hand back when Azriel gloved hand held hers, shaking it.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N, have you seen Feyre?” His voice sent shivers down her spine, even with a glove on she could feel a spark of electricity as they held hands, it was briefly but she couldn’t help thinking if he felt the same, she looked for any indication in his face but found nothing.

“She’s in the back, you will find her that way.” She said, retrieving her hand quickly, he thanked her and walked towards the direction she indicated, leaving her alone with a tingly in her hand, the one she was holding close to her heart.

But don't beat yourself up Bonnie It wasn't just the Sun that I was hiding from We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live And I'm still scared that I'm not good enough

He kept finding reasons to go the studio, no one understood at first why he wanted to go there so bad until Feyre invited the inner circle over, the three artists were waiting for them with pastries and tea, Fey was so excited for her family to meet her new friends, she was a really happier version of herself around Y/N and Sina. It took one look at the shadowsinger when Y/N approached him for them to know that she was the reason behind the changing in his behavior. All of them noticed Azriel tensed shoulders at her presence and how his eyes followed her everywhere she went, they also noticed how she smiled brighter to him than she did to the others, of course she was really nice to them but with Azriel was just something else.

He couldn’t help how his heart would hammer against his chest whenever she smiled at him, he couldn’t even count how many times he had to hold himself from cupping her face between his hands and kiss her, he wanted so badly but he knew he was undeserving, he didn’t dare touch her and ruin her pureness and innocence, she was an angel, he wasn’t good enough for her and would never be no matter how bad he tried.

She was light, while he was darkness, he knew she was just being nice to him, so he stopped visiting for a while, he wanted to protect his heart, he had suffered enough in his life, he didn’t need any more suffering, but he felt empty, alone, like something was missing from his chest, like he didn’t have a heart anymore, his heart now belonged to her, he felt like a hollow shell when she wasn’t around, he was firm in his decision even if this meant that he would end up miserable, he didn’t care, he just needed to stay away until this feeling vanished and he could go back to his normal self.

But it wasn’t any easier for her either, she noticed his absence and it was like she was being trapped under water, she has known Azriel for only a few months but now she felt like he was her air, and it was impossible to breath with him gone, her friends noticed how she looked after a few weeks, she smiled at them but it wasn’t like before, they saw how every time the door opened she would look up quickly and drop her gaze when she saw that it wasn’t Azriel there. Feyre and Sina were worried for their friend, trying to cheer her up but nothing seemed to work.

“Feyre.” Y/N came to her one day, her voice low as she looked at the blonde. “If you see Azriel, tell him that I miss having tea with him.” Feyre noticed her eyes filled with tears and her heart broke for her friend, it was obvious that Y/N had feeling for him, and he deliberately decided to ignore her? Feyre felt angry with his behavior, but she felt even angrier with the next words that dropped from Y/N’s mouth. “And please, tell him that if I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

I've always felt like a Monster Long before I was bit But only seen as a monster Let's just say I'm used to it

Ever since he was a little kid, people would treat him like he didn’t deserved any happiness and goodness, and as he grew up, with his job and all the dirty things he did, he knew they were right. He always felt like a monster, but he tried to brush this thought aside, it was impossible to do it though, when one day Feyre came to Rhys’s office, she knew the two of them were in there, she stormed in, her hands on her waist and a disappointed look on her face.

“What’s your problem Azriel?” He looked at her, honestly confused, she never talked to him like this. “You decided to give Y/N all of your attention, treated her good to disappear? She’s been so sad, she’s nothing like she used to be cuz she misses you.” Azriel blinked a couple of times, she missed him. “She came to me today and do you know what she asked me?” He denied, he felt small under his High Lady’s harsh gaze, he resisted the urge to cringe in his seat. “To tell you that if she’s done something wrong, she’s sorry for it. She thinks it’s her fault that you vanished in thin air, so if you have a fucking problem with her, be a grown up man and solve it with her so she can be herself again.”

Feyre left short after, Rhysand gave him an apologetic look, he knew why his brother decided to distance himself from Y/N, he tapped on Azriel’s shoulder before going after his mate. Azriel sunk further into his seat, he felt worse to know he was hurting her than he ever felt torturing someone in the chambers underneath the Hewn City. He knew what he should do, grabbing his coat, he left in a rush, something told him exactly where to find her, he ran until his legs protested and his lungs were claiming for air, his shadows a blurry behind him.

