#acotar spin the bottle

[illyrian-dreamer]

Spin the bottle

Jealous Azriel x Reader. Angst/fluff (the usuaaallll)

Summary: A drunken game of spin the bottle with the rest of the IC makes Azriel a grumpy boy. (But it’s actually pretty romantic).

Word count: 2.1k

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This was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

You looked up from where the bottle had finally stopped spinning. Flecks of red wine having splattered on the floorboards from what little remained in the deep green bottle, it’s long neck now pointed directly at your High Lord.

It was the eighth bottle of the night, or perhaps the ninth? It hardly mattered, you and your friends were stupidly drunk, so much so that when Cassian had suggested a childish game of spin the bottle with a wiggle of his eyebrows, you had snorted and excitedly agreed.

It had taken a variation of tactics to get the rest of the Inner Circle to play along.

Feyre had giggled, whispering something to her mate who merely winked back at her as they both took a place by the fire.

Mor had clapped in delight, poking fun at Amren who clung to Varian, but when her partner agreed, so had she.

Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian, but a smirk was set at her lips as he hauled her over his shoulder to the circle that was beginning to form. Even Elain hadn’t given much fight, blushing as she shrugged “If it’s only a kiss.” You had pecked her hands and gave a squeal of delight, pulling her to sit by your side.

That only left the amused, yet still brooding Shadowsinger.

Azriel kept his arms crossed, shaking his head with a stubborn smirk as each of you tried your own way to convince him to play, Some begged, some insulted, and some bargained with unfulfillable promise – all of which rendered useless against the Spymaster.

He leaned against the arm of the chase, dark hair falling in front of his honey-brown eyes. Despite his stubborn front, his wings were slouched and relaxed, Azriel’s tell-sign he was just as tipsy as the rest of you.

“C’mon Az,” you drawled, uncaring that you spoke with a slight slur. “You’ll be the only one not playing.” Dark shadows began to curl in your lap.

Azriel smiled tightly. “You’re all drunk.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

Calling the shadows back from the distance they had gained towards you, Azriel’s eyes narrowed on you playfully. His smile grew, yet he remained unmoved.

“Leave him be,” Cassian spoke, a hand covering one side of his mouth as if to tell you a secret, but with a volume high enough to ensure everyone would hear. “He’s just brooding because he lost the snowball fight yesterday.”

Azriel stiffened immediately, and spoke with lethal cool. “I did not lose.”

Rhysand grinned, chiming in. “You certainly did.”

“I only lost to a pair of cheats. You’re not supposed to work as a team.”

“Why not give me a big smooch and prove you’re not a loser at this game too, then?” Cassian boasted, arms wide and beckoning, his lips comically puckered.

The rest of you howled in unison, tears forming in your own eyes as you wiped them away. Azriel finally took a place in between you and Feyre, and as far away from Cassian as he could get.

The rules were simple – spin the bottle and kiss whoever it pointed at. If the bottle was to land on a relative, it would automatically direct to the first on their right.

And so the game began. Cassian declared the first round his, the bottle landing swiftly on Varian who merely chuckled. Cassian had grabbed both sides of his face, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth that sounded with a smack of his lips.

“Mmm, tastes like blood,” he teased at Amren, who merely scowled back. The rest of you were in hysterics, and you had to clutch at your stomach to stop it from hurting.

Mor was up next, the bottle reeling to a quick stop on Elain. The kiss was swift, but gentle, and had Elain thanking her with an shy giggle. Mor winked back at the blushing Archeron before returning to her spot.

Feyre had spun the bottle enthusiastically, and tipped her head back and laughed when it landed directly on her mate.

“C’mere darling,” he said smoothly, moving to dip her head back and plant a sensual kiss on her neck before slipping his tongue into her mouth. The group whooped and cheered, before Nesta declared she was to be sick and the couple finally broke their kiss.

Azriel was up next, and Cassian had roared with a cheer as the bottle landed in his direction. ‘Come here big guy!” Azriel had let him kiss him for all of two seconds, and kept a firm hand planted on his brother’s chest to ensure some distance was kept. You were sure you had never laughed harder in your life.

And so it was your turn. You were yet to be kissed, and felt a silly flutter of nerves as you crawled towards the bottle. It slowed to a stop. It’s long neck pointed directly at your High Lord.

“Well well,” Rhys mused, his violet eyes sparkling as a feline grin grew. “Try not to be too jealous, Feyre darling,” he winked at his mate. Feyre laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “I’m only glad it’s not Cassian,” she joked, earning a shove from the General.

Rhys was crouched in front of you now, his face relaxed yet playful. There was no denying his handsomeness – you certainly weren’t unhappy to be kissing him.

Rhys reached to cup your face, and as his long fingers found where your jaw meets your neck, you heard a sharp breath being sucked in from beside you.

Flicking your eyes over to Azriel, you saw his brow pulled in fury, his body completely stiffened and shadows nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t a second to process before Rhys’s lips found yours in a gentle kiss.

A kiss that lasted a mere second, before a cold, harsh voice spoke.

“Stop that.”

You and Rhys both broke away from the kiss. His hands were still on your face as you looked up at Azriel who now stood towering over the two of you, wings spread and chest fuming.

You couldn’t help but gawk at his erratic behaviour. “Azriel, what–?”

“Let go of her.” Azriel was practically growling at his High Lord.

Rhysand didn’t question him, instead he dropped his hands from your face immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said with a hushed voice. “I had no idea.”

The rest of the circle fell silent, each of you stunned by the Shadowinger’s outburst.

With a final fume from his chest and flare of his nostrils, Azriel folded to a winnow, vanishing from the room entirely.

“Well that was unexpected,” Mor spoke with a pull of her brow.

“I’ll say,” Feyre added.

Bringing a hand to your lips, the sensation of Rhys’s lips on yours lingered, and twinge of guilt cast through your stomach.

“Any idea of where he went?” you asked quietly, no longer amused with the game’s antics.

“The Sidra,” Rhys answered shortly, offering you a sorry smile before casting a long look at his mate, an obvious sign of their mind-to-mind exchange.

————

Velaris was freezing this time of year, and even your layers of wool, scarves and a heavy coat couldn’t protect you from the icy bite that blew from over the cold of the river. You found Azriel at a docking pier, solemnly leaning against the railing as the water sloshed below the planks.

There was no sneaking up on the Spymaster, yet he continued to ignore you as you approached.

“Care to explain yourself?” you spoke from some distance, making your way closer to him. His wings twitched at your words and knuckles whitened at their clutch on the railing, but Azriel kept his gaze on the night’s horizon.

You folded his coat over the railing, a small sign for a truce you were unsure was needed. When Azriel left it untouched, you sighed, folding your arms. “Put the coat on, Az.”

Without turning his head, Azriel cast a sideways glance before pulling the large black coat over his arms and wings. He was already a large and broad male, but the coat refined him further. It was quite a handsome look on the Shadowsinger.

“What happened back there?” you poached again.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “You wanted him to kiss you.”

Frowning, you were quick to defend yourself. “Not necessarily.”

“You did. I heard your heart fasten. I scented your excitement.”

“It was a game Azriel, one we all agreed to play.”

“I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes then. “Alright Az, I’m sorry we forced you–”

“I didn’t want to play because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else kissing you.”

You gawked at your friend. “Excuse me?”

Azriel had finally turned to face you, his eyes wild and swirling with gold, his frown deep and chest moving fast. You could hear his own heart then, beating far too fast.

“When Rhys looked at you like that, and touched you, and then h-he kissed you… Gods Y/N. You don't understand. It took everything I had to rip him off of you.”

You blinked at Azriel – never had he shown such vulnerability. “Is this an Illyrian thing?”

Azriel shook his head tightly, wild eyes still fixed on you, nostrils flaring yet again.

“Are you jealous?” you collected.

Azriel ignored your statement. “I ache to be the one to kiss you like that, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat then, and you were forced to take a gulp of quick air. “Do you desire me, Azriel?” Something in your core throbbed at the thought.

“Tonight I realised it’s more than that. You have a certain…pull on me,” he said, moving to step closer. “Every time you’re in a room, I feel the need to be near you. And when you leave, something beyond my will begs for me to follow. I feel anxious when you’re away, and unfulfilled if I haven’t seen you or even scented you in hours.”

Your were deadly still, eyes wide as Azriel continued to move closer, drawing a breath through his nose, claiming the smell of you he so desperately needed. A deep hum sounded from him, before scarred hands moved to grasp either side of your arms.

“You have no idea how much control you have over me. You rule me Y/N, dictate my every move, just by simply existing.”

Guilt, confusion, passion and a small glint of hope overwhelmed you as his words sunk in. Could it be? Something so rare sparked by a ridiculous exchange of puppy-love? Your hands moved on their own accord, seeking his to hold. And when your cold fingers slid over his scarred ones, Azriel’s touch ignited a current of warmth through your veins, heating you from the inside out. Your own eyes widened to find his softened, earnest and pleading.

“I never meant to hurt you by kissing Rhys.” Your voice was a whisper.

“I know. Gods, of course I know that. I’m acting rash, I’m aware.” Azriel kept your hands in his, but looked down now, shaking his head. “Mother above, this is insanity!”

“It’s not insanity,” you said softly, stepping closer and bringing a hand to cup his chiselled cheek. “It’s the mating bond.”

Azriel froze then, his eyes locked on yours. “You feel it too?”

“I do now,” you said with a faint smile.  

Azriel brow pulled in painful relief. “I heard it snap the moment Rhys’s lips found yours,” he admitted.

You cringed at the thought. “Gods, what an awful way to find out.” You pulled him closer to you, instincts igniting as your body begged to be closer to him, pressed against him bare if you could. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel was silent as he moved to entwine himself with you, strong arms encompassing you, protecting you. For a moment you held each other, savouring the feel of a perfect fit, two pieces of a puzzle having finally interlocked. Your kept your check pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was now a melody to your ears.

Looking up, you trembled in awe of his beauty, gingerly stroking his cheek before rubbing your thumb gently over his bottom lip. A deep sound left his chest then, and it thrilled you – you were tuning him with your touch.

“Be mine?” he asked, biting back his own urges as you leaned on your toes, reaching closer to his face.

“Only yours,” you whispered before pressing your lips against his, indulging in the euphoric sensation of the eternal tether binding you to your mate.

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A/N: Look, I truly believe not all fics have to end with a mating bond. But this one does, ok? Hope you enjoyed, thank you to @aroseinvelaris for the request!! 

Also did you spot the slightest Mor x Elain crackship?? If you blink you might have missed it.... but I got excited lol. 

Thanks always for reading! MWA

[dawneternal]

✨ A Court of Mischief and Matchmaking ✨

Summary: Feyre, the meddling matchmaker, devises a plan to speed up the numerous budding romances in the Night Court. A mischievous human game called 'spin the bottle'

Meant to be silly and fun. Includes a few crack ships.

Post Azriel bonus chapter. Pro-gwyriel and pro-lucien undertones. And pro-the-batboys-have-kissed-at-least-once-before

Rating: Just kissing

Word Count: 4k

Ao3 link

Feyre, ever the observant busybody, had been watching the interactions at family dinners with extra care for a while now. She had noticed a great many things while doing so. She also knew that Rhys, who rarely turned off the spying instincts in his brain, had noticed these things as well. But he did nothing but store them away in case they became important later.

Feyre was not as content to stay idle. Her observations stirred a restlessness within her, a desire to stick her hands into the situation and help. Not necessarily to interfere, but to grant momentum to anything that was already in motion.

Elain, who had once been growing bolder in her interactions with Azriel, had abruptly become quiet in his presence. She still conversed with everyone else, but carefully kept her gaze away from his. Gwyn, however, snuck small glances at the shadowsinger quite frequently, growing in number with every family dinner she attended.

Emerie looked for Mor at every chance, though she hid her disappointment well when the blonde was absent. But Feyre still noticed the slight droop to her wings and the dampened glimmer in her eyes.

The longing in Lucien's own eyes had never ceased, though he had learned that giving Elain any focused attention would only lead to rejection and embarrassment. Feyre could almost see the wilting bond between them, and the golden possibility of happiness if it was allowed to bloom.

Rhysand noticed his mate's expression as she watched it all. The determination, glints of sadness and hope. He smiled to himself, wondering when she would present a plan to him.

And sure enough, after dinner one night, she crawled into his lap as he sat at work in his study, looping her arms around his neck.

"I have a bit of a plan," She said, watching his face while he read the paper in his hand.

"What is that, my love?" He asked, running his fingers over her back with his free hand.

"I want to nudge fate a little bit. Just push it along if I can."

"Is that so?"

"I know you know what I'm talking about," she grumbled, grasping his chin and turning his gaze toward her. He relented, smiling down at her with happy violet eyes.

"Tell me your plan, matchmaker." He hummed, resting his forehead against hers.

"I want to play spin the bottle," She said firmly. Rhys's eyebrows shot upwards as he pulled back to look at her.

"And risk having to kiss any of the others?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Feyre laughed, "imagine the mischief and tell me it doesn't sound fun."

He had, already. And he agreed with her. But that would not stop his desire to tease.

"Wouldn't it trigger your territorial tendencies to watch me kiss someone else?" He asked her with a sly smile.

"You're the possessive one," Feyre scoffed, "I'm wondering if you can handle it."

"As long as you make it up to me," Rhys whispered, caressing the bridge of his nose along her cheekbone.

Feyre knew this was his permission and agreement to play along. The matchmaker inside her glowed and began plotting with new fervor.

***

"We're going to play a game tonight," Feyre announced to the group, "One that I remembered from the human lands."

It was a rare night when the entire family was all together. Mor had returned from the continent, Lucien had returned to check in, and all three Valkyries had managed to attend. Feyre had waited for a night like this patiently. Nyx laid down after dinner with no fuss, as if he knew his mother's intentions.

Then they had all settled in the living room, a fire in the hearth and various drinks in their hands. Feyre had drawn the furniture in a little closer together, forming a misshapen oval. If anyone had noticed, they hadn't said a thing.

"What game?" Nesta asked, suspiciously, squinting at her sister.

"Spin the bottle," Feyre crossed her arms and looked back at her sister in challenge. She was met with a few laughs throughout the room.

"Oh, we have spin the bottle here, too," Mor snorted, holding her stomach as she laughed.

"But no bottle," Lucien noted, hoping this may deter the shenanigans.

Mor only held up a finger, then grabbed her wine bottle and held it to her lips, downing it in a most unladylike fashion. She set it on the floor in the middle of their circle and slumped back in her chair, wiping the wine from her lip with one hand and pointing at Feyre with the other.

"High Lady goes first," Mor grinned.

"Everyone has to agree first," Rhys said, chuckling at his cousin's eagerness. "Though I'm not above using a High Lord's command. We all know how I enjoy giving Feyre what she wants."

He looked around the room, met with a chorus of reluctant and eager agreements. Cassian and Mor seemed to be the most enthusiastic, as was typical for most proposed games and festivities. Even Gwyn nodded, though she blushed bright pink and fidgeted in her chair. Azriel, though, said nothing. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed, absolutely glowering at his brother.

"What's the matter, Az?" Rhysand grinned at this brother, "A bit out of practice?"

Feyre cringed, but Rhysand had struck the right cord. Something flashed in Azriel's eyes and he gritted out a "fine."

Amren, however, grabbed her wine glass and retreated to the bay window.

"I'm not playing," she scowled, curling up against a pile of plush pillows. There were a few sad sounds, but no one pushed her. Her Summer Court lover was not here, tonight, and she would have nothing to do with the rest of them. A High Lord's command only seemed to work on her about half the time anyways.

"Alright then," Feyre grinned and leaned down to spin the empty wine bottle, "let the game begin."

They all watched in silence as the bottle spun around and around, rattling against the floorboards, and slowed to a stop, pointing at Lucien.

Feyre and Lucien looked at each other, something akin to displeasure mirrored on their faces. This, of course, was noted with guffaws and cheers from their audience. Feyre did not look at Rhys, knowing exactly what he would say into her mind if she did. Her own words, mimicked back to her; 'It's a risk I'm willing to take.'

So Feyre swallowed her pride and met Lucien in the middle of the circle. Lucien wasted no time, bringing his hand to her cheek and meeting her lips to get it over with. Not much longer than a peck, there was no semblance of spark passed between them. At one point, human Feyre may have jumped at the chance to kiss him. But now that he was involved with her sister, all of that desire had died.

They pulled apart, looking at each other for a moment before both shrugged and returned to their seats. Cassian and Nesta cheered and Mor was laughing again. Rhys's eyes twinkled at her as she turned to sit back down, clearly amused. She snuck a quick glance at her sister and found Elain's face flushed, but her expression was unreadable.

"Your turn," she flashed Rhys a smug grin as she returned to her spot curled up beside him.

Rhysand sighed and spun the bottle. Feyre noted Gwyn's pale face and wondered if she would refuse to kiss the High Lord if it landed on her. To Gwyn's apparent relief, the bottle pointed at Cassian.

Cassian grinned, pulling his arm from around Nesta's shoulder to beckon him. Rhys swaggered across to Cassian with a matching smirk. He stood to the side of the loveseat so as not to block Feyre's view. Hands tangling in Cassian's hair, he leaned in and kissed him. It was certainly not as shy as Feyre and Lucien's had been, quite the opposite. Passionate and almost sloppy, deepening with every second they pulled each other closer. And Cassian's hand slid over Rhys's jaw with an ease and familiarity that made Feyre wonder how often this had happened in the past 500 years.

