New Girl meets The Court of Dreams (a Feysand fanfic)
Hello, this is my first fanfic, and it’s still rough around the edges, so proceed with care. Yesterday, I suddenly had this idea of Feyre moving in with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel in a New Girl type of setting, and she would have to go get her clothes from Tamlin’s place. The story hasn’t reached that far yet, but I might go on with it if inspiration hits. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the feysand fluff.
Rhysand had never thought he’d see the day Feyre Archeron rode with him in his car.
That’s right.
Feyre, as in Feyre Cursebreaker Archeron, as in the girl he’d been pining over for years, was now sitting in his car, looking out the window, her nervousness apparent in her restless hands and the bottom lip she’d been chewing on for the past half hour.
He had been utterly shocked when she had run up to him earlier, panting and breathless, and asked him for a ride. At first he thought she’d meant another kind of ride, one he was totally willing to give her ten times a day, seven days a week. He somehow managed not to make a complete fool of himself, and here they were.
He didn’t realize he was staring at her until he veered off his lane and a car honked angrily. Snap out of it, he thought. She can totally tell you like her.
But Feyre only had one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t the gorgeous guy sitting next to her. No, she was thinking of how she would get her clothes back from her now ex Tamlin’s house. She had fled the house the previous night after a particularly ugly fight with the controlling asshole, and had only texted him “I left. Thank you for helping me when I needed you. Please don’t come looking for me. I am not coming back.”
Now she had no clothes, no home, and most importantly, no phone charger.
She slumped in her seat, sighing.
“Tonight is the winter solstice.” Rhys said, quietly.
Feyre smiled wryly. “Longest night of the year.”
“The stars shine their brightest tonight.”
She looked at him then, his profile flickering in the light of the passing streetlights. He glanced at her, and when his eyes met hers, her breath caught.
Your eyes shine brighter than the stars, she wanted to say. She blushed, and looked away.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For the ride.”
He chuckled. “You’ve already thanked me three times.”
“Still-“
“But,” he interrupted, smirking. “If you still feel bad, you can always thank me in other ways, Feyre darling.”
She scowled. “In your dreams, prick.”
“You do seem to make quite a regular appearance in those.”
Feyre’s heart skipped a beat. Dangerous territory, she chided herself. It was soon, way too soon after Tamlin. It had only been a day, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from retorting: “As you seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Am I supposed to deny,” he drawled, eyes sparkling, “that I find you attractive?”
“You’ve never said it.”
He sighed. “I never had a chance to. Aren’t you dating that flower boy?”
She snorted at the ridiculous nickname. Steroid Tamlin was anything but a flower boy. “Not anymore.”
Rhys’s eyebrows rose. “Should I be sorry?”
Feyre slumped again in her seat, dejected. “Don’t. I’d rather be homeless than live with that controlling asshole.”
“Wait,” Rhys said, eyes wide, and she savored how the light reflected in them, “You’re homeless?”
“Temporarily, I hope. But yes, I suppose I am.”
“Then where am I taking you?”
“A cybercafé. Open 24/7. Should work for tonight.”
He made an abrupt U-turn, eliciting a cacophony of honks all around them. She yelped. “Where are you going?”
“As it happens, one of my roommates just moved out last week. We still haven’t found a suitable replacement.”
Feyre’s heart started beating loudly. “Oh no, Rhysand, I don’t want to abuse of your kindness…”
“This is not charity, Feyre darling. My roommates and I have a screening process to judge potential rommates. You’ll have to go through that first.”
She opened her mouth to argue but was stopped short by an explosion of light in the corner of her eye.
A shooting star.
“A wish for a wish?” Rhysand’s voice was soft, tentative.
“I’m fairly sure that’s not how wishes work, Rhysand. Doesn’t telling a wish ruin it?”
“Only you can decide what gets in the way of your dreams, Feyre darling.”
“Poetic, but no.”
“Fine,” he sighed, aggravated, “I’ll go first.” He paused long enough for her to see his eyes go soft and his smile grow wistful. She waited for what he would say with such trepidation, that she was caught completely off guard by the absurdity of his wish.
“I wish you’d stop calling me Rhysand.”
She huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Isn’t that your name?”
“My friends call me Rhys.” He crinkled his nose. Adorable. No.
She tapped her chin. “I’ll consider it, if you stop calling me darling, you shameless flirt.”
He smirked. “No way, Feyre darling.”
If she was honest with herself, she rather liked the endearment, so she let him off easy, looking out the window to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
“You still owe me a wish.”
She looked back at him then, and drank in the sight of his profile shining ethereal in the starlight, his eyes a deep, sensuous violet that was rapidly turning into her favorite color.