“She’s inside.” Sina told him as he stopped at the front door of the gallery, she didn’t looked harshly at him like Feyre did, instead, she grabbed his hand and looked at him in the eyes. “I’ve heard that the shadowsinger of the night court has a lot of problems expressing his feelings, don’t let her go Azriel, Y/N is unique and deserve to find love, don’t go in there if you’re not sure about your feelings.” Her words hit him deeper and he nodded, he was more than sure and was ready to claim her back. Sina smiled at him shaking her head approvingly. “Then go there and bring our girl back.”

He opened the door slowly, his breath uneven as the thought rushed in his mind,his heart was a drum in his chest, she was cleaning her space, the door closed behind him, the sound soft but she heard anyway.

“You can go home Sina, it’s going to take a while here.” Her head turned to his direction, she looked at him surprised, her heart stopping, he looked as beautiful as ever, his characteristic scent hit her nostril, she sniffed, letting the aroma mess with her head and her heart. “Oh, hello Azriel.” Her tone was heavy with sadness and he felt his heart breaking at the sound, she wasn’t like this and knowing that it was his fault made him feel guilty.

And I grew tough 'cause love had only hurt me back But loving you is a good problem to have

And I'm used to that, but I could get used to this Yeah I'm used to that, but I could get used to this

“I’m sorry I disappeared.” He blurted out, barely holding himself, his feet carrying him towards her, she looked even more surprised and leaned in the desk behind her, crossing her arms in front of her chest while she waited for him to continue. “I was scared.” He sounded small as he confession slip through his lips.

“Of what?” She rose an eyebrow and pressed her lips on a thin line.

“Whatever was happening between us, I’ve been in love with the same female for centuries, until I realized that she was never going to reciprocate what I felt. Every single time I reminded myself that I wasn’t worth loving and that this kind of thing just wasn’t for me, I was afraid of this…” He gesticulated between them he felt weird being so direct about his feelings but Sina’s words ringed on his head, so he kept going. “Because all that love has ever brought me was pain, I was trying to protect myself and I was foolish to think I could hide forever from this feeling, from you. You may feel the same or not but I just wanted you to know, you deserved the truth.” He was panting after he finished and a silent tear fell down her cheek, he was looking anywhere but her when he talked, but when his eyes lifted to meet hers, he felt it.

They both gasped at the same time, the mating bond was something special, unique, but it was even rare when it snapped for both mates at the same time, Azriel felt like he was being punched in the stomach, all the air left his lungs, the line between them was so clear that he extended his hand, trying to touch it.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.” The look in Y/N’s eyes changed, the joy fading and give space to anger, how dared he say such a thing when she couldn’t be happier that he was the one for her?

“Don’t you dare saying this ever again.” He looked at her, she was being serious, the burning in her gaze so strong that he could feel the heat.

“But you deserve someone good for you!”

“And who would be better than my freaking mate? Azriel you're my equal, my other half, the perfect match for me, can’t you see it?” She asked him in disbelief.

“Just because the Mother said?” He asked, now he was the one who was angry, she would never be like him, she would never be a monster.

“Because I know ever since I first touched you.” She yelled, stepping forward and running to the back of the studio, Azriel felt confused but she got back quickly, holding a big canvas, the anger faded as he looked at the portrait. “Because this is how a see you, no matter what you have done, you’re perfect to me.” He touched the paint, he never considered himself the prettiest of the males, but through her eyes, he was beautiful, he was pure, he was lovable. “I painted this after our first meeting, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. No matter how I tried to think about something else, you were in every thought that crossed my mind, from that day to this.”

And I know we'll never grow old together 'Cause you'll never grow old to me You're the pink in my cheeks And I love that it means I'm a little bit soft

“You may not want this, because you think you don’t deserve a mate, but if you change your mind, I’ll be happy to wait for you.” Azriel blushed, his tough facade breaking as he stepped closer to her, cupping her face with his scarred hands, his lips met hers and he melted away, he kissed her like the world was about to end, they kissed until they needed air, they separated, both gasped for air, her lips were swollen and red.

