#modern feysand au

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

A modern Feysand au where Rhys just took over his father's company and is trying to make it his own. So, he's creating new job titles, firing people who only work there because of nepotism, and in his free time, he likes buying paintings from CursebreakerArt.com to decorate and liven the building up.

Feyre is a struggling artist who is only able to afford rent because some random guy keeps ordering from her shop and she's not complaining, but he's bought so many, and who needs that many paintings?

One day, after mailing the latest orders out, Feyre decides to walk around the city and eventually notices the help wanted flyers for Velaris Co. everywhere she looks. She's curious. She's heard of this company before, and apparently, the ceo is an absolute prick, but the pay and benefits are supposed to be fantastic. So, she takes a flyer, and after a few days of no new orders, schedules an interview.

Rhys goes through the list of the days scheduled interviews. Normally, a ceo would be too busy to conduct interviews on their own, but he wants to show he's different from his father, and he wants to know every employee as a friend, not just someone who works for him. He scans through the list, and one name suddenly catches his attention. Feyre Archeron. He knows that name. He's seen that name elegantly signed on almost every painting on this floor and has seen it scribbled on a little thank you note that comes with each order. Feyre Archeron, creator of CursebreakerArt.com, is interviewing at his company that afternoon.

Feyre walks into the interview room slowly, suddenly self-conscious about her paint stained sweater and leggings. This place was really nice and really professional. She was way in over her head to even think of trying this! She should have washed the paint out from under her nails! She should have worn a pencil skirt and blouse!

Feyre's thoughts are cut short when Rhys enters the room and then suddenly stops. Then, their just staring at each other in silence. Feyre thinks Rhys is not only the handsomest man she's ever seen but that he must also be appalled by her appearance and it was definitely a mistake to come here.

Rhys, on the other hand, was 100% prepared to gush about how much he loves her work, that is, until the moment he actually saw her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had not been ready for that at all.

Feyre gets up, starting to apologize for wasting his time, saying she'll see herself out, but Rhys stops her with only two words. "You're perfect."

Feyre blushes fiercely, then Rhys clears his throat and begins talking to cover up what he just said.

"For the job. You're perfect for the job. You see, a lot of my employees have young children who spend the day in our care center or go there after school. I was hoping to hire some new employees, people who are passionate about something like art, cooking, or music to come in to spend time with the children during the day and teach them."

"I see... and you think I'm perfect for that job from just one look at me? Without even looking at my portfolio?"

"Ms. Archeron, off all the interviews I've conducted today, you have been the only one to dress appropriately for children and not an office. You're covered in paint, so you're clearly passionate, and I already have most of your portfolio hanging in my office or in the hallways."

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

I'm listening!

Hear me out: business exec Rhys versus the graffiti artist that keeps tagging his building

[crimsonbluesoul]

Post-workout mirror selfie 📸

[potatoplace]

Mastermind - Part 2

Dark!Feysand x Reader

Part 1 | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: non-con, abduction, being kept prisoner, smut, drug use (pot)

Words: ~5k

Author's Note: it's here! Feyre... you live in my head rent free so often... also this is just like a purely self indulgent fic at this point, I think it'll be a mini-series. Please read the warnings!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke up with a headache and a confusing ache between your legs.

Your bed was comfier than usual, and so, so warm. Almost like you had a heated blanket going. You mouth cracked open into a yawn, and you stretched your limbs as far as you could-

Which wasn't far.

Both your legs and arms bumped into something solid and warm, surrounding you on both sides.

Your eyes flew open, very, very confused when you saw your friend Feyre laying to your right, and her husband Rhys on your left and-

You're naked.

Completely bare between the two of them, with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Your face flushed with heat.

God, what have I done?

Your tried to wiggle your way out from between the two of them, but one of Rhys's arms merely locked tighter around you, pulling you further against him.

He's naked. You could feel him hardening against you already as he stirred slightly, burying his face in your hair.

You struggled slightly, trying to move away from him, he's your friend's husband for crying out loud.

"What's wrong, sweetness?" Feyre's sleep heavy voice asked from your right. Her hand moved up your thigh and over your stomach, coming to rest between your breasts.

You pushed her hand off of you. "I'm so confused right now, Fey, why are Rhys and I naked? I should go," you said, moving to sit up, but Feyre's hand shot out to keep you down, and between her and Rhys you were powerless to move.

"You're never going to leave us again, darling," Feyre said, wiggling closer to you and pressing her body against yours- she was naked as well.

What the fuck did I do last night?

"Feyre, let me up," you demanded, doing your best to get her hand off of you, but in your struggle you must have woken Rhys up.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" His sultry voice sent shivers down your spine. Your always found it attractive, but now? Trapped between him and your best friend? You wanted nothing more than to bolt out of their apartment and back to yours and never come back out.

"Rhysie, she's trying to leave," Feyre said poutily, hand rubbing circles onto your stomach.

"And why would our sweet little kitten want to leave, hmm?" He asked, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses along the expanse of it. "You were so happy last night, sweet thing, what changed?"

You shook your head- this was wrong, all of this was wrong. And Rhys's lips had brought to your attention something wrapped around your neck snugly.

"This isn't right, I can't even remember what happened last night," you said, tears leaking from your eyes now, and you brought a hand up to your throat, fingering the fabric on your neck. Is it leather? Is it-

"You put a collar on me?" You asked, disbelief in your voice as your fingers attempted to tear the item from your body.

"I figured you might freak out, sweetness," Feyre tutted from beside you, a hand raising your grasp both of yours. "You're ours now, Y/N, you just need a little help realizing that. That's what the cute little collar is for, just to keep you from running away like the silly little kitten I think you might be." Feyre's voice was soft but condescending as she explained it to you, but you were still so lost.

"I don't understand, Fey," you cried, attempting to pull your body out of their embraces. "We're friends, you're married. This isn't okay."

Rhys shushed you, running his hands over your hair. "We might be married, but you're the secret missing piece we've been looking for, kitten. From the moment Feyre introduced me to you, I knew what she meant when she said she had to have you. Neither of us can resist how absolutely sweet and lovely you are." You went to open your mouth to protest, but Feyre's mouth covered yours in a heated kiss. "You'll realize just how much you can't resist us either, soon," Rhys added when he felt you involuntarily relax into Feyre's dominating hold over you.

"As for the not remembering last night..." Feyre started when she finally pulled away from claiming your mouth. "I think I know the perfect way to fix that," she said with a smirk, already moving down below the blankets and between your thighs.

"Feyre stop," you pleaded. "I don't want this, I want to go home," you cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Really?" Feyre asked with a smirk, dragging a finger through your folds and collecting the wetness that had pooled there. "Because this sweet little pussy says otherwise."

Tears fell from your eyes faster, shame welling within you as Feyre sucked her finger clean, closing her eyes as she did so. Feyre lowered her mouth to your sex in the next moment, not wasting any time in working you up to your breaking point.

You were still so sensitive from whatever they had done to you last night, and with Feyre’s tongue working your clit like magic you could hardly keep yourself still, even as Rhys pinned down your torso. One of his hands was fondling your breast and keeping you in the bed while the other ran through your hair and kept your face tilted towards Feyre.

You could see her face well again, now that the blanket had slid further down the bed while you twitched and writhed in their hold and against the pleasure Feyre was giving you. Her eyes were locked on your face, taking in every detail as you got closer and closer to the brink with every delicious swipe of her tongue.

To you it was wrong, all wrong. You didn’t want to be reacting, to even be warming their bed at all, yet you were trapped here as the couple worked you into your first orgasm of the morning against your will.

The strangled moan that left your throat was enough to have Feyre smirking up at you from between your thighs.

“See? You love us, and what we can give you. And we love you, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, Feyre, this isn’t love,” you cried softly, too tired and ashamed to put up much of fight anymore.

“It is, darling. We love you,” Rhys reiterated, peppering your neck and face with kisses as if to prove his point. “Now, will you let us feed you? I imagine you’re hungry after all the work we did last night,” he said with a dirty grin, two fingers pinching your right nipple.

Feyre began to move back up the bed and you took the opportunity to roll to your right into the spot that she had occupied while the three of you slept. Feyre sighed.

“Rhys, you can go take a shower and then start breakfast, okay? I’ll get this one into the shower after a little more… persuasion,” Feyre said in a disappointed tone.

Rhys chuckled, but got up from the bed anyway and walked into the bathroom. “Tell me pancakes or waffles after I come back out, darling.”

Feyre’s hands were pulling your back against her front snugly, allowing no room for you to escape the soft press of her body. Once you’d calmed a bit, she let one of her hands snake down between your thighs, gathering a bit of wetness from your center and then rubbing quick circles on your clit.

So sensitive. Her deft fingers brought you to completion twice in the time it took Rhys to finish showering and enter the room for his clothing.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he rounded to the side of the bed you were facing, leaning into Feyre’s embrace as she forced you closer and closer to a third orgasm in such rapid succession.

“I see, you’re just more comfortable with Feyre, hmm?” Rhys asked as he pulled your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess I’ll just have to spend every waking second of the next week getting you used to me,” Rhys said with a smile before heading to leave the room.

“Pancakes,” Feyre told him, right as her fingers brought you to your fourth orgasm of the morning.

“Got it, darling. Make sure to actually get her in the shower, okay?”

Feyre’s merely lowered her lips to the left side of your neck, sucking a pair of dark, claiming marks over the spaces that Rhys had left unmarked.

Your breathy, contented sigh shocked you so thoroughly you jerked from Feyre’s hold finally and landed on the carpeting.

“Oh, sweetness, still afraid of liking us?” Feyre asked amusedly, bringing herself to the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over that in a couple of days, I think. Unless you decide to be a brat and fight your fate which, I might add, is useless. Rhys and I love you, Y/N.”

You shook your head at her words. “This is wrong, Feyre, you know it’s wrong. You can’t just keep me here,” you said indignantly, getting up from the floor on shaky legs and attempting to cover yourself with your arms.

“Why not?”

You scoffed. “Because, Feyre, I am a human being and not a pet. I have a life and people that care about me, you can’t just abduct me and get away with it!”

“People that care about you? You have me, Y/N. Your family is mostly dead and the ones that are alive, you don’t talk to! And you even told me that I’m the first friend you made in Velaris, you belong with me. You have belonged to me ever since I first saw you in that coffee shop.”

“What about my job? I have a job, Feyre, they will be worried when I don’t actually start in a few days,” you told her desperately, hoping for any shred of the kindness you’d thought your friend had possessed before today to shine through.

“At the marketing firm? Rhys owns it, sweetie, his cousin Mor manages it. She already knows that you won’t be starting, you have a much better life set up for you now.”

You stared at her in shock. Had everything about your life recently been one big set up?

"What did you do Feyre?" You asked her, despair lacing your tone. If she was telling the truth, then there was no way out of this for you. And-

Oh my god. Your apartment here. Feyre had recommended it.