Very aware of the reactions that had spread throughout the room, they grinned after pulling away. Like the show-offs they were. Rhysand cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, and Cassian merely slid his arm back around his mate's shoulder, meeting her bewildered look with a smug smile.

Feyre wrinkled her nose as she noted the gleam in her sister's smouldering eyes that hinted at her arousal. Amren snorted at the scene from her corner. Feyre's eyebrows raised as her mate turned back toward her, and he flashed her a look that said I'll explain later.

"Gwyn," Rhys gestured to her as he took his seat, arm draping over Feyre's legs.

Gwyn paled again, but swallowed hard and spun the bottle, albeit a bit feebly. Feyre thought she saw the quickest of glances towards Azriel as she did so. Feyre eyed the shadowsinger from her peripheral. He was stoic as always, though one shadow near his ankle was trying to tug away from him, toward the priestess. As if he could barely keep it contained. Interesting.

Gwyn's spin landed on Nesta, and Mor gave a particularly loud cheer. Gwyn's giggling smile was infectious, her bubbling laughter pulling smiles from the whole group's faces, even Amren.

Nesta grinned back at her and crossed the circle before Gwyn could move. She grasped Gwyn's face in both hands and gave her a short but loving kiss, adding a peck to the tip of her nose and forehead. Feyre's heart warmed at the affection they held for each other, deepened by their experiences in the Blood Rite. Nesta's friends were the best thing to come out of her move to the house of wind, and Feyre took no credit for it. Nesta had done it all on her own. Emerie and Gwyn exchanged giggling looks and elbowed each other as Nesta sauntered away.

Emerie was next and she quickly sobered upon realizing. She reached for the bottle and spun, sighing as she waited for it to reveal her fate. The bottle stopped, pointing at Mor, and half the room held their breath.

Mor, slightly tipsy from finishing the bottle, smiled at Emerie with wine-red lips and went to meet her in the middle. It was the most nervous the other Valkyries had ever seen Emerie. She was notoriously unshakable. Her only weakness, apparently, was pretty blondes in low cut dresses.

Mor slid one hand into Emerie's curls and met her lips. It was shy to start, but quickly grew heated as they pulled each other closer, heads tilting to deepen the kiss. Mor grasped Emerie's waist as Emerie's own hand settled on Mor's neck, thumb sweeping across her jaw. Cassian whistled, but they didn't seem to hear it. As their kiss-turned-make-out began to go on just a bit too long, Mor's hand starting to reach below Emerie's waist, Rhysand cleared his throat loudly.

They jumped apart, breathing heavy, looking at each other with glazed eyes. Mor broke into a smile and Emerie laughed as they reluctantly let each other go. Gwyn's eyebrows waggled back and forth as Emerie returned to her seat. Rhys flashed Feyre a look, and in her mind asked is this what you were hoping for? She ignored him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. But she was smiling, too.

They all glanced at Nesta, who looked as if she had hoped no one would realize it was her turn. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms to reach for the bottle. Feyre knew better, of course. Her sister enjoyed this sort of game. She saw it as a challenge.

Feyre saw it in her eyes, that glimmer of determination as the bottle landed on Rhys. Rhys blinked, lifting his gaze to Nesta to see what she would do. She gave him a sly smile, the challenger showing through. So, Rhys gathered his own resolve and rose to meet her.

Feyre had gone through the game in her mind earlier that day, knowing who she hoped would be paired, and who she hoped would manage to stay away from each other. Somehow, she had not considered this possibility. Either her sister would devour her mate whole (and not in a good way), or the other way around and there would be no Nesta left at the end. This may not end well.

What Feyre had not expected, was for Rhysand to grab Nesta's face gently in his hands and press a soft, deep kiss to her mouth. But she knew right away why he had done it. Nesta was not expecting the tender, coaxing kiss that he gave her. She had expected him to fight, had grabbed the collar of his shirt in her fists in anticipation of something cruel and bruising.

So when his lips met hers so gently, dragging her into the depths of his night-kissed affection, she lost herself for a moment. Just a moment. The room was full of wide eyes and baited breaths as the pair pulled apart, waiting to see what the fallout would be.

Nesta stared at him through her lashes in a way that revealed the girl in her, slowly unravelling her fingers from the fabric of his shirt. Rhysand smiled back at her, real kindness in it as if to bring her back to herself gradually. It spread into a sly grin, and Nesta blushed, finally realizing that Rhys had won.

She tossed her head in response, not noticing the jealousy that took over her mate's face. Cassian was not very jealous as a general rule. But apparently Rhysand, who Cassian looked up to so much, was one of the few that posed a true threat in the warrior's mind.

"I suppose I can see it," She said, her voice a little unsteady as she waved a dismissive hand toward Feyre.

Of course, Rhysand was absolutely delighted with himself. This was a boost to his ego that he certainly had not needed. When the others were sure that a brawl had been avoided, they burst into howling laughter. Nesta was above it all, looking down her nose at the rabble with her arms crossed once again. Cassian tucked her closer into his side, eyes ablaze.

Then he realized that it was his turn, and he could seize the opportunity to make Nesta jealous in turn. He all but jumped to give the bottle a spin.

The bottle, ironically, pointed to Nesta. Feyre, who had felt Rhys power flicker, looked up at him. He gave her the tiniest of smiles back.

The group let out a collective groan, having been subjected to the couple's displays countless times. Gwyn raised her hand in a preemptive measure, shielding herself from any obscene thing about to happen.

Nesta gave him a warning look, but Cassian did not hesitate to pounce on her, wrapping his arms around Nesta and devouring her with the same fervor he applied to battle. For all Nesta's airs of irritation and impatience, she smiled against his lips as she kissed him back. When they pulled apart, unprompted for once, she was flushed and beaming. No one could hold a candle to her warrior, after all. All of Cassian's jealousy seemed to have washed away.

Next in rotation was Mor, who grinned and stretched her arms above her head, as if to prepare. She spun the bottle with a flick of her wrist, eyes never moving as it whirled around.

And landed on Azriel.

Her eyes snapped up to his, hints of anxiety on both of their features. And of course, the anxiety of the group rippled back toward them, nearly palpable. It annoyed Azriel as hit him like a wave. Like they all thought he would fall apart the second she touched him. Mor looked at him like she was contemplating whether to turn him down. But she saw the twitch of his jaw and understood.

Mor stood and made her way to him, dropping down on his lap as he looked up at her. His hand wrapped around her waist as if on instinct, as if he had thought about what to do in this moment countless times. As usual, his shadows hurried away to hide from Mor's glowing aura. Inside, Azriel was bracing to laugh it off as the others had. Make it a joke, something lighthearted.

But the way she looked at him, eyes glimmering as if she were holding back tears, stirred the deep well of emotions in his chest. She threaded her fingers through his curls, brushing her thumb over his temple as she kissed him. Tenderly, he pulled her in tighter. But there was no longing in their kiss, as the others may have expected. There was an undertone of sadness.

Mor pulled away, resting her forehead against his as her hand slid down to hold his face. Then they locked eyes, something invisible passing between them as they held each other. Feyre blushed a little, feeling like she was peering in on something she shouldn't be. It seemed to be a shared sentiment, everyone but shamless Amren averting their gaze. Feyre did notice that Elain had been looking anywhere else since the moment Mor had stood up. And Gwyn looked as though she was holding her breath. Nothing like jealousy or animosity anywhere on her face, she was only waiting to see what would happen.

When Mor finally untangled herself from him and Feyre could read his face, she found...gratitude? Then she understood, something twisting in her heart at the bittersweetness of it. Mor had been saying goodbye. To whatever had been growing and wilting between them in a perpetual cycle for centuries now. She felt her mate squeeze her hand and she looked at him to see the gleam of a single tear at the corner of his eye.

The tension lifted as Mor returned to her chair and they all realized Elain was next. Elain was sometimes a wild card to Feyre, who had not known if Elain would love or hate this game. But she hadn't turned it down, despite her apparent discomfort when Azriel had chosen the chair next to hers before the game had been proposed.

But right now, Elain had a bit of mischief hiding behind her smile. She gave the bottle a spin and sat back, waiting.

The room was in uproar when it came to a stop on Cassian.

"Did he put a magnet in that thing or something?" Lucien muttered, earning another wave of laughter.

But Elain took the challenge. And it was not the shadowsinger she looked at before making her way to Cassian, nor her mate who was expertly masking any emotion he felt. It was Nesta she glanced at, something haughty in it that insinuated revenge.

Cassian did not have time to react before Elain grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him toward her. Her usual temperament was nowhere to be seen, some sly vixen replacing the proper lady. Elain kissed him hard, so hard it pushed him backwards, her lips working against his feverishly. Cassian tried to meet her pace but she had taken him off guard.

She finished her display by pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and releasing his shirt to let him slump back on the couch. Nesta looked at her sister incredulously, too surprised to show any anger. Whatever it was that existed between Elain and Nesta had been leveled, that was certain. Nesta saw her sisters demand for what it was. Don't underestimate me again.

Cassian was still silent with bewilderment, his eyes a little glazed over. Her kiss may have held a message for Nesta, but Elain also reveled in the chance to shake Cassian up a little bit. Rhys broke the stunned silence, howling in laughter at his brother's surprise. It was not very often that Cassian was bested in such a way. He had not expected anything like it from demure Elain. Especially not in front of her mate and the shadowsinger. Which Rhys figured was likely why she'd agreed to play the game in the first place.

Feyre whipped her head toward them, remembering that they existed. Azriel showed nothing, but Feyre figured he may still be sorting through anything that Mor's gesture had brought up inside him. But Lucien...Lucien kept his expression neutral but she could tell he was positively boiling under the surface.  She could sense the power coursing through his blood as he tried to keep it in check. Cassian was too distracted to consider Lucien, the typically cordial redhead currently plotting his violent demise.

"Spy master," Rhysand said, easing the attention away from Elain and her mate, "your turn."

Azriel sighed, but did as he was told. He seemed as eager to get this over with as Lucien had been. The room stilled for a moment as the bottle landed between Lucien and Feyre's chairs, pointing straight at Amren on the window seat, half-asleep with an empty wine glass in hand. She realized they all stared at her and shook herself awake.

"I'm not playing," She snapped, curling into herself further.

"Come on, Amren," Rhys goaded. Someone began a chant of her name and soon they were all cheering and coaxing.

Azriel stood in the center, grinning at her, holding out a hand. Perhaps he should have been scared, but there was not anyone else he particularly wanted to kiss. Certainly not during a game in front of a jeering audience. This, at least, could be entertaining.

Amren flipped them off, but set her wineglass on the floor and stepped inside the circle of chairs and sofas. As soon as she was within distance, Azriel snatched her around the waist and dipped her low, pressing his lips to hers in an admittedly very romantic and passionate kiss. It lingered for the perfect amount of time. Long enough for her to process the gesture but not long enough to elicit a punishment from her. He pulled her upright again and let her go, grinning in anticipation of her response.

"Very well, shadowsinger," Amren sniffed and smoothed her dress.

The cheers, laughter, and whistling erupted again, the loudest of the night. Spin the bottle was not typically a game with a winner, but somehow Azriel had bested them all. Despite the dramatic displays of Rhysand and Elain, the spark between Mor and Emerie, the emotion of Mor's goodbye, Azriel had undoubtedly received the highest praise of anyone. Not only had Amren refrained from ripping him to shreds, but gave him a near-compliment and looked a bit dizzy. Of course, that would be going straight to Azriel's head.

Feyre peeked at Gwyn once more. She and Emerie were laughing heartily, but Gwyn's face was flushed, eyes glittering in such a way that the matchmaker wondered if Gwyn would be picturing herself in Amren's place.

There was one more turn to anticipate, tonight. Though everyone knew, including Lucien, that nothing would top Azriel's turn. Azriel wooing Amren would go down in history, now a part of the lore of the inner circle.

Lucien gave the bottle it's last spin, looking a little tired as he waited for it to stop. And then-

"No, absolutely not." Lucien held up his hand as the bottle pointed toward Cassian. Mor was doubled over with laughter and Nesta had to wipe tears from her eyes. Cassian tried to look offended, but was not even effectively holding back his own giggles.

"Game over," Lucien declared as he caught Elain stifling a laugh. He picked up the bottle and tossed it in the trash. The raucous laughter continued, Gwyn and Emerie clutching each other for support. Even Azriel laughed with the rest of them, the tips of his ears turning pink with mirth.

Feyre, quite pleased with herself and the results of her plan, did not argue Lucien. Several courses had been set as a result of her meddling. And she was already planning the next step.

[peotego]

Azriel the Shadowsinger fics recommedation

To all the authors I've included: thank you for writing awesome fics, I admire your work with all my heart ❤️

⋙ All of @tadpolesonalgae works - masterlist

⋙ Never been good enough Part 2 Part 3 by @lure-of-writing

⋙ All of @bubbles-for-all-of-us works - masterlist

⋙ Confessions by @azriels-shadowsinger

⋙ Closure Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 by @jeannineee

⋙ Spin the bottle by @illyrian-dreamer

⋙ Walk away Part 2 by @azsazz

⋙ be yours by @writingsbychlo

⋙ Salvation by @azrielhours

⋙ Lease of life series by @lucysstoryworld

⋙ Lips of an angel Part 2 Part 3 by @azsazz

⋙ Confessions at starfall by @illyrian-dreamer

⋙ Fractured friends by @acotar-writing

⋙ Confessions by @azriels-shadowsinger

⋙ All of @bubbles-for-all-of-us works - masterlist

⋙ Untouchable by @serpentandlily

⋙ Mystique by @serpentandlily

⋙ Arcane by @serpentandlily

⋙ Inadvertently Yours series by @leafsandstarlight

⋙ Forced Revelations by @leafsandstarlight

⋙ Love You in the dark by @acourtofmenandthirst

⋙ A field of dandelions by @prythianpages

⋙ The Quiet Ones by @writingcroissant

⋙ Daughter of Autumn by @writingcroissant

[chairofchaos]

30, 52, or 58

Nyxlin because my gods that first part has me full sold on them

Please!

The Wine Cellar

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin Summary: In which Nyxlin get stuck in a wine cellar. Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: There's drinking. Because wine cellar. Nothing else that I can think of! A/N: Shoutout to @thrumbolt who enthusiastically informed me the proper ship name is NYXLIN. Also, this was supposed to be a drabble, but it turned into 2.4k so fast. It is connected to the Nyxlin drabble "Banned from Bed" if you're interested! Linked in my masterlist under ACOTAR>Drabbles! <3 Prompt 58: being locked in a small space

As soon as Tamlin stepped to the second step, the heavy door slammed behind him. “No, no, no, no.”

“Lord Tamlin?”

The voice came from total darkness. Tamlin shifted his eyes quickly into the eyes of an owl so that he could see down the stairs more clearly.

Nyx. He was locked in a wine cellar with Nyx Archeron. To Nyx’s credit, he looked absolutely petrified to be facing his mother’s ex-lover in Thesan’s wine cellar. 

"Nyx?"

“Um. Yes. Hello,” the male said. He was almost 300 years old, wasn’t he? Not the smooth salesman his father had been at that age, then.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a key, or a way out, would you?” Tamlin asked cooly. Nyx fidgeted, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he looked in Tamlin’s general direction.

“No. You don’t, either?”

Tamlin shook his head until he saw Nyx pause quizzically, awaiting an answer. Right. Total darkness. He may be the Darling of the Night Court, but Nyx couldn’t see anything here. “No, I don’t.”

Nyx spun on his heel and began to pace. The room wasn’t very large. It was Thesan’s private wine cellar, and Elain Archeron had sent him (by request of Thesan) to retrieve a bottle of wine he wanted for dinner. 

“Could you break us out?” Nyx asked. He paused his pacing, looking rather peevish as he looked up. 

“I wish,” Tamlin admitted, sitting on the stairs. “Thesan has intense spellwork on this cellar.”

Nyx nodded shakily. “I know. Aunt Elain had to talk me through how to get into them. And they’re so strong, I couldn’t even make a faelight.”

He returned to his pacing, his hands fidgeting away at his sides. It was on his sixty fourth trip across the room that Tamlin smelled blood. Not a lot, but in a small room like this, it only took a drop. Nyx was facing the far wall, and wouldn’t turn around for another second or two.

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked. He immediately regretted it. What did he care for the life of the child of his ex-lover and the male she had left him for? But he had asked, anyway. 

Nyx froze mid-spin. “I- What?”

Tamlin sniffed. Definitely blood. “You’re bleeding.”

Nyx started, so Tamlin added, “I can smell it.”

That didn’t seem to put the lord at any ease. “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Nyx wavered as he resumed his pacing, his eyes darting between Tamlin’s form and the floor. He still couldn’t see Tamlin, because he never came close to making eye contact. “I just bit my lip.”

“Are you certain?”

Nyx stopped entirely and frowned, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. He has Feyre’s eyes, Tamlin realized. No wonder he thought they were pretty.

“I’m fine,” Nyx snapped. And there is Rhysand.

“Alright,” Tamlin said.

But Nyx wasn’t done, and he started pacing again, hands waving emphatically. “I just don’t like being trapped. And this room is only ten feet by eight feet, and the shelves take up all but the three foot walkway between them, so I am feeling very, very trapped. I do not like this. I couldn’t even fit my wings properly if I–”

Nyx froze, completely froze this time, as he turned back to face Tamlin. “I’m sorry.”