“I never wanted something more than I want this.” He whispered and she nodded, turning away from him, leaving him confused, standing in the middle of the room, when she got back, Azriel almost collapsed on the ground, his knees felt weak and he could feel his body shaking, she was holding a plate filled with food and walking towards him. “Are you sure?” He asked one more time as she offered him the food.

“I’m sure, more than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” She grabbed a cookie, bringing it to Azriel’s lips, he opened his mouth, taking a bite from the dessert, they felt it at the same time, how the bond seemed alive and the love pouring from them both. “My mate.” She whispered to him.

“My mate.” He whispered back, for once feeling like he was getting everything he deserved in life.

You're the pink in my cheeks And I love that it means I'm a little bit soft

[shallyne]

"Rumor has it you are a fine artist."

Not just a rumor, Ressina. She is

Acofas chapter 4

[dreamlandreader]

Artistic Differences

Summery: Inspired by Feyre’s love of art, Rhysand tries to pick up a new skill in time for his mates birthday. However, despite his best efforts things don’t quite go to plan.

Warnings: N/A

A/n: This is the first fic I’ve ever posted, but there is surely no better place to start than during @officialfeysandweek2023 - this is inspired by the day 2 prompt ‘hobbies’. This is the second time I’ve posted this fic today because I got nervous that it wasn’t good enough and talked myself out of leaving it up. However, after a bit of kindness and encouragement I feel more confident to repost. ❤️

Word Count: 1459

The High Lord of the Night Court was talented in many ways. He excelled at strategic thinking having honed his mind from a young age, he was proficient in masking his true intentions from his enemies and he had earned his reputation as a fearsome and highly skilled opponent on the battlefield through his training as an Illyrian warrior. However, whilst the High Lord was an incredibly gifted male in most areas it was becoming increasingly apparent that his talents did not extend into the realms of creative genius.

“It’s awful isn’t it?” Rhysand winced, hiding his head in his hands and avoiding all eye contact with the dreadful object before him.

“It’s certainly … different,” Ressina replied, tilting her head to one side and squinting as though a different view would provide a better result. “I’m sure Feyre has nothing quite like it. That is what you wanted isn’t it? To give her something unique?”

“Yes. Unique. Not unbelievably ugly.” Rhys retorted, and then groaned as he caught sight of the object in question once more.

Rhys had been secretly meeting with Ressina for weeks. With the Winter Solstice and Feyre’s birthday quickly approaching Rhys had decided to surprise his mate with a gift she would never expect.

Whilst he still planned to lavish Feyre with the best gifts Prythian had to offer, he had also noticed that every year she seemed to favour not the most expensive gift in the pile, but the one which had the most thought put into it. It was this, which for the first time in his 500 years, had inspired Rhysand to make a something by hand.

Inspired by his mate’s love of art, Rhys had paid Ressina for private tutoring, and after deciding a vase would make a nice addition to the creations Feyre had already added to the river house, she began to to teach Rhys everything she knew about ceramics. After weeks of practice, in which Rhys realised he did not have a creative bone in his body, he was finally looking at the finished product, and it was a disaster.

The vase, if one could call it that, had a wonky rim and several dips where Rhys had nearly put his fingers through the clay in frustration. Ressina promised him that it would look better once it had been painted, but the beautiful pattern he had in his mind did not come to fruition. Instead the end result was merely a jumble of clashing colours and smudged disappointment. He could absolutely not give this to his mate.

“She’s going to hate it,” Rhys cried, finally looking Ressina in the eyes with desperation, sheer panic taking over his body. “She’ll leave me! She will take one look at it and walk out of the front door!”

Ressina rolled her eyes at that comment. This man and his dramatics.

“No she won’t. Okay it isn’t what you had in mind but you still created something out of nothing. Before you started it was a cold, bland lump of clay and now you’ve made it into something warm.”

‘Warm?’ Rhys quizzed sceptically, his dark brows furrowing in confusion.

‘Yes! Warm! You put your love into it, you breathed life into it. Feyre will love it, because she loves you.’

With Ressina’s pep talk in mind Rhys set about boxing up and wrapping the vase up in pretty paper, and left with a little more belief in his gift than he had when he first arrived at the studio. By the time he returned home however, Rhys’s new found confidence was beginning to waver, and by the time the sun woke him the next morning any residual trust in his gift giving abilities had disappeared with the night sky.

