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captainluxiian · 6 years

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Actually my favorite thing ever right now 💙💚💙

I’m Batman, Dammit!

This fairly short drabble was inspired by a headcanon I saw by @captainluxiian where Cassian and Rhys end up both dressing as Batman for Halloween and end up fighting about it.

I took some liberties while writing, and ultimately couldn’t help but put a little Nessian in there for y’all. I hope you enjoy! As always, tags are at the bottom, and if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future fics, let me know :)

Cassian loved Halloween. Loved. As a child, he spent every October 31st roaming the streets of Velaris in search of the house with the best candy—he always searched for those houses, few and far between, who gave out the full-size candy bars. Those were his favorite. His brothers, Azriel and Rhysand, would accompany him, the three having coordinated costumes for every year they went on their quest for candy.

And year after year, it was a tradition between them. They’d go out, get their treats, and spend the rest of the night trading and feeling the rush of sugar through their blood. As they got older, though, Azriel and Rhysand stopped being so eager to trick-or-treat, instead favoring the chance to hand out treats to young children. When he’d get them to come out, though, Cassian would find himself skipping from house to house, having to drag his brothers behind him.

“Come on, guys, candy!” He’d yell eagerly, waving his hand for them to follow.

Azriel would roll his eyes, allowing to Rhys to speak for them both when he responded, “we’re thirteen. Aren’t we getting a little old for this?”

Cassian would sulk, his brothers noticing and running up to him, leading the way to the next house. So he would happily continue, anxiously awaiting the treats to come and not even thinking twice about his brother’s hesitation. Sure, it might’ve been a little childish to be trick or treating at their age, but…if Cassian enjoyed it, Rhys and Az could handle it. It wasn’t like anyone would see them, anyway.

It didn’t take long for Cassian to catch on to Rhys and Az’s games, and he soon gave up the trick-or-treating in exchange for massive, haunting Halloween parties—costume contests, apple-bobbing, and all. After their first party, it became a tradition for Cassian. A party every year, always on October 31st. No earlier, no later.

Cassian sat on the counter of his college apartment, reminiscing about past Halloween escapades, when Azriel and Rhysand—brothers and roommates, now—walked in with bags upon bags of decorations. Cobwebs? Check. Candy bowl with that mechanical hand? Check. Witch’s cauldron? Check. Other cool looking decorations? Most likely, check. He didn’t feel like looking through everything right now, and his brothers wouldn’t have left anything out.

“You guys went all out this year with decorations, didn’t you,” Cassian said, taking out the cobwebs and playing with their silky texture.

“Always do,” Rhys said with a wink.

Azriel nodded in agreement, smiling.

“Also,” Rhys added, dragging a hand through his hair, “Feyre told me she’d be coming to the party tonight, and—”

Cassian interjected eagerly. “Is Nesta coming?”

“If you’d let me finish, brother, I would’ve told you,” said Rhys, rolling his eyes.

Azriel laughed softly, answering Cassian for his brother. “Feyre told Rhys she’d be there, but no promises about Nesta. Or Elain.”

Nesta had captured Cassian’s attention since Feyre had introduced him. Her devastating beauty—coupled with her sharp tongue—utterly entranced him. Cassian was still unsure whether she felt anything for him but…he had a gut feeling. If she wasn’t ready for him, wasn’t ready to let herself feel anything for him…Cassian could wait. Would wait. He’d bide his time, playing her games until she was ready for him. And the Cauldron only knew that he’d wait his entire life for her. For her sharp, blue-gray eyes even sharper wit. If Nesta showed up tonight, well, for Cassian, that’d be like winning the damn lottery.

Cassian let himself smile—let himself hope that Nesta would be in attendance tonight.

“Let’s start setting up.”

The apartment Cassian shared with his brothers was as close to a haunted house as a one floor apartment could be. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings, off of the tables, and over the doors; Azriel had taken it upon himself to place eerily realistic-looking plastic spiders on the webs, much to Rhys’s dismay.