"I didn't do anything, Y/N. I suggested the job at the marketing firm because you were working yourself to the bone at that coffee shop, dear. I couldn't stand to see you suffer," Feyre explained, prowling across the room to stand in front of you. You were backed against the corner of the room now, with nowhere to go. "And I suggested the apartment here because we have good security, and I've seen the way your regulars would look at you, like they were just waiting to snatch you when the opportunity presented itself." One of Feyre's hands comes up to cup your face, following you as you turned away, still finding its mark. She turned your face back to look at her, and her eyes held such a fiercely protective look, you almost couldn't get your next words out.

"How are you any better than them?" You asked quietly, instantly taking note of how her eyes darkened with anger. "You snatched me away, Feyre, not any of those men. So how are you-"

Feyre surged forward, cutting your words off by slotting her mouth over yours. The kiss was harsh, claiming as she pulled your naked body against hers even as you struggled and tried to pull away.

"I love you, Y/N. And I would never, ever hurt you..." Feyre trailed off as her fingers played with your hair once you'd stopped fighting her. You opened your mouth to refute that claim, but she started speaking before you could. "I am not hurting you, sweetness. You simply don't know what is best for you right now, and sometimes we just need to be shown the right path." You went to argue again- "Now, if you don't shower with me, you won't be given any clothes to wear for the next week," Feyre said with finality.

Fight her, continue to feel disgusting in the off chance that she doesn't still force you to shower, and have no clothes for a whole seven days, or don't fight her, deal with it this once, and have clothes.

You didn't fight as Feyre steered you by the shoulders into their grand bathroom, stopping by the large triple sink counter. She carefully removed the collar from your neck with some type of key, then led you straight into the massive shower that had four huge, separate shower heads- one on each of the three walls, and one overhead.

You turned around right as Feyre started the shower, turning on just the three wall spouts. Water hit you from three sides, and Feyre came at you from the remaining one.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Feyre asked softly as she ran her hands over your body, passing over your nipples far more times than you felt was necessary. You shook your head. All that you could vaguely remember was getting to the bar Feyre had suggested. “That’s too bad, sweetness. You were very eager last night,” she said with a smile, and your cheeks flushed. “Don’t worry, at some point you’ll be able to admit to yourself how much you want us. For now we’ll just keep reminding you how much we want you.”

Feyre gently tipped your head back to wet your hair, taking her time to get it soaked in the warm spray. Her nails scratched lightly along your scalp, and you nearly sighed at the soft gesture.

This is not the same friend you’ve known all these months, you reminded yourself.

Before today, you would have never guessed you would be taking a shower with Feyre. A small part of you had maybe dreamed about it, but never would you have thought it would become a reality. Especially with the added element of you being forced.

Still, you couldn’t help but relax into Feyre’s gentle grasp and she shampooed your hair, then rinsed the lather from it, being careful to not get any suds in your eyes. The shampoo smelled just like the one you used before all of this happened. Strange. When Feyre began putting a thick conditioner in your hair, you realized it.

They don’t just smell like the products you use at home, they are the products you use at home.

Your accusatory glare hit Feyre once she was done rubbing the conditioner in.

“What?” Feyre asked innocently as she wet her own hair.

“Why do you know what products I use?”

Feyre smiled. “I pay attention, dear. I wanted to make the transition as comfortable as possible for you, so I got everything I could think of that you use regularly. Now, will you help me wash my hair?”

You didn’t move.

“Pleaaase, Y/N?” Feyre asked again, a pouty look on her face now, one that you were rarely able to resist.

“Fine. Which bottles?” You conceded, grabbing the shampoo bottle she pointed to and squeezing some out into the palm of your hand. You lathered it up, then set to working it through Feyre’s thick, golden brown hair. When you rinsed her hair, you wanted to let soap run into her eyes, but couldn’t let yourself for some reason. You repeated the process of working the conditioner through Feyre’s hair, and once you were done she turned around to fade you again.

“Time to rinse yours, cutie,” Feyre said, already tipping your head back into the water to rid your hair of conditioner. Again, her nails scraped along your scalp gently, just enough to get your body to relax more. When she finished, she grabbed a cloth and loaded it with body wash, one that smelled of lilacs and pears- very Feyre. Feyre soaped up your body slowly, lingering in the sensitive areas as long as she could before you started to fight her hold again. She helped you rinse off, then extended the cloth to you. “Do me?”

You shook your head. No. “I already washed your hair, Feyre, just let me get out please.”

Feyre sighed, and started washing her body. “You can’t get out yet, you still need to wash your face. I’d suggest it after last night,” Feyre said with a wink, and your stomach churned.

You don’t really want to know what that comment was about. But you wash and exfoliate your face nonetheless, using the identical products to those you had before, finishing just as Feyre was done washing her own face.

She turned the water off, and grabbed two fluffy towels off of the rack for the both of you. She wrapped one around herself, then patted you dry, taking her time to get every inch of skin and dry your hair as much as she could before she dried herself off.

Feyre went to the sink closest to the shower, and you spotted all of your skincare and hair care products lined up attractively behind the middle sink. Feyre was already doing her routine as you examined the bottles and jars, picking out what you wanted to use.

At least they’re giving you something normal.

Once the two of you had finished, Feyre locked the collar back onto your neck, then pulled you back into their bedroom, the massive bed lurking in your vision no matter where you turned. Feyre grabbed two sets of clothing, pulling on her own outfit. First was a lacy black set of lingerie that looked flawless on her, then a pair of black leggings, a rich brown sweater, and slippers.

She then forced you to let her dress you, slipping a pair of blush pink panties up your legs to settle snugly on your hips, and a matching colored bralette over your breasts, which she had for once refrained from squeezing. Your arms were lifted above your head to let a soft pink, long sleeved peasant dress fall over your body, and you were instructed to sit to allow Feyre to put white knee high socks onto your legs and slip your feet into cute pink slipper booties. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Feyre dragged you out of the bedroom. You look cute, if you had to describe the outfit. It’s similar enough to the style you wear on your off time, though everything seems to be made of higher quality materials than what you were able to afford.

The door to the bedroom led to a short hallway, which Feyre led you to the open end of, coming out in the living room. The two of you walked to dining table, near the far end of the open concept room. There was already a good amount of food on the table, and Rhys was just walking away from the stove with a large plate of pancakes in hand, a large smile spreading across his face when he spotted the both of you.

“And I was just thinking I might have to come and get you girls,” he said with a grin. “Come and sit down, breakfast is ready.”

Rhys pulled out a chair for you, pushing you in once you’d sat down and repeated the gesture with Feyre, who was sitting to your left. Rhys then took the seat to your right at the head of the table and began piling food onto your plate. A couple of sausages, pieces of bacon, chunks of cut up melon, and of course pancakes.

You didn’t think you could eat.

If you had woken up in a separate bed this morning, all of this would feel normal enough. Feyre and Rhys had let you stay over once before, and the following morning had a breakfast similar to this.

But everything had changed, you weren’t here because your friends were kind and invited you, you were here because they had trapped you here. You had a collar wrapped around your neck, that alone would be reason enough for you to want to leave.

“Eat up, darling,” Rhys said as he moved on to plating his own food.

You stayed still, staring down at the food that had your stomach turning.

Feyre’s elbow nudged you gently, and you instinctively looked to your left.

“Go ahead and eat, Y/N,” Feyre said gently. When you still didn’t move, she sighed. “Not eating won’t do anything for you, sweetness. Have just one of everything, please,” she begged, using her soft eyes that were so hard to resist.

So, even with your stomach protesting, you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth, chewing and swallowing but tasting nothing. Maybe if you play along for a little bit, they’ll let their guard down and you can escape.

Feyre and Rhys chatted about their jobs as the three of you ate- Feyre about her studio, and Rhys about the various businesses under the Night Corporation umbrella. You choked down each bite of food, doing your best to keep attention off of you.

A phone ringing cut through their chatter, and Feyre sighed as she picked it up.

“What?” She asked, annoyance clear in her tone. “Can’t you deal with it? I have something important today,” Feyre said, shooting a smile your way. The person on the other end replied with something that made Feyre groan. “Fine, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

Feyre dropped her phone onto the table and ran her hands over her eyes. “Well, I have to go into the studio, apparently the art class has taken a drastic turn that only I can fix,” Feyre whined. “Will you be okay here with just Rhys, sweetness?”

You raised a brow at her. “As though I have a choice?”

Rhys chuckled at your words. “That’s true, Fey, she’s stuck with me for the day. I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.” Dread pooled in your stomach at his words. You don’t want to know what type of ‘care’ he has in mind.

Feyre was still staring at you, like she wanted to say something, then looked away when she stood up. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour, but I’ll text you to let you know if there’s anything that will hold me up,” she remarked as she placed a kiss on Rhys’s cheek, and one on yours as well. “Love you guys!” Feyre said as she was walking out of the door, purse in hand.

“Love you darling!”

In the silence that followed the door slamming shut, the dread in your stomach grew.

“So, would you like a little tour?” Rhys asked, already stacking your breakfast plates together.

You stared at him. “A tour?”

Rhys smiled. “Yes, darling, a tour. You need to know your way around now that you’re living here. And don’t say no, this is mandatory,” he added when you shook your head.

He placed the dishes in the sink before smoking back to the table, pull in out your chair and extending a hand to help you stand. You ignore it, standing on your own, which made Rhys sigh.

“Right this way, darling,” Rhys said, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway containing their bedroom. You dug your feet into the ground, unwilling to enter the bedroom with him. Rhys stopped walking and turned to face you. “What’s the problem, doll?”

“I am not going to take this sham of a ‘tour’ if it just means that you’re going to rape me.”

Rhys’s eyes softened at your words, and he pulled you into a hug even as your tried to resist his hold. “Oh, darling. You won’t have to worry about that. I won’t fuck you until you are begging for my cock.”

“Like that will ever happen,” you spat, finally wrenching yourself free of his grasp.

“Oh, it will,” Rhys said assuredly, smirking down at you. “Now, will you let me give you the tour?”

You sighed, but did feel mildly better knowing that he supposedly wouldn’t be forcing himself on you. “Fine."

He continued to lead you back down the hallway their their bedroom resided, but stopped at the doorway opposite it. He swung it open, and gestured for you to walk inside. When you did, your jaw dropped.

It’s as though they had gone into your mind and plucked your perfect bedroom out of it just to recreate it here. The walls were in a soft, dusty pink color with a pale cream ceiling. There was fluffy pink carpet on the floor, looking so soft and squishy you wanted to be barefoot on it. At the far end of the room was a large canopy bed, decorated in hues of pink and purple, with a mound of pillows against the wall. There was a dresser and large closet off to the left, and on the right there was a small sitting area gathered around a table with a tv on it, your favorite consoles already lined up and plugged in, along with stacks and stacks of your favorite games. There was even a cute pink mini fridge and little snack shelf, all filled with your favorites.

