whistles fedora

Trick or Treat

Part 2

Modern Au where Mor drags Feyre to a Halloween party and she just so happens to run into Rhys who is the other half of her couples costume. (It follows my other fic which you can read here.)

Word Count: 3,058

((I will most likely be continuing this. And as always I would love your feedback.))

UPDATE: 

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9.

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“Come on, Feyre, you have to go, it’s Halloween,” Mor pleads with me from where she is perched on my bed.

I swivels in my chair. I was sitting at my desk, my latest project –which was giving me hell— was sitting atop it.

The assignment was to create a life like version of an iconic character, villain, or Halloween monster.

“Mor, you know I would love to go with you, but I need to finish my project. Plus, I don’t have a costume,” I admit, to her, I tap the end of my graphite pencil on the sketchpad next to my blank canvas. I hadn’t even begun to paint, and dozens of pieces of paper littered the floor around my desk. The assignment was due on Tuesday. Three days, that’s all I had now, and there was nothing on my canvas.

I look over to where Mor was sitting on my bed. Her makeup was already done. This year she was going as Tinkerbell and Peter pan with Azriel. Her golden hair was thrown up into an expertly slicked back bun. Sparkles adorned her cheeks and her eyes were done up in golds and soft shades of green.

We had both gotten grumbles from Azriel about wearing tights.  Tights, and the fact that he actually had to wear a color other than black for once in his life. The only reason he had shut up about it was because of the fact that Mor had told him that she would take it all off for him after the party.

“Come on Feyre, Rhys will be there, and you can wear my costume from last year, you’ll look so good in it. Please?” She dragged out the word as she clasped her hands together just below her chin.

Her lips were pulled into a pout, and I swear she was giving me puppy dog eyes.

My teeth clench together. I had tried not to think about Rhys or our fateful meeting of me beating him with a shoe. He was still in town, and ended up taking up the spare room in Cassian and Azriel’s house as a more permanent residence for the time being.

I had narrowly avoided him while he was staying here, but since he moved out I hadn’t see him. I would never admit this out loud, but some nights I would wake up with those damned eyes and his tattoos lingering behind me eyelids.

Damn his sexy tattoos.

And then of course there was the time I had walked in on him in the bathroom. In my defense, I thought he was Mor. We shared a bathroom so we were always walking in on each other.

But one day, I was dying with a headache and needed to get into medicine cabinet for Advil before it turned into a migraine. I walked right in on Rhys.

The water had just been shut off when I was trying to find it—I had heard curtain being pulled back as I grabbed the bottle and poured a few into my hand.

“Sorry Mor, I was just–” my sentence was cut short then, because Rhys was the one in the shower, not Mor.

He had had a towel slung low on his hips, water still glistening on his sculpted chest and abdominals.

His chest.

Good god, it was in that moment that I had decided I found tattoos incredibly attractive. Swirls of dark color covered his chest and shoulders, then faded out in tendrils of ink down his arms.

He had smiled at me with a wicked grin.

“You could have told me you were going to join me in the shower, Feyre darling,” he had purred at me.

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