“It’ll look more realistic,” Azriel claimed.

“It’ll scare people,” Rhys countered.

“You mean it’ll scare you.”

“Can you two stop fighting? Az, the spiders are a great addition. Rhys, get over it. Now keep decorating. It needs to be perfect,” chimed Cassian, hanging up streamers of orange and black on the doors and the walls, sticking fake eyeballs and bones to the streamers for “added flair,” as he liked to say.

Tonight couldn’t just be a standard Halloween party. No, if there was a chance of Nesta showing up, it had to be perfect. Everything had to be in order, from the mixed drinks and jell-o shots to the witch’s brew they were making in the cauldrons, which was, really, a glorified punch bowl filled with vodka and cranberry juice—to look like blood, Cassian said.

But for Cass, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter how many bowls of candy they had, how many skeletons hung about the room, or how haunted the place looked; if Nesta didn’t show up, he’d think this all a waste. So he hoped that it was enough, sent a silent prayer to the Cauldron that Feyre could drag her out tonight, and went to put on his costume.

Cassian eyed himself in the mirror, flexing his muscles a bit as he gawked at the costume he had on. Batman had been his favorite hero since he was a child, and now that he was older, he could finally wear the costume of his dreams, without the fake muscles, of course. He didn’t need them; he filled out the costume just fine with his chiseled figure. He looked…fine. Better than fine, actually. He looked hot. He gave himself a smirk in the mirror, taking in his muscled chest, the armor hugging it tight. Finding a costume this detailed and accurate to the hero…it was like living his childhood dream, though it cost him a little more than he’d like to admit.

He grabbed his cowl from the desk, and sauntered out and into the living room, his cape swaying side to side as he walked.

Rhys was lying on the couch, costume and all, and…Cassian scowled, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“You need to change,” Cassian demanded.

“No.”

“We AGREED on a costume theme this year—”

“You never specified who you were dressing up as,” Rhys said, his voice calm. This only riled Cassian further.

“Well I ASSUMED—”

Rhys turned his head to look at Cassian, his brother’s face red with rate. “You know what they say about assumptions, brother.”

“Prick. Now go change.”

“No,” said Rhys, and went back to lounging on the couch.

Cassian stalked up to his brother, forcing him upright. Their costumes matched detail-for-detail. Batman versus Batman.

“Nesta’s coming tonight. What if she—”

“She won’t mistake you for me,” he said, laughing, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s just that—”

“Cassian, it’s a costume. Feyre’s supposed to be my Catwoman, anyway. Just relax.”

“But I’M BATMAN,” yelled Cassian, stalking off to pour himself a drink.

“You don’t have it copyrighted,” he said, adding, “will you stop being such a child?”

“I thought we’d agreed—” hearing the door open, Cassian traded his anger for laughter as Azriel walked in, costume on. Rhys soon joined him, their argument now just a memory as tears streamed down both of their faces, crying of sheer laughter.

“What…what’s so funny?” Asked Azriel to his brothers, who were clenching their stomachs, doubled over in laughter.

Azriel closed the door and went to look himself in the mirror. What was so funny? He was Robin. Cassian had asked him to be the Robin to his Batman months ago, and he was happy to oblige. His dark hair matched perfectly, the mask fitting over his hazel eyes, and…he couldn’t exactly find an outfit like Cassian’s, with layers of armor and mystery, but…he made do with what the store had. The clerk had said that this was exactly what Robin wore. And he had no experience with Batman like Cassian did, so…well, he trusted the clerk.

“Your legs are bare,” Rhys said in between laughs.

It was true. While Cassian—and Rhys, much to Azriel’s amusement—were decked out in full armor, Azriel’s costume felt more like a joke. A cruel, cruel joke. His “costume” was little more than a green t-shirt with a red vest, a yellow ‘R’ plastered on the left breast. The green gloves, yellow cape, and mask were standard, but…his pants…well, the pants were nonexistent, the costume opting for a briefs-type feel—the green underwear leaving virtually nothing to the imagination.