Well. That was unexpected, coming from an Archeron. “Sorry for what?”

“Rambling. To you.”

Tamlin shrugged, leaning back on the staircase to prop himself up on his elbows. “You wouldn’t be the first to do it. Lucien’s much worse than you are.”

Nyx snorted. “He’s so put together. Uncle Lucien doesn’t ramble.”

Tamlin laughed at that, and Nyx looked so curious that he couldn’t help but add, “Oh yes, he does, if you give him the right amount of liquor. Or if you ask him about Elain when he’s tired. He’ll talk for hours about the curl of her hair, the pretty color of her new dress. Try it sometime.”

Nyx laughed. “I’ll do that.”

“What do you say we crack open one of these expensive bottles of wine to pass the time?” Tamlin offered. 

Nyx shook his head. “I can’t. Lord Thesan would kill me.”

“I outrank you,” Tamlin shrugged, standing up. “Blame it on me like the rest of your family.”

Nyx paled and said nothing. 

Tamlin chuckled, stepping down the stairs to reach for an 800 year old bottle of Autumn merlot. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing new.”

Nyx shuffled back until his back hit the wall. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see you.”

If it was at all possible for a fae to turn green without literally turning green, Nyx Archeron was making his best attempt. “What?”

“I can see you.”

“Mothers’ tits,” Nyx swore, crossing his arms. “You shifted your eyes.”

“Yes,” Tamlin said, grinning. “And it’s been very informative.”

Nyx frowned, then seemed to think better of it, and schooled his face to something more neutral. “How so?”

Tamlin shrugged out of habit, scoring the wax seal on the wine bottle with a taloned finger. “It isn’t every day you learn an heir to the Night Court is afraid of the dark.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark!” Nyx threw his hands up in the air. Tamlin began to sink a falcon’s talon into the cork to try to pull it off. “I said I’m afraid of small spaces!”

Tamlin froze at the same time as Nyx, the wine bottle in his hands forgotten for the confession the male had made.

Nyx swore again. “Please, don’t mention it. Ever.”

“No,” Tamlin shook his head. “I won’t. But, are you alright?” He took a swig of the wine straight from the bottle. 

“No!” Nyx shouted. He tugged at his black curls (oh, why was that attractive?) before waving his hands in the air as if gesturing at the room. “I am not.”

“Is there…” Tamlin sighed, setting the wine back on the shelf. “Can I help?”

Nyx rolled his eyes, crossing his arms again. He had as much attitude as his parents, the brat. “No.”

“I will, if I can.” 

“I don’t want your help.”

“So I could help, you just don’t want it?” Tamlin teased. It was like he had forgotten, in the absurdity of the position they were in, just who this male was.

Nyx bit his bottom lip and scuffed his toe against the ground. It didn’t seem to matter if he knew Tamlin could see him. That, or in his anxiety, he had forgotten he could be seen at all. “No.”

“Great. Now that we’ve established you don’t want my help, what can I do?”

Nyx sighed. “Hug me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You could hug me. It’s easier to pretend I’m somewhere else if I have physical contact.”

It was Tamlin’s turn to freeze. Well, this was ending up one of the weirder days in Tamlin’s life. “Alright,” he shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. He had said he would help. Of course, that meant he actually had to do it. He wouldn’t be made a liar by Feyre’s son, of all fae.

Nyx rubbed his arm, shifting his weight awkwardly. Tamlin strode to him, then murmured, “Any particular… request?”

Nyx shook his head. Standing close to him, Tamlin could see the blood crusting on his lower lip and the panicked glaze in his eyes. “Alright.”

When his arm went around the male’s back, Tamlin was surprised to find how easily Nyx folded into his arms. One of his hands hovered for a second above Tamlin’s heart before fisting into the fabric of his shirt. Nyx smelled like ink and a piney soap he couldn’t quite place. It was distracting enough that it took Tamlin a few seconds to realize how tightly Nyx was gripping his shirt. In the same moment, he realized he didn’t care if the fabric was wrinkled. 

Mother save me, Tamlin thought as Nyx buried his face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Nyx whispered. Lost for words, Tamlin simply stroked the male’s back and nodded.

Nyx’s breaths slowed, and after a few moments, his grip on Tamlin’s shirt loosened. He was muscular, more so than his thin frame would suggest. Still, his shoulders were much more tense than the rest of his body, as though he carried the weight of the world in the muscles which lay there. 

“You’re so tense,” Tamlin murmured. Nyx huffed, picking his head up and leaning back. “What?”

Cauldron boil and fry me. “Your shoulders. You’re tense.”

“I am stuck in a wine cellar,” Nyx returned, sounding every bit as though he’d rather be discussing anything else.

“This didn’t happen in the last hour,” Tamlin countered, his hand drifting up to squeeze Nyx’s shoulder as if to confirm. Nyx rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to step back, but Tamlin was quicker, and tightened the arm around the male’s waist. “Nyx.”

Nyx stiffened, eyes widening as he looked at Tamlin. His jaw dropped slightly, a huff of air leaving his lips. Tamlin raised an eyebrow. “You’re a beast,” Nyx snarled suddenly with flashing eyes. 

Tamlin would have responded in kind had it not been the snarl of a cornered animal. “Nyx.”

Nyx pinched his bicep. “Let me go.” 

“Fine,” Tamlin returned, raising his hands in mock surrender. He had pinched him. Brat. “As you wish.”

Nyx retreated to the far wall, breathing heavily before resuming his pacing. Tamlin grabbed the bottle of wine, reclaiming his perch on the stairs as Nyx turned angrily on his heel. “You’re going to wear a path in the floor.”

“I don’t care,” Nyx snapped. 

“Why so hostile all of a sudden? You were the one who asked me for help.”

Nyx said nothing, so Tamlin took another swig of wine. Mother help him. Somebody needed to find them, and soon. 

Ten minutes later, Tamlin heard the creaking of the hinges above him. Light which was way too bright filtered into the room, and he blinked as he looked up, shifting his eyes back quickly.

“Nyx?” Lucien said. Then, as though surprised, he added, “Tamlin? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t let the door shut!” Nyx said quickly.

Lucien eyed his nephew and his friend with concern, but took a step back, holding the door open. Nyx bolted up the stairs as quickly as he could, his legs brushing Tamlin’s shoulder as he did so. Pine. The scent of his soap was so strong.

“I’ll grab the wine,” Tamlin said dully, standing to walk down the stairs and into the gloomy cellar. He had drunk half of the bottle of wine he was already holding. What was another?

He grabbed a bottle, and found himself questioning why Elain Archeron would send him to get a bottle of wine. Surely a servant could have been spared for this errand?

Nyx and Lucien spoke in low voices at the top of the stairs, but when Tamlin began climbing the stairs, they stopped quickly, Nyx stepping further out of the doorway to let Tamlin through. 

Lucien was examining his nephew the way he assessed prey, and when his eyes, one russet, one golden, slid to Tamlin’s approaching form, he blinked quickly as if to clear his vision of some obstruction.

Tamlin ignored his oldest friend, pressing the sealed bottle of wine into his hands. “I’m not coming to dinner. Please give Thesan my compliments and let him know I’ve gone to bed.”

“Why?” Nyx’s head shot up at that, looking concerned. Tamlin ground his teeth together, swirling the remaining wine in the bottle he still held. 

“I’m tired.”

Lucien nodded. “We’ll tell him.”

“Do you need anything?” Nyx’s heedless words clearly surprised him as much as Lucien and Tamlin. The tips of his ears flushed as Lucien arched an eyebrow at the young male while Tamlin looked at him one last time. Last, because whatever pine scent was addling his brain could not find him again.

“No,” Tamlin shook his head, not unkindly. 

“Alright. Thank you for your help.” Nyx turned and walked away, his steps quick. 

Lucien’s hand shot out to still Tamlin before he could turn in the other direction. 

“What is he thanking you for?”

Tamlin felt his cheeks heat. Fuck. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Lucien.”

Lucien tilted his head. “He’s my nephew.”

“I know.”

“Rhysand’s son.”

“I know.”

“Did you,” Lucien waved a hand in the air, grimacing. “Did something happen with him?”

Tamlin ground out, “No.” 

Lucien raised an accusatory eyebrow.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tamlin growled.

Lucien sighed. “If you insist.”

Tamlin bit his tongue, barely refraining from asking why Lucien might have thought that they would have been together in the first place.

“Goodnight, Tamlin.”

Tamlin nodded, finally stepping away from the redhead who saw far too much. “Goodnight, Lucien.”

Mother help anyone who tried to get something past Lucien and his mate. Elain could see far more than she let on. It was no doubt she– Elain, Tamlin realized suddenly. Hadn’t Nyx said Elain had sent him there as well? Tamlin swore under his breath, turning to call down the hall. 

“Lucien!”

Lucien turned to face him. 

“Tell your wife I need to talk to her tomorrow, please.”

Lucien sighed. “I’ll ask her.”

“No,” Tamlin shook his head. “Tell her. It’s essential.”

“I will ask her,” Lucien repeated firmly. “She isn’t yours to order any more than she is mine.”

Tamlin swallowed at the hard set of Lucien’s face. His role as the heir of Day had changed things between them, but never before had Lucien leveled such a look in his direction. “Very well.”

Lucien smiled faintly in acknowledgement, then raised a hand in a parting before resuming his walk towards the dining room. 

Lucien be damned. Tamlin swore he could still smell the scent of pine, his chest tightening with something akin to longing as he thought of the hand which had fisted in his shirt, the blood on Nyx’s lip. Fuck. It lingered, no matter where he tried to drive his thoughts. Tamlin swore as he opened the door to his rooms, then shut it behind him once again.

They had only just met, but somehow, Tamlin knew: Nyx Archeron would be the death of him.

Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @dusk-muse @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse

[sjmvillainweek]

Six...

Six more days until SJM Villain Week officially begins, everyday a new random headcanon for a random villain is being posted to count us down. Reblog with your own headcanons for any of the villains, or to randomly choose a villain, you can use the Spin The Wheels we have linked at the bottom of the post! Tag anyone who would like to share their headcanons!

Day 10 Headcanon

Day 9 Headcanon

Day 8 Headcanon

Day 7 Headcanon

SJM Villain Headcanon: Beron Vanserra (ACOTAR)-

Beron has a very very strict routine, he schedules his day down to the minute, everything is incredibly precise and calculated with zero room for error. If someone makes a mistake that results in the push back of his schedule it's coming out of their paycheck, or their broken bones.

The only time you would ever, ever catch Beron in an unorganized state would be when he's drunk.

Beron is the worst drunk, because he shifts violently from the composed, cruel and calculating High lord, to a self-proclaimed wanderer of the world.

Beron half a bottle of whiskey in is promptly heading out the door thinking "It's time for a walk in the woods."

The servants have to be on high alert because at any moment they could turn their heads and suddenly their High lord, who was earlier berating them for their incompetence, is in a tree somewhere and unable to get down.

Spin The Wheel Links

ACOTAR Villains

TOG Villains

CC Villains

[heart-defendor]

City of Nightmares Part 4

Shes back baby!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Typical Acotar stuff, MDI

 Lounging on a chaise in her brother's chambers and watching as her brother Orian argued with one of their cousins about some inane topic. Drinking in one of the comfy salons of the family estate was a typical night for them, the arguing was typical too.She drew her legs up tucking them under her knees, enjoying the heat that came from the large silver and black marble fireplace.The chatter faded into the background. 

A week and a half had passed since she had last seen Azriel, that had been the night where he’d saved her .When in her drunken state awkwardly proposed he come again. She cringed internally. Y/n had even suggested he fly up and meet her on her balcony, which was totally unnecessary given he was just walking her home.  ANd he had stayed entertaining her drunken ramblings. 

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him again. The odds were so stacked against them, it would be smarter to avoid the heartbreak all together. 

Suddenly,she felt it, like a flower blooming within her chest. 

He’s here.

 The bond had come alive.  As strong as when it had first snapped, Azriel was close and had left his side of the bond wide open. 

She felt a gentle tug, he was calling to her. Yn sits up quickly, her heart beats wildly in her chest and all doubts are quickly forgotten. Fortunately the others are still too busy to notice the change. She steadies herself, doing her best to appear calm; she bids them goodnight before swiftly returning to her own chambers where she is sure she will find him. 

Mate, Mate 

She stops in front of her large oak door, he's on the other side she knows it. But Yn is rooted to the ground, her urgency is doused by waves of anxiety. She feels it pulling in her chest and all too soon realizes this isn't her fear, it's Azriels. He's worried about meeting her. Scared of how she will respond to him. It's the push she needs, her hand closes on the brass door knob and she steps into the room. 

The room is dark, but she finds him easily enough. Azriel is leaning threshold to her balcony, backlit from Hewns lights, his shadows swirl along the floor. He's trying to appear nonchalant but the bond betrays his nerves. 

Does he know I can feel him?

Yn gives him a small smile, and flicks her wrists illuminating the room in a soft glow. He gives her a small smile in return but does not move from his place against the door frame. 

"You don't have to be nervous, ill be nice I swear"

Immediately the anxiety in her chest vanishes as Azriel clamps down their connection. Azriel gives a soft grunt and looks to the floor, Yn can't help but find the gesture cute and lets out a giggle. She walks over to a small glass and metal cart against the wall that houses her favorite liquor, a whiskey from the Winter Court, along with an assortment of mixers. She can feel his golden eyes following her.

Picking up the bottle by the neck in one dainty manicured hand, she spins towards him and gives the bottle a small shake. 

"Is the sick up your ass still there or are you going to join me for a drink?"

Azriel snorts, but his posture loses its rigidity and his wings open slightly. This is what he must look like when actually relaxed, she thinks while unscrewing the cap. 

"I thought you said you were going to be nice”

"I am being nice," she grins while plopping down in her plush crimson armchair now with drink in hand. She snuggles into it with her knees crossed. "Besides it's only the truth, you and that general are always so rigid, standing about glaring at everyone. Do you two ever have fun? Perhaps it’s an Illyrian thing?”

Azriel shugs, finally leaving the threshold to grab the drink she prepared for him,“It’s our job to keep the High Lord and Lady safe”. He doesn't sit in the adjacent chair, instead making his way over to the foot of her bed. For his wings she realizes as he sits down and they spread out on either side of him. They are so large the ends hang off the sides. Powerful too, she remembered how they had launched him into the air with her in his arms. 

Her attention snaps back to his face. “As for Cassian, be thankful he isn't down here making a fool of himself. Did you know he destroyed an entire building in the Summer Court? If left unsupervised he’d probably bring down this whole damn mountain.”

Y/n chuckled, “Sounds like you are more of a babysitter for the High Lord and the general than you are a spymaster.”

Azriel smirked back at her, “some days it certainly feels like it.” 

The two talked late into the night. About Azriels family and the mischief they had gotten into over the years and all the places he had traveled as a part of his court duties. He told her about how the Inner Circle were his family, that Ryhsand and Cassian had become brothers. She learnt that her High Lord went by Rhys, and preferred to live in a townhouse for Cauldron's sake over the Moonstone Palace. He skirted around the topic of his birth family, when she asked. His eyes downcast and his gloved hands were tightened on his glass only mentioning that his father had left him at an Illyrian training camp at a young age.

The focus had quickly shifted to her own family. How her cousin Cole couldn’t flirt to save his life, of her friends that she frequently partied with. Though he already knew of him, Y/n had boasted about Orian who had climbed the Darkbringer ranks, working closely with her uncle. Azriel had shown surprise when she talked about her own training, how it was not uncommon for females in the Court of Nightmares to know how to defend themselves. “Although I am useless with a sword, I have never had use for one.” She had said, her voice filled with pride as she talked about the Umbra family’s strong Night Court magic.   

They had then discussed books and card games and all matters of random things that made them who they are. Conversation flowed like water between them. When the world fell away and it was just the two of them, safe in her chambers, it was to forget all the reasons they shouldn’t be together. The cord in her ribs grew stronger as her perceptions of him fell apart to see the sweet and kind soul underneath. 

At some point she joined him on the bed snuggling into the comforter, Azriel remained above the sheets but had settled beside her leaning against the headboard. Now she watched as Azriel’s wing that had been spread behind her tentatively curled around her body. Y/n watched the way the muscles and fibers moved beneath the membrane. She had thought them a deep gray but now she could tell they had a purplish tinge to them. They looked soft yet strong, she wondered what they would feel like beneath her fingers. Without thinking she reach out running her hand along the inside of a bone. They are soft.

Y/n heard a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes flicked over to Azriel, he was staring back, honey eyes now wide and dark, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink. 

“Do they please you?” 

Immediate denial of her fascination was on the tip of her tongue when something stopped her, Azriel was being vulnerable. She could be honest. Besides this was her mate, she was allowed to like him.

“They are beautiful," she admitted. He searched her face for something when appeased his own face broke out into a grin.  

“You should, know Illyrian wings are sensitive, don't start something you aren't ready to finish." His voice held both promise and challenge.

She wanted to rise to it, she meant to. Instead she yawned and Azriel laughed. Suddenly she was aware of how tired she was, her eyelids grew heavy.

"Perhaps next time princess, get some sleep its late."

She tried to protest but another yawn interrupted her. .Azriel smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and felt the bed shift as he got up.

As she drifted off surrounded by the sent of cedar and cool night air, she let herself be content. If only for the time being.

