we meet. we fall in love. we're meant to be. we can't stop ourselves. i give up everything inside me, and it stops. the movie just stops. i don't know how it ends.
Not to be alarmist, but the next chapter of Show Me The Stars is almost ready to be posted! This little fucker has challenged me for the last two months, but I finally got the better of it.
Snippet below the cut - it's Cassian's house party and it's a hot one 😉
II
“Oh, I’m good.” Is he nuzzling her hair with his nose, or is she imagining that? “Did you miss me?”
Either way, she can’t help but tilt her head, granting him better access. “Mm. A little.”
“I missed you. In fact, I-”
He straightens up and she realises the other two are back. She pulls his arm away, making him release her, but it’s too late. Cassian and Azriel’s knowing looks are the definition of smug.
She refuses another shot. The two she’s had in the last two minutes are already zinging their way to her brain. Rhys moves to her side, his dark blue eyes glinting as they finally meet hers, as he knocks back both his drink and hers. Then his gaze travels lazily, deliberately down her body, and there’s no mistaking the darkness that takes over his features. He wants her.
Holy fuck.
For the past month she’s grown used to the sensation of fluttering butterflies whenever she sees him. But now, after Wednesday night and with all of their growing feelings for one another, it’s so much more than that. Now it’s visceral, like some divine hand is deep inside her abdomen, grabbing hold of the very core of her being and tugging hard. It steals her breath away; makes her heart stutter behind her ribs. You’re so hot, she wants to tell him, helplessly. Like an accusation. It’s not fair that one man can be so devastatingly sexy, can have this much of an effect on her with a single look.
“How does it feel to be old, Cass?” Rhys asks, still staring at her, and his jibe manages to register in the small part of her brain that remains present in the room - so much so that she playfully hits him on the arm. “Ouch!”
“You’re such a fucker,” she breathes, and his housemates laugh.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Rhys says with a smirk. “You’re not old. You’re perfectly mature.”
“You have more freckles now than when we met. I love them. They’re almost my favourite thing about you.”
“What’s your favourite thing about me?” she breathes. The entire world has disappeared. They could be standing on the moon for all she cares.
His smile grows wider. “Everything else.”
Chapter 7: My favourite thing about you (AO3)
Thank you for the love on the previous chapter! Hope you enjoy this <3
Feysand modern AU, set in beautiful sunny Australia.
Feyre is a feminist. She firmly believes that her orgasms belong entirely to her, and not to anyone else. She’s never come for a man before; only ever for her own pleasure. But for her young, sexy barista, with the most devilish grin she’s ever seen - she would come, over and over again. She would beg him to say it, to command her.
Come for me, darling.
Wedding Season
Pairing: Feysand
Rating: NSFW
Summary: A series of Feyre and Rhys being cute and loved up (and horny) at other people's weddings. First up: Elain's.
She’d much rather be back at the hotel being fucked by her boyfriend until she forgets her own name. (AO3 link)
What do you do when you have no free time and multiple WIPs? Write something new, of course. (I am the worst. I'm sorry.)
Here's a snippet of fluffy smutty modern AU Feysand being all cute and loved up (and horny) at other people's weddings. It belongs in the future of my It Was Always You universe, but can stand alone.
Enjoy!
II
The first wedding Feyre and Rhys attend together is her sister Elain’s, eight weeks into their relationship. They are very much still deep in their frenzy which is fortunate, because Feyre still hates weddings. It’s been almost two years since her own: the day she made the biggest mistake of her life. She can still remember the cold dread in her gut, as heavy as the whole world. A warning she was forced to ignore, because by the time their extravagant, eye-wateringly expensive day came around, it was impossible to pull out.
Rhys had been there, as her best friend. Had sat outside with her during the reception and they’d shared a moment which had shaken her to her very core. She’d always wondered what would have happened if he’d admitted he loved her, right there on the steps of the picturesque countryside castle. Would she have run away with him, if he’d invited her to? There’s a very strong chance she might have.
But. They don’t dwell on the past, only take lessons from it. Like listening to their guts. Like always being honest. And they got here in the end: post-therapy, whole and happy and more in love than she ever knew it was possible to be. She is obsessed with Rhys. Everything about him makes her smile, makes her heart swell, makes her horny - which is why, at exactly the same moment the bridal party is due to leave for the church, Feyre is reaching the peak of a mind-blowing orgasm.