“Azriel, where did you get this?” Cassian said, cackling.

“The costume shop lady told me this was the Robin costume,” he muttered, his cheeks turning red.

“Oh it’s the Robin costume alright, just not the one you wanted,” Cassian teased, unable to stop his laughs from escaping.

“Is it too late to…”

A knock came from the door. “Looks like it’s too late to change, brother,” said Rhys, and opened the door to find Feyre and Nesta across the threshold.

“Hello, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, giving his girlfriend a kiss, “I see you dressed up for me…though I distinctly remember you telling me about a Catwoman costume?”

Indeed she had. She told Rhys a couple weeks ago that she was just dying to wear the Catwoman costume she found at the store—little more than a latex bodysuit, a mask, heels, and a whip—so he’d agreed to be her Batman. But now, instead of that latex bodysuit, Feyre had on a dress of purple and green, accompanied by a green wig in pigtails, and bloodred lips and paled skin.

“I changed my mind,” she said, turning to Nesta, “plus, my sister tried it on a few days ago and it looked better on her, so I figured I’d let her wear it tonight.”

“Well you’re the most beautiful Joker this Batman’s ever seen,” he said, pulling her away from her sister and into the apartment.

“Nes—Nesta,” Cassian breathed. She was here. Here. With him. Right now. Here.

And she was Catwoman. If she was devastatingly beautiful on a normal today…in that suit, Cauldron, she was deadly. She could send men to their graves with one smile.

“Are you going to stop drooling, or should I close your mouth for you,” she snapped, stepping closer to him.

It took all the effort in the world to make his words even as he said, “aren’t I allowed to admire a beautiful woman?”

Nesta snorted, ignoring the compliment. “I see you’re my Batman for the evening.”

“And you my Catwoman.”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” She replied.

“What do you know about Batman and Catwoman?” He asked.

“More than you’d think.”

Cassian eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you liked comics.”

“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, bat-boy,” she said, her blue-gray eyes meeting his, as if she wanted to tell him more, but wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet.

“Well then, Nesta,” said Cassian, taking her hand and kissing it lightly, “why don’t you tell me?”

She gave him a slight smile and let him lead her into the party.

I hope you enjoyed this drabble, and if you have any prompts/headcanons/ideas you’d like to see me write, just send ‘em on over my way!

Tagging: @elide-lochan-salvaterre @captainluxiian @aelingalathynius-fireheart @urbisie @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @dreams-of-feysand @kickassunicorn @theoceanisnotsilent @rkjar1646 @nephelle–warrior-scribe @writer-reader-traveller @carstairsxblackthorn @therenaissanceassassin @kowalskepie @alicetabithabooks @velaristoterrasen @lorcanswife @rhysisdaddyaf @evalin–ashryver–galathynius

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captainluxiian · 6 years

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Fifties Blues

Chapter 5, Prythian, 1958

In the town of fifties-era Prythian, things are far from normal. Teenagers are put to the test as they surf through high school, dealing with relationships, grades, and the relentless Court gangs battling for dominance. Jukeboxes and leather jackets, every day that goes by leads to a new problem at each bend.

Tags: @highladyjel @valiantxhearts @rory050 @highladyofherondale @kittykat0607 @kickassunicorn @musicmaam @hxghlady @maraadyyer @acofar

peep!nessian intensifies

As Feyre Archeron held her books tucked tightly to her side, her hand froze, hovering against the door. She had to lie to Tamlin about where she was headed to, claiming she fell ill during the last hour of school today.

Granted, she was feeling slightly out of it when Rhys only flirted once or twice with her today. He seemed...off in a way.

Sucking in a deep breath, she knocked quietly and waited a few seconds before it opened. A beautiful woman who appeared to be in her early forties answered, her blue-violet eyes glimmering.

“Hello, you must be Feyre.” the woman, held out a hand, shaking the girl’s before her. “I’m Rhysand’s Mother, Iden.”

Feyre smiled kindly. “Pleasant to meet you, Mrs. Knight.”