Tag list: @issybee0611 @emturtles @valeridarkness @marina468 @hollyismentallyillhelp @dumbbitchitis69

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind: Chapter Five

Read on AO3

What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Chapter 5: Feyre finds danger even in her old village. Good thing a mysterious stranger has come to town.

TW: this chapter has depictions of violence and the threat of sexual assault

Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads!

Chapter under the cut...

I didn’t take my sister’s advice, or heed my father’s tight look from across the room.

The large, open ballroom was sweltering and thick with the smell of cigars, of bodies and ale. My head was still spinning, and I stumbled a bit as I grasped at a glass of wine as it rushed past me on a servant’s tray. White and sparkling, this time. Red now made my stomach sour.

This room, with its gleaming marble floors, sweeping embroidered drapes, and blazing bronze chandelier, was grander than anything I could remember even from my mother’s lavish parties. But the drunken revelries and laughter, the smell of sick and sweat, the loud cacophonous noise - it reminded me of the run-down tavern. Everyone might put on airs and shine their shoes here, but when the wine poured they were all the same.

But even with more wine, bubbles tickling my nose, I still felt…uneasy.

Stumbling across the dance floor, I hugged corners as much as my dizzy feet would allow, brushing past hard shoulders and spinning skirts.

I didn’t realize I was following the smells of cooking until I found myself in the loud kitchen. I wandered through, grabbing a chicken wing as I continued my loose dance around chefs and servants. My belly had been stuffed hours ago, to the point of pain really, but I couldn’t stop myself from shoving more fine food down my mouth at every turn.

Weaving and twirling, I managed somehow to avoid the hot pans and precariously balanced trays.

A cold wind called to me again, the heat of the kitchen banked by the bluster of powdery snow outside an open door. My cheeks were hot and I tossed away the chicken bone as I stepped outside, the back of the grand manor facing a dark forest beyond the edges of the village. I licked the juices and the unfamiliar, delicate spices off my fingers, now shiny with grease, as I let the cold air cool my cheeks.

I wondered if I’d have to get used to it now - these parties, the stares, the pinched manners and the loud cluster of bodies and sound.

The smell of the clean cold of the forest was welcome. The vastness of the night overhead, and the beauty of the sparkling diamonds set therein. I tilted my head back to drink it in, to let the cold kiss of night air caress my skin.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous fae-killer,” a cocky voice called out from just beyond the little yard.

I whipped my head around, too fast, and the earth spun under my feet.

Panic gripped my throat as I blinked to focus my eyes, arms whirling to regain my balance.

Five figures - huddled around something, bony and lanky. A bottle passed between them. And in the back - I spotted Charles, shorter by a head, pouting and glowering in the shadows.

Young men from the village. Clothes fine but untucked, mussed free, eyes glossy. The sharp glint of teeth and low, secret laughter.

Every hair on my body stood up.

Sober up I yelled at myself in my head, and whirled as quickly as I could back towards the kitchen entrance.

Slam - the door shutting echoed through the trees, into my bones. Another grinning boy stood triumphant with his palm splayed over the door, standing between me and escape.

Every instinct was screaming at me as I tumbled again, my good hand barely catching against the stones of the house. My axis lost completely, nothing left of my honed hunter’s senses.

Now it was laughter, cruel and loud, echoing through the trees.

“Looks like the wild beast of the forest can’t hold her liquor,” one of them sneered.

“Cut it out,” Charles whined.

Panic was pulsing through my veins, slowly bringing me back to my senses. Bodies broke away from their group in the shadows. Stalking me, slow and unhurried. Cutting off my exits.

More laughter as they watched my eyes dart between them. Details slowly coming into shape, dark eyes and drunken smiles and too-white teeth.

“Look at her! She can’t even stay clean one day. You should throw her back into the woods, Charlie.”

Only he remained back, the others moving to circle me, a pack closing in.

“I bet she fucked the beast, and cut its throat while it was sleeping.” Rage ignited, a deafening roar in my ears. “She looks filthy enough. Maybe you should get separate bedrooms, Charles. She might have fleas.”

Charles looked away, cheeks heated.

He clearly wasn’t the leader of this pack of mongrels.

No, that would be the tallest of them, a golden-haired boy with a crooked nose and cruel brown eyes. He stood before me, eyes roving over me with a leer on his face.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I cursed this damned dress, and my father with it. He had refused to let me strap my hunting knife onto my waist. The one at my ankle now was barely a sharp dinner knife, snuck from the kitchens when we arrived.

“It’s a shame you didn’t get one of her sisters. At least they’re a bit pretty for poor trash.”

Was the door locked behind me? Any space between us was closing quickly. If I screamed and banged on the door loud enough, if anyone from the party would just hear me -

“Maybe she’s a good fuck,” the leader said, approaching me like a hungry dog. “Maybe we should find out for Charles, before he’s trapped with her in his bed forever.”

A scuff of snow and a grunt from my chest and in a breath, I had closed the distance between us, pulling the knife from my boot. It scraped against the baby hair stubble on his neck. The blade bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

Adrenaline seared through my veins, cutting through my drunken haze. On the edge of my vision, the world still blurred, but I fixed my eyes, wide and fierce upon the boy in front of me.

The other boys jeered and laughed, clearly not intimidated. “Charlie, your wife has claws!”

Mr. Crooked Nose felt different. He froze in position, his back bent at an odd angle to keep from leaning further into the knife.

“I’m nobody’s wife,” I said. Steadier than I felt. Though I was outnumbered, the face in front of me was pale as ash.

He tried to pull away from me but I pushed the knife harder against skin, following his half-step. “I’ve skewered a boar larger than you. I stripped his hide for a coat and carved up his meat for stew.” A single drop of blood dripped down his throat. “Would you like a demonstration?”

But one girl against five was never good odds.

The boy stumbled backward, falling away from my knife. A stinging slap against my face threw me into shock, enough that the knife clattered out of my hands.

In an instant, hands were all over me, grabbing and wrenching and pulling. Strong arms banded around my waist and lifted me into the air. I reared up, kicking my heels into the air and into whatever they could connect with. Skirts flying, screams tearing from deep inside. Until it wasn’t a scream but a roar, shredding and burning my throat as it escaped me.

A beast indeed.

For just a moment, as I thrashed, I met Charles’ wide eyes from across the yard. Something like guilt inside them.

When our gazes locked, he looked away.

Of course, I thought. Of course I’m all alone. Alone and surrounded by monsters yet again.

I was biting and kicking and raging. Filthy hands clamped over my mouth. Hands gripped to bruise around my arms, the hold like iron. A fist to my gut knocking the air out of me and I fell to my knees. And I screamed again, this time like an animal trapped, as someone crushed my left hand in their fist.

I heard bones pop and break.

The adrenaline was waning, my body beaten and I winced, expecting another blow.

But just like that, it was over.

Rough hands lifted off of me. Boots crunched in the snow as they stepped away.

I quickly stumbled to my feet, still gasping for air.

When I finally looked around, I didn’t know what to think.

The boy’s backs were to me, bodies rigid and still, looking towards the copse of trees behind the manor. Still as a pack sizing up a threat.

Wild, old forests. Blanketed in shadow. Trunks groaning in the wintry wind.

Whispers amongst them, “Did you hear that?”

And there stood a man.

At least, I thought it was a man.

The word didn’t seem quite right.

One moment there was nothing, and then he was there.

He was tall and lithe, with powerful shoulders noticeable even in his fine suit. And it was fine, black as the night and woven with designs in glistening silver thread. Epaulets at his shoulder held a long cape that billowed behind him in the wind.

Nothing else about his person moved. He was so still I didn’t know how the boys had even spotted him first. Not even his chest moved, as if he weren’t breathing at all.

Through the stillness, though, there was the threat of violence. It ebbed off of him like smoke, like shadow.

I realized then that the boys weren’t the wolves.

The boys were the rabbits.

Here was the wolf. Here was the lion.

If I thought before that my instincts were screaming, now they were a desperate growing hum throughout my body. Run, they screamed. Danger. Death.

The boy, the leader, tried to stand straighter. Tried to pretend his hands weren’t shaking.

The man, if that’s what he was, took a stepforward. Casually, he slipped his hands into the pocket of his trousers. Odd for how normal a gesture it was. Even from afar, his face was sharp and beautiful, a light frown that was almost…bored.

The shadows seemed to retreat back into the trees behind him as if released from his call. Moonlight danced over the circles and whorls of silver embroidery, over the gleaming blue-black of his hair.

Collectively, the boys took a step back.

“We’re just having a bit of fun here. No need to get bent out of shape over a girl,” Crooked Nose said. His shaking voice betrayed his courage.

The man stopped again. He cocked his head to the side, an almost animalistic movement. As if he were sniffing the air.

Scenting the fear.

At once Crooked Nose went still, his eyes glazing over.

In a blink he was back. As if returning into his body, eyes wide and wild. Feet tripped over one another and he stumbled back a step, scrambling to his feet.

Without a sound, he ran. The others waited only a moment until they realized they were leaderless and followed.

Now, we were alone.

I should have turned and run with them. I should have been more afraid.

But as he stalked closer, my eyes drifted to his face. To a powerful aquiline nose, deep blue eyes that almost glowed.

All I could think was, beautiful.

A flash in my mind - stories from my nursemaid, about beings so beautiful their prey walked right into their open waiting mouths. About humans so overcome with enchantments they bowed before being devoured.

A man indeed.

He took several long strides towards me, the distance being eaten up quickly.

Though he was beautiful, though he had saved me, the thought crossed my mind: am I the mouse?

Stepping into the light of the lanterns of the house, I saw his lips twitch. As though I had said the words out loud.

Although I was afraid, my feet were rooted to the ground. My neck tilted up to watch his approach, eyes irrevocably locked on his form.

But as he got close, he slowed. As if I was a wild beast to keep from bolting. And in a smooth motion he bent at the waist and picked up my knife, glinting in the snow.

I didn’t even have a moment for fear before he had flipped it, standing in front of me, offering the handle.

I looked back up into his eyes.

They were dark blue - almost violet. I could have sworn that stars swirled in them.

Still drunk.

I should thank him. I should say something, or at least curtsy or…something. But my tongue was heavy in my mouth.

Slowly, I reached out my hand to the hilt of the knife. The iron was cold against my hand. A stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers, brushing under mine.

For the first time I saw him breathe. His chest expanded as his lips parted. Glistening eyes widened and he looked at me with surprise. As if I were the mystery.

None of the boys in our village had ever caught my eye. Oh, occasionally my eyes would wander when we crossed someone splitting wood or hauling hay without their shirts, taut muscles gleaming with sweat.

But they were harsh boys, skinny with hunger, and they usually ignored us completely or sneered and whistled as we walked by. There was little that was beautiful in our small scrap of land south of the wall.

But this man…

I felt lost in his eyes. Frozen under his stare. A lock of errant hair slipped over his brow as he moved closer, towering over me.

A strange, new part of me longed to brush it away from his face. I felt a blush steal over me, across my cheeks and down my neck. I realized how frazzled I must look - beaten and bruised, hair unkempt, dress ripped and stained.

The corner of his mouth turned up again, the slightest hint of a smile.

A broad hand reached out to me, slowly, and then paused. When I didn’t run, he continued.

His skin was warm as his palm cupped my skin, covering my jaw, fingers brushing over my neck. Stars were swirling again in his eyes. I felt the brush of his thumb over my cheek, and everywhere we touched my skin tingled and heated.

My mouth was open, breaths shallow, but I still couldn’t form the words. Who are you? Why did you help me?

Why are you looking at me like that?

He hadn’t spoken a single word.

Was I locked in some sort of spell?

A loud slam from behind us and my whole body jolted. A serving woman stepped outside the kitchen into the yard, tossing a bag of trash with a clunk.

By the time I turned back, he was gone. Only a cold emptiness where his hand had rested on my skin, moments before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Perhaps there were still some gods left to help, because Elain was the one who found me first.

I watched the pleasant flush on her face quickly pale as she spotted me in the ballroom, stumbling and disheveled. My sister paused only a moment before she was on me, grabbing my shoulders, watching the room, and hustling me off to an empty washroom up the ornate stairwell.

“What if I just…ran away?” I said aloud. Elain found a brush and came over to me with a bowl of cold water for my face.

A wrung washcloth, cool and soothing on my heated skin. “And lived where, in the woods? Forever?” She asked softly.

“I could hunt. I could find another village far away where nobody knew who I was.”

My sister gripped my hair, starting the brush at the ends to pull out the snarls and tangles.

“What about your hand?”

I looked at my gnarled appendage, shattered and bent. The bandages were torn and dirty, my fingers twisted unnaturally.

With my hair now in a loose braid, Elain began dabbing at the worst of the stains on my dress. I didn’t hold out much hope, but then again, Elain had a tendency to make everything around her beautiful. Maybe I would be the one blessed this time.

“Is he really so bad?” Elain asked.

Behind my eyelids I saw a face, guilty and scared. Turning away, as I fought and screamed like an animal.

“Make sure you’re not alone when we’re staying here. If I’m not around, stay with Nesta or father, okay?”

Elain was silent for a moment as she dabbed at my dress. “Who did this to you?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “It won’t happen again.”

Elain sighed, returning to wipe the last dirt off of my hot, cold-chapped face.

“Feyre,” she said with a gasp.

“What?”

“Your scar. On your cheek. It’s…gone.”

We both turned towards the mirror, bringing the lone flickering candle close.

It made the shadows behind us grow and dance. I brushed my fingers over my cheekbone, the skin smooth and clear, without a single mark.

Remembered the heat on my skin.

“I guess it healed at last.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Elain had tucked the errant threads from my torn collar into my dress, had wrapped her beautiful floral shawl around my waist to cover the worst of the stains. I walked down the stairs with her, arm in arm.

Elain had worked miracles. But given the rowdy state of the party below, I wasn’t sure how much it truly mattered on this night.

And despite Nesta’s words, and my father’s wishes, I had no desire left to impress anyone in this room.

The roar and heat of the room rose up again to greet us. The booming laughter and the clink of glass shook my bones.

My sister sensed my hesitation, always aware. My elbow in her gentle hand, she led me down to rejoin the festivities.

The band was in full swing, violins and fiddles and drums filling the air and sparking the crowd to dance.

With the deep and heavy night fully situated, most of the party seemed to be as deep in the wine as I was, faces red and ruddy, the dance less than elegant.

“Wait here. I’ll get you some water. And no more wine,” Elain said with a gentle chide in her voice.

I nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to argue.

While Elain slipped away, I scanned the crowd.

If I were to stay here, if I was actually forced to marry Charles, I knew the boys wouldn’t give up so easily. A vicious pack like that wouldn’t forget the slight of losing their conquest, of letting a doe slip away.

My mind was racing with the possibilities.

If I had time and freedom to wander the town freely, I could get them one by one.

Figure them out, decide whether I needed violence or merely threats. Individually, I could handle them. I wouldn’t be their prey. And I knew small cuts could be enough to make my point. Slices to the back of the ankles to keep them off their feet. Bleeding them from the neck or head to disorient them quickly. And if I had to, a carefully placed slice along the back, to take out their legs entirely.

Yes, without the mysterious stranger to interrupt, without his shimmering violence keeping them at bay, they would be back for me the next chance they got.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, he appeared.

The man in black stood in the doorway, the dark outside around his shoulders like a cloak.

He was just as stunning as he had been in the dark. Perhaps moreso in this room filled with drooping flush faces, his black outfit a contrast to the merry colors of skirts and cravats.

Dark eyes scanned the crowd for only a moment until they found me. When they bored into mine, all the sounds of the party faded away.

Again it was though I was in a trance, under a spell. My sister forgotten, I stepped through dancers and pushed past bodies, some inescapable tug pulling me towards him.

Presence overwhelming, he stood at the doorway, darkness hardly ebbing. It was as if he pushed away the chaos of the room, his own aura of beautiful intensity creating space, like a shield around his body.

With a breath, I crossed the threshold.

At once the smells of grease and wine and bodies disappeared, replaced by the clean, cold scents of winter - salt and citrus and the chill outside still clinging to his jacket.

The most curious thing was the way he looked at me. My eyes had locked to his from the moment he entered - I was trapped in them. The strange thing was that he looked at me the same - with surprise, with reverence.

Like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t a filthy girl gnawing at her chains.

All I wanted to do was touch him.

His head cocked to the side. Eyes raked up and down my body, shameless. Possessive. I shuddered.

He hadn’t yet spoken a single word.

Neither had I. I knew I should be polite, introduce myself. Ask one of my thousand questions buzzing somewhere in the back of my brain.

But here, in this little cocoon of just the two of us, I was loath to break the spell.

If I opened my mouth, he might stop looking at me with that intense gaze - would quickly find that the brave killer of fae was just a poor girl, angry and uncouth.

Somewhere far away, applause broke out, then first notes of a new song hummed over our heads.

As the first strong note of a violin traveled across the crowd, he grabbed my hand in his and pulled me to the dance floor.

I stumbled only a moment. His hand was warm, not soft but calloused, a strange contrast to his refined form.

Beside us, couples were pairing off, lining up, and pulled away from his hypnotic gaze, I realized I had been caught again.

For a moment, I seized in fear.

I didn’t know how to dance. Mother was just beginning to turn to my education before she passed.

But my eyes couldn’t look away from his solid form, the dark tunic soaking up the light, mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

He bowed deeply before me, elegant and graceful. My head tilted up to his as he stood and stepped closer to me, and I could only tear my eyes away from his to watch his hand take my own, the other wrapping around my waist.

