#feysandweek2024

[moonpatroclus]

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 ✨🌌🤍

Happy Feysand Week! For the @officialfeysandweek dreamers prompt, @cauldronblssd and I couldn’t resist seeing some soft, cozy Feysand featuring a snuggly Nyx 🥹

Thank you so much to the sweet and talented b_astora for working with us!

[the-lonelybarricade]

“Rhysand,” she hissed. “We need to go.”

“Why?” He scanned the forest, feeling his adrenaline wake his mind, sharpening his senses. “Things have just gotten fun.”

Another dark figure broke out of the trees, only to immediately find another of Feyre’s arrows in its chest.

Rhysand flashed her an approving grin over his shoulder. “Save some for me.”

The Other Side of the Apocalypse by @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade

For my last contribution to @officialfeysandweek, I wanted to share a tribute to one of my favorite Feysand AUs—the one I've had the privledge of writing alongside my best friend @separatist-apologist. I've had the time of my life (writing about Feyre and Rhys) fighting dragons with you 💕

Thank you to artist @parslynne for helping bring this scene to life!!

[officialfeysandweek]

Fic Rec part One of Two

13 days to go!

[starfall-spirit]

Letters Never Sent, Letter I

Read on Ao3 // Feysand Week Masterlist // Letters Never Sent Masterlist

Kicking off @officialfeysandweek with the first submission from a series of short letters Rhys wrote before the mating bond was accepted.

None of the letters were written with the intention of matching prompts, just a fun little thing.

If the font is difficult to read, I have it typed out below the cut as well.

My Darling Mate,

It’s been three months since we said goodbye on that balcony. Three months I’ve spent trying to convince myself to leave you to live out your life in Spring. To turn my back and put you from my mind.

But this longing is not so simple as the wanting of lust or desire. Yearning is not a fixation one can outgrow with time and distraction. It is a flame—great, wild, and all consuming. A more literal fire will claim these words before I could consider burdening you with them.

Better for us both, of course. Tomorrow you’ll be wed. First a lover, now wife to my enemy. For the first time in centuries I envy Tamlin. He does not deserve the devotion you give him so readily. Then again, my hands are just as bloody. I have to wonder if any male above the wall could truly earn the love of your human heart, my Feyre.

Haunted as it may be, there is nothing I wouldn’t give to have the chance.

Forever Yours,

Rhysand

[amnevitahdrawsstuff]

Eternal

For Day One of @officialfeysandweek

[rosanna-writer]

shaking, pacing (i just need you)

Summary: The one where Rhys gets sex-pollen'd and hulks out into his beast form. Word Count: ~2.5k Warnings: Dubious consent

@officialfeysandweek is the gift that keeps on giving <3

You can read the fic Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Halfway through Keir's latest report, talons scraped against Feyre's mind. She ignored them. It took all of her concentration to maintain a mask of bored indifference while still keeping a mental tally as her Steward listed out the expenses and costs of running the court. She needed to focus.

"With the cost of steel rising, the Darkbringer legions' annual budget—"

More scraping. Desperate this time, claws scrabbling for a chink somewhere, anywhere in the adamant shields protecting her mind.

Feyre opened the tiniest sliver in her mental walls possible, glancing down at her nails and picking at them to cover her distraction. Is everything alright, Rhys?

The moment his shields dropped, a wave of pure need slammed into her. Biting the inside of her lip before she made any embarrassing noises, Feyre crossed her legs, hating the feel of the cold stone against her bare thighs.

Trips to the Court of Nightmares had been so much more comfortable when she could spend the whole visit in Rhys's lap.

Just the mere thought of the first time they'd come here drew out a desperate moan from Rhys, the sound of it reverberating in her mind. Insatiable, even for him.

What the hell is going on?

I'm aching for you so badly.

Feyre slammed down her shields—her horny mate could wait. Especially when he knew perfectly well that she was holding court in the Hewn City.

"The price of steel has risen, but surely not by that much?" she said.

