#feysand fluff

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

Feysand love gives me lifeeee💛✨💫🌟💙

-this beautiful piece is by alexandraczerw_art

[sapphicmsmarvel]

feysand: lazy mornings

a little lazy morning drabble showing how badly i want to experience a lazy morning with my partner (i dont have one yet but that's not the point!)

It was rare for Rhys to actually sleep in. He felt restless, his brothers were the same way for the record. 

But you and Feyre were sleepy girls. 

You’d try to get up and train with Rhys. You cherished your partners together, but you’ve all found that solo dates and rituals with each other helped build your bonds. 

You sometimes made it out in time to go run with him or train around Velaris. 

But usually, Feyre pulled you back into bed. It was pretty easy for her to convince you to go back to bed. She just had to get you to touch the bed after getting up and you’d melt right into the mattress. Didn’t help that Rhys had to have the bougiest mattress in the land. 

He didn’t mind that you didn’t join him a lot. He liked to be alone sometimes. As much as he loved you around him, he needed to chill by himself.  

Plus nothing beat coming home and finding the two women he loved more than anything sleeping in bed tangled in each other. 

Lazy mornings only happened when the night before was rough. Whether that be from nightmares (all three of you dealt with those), or your panic or anxiety attacks. 

Your home was where the wait of everything didn’t matter. You all could breathe. 

You loved when he would come back to bed after a bath, smelling like fresh citrus and sea breeze. A clean musky scent. You always would sniff him aggressively when he came back in. Sometimes, he would just bring you two breakfast and wake you with sweet, sleepy, soft kisses. But other times, he would crawl back into bed with you two. 

You treasured being squished between Feyre and Rhysand. Feyre’s soft chest pressed against your back, Rhysand’s pecs as pillows at your front. Arms and legs tangled, not knowing where one of you began and the others ended. 

With you, the both of them have learned to cherish the sleepy calm moments, and to savor them. 

You loved lazy mornings.

[inkedinshadows]

18 with Feysand djsjjdjs

Five More Minutes

Pairing: Feysand

Word count: 551

Warnings: none

18 - back hugs in the morning

(fluff writing game)

Rhys could never get enough of his mate—of that he was sure.

Whenever Feyre was near, his hands would automatically reach for her. A brush of their fingers, a caress along her arm, a hand at her back…

He couldn't help himself. He needed to touch her. And if she wasn't near, he'd go to her.

Rhys got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, where Feyre was getting ready in front of the mirror. Her reflection smiled at him as his arms slipped around her waist, drawing her back against his bare chest.

“Are you sure you can't come back to bed?” His lips brushed the skin of her neck as he spoke, soft like a feather. “Just five more minutes?”

Feyre playfully flicked his forehead. “No,” she replied, turning back to the mirror. “You already asked for five more minutes, and that was fifteen minutes ago. Now I'm late.”

But Rhysand didn't give up. His arms tightened around her, and he rested his chin on her shoulder, watching as she finished doing her makeup.

“I'm sure Mor would understand,” he mumbled.

“Rhys,” she chided, “I promised her we'd have breakfast together.”

He shrugged, then a sly smirk appeared on his lips. “I'm the High Lord,” he said. “I could make her reschedule. Or order that bakery to take a day off.”

Feyre chuckled, eyes on the mirror. “Are you pulling rank to keep me here?”

Rhys only hummed, pressing a kiss to her jaw. She drew a black line on his nose with her mascara, then laughed again as she put it away.

He lifted a brow. “That was uncalled for.”

“Uncalled for?” Feyre turned in his embrace, looping her arms around his neck. “I'd say it's very much deserved for threatening to pull ranks like that.”

He gave her an exaggeratedly offended look. “It was merely a suggestion, darling.”

“Fine,” she replied with a grin. “Then here's a suggestion from your High Lady.”

His eyes gleamed at the mention of her title. His fingers slightly dug into her waist as she leaned in to murmur in his ear.

“Don't even think about ruining my breakfast with Mor.”

He couldn't lie—he was disappointed. And judging by Feyre's low chuckle as she pulled back, she knew it too.

But she only looked at him.

“Alright,” he finally gave in. “Go on and abandon your mate to see his cousin instead.”

She rolled her eyes. “You're a few centuries too old to be acting like a baby, Rhys.”

But then she drew him closer for a kiss, and no matter how many times their lips met, it would never be enough for him.

“I really have to go now,” Feyre said after they broke apart. “I'll see you in a few hours?”

Rhysand held her close for a moment longer before finally letting her go.

“Always,” he answered. Then he smirked. “And then we can finally have those five minutes?”

She shook her head, already heading toward the bedroom door. “You're impossible.”

Rhys smiled at the affection in her voice. He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching as Feyre stopped after opening the door.

She glanced back to him.

“Oh, and good luck getting that mascara off your nose.” She flashed him a grin. “It's waterproof.”

Taglist: @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[reverie-tales]

Christmas Drabble

Word count: 161

Feyre was glowing. The Christmas tree lights lit up her face as she smiled, contentedly hanging a silver ball ornament covered with Nyx's little blue handprint.

They learned today that attempting to decorate the living room for Christmas while trying to distract your toddler with finger painting wasn't the wisest decision.

Feyre declared it perfect anyhow, with memorabilia for them to keep for years to come.

Leaving the kitchen, Rhys approached his wife, carrying Nyx nibbling on a sugar cookie.