His hand on me was warm and broad. I felt the heat of it through my dress. Wondered, unbidden, how it would feel on my skin, with nothing in between us.

I breathed into my nervousness as the music began and he gripped me tighter. As our feet danced, his hand moved from my waist to the small of my back to guide me, fingers skimming over the small buttons of my dress.

I knew I was awkward, my legs moving too slow and getting in the way. But I looked to his eyes and got lost - and I swear I was right, I did see stars - and the more I relaxed into him the easier the movements came to me.

He glided us across the floor through spins and steps and wove us gracefully between flaring skirts and flying elbows. I felt weightless, like I was floating through the sky on wings, his hands the only thing anchoring me to the earth.

We spun in circles, my body gently reeled out by my arm and twisting back into his embrace. We circled one another, his legs brushing against the back of my skirts, to come back face to face and place hands palm to palm. I hadn’t realized, before, how a dance was a song between two people - a call and an answer. He held me to him, my body breathless and light.

When our bodies came together again, he slid his hand low from my hip to my waist, the movement slow and possessive, and I felt the jolt of where we touched through my entire body.

His face was beautiful, chiseled like a statue of gods of old, a smile on his mouth, lips parted and inviting. I didn’t know what was coming over me, what had my insides igniting.

The violins reached a crescendo, laughter was all around us, and he dipped me backwards, hands splaying wide across my back.

And strangely - I found myself letting go. Letting my back arch and my head tip towards the ground as he held me aloft. I felt light. I felt held.

When he pulled me back to him, our bodies were grasped so closely together the breath was crushed from my lungs.

That huff of breath stirred his hair, the only part of him lightly unkempt, and though the music and spinning couples continued around us, we were both still in each other’s arms.

I couldn’t move, didn’t want to, while the heat of our bodies mingled together. His form against mine was hard and taut, and I longed to run my hands over it to find the softness, to trace every dip and groove of muscles and joints with my fingertips.

The hand I had on his shoulder wandered towards his neck, but my eyes caught on the dirty bandages and I faltered.

But there must have been no distance between our thoughts, because he turned his head to the side to see my broken hand, poorly wrapped, resting on his shoulder. I took a deep breath, worried I was going to have to break this moment, this spell, by telling a story of blood and murder in the woods.

Instead he lifted a hand off of my waist, lifting my hand at the wrist. And softly pressed my fingers to his lips.

Around us, in another world, the band expended its final note and applause erupted around us.

Terror gripped me, then, where before there had only been blooming heat.

The song was done, and now he would leave, and I would no longer be in his arms.

I had never dreamed of a man, had never thought of one as either a partner to be sought or a viable escape. Had never been able to rely on any else, really.

But I thought for a moment that if I stayed here, next to him, I could walk away from this now absurd world of hunting and hunger and drab cottages and fall into his, one that must be exciting and mysterious and wonderful to hold a creature such as him.

Clasping my broken hand gently against his chest, the other still warming my back, his lips turned downward into a slight frown. Perhaps he felt the seconds ticking away as well, the inevitable parting.

I needed something from him - anything. A name, a title, a single word of explanation as to what was happening between us with our bodies so close. Something to prove this wasn’t a drunken dream.

I opened my mouth to speak.

“Feyre!”

Around us, voices began crying out - calling, chanting my name, as the band broke into a boisterous melody.

I turned out of reflex, feeling too late the warmth of him seeping away, his hands leaving my body. And as I turned back I only heard I’m sorry in a whisper, in a voice so soft I wasn’t sure if his lips were at my ear or his voice was in my head.

Sorry? Sorry for what?

The crowd was crying out for me, chanting “Feyre!” now, led by my father, still wearing the cloak of fur from the beast like a king. He was joined by the mayor, drunk and jolly, and the rest of the crowd rushed in around me.

My body locked up as they lifted me, up over heads and onto a wooden armchair held aloft on the shoulders of four men. It was wooden and ornate, bedecked in waxy winter bows and bright berries. In his hand, the mayor held a crown woven from dried holly, the gaps filled with yellowing roses.

Feyre! Hero! Fae-killer! the crowd yelled. I held onto the arm of the chair for dear life as I was rocked and carried over the crowd as if floating on a raucous wave.

I managed to turn just once. Wishing to find his face, and knowing deep down I would not. My eyes scanned the crowd for his dark raven hair, for his luminous presence, but found no trace of him - as if he had disappeared into the ether.

Just like everything beautiful and lovely. My heart sank deep into my chest as the crowd pulled me towards the wide entry doors.

Glimpses were all I ever got, the slightest spark in my chest of something good - warm, happy, beautiful. And then they were gone. Like the shooting stars I sometimes saw in the forest, blazing bright and then sizzling into nothing, my eyes the only witness to their short-lived glory.

I rocked on the chair as we emerged out of the doors and onto the open town square. Cold air brought me back to the earth, to my own body and away from my dark thoughts.

A bonfire was burning, bright and hot, and the crowd circled once. I worried for a moment they were going to toss me on it like some sort of offering. But instead I was placed in front of the fire, my body jostling until I found my feet and sat up.

All eyes were on me. All the hands reaching. I felt like a rabbit in a trap, about to lose its skin.

The band followed us out, cheers and the sound of strings and drums, and people began dancing. Some drank, some reveled, some sang. The sound traveled far and wide into the cold winter night.

My eyes followed the dancing flames, the embers jumping higher and swallowed whole. My head followed them, tilting further and further up and I exhaled, a puff of mist, all my thoughts and worries carried aloft into the dark triumphant solstice night.

Read on AO3

[azsazz]

Starfall

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anonymous request: omg can i just say i love your blog sm!! you are carrying the acotar fandom in this app 😭😭 i wanted to request a fic where az and reader are having like a romantic moment where they are dancing in their kitchen and maybe the inner circle sees them and they’re just so happy for them.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 612

_________________________________________

“What are you doing all alone in here?” a voice startles you. Spinning around on your heel, your face softens when you see your mate standing in the doorway. It was one of the best nights of the year. Rhysand always threw the most beautiful parties for Starfall, great food, expensive wine, and the most talented musicians playing at the House of Wind for all of his friends and family. 

You left your mate on the dancefloor with Cassian and Mor, reassuring him that you’d be back in no time, you just wanted to cool down for a moment and refill your drink. Azriel looked reluctant to let you leave and you thought he might follow you inside the house, but you assured him you would be back in no time. 

Walking into the house with a loving grin, thinking about how lucky you are to have found your mate. He was so considerate, passionate, and loving. He really was your everything. You hadn’t even known what your life had been missing until the night the bond made itself known. 

You couldn’t imagine your life without him.

Sipping from your newly refilled glass, you leaned against the counter, reflecting on your life with your mate. His friends had welcomed you with open arms and wide grins, so excited that the Shadowsinger had finally found his other half. 

You seemed to fit right into the group like a piece to their evergrowing puzzle of family. You and Cassian were thick of thieves since the first night he’d brought you home, the Warlord pulling you aside to tell you everything about Az. He highlighted the Spymaster’s entire life, his likes, dislikes, embarrassing moments, he even told you his tells when fighting, where to strike if you wanted a training session to end early. Azriel had watched you with a fond look in his eyes. 

“Just thinking,” you respond softly, setting your glass down on the counter and opening your arms for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and yours clasp around his neck as you stare lovingly into those glowing hazel eyes. 

“About what?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and stroking his thumb soothingly across your soft cheek. 

You shrug, smiling from cheek to cheek, “You.”

“Yeah?” his brows quirk.

You hum in confirmation, closing your eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“All good, I hope.”

You release a breathy laugh as he starts to sway the two of you slowly. “All amazing, as are you.”

He pecks you on the nose, sweeping you under his arm, twirling you around abruptly and then back into his chest. He surprises you with a kiss on the nose, continuing your dance around the kitchen. “Ah, that’s you, my love.” 

The both of you are unaware of the audience you have. Mor had gone in to snag a new bottle of wine and had seen the two of you in a loving embrace. She was a bit nosy at the worst of times, but seeing her friend for so long so in love, it made her heart swell. Somehow, without even the Spymaster knowing, she had gathered the rest of the Inner Circle, squealing about how cute the two of you were being in the kitchen. 

Azriel was distracted by your beauty, the love of his life looking back at him like he was her universe. Those pesky shadows were nowhere to be seen. He wanted, just for a minute, to be alone with his thoughts, with you, and he was completely unaware that his family were watching with wide smiles and misty eyes.

Yeah, everything was perfect.

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

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Blurbs-

Kissing in the street 7.29.22 | 810 words.

One shots-

Best friend H.H 🔥(smut) 18+ |6.9.21| 2.3kwords |Friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) your best friend shows up and has a hard time hiding the way he feels about you in THAT outfit.

Burnt to a crisp H.H 🔥(Smut) 18+ |6.8.21| 1.4kwords |friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) a boating trip with some friends leaves your skin feeling crisp, asking Harry for relief, but you find it in other ways.

Its been you H.H❤️ (Fluff) |6.12.21| 2.5kwords |idiots to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) you though it was just casual for him, when the whole time he was thinking the same for you.

Next door neighbor H.H 🔥 (smut) 18+ |6.18.21| 2.4kwords | neighbor Harry (HarryHollandxReader) you invite your neighbor over to talk about his problems, when the conversation gets veered in a different direction and things get heated.

First H.H ❤️ (Fluff) |6.24.21| 1kwords |boyfriend Harry (HarryHollandxReader) after a long day with your boyfriend's family your ready to relax, but you think you hear something that has your heart fluttering out of your chest.

Dreams H.H 🔥(Smut) 18+ |6.30.21| 4kwords |ex's to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) you think you must be dreaming when you see his face like all the times before, but with the ding of your phone and the message you see you know it's real.

Never have i ever H.H💛 (Suggestive, but floof) |7.2.21| 1.8kwords | best friends brother (HarryHollandxReader) A simple game has your feelings revealed as your two idiot best friends push you to admit them.

Spin the bottle H.H 💛 (Suggestive, but floof)7.8.21| 1.2kwords | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) youve dreamt of the oprotuity, but the real thing is even better.

To The Ends Of The Earth ❤️ (Fluff) |7.10.21| 1.5kwords | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) leaving your best friend who your in love with behind is hard, so you do the logical thing. Kiss him and leave him stunned.

Sleep talk 🔥(Smut) 18+ |7.13.21| 4kwords | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) a road trip, falling asleep, and a wet dream, what could be worse... Or better?

Feelings Untold 🔥 (Smut) 18+ |7.23.21| 1.5kwords |friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) she gave him an ultimatum and he chose you, because it'll always be you.

Birthday 🎉(fluff) 8.11.21| 2.7kwords | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) you share a birthday with your best friend, and at 23 feeling are finally revealed after years.

Prove it 🔥 (smut) 18+ |8.12.21| 3.4kwords | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) a simple conversation leads to your fantasy being fulfilled.

The lighthouse that guided me 🔥 (smut) 18+ |8.22.21| 9.9kwords | best friends brother (HarryHollandxReader) Sam knew you and Harry were going to hit it off, so he mad you promise you wouldnt fall for the curly haired twin.. easier said than done.

Fallout of the century *re-edited version* 🔥 (angst, smut, fluf) 18+ |8.29.21 | 18.5K words| Ex’s to Lovers (HarryHollandxReader) After your world falls apart, will you be able to pick up the pieces, or will you be left crumbling like the walls around you?

Anger Issues 🔥 (smut) 18+ |9.10.21 | 2.6k | secret lovers (HarryHollandxReader) pushing Harry's buttons is your favorite game.

In it for you ❤️ (fluff) |9.15.21|1.8k| idiots to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) tom can't keep his mouth shut and blabs your secret to the one person who wasn't supposed to know... Harry.

Home for the holidays 🔥 (smut/fluff) 18+ |10.16.2021| 3k | friends to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) you left for school, and the reality of yours and Harry's unspoken feelings caught up with you.

After the fall 🔥 (smut) 18+ |10.22.2021| 4.7k | apocalyptic fic (HarryHollandxReader) months after the start of the end of the world you give into the feelings you have towards the stranger turned friend who saved you.

Table 3 🔥(smut) 18+| 12.10.21 | 3.4k | ex's to lovers (HarryHollandxReader) Sam's fiance likes to meddle and she doesn't think you and Harry should have broken up.

Just get naked 🔥 (smut) 18+| 1.28.22 | 3k | friends to lovers (HarryHollandXReader) a trip to a "big" cabin has you and Harry stuffed in a room together.

Two shot-

pinky promise 💕🔥 (Angst, fluff, smut) 18+ |8.3.21| 10kwords |Dad!harry (HarryHollandxReader) nearly ten years has past since the last time you saw Harry and you have been hiding a secret... Or two.

Everything and more (pt 2 to Pinky promise) 💕 (Angst, fluff) 8.27.21 | 3.8K words | Dad!Harry (HarryHollandxReader) Complications lead to panic.

Series -

Fallout of the century. 18+ (completed)

Broken hearts, second chances, and falling apart. Can you forgive and forget? Or do you just need to move on?

Part 1🥜 6.10.21

Part 2🥜  6.15.21

Part 3 🥜 6.22.21

Part 4🥜 6.29.21

Part 5🥜  7.6.21

In this together 18+

(on hiatus)

A broken heart. A newfound hope. A drunk night. And a bright pink plus sign.

Series Masterlist

Blackout 18+

A crush on the curly haired boy that goes to the laundromat the same time as you, a storm that cuts off the power and leads you to spend the next few days together. Then radio silence. Untill your ex Harrison shows up and beggs you to be his plus one to a destination wedding. Little did you know the groom. The curly haired boys twin.

Series Masterlist

The Bet (mini series) 18+

(on hiatus)

Series Masterlist

➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿

Blurbs-

Drunk blurb 18+ 9.4.21

Sick days 10.12.21

Harry X Harrison

Our secret 🔥 (smut) |18+| word count 6.4k | (1.7.21) (HarrisonOsterfeildXHarryHollandXReader) pure filth threesome fic... That's it.

Harrison Osterfeild 💛

One shots-

Empty Mugs and Unexpected Hugs 🔥(Smut) 18+ |7.26.21| 3.3kwords | enemies to lovers (harrisonOsterfeildxReader) Harrison can't get anymore annoying, untill he goes and pulls on your heart sting's

Should be me ❤️ (fluff) |8.14.21| 1.3k words | jealous Harrison (harrisonOsterfeildxReader) Harrison won't admit his feelings so you do it first.

Why not have the real thing? 🔥 (Smut) 18+ |9.2.21| 2.6kwords| roommate Harrison (harrisonOsterfeildxReader) reading about your roommate while getting off? Recipe for disaster... Or maybe not?

Fuck the rules 🔥 (smut) 18+ |12.23.21| 2kwords| FWB Harrison (HarrisonOsterfeildXReader) a friendly agreement of sex turns to more.

Tom Holland 💛

One shots-

I’ll be here to fix you ⛈️ (Angst to fluff) 7.31.21| 1.8kwords | friends to lovers (TomHollandxReader) a fight, a night in jail, and a confession.

Second chances and Unspoken promises 🔥 (Smut) 18+ |9.26.21 | 7.2k words| ex’s to lovers (TomHollandxReader) three years after the fall of your secret relationship, and a journey back to where it all started, you could be leaving even more broken hearted, or maybe the stars will align and it will be your time.

Blurbs-

Kissing scene 💕 (Fluff) 7.27.21

Bad for business ❌ (Angst) 8.5.21

Sex on the front door 🔥 (smut) 18+ 8.31.21

Holland and co 💛

Series-

Home again. *on hiatus*

Teaser 🏠 7.11.21

part 1 🧡 7.17.21

[illyrian-dreamer]

ACOTAR Masterlist

GIF by kennedy1917sworld

*(Indicates smut)

Azriel:

Changing Shadows (complete series):

Summary: You have a new role in the Inner Circle — Heard Guard of Velaris. And as Rhys’s younger sister, you feel you have a lot to prove. 

You and the Shadowsinger are also growing closer, and tension builds as your relationship changes from friendship to something else...

How will you juggle your feelings for Azriel and the dangers that come with your new role, without disappointing the rest of the Inner Circle and the Night Court?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7* | Part 8 | Part 9* | Part 10 | Part 11* | Part 12* | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15* | Part 16* | Part 17* | Part 18* | Part 19* | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23* | Part 24 - Finale

Overwritten (complete series)

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 - Finale

And Then There Were None

Summary: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 1 | Part 2

One shots:

A Shadowsinger’s intuition

Feel too much

Confessions at Starfall

Stay with me

Spin the bottle

In the arms of understanding*

Drabble:

Salad (fluff)

Cassian:

One shots:

Tides and turmoil

With benefits*

Remnants of a star

Azriel and Cassian:

Our Girl (series)

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4* | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Rhys:

Series

Dance with the devil

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Part 1 |

One shots:

Two lessons in one*

Make a bargain with me

Bat boys:

Drabble:

Bat boys react to being called ‘bro’*

Brat taming bat boys *

Lucien: 

Frozen Flames (series)

Summary: After fifty years trapped Under the Mountain, you struggle to adjust to your new found freedom as Kallias’s third-in-charge to the Winter Court.

In an unlikely circumstance, you meet Lucien Vanserra.

