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lalacliffthorne · 6 months

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sweet lil halloween headcanons: modern!roommate!batboys edition 🦇

so in honour of halloween, I have been thinking about what it would be like with the modern batboys and, most importantly, what they would dress up as (or in Azriel's case, grudgingly be forced into)

Cassian's costume especially was the idea of @leafsandstarlight when I got stuck - she delivered, as usual, and I love her for it, even more than usual. mostly bc it's been stuck in my head ever since. you'll see. *grins widely*

happy halloween from this witch to the lot of you 🐈‍⬛🔮🪦

so apparently, Rhys' Halloween partys are legendary on campus

for some reason, so far, that completely went past you

(most likely because you spent the past few Halloweens with Feyre in her tiny apartment, buried in blankets, watching Hocus Pocus while eating your weight in snacks)

so you're a little confused when about two weeks before Halloween, Rhys drags you with him to meet with a caterer

you're supposed to sample food

tho you're never one to complain about something like that, you do feel a little confused when you blink up at him in question, and Rhys furrows his brows

"Wait, didn't I tell you?"

he didn't

he also didn't tell you that this year´s location is an old castle in the old part of town

it's where you meet the caterer, in the kitchens in the cellar

on the way, you freeze in place for a solid minute to gape at the cavernous ceilings with huge chandeliers and stone walls of the halls Rhys is renting for the party

it really shouldn't surprise you that much

it's Rhys after all

extravagant and over the top are basically his middle names

how he managed to snag a spot like that at Halloween is beyond you tho

connections, Cassian later says wisely

and probably a shit ton of money

when, staring at the display of different fingerfoods in various spooky forms, you ask tentatively about just how much money, Rhys sends you a grin that is downright wicked

"Well, someone has to spend something."

and spending he is

over the course of the next two weeks, Rhys disappears for hours, meeting with people for the bar, a DJ and to take care of decorations

then, a week before Halloween, flyers appear on campus

glossy and deep black, with bats and jack'o'lanterns printed on the front along with the date and location in purple letters

it's the beginning you of constantly hearing people plan their costumes in passing

and the moment you suddenly realise that crap --

you have absolutely no idea what to wear

Mor just giggles at your panic

she drops in as you're desperately scrolling through Pinterest, trying to come up with anything that you like, is cheap and can be assembled in under a week

"jesus, calm down. Rhys may make the whole thing the most extravagant student party of the year, but most people that are coming aren't spending loads of money on their costumes either, it's more about creativity and finding something you like."

that doesn't calm your nerves in the slightest

it's Cassian who, purely by accident, gives you an idea in the end

it's a few days before Halloween, and he's sitting on the couch, flicking through the book you left on the coffee table with furrowed brows

"So they're demon hunters?" he sounds intriguied, looking up at you as you lean over him to try and snag your book

you still, your heart doing a double flip

then you start beaming and pull the book from Cassian's hand, pressing a long, smacking kiss onto his cheek that makes him grin

"What was that for?"

it's for him giving you an idea

it's a perfect one really

the evening of Halloween, the city is already dark outside the windows

when you look outside, you can see kids and their parents on the street, dressed up and ringing doorbells, carrying flashlights and lanterns

Mor comes over to get ready at six

she's also the one who always gets up to open the door for children trick or treating

otherwise, she's sitting on the couch in the living room

she's wearing a long, dark red silk dress with a high slit, her hair open and wavy as she squints in concentration and paints her lips

she's dressed as a devil, complete with headband with little black horns that's sitting on the coffee table

she even put in red contacts

you're sitting crosslegged on the other couch, crunching your brows in focus as you spread the lightest shade of foundation you could find in the drugstore on Rhys' face

when he told you a few days earlier that he's going as a vampire, the first thing flashing through your mind was him in a cheap cape and too small fake teeth

it made you snort laughter and him huff

now you get it

Rhys is dressed to the nines

black silk shirt that's almost all the way unbuttoned and shows off his chest tattoos

black dresspants and black shoes

his hair is lightly styled back, and a strand falls into his face as you powder his face, causing him to sneeze and you to giggle

he even managed to get his hands on very real looking fake canines that flash in the light whenever he sends you a grin

no tacky cape

also no sparkles

he's like a modern, expensive version

almost like he stepped right of the pages of one of your books ;)

he lets you pale his skin before using eyeshadows to give him slightly sunken eyes and smear some red paint around his mouth

when he finally sends you a grin, it causes a giddy shiver to run down your spine