Attempting to share his cookie with his mother, Nyx waved it over her mouth. "Mewwy Chismas, Mama."

Feyre took a small bite, leaving a bigger portion behind for Nyx to enjoy, but beamed in delight as if it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. "Yum. Merry Christmas, Baby."

Nyx giggled, stealing more of his parents' hearts.

Wrapping his free hand around Feyre, Rhys whispered to her ear. "Indeed, Christmas is perfect with both my loves in my arms."

Dividers by strangergraphics

[sonics-atelier]

36/feysand

Okay, I was admittedly a bit confused at first- I'm assuming this was sent by mistake. That said, I refuse to pass up on an opportunity to demonstrate my range as a writer and prove to the fandom that I can write compellingly for ships I don't personally favor. Although I made it yuri.

From the Microstory Asks!

Her Muse - Feyre x Fem Rhysand - In Control

. . .

Moonlight pooled across the silk sheets like spilled starlight, pale and gleaming against the warm curves of the woman Feyre loved. Rhysand lay back against the pillows, her raven hair tumbling around her like shadows kissed by dusk, violet eyes aglow with quiet amusement and something deeper - something older than the stars themselves.

Feyre’s fingers traced the line of Rhys’s jaw, the slope of her collarbone, the soft press of her sternum where her heartbeat fluttered beneath skin like polished obsidian. She could paint her like this, Feyre thought. Could immortalize her in hues of indigo and pearl, the way her mouth quirked with mischief even as her lashes fluttered like moth wings, unsure where pleasure ended and devotion began.

“I could worship you,” Feyre murmured, lips brushing the hollow of Rhysand’s throat. “Not as High Lady. Not even as your mate. Just… as you.”

A soft exhale escaped Rhys, but her body trembled - whether from the cool air or Feyre’s touch, it didn’t matter. The world was narrowed down to skin and breath and the scent of jasmine and sea salt. Feyre’s kisses were reverent, like prayers spoken in the dark. Down her chest, across her stomach, along the sharp edge of a hipbone that jutted like a crescent moon through the shadows.

Rhysand sighed her name like it was both question and answer. Feyre’s hands framed her thighs with care, guiding, encouraging, worshiping with quiet confidence.

“I want to taste how stars are made,” Feyre said with a grin, and Rhys laughed - a quiet, breathless sound that melted into a moan when Feyre lowered her mouth.

What followed was not frantic, but slow—devoted. The kind of intimacy born not just from desire, but from trust honed through battle and heartbreak, forgiveness and fire. Rhysand’s hands curled in the sheets, her back arching as Feyre held her steady through the storm of sensation, never once relinquishing control. There was no rush, no pretense - only Feyre - in control - guiding Rhys to a place where pleasure and vulnerability intertwined, where power gave way to surrender.

Later, when Rhysand’s breathing calmed and the moonlight had shifted to slant across the floor, Feyre lay curled against her, pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her jaw.

“I’m still painting you,” she whispered.

Rhys smiled, fingers combing through Feyre’s hair. “Then I’ll make sure you never run out of inspiration.”

. . .

[tadpolesonalgae]

Feysand x reader: Girls night

A/N: I sometimes forget that I’m capable of writing fluff? Or just a general fic with no smutty undertones and it’s quite a refreshing realisation!

Warnings: slight sexual undertones but nothing else :)

“Oh my gods.”

Feyre stares with wide eyes at the wine seeping into your dress. “I am so sorry!”

She grabs you by your upper arm, pulling you from the counter and up the stairs toward her bedroom. Well, her and Rhys’ room. Since they sleep together. And are married. And most importantly, mates.

You watch as your High Lady flings open one of her closets, rummaging through for something suitable for you to change into. Hastily, she pulls out a large top—far too big for either of you. She glances between you and her closet, debating how long it will take her to find something else that will work.

The shirt will have to do.

“Here,” she offers, walking over to you. “Put this on. I’ll remove the colour then it’ll go in the wash to be properly cleaned.”

“Are you sure? I can just—”

“Hurry! I’ll never look you in the eye again if I know I stained one of your dresses!” Your lips quirk up at her exaggeration, but lift the flowy fabric over your head, leaving you in a small set of underthings.

You’ve changed in the same room before, but something’s more subdued this time.

Her blue-grey eyes dip, only for a moment, to get and eyeful of your breasts. But then they remain where they are. She doesn’t drag her gaze away, and it’s just you before her, in nothing but a bra and matching underwear.

Her hand raises, tracing her finger over the roundness of your right breast. “I haven’t seen this one before?” Her thumb brushes over its peak—right over your nipple—and it’s an effort not to emit a tiny sound of pleasure at the ticklish touch. “Where’d you get it from?”

You swallow, and her eyes mark the roll of your throat. “You know the one,” you reply, surprised to find your voice is smooth and even. “Opposite the restaurant that’s a little down from Rita’s?”

“Ohhh,” she hums, fixated by the pretty lace adorning your skin. “That one.”

Then her fingers are dipping abruptly to the front of your underwear, hooking beneath their seam, and snapping the band against your skin. You flinch, flushing at the intimate act of chastisement. Her eyes narrow teasingly, “you went without me? I though we did all our shopping together?”

You groan, but smile, “Mor’s really rubbing off on you, you know that?”

“Is that who you went with? Did you go with Mor?”

You peer at her, features seemingly a little tense. “What?” You laugh, shaking your head, “no.” The strain seems to seep from her shoulders, and she manages a laugh, “good.”