Keir's eyes widened, though Feyre couldn't say whether in panic or merely just surprise that she'd noticed. "Milady, demand increased during the war with Hybern," he said, as if she didn't already know that.

"And then dropped back down. Are the ministers working under you using outdated estimates to set the court budget?"

"If they are, I'll see to it that their incompetence is punished swiftly."

He hadn't actually answered her question. Feyre allowed herself a cold smile. "I'm more than happy to mete out any punishments myself."

Keir stammered something in response, but before Feyre could press him any further, those damned ebony talons found the crack she kept unsealed in case of emergencies. They nearly ripped their way into her mind.

This time, she let Rhysand feel the full force of her anger down the bond; if he needed release, he could take care of himself or wait an hour. She didn't need a distraction during her first solo visit to the Court of Nightmares.

Especially when the bloated budget estimates practically screamed that some bastard was embezzling from the court treasury.

Not now, Rhysand.

Please. It hurts…

He'd practically whimpered the words, and Feyre's blood ran cold. Rhys yielded to her in ways he wouldn't for anyone else in the world, but he didn't beg. Not unless something was wrong.

In her panic, she'd lost track of what Keir was saying. "Is that so?" she said, hoping he'd repeat himself enough for her to pick up the thread of conversation.

Rhys, what happened?

An image crossed the bond—Rhys's cock, painfully hard, and his fingers wrapped around the shaft. Despite the vice-like grip, he felt no relief at all as he stroked himself.

Feyre didn't see how that answered her question. And Keir was looking at her strangely. Cauldron boil and fry her.

She sat up a bit straighter, unwilling to look rattled. On another day, she would have merely apologized for rescheduling and said something vague about a urgent matter at home. But Feyre couldn't afford to appear weak. Not here in this den of vipers, where she'd once been introduced as a plaything.

There were far more eyes on her than just Keir's. Everyone in the Hewn City wanted to know if their young, newly-crowned High Lady could command a room without her mate or her Inner Circle nearby.

And, if she was honest, Feyre needed to prove it to herself, too.

A glass of wine sat next to her, and she swirled it lazily as she leaned back in the throne. "I'm not convinced by those justifications. If we're paying too much for swords, then plenty of other merchants will be eager to bleed us dry."

"Perhaps it hasn't been explained to you, milady, but if the updated budget isn't completed by—"

"Fire your clerks, complete a more thorough review, and get back to me."

Keir gaped at her like a fish, and Feyre hardly had time to enjoy it before Rhys was tugging urgently on the bond again. Her hand tightened around the stem of her wineglass.

Feyre, please. I need you.

She fought off a shudder as Rhys shared the image of his hand spreading a bead of wetness all the way down his length. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt sharp teeth biting down in frustration. The wine in her goblet began to bubble.

I'll be home soon, I promise.

Sheets tangling around tattooed knees, a sweat-slicked chest, the scent of arousal filling the air.

It feels like I'll explode if I don't bury myself inside you right this minute.

Feyre pushed a wave of soothing, star-flecked power down the bond towards him. It wasn't enough—not even close—but she couldn't storm off in a huff without creating more problems down the line.

She pretended to take a sip of wine, using magic to make a cheekful of liquid vanish instead of actually drinking any. With Rhys acting so strangely, she didn't want to run the risk of getting poisoned.

"High Lady, please reconsider. There's hardly enough time for another draft of the proposal before the deadline."

Feyre loosened her grip on her power, letting darkness fill the room. She'd barely skimmed the surface of the well she could draw from, but just that much was enough to send some of the courtiers falling to their knees.

A glimmer of wicked delight cut through the haze of lust on Rhys's end of the bond.

"You should be thanking me for the opportunity to do better," Feyre said. "I still have half a mind to flay the skin from your bones for presenting me with slapdash work."

Keir bowed his head. "A thousand pardons, milady."

Feyre stood, the heels of her shoes clicking as her feet hit the floor. By some miracle, a damp spot hadn't appeared where the panels of her dress hung around her legs. The scent of her arousal would drift out to the crowd if she stayed in the throne room much longer.