Mor does your make-up before, after a look onto the clock, shoos you off to get dressed

when a little later, you step back out of your room, there's a tall figure towering in the doorway to the living room

your breath hitches at the sight of broad shoulders straining against a black t-shirt, black jeans tucked into black boots and amber eyes

they're currently glaring, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why

or at who

you hear Rhys snort from the living room

"Yeah, there's no way you're going as you."

with the way Azriel is glaring, there's also no way he's putting on a costume

which doesn't surprise really surprise

Azriel really isn't the type to invest time and care into putting together a costume

if things were going his way, he'd probably stay at home and read a book

which of course, Rhys has planned for

when you move, Azriel turns his head

he seems to still, the glare in his eyes vanishing as the deep furrow between his brows, curtesy of his scowl, smoothens

and he stares

stares at you

dressed from head to toe in black, with a holster strapped to your thigh and temporary rune tattoos all over your exposed skin

and suddenly, something is fluttering violently against your ribs

somehow, you manage to send him a cheeky grin and get your legs to moving

they kinda feel like jello as you halt in front of him, having to tilt your head back to look up at him

"Darling?"

Rhys is suddenly smirking in a wicked way that works even better in his vampire getup, his violet eyes twinkling

"You don't happen to still have some of those tattoos, do you?"

it takes you a second to catch on

then your heart suddenly performs a series of dips and turns

"Well...", you look up at Azriel and somehow manage a cheeky, beaming grin, "that would certainly fit."

Azriel huffs

it takes a staring contest of roughly a minute until he accepts his fate

well

or until you smile up at him, something thrumming against your ribs as you crunch your nose

"please? come on, you're not even really dressing up, just - elevating."

you grin widely

Azriel's scowl deepens

(mostly because it's unfair you just have to look at him that way and he would dress up as a pink bunny if you asked)

but he doesn't protest

just rolls his eyes a little and brushs past you to plop down onto the couch

Mor is suddenly very busy correcting a flaw in her make-up you can't seem to find

so it's you who ends up sitting in front of Azriel, his skin warm under your hands as you apply the rune tattoos left all over his arms

you can feel his eyes on your face and try to fight the warmth spreading through your cheeks

at least he doesn't look as huffy as a few minutes ago

(it's hard to stay scowling when all he can focus on is that little crease between your brows as you concentrate and the way the smell of your perfume and shampoo rises into his nose

he's a hundred percent sure there's no way you don't hear the way his breath catches every time your fingers brush his skin

especially when you lean forward to put one of the runes onto the right side of his neck)

you can feel Azriel's warm breath ghost over your skin as your fingers gently press against the side of his neck

it causes your own to get stuck in your throat, right next to your heart

(you should really get that checked)

you try not to look up, because you're pretty sure you're close enough to see the golden spots in Azriel's eyes

and that would not bode well for your concentration

(you're also close enough that your hair almost tickles his skin and that your scent is everywhere

Azriel needs to physically stop himself from slipping his fingers under your chin and tip your head up to -)

you catch movement from the corner of your eye

glad for a distraction, you raise your head

only to grow wide-eyed

because unlike Rhys, Cassian hasn't told anyone what he's going to dress up as

now, you realize why

Azriel seems to realise you're suddenly distracted, because you feel him turn his head before stilling

most likely because he also sees Cassian standing in the doorway

dressed as Ken

the skater version

complete with sun visor over his tied back hair, neon yellow fanny pack and knee pads

he even has a pair of neon pink skates thrown over his shoulder

you blink at him

once

twice

then you snort a laugh and break into a fit of giggles

it breaks the spell Cassian's outfit has cast, and Mor nearly topples off the couch as she starts laughing while Rhys dramatically faints on the armchair

even Azriel looks, tho reluctantly, impressed

(mostly because the way you're laughing, tears in your eyes and barely able to breathe as Mor drops to her knees and bows, makes up for whatever extravagent party Rhys is about to throw your way)

when you get to the castle, the place is decorated magnificently

you suddenly understand why Rhys was gone for so long

the floor is covered by whisps of smoke, the lights are dimmed

there are fake cobwebs spun over the brick walls and high ceilings and even the chandeliers

you count two dozen skeletons in one room alone, and armadas of paper bats dangling from the ceilings on invisible strings

dry ice at the snack buffet in combination with the fingerfoods makes you wonder if maybe Rhys just wanted to give his father a heart attack in case he sees the expenses his son accumulated for a student halloween party

there's even an actual bar with a menu of spooky drinks

loads of people are already there, and it's only getting more

everyone is dressed in various degrees of more or less spooky outfits

Feyre is waiting for you near the entrance

she's dressed as Katniss Everdeen, in black armor and with bow and arrow over her shoulder, a little fake blood dried on her temple and eyes bright