“Good?” You look at her questioningly.

“That’s our thing,” she explains, “our girls trip out.”

“Ah,” you nod, smiling now, “I see. Rhys is also rubbing off on you.” She gives you a look, and you gently pry the shirt from her fingers as she watches you intently. “So territorial,” you laugh teasingly, donning the item of clothing.

She blinks, once, in surprise. “Gods,” she mutters, “I am.” A surprised laugh bubbles up from your throat and her eyes spark at the sound, grinning softly.

“You look good in that shirt,” she says, softly, thumbing the buttons of the shirt. “Yeah?” You ask, equally quiet, peering at her. She nods, fingers tracing downward—between the shape of your breasts. Acutely aware of the descending path.

“Well, hello there.”

You jump, taking a hasty step back, while Feyre merely looks a bit disappointed. “Feyre was just letting me borrow some clothing since my dress was…compromised,” you explain, fairly succinctly. Rhysand nods, closing the door behind him as he walks up to his mate. His arms glides around her waist, pulling her to his side as he presses a chaste kiss to her temple.

He then turns to you, and you extend your hand—habitual, at this point—allowing him to grasp it as he presses his soft mouth to your knuckles. Violet eyes flick to yours as he pulls away, dragging down your clothed figure intently. His gaze twinkles, “is that my shirt?” Embarrassment heats your skin, burning in the pit of your stomach, as you turn to Feyre expectantly, “is it?”

Her eyes run over you again, and shrugs. “Maybe. I can never remember anymore. More than a few things of Rhys’ have ended up in my closet,” she says, frowning slightly.

“Oh,” you manage, “I’ll wear something else, then. I didn’t realise—”

“It’s fine,” Rhys cuts in, firmly. His arm tightens around Feyre’s waist, both of them watching you with an intensity you’re unaccustomed to. “Besides,” he adds, grinning slowly, “it looks good on you.” You flush with pleasure, smiling gently, “thank-you.”

————

It’s a week before you see them next, while Rhys and you are in the library, searching for a book on the history of mythical creatures—records of the various legends of the beasts that perhaps once roamed the Courts.

Feyre walks in with two plates laden with food—roast potatoes with herbs and something red and spicy looking, a meat you would guess is chicken scattered with rosemary and thyme and some other seasonings you can’t distinguish, as well as some other tasty looking bits and pieces.

You sigh, standing from your crouching position, “I’ll try again next time—thanks for the help though,” you say to Rhys who’s searching the higher shelves. “I’d better get home to start on my own supper,” you add, the food sparking hunger in your stomach. “Don’t be silly,” Feyre chirps, setting the two plates on the table where a third appears at their side. “I could only carry two, and I can hear your stomach from over here, eat with us.”

You eye the plates, just as inviting as before, mouthwatering in its display of aromas. “Well, if you insist,” you laugh, not taking much convincing at all. Rhys chuckles from a few rows over, “good to know if we ever need to tempt you over, we need only offer you a hot meal and you’ll come scrambling back to us.”

“I would not scramble, Rhysand,” you huff indignantly, “I’d skitter and scamper. On eight legs.” Feyre snorts as she settles at the wooden table, cutlery and eating implements landing either side of her plate as she prepares to tuck in.

“You know, I’m not sure even in a book containing information on the known creatures of Prythian would you find one that transforms into an arachnid when lured with food,” Rhys comments, taking the seat opposite Feyre, leaving to take the head of the table. “Maybe you should have it updated, then,” you laugh, settling into you seat.

“I wonder what other strange things you would find in there,” Feyre muses softly.

An easy quiet descends as you tuck into your food—pleasant and simple. Beautiful.

It’s always easy with them.

————

“That reminds me,” Feyre says, dropping you off at your own home—a couple of streets down from the River House.

You turn in your doorstep, tipping your head inquisitively.

“Do you feel comfortable around Rhys and I?” She asks, a little too casually. You narrow your eyes at her, “why? Are you propositioning me?” You flick your hair over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes at her flirtatiously. She stiffens, “no…I just…” She doesn’t usually stutter? “I wanted to make sure you don’t feel left out,” she supplies after a moment.

You watch her closely, pausing. She’s off tonight, something’s strange. “What is it?” You ask, turning to face her fully, but she shakes her head, stepping to the lower stair. “It’s nothing. I just know Rhys and I can sometimes forget other people are in the room, sometimes,” she lies, surprised how smooth the untruth is from her tongue. “Oh,” you laugh, smiling broadly, “no, it’s fine. It’s nice seeing you two be so moony-eyed over one another.”

Still, she looks like she’s considering saying something more. You raise your brows encouragingly. “I…” she begins uncertainly. Then she shakes her head again, and stands straighter. “We both enjoy your company. Greatly,” she tells you, locking eyes. You flush at the compliment, feeling a little shy, waving your hand slightly dismissively, “that’s sweet of you, Fey. I…like spending time with the two of you—it’s easy. Conversing, I mean. I don’t really have to…” You pause for thought. “I feel like I don’t have to think around you two, I can just kind of…you know?”

Feyre smiles tentatively, and it’s enough to show there’s more that she’s not saying. You’re not sure whether to push it or not—surely she’ll tell you if she wants to. But she’s also your High Lady—she’ll know how to deflect a question if it makes her uncomfortable.