“Do you like it?” Rhys asked hesitantly from his place in the doorway.

“Do I-?” You stopped to laugh. “Do I like it? It’s like the two of your read my mind. How?”

Rhys’s cheeks colored slightly as he met your eyes. “Feyre had the idea to look through your Pinterest, and you had a board dedicated to your dream room, so she worked tirelessly to get this ready for you.”

The thought and effort would have been sweet- were they not keeping you here against your will.

You just sighed and shook your head. “Is there more to the tour?”

Rhys nodded and grabbed you by the hand once more. He showed you around to the various guest rooms, the guest bathroom, then to Feyre’s home studio and his office, and finally you were back to the living room. The two of you were stood in front of the couches, looking out at their pool and massive patio.

“Do you want to play a game together?” Rhys asked, gesturing to the double TV and console set up in front of you. “We can play whatever you want, you can even play alone,” he offered.

Strangely, this request put you at ease even more than him saying he wouldn’t fuck you. Almost like it confirmed that the Rhys you had known was still in there, just… different. Darker.

“I don’t know…”

“We could smoke a joint,” Rhys said in a sing-songy voice, having grabbed one out of a box on the coffee table. “Or two. Or three. Just something to help you get your mind of things, maybe?”

The offer was tempting. You could pretend like you were just hanging out at your friends’ house and playing a video game with him.

“Sure, why not?”

The feeling of smoke filling your lungs calmed you down, settling you into a sleepy state where you weren’t thinking about the situation and how fucked up it is, just the passing flow of the river of your thoughts. You and Rhys shared two joints together on the patio, passing it between puffs.

“You know that Feyre cares about you, right?” Rhys asked as he took the second lit joint from you. You exhaled the smoke from your mouth, watching as it was whipped away by the wind.

“I don’t know that I would call this,” you gestured around you and at the collar, “caring about me.”

Rhys sighed. “But it is, Y/N. I know we went about it in a twisted way, but Feyre and I truly want you to be happy and safe. And before you ask, no, I won’t let you go. Just give us some time, you’ll come see how nice your life can be here and how much we care about you.”

You took the joint back from him with a pout, annoyed with him now. Sure, they care about me enough to steal me away and lock me up, but not enough to let me make the choice myself.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Rhys laughed sadly. “No, you don’t. But giving us a chance will make this much more enjoyable for you.”

You took another long drag before passing the joint back to Rhys’s waiting fingers.

“Will you… would you convince Feyre to not… touch me until I’m begging?” You asked hopefully, knowing that that day would never come now.

Rhys eyed you carefully. “I can talk to her about that, if it would make you feel more at ease around us darling."

A weight was lifted off your chest at his confirmation that he would wrangle Feyre in. He let you take the last drag before putting the joint out, and followed you back into the living room.

“Do you have Minecraft?” You asked hopefully, wanting to dick around and maybe build a cute house.

“Of course, darling,” Rhys said, booting up the TVs and consoles, passing a pink controller to you.

Within a couple of minutes, the two of you were as focused on the blocky game as you could be, your minds covered in a weed soaked haze.

Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff (let me know if you want to stay on the taglist for the mini series!)

[beesays]

It felt so easy to be this close. So easy to reach out and rest her hand against his chest. So easy to step into the tension between them and revel in it.

Art by @evermorelore

I was entirely self indulgent for my birthday and commissioned Superintendent Rhys and Art teacher Feyre from my fic Hot for Teacher. I couldn’t be happier with the outcome and @evermorelore is such a joy to work with!!

You can read Hot For Teacher here!

Now back to writing so I can indulge even more!

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: A Feysand AU

Chapter One

She's a law student turned confidential informant. He's a prosecutor with only one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for illegal activity . . . What could go wrong?

Hi everyone! Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you're interested in being tagged. Any thoughts on the story are much appreciated, too!

Chapter One

Feyre collapsed against the wall as soon as class was over. Sweat dripped from her temples, sliding over the layer of concealer she had plastered on that morning. She wiped her forehead, swearing to herself once again that this would be the last time she allowed Tamlin to drag her to a Crossfit class.

Even though she had made and broken that same mental promise to herself three times a week for the past six months.

As she guzzled from her near empty water bottle, Tamlin slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, his skin against hers slick. Oily. “Got any of that left?” Tamlin asked, already reaching for the water bottle.

Feyre sighed, handing it off to him. “A few drops.”

He knocked it back without another word. Not an appreciative smile. No thank you, Feyre. Not even a nod of gratitude for the water he had taken from her.

As she followed Tamlin out of the warehouse where the Crossfit classes were held, Feyre made another vow. The first of its kind, but perhaps with more resolve behind it than the one she had made only moments ago.

She was going to break up with him this week.

Feyre trailed Tamlin through the parking lot, eyes on the back of his neck, his blonde hair stuck to it with sweat. Her boyfriend of over a year had fallen into conversation with his best friend, Lucien. Lucien was also a regular at these Crossfit classes, but had met Tamlin through work. Tamlin had hired Lucien as his Director of Operations at his company, Spring Solutions. Five years later, the duo were best friends.

Lucien climbed into the passenger seat of Tamlin’s expensive truck, leaving Feyre to haul herself into the back as usual. Tamlin swung into the driver’s seat and made short of work of getting the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway that would carry them back into the city, back to the building where Tamlin and Feyre shared an apartment and Lucien lived a few floors down.

As the two discussed something about work—a topic Feyre didn’t particularly care about—she thought more about the terrifying new task she had set for herself.

Breaking up with Tamlin wouldn’t be simple.

Because it was her life, of course, and things were never simple.

She had shared an apartment with Tam, who was nearly seven years her senior, since the beginning of her second year of law school. Now, a month into her third and final year, their lives were fully intertwined. Feyre paid a few hundred dollars of rent each month, but Tamlin footed most of the bill. The downtown apartment was expensive, something Feyre could never afford on her own thanks to her law student’s budget.

She rarely paid for meals, either. Tamlin subscribed to one of those ultra-healthy meal services. A week’s worth of dinners delivered to their door every Monday morning. Feyre cooked them on study breaks, and the two would usually share a quick meal before Tamlin logged back on to work in his home office and Feyre returned to her books.

Most of the furniture was his, as was the art on the walls. The kitchen utensils, pots, pans. The bed they shared. Everything.

If Feyre moved out, she would have to return to her father’s house or increase the amount of student loans she had already taken out that semester. Neither option sounded appealing. She had lived with her father and her two older sisters her whole life—all throughout her undergraduate studies and until the end of her first year of law school. How she had made it so long trapped in that house, caring for her family in much the same way she cared for Tamlin, Feyre had no idea. So when Tamlin had proposed the idea of moving in together, she jumped at the chance. Didn't think farther than Get me out of my childhood home.

She hadn't considered what would happen if things didn’t work out. If she decided he wasn’t the one for her anymore.

She had gone straight from her father’s house to Tamlin’s apartment, and had fallen into Tamlin’s lifestyle, even if she still wasn’t quite used to it.

At least the bed in the guest room was hers, and the nightstand and the few books she had taken from her father’s house. Her painting supplies.

“Babe?” Tamlin’s voice scattered the plans she was fruitlessly trying to cobble together in her mind.

“What?” She inquired, blinking up at her boyfriend.

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner out tonight.”

Feyre bit her lip. She had already put off studying to come to Crossfit—if she didn’t get home soon, she would have to burn the midnight oil to get all her reading for class done at a decent hour.

“I really have to study,” she said quietly, praying he wouldn’t try to convince her to come to dinner. Because he would never let up and she, inevitably, would give in.

At Tamlin’s sigh, she tentatively tried again. “I’m really sorry! I wish my professors didn’t assign such long readings, but I can’t change it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know I would come to dinner if I could. I would much rather do that.” The words weren’t new—she’d used some variation of them numerous times over the past year and a half. They had almost lost all meaning to her, but she’d found this was the best combination to keep Tamlin happy: apologize, provide an excuse that was outside of her control, and assure him that he would always be her first choice.

“Alright. We’ll drop you at home and come back later.”

Feyre choked back her sigh of relief. “Sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

Lucien’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—one ginger eyebrow cocking slightly. Feyre looked away, gaze fixing on her lap.

Twenty minutes later, she waved at the car as it sped down the street toward Tamlin and Lucien’s favorite sports bar. With any luck, Lucien would get him drinking beers and talking about work, and she would have at least three hours to herself to shower. Study. Maybe even time enough to feign sleep by the time Tamlin returned.

And indeed, she managed to accomplish everything she needed to do just before Tamlin came stumbling into the apartment hours later. Feyre shut her eyes tight from her spot on the right side of the bed, her fledgling plans swirling through her thoughts until she well and truly drifted away.

-----

The next morning, Feyre gazed at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure every inch of her suit was clean and pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. The black jacket clung to her narrow frame, the pencil skirt she wore beneath it as flattering as a skirt that cut her off just below the knee could be. Her golden-brown hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, watery blue eyes popping thanks to the brown mascara she had applied.

“You look amazing,” a voice from behind her said.

Feyre turned, smiling at her boyfriend despite all the promises and plans she had made the night before. “Thanks, honey.”

“What’s the occasion?” Tamlin asked, striding forward and placing his hands on her hips.

Feyre stepped back, grinning up at him. “No touching. I have an important networking event with my firm today and I can’t get all wrinkly.”

Tamlin held up his hands, backing away a step. “My apologies, Ms. Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. Tamlin wasn’t always awful.

Just most of the time.

“So when can I expect you home today?”

Feyre sighed, grabbing her backpack and purse and brushing past Tamlin, striding out of the closet and into the master bathroom. “I’ve got a full day of classes, and then this networking event at six. I’m not sure how long it will go, but I’m really hoping to be back by eight.”

“Just as well,” Tamlin said. “I’ve got a late night at work—probably won’t be home until after ten.” Feyre nodded, and Tamlin followed her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen. Feyre grabbed the smoothie she had made earlier that morning and tucked her lunchbox into her backpack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to Tamlin’s lips. He nipped at her lower lip, green eyes sparking. But Feyre just smiled, retreated, and didn’t breathe deep until she made it to the hallway, door automatically locking behind her.

This week. She was going to do it this week.

Feyre’s day dragged on in one long, miserable slog. She got cold-called by her professors in two of her classes, but she managed to answer most of the questions correctly, her heart thudding violently in her chest all the while.

Cold calls and the Socratic method of teaching were one of her least favorite parts of law school. Most professors gave no warning to their students before they called their names, subjecting them to several questions of the professor’s choosing. If you didn’t know the answer, they might move on. But some waited for you to at least attempt to respond, while the class stared and stared and hands jumped into the air all around, telling you that they knew the answer, that it was obvious. Answering a question correctly felt wonderful—but answering incorrectly usually caused Feyre’s cheeks to burn a bright red.