Outside the grand, ivy-covered hotel there’s the noise of two vintage engines running and white ribbons fluttering in the summer breeze, and her oldest sister saying Where the fuck is she? and her next oldest sister, the bride, replying just a little nervously Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be here any second.
Inside, on their four-poster bed, the soft sounds of Rhys’s tender kisses on her pussy are drowned by her moans and pants and Ohmygodfucks as she comes down from her high. He had taken one look at her in her bridesmaid dress, the burnt orange silk clinging to her every curve, and his dark blue eyes had got that look in them she already knew so well.
I am going to devour you.
Rhys is a feral predator where she is concerned. He wants her constantly - and she is just as bad. This is the phase they’re in: wild, fiery obsession. Lookateachotherandburstintoflame vibes. Plus, he is always very keen to eat her out, and very fucking good at it. Once, in their early days together in his house in Cornwall, he’d kissed his way up her body with slick, wet lips and murmured in her ear: “Feyre darling, I could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
And some days he does - even when it’s going to make her late to her own sister’s wedding.
She opens her mouth to speak and then bites her bottom lip instead, unable to decide what to do.
Rhys frowns. “Don’t do that,” he says.
“What?”
“Bite your lip.” A group of people push past them on their way out, knocking him into her. Suddenly they’re pressed together, and he looks very serious as he murmurs: “It’s too fucking sexy, Feyre. I can’t handle it.”
“Stop,” she breathes.
“No. You stop.”
In which Rhys gets both sweaty and romantic (not at the same time, sadly... yet) and Feyre develops a bad habit.
Most of my uni work is in the lab, he tells her. Building computer models and running endless numbers. But actually getting out here and looking up at the sky is what it’s all about. The conditions are perfect right now. It’s phenomenal.
And then: I wish I could show it to you in real life.
Feyre presses hand to her chest, over the place she feels her heart hurt. He is too cute. Too romantic. Too fucking forbidden.
“Maybe you need to- ”
“Don’t,” she warns, knowing exactly what he’s about to say.
He grins at her as he completely ignores her. “-Date a guy in his twenties. No baggage. Emotionally available. Plus: much better stamina.”
“Come with me.”
Rhys’s voice beside her ear sends a shiver all the way through her. She glances up at him and his big smile makes her knees feel weak. Then his palm in on the small of her back, guiding her forwards towards the stairs, and she allows it without any resistance. He could take her anywhere right now, do anything to her, with the way the wine has softened her edges. Her willpower.
Thank you for all the likes and shares, I hope you're enjoying these two cute little Aussie lovebirds.
Here you go, over to AO3...
It was madness to hire him, this twenty-two year old astrophysics student with eyes as blue as the ocean and a smirk so sexy she immediately pictured it between her legs. But hire him she did - and she soon realised she was entirely fucked.
Or: Serious businesswoman Feyre moves across the country, hires Rhys to work for her and consequently falls in love.
Part IX: Feyre
This contains my most favourite Rhys moment I've ever written. And Feyre having some revelations, which she promptly denies. And some dark discussions.
And wingplay.
I stared at him, my heart pounding. I didn’t think I’d ever paint again; didn’t think I’d ever want to.
“I don’t have a brush,” I protested.
He lifted my fingertips to his mouth and kissed them. “Yes you do.”
Part VIII: Rhys
It's me again, and so soon! I have spent every spare minute this week finishing this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!
“Just so you know,” I said to Feyre as I set her down beside my bed, “You are the first female I have ever brought in here.”
Her eyes held mine in the warm faelight glow. Then she began to take off her clothes: piece by piece, until everything was gone. She was so devastatingly beautiful I couldn’t breathe.
“Was I worth the wait?”
Wow, it's been an age since I updated this! Our sweet little healing lovers return to Velaris from below the Wall, and set some ground rules for their relationship. I hope you enjoy it <3
Hours passed, loud and vibrant and full of love. The food kept coming, rich and savoury plates followed by desserts - and Amren’s goblet of blood, which made Feyre turned sickly pale - until we had to start declining. I had eaten less than I usually would. I didn’t want to be uncomfortably full. Not tonight. I wanted to take Feyre to my bed and worship her until dawn.
I had been watching her the entire evening. I still joined in the conversation and banter but I was always attuned to her. And finally, as the darkness drew in, as the music from nearby streets became more lively, inviting patrons to stand and dance and sing, I decided we had behaved ourselves for long enough.
“Come here,” I said softly, beckoning to her across the table. “Sit with me.”
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