So you take a small step forward. “What is it?” You repeat softly, watching her. “I can tell something’s up with you, Fey. What’s going on?” Her smile is a bit sheepish—strained. As if she’s tense. Your brow furrows. “You’re worrying me, is something wrong? Is there something I did?”

“No—no. It’s— You haven’t done anything wrong,” she smiles again, stiffly.

You just watch her steadily, then take a risk. You’re sure she’ll make it clear if she wants you to let it drop. So you move toward her, taking her hands in your own, fingers sliding into her palms smoothly—as if designed for one another. “Tell me, Fey,” you murmur, “if something’s weighing you down, I want to be there. Even if you just want a bed for the night, or a hug, or someone to have tea with in the mornings—I want you to know I can be here for you in whatever way you want.”

She looks at your intertwined hands, then back up to your eyes. Then blows out a breath. “Okay,” she sighs, “fine.” You brace yourself for whatever burden is slumping her shoulders. “Rhys and I care for you. Deeply.” You barely have time to blink before she’s pushing forward. “Differently to how friends should care for each other,” she clarifies.

“I can speak both for him and myself when I say that we would like to be more open with our affections towards you. To be more…intimate, with you.” She pauses to take in a breath, hands loose on your own, allowing you to step away should you wish. In no way threatening. “That being said, if that is not something that interests you, or it makes you uncomfortable, neither of us will ever bring it up again. Just understand we…you’re incredibly dear to both of us, and we would like nothing more than for you to requite our feelings,” she finishes.

You manage a few more blinks, then take a step away. “Oh my gods,” you murmur, staring at her. “You are propositioning me.” As soon as the words leave you mouth, you shake your head in denial. “I don’t understand. Is this a joke? Are you joking? Did I do something to make one of you uncomfortable and this is your way of figuring out if there was something behind it? By seeing if I’m romantically interested in one or both of you?”

Feyre’s brow furrows at your words. “Not at all. This…we’re both serious. I can get Rhys over if you want to talk to him, too. We thought it would be easier for you to remain calm around me, if things went unfavourably,” she explains, watching you steadily; honestly.

“You—…” You look at her, bewildered, and feeling slightly sick. It’s a lot to digest. “You… Both of you…” you begin, selecting your words carefully. “Both of you…enjoy my company?” You ask slowly, almost analytically.

The female nods gently.

“So…—I’m sorry if I’ve gotten this wrong… You’re asking about my affections toward the two of you?”

She nods again.

“Okay,” you swallow. “Okay,” you repeat, breathing deeply. Better to get it out of the way. “I’ve found myself romantically attracted to you two for some time, now. I didn’t want to say anything for obvious reasons, and you were both so kind, and lovely that I thought I could make do with watching from a distance. I’ve never wanted to attempt to split you up, or made a conscious effort to pull one of your’s attention away from the other,” you manage, speaking in a straightforward, matter-of-fact tone.

“But, if you’re saying that each of you has an…interest,” you stammer over the word, “in…also. Then…I’m open to it. To both of you.” Now you’re flushing, heart pounding.

This time Feyre blinks, processing. “You…you’re attracted to us? To both of us?”

You flush more, skin heating across your body as you shift. “I don’t want to be too graphic,” you admit, looking away from her. “But, yes,” you murmur, “I’m attracted to both of you.”

Before she has a chance to say anything, you continue, “and I’ve felt awful about it, for years. Harbouring these feelings—I didn’t want them, and they always make me feel so guilty. Like I’m a spy or something trying to worm my way into your court, or break you apart. But I swear, I’ve never wanted that,” you practically plead. “I swear on everything that is good, I’ve never consciously acted on my feelings for either of you up until now.”

She staring at you, almost disbelievingly, and you wonder if you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“So…you’d like to be with us? You…I mean,” her voice is thick and rough with emotion, “you’d like to be ours? Share our things, eat meals with us, be with us?” She swallow heavily, “share our bed?” Heat swallows your body whole as you look away and dip your head in confirmation.

“You—” she stammers, moving forward to be in your space. “May I kiss you?” She asks hoarsely. You hardly manage a nod before her shaky fingers are sliding over the nape of your neck, pressing her soft lips to your own. Both your eyes slide shut, as you rest there, basking in the feeling of one another, indulging in the heat and the softness and the wonder.

Your hands settle nervously around her waist, one hand sliding up between her shoulder blades, pressing her against you. She moves with your guide, pliant beneath your fingertips, so malleable. Her own grip tightens on you as she pushes further, slanting her mouth as she retreats then washes in on you again.

When she pulls away, you’re both more than a little shaken, more than a little breathless.

“I…would you feel fine coming back to the River House, then? Staying the night?” She asks hopefully. You blink, then nod. You’re unable to comprehend how she’s capable of speech right now. She nods to herself, mirroring your confirmation. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that’ll work. Though if you need time to think— Or you want to go slower, just say,” she breathes, arms still over your shoulders while yours remain around her waist.

“Will you—” You clear your hoarse throat. “Do you want to walk back, or…?”

She nods, still breathless, “I’ll take you to the front door, then.”

————

You’re jittery, heart still pounding, when she winnows you to their house, opening the door and letting you inside.

“Does Rhys…” you begin, whispering. “I mean, have you told him?” Feyre shakes her head, “I can if you want?” You consider, arm linking tightly beneath her own, but then he appears in the hallway and you stiffen as his violet eyes take both of you in. His gaze weighs on your linked arms for a moment, before flicking away.