It didn’t matter how many of the randomly determined “calls” Feyre endured—every time a professor spoke her name, her hands started sweating, her heart rate climbing up and up and up until the professor moved on to another victim.

She spent a few hours at the library after class, tucked in her favorite corner. It was private, but better than sitting in the main quad where most of the law students gathered to study during daytime hours. Feyre hadn’t spent any notable length of time in the quad since the first semester of her 1L year. As her relationship with Tamlin progressed, the few friends she had made faded away as Feyre opted to attend the fancy dinner parties and events Tamlin invited her to. Maintaining a new relationship and keeping up with her studies didn’t leave much time for anything else—not even friends. That wasn’t to mention the time she had spent at home with her sisters and father her entire first year of school, taking care of most of the housekeeping and cooking duties because the rest of her family had “real jobs” and Feyre was still “just a student” who didn’t work a regular 9-5.

Now, she felt like a ghost in the halls of the school. She would wave to her old friends if they passed in the hallways, but Feyre had long ago accepted that this would be her law school experience: sitting in the back of the classroom, answering questions if forced, and generally keeping to herself.

It was a quiet, small existence she led. Class. Tamlin. Attending whatever events or obligations Tamlin dragged her to. Studying.

After she’d had enough studying for the day, Feyre took the train to downtown Prythian, checking her makeup at least four times before the train arrived at its stop a few blocks from a large hotel and event center in the heart of the city. She started to walk the five minutes to the hotel, staring up at the enormous shiny buildings rising around her.

To think, this would be where she worked full-time in just a few short months.

Thanks to competitive firm recruiting, Feyre had had her post-grad job lined up since the summer. She would be starting as a junior associate at Hybern & Night LLP, one of the largest and most powerful national firms in the country. Jobs at Hybern & Night were hard to come by, but thanks to Feyre’s top 5% ranking at Prythian University Law School, and her ability to say all the right things under pressure, she’d scored a job during early interviewing last summer.

The firm occupied the upper floors of one of the tallest buildings downtown. Tonight it was holding a networking event for its partners, associates, recruits, and other lawyers in the community.

She could have skipped the event, but her career counselor had emphasized how important it was to immerse herself in firm activities as quickly as possible—it would make her transition from student to junior associate much smoother, and allow her to make connections with more senior attorneys and partners who might be willing to provide projects for her to work on when she started.

So, she was here, clicking down the shadowed streets of downtown Prythian, gearing herself up to rub elbows with some of the city's wealthiest attorneys.

Some day soon, she would be one of them.

Feyre tugged her coat closer around herself, the chill in the air signaling autumn’s impending arrival. A block away, the windows of the event center glowed warmly in the shadows of the buildings around her. She increased her pace, and soon found herself ensconced in a world of cocktails and arguments. Feyre made a beeline for the refreshments table. She could certainly count on attorneys to ensure there was an open bar at events like this. She seized a glass of red wine and cast her gaze around the room, but didn’t recognize anyone. She had interviewed with at least five of the attorneys from Hybern & Night in order to get her job, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Feyre thanked the man who served her the wine, swallowing back memories of her own time spent as a bartender at Humane, one of the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bars in all of Prythian. She would have preferred talking to the bartender—less posturing required—but forced herself to skirt around the room, looking around for someone to engage in conversation.

She had almost completed a full lap when an enormous man leaned against the wall just in front of her.

“You look lost,” his deep voice rumbled, light brown hair sliding over his forehead, pale green eyes gazing down at her. His cheeks were flushed—probably from the alcohol—and as his eyes slid over her, Feyre was glad she hadn’t yet removed her coat.

“Not lost. Just—” Feyre broke off, shaking her head. “Feyre Archeron,” she said, offering a hand. “I’ll be starting as a first-year associate at Hybern & Night next August.”

“Jax Smith,” he said, an enormous hand encompassing hers. “I'm in my eighth year at Hybern & Night. Hoping to make partner next year. It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.”

Feyre swallowed, taking her hand back and sliding it into her pocket. “You too.” She cast around for one of her pre-prepared questions: So how do you like working at the firm? Any advice for 3L students preparing to enter the workforce? How do you survive the eighty hour workweeks year after year after year? Is the money worth it?

Luckily, Feyre didn’t have to resort to any of her questions, because Jax spoke for her.

“You look awfully young to be a 3L,” he commented, gaze sliding up and down her body.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow, a chill trailing down her spine. “I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s young.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. This was certainly unprofessional. “Not too young, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile. This man was going to be her coworker. She couldn’t just turn around and flee. “I’ll be twenty-four this December,” she said brightly. “Practically collecting Social Security.”

Jax didn’t smile. Only narrowed his eyes like he was trying to see through her coat.

Feyre swallowed another gulp of wine, and as he inched closer, she realized that the alcove where they stood was mostly obscured by two of the many enormous columns ringing the event center. There weren’t any lights in this section, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. The rest of the networking attorneys seemed miles away, even the sounds of their voices muffled by a dull roaring that started in Feyre’s head as Jax’s gaze fixed her in place.

“And are you married, Feyre?” Jax asked, one arm resting on the wall next to her head. His gaze dropped to her left hand, wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, her fourth finger obviously bereft of any ring.

“No,” she said, backing away another step.

But her admission only seemed to encourage Jax. He slid forward, eyes focused somewhere just south of her neck, where her coat had fallen open to reveal the v-neck of her dress shirt. “I would be happy to meet you for a coffee sometime. Maybe even a drink. Tell you more about the firm, away from all these stuffy partners. We could even find somewhere quieter here. To talk.” His eyes slid to the hall that led who-knew-where, just behind Feyre, stretching off into the shadows of the hotel.

Feyre’s eyes widened, a lump forming in her throat. This man was her future coworker, her senior. He might even be partner by the time she started at the firm. To turn him down could be fatal. If he took offense, he could spin it any number of ways: She had no interest in learning more about the firm. Couldn’t care less about team-building and getting to know her coworkers. Clearly came for the wine and nothing else.

He could ruin her reputation. And that was something she couldn’t afford. Not if she ever wanted to be free of Tamlin, of her family.

“What do you say?” Jax asked, bending down, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“I—” Feyre started.

But another man’s voice, smooth as velvet and gentle as the night, floated into the alcove, startling Jax and sending a wave of relief over Feyre.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

[foundress0fnothing]

touching you i catch midnight

For my love, @beesays. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you better over these last few months, and I hope you enjoy this feysand modern AU, second chance romance l've cooked up for you. You are such a wonderful fandom friend and I am sending you so many hugs this holiday season 🎄

Thank you to @violetasteracademic for beta reading for me! 🫶 babe 💕

Also many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y'all are the absolute best!

Summary: It's been 10 years since Feyre left her hometown—and everyone who lived there—behind. Now she's back, working at her sister's event planning company, and throwing a birthday party for her ex's mysteriously MIA fiancée. Lucky her.

This is chapter 1 of 5.

title from Audre Lorde's “Recreation”

Read below the cut or here on ao3!

November 1st

Feyre leaned against the brick wall at the entrance to the rooftop, tiredly scanning the space to see if she’d missed anything. String lights? Check. High top tables with dried flower centerpieces? Check. A truly excessive number of  black, white, and maroon pillar candles arranged strategically to bathe darkened corners with a glowing warmth? Check. A cascading flower arch of green and gold and burnt orange and deep maroon that she had spent far too long trying to assemble? Check. A tension headache and the niggling sensation that she had definitely forgotten something? Check.

Nesta glaring? Also—unsurprisingly—check.

Her sister stood next to her after having come up from the restaurant downstairs. “It’s a little gauche, no?”

“You approved the design,” Feyre scoffed. It was just like Nesta though—only her eldest sister would open an event company and then be critical of everything the clients requested. Valkyrie Events had been open for a full year, and as far as Feyre knew, Nesta was unofficially banned from getting involved with anything client-facing when it came to the decorating side of the business.

Nesta shrugged. “It’s not my fault if the clients have bad taste.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. The space was fine—lovely even, not that she was trying to praise her own work. Emerie had found a newer restaurant in the city that rented out their top floor and rooftop bar, and Valkyrie Events had taken over the space early that morning for the event. The lights and the candles and the autumnal colors Feyre had set up all spoke of warmth and joy and family, and when the event started in a few hours, they would look even more magical against the darkened city skyline. Perfect for an engagement party. 

She felt some small part of her strain at that thought.

But she shook her head. What could have been—and what was narrowly avoided—wasn’t worth dwelling on. Not right now, in any case. 

No, now she only wanted to make her way back to her studio, take a too-hot shower, and curl up under the covers with Netflix and a glass of wine until she fell asleep. She could worry about love another day.

And so with a wry snort at Nesta’s impossibly high standards, Feyre made to push off of the wall to head back downstairs, but she felt her sister’s hand grab onto her own before she could actually move anywhere.

“I need you to stay today.” 

Feyre groaned, slumping back against the brick and turning a baleful gaze onto her sister. Nesta had enough grace to look slightly apologetic as she said, “Deirdre called out with the flu or something. I can’t have her puking all over the canapes tonight.”

“And you can’t make do with one fewer server tonight? I’m sure the couple will be too wrapped up in each other to notice if someone only stops by with food every five minutes instead of every three.”

“We’re already down a server. Roslin’s taken the day for a family event, and Gwyn, Em, and I are already thin enough with everything else.” She sighed, and then, as if it pained her, said, “Please, Fey.”

It was the echo of what Feyre had said to Nesta one month ago when, fresh off a break up with her ex of almost a decade, she begged her sister for a job. She had finally left Tamlin, but it was at the cost of everything she owned and any financial security she might have hoped to fall back on. She couldn't even stay in the same city; he had managed to use his family’s money and influence to make it so that even the most run-down Starbucks wouldn’t hire her.

And so she had gone back to Velaris where she had grown up, back to her sister who had managed to put down roots and make a life in a place that had been nothing but cruel to her when she was a child. Where Feyre had run, Nesta had stayed and built something—and a new family—that was worth staying for.

To hear Nesta tell it, Valkyrie Events was built out of a combination of strategic late night planning sessions with her two best friends, Emerie Castello and Gwyn Berdara, and their unquenchable feminine spirit. Emerie had confided to Feyre that actually, the three of them had been stoned out of their minds when someone—probably Gywn—voiced the idea, and then they spent the rest of the night messily scrawling down ideas on their fridge white board.

But however it had come to be, Velaris had welcomed the woman-owned company eagerly. They had thrown events for a handful of the other small businesses in the town, a few of the local celebrities, and once, memorably, the mayor’s reelection celebration. A year in now, it was rare that a month went by without Valkyrie Events organizing two or three parties every weekend. As the business grew, the three original friends began to hire some women from the jujitsu classes they took at the Y who were looking for a fresh start until there was a comfortable roster of employees to work events so that no one woman lost her entire weekend, every weekend, to celebrating someone else’s joy without having a chance to make some of her own.