As you and Lucien grow closer, dealing with the loss of your mother and trauma from Amarantha’s reign proves harder than you thought. How will you start to trust and love again?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7 | Part 8

Eris

One shots:

Conditions of entry*

Comment to join the tag list :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sarah J Maas, not my own.

[aelin-and-feyre]

Spin the Bottle

Requested by @rowanismybae 99: “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.” 

Elriel - modern au

High school basement parties. 'How disgusting,' Azriel thinks, glancing around at the throng of teenagers grinding and singing at the top of their lungs by the shitty stereo, the half dozen people making out on various couches, and the messy floor with beer bottles and various stains now scattered across it. Absolutely disgusting.

He's gonna yell at Cassian for dragging him here under the pretense of being his wingman. He didn't do anything but apparently his job is done because Nesta is now sitting atop Cassian's lap, making out with him in the corner. Azriel wrinkles his nose at the sight.

Az nurses his own drink silently in the corner, brooding. Elain sings with Feyre in the middle of the mess of people and Az has to restrain himself from seeking her out with his eyes every few seconds. A couple songs pass and he watches as a group breaks off from the dancing, rushing to the box of beer and cheering as one of the guys chugs a bottle.

When it's empty, they all sit down on the ground in a circle and Azriel thinks that a seance is about to take place. He isn't too far off when Elain, who is part of the group, calls over to him. "Hey, Az! Come play spin the bottle with us!" She giggles and hiccups, going so far as to stand up and walk over to his corner. She grabs his hand and tries to pull him up. A couple of his other friends try to wave him over as well.

Azriel knows that he'll just end up getting embarrassed if he plays the game, and he would really not like to watch his classmates make out anymore than he already has. "I don't think I've ever played spin the bottle." He tries. "I think I would probably break the rules somehow."

Elain laughs, making goosebumps rise on Azriel's arm. "Oh, it's easy, you just kiss the person who the bottle is pointing at after you spin." She gives his arm another tug.

Azriel pretends to think about it for a few seconds, then shakes his head. "No, thanks, Elain." Her face falls. "Maybe later." He adds just to make her sad expression disappear.

Elain nods, let's go of his hand, and walks back over to the circle, plopping down next to Feyre. Azriel succeeds in not watching the game go on for a while thankfully, playing games on his phone and focusing on other things. It's only when he hears Nesta exclaim, "Oooh, Elain!" that he looks over.

Turns out, Graysen had spun the bottle so that it was now pointing squarely at Elain. Azriel is unable to look away as Graysen smirks, getting up on his knees and leaning over the circle to place a sweet kiss on Elain's lips. Azriel feels his blood positively boil as they draw apart and Graysen smirks at her. Elain's responding blush just makes it worse.

Without really thinking it through first, Azriel stands up and walks over to the circle, sitting down next to Elain and causing all the eyes of the participants to turn to him. "I'm playing now." He states, looking everyone in the eye as if daring them to object.

Cassian and Rhys' eyes sparkle with mischief but Elain practically beams. "Fantastic, it's my turn, just so you know." She says and he simply nods, prompting her to go.

Biting her lip, Elain leans forward, firmly grasps the bottle, and spins it fiercely. After years of playing this game, Cassian and Rhys are pretty good at manipulating the odds and so at just the right time, Cassian's foot juts out and stops the bottle right as it point to Azriel. Guess he was the wingman after all.

A couple people gasp around the circle and look accusingly at Cassian who just shrugs. "Sorry, my foot slipped."

Before Elain can even consider spinning again though, Feyre speaks. "Azriel, you kiss Elain now." She gently reminds, nudging him in the side.

Azriel turns to Elain, a burst of confidence coursing through him. "Oh, well look at that."

"Look at that." Elain echoes, wide eyes locked with his.

Not wanting to lose his nerve, Azriel leans forward, cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand and kisses her soundly. Elain melts into the kiss and they don't break away for a good few seconds. The circle whoops and laughs but Azriel is still just staring at her, stunned into silence.

Elain smiles shyly, her entire face bright red. "Um, it's your turn, Az." She whispers. Without looking away from her, Azriel removes his hand from her face, going to the bottle, and turns it an inch so that it lands on her. "Th-that's agains the rules."

Azriel smirks as he leans in again. "I told you that I would break them somehow." When his lips meet hers again, Elain's hands come up to grip his shoulders. She gains confidence and starts moving her lips against his, deepening the kiss and causing the teenagers around them to go out of their minds. Azriel's hands land on her hips somehow and squeeze slightly, causing her to gasp and break away, breathing heavily.

"Get a room already!" Rhys yells, making a couple others groan in agreement.

Azriel's thumb lightly traces Elain's swollen lower lip and he winks. "Maybe later."

Maybe Az doesn't hate high school basement parties so much after all.

Send me a number and a ship!

Masterlist

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 16

A canon-compliant fanfic that takes place during the time of the War. For the summary and the entire fic, click here.

Disclaimer: The world and characters of acotar belong to sjm.

----

Miryam wants to disappear. She wishes she could winnow. Or maybe just turn into nothing at all.

She is sitting at the table in the Alliance council`s meeting room, staring at her hands. She tried to wash them, but there are still remains of the girl`s blood all over her. Around her, everyone is yelling. Most of them at her.

Her allies, it seems, are not overly pleased with her. So many of them are yelling that Miryam has trouble making out individual words, but the message is clear enough. What was she thinking, ending the meeting like this, provoking Ravenia. How dare she not have told them that she has a ´personal connection` - Miryam snorts at the word - to Ravenia. And, most of all, they are furious that Miryam is a witch. Or maybe furious that she didn`t tell them about it. Miryam isn`t sure what angers them more. 

She doesn`t bother to defend herself. She doubts she would even be heard over the general screaming.

“This“, the High Lord of the Night Court snaps, “is why I didn‘t want a child to represent us. I said from the very beginning that this would end badly.“

Queen Nakia says, “I think it`s clear that you‘re off the council. A witch!“ She shakes her head and makes a sign against evil. “How could we ever trust someone like you?“

Miryam presses her lips together. She almost waits for the first person to demand they not only kick her off the council, but kill her right away. Indeed, the royal who lost her soldiers to the Black Land‘s army and Artax is looking at her like she`s close to demanding her head.

„Stop it!“, Andromache yells, her voice rising over the general noise. 

Everyone stops speaking - out of sheer surprise, Miryam is sure. The queen turns around to glower at all of them.

“Are you all out of you mind?“, she asks sharply, “What reason do you have to demand her removal of the council?“ She turns to glare at the High Lord of the Night Court. „This war is about freeing the slaves - and you‘re telling her she failed because she said that there would be no peace if they didn‘t? What are you here for if you don‘t care about human lives?“

The High Lord looks inclined to object, but Andromache doesn‘t give him a chance.

„And the rest of you are just as bad!“ She shakes her head. „Do you honestly think that the person who created this Alliance cannot be trusted? That a personal who was a personal slave to Ravenia of the Black Land would betray us?“

A few of the assembled leaders look somewhat ashamed. But there are others who are still glaring.

„But she‘s a witch“, one of the royals snaps.

„So what?“ Andromache curls her hands to a fist like she is contemplating punching him. „Your kind has enslaved and slaughtered us humans for millennia and you dare to give another person shit for what she was born as? You hypocrites!���

For a moment, there is silence. People exchange looks, a few already look guilty. Suddenly, hardly anyone seems to want to look at Miryam anymore.

„Let‘s have a vote, then“, Nakia says.

“Should I wait outside?”, Miryam asks softly. 

She knows she should say something to defend herself, but she doesn`t find the words. Besides, it is not something she can really defend herself against. After all, how is she supposed to argue against something that she is?

“Yes”, Nakia says at the same time that Andromache says, “No.” The two queens glower at each other.

“If anyone wants Miryam off the council”, Helion says, “ that person could at least have the courage to say it to her face.” 

That quite efficiently shuts down any further discussion. Just when Nakia is about to call for a vote, the door to the meeting room opens and Jurian enters.

“What did I miss?”, he asks.

“Nothing much”, Helion says drily, “We were just discussing if Miryam should keep her seat on the council.”

“What?” The confusion on Jurian`s face quickly turns to anger. “I`m going to kill-”

“Jur”, Miryam cuts in before he can dig them both an even deeper grave. Death threats (at least open ones) are generally frowned upon in Continental politics.

“Right”, Nakia says, “Those in favour of excluding that female from the council?” She raises her own hand with a very pointed look in Miryam`s direction.

A few others follow. Jurian glares at each of them and Miryam sees two of them hastily lower their hands again. But those who raise their hands are not the majority and by far not enough to actually have Miryam kicked out. Nakia looks like she has a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Well”, Jurian drawls, “That is settled. If you don`t have any other ridiculous demands, we will return to our camp.”

He takes Miryam by the arm and pulls her to her feet. Then, he leads her out of the room.

As soon as they are outside, Jurian asks, “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

Jurian hesitates at that. Obviously, he hadn`t expected her to be honest. It seems like he didn`t really think of a response to a honest answer. (In all fairness, Miryam isn`t exactly known for being open about such things.)

Jurian avoids the rest of the conversation by looking around. “Where are those damned Fae when you need them?” He stalks further along the corridor and catches a Fae guard by the arm. “Can you winnow us back to our camp?”

The guard looks slightly intimidated, but nods. He winnows them back to the camps and vanishes again as soon as their feet touch the ground. They make it only a few steps until the camp's border before Mor comes running towards them, her golden hair waving behind her. Her eyes go straight to the blood on Miryam's dress.

"It isn't mine", Miryam says softly before Mor can ask.

"What happened?", Mor asks, looking between Miryam and Jurian. Likely taking in the tired looks in their eyes. "Did it go alright?"

"Yes", Jurian says, "Miryam scared the shit out of everyone and I think that no one will leave the alliance, so I suppose that counts as alright?"

Mor arches an eyebrow at Miryam. "Typical", she mutters, "something interesting happens and I'm not there."

Miryam doesn't feel like laughing. She doesn`t feel like anything at all, really.

Jurian shoots her a worried look. "Maybe we should go to my tent", he says carefully.

Miryam nods. She does her best to ignore the looks and whispers that follow her on the way to Jurian's tent. All she wants is to be on her own. Inside, however, the Illyrian commander is waiting. Already glaring at her.

There is a bloody knife in his hands. Jurian tenses, but the male just throws it to the ground at Miryam`s feet, hissing words in a language.

“I don`t understand you”, Miryam says. She tries to sound pleasant, but she can`t quite keep the strain out of her voice. 

“He`s dead”, the male says.

“Who?”

“The warrior whose soul you stole, aje.”

Even without understanding the last word, Miryam flinches back. “I didn`t...”, she stammers, “I would never... I helped him!”

“You touched him. To be touched by something like you is to lose your soul.” He spits on the ground between them. “He begged me to end his life once he heard what happened.”

Mor understands the implication a second before she does and gasps. Miryam catches on a heartbeat later.

“You... You killed him?” She can`t quite grasp what he is saying. That male... she saved his live. She didn`t...

Miryam takes a step forward. She clenches her hand to a fist. She doesn`t know what she plans to do - punch him, maybe. But the male already flinches back.

“I did nothing!”, Miryam hisses. All the pressure of the day comes crashing down and wakes her magic. This time, it doesn`t rise with a whisper, but crashes into her with the force of a full-blown hurricane.

“It takes more than a simple touch to steal his soul, you bastard!”, she shouts, “You killed that male for nothing!”

“Miryam...”, Jurian whispers and reaches out for her. She steps out of his reach.

Around the Illyrian, his magical aura begins to glow brighter. Before he can so much as say a word, Miryam reaches out and clenches down on his power. The Illyrian`s eyes go wide. Then, his three red syphons splinter into a million pieces. The male screams.

Miryam lets go. “Never cross me again”, she hisses. Then, she spins around and stalks out of the tent. 

She can only just hear Mor whisper behind her, “Now I get what you meant.”

Miryam manages to keep up a collected front until she reaches her tent. But as soon as the entrance is safely closed behind her, she can`t keep the tears in anymore. She lets herself fall onto her bed and presses her face into the pillow.

She still hasn`t managed to stop crying by the time the flap of the tent opens.

“You know”, Mor says lightly, “crying into your pillow is perhaps the most nineteen-year-old like I`ve ever seen you act. Almost makes you seem normal.”

It only makes her cry harder.

“Hey, come on. That was a joke.” She can feel the bed move as Mor sits down next to her. Lightly, she puts a hand on her shoulder. “When I was your age and crying”, Mor continues, “Rhys always snuck into my room with booze. But I`m not sure if you`re a drink-your-sorrows-away kind of person, so I also brought cake.”

Carefully, Miryam lifts her head from the pillow. Mor holds a bottle of red wine in one hand, a huge chocolate cake in the other. Miryam sniffs and rubs a hand over her face.

“Cake or wine?”, Mor asks.

“Cake”, Miryam whispers.

Mor grins and passes her a piece of chocolate cake. Then, she takes a swig straight out of the wine bottle. Carefully, Miryam takes a bite of the cake and almost groans in pleasure.

“Oh Cauldron, where did you get this?”

“A city in the Night Court.” Mor grins. “I winnowed there to buy it.”

Miryam smiles, but sobers up almost immediately. “This is very nice, Mor”, she says softly, “But with everything... I don`t know if we should...”

“Hey.” Mor takes her arm lightly. “The world isn`t going to fall into chaos because you take a few hours off for once in your life. Let`s just forget about everything for a bit - pretend there isn`t a war going on, that you aren`t a commander in this.”

Miryam hesitates and Mor gives her a gentle shove. “Come on! Don`t you want to know what it`s like? Just this once?”

“Alright”, Miryam says. The offer, really, is too good to resist. “So, what do you do as a normal person?” She takes another bite of the cake and does her best to forget about everything else.

“Whatever you want, really.” Mor grins. “We could talk about boys. Like this: Have you and Jurian already... you know?”

Miryam feels herself blush. “Not yet.”

They have come close a couple of times, but never actually gone through with it. Jurian hasn`t pushed - he is waiting for her, just like on everything else. And for the past months, Miryam has been trying to gather up the courage to say yes. 

Mor grins. “So you have never...”

“That`s not what I said.” Suddenly, it`s hard to breathe properly.

“Oh”, Mor whispers, “Oh Mother, I`m so sorry. I`m really horrible at this, it...”

“Let`s just drop it”, Miryam says and forces a smile.  “Normal night, remember?” To distract herself, she takes a bite of the cake. “Actually, if that`s supposed to work, perhaps you should do the talking. So: Have you ever... you know?”

“Oh yes”, Mor says and grins. She takes another swig out of her bottle and starts talking.

----  

Rhys should have seen it coming. From the moment they found out that Miryam is a witch, he should have known that there is no way he is going to remain in the camp. Illyrians and witches just don't mix well and Rhys doesn't have enough control over his soldiers to get them to behave themselves.

Still, it stings when Jurian calls him to his tent and cordially informs him that he is expected to leave the camp within the span of a day. Rhys supposes he can still count himself lucky - he knows of a few commanders who might have reacted differently. So he takes the news with all the grace he can muster, nods to Jurian and tells his soldiers.

Early in the next morning, a knock sounds at his door. He expects Mor, but instead, Miryam is standing in front of him.

“Lady.” Rhys inclines his head. (He knows Mor loves the female like a sister, but he also heard what happened in the past days. It is enough for him to really, really not want to make an enemy out of her.) “I was going to seek you out anyways. I wanted to apologize for my solders` behaviour.”

“There`s no need. It`s me who should...” Miryam shakes her head. “That soldier who died - I`m sorry about that. And I`m the only reason you`re being sent away.”

“I`d say I`m being sent away because I can`t control my soldiers. So really, I`m the one who`s at fault here.”

“No, I-” Miryam stops herself and grins. “Look at us. Both determined to take the blame on ourselves.”

Rhys bursts out laughing. “Now I understand why Mor likes you so much.”

“The feeling`s mutual”, Miryam says, “But that`s actually not what I wanted to tell you.”

“Well, then, I`m all ears”, Rhys says.

“You`re being sent to assist the army of Sangravah.” Miryam runs a hand through her hair. “The Grand Duke is a friend of mine. I sent him a letter telling him about your arrival. I told him that your soldiers are difficult, but you are a good male.”

“Thank you”, Rhys says. He can`t quite understand why she does it – after all, they don`t really know each other – but he knows what she did for him. “Truly. I`m in your debt.”

Miryam waves him off . “There is something else”, she says, “But you have to swear to keep this between us.”

Rhys frowns at her, but he nods. “Sure. My lips are sealed.”

Still, Miryam looks hesitant. “So, I didn`t know this until a few days ago when Mor told me what it was like in your last camp, but... I made a few inquiries and found out that your father basically gave people leave to do whatever they wanted with you.”

Rhys sighs in relief. For a moment, he thought that the news would be something bad. “Thank you for telling me, but I already knew”, he says, “My father told me that I would be here as a normal commander, not as his heir, before he sent me to the Continent.”

“But that`s different”, Miryam argues, “You see, even the normal commanders are protected because everyone knows that if you treat them too badly, they will complain to their superiors and you`ll be in trouble. No matter the rank of the soldier who gets harmed - there is always someone higher up who can make sure that you`ll be fine. It`s a simple way to keep everyone in line - the only way, really, to make this whole system with the mixed armies work out.” Miryam bites her lip. “But your father made it known that he doesn`t care about what happens to you. Not one bit. So you have no protection whatsoever.”