Iden motioned for her to come inside, softy closing the maple door behind behind her. “Rhys should be in his room, down the hall and to the right.”

Feyre nodded, heading for her destination but got mildly distracted by the delicious smell. “That smells beyond amazing.”

“I’m making my special chicken, bread and peas tonight.” Iden grinned. “Why don’t you stay for supper tonight? Studying is awfully hard with an empty stomach.”

“I can’t say no to a warm meal.” Feyre beamed, finally heading towards Rhysand’s room.

The door was cracked open a sliver, allowing Feyre to just gently press on the door for her to enter. Rhys was perched on his bed, writing something down in what appeared to be homework.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” Feyre snickered, watching as be sat up instantly and got to his feet. “Starting without me I see?”

“I had extra stuff to do.” Rhys snatched up the sheets of paper as Feyre set up her things at his desk.

It was surprisingly neat and organized, with just a few stray pens here and there.

“Like what, extra credit? I couldn’t believe that even if I tried.”

Rhys rolled his eyes jokingly, getting out a clean sheet of parchment for the project. “So what exactly are we supposed to be doing again?”

Feyre gave him a pointed look. “We’re supposed to come up with—wait a minute.”

Rhys raised a brow. “What?”

“This project isn’t done at home, it’s for school. We don’t have any of the ingredients—you’re insufferable.”

“Hey now, don’t blame me when you set up the plans in the first place.” Rhys stretched his arms out behind his head. “Very clever, Archeron.”

Just then, Iden popped her head inside the room. “Supper is served.”

“You’re staying..?”

Feyre shrugged. “Couldn’t pass up the offer of free food.”

Rhys shook his head and chuckled. “You’re something else, Archeron.”

Heading towards the table, Feyre sat beside Iden on one side, Rhys on the other. Soon after, a little girl of around eleven or so bounded into the room.

“Is this the dolly you keep talking about?” she whispered quite loudly, obviously intentional.

Rhys shushed her as she sat in her seat. “I’m coming for you one day, Nissa. Just you wait.”

Iden shot an apologetic look towards her guest. “I’m sorry, these two are always bickering back and forth.”

“Oh I don’t mind, really.” Feyre stuck her fork in her chicken. “I have two sisters so I’m used to it.”

Nissa said through a mouthful of food, “I wish I had a sister! Rhys is no fun at all, always hanging out with his weird friends and using too much hair product.”

“I’m glad you love me as much as I do you, baby sister.”

“I am not a baby!”

Feyre interrupted their boisterous conversation, “Mrs. Knight, this chicken is wonderful.”

“Thank you Feyre, at least someone appreciates my hard work.” she gives a hint to Nissa who mashed her food around her plate and poked it messily.

Nissa acted casual. “I like the way it looks when it’s mush.”

The youngest Archeron laughed.

—

As the evening bore on, Feyre connected quite well with Iden and Nissa. She stayed to help clean the dishes, since she didn’t have a project to work on.

Rhys tried to help out, but broke a plate in the process and made the group burst in laughing at his attempt. He briefly left the task to them after practically being kicked out, and left them to their gossip.

As he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, he squinted at the sound of laughter down the street. Beyond that it was quiet, only the sound of swaying branches and cricket chirps.

He recognized that boisterous laugh to be none other than Cassian.

—

Nesta leaned against the door to her home as Cassian tried to convince her to go out with him. His endless flirts weren’t too shabby, and she applauded him for the relentlessness.

“Cassian, I am a teacher and you are a student, it wouldn’t work—”

Cass stopped her. “You aren’t a legitimate one yet, Nes. And besides, who is gonna know?”

“I’ll lose my job, and I need the money for my father.” Nesta bit her lip, weighing her options.

“Just go with me for a few days, we can learn more bout each other. I’m not a shabby guy.”

Nesta sighed. “I’ll give you one date, but that’s it.”

Cassian smirked. “You won’t regret it, Nes.”

“I better not.” her icy gaze tore over his body. “One chance.”