"How the fuck did we miss this before??"

you have no idea

you also have no idea where she got the full costume and how she can look so comfortable in chest armor

you do have an idea tho why Rhys is suddenly looking very distracted

it makes you grin cheekily enough for him to huff down at you when he finally catches you staring at him

you're almost sure tho to see his cheeks gain a little color under the pale make up

especially when Feyre grins widely at him

you spend the whole night with Feyre and Mor

you ransack the buffet (you're very proud of your choices)

try your way through the drink menu

and dance

you sometimes catch a glimpse at Cass in his neon outfit reflecting the lights as he makes his way through the mist

he looks like he's having the time of his life

finally, sometime around two in the morning, your feet hurt and the adrenaline of the night has worn off enough to make you feel tired

also you've lost Feyre and Mor somewhere in the crowd after using the toilet

trying to catch a glimpse at either of them, your eyes instead meet deep, amber ones

your heart dips and swerves in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol or tiredness

Azriel is leaning against a wall halfway across the huge, cavernous room

a strand of dark hair is curving over his forehead, the pink and purple lights make his jaw and cheekbones look even sharper than usual and illuminate the rune tattoos scattered over his skin, fitting in perfectly with his real ones

the sight of him causes something to topple over in your chest

you caught glimpses at him all during the night

usually off in the shadows, leaning against a wall or lounging on a seat, sipping a drink

every time you saw him, there was someone next to him, mostly girls, talking to him, trying to flirt

it made something dip over strangely in your chest

but for some reason, he barely seemed to notice

for some reason, every time, his eyes were already on yours, flashing amber in the flickering lights

just like now

the slight crease between his brows that doesn't quite spell uncomfortable smoothens

then he pushes off the wall and starts to weave towards you

again, your heart does a funny little thing

but you push it away and begin to fight your way through the crowd to meet him

when you finally meet, it takes one look at you for the dip of a crease to appear in his cheek

"Home?"

his deep voice makes your skin tingle even through all the noise and the music, and you deflate with a sigh, feeling almost comically relieved

you text Feyre and Mor while Azriel steers you out of the full rooms, his hands on your shoulders

picking up your coats, you feel a happy shiver run over your skin when you step out into the night sky

your breath hangs in white clouds in the air when you huddle up and Azriel offers you the crook of his elbow, his hands in his pockets

and if you take a very long route to get home, wandering through the quiet, cold city and sniffling as you blink up at the bright moon, neither of you makes a comment on it

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate123 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars

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lesolehabitantdelalune · 7 months

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𝑬𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 & 𝑲𝒊𝒎 ✂️❄️

" I can't touch you. But I can cry when you cry. I can miss you. And I can love you. And I will. Always. "

Characters belong to @sjmaas

- Art by @/feristhii✨

- Comm. by me

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

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Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister: Can’t Bring Myself To Wake You

A/N: surprise! It’s relevant!

Warnings: spiders mentioned briefly, Alice in Wonderland vibes 🍄, the hobbit vibes, Tim Burton vibes (Would recommend listening to this Tim Burton vibes playlist for Halloween)

Word count: 4,912

-Part 8-

Visual Prompt here!

It’s obviously a dream—the world isn’t right upside down.

It takes seconds to realise the error, flipping the correct way up. Reorienting itself to become seamlessly correct.

Leaves wilt from trees, disconnecting from branches then fluttering away to visit flower patches, eager to gather honey. Waters babble and converse, complaining about the distance to open ocean, how far there’s yet to go.

Quiet footsteps pad alongside a creek, water sausages perking up at irregular intervals—distanced and without discernible pattern.

He’s still so far away, the three stars in the sky your only guide, glittering like tiny sequins woven upon a thick, inky fabric. The kind that would have kept out the cold on frosty winter nights. Toes curl but you press forward, sun rising on the horizon, soaring to the sky, well above the treetops.