“I want to paint you,” she finally said, barely more than a whisper, afraid to break the moment.
To her surprise, he did not smirk, and he did not preen. Instead, he graced her with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, his eyes shining so bright she could’ve sworn they had stolen all the stars in the sky.
“Stars eternal,” she whispered, still entranced. Her heart was beating a tattoo in her chest, and she longed to run a hand along his sharp jawline, brush a finger against his lips…
“I love it when you look at me like that.”
She blinked, blushing furiously.
“Li…like what?” she stuttered.
“Like I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.”
She scowled, her cheeks ablaze. “You arrogant prick.”
He pulled over then, parking perfectly in the midst of the busy street.
She frowned. “Are we there already?” She looked at her surroundings. They were in the middle of the financial district of Manhattan, and all she could see in every direction were office buildings.
He shook his head, and motioned for her to stay still. He got out of the car, went over to her side, and opened her door with a flourish.
“After you, my lady.”
She shook her head, laughing. Rhysand was already hearing wedding bells. He knew she had just broken up with Flower Boy, and he probably shouldn’t rush her, but when she smiled at him like that, he just couldn’t help himself.
He bowed and offered her his arm, and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow, laughing at his goofiness. He guided her through throngs of people, to his favorite restaurant in town. It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of affaire, and he had stumbled upon it one drunken night with his inner circle, only to find the best food he had ever tasted. They even had it on speed dial back at their flat.
“Velaris,” Feyre whispered in wonder.
They went inside, and everybody seemed to know Rhysand. He was greeted by every single one of the staff, and the chef came personally to take their order. Feyre was taken aback. She wasn’t used to seeing the outgoing, friendly side of Rhys. He was mostly known as the college bad boy, and he was generally cold and closed off. Tonight, however, the smile never left his face. It was genuine and open and so warm it made her fuzzy inside. She blinked and suddenly realized that Rhys and the chef were both staring at her expectantly.
“Uh,” she fumbled, flipping rapidly through the menu, the options a blur in her eyes. “Surprise me?” she finished weakly.
The chef smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
Rhysand was tapping a steady beat into the table, trying to hide how nervous he was. Feyre was here, with him, in Velaris, his favorite place in the world. He couldn’t help but marvel at how she fit in just right. She was already a favorite among the staff, he guessed from the three water pitchers, one bottle of wine and numerous plates of appetizers already on the table, if only because they thought she was his date. If only.
“Nice place.” Feyre said, breaking his train of thought just as it took a self-deprecating turn. “Really cozy.”
“Wine?” He asked.
“Sure.”
He poured them each a healthy dose of the amber liquid. She took her glass and clinked it against his. “To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”
He smiled, even as his heart broke a little. “To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.”
Their dinner came then, and he watched, utterly fascinated, as she first took a tentative bite of her food, then moaned with delight. Her blue eyes lit up and she looked so blissful that he just knew he would never forget that moment.
Feyre had never had such food before-warm and rich and savory and spicy. She was so enraptured by this life changing experience that she did not notice as Rhys polished off his own plate and went ahead to the counter to pay the tab.
He came back to find her lying contentedly in her seat, a hand on her belly and a sated smile on her face. He wished he was the one to put that smile on her face, having satisfied different cravings.
“Am I going to have to carry you out of here, Feyre darling?”
She blinked drowsily, and her smile turned sheepish.
“I might settle for being rolled out of here. I don’t think you could carry me when I just ate my body weight in the most delicious food I’ve ever had.”
“Is that a challenge?” He ran a predatory stare along her body, leaving tingles in its wake.
She smirked. “Is it?”
Then immediately regretted it as he carried her so fast she almost puked all over his chest.
“Easy!” she yelped, clutching his shoulders.
“You’re looking a little green, Feyre darling.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He chuckled and made his way toward the door.
“Wait. What about the tab?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Rhys.”
“Consider it a welcome dinner to our flat.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I thought I still had to pass through the screening process.”
He clucked his tongue. “Are you always so stubborn, Feyre darling, or is it the palpable sexual tension between us that’s making you testy?”
She rolled her eyes, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. So she resolved to put money in his back pocket later when he wasn’t looking, and instead snuggled deeper into his chest.
On their way home, she finally let sleep claim her. By the time they got to the flat, she was so far gone that she didn’t feel Rhys as he carried her up to his room and tucked her snuggly into his bed, and she didn’t hear the “sweet dreams, Feyre darling” he whispered as he brushed a kiss against her forehead. And sweet were her citrus scented dreams of star-kissed oceans.
