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Read Chapter 6 on AO3!
Friends to Lovers • Born fae!Feyre • Questing
Feyre grabbed his wrists, steering them from her hips to the ties on the front of her trousers. "You're going to give me everything?" she breathed. Her scent sweetened, flooding the cave with a rich perfume. Rhys's head spun. "Yes." "Then give it to me," Feyre demanded.
GUESS WHO'S BACK
Read chapter 4 on AO3!
It was a bath, for Cauldron's sake. How many times had they snuck out of the House of Wind to skinny-dip in the Sidra? Bathed in lakes in the Steppes? This was hygiene. There didn't need to be anything sensual about washing armpits. "Are you coming?" Feyre asked. "Or are you waiting to turn into a ice sculpture?"
Happy @acotargiftexchange, @shadowisles-writes!
“Happy birthday, my prince.” Feyre dropped into a bow just shallow enough to be insolent. She rose and inclined her head to the dais. “My lady. High Lord.” “Lady Archeron,” Rhys purred, masking his shock with wicked delight. “What a surprise.” He dropped his gaze to her trophy. “I don’t suppose you brought me a present for the festivities?” Feyre’s eyes were walls of blue ice, but Rhys saw a mischievous fire sparking far behind her mask. “Your birthday gift is my attendance.” The crowd shifted uneasily. “But,” Feyre added, with a smile that made even Rhys’s skin prickle, “consider this an apology for arriving late.”
I had so much fun tailoring a feysand fic for you, and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for letting me pick your brain these past few months - I have a lot of treats for you lined up in the coming chapters!
And a huge shoutout to the exchange mods - this is my first exchange for this fandom, and it's been a great experience because of all the work you've done to make sure it runs smoothly.
Read it on AO3.
Word Count: 5,357 (1/4 chapters)
Rating: Explicit (eventual smut, violence)
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, background ships
Read chapter 3 on AO3!
"Do I need to go easy on you?" Feyre asked. "Preserve your reputation?" Rhys grinned. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Feyre held out a hand, and Rhys tossed a second blade to her, the honed edge glittering as it spun in the sunlight. She was already racing toward him when she caught it.
WIP Wednesday
Soooo I may or may not be working on the next chapter for Hind with Sharp Teeth
How long do you want to bet it'll take for Devlon to throw a hissy fit? Feyre asked.
A familiar figure approached them, flanked by two warriors.
Thirty seconds? Rhys offered.
Twenty. Feyre countered.
What do I get if I win? Rhys asked.
Next time you say something stupid, I'll agree with you. Feyre suggested.
Rhys bit back a laugh as Devlon stalked toward them, scowling. Deal.
"Rhysand," The camp lord ground out. His gaze slid to Feyre, and he looked like he'd found horse shit on the underside of his boot. "I see you brought your hunting dog,"
Feyre smiled with bared teeth. "Hello, Devlon."
The commander's gaze shifted back to Rhys, but his entourage kept their eyes on Feyre, their hands resting casually on their blades' hilts. "We weren't informed of your visit," Devlon accused.
I think I win, Feyre mused.
"This isn't a court visit," Rhys answered. "As far as I understand camp protocol, we aren't required to inform you for personal visits."
"Camp protocol also states that any unannounced travelers in the camp's airspace should be assumed hostile until intent is confirmed." Devlon's gaze dropped pointedly to Rhys's armor. "But I would assume that a Carynthian would remember such a basic element of camp safety."
"Your sentry recognized us immediately," Feyre said. "so announcement was unnencessary."
The look the commander pinned her with made Rhys wonder what sounds Devlon would make if he melted his eyes inside of his sockets. "You're in no position to speak on Illyrian customs, hunter."
"And you're in no position to speak to my little sister like that, Devlon."
As always, Nesta Archeron's tone cut to the bone. Feyre's spine straightened as the eldest Archeron sister prowled toward them, her grey eyes as sharp as the long blade strapped across her back.
Devlon's guards stepped sideways as Nesta blew past them and whirled to face them, putting herself between the Illyrians and Feyre. "If we're bickering over camp policy," Nesta said, "you would do well to remember that the valkyries are maintain autonomy in our training regimen, chain of command, and living arrangements, including our ability to invite and house guests of our choosing without camp council approval. Feyre is my guest."
Feyre started at her sister with an intensity that Rhys knew meant she was exercising her daemati abilities. Nesta added, "The prince is our guest as well." For now, her gaze warned Rhys.
Rhys risked coming a little closer. “You’re so quick to judge something you have no firsthand experience in.” Feyre smiled, slow as honey. “I’m no virgin.” And she could have done better than Isaac. Much better. “Besides,” she added, “The bigger the male’s head, the smaller the cock.” Rhys grinned. “Az and Cass could vouch otherwise.” “I think Az and Cass would agree, actually.”
A new chapter is up! Happy (early) Valentine's to my awesome winter giftee @shadowisles-writes and, of course, to my favorite ACOTAR couple ;). Read the update here on AO3.
A special shout-out also goes to @popjunkie42 and @astra-aeterna for their help beta-ing this chapter at multiple points in the process - this draft gave me a little trouble, and it would probably still be in Ellipsus purgatory without them!
ok but if you did write Hindverse!Feyre trying to seduce Tamlin to make Rhys jealous I would love you forever and give you my firstborn❤️
Hind!Feyre is happy to help Rhys teach Tam everything he knows about fighting and females 😌
Could I ask for a sneak peek into chapter 3 of hwst? that story is just so yummy I practically have it memorized from all the rereads I’ve done 🤭🤭💗
Welllllllllllllll, since you asked so nicely:
Feyre swung one leg over the ring's fence. "Come on, Princeling," she goaded. "Help me show them how it's done." Sensing eyes on them, Rhys glanced at the resting trainees. They quickly looked back down to the ground. If he lost, some camp lords would question his Carynthian title. If Feyre lost, they'd question whether the stories about her were true. But as far as the beast in his chest was concerned, neither outcome mattered. Anyone who wanted to test either of them would find out the truth soon enough. The beast would be appeased either way, torn as it was between valorizing his mate and pinning her. Win or lose, at least he'd get to play. Rhys climbed into the ring and drew a long, wickedly curved Illyrian sword from the practice rack. In a few months, Devlon's trainees would trade their dulled initiate blades for these, and the real schooling would start. "Do I need to go easy on you?" Feyre asked. "Preserve your reputation?" Rhys grinned. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Feyre held out a hand, and Rhys tossed a second blade to her, the honed blade glittering as it spun in the sunlight. She was already darting toward him when she caught it.