Rhys takes a deep breath. He hadn`t thought his father would go this far. It shouldn`t sting as much as it does.

“Okay”, he says softly, proud of how unbothered his voice sounds, “So I`m done for.”

“No, I...” Miryam smiles slightly. “I may have made it clear that you are under my protection. That`s what I wanted to tell you. So if there is trouble, you know... who you can turn to.”

Rhys gapes at her. He can`t quite process what she did. It`s stupid, reckless and probably makes her one of the most selfless people he knows. Still, he shakes his head.

“My father will be furious”, he says, “When he finds out - and he will - he will take it out on you.”

“The thing is, though”, Miryam replies, “that I`m not scared of your father. And if he thinks he can take it up with me, he`ll be sorely disappointed.” For a moment, something dangerous glitters in her eyes. But then, it is gone and she is smiling again. “Don`t worry, though. Your father may be angry if he finds out, but he won`t be stupid enough to do anything about it.”

“Well, now I really am in your debt”, Rhys says.

Miryam wrinkles her nose and looks like she`s just about to object when Mor rushes into his tent behind her.

“Rhys!” She jumps into his arms. “I just heard - I can`t believe you`re leaving already!”

“It`s alright”, Rhys whispers to her, “You needn`t worry.”

She shakes her head wildly. “I already tried to talk to Jurian, but he wouldn`t reconsider.”

“Mor.” Rhys lets go of her and takes a step back. “With the way my soldiers acted, I can`t stay here. One male died already. And Jurian was most kind - I know more than a few people who would have reacted differently.”

Which reminds Rhys of the conversation he was just in the middle of when Mor turned up. But Miryam, it seems, used the distraction to vanish. Rhys laughs and shakes his head.

“What?”, Mor asks.

“She`s an extremely dangerous female, that friend of yours.”

“Oh, I know.” Mor grins. “But honestly, after that meeting, everyone does.”

Rhys smiles back at her, but quickly sobers up. “I have to get going”, he says.

Mor wraps her arms around him again. “Be careful. Promise it.”

“I will.”

Mor nods. “I have a patrol to lead in a few minutes. So I`ll have to go now.”

Rhys smiles softly. “Look at that. My little cousin, leading her own patrols.”

Mor swats at his arm. Then, she turns around. Neither of them says goodbye - it would feel far too final for either of their liking. Still, Rhys wonders if he imagines the tears shining in Mor`s eyes as she turns around to look at him one last time.

The effort to get his army ready is enough to distract Rhys from the forced goodbye. Two hours later, they are airborne, heading south. It's a flight of three days to the new camp. He always thought Prythian was huge, but the Continent is a different matter entirely.

On the first evening, when they run into another army camp. Much to Rhys‘ relief, they are flying Alliance colours. Still, Rhys orders his soldiers to land a mile away. After all, anyone can put up an Alliance flag. Besides, few commanders take kindly to having a foreign army of five hundred land in their camp.

So he finds an Alliance flag of his own among their things, leaves his soldiers behind with strict orders not to move and walks towards the camp. It belongs to another aerial army, but their wings are white and feathered. The guards standing around outside are already at attention. It seems they are as unsure about Rhys' intentions as he is about theirs.

"I come in peace!", he calls to the guards.

"Stand down", one of the soldiers orders. The others lower their weapons and the male steps towards Rhys. "It's alright", he says, "we already met Illyrians at the Callian pass. I assume you're Rhysand."

"Rhys", he corrects automatically. "How do you know me?"

"Oh, you're kind of the reason we're here. We were actually supposed to be the ones to work together with Sangravah, but the orders changed." He smiles at Rhys and holds out a hand. "I'm Prince Drakon of Erithia. Nice to meet you."

Rhys takes the offered hand and tries to bow at the same time. After all, the male before him is on the Alliance council and rules over a territory about twice as big as the Night Court. In situations like this, it's generally better to be polite.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Your Highness", Rhys says.

"It's no issue. If you want to, you and our soldiers are welcome to join our camp."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Prince Drakon nods. "I'm not sure if you‘re aware", he says, "but in our army, females fight aloneside males. Our general is female. So in their own interest, your soldiers should show them respect."

"Of course, Your Highness." He wonders if he imagines the Prince rolling his eyes.

In the next few hours, Rhys does his best to get his soldiers settled into the camp without causing any fights. All while being watched by the sharp-eyed Seraphim general, who seems to be waiting for him to mess up. By the time everyone is settled, Rhys is done with the day.

He is just about to vanish into his newly-erected tent when gets a message from Prince Drakon, inviting him to dinner. Rhys sighs. There`s about a million things he`d rather do, but there is no polite way to turn down the invitation.

He finds the Prince in a tent in the camp`s centre. Dinner is already set out on a table that, from its look, is usually used for strategy meetings. Rhys thanks Drakon for the invitation and sits down.

They manage fifteen minutes of meaningless small-talk, before Prince Drakon forcefully sets down his fork. “Alright. I give up”, he says, “I have no idea what you`re playing at. And at this point, the entire Cauldron-damned Continent knows that I`m bad at politics, so I don`t know what you`re trying to do, but it`s not very nice.”

For a moment, Rhys just stares at him. Then, he bursts out laughing. The utterly wrong reaction, from the way Drakon looks at him. Offended, but mostly hurt.

It is enough to make Rhys sober up. “I`m sorry”, he says, “I shouldn`t have laughed, it`s just...” He shakes his head. “I`m from Prythian, you see. We don`t do that whole Continental politics business and I never learned it. So, whatever you think I was implying wasn`t my intention.”

Prince Drakon seems to contemplate his words for a few seconds before he shakes his head and laughs. “Well, now it`s me who ought to apologize”, he says, “It seems I don`t even need someone well-versed in Continental politics to make a fool of myself. I`m sorry. I`m a little sensitive about these things.”

Rhys can`t say she blames him for it. In the past months, he heard more than enough cruel jokes and rumours about the Prince to understand why he would be easily annoyed at these things.

“How about we just set politics aside for the evening?”, he suggests, “I mean, it`s not like we`re that far apart by way of age, so it`s a bit ridiculous anyways.”

Drakon raises an eyebrow. “Really? How old are you, then?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Not far apart? Are you kidding?” Prince Drakon grins. “You`re ancient!”

“Funny”, Rhys says, but he can`t help a grin. And just like that, the tension is gone. “So, you were at the Callian pass, correct? Where are you going now?”

“I`m supposed to take over the camp from a commander named Pelior. Apparently, he didn`t really do well with running his camp.”

“That`s an understatement”, Rhys mutters. He makes a mental note to send Miryam a thank you note as soon as he arrives in his new camp. 

“And you`re coming from Jurian`s camp?”, the Prince asks, leaning forward in his chair, “There are lots of interesting stories going around about him and Lady Miryam. I´d love to meet them both some time.”

“Oh, they are certainly fascinating people.” Rhys laughs softly. “Miryam especially, from what I have seen.”

“Is it true that she`s a witch? I only heard rumours.”

“In this case, they are true.” Rhys reaches for the wine and refills first Drakon`s glass, then his own. They clink their glasses together.

----

Three days after the meeting, things have calmed down a little for everyone. Most of the soldiers, it seems, have gotten over their initial mistrust and now see the advantages of having a witch in their midst. Which, in turn, means that Jurian has to spend significantly less time dealing out punishments.

Jurian is sitting in his tent and dealing with his least favourite part of his job: Paperwork. Most of it ends up on Miryam`s desk, but some of his things, Jurian has to deal with himself.

Groaning, he shifts through his paperwork. On top of the stack is a letter he doesn`t recognize. Frowning, Jurian rips it open and scans the content, his eyebrows rising further with each word.

My dearest General,

Ever since the meeting, I haven`t been able to think of anyone but you. You`re all I see, both waking and sleeping. I told you that our futures are intertwined and each of my visions has only reaffirmed that.

If you feel only a hint of the connection I know is between us, then I am begging you to give me a sign.

With love,

Clythia

Jurian blinks a few times. Then, he goes looking for Miryam. He finds her sitting around a table, talking to a few soldiers. When she sees the look on his face, she frowns up at him.

“Would you come for a walk?”, Jurian asks.

“Yes, of course.” Smiling, Miryam excuses herself and walks away from the group with Jurian. “What`s wrong?”, she asks as soon as they are out of hearing range.

Wordlessly, Jurian hands her the letter. Miryam´s face remains calm as she reads it. Finally, she looks up, but still doesn`t say anything. For a moment, they just stare at each other.

It is Miryam who breaks the silence in the end. “Say it, then. But don`t force me to.”

Jurian takes a deep breath. “It could be an invaluable opportunity”, he says, “If I play it correctly, I could gain an inside source in Hybern`s army.” 

He watches Miryam carefully. But still, there is no sign of what she`s thinking. She can be so damn hard to read sometimes.

“And are you asking me this”, Miryam asks, “as your lover, or as a member of the Alliance council?”

“Both.”

“As a member of the Alliance council, I agree with you. The information could be invaluable.” Miryam wraps her arms around herself, the only sign of her distress. “As your lover...” She shakes her head. “But I think you know me well enough to know which comes first. So if this is what you want...” She doesn`t finish the sentence.

Everything in Jurian screams at him to not do this. To throw that damned letter into the fire and never, ever think of it again. If only to make sure Miryam never looks at him like that again. But same as her, he knows what comes first.

“Then I`ll write her back”, he says. The words taste bitter.

“No, I...” Miryam winces and manages a smile. “Fae courtship is... I`ll have the letter ready by tomorrow.”

“Miryam.” Jurian reaches out for her and gently takes her by the arm. “Please. Please, I love you. This”, he waves at the letter, “this changes nothing.”

“I know, Jur”, she says softly, “It`s alright. If you can do this, then I can, too.” She gently takes his hand. “We`ll be fine. We`re stronger than this.”

Jurian nods. He is just about to reply when the alarm starts ringing.

Miryam and Jurian both dart around, jumping into action with practiced ease. Before they so much as make it to the camp`s centre, Tia comes running towards them.

“What`s going on?”, Jurian asks.

“There`s an army. About one hour away.”

Miryam frowns. “One hour? How did we spot it this soon?”

“Well, it`s a pretty big army.” Tia winces. “And they aren`t trying really hard to hide their approach. I think they want us to know.”

“How many?”, Jurian asks.

“Five thousand. At least.”

Jurian curses. He exchanges a quick glance with Miryam, who is biting her lip.

“I can send out letters”, she says, “But no other camp is close enough. Besides...” She frowns at Tia. “You said they aren`t trying to hide their approach. What if it`s a trap.”

“No, they...” This time, Tia seems uncharacteristically lost for words. “I think they want to send a message.”

Jurian doesn`t have patience for talking around a problem on a good day. And if there`s an army of five thousand soldiers marching towards them, it`s double true.

“Spit it out”, he snaps.

But Tia just looks at Miryam. “They`re from the Black Land”, she says softly, “I think...”

She doesn`t need to finish the sentence. It is clear enough without it.

Miryam challenged Ravenia during the meeting. And the Queen of the Black Land sent five thousand soldiers to deal with the threat.

----

A/N: So, a minor cliffhanger. Sorry. But guess what's finally going to happen in the next chapter!

As always, I'd love to hear what you think!

Tags: @sjm-things

[bookofmirth]

4, 5, 20, 22, 24 for the Valentine's asks please! Sorry, I'm a nosy idiot.

HA I wouldn’t post them if I didn’t want people to ask!!! *mwah* 

4) what was your first kiss like? It was super awkward, 12 years old playing spin the bottle with a guy I then “went out with” for like a week.

5) what was your last kiss like? Probably super boring? After being with someone for a long time, they blend together. And I am currently very okay with having no romance or sex in my life. (ironic I’d reblog a V-Day ask meme, oh well)

20) sweetest romantic memory? Probably when my ex surprised me with a new bookshelf one day after a long day of work. Very in character for me, I know. When we were long-distance he also surprised me with a visit on Valentine’s once. But tbh? The first thing I thought of was memories of my friends doing super nice things, like one time they hand crafted a birthday card, or just how they are there for me when things go south.

22) fictional crushes? Morrigan (acotar), Mia Corvere (Nevernight), Theo Craine (from the show Haunting of Hill House)

24) what makes you blush? Literally any compliment, I am so easy. They always catch me off-guard and I don’t know how to respond.

[ao3feed-acotar]

Spin the Bottle ft. the Inner Circle

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hL71B7

by adventurerofthewrittenworld

The Inner Circle plays spin the bottle, and some jealousy and tension ensues.

Words: 1168, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Cassian/Morrigan (ACoTaR)

Additional Tags: Mostly Fluff, inner circle sans amren, Silly, Banter

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hL71B7

[darling-cas]

Whatever It Takes: Chapter 7

ACOTAR Figure Skating AU

Summary: Nesta firmly believes that if you want something, you have to work your ass off for it. And she wants a National title attached to her name. But when her coach decides that a change in discipline is what Nesta needs, she’s far from impressed. Now, instead of training as a ladies single skater, she has to switch gears and skate as a pairs skater. And her partner? Someone she can’t stand. Non other than cocky, flirtatious, former Men’s skater Cassian. Edited by: @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

——————–

Cassian finished tying up his skates before sitting up straighter. He took a moment to close his eyes, running a hand through his dark shoulder-length hair.

He was early for practice that morning. But he couldn't stay locked up in his apartment any longer or he would have gone insane. Ever since practice a few weeks ago, when Rhys and Feyre tried to help him and Nesta, the oldest Archeron sister had captivated his thoughts more than she normally did. And it was making him restless.

He didn’t know what had happened, what exactly had made Nesta skate off of the ice that day. Feyre wouldn't tell him, nor would she say what was talked about in the dressing room. And if Rhys knew anything, he was keeping a tight lip. All Cassian knew was that Nesta was more quiet than usual. She was still her stubborn hotheaded self. But more.. serene almost. Quieter. More guarded and caged. She only spoke to him when she had to. And even then it was only a word or two. It was as if she didn’t want to get too close to him, which he didn’t think was possible. They were already so distant.

The new version of Nesta - it was driving him insane.

It had never happened to him before. No other girl ever made him feel that way. Whatever it was.

Damn that woman.

Standing up, Cassian took in a deep breath. As if he were trying to clear his mind, to rid himself of all thoughts of Nesta Archeron. He threw his hair back in an elastic before grabbing the water bottle off of the bench next to him and making his way to the door.

The bitter icy air slapped him in the face the moment he stepped out of the heated dressing room. The sound of the zamboni leaving the ice bounced off of the rafters, along with the voices of the single skaters as they started to leave the rink, done with practice for the day.

Cassian walked towards the ice, looking out at the fresh, smooth surface, clean and ready to be marked up once again.

He still had almost an hour until the pairs were supposed to practice, but he couldn't resist the thought of stepping onto the new sparkling ice.

“You’re here early.”

Cassian placed his skate guards on the boards next to him as he turned around.

Mor was standing behind him. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a long braid, skating bag over her shoulder as she took a few steps towards him.

A smile formed on Cassian’s lips. “What can I say, I just can’t stay away from the rink.”

Mor didn’t respond however, just stared at him for a moment. She looked at him with a calculating eye and a raised eyebrow.

“What’s been up with you lately?” She finally asked. “You've been acting weirder than normal.”

Cassian stared back for a moment. Had he really been acting weird? He didn’t think he had been. Nesta was the one acting weird. Cassian was fine.

Unless Nesta was getting to him even more than he’d originally thought.

That damn woman.

And of course Mor would be the one to pick up on it. She’d known him just as long as Rhys had. They had a long - and slightly complicated, mind you - history. She was one of his best friends. So it honestly didn’t surprise him that she was the one to call him out.

Despite all of that though, Cassian found himself shrugging. “Nothing is up with me.”

“I call bullshit,” Mor said. “You’ve been weirder than normal these past few months. But even more so these past few weeks.”

There was a pause as Cassian tried to wrap his head around exactly what Mor was saying. He tried to think of what to say, how to back himself up. To prove how wrong she actually was - even if she was right. But he knew, deep down, it was no good. No one could lie to Mor.

But Cassian didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth. Mor raised an eyebrow at him and spoke before he could.

“It’s Nesta, isn’t it?” She said, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “You definitely have a thing for her. Anyone can see it.”

Cassian would be lying if he said he wasn’t caught off guard. It was one thing to be feeling things for Nesta, even if he didn’t exactly know what those things were. But it was another to have someone call him out on it for the first time.

But it was in that moment, as Cassian looked into Mor’s deep brown eyes, that everything came rushing forward. All the confused, tangled, messy emotions he felt towards Nesta Archeron all but flooded his mind. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to glance at the ice. The words flew past his lips before he even realized what he was saying.

“I can’t stay away.” His voice was soft, raspy. “I can’t stay away and I can’t stop thinking about her and I don’t fucking know why.”

Mor stood next to him, her gaze following his.

A silence stretched on between them until Mor drew out a breath, fogging up the glass before her.

“I have a few ideas why.” She turned her brown gaze towards Cassian, expression unreadable.

“And they are?”

“I think you know already,” she simply said.

He looked back out onto the ice.

He knew Mor wasn’t going to say any more on the subject. Not that he wanted her to anyway. Because he knew - deep down, he knew what she meant.

He knew why he was acting that way - part of him did anyway. But he couldn't admit it to himself. He wouldn't admit it to himself. Because she was Nesta Archeron and he was foolish for feeling anything towards her. She was… She was…

“Babe.”