“You’re back,” he greets with a casual smile, walking toward the two of you. “Feyre convince you stay the night for some reading again?” He asks, stopping a little way from you both. Your eyes flick to Feyre’s but she nods toward Rhys, encouraging. You swallow thickly, eyes darting about before returning to his. “Feyre was…well, we were talking, and…and she said—well, it was a bit confusing. Not in general, but at first— I mean, we chatted, about…some things, and, well…” your arm tightens on Feyre’s and you feel heat flushing your skin with embarrassment and humiliation at your stammering.

You turn to Feyre, “I’m sorry. Can you do it? I don’t know how to…” you trail off, looking at her pleadingly. She smiles broadly, then turns her attention to a puzzling Rhysand. “She said yes.” You manage a tight-lipped smile as the male’s eyes widen a little, taking you in with a different intent.

But then his arms a spreading and Feyre’s letting you go as his hands wrap over your shoulders and he pulls you tight into his warmth, nose pressing into your hair as he takes in your scent. Behind you Feyre laughs softly at the sight, then Rhys is pulling her in too, and your front is pressed tight against his chest, while she’s firmly at your back, and you swear you could melt into a puddle of happiness between them.

“You’re really…” Rhys asks hoarsely into your hair, Feyre’s arm looping over your stomach while her free hand strokes the male’s upper arm soothingly. You nod into his chest gently, careful not to knock him, “yeah.” Your voice is raspy but you don’t care, not as Feyre holds both of you tighter, and Rhys presses a kiss to your hair. One of his hands brushes a stray strand from your cheek, pushing it back over your pointed ear, before curving around Feyre’s nape, keeping all three of you together.

Feysand Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @girlmadeofavocados @mali22

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Good To Be (Like You)

Nyx Archeron - Feysand - Slice of life - Fluff

Nyx really wants to be like his dad. His dad loves him just as he is.

“Maybe I'm not some chosen one but I'm my father's son and that's something I'm pretty proud to be.”

He happily sat at his art table concentrating on the paper beneath his fingers. He’d awoken this morning to the welcoming aroma of pancakes and bacon flowing into his room from the kitchen, received a warm hug and kiss from papa on the way out the door, and mama held his hand as they walked the streets of Velaris on the way to kindergarten.

Nyx’s bright eyes took in the morning bustle on the streets, noticing a smiling male and female stepping into a bakery along the Sidra that had a three-tiered cake in the window with colorful icing. His little wings rustled with excitement as he wondered if it was chocolate or vanilla and what his birthday cake this year would be. Last year it was strawberry.

Mama squeezed his hand and he looked up to see her pretty face smiling softly at him. “Did something at the bakery catch your eye, Nyxie?”

An adorable grin spread across his face. “Everything!

Feyre giggled, knowing just how much her little one loved sweets.

A black cat ran across the street ahead and Nyx exclaimed “Mama!” He tugged on her hand to hurry over to the little cat that didn’t scurry away from him, but instead brushed its head against his legs as it weaved between them, rubbing against him in friendly greeting. The cat’s wiry fur tickled his palms as he stroked its back.

“Good kitty” he cooed.

Feyre smiled as her boy with a heart for animals - even the scraggly strays, took his time gently petting the cat.

“You ready little one? We’ll be late if we hang around for too long.”

“Just another moment, mama.”

Feyre couldn’t say no, not when her sweet boy’s heart was so full of love to share.

“Alright, little one.”

A minute later, Nyx reminded himself that his father was never late. If he was to be a proper High Lord someday, he needed to be timely. So he stood, signaling letting his mother know that he was ready to continued walking.

They arrived to the school right on time. Mama bent down to kiss each of his cheeks and his forehead, eliciting a giggle. She was the prettiest lady in the whole world and loved him very much.

Not quite ready to say goodbye, Nyx raised his arms and flapped his wings, a silent plea for her to pick him up.

As his mother scooped him into her arms, he pressed his chubby cheek against her shoulder and reveled in the warmth and love that her embrace always brought him. “Love you mama.”

—————

“Nyx Archeron” a not unkind voice broke through his thoughts of the morning. “Sorry, Ms. Westfall!”

While daydreaming, he’d managed to draw a rainbow arching over Velaris, buildings of varying hues mirroring it as the Sidra ran alongside the city and refracting the vibrant colors off its rippling waters. “See Ms. Westfall! It’s a rainbow over The Rainbow.”

Ms. Westfall smiled at the art. “That’s lovely Nyx! You have quite the talent.”

As the children were led to their extra curricular classes, Ms. Westfall stopped Nyx for a moment.

“Little one, I am very impressed with your artistic vision.”

Nyx’s wings shifted of their own accord in response to the praise.

“I know your powers haven’t started coming in yet and you’ve really, really been hoping for them to.”

As she said this, Nyx crossed his fingers as he always did. He wanted to be like his papa so badly, to grow up to be the most powerful High Lord just like him, and do good for the world.

Ms. Westfall looked to Nyx with warm eyes, sensing where his thoughts were drifting.

“There are other ways to create joy and bring good to the world even without powers, little one. Like art, for instance, which you have quite a talent for.”

Nyx looked to her quietly but felt a bit of excitement fluttering in his chest at the thought of making a difference through art.

“We are working on a mural for the new cafeteria and I’d love to have your help, Nyx. One of the older art classes will be helping too. Perhaps while other kiddos in your grade go to their “emerging powers” class, you could work with me and the fifth graders on the mural.