And so it had been an act of kindness—not a need for more employees—that Nesta and her friends agreed to take Feyre on as a decorator. She had an artistic eye, sure, but had never worked as a server, had no experience designing a space, and didn’t have any contacts with other small businesses or local friends to leverage into new opportunities for the company.

Feyre was grateful—she was. Nesta had given her a couch to crash on while she built up some savings, a job, and now, a chance to actually do something worthwhile for the company. The event that night was the first where her work would actually be seen by the clients; the last month had been a marathon of shadowing Gwyn, mocking up plans for events just to get used to the way the company worked, and meeting all the big names in the event-planning world of Velaris. 

Today was an engagement party for some wealthy duo who had met as teenagers and apparently loathed each other on sight, only to slowly find their way together when they were randomly paired as roommates at Prythian U. That was the story they had relayed to Emerie when booking Valkyrie Events, anyway. Feyre didn’t know if she believed it—it was too cute, too much like a cheesy romance novel plot to actually be real—but it wasn’t her job to question it.

Although it was apparently going to be her job to serve it. 

“Are you sure?” Feyre whined in a final attempt to get out of spending the night bringing mini crab cakes, petit fours, champagne refills to unfairly rich, unfairly happy people.

Nesta grimaced at Feyre’s tone. “Uniforms are downstairs. We should have something to fit you.”

“You’re going to make me wear a uniform? But I’m already staying late.” Feyre drew out the last word petulantly, savoring the way Nesta’s eye twitched.

“Fey.” Nesta gestured at the paint-spattered overalls that Feyre was currently wearing. “Be serious.”

“Fine, whatever, boss. I’ll wear the stupid uniform.”

“There, there, Fey. You look great in black. And who knows,” she said, smiling bitingly, “maybe it’ll be fun.”

–

It was not fun.

Feyre had spent the final hours before the event running around to help Nesta take care of a few final things—lighting candles, making sure the bar was stocked with enough glasses, frantically gluing a wayward twist of flowers from the arch that was already threatening to droop and pull the whole structure down with it. 

And now she was standing in a bathroom stall, holding the black server’s uniform in her hand and contemplating the feasibility of a short standing nap before she had to plaster on a smile for the clients. Pros of the nap: sleep. Cons of the nap: literally everything else. 

She knew she only had a few minutes, tops, before Nesta came looking for her, and the interruption to her sleep would put her in a shit mood for the rest of the day. And all that, only for a standing nap, leaning against a bathroom wall? She wasn’t sure that she wanted to acknowledge that new low today.

As she grimaced at that thought, her dozy musings were interrupted by the sound of a voice that was strikingly familiar. Feyre froze, straining to place it.

“Are you sure it’s not too much, Viv?”

Viv, whoever she was, assured the familiar voice that it wasn’t too much and that she looked great, and then the two slid into easy chatter about friends and coworkers and weekend plans.

They were guests for the event that night, clearly, and probably family if they were here so early, but Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew the voice.

She peeked through the gap in the stall door and caught sight of a wine-red dress, a mane of long, blonde hair, and then, as the owner of the voice turned, a profile that caused Feyre to inhale sharply. 

Morrigan Datiles. Feyre recognized her. How could she not? They had been like sisters, once. 

Mor hadn’t noticed the sound, or if she had, hadn’t cared to investigate it, and so Feyre stood still, waiting until the two women finished primping and walked out of the bathroom.

Forcing herself to kill some time so that she didn’t accidentally bump into Mor in the hallway, Feyre pulled on her server’s uniform, grimacing unconsciously as the black fabric stretched tightly against what few curves she had. All the while, her mind was racing. Why was Mor here? And who was the party for, if Mor was a guest? 

Feyre didn’t want to think about the answer to those questions. Thinking about those questions meant thinking about Mor’s family, and then seeing Mor’s family, and then serving Mor’s family, and there was too much messy history between all of them to make that in any way easy.

But still—she had to know.

Feyre stepped out of the stall, washed her hands, and then opened the door into the hallway, peeking around to make sure that the coast was clear. She could hear the hum of the kitchen and the buzz of conversation from the bar, but the path to the offices behind the restaurant where Valkyrie Events had set up shop for the day was mercifully clear. 

Nesta looked up from her computer at the sound of the door slamming as Feyre closed it behind herself.

“What.” Her sister had a way of saying the word that felt more like a threat than a question, and Feyre had to steel herself to avoid cringing and backing out of the room.

“Who is the event for?”

“I don’t know, some couple. I don’t remember their names.” Nesta shrugged, disinterested.

“It’s literally your job, Nes.” 

“And?” 

Feyre was reminded why Nesta wasn’t allowed to talk to clients.

“You could ask Em,” Nesta offered. “It’s her cousin.”

“God, you’re the worst.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but pulled out her phone anyway.

Feyre: Em, who’s the event for today? 

Em: My cousin, Az.

Azriel Moreno.

We reconnected a few months ago

Why

Did you know him growing up

Feyre clicked the screen off without answering, closed her eyes, and took a few calming breaths. 

They didn’t work. 

“You have me working an event for Azriel Moreno?” She whisper-screamed. “Do you remember who his brother is?”

Nesta looked up from her computer. “The gym bro idiot?”

“Not that one—although it’s interesting that you remember Cassian, and we’ll be revisiting that later. The other one.”

“Rich asshole?”

“Yes. Well, no—his name is Rhysand,” Feyre corrected, belatedly remembering Nesta’s disdain for the man. It had been so long since she had said his name, and it felt awkward in her mouth.

“Weren’t you friends in high school?”

Flashes of art class and coffee runs and late night study sessions flickered in Feyre’s memory.

“Yep. And then we weren’t.” She paused, and then turned her best youngest sister pout on Nesta. “Please don’t make me serve this party. Not if they’re all going to be here.”

Her sister looked pained. “Feyre, we need…”

“I know, I know. I just—” She waved her off, and then sighed. “I just didn’t want to see him again. And not like this,” she said, gesturing down at the server’s uniform. It wasn’t awful, as uniforms went—it was black and comfortable and well-made—but it certainly wasn’t what she would choose for a reunion with everyone.

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “Do you have an issue with working for Valkyrie Events?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe he won’t recognize you? It’s been what? Nine years?”

It had been ten. Almost as long as she had been with Tamlin. 

“Maybe.” Feyre sighed. “I’ll be ready to help with food prep in a few minutes, then. I just want to touch all of this up.” She gestured vaguely to her head, thinking of the brush and the makeup she was pretty sure were still at the bottom of her art kit from some gallery event she had attended with Tamlin before everything fell apart. There was no way out but through apparently, and she figured she might as well try not to look quite as bedraggled as she felt.

Her art kit was in the car, and it didn’t take her long to find everything (plus a travel-sized deodorant that she had also left there—bless past Feyre for being too lazy to unpack), and make her way back to the bathroom.

She stared at her reflection. Her eyes were tired, their blue-gray leaning more toward a dull slate, and her freckles stood out sharply against her skin. Her all-nighter to get the decor done was catching up with her, and she grimaced, watching her face contort into a mockery of itself and decided to tackle her hair before attempting any makeup.

Her braid hung limply over one shoulder, a mess of flyaways and frizz, and Feyre slipped the hair tie off to start finger combing it out. It fell in gentle, honey-golden waves, and as she brushed it and let it frame her face, she hoped that, between it and the intervening years, it would be enough to make her unrecognizable. She had tied it back in a braid almost every day in high school after all, too tired from the early cafe shifts she’d work before school to do anything more than get it out of her way. 

As she continued messing with her hair, she let her mind wander, wondering what everyone would be like now that so much time had passed. Mor seemed the same—exuberant and joyful—but more polished, comfortable with herself in a way that warmed Feyre’s heart to see. She imagined that Cassian too would be the same as she remembered him—affable and easy going, brotherly almost. Azriel was a surprise, though—she couldn’t picture the broody, darkly handsome teenager as a husband, even if she had just spent the last day preparing what was to be a party to celebrate exactly that.

And then there was Rhys. 

Was he married? Or dating? She grimaced at the thought of seeing him there with a date. Not that he shouldn’t have one! Feyre squinted at herself in the mirror, admonishing her reflection for her instinctive jealous reaction. Why wouldn’t he be dating? Even in high school, there had always been a bevy of women following him around, just in case he deigned to notice them. He was handsome and intelligent and rich—it was inevitable that he had found someone with whom to share a life.

She imagined he would have taken over his father’s tech company as well—it was what had been expected of him, even a decade ago, and for all the teenage rebellion that brought them together, Feyre didn’t think that he would actually go through with bucking that responsibility.

She could still remember the day he sauntered into her art elective sophomore year. Picturing the Self Through Pastel, the class had been called—a needlessly complicated way to indicate that they’d be working on portraiture with pastels, Feyre thought—but still, she had worked doubles at the cafe all summer to afford the materials for it. Finding that no one else was sitting at her station on the first day of class, she had resigned herself to a semester of exclusively painting self-portraits and had just begun to sketch out the rough contours of her face when the door to the art room creaked open to reveal a tardy Rhysand Ashcroft: senior, soccer star, soon-to-be homecoming king, and someone who had absolutely no business taking her art elective. Without so much as a word of apology to Ms. Alis, the teacher, Rhys had sauntered over to the empty spot near Feyre.

“This spot taken, darling?” He leaned his weight against the wood frame that held their station’s easels, the audacity of the movement immediately irritating Feyre. Because of course it wasn’t enough that she had to scrimp and scrape all summer to be able to afford this elective in the first place—no, now she’d get to spend the whole semester trying to make something worthwhile for her RISD portfolio while fending off distractions from a future business major frat bro enrolled in what she was sure he considered a blow-off class.

“No.” She shifted her side of their station as she said it, causing him to pitch forward slightly before catching himself against the stool.

He gracefully lowered himself onto it as if he hadn’t almost eaten shit. He looked her over, a smirk blooming on his face, and said, “What a warm welcome, darling.”

Despite herself, Feyre smirked back, and even now a decade later, the memory still made something in her warm.

Maybe she should just Google Rhys to prepare herself for whatever the night was about to be.

Just as Feyre was about to pull out her phone, she was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. She sucked in a horrified breath as she caught a flash of red and blonde out of the corner of her eye and quickly looked down to let her hair obscure her face.

But she wasn’t fast enough, and Mor had always been good at sniffing out the truth. 

“Feyre Archeron.”

Feyre sighed.  “Hi, Mor.”

[violetasteracademic]

Chapter Two: In Your Suit and Tie, In The Nick of Time

Summary:

Feyre's chance encounter with the mysterious Rhysand at Prism Coffee leads to unexpected complications.