The forest shifts, rendered now in caramel and whiskey, shades of autumnal gold gilding the leaves. They crackle and crunch beneath your feet, but you attempt to keep to the path—getting fainter and fainter the further you go. Just like the dimming starlight. You’ll have to hurry your pace—you need to find him before the starlight winks out, and you aren’t keen on meeting the creatures kept secret by night.

Peer at the gentle wolf to your right, blue-grey eyes gleaming with interest, taking in the colours of the world. “How much longer do you think?” You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb her too greatly. Definitely not wanting to irritate the silver eyed wolf below you, keeping you aloft upon her back ever since your feet became too tired to go on. Months ago.

“Another few hours?” She chimes back, raising her snout to the air, inhaling the no-doubt sweet smells. “It’s difficult to say.” You sigh heavily, settling down into the fur, resigning yourself to the travel.

It feels like years pass as you trudge along, boots too worn to protect against the biting cold of the mud. Keep out the nipping frost that comes with early autumn. In the distance you can make out how the forest thickens, becoming denser—darker. Where the fouler creatures lurk, beneath the shadows of thick branches and behind gnarled trunks. A shiver rolls down your spine at the thought of entering. It’s not a friendly place.

“Do we really have to pass through here?” You ask, peering up at the thick tree-line, too little space between each one to be natural. Growing in a dense cluster, all tightly knit and wound in a patterned tangle.

The silver eyed wolf snarls softly, shaking out her mane, shifting upon her great paws—claws clipped at their tips. You take the hint, reluctantly sliding off, ragged boots sinking into the mud. “You pass through on your own,” she growls, not taking another step forward. “This is your journey. Not ours.”

Brows furrow, and you glance to your right, eyes locking with blue-grey. Animal lips part in a wolfish smile, showcasing gleaming white canines. “She’s right,” the wolf says, as gently as possible, a steady gleam in her sharp eyes. “We’ve had our tasks, now you need to complete your own.”

Heart weighs in your chest, again peering up at the looming forest. “I can’t make it through there,” you reason, returning your gaze to the blue-grey eyed wolf. “I don’t have claws, or teeth, or anything like you do.”

Her smile doesn’t fade, just nods to the forest, grin and foreboding. Above you, clouds gather into dark puffs of raw cotton, welling with rivers, rallying their forces.

The forest stretches before you, long and endless. It will be difficult to make out the stars from beneath the stuffy canopies. You’ll have to find a way to peek through the shrubbery in order not to lose your way. What sort of fate would await you were you to become lost? Infinitely walking in lines that never come to an end. Trudging for days on end without ever knowing the correct direction.

But rewards aren’t granted to the idle, and your prize is greater than any. So the trial must fit the goal. Equivalent exchange.

“Don’t lose your head,” the silver-eyed wolf barks, startling you from thought. “Remember, keep the sun to your left. And pay attention to any moss you see.” Swallow, but nod your head, cataloguing the information. “And if you’re ever cornered, there’ll always be another way out,” the wolf to your right reminds. “We don’t make homes without a second exit.”

You nod, awaiting the third voice. Gentle and reassuring.

“What are you waiting for?” The silver-eyed one barks, startling you. “The quicker you start, the sooner it should end.” Nod again, attempting to calm your heart, even out your breathing. Lightly clasp the small pouch of gifts at your hip, the pendant already adorned, twin daggers at your waist.

Begin the trek toward the centre of the forest, having to pass through it’s stomach before reaching the other side.

“Don’t lose your way.”

Picture the way her jaws smile, razor-sharp canines gleaming.

Step forward, swallowed by the thick darkness.

————

You’d been anticipating the lack of light, so it wasn’t much of a bother. The scent was damp, but nothing putrid. It was the weight that had caught you off guard. The bizarre heaviness that pressed down upon your shoulders with every step forward, as if attempting to drive you off-course.

Hours have passed since you last saw the wolves, yet they feel worlds away. Separated by the barrier of consciousness, left entirely to yourself. Confined to solitude. Spend your time counting cocoa coloured conkers, though they’re few and far between.