Nyx nearly squealed with excitement. “Do you really mean it Ms. Westfall?” His body couldn’t contain the excitement as he bounced in place.

He spent the rest of the day giddy over the idea of learning from the older kids and painting with them.

—————-

Nyx ran out to greet his father at the end of the school day, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Papa!”

His father squatted down and stretched out his arms with a smile. “Stand daddy!” Nyx yelled as he ran to him. Rhys braced himself as fifty-five pounds of gleeful kindergartener made lift-off and whooshed into him at full force.

Rhys stumbled back a step as he laughed and hugged his boy. “Look at you go kiddo!”

They began their walk home and Nyx couldn’t help but look up to his dad, trying to emulate him in all his mannerisms though he couldn’t quite master the powerful swagger that naturally rolled off of him.

Nyx let out a disheartened sigh that caught his father’s attention. “What’s wrong buddy?”

“Nothing.” Nyx shrugged, unsure how to even describe what he was feeling.

Rhys could tell whatever it was bothering Nyx wasn’t something he was ready to discuss. He noticed a bakery nearby, the same one that caught Nyx’s eye every time he walked him home from school. “You know what sounds good? A pastry.”

Nyx perked up as he saw the bakery ahead. “Yes!” He squealed, running toward it, careful not to let go of his father’s hand. An old, grumpy looking man stood ahead of them and Nyx hid behind his father’s leg out of his sight as the male gruffly ordered a coffee and pastry.

Instead, Nyx focused on the bakery itself, inhaling the warm aroma of honeyed sweetness and the potent air of coffee within. His papa had let him try coffee once and he quickly realized the smell was much better than the taste.

Nyx saw a powdered pastry with raspberry filling and eagerly pointed at it. The nice pixie-winged female behind the counter handed it to him with a smile and Nyx made sure to give her a big “thank you!”

When he turned to head for the table, he saw the grumpy man bump into the counter and drop his pastry. Instead of angry, the male just looked sad. Nyx thought he’d be sad too if he dropped his pastry. Maybe the male only looked so grumpy because he was having a bad day.

Nyx considered how he’d had a really good day himself. Perhaps the older fae just needed cheering up, so before he could second guess he ran to the old male who was still frowning at his pastry that had fallen.

“Here you go!” Nyx raised his hand placing the paper bag his pastry was in on the counter next to the sad male. The male appeared shocked and before he could thank him, Nyx was skipping back to his father who’d watched the whole encounter intently.

Rhys didn’t miss the way the old man’s disheartened face turned to one of warmth and tenderness at the kind gesture from the little boy.

Rhys only gave the male a nod, a silent plea for him to just accept the kindness.

The male gave a grateful nod of his own in return and discarded the pastry that had fallen, leaving the bakery with the pastry Nyx had given him and a smile.

They went through the line again so Nyx could order another pastry and Rhys couldn’t help the way his heart swelled at the kindness of his little boy.

———————

As Nyx sat down for dinner with his mama and papa that evening, he told them of the art project Ms. Westfall had invited him to participate in and he recounted to his mother about the older male at the bakery.

Rhys grinned at his little artist who aimed to make the world a better place, one act of kindness at a time.

“Just like your mother.” Rhys mused.

—————

The next morning Feyre walked Nyx to school as usual. The little Illyrian studied the way she gave smiles to those she passed on the street and the way she moved with such grace and confidence in her stride. Nyx couldn’t help but admire her with joy in his heart as he thought to himself,

“It’s good to be like mama.”

“Maybe I'm not some chosen one but I'm my mother’s son and that's something I'm pretty proud to be.”

—————————————

A/N: this was one of those drabbles that I just started writing and ran with wherever my mind wandered. Thanks for reading!

ACOTAR gener taglist: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

[potatoplace]

Can It Smell Like You?

Feyre x Rhys

Summary: Feyre wakes up feeling different than usual, and her alpha has a meeting in the Hewn City. Promised alone time when he returns, the High Lady goes shopping in the Palace of Thread and Jewels to pass the time.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: only A/B/O dynamics I think, unless youre allergic to Feysand fluff

Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this! Soft Rhys plus a sweet, needy Feyre is just perfect. Written for Day 1: Nesting of @acotar-omegaverse-week (I know, I'm very late to the party on this one lol)

Rating: T

🩵💜🩵

Feyre woke up feeling off this morning.

She had woken up before Rhys this morning, not a rarity but uncommon, her mate seemed to have an internal alarm that signaled to him the night was ending, always able to get up with the sun if Feyre herself didn’t pull him back into the mattress.

She rolled to turn toward him, and took a moment to admire her wonderful, beautiful mate sleeping on his side facing her.

Then she pressed her face into his chest and pulled the covers over her head, and took a long, deep inhale of her alpha’s scent. Her body relaxed, falling further into him as she nuzzled her head against him, letting out something akin to a purr.

Rhys’s breathing started coming in faster, and his arms came to wrap around Feyre.

“Good morning, my sweet mate,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re up early.”

Feyre nodded her head against his chest but gave no response, just continuing to press her face into his night shirt, taking more greedy inhales of his scent, causing Rhys’s arms to tighten around her.

He moved onto his back, gently bringing Feyre with him to lay half on his chest. Her right leg quickly swung over his, and she pulled herself closer against him, still covered entirely by the blankets.

Rhys moved to pull the blanket down and look at her, but she grabbed the edge of it before it could reveal her.