Warnings:

Heavy content warning regarding conversations surrounding child death in this chapter. If that is difficult subject matter, I recommend only reading section one and three in this chapter and avoiding section two, noted by the line breaks!

A cornucopia of thank you's to @nikachansstuff and @rosanna-writer for an exceptional beta read on this chapter

Read chapter two here on AO3

Preview:

I peered over at Rhysand.

He was a paradox dressed in black. At first glance, he looked just like any other fast-talking and acclaim-chasing suit that cared about nothing and no one other than himself.

And yet, beneath the surface, there was a tattooed, pumpkin chai-loving brother and friend who worried deeply for those he loved. And he clearly shouldered a great sense of responsibility. Maybe even more than was fair.

I identified with that all too well.

[kopfkino-o]

another cracky actoar au. the setting is a hardware store in the early 2000s. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all work there.

Rhys obvi runs the front cash register and calls himself the shift manager (he isn't, Az is) but he actually doesn't know that much about at home projects and mostly just likes to flirt with Feyre who works at the craft store across the street. but the customers love him, and he’s charming as hell, so management lets it slide.

Cassian loves working in the powertools department. he likes them all. power saws, chain saws, drills, sanders, polishers, etc. his favorite is the nailgun though. once he almost got fired for accidently nailing Tarquin's coat to a piece of plywood but it all turned out okay in the end. sort of. most days during his shift, Cas likes to post not so subtle body shots to his MySpace in the hopes of catching Nesta's eye. It literally never works.

Azriel likes to mix different paints together to see what colors they make whenever he's on edge. it's like a damn drug. does the shop owner (Eris) appreciate all the wasted paint? probably not. but what's he going to do? fire him? laughable. Az is the only one who can actually work the cashier and Eris sort of has a thing for him so it’s basically a win win. He skateboards to work because he can’t afford a bus pass and sometimes he smokes cigs in the tile isle because, well, how many customers actually care about luxury vinyl planking

[romanticatheartt]

We Can Learn to Love Again

@officialfeysandweek

Day 7 -> prompt: AU

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Author: @littedidyouknow Part 1 of I think of you when I think about forever series Starring: Feyre Archeron, Rhysand knight, Nyx Knight and Elizabeth Archeron(OC) Main couple: Feysand No. Chapters: 83 (Completed) Tropes: Alternative Universe(Modern AU), Single parents, Slow burn, Healing journey ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

"We want to be strong for them, we think it's the best thing we can do to shield them from all the shit we're dealing with, but sometimes it's best to let the mask drop and let them come close. Work it out together." ~ Rhys ch.3

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

Feysand art student au idea.

Feyre is in art school, and Rhys has a huge crush on her, so he volunteers to be a nude model for her sketch class.

[winterinvelaris]

ACOTAR Modern AU

[oristian]

Feysand University Modern AU where Feyre is a struggling Art History major by day, and McDonald’s employee by night. Insert Rhys, who is the devilishly handsome rich guy from her Intro to Astronomy course. Rhys, who drives a sleek, brand new sports car and terrorizes her drive-thru every night—always five minutes before closing, and always ordering one fresh cup of coffee. Feyre, who daydreams about throwing that fresh cup of scorching coffee right onto his perfect face.

[potatoplace]

Mastermind

Dark!Feysand x Reader Modern AU

Part 2 | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: Drugging, dub-con / non-con, abduction, smut

Words: ~3.8k

Author's Note: so uhmmmm. This idea. Got me to write. Uhhh. Yeah. Enjoy. I sure did hehe 🤭 the chokehold feysand has on me recently is. Very strong. Near irresistible. There might be future parts to this, I'm not sure yet. Read the warnings please!!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

Your friends Feyre and Rhys had offered to take you out for a drink at Rita’s when she heard about your new job, doing remote work as a graphic designer for a marketing firm.

Feyre’s had suggested the job after all, knowing that your dream lay beyond the coffee shop that you currently work in- well, used to work in, you had quit earlier that day.

That, plus your new, upscale apartment that you rent at an amazing price had made your year considerably better than the last few.

And tonight was supposed to be fun, you had worn your smallest black dress, with tiny straps just barely holding it onto your body.

Yet here you were, being driven home after only two drinks, sitting in the backseat of Rhys and Feyre’s car in Feyre’s arm. You felt dizzy, and heated all over.

It was the type of drunk you rarely felt- overwhelmingly needy and aroused.

You just needed to make it home, and thankfully Rhys and Feyre live in the same building, so there’d be no problems with getting you into your apartment.

This building has way more security than your last apartment, there you were lucky to have never been broken into, with how many times your previous neighbors had been stolen from.

The car came to a slow, smooth stop, and you heard a car door open and shut. Then, one of Feyre’s arms moved from your body, causing you to whine as she opened the door on her side.

The door on your end of the car opened, and you were quickly pulled into the arms of someone warm and solid.

Keeping your eyes open was a struggle, but you managed to tilt your head up, gaze passing over a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and finally locking briefly with intense violet eyes. Rhys smiled down at you, eyes darkened with-

Something.

You were just tired and dizzy and you- oh, you need a shower. The water could drown out your noises, just in case the state you’re in makes you louder than usual. Your thighs rubbed together slightly as your mind wandered, already set on having the feeling of warm water hitting your skin and your hand between your thighs.

Your eyes closed as the three of you passed through a doorway, and a few dings of the elevator later Rhys is walking once more, gentle movements only making you sleepier.

He sets you on the floor gently once you’re in your apartment only-

It’s not your apartment.

“We didn’t think you should be alone right now, darling, with how you’re feeling,” Feyre explained softly, one of her hands already wrapping around yours. “Did you need anything?”

“A shower,” you blurted out, more than ready to have the smell of the club, however faint it was, off of your skin.

“That we can provide, darling,” Rhys said, smacking your ass as he walked away from the both of you. You turned to say something to him, but Feyre was already moving, leading you by the hand.

You passed though a luxurious bedroom, with a California king bed draped in black silk standing out most to you. You could see chains attached to the posts-

“Here we are, Y/N. Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked, waving her hand to the large bathroom she had taken you too. The shower was open, no curtain or door to close it off from the rest of the room.

You simply shook your head. You could manage a shower on your own, surely, you were already feeling a little better than in the club. “Thank you, Fey,” you said softly, taking her in for a hug.

“Oh, it’s nothing sweetheart. Absolutely nothing,” Feyre replied, pushing the hair away from your face and gathering it into a bun for you, securing it with the scrunchie she’d gotten while you weren’t paying attention. She started the water for you before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

You used a makeup wipe to rid yourself of your makeup, feeling far too greasy to not wash your face, then quickly stripped off your dress and your panties and slipped into the stream of water, sighing when the warm water hit your skin. It felt just as good as you imagined- and then your thoughts went back to what you’d thought of on the way up the elevator.

Your hand slipped down, landing between your thighs as water poured over you. Your fingers dipped between your folds, your cunt already thoroughly drenched even without the water running between your legs. You swirled your fingers around your clit slowly, letting out soft sighs every now and then. The pleasure in your gut grew as you moved them faster-

“Y/N? Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked through the door, and you quickly moved your hands from between your thighs.

“No, Fey, I’m alright,” you said, cheeks blazing with heat.

“Rhys had a nice idea, would you like to go swimming?” Feyre offered, and you turned to your right to see that she’s in the room with you. You covered your chest, keeping as much of yourself hidden as you could.

Swimming could be nice. And you’d seen their pool, it had such a pretty view, and you’d never gone in it before. You nodded your head, eyes taking note of the bikini in Feyre’s hands.

“Good, you can wear this, darling. I’ll be waiting for you outside, don’t take too long,” Feyre said, blowing you a kiss before she closed the door behind her.

Your cheeks heated even further, you’d never had such a nice and friendly female friend before, let alone such a pretty one. Your thoughts strayed to what Feyre would look like in a bikini- absolutely perfect, you were sure. Fingers dipped back between your thighs, rubbing quick circles over your clit, you just needed to cum once, once then you could go enjoy the rest of your night with your friends-

A knock at the door, right as you were about to finish.

Feyre entered without waiting for you to respond, this time without the stunning black dress she’d been wearing before. Instead, she was completely naked.

You blushed profusely, turning your eyes away from her.

“Oh, darling, you can look all you like. I just thought, since you’re taking so long and I need to shower, I’d come in and just get mine done at the same time.” Feyre paused. “I could leave, if you’d like,”

Your brain was short circuiting, being so close to your incredibly beautiful, incredibly sexy friend of a few months. “Oh, that’s, uhm… that’s fine, Fey.”

Feyre smiled, getting a bit closer to you. “Good. Did you need help getting clean, sweetness?” Feyre asked, her chest nearly touching yours, still covered by your arms. She already had a cloth filled with soap in her hands and began running it across your shoulders soothingly. Your arms slowly feel from your chest, and Feyre took the opportunity to step closer, arms practically wrapped around you as she used the cloth to clean your back, her breasts pressed against yours.

You could hardly breathe, this woman, your friend was so perfect and naked and-

The cloth slipped over your cunt, Feyre’s deft fingers quickly rubbing it over your clit, and a quiet moan escaped you. The cloth was gone a second later, two of Feyre’s fingers sinking into your cunt as the other hand came to rub circles on your clit. You came shamefully quickly, already having worked yourself up so high before your friend entered the room.

“Good girl,” Feyre whispered against your ear before pressing hot kisses down your neck, only pulling away to grab the cloth off the floor of the shower and begin washing you once more. Once she was finished, she pushed you back into the stream of water, rinsing the suds off of your body. “Help me out?” Feyre asked, hands already pushing the cloth into yours. When you hesitated, she made puppy dog eyes at you. “I helped you, pleeease Y/N?”

That was all you needed, body moving of its own accord as your hands used the cloth to clean her body, trying not to linger too long on her breasts, ass, and her sweet looking pussy that at the moment you knew you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in. Feyre rinsed herself off, her hands lingering over the spots you’d wanted to touch longer. You were on the verge of getting on your knees and begging when Rhys’s voice came from the doorway.

“You ladies are so gorgeous,” he said, walking further into the room, and it was then that you noticed- he’s naked, his long, thick cock bobbing invitingly at you, already hard and waiting. You managed to snap your eyes away from him, only to land on Feyre’s chest.

Fuck, it should be illegal for these two to be this hot, you thought to yourself, thighs pressing together as you tried to look anywhere but at your two friends.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre said, walking out of the shower and pulling him with her into it. “You can shower, the two of us will get in the pool. Right Y/N?”

You nodded, letting her grab your hand and lead you over to the towels. She dried you off, lingering over your sensitive areas longer than necessary, then helped dress you in the bikini she was lending you- if you could even call it that. It was practically strings, with small stars of fabric to cover your nipples and a slightly thicker strip of fabric to cover your cunt.