Ignoring his worry Rhys gently eased himself out of Feyre’s embrace, and tiptoed across their bedroom, carefully slipping out into the hallway towards his sons room to get him ready to surprise his mother with breakfast in bed.

Feyre awoke with a start as her excited little boy flung himself onto the bed and squealed “Happy Birthday Mama!” Nyx squealed as loud as his lungs would allow him. Before Feyre could respond, her toddler grabs her face with chubby hands, placing a sloppy birthday kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you baby!” Feyre chuckles, brushing her sons hair out of his eyes. He never looked more like his father than first thing in the morning with bleary eyes and crazy bed hair.

“Presents Mama!”

“Yes, we all get presents today don’t we, it’s Solstice remember.”

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, “but Daddy said you has to go first.”

‘Is that right, huh?’, Feyre asked as she began to tickle Nyx, the room filling with laughter. Rhysand watched from the doorway, grinning to himself at the look of pure joy on his mates face as she giggled with their son.

“Happy birthday darling,” Rhys said, bending down to press a kiss to the side of Feyre’s head. Placing a tray of tea and pastries on her nightstand, and dropping an armful of gifts on the end of the bed, Rhys nervously said “Hey Nyxie, why don’t you show Mama what you made her.’

After Feyre had teared up over Nyx’s finger painted card, and had adamantly put on the horrifically gaudy earrings that her son insisted Rhys must buy for her birthday, it was time for Feyre to open the main gift from her mate. Rhys tentatively passed the neatly wrapped box over and tried his best not to cringe as Feyre tore open the paper to reveal the lopsided vase.

“Oh Rhys, it’s lovely,” Feyre crooned, holding the vase at eye level and inspecting it much closer that Rhysand would have liked, “How did you manage to get this one to stay still long enough to try his hand at pottery!”

“That’s from Daddy!” Nyx stated, clearing his name of any involvement in the creation of the poorly made object. Rhys grimaced as Feyre’s eyes widened in surprise and she met his eyes.

“Yep,” Rhys declared “that one is all me.”

“Oh well it’s … it’s lovely Rhys! You made it? With your hands? From scratch?”

“Yes. I know. It’s awful, I wanted to do something special, to make something that had thought put into it,” Rhys said quietly, a rare look of insecurity on his face. “Ressina has been trying to teach me how make a damn vase for weeks, I thought you would be excited to see that I had tried my hand at art since you love it so much. But, it was clearly an incredibly stupid idea. I’m sorry, we can just throw it away, I’ll take you shopping next week to make up for it.”

“No Rhys, I love it!” Feyre replied putting the vase down and reaching for her mates hand.

“It’s fine Feyre, I know it’s atrocious, you don’t have to worry about my feelings.”

Rhys picked the vase up from Feyre’s lap and walked over to the log fire burning at the end of their bed. Just as he bent to throw his creation into the flames, his mate flew out of bed and exclaimed “RHYSAND! DON’T YOU DARE!”

Feyre threw out her water powers and doused the fire, splashing Rhys in the process and earning sounds of admiration from her son who always loved to watch his parents magic.

“Uh oh, Mama is mad at you Daddy!” giggled Nyx, as Feyre sculpted a small watery cat who instantly jumped onto her son’s lap and began to lick its paws.

“You … you really want to keep it?” Rhys said, as Feyre walked across the room to him and took the vase from his hands, placing it carefully on her vanity.

“Rhys I love it! I want to keep it.”

“But why, when it is so unsightly!”

“Do think these earrings are cute, Rhys?” Feyre whispered, pointing to the garish jewels hanging from her earlobes, whilst Nyx was distracted by purring at his new friend. “No, they aren’t! They are incredibly ugly. But I love them, because my baby picked them out for me,”

“You clearly put so much time into this gift Rhys. You put your heart into it because you knew that art is something that I care about. You took interest in it because you love me, and that is the best present anyone could ever give me.”

Leaning in Feyre wrapped her arms around Rhys, kissing him gently and sending such a rush of happiness down the bond that he thought his heart would burst.

“Mama can I open my presents now!” Nyx cried impatiently, not impressed by his parents becoming so easily distracted.