"You'd do well not to waste my time again. I'll be back when you've corrected your mistakes," she said, punctuating it with a thunderclap as she winnowed home.

She materialized directly in their bedroom in the river house. Rhys's scent and the sound of his ragged breathing filled the air, and a light sheen of sweat coated his naked body. He writhed on the bed, dark wings spread painfully wide across the duvet. One hand fisted around his cock.

Feyre's throat tightened—the sight of her mate's beautiful face twisted in pain called to mind the memory of poisoned arrows, a cave, a past brush with death. "I can call a healer, if you need," she breathed.

"I need you," he snarled. His voice had gone rough. Bestial.

As Feyre took a step towards Rhys, a tendril of inky night leaked from him, the flecks of starlight glittering as it snaked towards her. It wrapped around her wrist and yanked her roughly onto the bed. She cried out in surprise as the crown tumbled from her head and clattered to the floor.

Rhys moved with inhuman speed as he rolled her onto her back, pinning her down. Something scraped up her leg—gods, when had his fingers turned to talons?—and Feyre used a flicker of magic to make her clothes vanish before he ripped them.

His mother had made that gown. Rhys wasn't in his right mind.

Scales brushed the soft skin inside her thighs as he nudged her legs apart. Feyre let him. If she fought him in this state, they'd level half of Velaris.

She arched her back, tipping her head to the side to bare her neck. Yielding to him. "You have me," she said.

A forked tongue licked a stripe up the skin she'd just exposed. He'd once told her he could smell with his tongue as a beast—perhaps her scent soothed him.

"Rhysand," she said, reaching down the bond for him even as she spoke aloud. "You don't have to stop, but tell me what's going on. Please."

His cock slid along her clit, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure racing down her spine. Feyre gasped. Rhys growled.

He was aligning himself to thrust into her, she realized. There would be no stopping it. But at the very least, she could attempt to mitigate the damage, so she hooked a leg around his hip and winnowed them both straight to the bed in the cabin in Illyria.

Rhys didn't notice the change of scenery. He'd stopped bothering with shields—stopped bothering with thinking in words, even. Animalistic satisfaction at the feel of her wetness flooded his side of the bond.

The half-second was all she needed to summon a pillow under her hips, placing her at a better angle for taking the beast's cock. He'd gone slowly last time he'd fucked her like this, and even then, she'd had trouble walking the next day.

He wasn't going to be gentle today.

The tip of his cock pressed against her entrance, and at the first stretch, Feyre gave up reasoning with him. She pushed her way into Rhys's mind and rifled through it, looking for answers.

Flowers with ominous black petals. Elain's greenhouse. A sickly-sweet smell.

He slid into her, snapping his hips and breaking Feyre's concentration. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, for something—anything—to hold onto. Spines had erupted from his back, a line of them between his wings, and her fingers closed around one, gripping as if it were the last thing tethering her to the world.

The pace he set was nothing short of punishing, each thrust all the way to the hilt. Feyre burned all over, so full she thought he might rip her in two. She tried pressing her hips up to chase the feeling of pleasure, but he was moving too damn fast for her to keep up.

With a whimper, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. There was nothing to be done but spread her legs until her thighs ached and let her mate take what he needed from her.

Feyre let the feeling of utter fullness drift down the bond to him. It blended with the pure relief that shattered through him each time his cock sank into her. Mind-to-mind, the borders between them blurred—their thoughts, their power, their souls becoming one, mixing like paint.

Somehow, even with Rhys's cock driving mercilessly into her, Feyre decided she'd put that on a canvas.

Someone roared—Rhys perhaps, but Feyre's own throat went raw. She'd lost track of she ended and he began, and she clung to him tightly as they shattered together, all starlight then nothing but sweet darkness.

Feyre's breath was still coming in soft pants when she opened her eyes. She'd hoped that would be enough to bring Rhys back to himself, but the spines at the tip of his tail were already caressing their way up her leg.

The forked tongue licked her cheek. Softer, this time. Affectionate. It drew a surprised giggle out of her, and he purred in response.