“One chance.” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, only to meet the outside of the door.

He stood up and brushed off his leather jacket sleeves, a hand running through his dark hair. “Well played, Cass. Well played.”

—

As Rhys picked a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, Feyre stepped outside onto the porch. She sat on the stair step beside him and stared into the empty street.

“Even though you tricked me tonight,” Feyre thought she heard Rhys laugh quietly after that. “I still had a great time.”

“I’m surprised you managed to survive my baby sister.” Rhys commented, taking a puff.

“Must you?”

Rhys turned his head and blew smoke into her face calmly, earning a scowl from her. “If we’re going to continue hanging out together—“

Feyre shook her head. “Oh no, this was just a one time thing.”

Rhys set the cigarette down from his lips for a moment, mulling over her words. “This isn’t because of Tamlin, is it? It’s your choice on who you want to be with, not him.”

The choice is always yours.

She focused her attention on his violet irises, letting the sound of the late summer wind fall upon them. “It’s not because of him.”

“Then what is it, Feyre?”

Their noses were so close to touching, she could almost taste the scent of cigarette on her lips. “I need to get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably get back inside as well.”

Feyre stood up and gripped her useless books tightly. “You know, sometimes you can be a pain in the ass.”

Rhys didn’t argue with that, taking another swig of his cigarette before putting it out on the ground with his heel.

“And sometimes you can act like a completely different person.”

He glanced up at her, lips pursed as he did so. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Archeron.”

—

Iden watched the scene unfold outside from the living room, Nissa noisily flipping through channels.

“He’s barely known her for a few days and is already head over heels.” Nissa scoffed, finally settling on a cartoon channel.

“He takes after his father.” Iden saw him in her son everyday, and even though the two of them grew apart, there were still times she once loved him.

It’s been years since he had left his wife and children, never saying a word as he did so. Not even a goodbye, just a dark-green packed suitcase and that was it.

Iden patted Nissa on the shoulder lightly, then headed for her room down the hall.

The youngest Knight offspring eventually fell asleep in front of the tiny television set, waiting for her older brother to come back inside.

As Mor finally walked through the back door, her shoes off to prevent sound, she was stopped by the faint flashing of the TV.

She managed to sneak past Rhys to get to backdoor, even catching a quick glimpse of he and Feyre’s conversation along the way. She’d have to interrogate him about it in the morning.

In the meantime, she set down her sneakers and picked up her cousin, bridal style, as she turned off the TV with her one foot. Nissa lightly snored as Mor lugged her to a pink painted room and set her on the bed.

Nissa stirred slightly, rolling over as she did so. Mor let out a breathy laugh, her hand resting on the golden handle.

She was beyond lucky.

—

As Feyre turned to leave, Rhys turned his head and lightly pressed his lips against her temple. It lingered on the side of her face, faint heat blooming across her speckled cheeks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Archeron.”

She merely nodded, backwards walking to her house across the street. Feyre watched as he slid back inside of his home, the porch light going out.

She released a breath and went back home, only to be caught by her eldest sister at the door.

“What are you doing out this late?”

Feyre tensed. “I was working on a school project with Andy and we forgot about the time.”

Nesta decided not to push the obvious lie, for she held one underneath her tongue as well. A secret she shouldn’t even be keeping, one that was too soon and forbidden.

All the more desirable.

“Good night.” Feyre set down her books on the kitchen table and headed for her room to quickly shower off all of these thoughts that swam endlessly in her head.

“Good night.” replied Nesta, who sunk into one of the wooden chairs at the table as Feyre hid from sight.

The overhead light flickered faintly as she rubbed her temples, the building headache creeping in. Her eyes focused in on the small frame of her beautiful mother, hair pinned and dark lips.

She smiled fully in this picture, the last one to have survived after all these years. Nesta ran her fingertips across the edge of the frame, begging for some sort of guidance.

What am I going to do?

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #feysand #sjmaas #nessian #elriel #feyre archeron #rhysand #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #throne of glass

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