“Come on then sweetheart,” Feyre laughed, taking Rhys’s hand and walking back over to the bed, “Lets see what you’ve got.”

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3

Summary: Feyre takes some time to talk to one of her more reserved students, unveiling an adorable. yet heartbreaking Christmas wish.

OR

Rhys' little sister gets him a girlfriend.

“Three, two—” The bell above the studio door chimed and Ressina swept out from behind the front counter to greet the first arrivals for the evening class. A rambunctious pair of boys, ages eight and five. “Hello, my lovelies, I’ve missed you!”

Ressina was wonderful with the kids and had a particular fondness for greeting the younger classes and getting them settled. Turning away, Feyre finished setting out the paint and water before sitting down to start a few designs in pencil for the children to paint over. Elves, gingerbread men, angels, and snowmen. She’d need to draw a few more once the little ones had picked out what they wanted to draw, but it was good to get a little extra done before the place turned into a madhouse. 

It didn’t take long for all ten students to arrive, crowding into the studio and stripping out of their winter coats before sitting down at the table. The parents—and brother, in little Avyanna’s case—were left to line the walls, conversing among themselves. “What’s that, Ms. Feyre?”

She smiled. Avy was the meekest voice of the group, a bit wary of the children around her, though she’d seen her laughing with a few of the other girls on occasion and she seemed to be making better social progress with each class. “We’ll be painting ornaments today. You get to pick your favorite design and paint it whatever colors you want. Then Miss Ressina and I will dry it here and give you some pretty ribbon when you come back next week so you can hang it on your tree for your family to enjoy.”

Her eyes widened, lighting up with excitement. “I’d like an angel. Please.”

Feyre gave her another warm smile. “I’ll set this in your spot. Go grab an apron so you don’t stain that pretty shirt.”

“I appreciate the foresight you ladies have for that.” 

Feyre jumped, turning to face the new speaker. At least after two months of classes she could keep from blushing like a fool around him. “Sorry. I didn't notice you Mr. Axton—”

“I think we’ve attended enough lessons to justify you calling me Rhys. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to head outside for a moment to make a call, if that’s alright?” 

“Of course. We’re all set here if you need to step out. She’ll be fine.”

“Excellent. Pardon me.” Ruffling his sister’s hair, he stepped back out into the cold, pressing the phone to his ear, a scowl on his face the next time he spoke.

“Do you like my brother?” Avy asked the next time she circled back to their group. A bit startled by the subject, she hesitated to answer. “He likes you, you know.” The statement was out of the blue, an absent thought as she started to paint the angel wings as precisely as any six year old could. “He doesn’t talk about it, but he watches you while we’re here. I think it would make him happy if you went on a date. Happier than he is now, at least.” She had a solemn look about her, her shoulders curving in slightly. “That’s all I want this Christmas. For him to do something that makes him happy.”

While the other children around them were distracted with each other and their art, the parents in hearing range had been following the one sided conversation and were either looking on with amusement at Feyre’s awkwardness or pity for the girl’s homelife. She couldn’t imagine it was easy, going into the holidays just months after losing their parents to a fatal highway crash. 

And how does one tell an elementary-schooler you can’t make people happy by dropping them into a spontaneous date with a stranger. “Sweetheart, I think you and your brother are going to have an amazing Christmas together, especially if you’re with those uncles you keep telling me about.”