She wasn't quite sure how long this lull would last, so Feyre wasted no time reaching into his mind again. Either too tired to talk or still unable to reinforce his shields, Rhys let her. She flipped through the memories as efficiently as she could to avoid violating is privacy any further. When she found the right one, Feyre stepped into it.

"Would you mind horribly if I took a few cuttings?" Rhys had been saying. "I'd like to gift a bouquet to Feyre when she returns from her first visit to the Court of Nightmares alone."

Elain smiled up at him from under a large, floppy sunhat. "You're welcome to anything if it's for Feyre. Just give the planters in the back of the greenhouse a wide berth. It's a new variety, and we're still looking into the effects of the pollen."

Rhys had licked his thumb and wiped a smudge of dirt off Elain's cheek as he thanked her. Elain had rolled her eyes and batted his hand away with some good-natured grumbling about never wanting a brother before turning back to the rosebush she'd been pruning.

The jet-black petals had caught Rhys's eye the second he'd stepped into the greenhouse. The perfect gift for a dark queen. And something smelled alluring, drawing him in.

He hadn't noticed the other set of bright red blooms on the shelf below until they'd already released spores into the air. And then, there was nothing to be done.

"You absolute idiot," Feyre said, pulling out of Rhys's mind. His snout nuzzled her cheek, breath warm against her skin, and Feyre flicked his nose, just as she would if he'd returned to his usual form. He purred again. "I cannot believe you—" she started to add, but another delicious stretch made her gasp.

He'd shifted his hips. Rhys's cock was still inside her, growing large again.

She'd save the lecture for after the second round, then. Or the third. If he wanted to go all night, Feyre certainly didn't mind. She reached a hand up, skimming the underside of his wing with her fingertips. His cock twitched against her walls, sending sparks dancing along her skin. Rhys's answering growl went straight to her core.

"Fuck your seed back into me," she whispered, pressing harder against the silky membrane of his wing as she caressed it again.

His growl became a roar. Feyre held on tight and opened her legs wider.

It was nearly morning by the time the last of the scales faded, the talons disappeared, and Rhys's pupils were no longer vertical slits. Too exhausted to bother fixing the mess of shredded bedding around them, Feyre and Rhys lay in the middle of it, curled around each other.

"I'm sorry for interrupting earlier," Rhys whispered. Feyre had buried her face in his shoulder, and he peppered kisses all over the parts of her cheek and nose he could reach. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"S'alright," she murmured, already drifting off. "You're not that scary."

"I am eternally grateful that you think so, my love."

Feyre hummed contentedly. She'd banded an arm across his broad chest, and she used it to pull him closer. For a moment, Rhys thought she'd finally fallen asleep; his eyes had also closed when she whispered, "Next time, I get to be the one who sniffs the pollen."

The Lord and Lady of Nightmares had never had sweeter dreams.

[shallyne]

Bigger Than The Whole Sky - Snippet

Feyre was cowering in the empty bath tub, tears streaming down her face as she tried to breath through the contractions. Alis had tried to convince her to get out of there, into a bed but she felt safer here. Here in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, no one could hear what was going on, what Feyre had hidden for the last eight months.

Alis took the wet cloth from her forehead, exchanging in for another. "Here you go," she whispered, almost motherly. Her own mother had never talked to her like this, not a spark of affection in her tone anytime she had talked to Feyre. But Alis, she was there. She cared, she kept Feyre's secret, she was the only person Feyre trusted fully. Without a doubt she knew that she would never tell Tamlin, so it slipped out of Feyre's, without another thought, "I wish Rhysand was here."

If Alis was surprised, she didn't show. Not like the day Feyre told her who the baby's father was. She only squeezed Feyre's hand in answer, with a short, "I know."

When Feyre opened her mouth, Alis interrupted her, "It's hard but we can't change it right now, unless you want me to send word to the High Lord?"