Cassian glanced over his shoulder as Mor turned around, a grin forming on her lips when her eyes landed on Andromache.

“Hey Cassian.” The dark-haired beauty waved before turning to her girlfriend. “Ready?”

Mor turned, hoisting her skating bag further up her shoulder before giving Cassian one last look, followed by a deep sigh.

“Watch yourself, Cass,” was all she said before she marched towards Andromache, the two leaving the rink hand in hand.

Cassian watched them go before turning back towards the ice, bracing his hands on the boards.

His mind was working a mile a minute. He couldn't focus on a single thought, a single word. Images kept flashing in his mind, mostly images of Nesta. Of that devastatingly beautiful and wicked woman.

He couldn't take it anymore. The thoughts, the images, they were all slowly driving him completely insane.

With a sharp breath, Cassian pushed off the boards, jumped onto the ice, and started to skate.

--------------------

Nesta knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't not watch.

She had seen Cassian skate before. Hell, she had skated with him herself. And they had been to all the same competitions for the most part. But she had never actually watched him skate by himself before. Until that moment. And… holy shit.

He was unyielding. Powerful. Forceful. He skated as if he was born, groomed, and harden to do so. He was brutal, precise, deadly - beautiful. And yet, with every twist and turn, with every jump and spin, there was an underlying grace to it.

It was different from when he skated with her. He was more guarded, more cautious. But by himself, he was just that. Himself.

And it stole her breath away. Her heart to leaped as she watched him carve up the ice.

She didn’t mean to stop and stare. She was simply earlier for practice than she normally was. She’d planned to use the extra time to fit in some more hours of practice. But the moment she stepped through the rink doors, the sound of blades on the ice met her ears. That was when she’d found Cassian, and then found herself unable to look away.

It was also not helping her one bit in sorting out her thoughts.

After her talk with Feyre in the dressing room, her mind had been all over the place. It was frustrating, irritating, and annoying as all hell, but also confusing and heart wrenching.

Rhys and Cassian, they’re the good guys.

Feyre hadn’t mentioned the talk since it had happened. For the most part, they both acted like it hadn’t, even though they were less hostile towards each other after. Still, Nesta didn’t know what to make of what Feyre had said.

She hadn’t been with anyone since Tomas. Hadn’t had a desire to be with anyone since then. Her life was skating and skating was her life. And yet, when she looked at the man before her, a man that drove her completely and utterly insane, a man she wanted nothing more than to simply smile at her, she felt something. Something she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to figure out.

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh, about to make her way towards the dressing room, when she saw it.

She saw him line up the jump, she saw him set it up the toe loop before throwing himself in the air. She saw him spin, once… twice… a third time… and then...

She couldn't believe her eyes - eyes that she was sure were bulging out of her head as Cassian landed the quad toe perfectly, head held high before he turned around.

His eyes immediately locked with hers.

Nesta was speechless. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. It took a hell of a lot to make her freeze, to surprise her, but holy hell she couldn't help it right then.

It was only when Cassian raised a questioning eyebrow at her that Nesta took the slightest step closer to the ice - closer to Cassian.

“I didn’t know you could do a quad,” she breathed. “You’ve never done one at a competition before.”

Cassian held her gaze for a moment longer, hazel eyes unyielding. She could feel his gaze all the way to her toes, deep within her soul.

After a moment, Cassian shrugged.

“No, I haven’t.” That was all he said before skating off, clearly dismissing her.

For the second time in a span of a few moments, Nesta was at a loss for words. And she probably would have stood there for longer than she wanted to admit, if it wasn’t for the rink doors behind her opening and Rhys and Feyre walking in.

Swallowing hard, Nesta tore her gaze away from Cassian, her heart racing as she made her way into the dressing room.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look up as Feyre walked in. Nesta simply threw on her skates, her fingers working on their own accord as they tightened the laces. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the image of Cassian pulling that quad out of her head.

And that look he gave her. That unreadable expression on his face, so unlike any he’d ever given her. There was no teasing, no sparkle in his eyes, no smirk pulling on his lips. His face was completely blank as he looked at her. What did that mean?

Nesta wanted to rip her hair out as she finished tying up her skates.

She didn’t want to care that much about why Cassian was looking at her a certain way.

But damn her. Because she fucking did.

With her mind reeling, Nesta stood up, Feyre not long behind her. The sisters locked eyes for the briefest moment before making their way out onto the ice without sharing a single word.

Nesta skated over to where Coach Carver and Cassian were standing, coming to a stop as she placed her water bottle on the boards.

“We have so much to do and not much time,” Coach Carver said in a way of greeting. “So here’s the plan. Do a quick warm up then we’ll do the routine from the beginning. I’ll make notes on everything that needs to be worked on, and we’ll go from there.”

Nesta nodded as Cassian mumbled a yes sir. But before she even had a chance to glance over at him, he was skating down the ice.

Coach Carver looked at her with a raised eyebrow, one that Nesta normally would have returned with a snappy comment. But her mind was buzzing, she couldn't think straight or make sense of what was going on herself. So she pretended she didn’t notice Coach and took off.

And by the time they got off the ice, she wanted to scream.

She’d be lying if she said practice got better as it went on. Because it didn’t.

Not that it was a bad practice, they had definitely had worse. However even when they had bad practices, Cassian still looked at her, talked to her.

Today, he would hardly look at her, hardly said two words to her.

It caused Nesta’s frustration to grow and grow until she felt ready to explode.

She didn’t know what she’d done to him, what she had said to make him distance himself from her, but she was going to find out. Their careers were at stake. Even she could put aside whatever she was feeling towards Cassian for her National title.

Zipping up her skating bag, Nesta stood up off the bench. She threw on her jacket, hardly glancing at Feyre as she walked out of the dressing room.

She stood there, marching back and forth as she waited for Cassian to walk out of the men's dressing room. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, Cassian walked out, Rhys not far behind him.

They were talking in hushed tones, but the moment they spotted her standing there, they stopped. Both of them turned their gazes to her. But it was Cassian’s that Nesta couldn't look away from. Those hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle in the stadium light. Eyes that held question, confusion, a number of things that Nesta couldn't bring herself to look further into. Eyes that haunted her every waking moment, eyes she saw every night, moments before sleep took her.

Nesta realized she could have stood there all night staring into those eyes, if it wasn’t for the raised eyebrow Cassian gave her. Or the sound of a dressing room door slamming shut behind her, followed by Feyre’s footsteps.

An audience. Great.

Clearing her throat, Nesta held her chin high, eyes hard as she looked at Cassian.

“We need to talk.”

“And on that note -” Rhys trailed off, giving Cassian a clap on the back before he and Feyre walked out of the rink. But Cassian didn’t so much as glance their way or bid them farewell. Neither did Nesta, not even when she felt Feyre glance over her shoulder at her.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall behind him.

“You want to talk?”

“Yes.” Nesta’s voice was clipped, tight.

Cassian simply hummed, his eyes raking over her from head to toe. For the life of her she couldn’t get a read on his expression whatsoever.

A beat of silence passed by. Followed by another, then another. Nesta’s irritation level was growing, and she was just about to snap when Cassian pushed off of the wall.

He took two slow, careful steps towards her, and their eyes locked. It was only when he was standing inches away that he spoke.

“Have a drink with me.”

The closed off part of her was screaming at her to say no. Begging her to walk away. But with every passing moment, with every beat of her heart that secretly wanted - Nesta couldn't bring herself to listen to that part of her.

Gaze like frost, brows pinched, Nesta kept her eyes locked on those hazel orbs as she said just one word.

“Okay.”

--------------------

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Cassian’s laugh rumbled deep within him as he took a sip of his drink. He placed the glass on the bar, glancing over at Nesta. The dim lighting and smoky atmosphere caused her smoky eyes to all but glow. Her brassy hair was out of its normal ponytail, falling over her shoulder and down her back in long locks. Her expression was relaxed, lips lazy, and eyes glossy from all the drinks they’d had so far.

She was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

Cassian couldn’t help but admire her beauty for a moment as he gave her an idle smile. “What for this time?”

Nesta turned to face him fully, elbow on the bar as she rested her cheek against her fist.

“You can do a quad,” she slurred slightly, “and yet for whatever reason, you’ve never done one at a competition.”

Cassian gave a lazy shrug, a smile plastered to his face. “I never had a need to.”

“Mhmm.” Nesta reached for her glass, draining the last of its contents. “Funny. I don’t recall you getting gold at Nationals these past few years.”

Cassian paused mid-drink. His gaze snapped towards her, only to find a sinful smile on those full lips.

“You,” he breathed, returning the smile, “are a wicked woman, Nesta Archeron.”

“I simply speak the truth, Cassian Guerrero,” she returned. “Now. Explain yourself.”

Cassian shook his head slightly, flagging down the bartender to refill their glasses. They were long past the point of Nesta fighting the idea of another drink.

“Sometimes,” he said, turning back to her, “it’s not all about winning.”

Nesta snorted a laugh. “Then why be in figure skating if you don’t want to win?”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to win. I’m just not as crazy about the idea as you.”

At any other point, that comment would have earned him a slap across the face. But this Nesta, drunk Nesta, simply laughed. An airy magical sound that Cassian wanted to bottle up and keep with him forever.

He wanted to see that version of Nesta more. The carefree version as opposed to the version who walked around with the weight of the world on her shoulders. He loved stubborn, hot-tempered, devastating Nesta. But as the sound washed over him, he made it his personal mission to make her laugh more. To make her smile more. To make her have fun.

Nesta took a sip of her re-filled glass before looking back up at Cassian.

“How did you get into skating?” She asked, catching him off guard.

Cassian met her gaze, those bright blue-grey eyes reminding him of light shining through a frosty window. And maybe it was all the drinks he’d had that night. Or maybe it was the genuine and sincere look on Nesta’s face, and how that look had his heart leaping in his chest. Either way, he found the smile slipping off his face, as his eyes trained on the wooden bar.

“My parents were pretty shit growing up,” he said, voice solemn. “I spent most of my time with Rhys and his family. Rhys’ mother was a big skater, she’d almost made it to the Olympics before she met Rhys’ father. That’s the reason they put Rhys through skating in the first place. Because of that, he spent a lot of his time at the rink. And the more time I spent with Rhys-”

“The more time you spent at the rink.”

Cassian lifted his gaze. He found Nesta’s gaze locked on him, glossy yet unyielding, as he nodded.

“She - Rhys’ mom - she put me through skating. And… I fell in love with it. She saw that and paid for everything for me until I was able to support myself, since my own parents wouldn’t give me a dime.” He couldn't keep the resentment out of his voice as he gripped his glass tighter.

There was a beat of silence. Just a beat, before Nesta spoke, her eyes never leaving him.

“Your parents?”

Cassian took a swig of his drink. “My mom died when I was 13, and I have no fucking clue where my dad is. Nor do I care honestly.”

A fact. Cassian hadn’t been in contact with his father for almost ten years. He wasn’t about to change that.

He finished his drink in one swallow, allowing the liquid to warm his blood as he watched the empty glass in his hand.

“She’s the one who taught us about skating,” he explained, voice soft. Such a contrast to just a few moments ago.

“Rhys’ mom?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “She's the one who drilled it into our heads that it wasn’t just about winning. If you don’t have fun, if you just think about getting the gold, you’ll lose yourself completely. I… I owe everything to her. She saved me. Her and Rhys.”

Nesta never once took her eyes off of him. He could feel her gaze burning into his skin. As he finally lifted his own eyes to meet hers, he could basically see the wheels turning in her mind.

At last, a few words slipped past her lips. “Is she…?”

Cassian nodded, running a hand through his hair. “A few years ago.”

Nesta didn’t say anything to that, not as she finally took her eyes off Cassian. Not as she finished off her drink in one gulp. It was only when she placed her hand on Cassian’s knee, giving it a squeeze, that her eyes trained on him again.

Cassian almost jumped out of his skin at the touch. His eyes traveled from her slender hand to her eyes, and he knew in that moment, she was going to kill him.

Her hand jerked off his knee just as fast as it had been placed. After getting his drink refilled and taking a big sip, Cassian turned to her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

In the morning, he’d blame the question on all of the drinks. On the mood they had set between them. On the open and raw look in Nesta’s eyes and the talk about Rhys’ mom. But right then, he had to ask. Maybe that made him a dick, he didn’t know. But as Nesta nodded, turning to face him fully on her stool, he couldn’t help it as the words left his mouth.

“What happened between you and Tomas Mandray?”

Nesta’s back went ramrod straight, her eyes widening in shock, surprise. The question had clearly caught her off guard. And as she turned back to the bar, eyes trained on her drink, Cassian regretted even opening his mouth.

“It's not important,” she said at last, sipping from her glass. “It’s in the past, and I’ve moved on.”

Nothing was said for a long while. Nesta turned back to her drink, taking a slow, almost lazy sip. But her hand gripped the glass so tight her knuckles turned white. Her jaw was clenched. Her eyes held a far-off look in them, a pool of emotion swimming inside. So much anger and pain and a familiar suffering, although different from his own. But also, there was the underlying fear again, and suddenly Cassian was back at the hockey game. He remembered that same look in her eyes when she saw Tomas - the same stiffness, the same expression, the same-

Cassian couldn't stop himself as realization slowly spread through him, and anger started to simmer beneath his skin.

“Did he-”

“No.” Nesta’s voice was cold, firm. Cassian watched as she placed the glass down, hand shaking just the slightest bit. He didn’t dare speak as she closed her eyes tightly. But only a second passed before she ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her lips. “He tried to, but I gave him a few good claw marks and a knee to the balls before it got far.”

Pure white hot anger swam through Cassian’s veins as he gripped his glass so tight, he thought it would break.

“I’ll kill him the next time I see him.”

A laugh flew past Nesta’s lips. A laugh that probably wouldn't have been as joyful if it wasn’t for all of the drinks.

“I can handle myself, you overprotective ass,” she said, looking back at him once more.

Despite himself, Cassian felt a grin form on his lips. “Oh believe me, I know.”

Hazel eyes locked with stormy grey ones. The smallest most stunning smile appeared on Nesta’s lips, and Cassian felt his stomach tighten at the sight. At the heated and glossy look in her eyes.

“Dance with me,” he whispered into the night, without even realizing what he was asking.

“Okay,” Nesta whispered back.

With a lopsided grin, Cassian stood up off the barstool. He stumbled slightly, liquor rushing to his head, before holding out his hand. And when Nesta’s fingers laced with his, it felt like flames were flying up his arm and gripping his heart, never letting go.

He led Nesta onto the dancefloor, a slow tune playing as he pulled her into his embrace.

It was different from all the times he’d held her in his arms on the ice, from every time he’d touched her hip or gripped her hand. More intimate. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flesh to him. As her arms snaked around his shoulders and her head rested on his shoulder. He knew it was probably because of all of the drinks - she was feeling tired and drowsy. But he still felt it deep within his soul. As he held that beautifully strong and fierce woman in his arms, every nerve and cell in his body felt it. And he couldn't stop the chuckle that left his lips.

“What are you laughing at?”

Cassian looked down to find Nesta watching him, her face so close to his.

“You,” he mumbled, pulling her closer as he shook his head. “You have your claws so deep in me you don’t even know, Nesta Archeron.”

“You’re drunk,” Nesta mumbled.

“No,” Cassian breathed. “Not that drunk.”

“Only someone drunk would say that.”

Cassian chuckled once more. And then, before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, he placed his lips on top of Nesta’s head, the kiss light as a feather.

He felt Nesta’s breath hitch as it tickled his neck. But neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They simply stayed in each other's embrace. For that night, they could get away with it. In the morning, they could blame it on the drinks, pretend it hadn’t happened if they so desired. But Cassian didn’t want to think about that.

No. For right then, he would continue to hold Nesta in his arms, both of them clinging onto one another. Holding on tight and never wanting to let go.

[wingsofanillyrian]

Nessian Masterlist

Because I am Nessian trash and have written about a million and one Nessian fics. All are fluff unless otherwise noted!

Send me a request!

Throne of Glass masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses masterlist

Winter Writing Masterlist (TOG and ACOTAR)

Lights Over Monaco - Multichapter Formula 1 Au (Unfinished)

Chapter Masterlist

Guys and Cars- Multichapter AU (Complete)

Chapter Masterlist

Oneshots

Sore Muscles (NSFW)

After Dinner (NSFW)

Kiss and Make Up (NSFW)

Welcome Home, Commander (NSFW)

The Art War

My Sunshine

It’s not Nice to Keep Secrets

A Chance Encounter

Drunken Ballads

The Morning After

I got you a Prize

Nessian Ikea Shenanigans

Coming home

A Dinner Forgotten

Modern Nessian Headcannons

Eclipsed on Starfall

Jealousy (Jealous)

Teach me how to Play

Defensive Stances

Spin the Bottle

Protective Illyrians

To Seek Comfort in his Arms (Angst)

Pots and Pans

Too Much to Drink

The Orphaned Cub

A Calculated Game (Jealousy)

Forgotten Puzzles (Angst)

The Valley

A Bond Accepted (Part 1)

She’s the Man(ager) (Part 1)

Gone (Part 1) (Part 2)

Not Just Friends (Part 1) (Part 2)

Who I am Without You (Part 1) (Part 2)

Sharing a Bed (Part 1) (Part 2)

I Still Love You (Part 1)