“Just wait til he gets back. You’ll see.”

~~~~~

Even smudged with paint and charcoal, the shop owner was gorgeous. Gorgeous and amazing with his sister, which did nothing to help how distracted he was today, trying and failing to tune into the nonsense his uncle was spewing in his ear. “Your parents are dead, Rhysand. If you don’t get a move on—”

“Tell me again, Kier, how I should run this business more like my father. I’m dying for a reason to kick you off the board for good.” Silence. “You’d do well to remember who this company was bequeathed to.”

“Of course, Rhysand,” he ground out. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Then don’t. Get me the contract I requested. I’ll review it in the morning.” 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, rolling his neck as he calmed himself. If there was one thing he prided himself on it was not letting this shitstorm bleed into his time with his little sister. She was still too young to understand the truth behind a lot that had happened in their life. A mercy and curse, as he was left to question how long he could live with himself, telling her their parents’ car crash was a highway accident.

It was the right call for now, but as her guardian, he still felt like shit. He looked back through the window, spotting Avy in the middle of the table, quiet and reserved among her peers. It was a work in progress, breaking the six-year-old of their father’s rigid teachings, but he had seen glimpses of the rowdy kid she could be once she realized it wouldn’t get her in trouble. 

He pushed back into the art studio, removing his jacket and taking the empty seat beside Avyanna. “How’s it going, Avy?”

“Good. Ms. Feyre’s been helping me. She did the pencil part, see,” she showed him, tracing her finger over the cartoonish pencil marks that outlined the angel design Avy had chosen. She frowned, setting her paintbrush on her paper towel. “Was that Uncle Keir again? You didn’t look happy outside.”

“Ah, I fixed what needed to be fixed. No trouble in sight. What are you painting?”

She was quiet for a moment, likely trying to determine if he was hiding something that should be her business. “An ornament. Miss Ressina has some pretty ribbon we can hang them with so I can take it home and put it on the tree.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Avy.”

“How are we doing over here?” Feyre asked the cluster of children, immediately receiving overlapping progress reports on various snowmen, angels, elves, and gingerbread men. 

His sister was still as a statue, looking almost guilty as her instructor checked the paint and water cups around the table. Both of them were doing an excellent job of refusing to make eye contact with him, and Rhys found himself missing the fleeting-yet-bright smile the art teacher normally gifted him once or twice a lesson. 

Avy was far too well-behaved to have made any trouble for the two women leading the weekly lessons and Feyre seemed naturally at ease with parents and students alike. Whatever had shifted would need to be addressed, but it could wait until they weren’t dealing with eavesdroppers. 

“You don’t have to hover, you know,” his sister said, a bit of snark rising in companionship to that guilt. “I can paint on my own.”

Rhys frowned, but respected her request, walking back around the table to stand on the opposite wall. “What am I missing here?” he muttered. 

A father to his right chuckled. “Other than your sister telling Feyre you have a crush on her loud enough for the room to hear, nothing much.”

“Oh, is that all?” His eyes slid back to Feyre. Though she had likely brushed off the prospect of a date with him, something had been said that was weighing her down and it didn’t seem to lift for the rest of the lesson. He honestly didn’t care what the other guardians thought about him staying after they had all shuffled out. “Avy, put on your coat and wait by the door for me, okay?”

“Are you  asking Ms. Feyre on a date?”

“Avyanna, door.” She scampered away and he let out a long sigh, earning a chuckle from Ressina. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Feyre, come out here for a moment.”

“Yeah, what’s… up. Hi, Mr.—” He clicked his tongue softly. Feyre sighed in surrender. “Rhys, what can I do for you?”

Ressina was courteous enough to take up whatever was left in the back, leaving Feyre and Rhys with only a six year old for company. “This evening, it came to my attention that my sister made some insinuations that caused you discomfort.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “No!” Blushing, she cleared her throat, stating more calmly, “No, it wasn’t uncomfortable. I just didn’t want to get her hopes up. I didn’t think there was much substance behind…”

“A six-year-old’s second-hand love proclamations?”

She bit her lip. “Something like that. She just… She said it was her Christmas wish for you to be happy. I didn’t want her thinking a good holiday season hinged on romance.”

He swallowed. Did he really come off as someone so miserable Avy said this was her Christmas wish? The business demands were putting him through the wringer, but he thought he was better at wearing a mask. “I appreciate that. All the same though, if you weren’t currently seeing someone… more accurately, if you were interested in going out… Are you free on Saturday?”

Feyre chewed her lip. “Are you asking me because you want to ask me, or just to appease a six-year-old, because I won’t be part of something that—”

He waived his hand in a motion ment to cut off her concern. “If I didn’t have feelings for you I would have nipped this in the bud and left the studio as soon as her ornament was set to dry. I like you, Feyre. So what do you say?”

“Saturday. Can you pick me up from here?”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[nikethestatue]

If Ressina and Emerie aren't getting a book, then neither is Gwyn.

If Rhys and Cassian didn't get a book, then neither will Azriel. Or Lucien.

If Feyre and Nesta got books, so will Elain.

Simple really.