Feyre shook her head. She didn't know shat Rhys would do if he found out. Deep down, she knew he wouldn't harm her or the baby, she knew he'd most likely protect his heir. But how would she explain it to Tamlin? Would he let her stay to even explain it? Tamlin would start a war if Rhysand just took her and Feyre, she couldn't let that happen. Her child wouldn't grow up in a war, not if she could prevent it.

"Okay," Alis interrupted her train of thoughts, "then we will focus on delivering this child safely, you understand? Everything else can come after."

Feyre nodded again, there wasn't anything she could reply, especially not as another contraction hit her.

"How do you feel?" Alis asked.

"Like I need to push," Feyre confessed, her voice trembling.

A wave of shock crossed Alis's face but she quickly wiped it off, a serious expression instead. The baby was coming now.

A little drabble for a fic idea that I will post THIS WEEK! for @officialfeysandweek

[legionofshaza]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚

Eternal love･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

@officialfeysandweek

The stars winked down at them, as though they held secrets too ancient for the world to remember. But Feyre had always known the truth—there were no secrets between her and Rhysand.

They stood together on the balcony of the House of Wind, the night air cool and fresh around them. Velaris sparkled below, a breathtaking view of their city, their home. The soft glow of faelights illuminated the streets, a reminder of all they had fought for, all they had endured.

But tonight, there was only stillness.

"How long do you think the stars have been watching us?" Feyre asked, her voice a whisper in the silence of the night.

Rhysand’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer against him. His wings, dark and magnificent, unfurled slightly behind him, as if they too wished to protect her from the cool breeze. He gazed at the sky, his violet eyes thoughtful. "Long enough to know that some things—some people—are eternal."

Feyre tilted her head to look up at him. The Lord of Night, her mate, her husband. In him, she had found not just love, but her equal, her partner in all things. His gaze was soft but held the intensity she had always known—the kind that promised forever.

"And us?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur, though she already knew the answer.

Rhysand smiled, that crooked, devastating smile that sent warmth flooding through her, even after all these years. "Eternal," he whispered, brushing a kiss against her temple. "You and me, Feyre darling. Even the stars will grow tired of watching us."

Feyre’s heart swelled, her chest aching with the depth of her love for him. It was more than just the bond that tied their souls together—it was the quiet moments like this, where words were unnecessary because everything had already been said in the way he touched her, in the way he looked at her.

And yet, as she rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, she couldn’t help but think about all the trials they had faced—Amarantha, Hybern, the wars, the losses. There had been so much pain, so much darkness, but somehow, they had always found their way back to each other.

"I used to wonder," Feyre said softly, "if we would ever have a moment of peace. If we would ever stop fighting, stop running."

Rhysand’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. His thumb traced soothing circles on her skin. "We’ve fought enough battles to last ten lifetimes. But the real fight was always for this—for us. And that, Feyre, is eternal."

She closed her eyes, letting his words wrap around her like a warm blanket. He was right, of course. The battles they had fought were behind them, but their love—that was something beyond time, beyond the wars and the bloodshed. It was woven into the very fabric of who they were.

Feyre shifted in his arms, turning to face him fully. The moonlight bathed his face in silver, casting shadows that only made him look more ethereal, more like the High Lord of Night that he was. But to her, he would always be more than that. He would always be her Rhys.

"I love you," she said, her voice steady, though her heart raced with the weight of the words. No matter how many times she said it, it never felt enough to capture the depth of what she felt for him.

Rhysand’s smile softened, his eyes glinting with something fierce and tender all at once. "I know, Feyre darling. I love you, too. More than words can ever express."

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other, in the quiet promise of forever.

Eventually, Rhysand turned his gaze back to the sky, his hand still holding hers. "Do you think the stars will ever fade?" he mused, his voice thoughtful.

Feyre followed his gaze, watching the glittering constellations. "Maybe one day," she replied. "But not for a long time."

Rhysand hummed softly, his wings rustling behind him. "Even if they do, we will still be here. In whatever form we take next. You and I—eternal."

Feyre smiled, leaning into him. The future stretched out before them, vast and unknowable. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of it.

Because no matter what the future held, they would face it together.

And together, they were eternal.

»»——End——««