But, if your friends had already seen you naked… what’s the harm?

Feyre was dressed similarly, her bikini in black instead of your silver set. She pulled you out of the bathroom, through their bedroom and out onto the patio. Feyre sat at the edge of the pool, patting the ground next to her, and you joined her a moment later.

You sighed, then leaned your head onto Feyre’s shoulder.

“Feeling better yet, darling?” She asked, her right arm coming up to circle around your shoulders. You nodded against her shoulder, kicking your legs gently in the water. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Would either of you ladies like another drink?” Rhys asked from behind you.

“Yes please, Rhysie,” Feyre responded. “She’ll have a soda, I think. Hmm, baby? Does that sound good?” You nodded your head in confirmation. In no world do you need another drink at this point, for gods sake your friend already made you-

“Let’s get in the water, darling.” Feyre slipped in the pool, water coming to just under her barely covered breasts. “Join me?” She asked coyly, and you couldn’t help but follow her in, making your way to her immediately. The water came up to your collarbones, your height difference feeling so pronounced as you looked up at her, half expecting her to make another move.

“Here we are.” Rhys’s voice cut through the bubble you and Feyre had been in for a moment. You turned to look at him and saw that he was already sitting at the edge of the pool the two of you had entered at, two drinks in hand.

You and Feyre made your way to him, happily taking the drinks from his hand and watching as he slipped into the pool. The height difference between the two of you took your breath away slightly, you felt so small next to him. You took a few greedy sips of your soda to cover up how flustered you are around the couple tonight, every little thing about them seems to be turning you on more and more.

Feyre had taken a sip of her drink and set it back down, choosing to follow Rhys a bit deeper into the water.

You could see as he cupped her ass in his hands, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed passionately in front of you-

And you wanted, no, needed to be a part of that, your body already moving towards them before you were able to stop yourself. You turned back to the edge of the pool, feeling hot and dizzy with need like you had been earlier at Rita’s. Quickly, you set your drink on the smooth stone at the edge of the pool and took a few deep breaths.

These are your friends. They’re married. Stop being a whore-

Arms wrapped around you, and Feyre’s soft chest met your back. “Hi darling, not getting too lonely, are you?” She asked lowly in your ear, then pressed a soft trail of kisses from behind your ear all the way down your neck and onto your shoulder. You were leaning back against her by the time she came back up to your ear, lightly tugging on it with her teeth. “Turn around for me, sweetness,” she told you, hands helping move you where she wanted. “Perfect,” Feyre said breathily, before leaning down and pressing her lips against yours softly. The feel of her plush lips on yours was perfect, so gentle and warm. After a few seconds her tongue darted out, and you let her take control of the kiss, dominating your mouth with hers as she pushed you back against the wall of the pool.

When the two of you came up for air, you were filled with need so great you thought you might burst. You noticed a strong, tan pair of arms caging the two of you against the pool wall, and looked up to meet Rhys’s gaze. His violet eyes were filled with lust, matching the grey blue eyes of his wife that were also locked on yours. “What do you say darling? Be ours?” He asked, eyes darting down to your lips.

You tried to think about it, really think about it, but one of Feyre’s hands was between your thighs again, pushing past the tiny bikini and playing with your clit. Your eyes fell shut at her touch, a moan already making its way past your lips.

“Please,” you whined, not fully sure what you were begging for, you just knew that you needed more.

One thick finger slid into you, nearly as big as both of Feyre’s were earlier, and another moan fell from your lips, this one going into Feyre’s shoulder where you’d collapsed into her, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Oh, sweetness, I think it’s time,” Feyre said, disconnecting herself from you. “Get her into the bathroom, Rhys,” she ordered, already pulling herself out of the pool.

You were barely keeping yourself up, but Rhys moved closer to you, pulling you in to his chest. His kissed you gently, drawing a sweet sigh from your lips before he stopped and pushed you up onto the ledge of the pool, then followed you up. He helped you stand, and picked you up after you nearly fell after three steps.

“Silly girl, don’t worry, we’ll have you all nice and comfy in bed soon,” Rhys said, carrying you into the bathroom, where Feyre was already naked and rinsing off. “You got to dress her, I get to undress her,” Rhys snapped at Feyre when she tried to come over to you. She rolled her eyes, but stayed under the stream of water, waiting for both of you.

Rhys slowly peeled the bikini off of you, taking his time to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples hard enough to make you gasp, and grazing his fingers over your sensitive clit teasingly a few times. As soon as you were bare Feyre came over and pulled you back into the shower while Rhys rid himself of his swim trunks.

The warm spray felt nice on your skin again, especially paired with the gentle touches of the couple surrounding your senses. One of them gently guided your face under the spray of water, and the other cleaned your face with a familiar smelling soap. They rinsed your face carefully, then shut the water off and four hands began drying you off. Once your face was dry you opened your eyes to see Feyre’s pretty ones staring back at you.

“Let’s get your skincare done, sweetness,” she suggested, leading you over to the counter after Rhys had finished drying your body. Feyre applied a toner, moisturizer and eye cream, all of them the same ones that you used daily.

“That’s funny…” you said, trailing off.

“What is, darling?” Rhys asked from where he was stood behind you, arms encircling your torso. You stared at his thick arms, how muscular they are… then you realized that you could feel him- hard and pressed against your lower back. “What’s funny?” He whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what he was talking about.

You didn’t respond. More like couldn’t, when his lips started sucking a deep, purple mark onto your neck and Feyre’s lips covered your own hungrily.

You were nothing but a quivering, needy mess when they pulled away, but luckily for you it was just to move you into the bedroom, onto their massive bed.

“Finally,” Feyre groaned at the sight of you spread out in the middle of their bed, your legs kept apart by their hands. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste this sweet pussy?” She asked you, looking expectantly down at your face. “Hmm?” She tapped her thumb on your clit twice, making your hips twitch. You shook your head. “Since the moment I met you. I knew that I needed to have you, that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you weren’t mine and Rhys’s,” Feyre explained, now rubbing small, even circles on your clit. “And luckily for me, well, Rhys has a pretty big breeding kink and once he saw you…” Feyre grinned down at you, eyes soft.

“I knew I had to have you as well,” Rhys finished for her, his head already dipping down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Your back arched as he teased it with his tongue, and between that and Feyre’s fingers you came quickly, breathy moans escaping your lips until Rhys’s mouth was over yours again. “Fuck, you are absolutely perfect,” he groaned.

Feyre fingers had moved away from you, and you were about to whine at the lack of stimulation before her mouth, warm and wet, began devouring you. She lapped up the slick that had leaked from you greedily before moving up to your clit. Feyre slowly licked at your sensitive bud, building up your pleasure once more as Rhys kissed you and played with your breasts, swallowing up the endless moan leaving you. When you were finally able to lift your head an look down at Feyre, you saw that she was grinding her thighs together as she ate you out with her eyes closed, and the sight of her so focused on your pleasure bringing you to the brink once more. You could hardly think when she climbed over you and kissed you, before moving up your body again and seating herself over your face.

Without a thought you flicked your tongue out, moaning at how wet she already was- for you.

Your arms came up to hold onto her thighs as licked at her center hungrily, sure that you had that same expression on your face that she had worn just moments before. You were happily sucking on your clit when you felt your legs being parted by-

Rhys was pushing in to you, the movement of his cock eased by how slick you were, and you moaned into Feyre’s cunt.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” Feyre ordered breathlessly as she ground her hips down onto your face, forcing you to give she needs. She came on your face right as Rhys fully seated himself inside of you, all of the breath leaving your lungs as he did.

“Fey, she feels amazing. So tight and hot, I don’t know that I’ll ever leave the house again,” Rhys remarked as he began moving in and out of you slowly, letting your cunt adjust to his size as much as it could.

“Good thing we don’t have to for the next week,” Feyre said, still working her hips over your mouth, keeping your senses entirely filled by herself and her husband. Rhys started picking up the pace soon, letting one of his thumb graze over your clit every few seconds, your walls gripping him tighter in response. “Mm, fuck,” Feyre moaned, cumming on your face again, letting her hips twitch over you a few times before climbing off of you and sliding down so she could kiss your swollen lips. “We have plenty of time to train our new little pet.

“Train-?” You started to ask, but Feyre covered your mouth with hers once more, using her fingers to take over for Rhys’s thumb on your clit.

Moans were spilling out of you again whenever your mouth was unoccupied, which wasn’t often. Rhys has figured out just the angle to hit to make you see stars, barely even needing Feyre’s fingers to topple over the edge before Rhys followed you, slotting his hips tightly against yours as he emptied his cum into you.

After he pulled out he kissed you tenderly, fingers pushing as much of his cum back into you as possible as he did so. Your cunt fluttered around the tips of his fingers, so sensitive to every little touch now.

Feyre had disappeared, but came back into the room from the bathroom, a wet wash cloth in hand, and she carefully cleaned off your face.

“I guess we could have waited to do the skincare, hmm?” Feyre asked amusedly, taking in how wrecked you looked already.

“It was just a different kind of facial, darling,” Rhys said, humor in his voice. “Besides, her face is bound to get dirty again before the morning.”

“I suppose that’s true, her mouth is like magic Rhys, I’m sure with a little training she’ll be just as perfect at it as you are,” Feyre said, her thoughts already drifting to riding your face once more.

You were nearly asleep by the time Feyre was done cleaning your face, barely registering the feeling of something being wrapped around your throat and a gentle snick of something latching shut, but you were too tired to think about anything as Feyre and Rhys settled in around you, keeping you secure between their arms.

Lemme know if you guys want a part 2 🫣

[beesays]

Hot for Teacher || Chapter Five

Pairing: Teacher AU Feysand

Rating: E

Summary:

When art teacher Feyre Archeron calls out Superintendent Dr. Rhysand Sterling at a board meeting, she doesn't expect any of her problems to be solved, and she certainly doesn't expect him to show up at Velaris High with a personal mission to fix all of them.

----

Note:

Hi! Did you miss me? (probably not!)

A huge thank you to my betas and support group as I grappled with life, while also trying to get this chapter out. I couldn't ask for a better group of weirdos.

Oh! Also, we have art!!!

___

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

[dawneternal]

⊹ Gwyn x Azriel Modern college AU

⊹ Summary: Nesta has been trying to throw Azriel and Gwyn together for a while now. When a group project comes along, Nesta snags Az for their group so the pair are finally forced to interact.

To make matters more complicated, Gwyn accidentally sends the wrong document to the group, replacing the writing assignment with a smutty chapter of fanfiction.

Things only bloom from there, forcing Gwyn to either let down her walls or lose a friendship that has become important to her.