“Darling,” Rhys started, “Is everything alright?”

She mumbled something against his chest before releasing the blanket.

“What was that, sweet omega?”

She let out breathy sigh of contentment before answering him. “I just don’t feel like getting out of bed today, alpha.”

“And keeping the blanket over your head accomplishes that… how?” Rhys asked playfully, attempting to move the blanket down again.

Feyre let him, tilting her head up from his chest to look up at him.

“There she is,” Rhys breathed, staring his mate in the eyes, a soft smile on his face and a tender, loving look in his eyes. A small smile spread across her lips, and she pushed the side of her head against him again, taking another lungful of his scent in.

“Is my little omega feeling needy today?” She nodded her head, and he pressed a long kiss to the top of her head, scenting her at the same time.

“I know we have that meeting with Keir…” Feyre started, trailing off.

Rhys picked up on where she was heading with it, asking “Did you want to skip out on this one, darling?” Another nod from Feyre, and he brought a hand up to caress her head, slowly massaging it. “That’s fine by me darling, I’ll take Az with me and be back as soon as we can, if that’s okay with you?”

Feyre let out a small whine at the suggestion, wanting to stay exactly where she is.

A soft chuckle escaped Rhys’s lips. “I know, sweet thing. I will make it as short a meeting as possible, even if it means throwing Keir in the dungeons.”

Feyre scoffed. “Like you don’t want to do that every day, alpha.”

Rhys hummed into her hair. “I suppose that’s true. But regardless omega, I will be back from the dreadfully boring meeting and you can keep me in bed all you want for the rest of the day. Does that sound alright to you darling?”

Feyre stuck her lip out, looking up at him again. “I suppose it will have to do… can we at least do breakfast in bed?”

“Of course, darling. Will you let me get up of should ask if Nuala can bring it to us?” Feyre shoved her face back into Rhys’s chest. “Nuala it is,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

They stayed wrapped together until Nuala knocked on the door, and Rhys disentangled himself from Feyre’s tight grasp, resisting the urge to fall back into the bed at the soft whines escaping her.

He walked over to the door, opening it and taking the tray from Nuala, thanking her before shutting the door and padding back over to the bed where Feyre had sat up against the headboard with pillows piled at her back.

They ate their food in a comfortable silence, Feyre leaning her head on Rhys’s shoulder between bites.

“Are you sure you’re okay, darling?” He asked once more, taking a bite of fruit right after.

“I am perfectly fine Rhys, I just feel like having a nice, lazy day with my mate. But I promise I can wait a few hours, Rhys,” she reassured him, flashing him a smile. Rhys eyed her for a moment.

“If you’re sure, Fey.”

She ate her last bite of toast and nodded her head in assurance. “I promise Rhys. I might even go shopping in town today, it might be good for me to get a short walk in before we stay in bed the rest of the day,” she said, trouble dancing in her eyes.

Rhys’s eyes mirrored her own, and after moving the tray to the end of the bed he held out a hand to her. “Shower with me first, my love?”

Feyre grabbed his hand, and they both beelined their way to the bathroom, shucking off their clothes as they went.

🩵💜🩵

The air was crisp, still early enough into the season of spring to have the bite of winter on some days. Rhys had left the town house a while before her, winnowing Azriel with him to the Hewn City for their meeting with Keir. Before she had left, Cerridwen had made sure to wrap a scarf around Feyre’s neck and a hat on her head, warning her that it was still a bit cold out this morning.

The Palace of Thread and Jewels was already alive with shoppers, all of them out with a purpose.

Feyre didn’t have one.

She didn’t truly need to buy anything today, but if Rhys wasn’t in bed with her then she needed something to distract her. And looking at beautiful fabrics seemed like a decent enough way to do it.

She passed a few shops, the rich colors and buttery soft looking materials were lovely, but not quite enough to draw her past the doors.

Until she found the most amazing, cutest store.

Feyre isn’t much for cute things, but seeing the small, stuffed Illyrian warriors displayed in the window, along with other types of fae and different creatures from all around Prythian. While she was certain most of them were deadly in their own right, the creator of the plush creatures had managed to keep the essence of them while making them adorable as well.

But the Illyrian ones… those were her favorite.

She pushed the door open, almost in a trance as her feet led her over to the display. She picked up one that had striking violet eyes and raven hair, the wings sticking up proudly.

A perfect little miniature of her husband, her mate, her alpha. The only thing missing was his scent.

That, she would rectify once she was home with him.

She turned away from the display, and walked further into the store.

There were a few adorable feline creatures, and she picked up one that was black with small stars embroidered in its eyes. This one would be nice, too.

Two should be fine. Two is good. They would look cute on their bed, nestled in with the mound of pillows Feyre had left against the headboard.

Feyre turned towards the counter, ready to purchase her new adorable plushies. That’s when she spotted the lunar collection, full of moons of varying sizes and cycles, as well as differently colored stars.

“Ah, High Lady, thank you for visiting our shop!” The clerk at the counter greeted, snapping Feyre out of her slight daze.

“I am happy to be here, you have some wonderful creations here!” Feyre said excitedly, looking over at the moons and stars again.

The clerk looked down at the ones already in her hand and smiled at what she saw. “I see you found one of our High Lord, it’s quite popular for young children.” Feyre blinked at her, unsure of what she meant. “The High Lord is our protector, the one who has kept this city safe through so much. There is not much that is more comforting to the children of Velaris than him, High Lady.”

“Oh.” Feyre smiled then, realizing how much her husband, her wonderful mate was loved by those in his, their, court. “That makes me happy to hear, thank you.”

The clerk smiled back, and turned her attention back to the plushies. “Was that all you were wanting today?”

Feyre set them on the counter, but looked back to those lunar plushies again. She walked over and grabbed a full moon about as wide across as her arm, and a blue and violet star, one for Rhys and one for her, the returned to the counter.

“Perfect, High Lady-”

“Please, call me Feyre.”

“Alright, Feyre, will you be using your line of credit today?”

“Yes, please. And a bag of two, if you have them.”

A few minutes later after saying goodbye, Feyre walked back out into the street, laden with two bags on her arms.

And only a few minutes later, she was drawn into another store.

🩵💜🩵

After a while longer, Feyre had returned to the town house, burdened with far more purchases than she had intended., and a few custom ordered blankets and matching pillows on the way.

She dropped the bags to the ground, and stopped to take off her outerwear before picking them up again.

Feyre dragged herself up the stairs to her and Rhys’s bedroom, bags feeling heavier by the step. But then, she was in front of their bed. Their wonderful, cushy bed. But it needed more.

She proceeded to rip apart the bags, placing all the new pillows and blankets along the outer edges of the bed, loving the way all of the purples, blues, and black looked in the arrangement.

Now all that was missing was the plush creatures, and Feyre could crawl back into bed and take a nap until Rhys got home.

Feyre grabbed them all in her arms, and carefully made her way over the pile at the foot of the bed, and started arranging them around where she was planning to rest her head.

Once that was done, Feyre made her way back off the bed and over to the wardrobe, looking for something comfortable to wear. She looked through her side, then through Rhys’s. But nothing felt right. Until she eyed his sleep shirt from this morning where they had dropped it in their haste to get in the shower.

She quickly pulled it on, pulling the collar up to her nose and inhaling deep. Citrus and sea. Mate. Alpha.

Her body went slack, nearly toppling over from the relief spreading through her. Now she could get into bed and wait for her alpha to return to her.

She pulled one of the blankets that was on the bed this morning over her, nuzzling her face down into and grabbing the Illyrian plush, holding it tight in her arms.

It only took a few minutes for her to fall asleep, part of her that felt off after waking soothed now, happy with whatever it was shopping had accomplished for her.

She was awoken by the door snicking shut softly, and footsteps leading towards the bed, and a wash of citrus and sea came over her.

“Pretty, perfect omega. Are you nesting, darling?” Rhys asked gently when she turned her head to look at him. Feyre only pouted up at him, confused at to why he wasn’t already in the bed with her.

“What’s nesting?” She asked, and anger immediately colored Rhys’s expression. “Am I… is it bad?” She didn’t think so, not with the praise he had greeted her with.

“No, no darling. It’s nothing that you’ve done, it’s the fact that those buffoons over in Spring couldn’t even bother to explain to you your additional biology.” Rhys leaned against one of the bedposts, crossing his arms. “Nesting is something that an omega does before they go into heat. They did explain to you what a heat is, right?” Feyre nodded, remembering that horrid conversation with Ianthe well. “Well then, darling, it appears as if you’re going to have your first heat soon, if you’ve never nested before this.” Feyre nodded again. Rhys shifted his weight back onto his feet, bending slightly as though he wanted to prowl across the bed towards her, before he stopped. “Am I allowed to come in, omega?”

“Of course, alpha. Why didn’t you come in already?” She asked as he took off his shoes and jacket.

“It can be an issue if the omega is feeling vulnerable at all, so it’s best to ask each time. And, it’s simply good manners, darling,” he said, sliding into the nest next to her.

“Mm. You’re so polite, alpha.” Feyre lifted the blanket, tossing the edge over Rhys and moving closer to him, her arm still wrapped around his plush form.

“I do like what you’ve done with the nest, omega.” Rhys placed a kiss on her forehead, bringing his hand to her neck and rubbing along the mating mark. Feyre let out a soft sigh, pressing her neck into his hand. “You went shopping and brought such pretty, soft, adorable things into this nest, and it is absolutely perfect, darling.”

The praise made a shiver go up her spine, and she let out a soft mewl and pressed her body into his, slinging her top arm and leg over him, the Illyrian plush now pressed between their chests.

“And what’s this, sweet thing?” He asked, pulling it up just a bit to get a better look at it. “Awe, Feyre, you got a little mini me?” She nodded eagerly, her omega hoping desperately that he approved of it. “I love it, darling. It is so adorable, and now when you have morning you don’t want to be alone but I’m busy, you’ll have a little piece of me with you.” Feyre nodded again, a question ready to burst through her lips.

“Would you…? Could you…?”

“Yes omega?”

Feyre’s cheeks burned. “Can you make it smell like you? For… for when you’re gone. I like… I need to have your scent around me, alpha,” she said, stuttering slightly over her words.

Rhys’s lips split in a wide smile, the joyful one he reserves for the people and moments he loves the most. “I would love to make it smell like me for you, darling.”

He kissed Feyre’s lips gently, and wrapped his arms around her.

“My sweet, perfect, adorable omega. I love you.”

Feyre giggled, kissing him again. “My wonderful, strong, amazing alpha. I love you too.”

If this is what nesting got Feyre, the softest and sweetest side of Rhys for days, then she was fine with whatever else came after it.