Prepare for fluff, angst, classic college tropes, and some cheesiness

⊹ Warnings: Gwyn struggles with social anxiety and PTSD. Talk of past hospitalizations due to mental health (no graphic details.) other characters have struggles with mental health. There will be talk of past trauma including assault. More warnings included before each chapter. <3

⊹ Word Count: 2.1k

⊹ AO3 Link

Gwyn was lost in her own world, silently tapping her foot to the song stuck in her head. She scribbled in the corner of her notebook with sweater sleeves pulled up over her chilly fingers. Nesta would let her know if she missed anything important. 

So she let the classroom fade into nothing as she thought of lines for her next fanfiction chapter. Fanfiction for Vow of Roses, her favorite half-fantasy, half-romance book series. Writing the next chapter would be her reward for surviving another week of school. Now she was just biding time until she could get back to her room and dissolve into a word document. 

Nesta gave Gwyn a gentle nudge just as the professor announced, “You’ll complete this next assignment in groups of four. If you really can’t manage to get into groups yourself, I’ll mediate. But at least try, first.” 

The moment the sentence had ended, Nesta turned and waved her hand. 

“Az!” She shouted, ignoring the disappointed sigh of a girl seated behind them. Azriel flashed Nesta a smile. 

Gwyn’s stomach sank as her mind struggled to return to reality. This was the boy Nesta was determined to set her up with. The boy that every other girl in the class seemed to be competing for. When Nesta straightened in her seat and caught Gwyn’s incredulous look, she only raised her eyebrows and shrugged. 

“What?” Nesta tossed her braid over her shoulder, “We don’t know anyone else in this class.”

The room was full of murmurs and shuffling as the class split up into groups. Azriel took the seat across from Nesta, gently setting his stack of books on the table. Gwyn dared to take a peak at him as he was busy searching his backpack for something or other. 

He was gorgeous, as always, only adding to her churning anxiety. 

His inky black hair was messy, forming perfect curls by his ears and neck. He had a variety of tattoos scattered over his tan skin, interspersed with freckles. And his eyes were, of course, beautiful. Glowing amber even in the gross classroom lighting, framed with long dark lashes. The earrings he wore caught the light and glittered, almost matching the flecks of gold that ringed his pupils.

Gwyn turned her gaze away before he could catch her looking.

He finally gave up his search, leaning forward to ask Nesta something, but he was interrupted by textbooks slamming down on the empty corner of the table. 

“No one else wants me,” A boy named Connor announced with a grin, slumping down in the last empty chair. 

Gwyn did not know him well, only enough to guess that she’d prefer just about anyone else to join this project. Including one of the girls who was constantly vying for Azriel's favor. Azriel didn’t look too happy about the prospect of Connor either, mouth spreading into a thin line. Nesta scowled, her eyes gleaming with a promise of cruelty. 

“No strays? Perfect,” The Professor proclaimed, and launched into the details of the group project. Solidifying their fate.

Gwyn only half-listened, distracted this time by anxiety and not daydreams. She did not know Azriel very well, either. He was Nesta’s friend, chosen-brother to her boytoy Cassian. 

He seemed nice enough, but social anxiety does not often seem to care about the niceness of people. He was still a stranger, and now he was in her space with his dizzying smell without proper time for her to adjust.

And as for Connor, he was a wildcard. He was the sort of unpredictable that was a nightmare for her anxiety. He could be decent one minute and make a disgusting misogynistic joke the next. Or decide to throw something at you as a “prank.” He also seemed desperate for any scrap of attention from any girl in the class and determined to get it in the most obnoxious ways possible.

This was a lot to handle in a short amount of time. Gwyn had her books shoved into her backpack before the class was dismissed, ready to bolt the second the big hand hit 3:30. As the professor recapped important information, Gwyn breezed out the door. She was out of the classroom before Nesta could stop her and tucked into the alcove by the water fountain before the stream of students could overtake her. Luckily, Connor did not pursue her. 

The hallway had mostly cleared by the time Nesta made her way to Gwyn, Azriel following behind her. Gwyn had not realized how tall he was. Nesta was on the shorter side, but Azriel towered over her.

“You good?” Nesta asked, eyebrows raised high. She recognized the signs of panic, but she would not say so in front of Azriel.

Gwyn nodded, wondering how silly she looked just then, hood up and knees to her chest. It had been a while since her anxiety had been triggered like that, but it was her own fault for letting her mind drift so far. If she’d looked at the syllabus and not her doodles, she would’ve been prepared. Maybe they could've scoped their fourth group member ahead of time.

“Good,” Nesta declared, “Because we’re getting ice cream. Come with us? Group project bonding time.” 

Gwyn’s gaze shifted to Azriel and she found that he was watching her, waiting for an answer. He gave her a soft smile that soothed her nerves just a touch. 

“I can’t,” She said, though she returned Azriel’s smile, “I have a couple of things to finish up before dinner. Text me the project details?” 

“Fine,” Nesta sighed, “But you’re coming next time.” 

Gwyn watched them go, chest tightening with the feeling of missing out. But she wasn’t up to it, today. She shook the self-deprecating thoughts from her head and hauled herself up from the ground. She went back to that song that had been stuck in her head, humming it aloud to block out the torrent of ‘just try harder’ as she began the trudge back to her dorm room. 

This was better than ice cream. Layered under fuzzy blankets, lights dimmed and some angry rock song blaring in her headphones. Gwyn shifted her focus back and forth between her latest fanfiction chapter and the assignment for the group project. On one tab of her computer she had pulled up moodboards and fan art for writing inspiration. A volume of Vow of Roses lay on her desk, pages full of underlines and sticky notes open for reference.

As for the project, she still did not like the group aspect but the writing was easy. She’d have it finished up and sent off in a little while and then she didn’t have to think about it for the rest of the weekend. The fanfiction flowed even easier, scenes and similes appearing on the page and erasing every qualm from the day.

Emerie, her roommate, lay in her own bed across the room, singing to the theme-song of her show in increasingly goofy voices.

“Hey!” She shouted, loud enough to be sure Gwyn could hear it through her music.

“What?” Gwyn lifted one ear of her headphones. 

“Hurry up with that chapter, I want to read it before my shower,” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. 

“You’re gross,” Gwyn laughed, swooping to pick up a dirty sock from the floor and toss it at her roommate's bed.

“You’re the one who writes it,” Emerie scoffed, flicking the sock off her bed. She pressed play on her laptop and continued singing along. 

Gwyn returned to her document, putting the finishing touches on the ending paragraph. Emerie was also a huge Vow of Roses fan, as was Nesta. But neither had managed to uncover Gwyn's secret blog yet, so they impatiently waited for updates via email.

Pleased with herself, Gwyn attached the file to the waiting email draft and pressed send.

“Just sent it,” Gwyn called. Emerie squealed and jumped from the bed, grabbing her phone and shower caddy. 

“See you later,” She sang, throwing a towel over her shoulder and heading for the showers. 

Not too long later, Gwyn was half-asleep watching a period drama on her computer, box of goldfish in her lap. She was done being productive for the day and ready to let her brain turn into mush. Maybe she'd even skip dinner and just eat snacks here in bed.

Then her phone rang, pulling her from her stupor. Nesta's contact photo popped up on the screen.

“Hello?” She sang into the phone, reaching into the box for another handful of crackers. 

“Hey babe, you sent the group the wrong file,” Nesta said the words in a rush.

“What?” Goldfish crackers scattered to the floor. 

“Yeah, you sent us the smut you wrote,” Nesta sighed, like it pained her to say it. Like she knew what it would mean to Gwyn. 

Shit. Fuck.

“No,” Gwyn whined, rushing to open her email and pull up her recently sent messages. 

Sure enough, Emerie had received the writing assignment, and the group had received her newly finished chapter. Complete with the subject line ‘here you go, pervert.’

“I’m going to die,” Gwyn whispered into the phone. 

“You can unsend it, right? That’s a feature they have now?” 

“In like, the first 30 seconds after you sent it,” Gwyn wailed, “I have to say something and apologize. This is so embarrassing.” 

“I'm sorry sweetheart. Connor may be a dick, but I know Azriel would never use it to tease you.”

“You're sure?” Gwyn chewed her lip and pressed her hand to her warm face. She already struggled to act normal in front of Azriel, between Nesta's schemes and his unearthly beauty. He did not need another reason to think she was strange.

“I'm sure. And if he does I'll kick his ass and so will his brothers.”

Then, Gwyn heard a stifled giggle through the phone. 

“Nesta, don't laugh!” She cried.

“I mean, it was really good smut at least,” Nesta soothed. 

“Goodbye,” Gwyn growled and hung up. Which was maybe too harsh, but she’d worry about it later. Nesta was not easily perturbed, anyways. Or she'd be too busy laughing to care. 

“This sucks this sucks this sucks,” Gwyn muttered, burying her head in the pile of fuzzy blankets. 

In her experience, there weren’t many people out there who understood what writing meant to her. In the past few years, it had become more than a pastime. It was a tool she utilized to ease her brain through a very painful healing process. It was catharsis. Even the smut was a part of that.

And she had just sent that chapter to two people who were among the least likely to get it. Or the least likely for her to ever share those vulnerable thoughts with. 

They would just tease her, probably. That would be all. But she was not ready to be teased. It was still too painful, like salt in fresh wounds. Not to mention that teasing was the enemy of her social anxiety. It never failed to rid her brain of all common sense. And when embarrassment guided her actions, she always did something stupid.

“Hey,” Emerie laughed as she entered their shared room, hair damp from the shower, “That was definitely not spicy. What happened?” 

She took in Gwyn’s miserable face and teary eyes and dropped her things to rush forward. “Oh no, honey, what’s wrong?” 

Gwyn explained her mistake, and Emerie listened intently. She held Gwyn’s head in her lap and fed her goldfish crackers as she cried. Emerie knew the depth of her struggles, some of which they had in common. She brushed strands of copper hair from her face and diligently watched episodes of the favored period drama until her friend felt a little better. 

“Azriel is the boy that Nesta’s been throwing at you?” Emerie asked, after a long silence. Gwyn hummed an affirmation. 

“He’s pretty,” Emerie said. Cautiously. 

“Suspiciously pretty,” Gwyn answered. Her opposition to Nesta’s set up was not so much about his looks, but her own apprehension towards strangers. And the burden of her mental health, bound to ruin any relationship. There were already too many burned bridges in her past. 

But also, Azriel was ethereally beautiful. There had to be a secret underneath it. 

“He could be the exception,” Emerie said, her voice soft. But Gwyn ignored it.

“I think I'd rather have sent that email to my parents by accident,” She grumbled. Emerie chuckled and shook her head, wisely saying nothing more about the beautiful hazel-eyed boy.

Before they went to sleep, Emerie typed a message to the group on Gwyn's behalf, apologizing and imploring them not to open the document if they hadn't already. The sting had eased up some, but Gwyn was still not looking forward to the consequences of this mistake. The thought of Azriel reading any number of the salacious lines she'd written had her blushing all over again.