There are all sorts of oddities to be found, and you occasionally find yourself moving to stray from the path in favour of inspecting something glinting in the near distance. Other times it’s odd noises: the crackling of branches, or the scuffle of paws through leaves. Most unnervingly of all, the hairs at the nape of your neck haven’t lowered since you stepped foot in here, a queer other kind of weight causing your skin to prickle.

It’s lonely and quiet, yet you dare not make excessive noise, some hereditary instinct warning you from sound. Day and night are hard to distinguish, circadian rhythm gradually decomposing under the heavy dampness contained within the forest.

Leaves rustle again, a cold breeze trilling down the pronounced knuckles of your spine, skin slightly hollow, stomach groaning with the bone-deep ache of constant hunger. Eyes dart frenetically about your surroundings, but it’s too dense to see further than the third line of tightly-tangled trees.

Sticks snap to your left, crunching menacingly, the noise swallowed by the forest swiftly. Something could be walking alongside you, but unless it made itself known, you would be none the wiser. All sorts of creatures could be stalking your steps. The sky’s the limit in here.

A twig splinters, and you flinch, jumping back. Peer at the broken branch beneath your foot, laying almost deliberately across the path. Something growls from your left: a low, hushed sound. Ragged and hungry sounding. Desperate for food as you are. Gaze flits about, heart scuttling around your ribcage, arteries tangling to a lethal web. Ears twitch with vigilance, skin pebbling with caution. Nerves droning with warning as they have incessantly for these past few weeks.

“Hello, little lamb.”

Head snaps to the side, stumbling back a few steps as your eyes lock with whiskey and caramel.

A large fox peers from between the trees, snow-soft paws prowling silently as he slowly stalks forward, tall as a horse. Sharp, beady eyes glint with cunning, razor-sharp canines pronounced from his upper lip, snout protruding elegantly from his features. Distinctly vulpine. Six wire-like whiskers stick from his nose, sleek and gracious.

“What are you?” You ask, hand settling over your heart, calming the rapid beat. Finger the pendant at your throat, feeling the cool weight of lead resting atop your collar bones.

The tall fox prowls closer, removing himself from the lining of the trees, circling forward to be positioned in your pathway. “What’s a creature like you doing in a place like this?” He croons. You don’t belong here, his eyes read. Silver flickers in the back of your mind, spine straightening as you pull yourself together. “Just passing through. I’d like to be on my way.”

A cackled rasp drags from the beast’s throat—something that could have been a laugh. “Just passing through,” he repeats back, shifting forward. “A creature like you doesn’t enter the woods unless she has to,” he muses, caramel and whiskey piercing upon your form. “What’s so important you’re risking these depths?”

“A creature like me doesn’t enter the woods unless she knows she can survive,” you counter, flexing your hands at your sides, fingertips sparking. Interest flickers in his gaze, marking the unnatural glow. Colours that belong to the sky, not on earth. He hums absently, now taking in the rest of you: raggedy boots, small pouch at your hip, partially concealed beneath a midnight blue cloak. The pendant at your throat, a reassuring weight.

Become aware of how close he’s gotten, looming before you—dip your hands to your hips, tucking beneath your cape. “I’d like to pass now,” you say firmly, fingers clasping the hilts of the short weapons. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” Make to move around him, but he steps into your way, jaws parting slightly in a gleaming grin.

“I don’t even know your name,” he reminds, “what can I call you?” Lips purse warily, his caramel and whiskey eyes gleaming with cunning. “Blue,” you answer.

“Blue?” He chuckles. “What a curious name.” Razor-sharp canines flash in a grin, snout curling as his lips pull back from his teeth. “You said you’re headed through the forest,” he states, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. “Allow me to join you.”

Brow narrows, fingers grazing the hilts of the short daggers. “I’m fine on my own,” you reply, reassured by the cool weight of the weapons. Animal lips quirk, amusement glittering in his irises. “It’s a dangerous place for a little thing like yourself,” he reminds, prowling from the path, circling around you. “Less than a mouthful for some of the creatures here.” He comes to a stop, peering down his elongated snout, “surely you aren’t naïve enough to turn down an alliance when it’s offered.”

“You’re offering protection?” You ask cautiously, gripping the pearly hilts tighter.

“How astute you are,” he croons.

Nose wrinkles with distain for the mocking tone. “What would you get out of it?” You ask, remembering the warnings you’ve been given. Teeth flash in a charming grin, “I find myself curious to what drives you through my home.” Eyes flick to your hands, no longer sparking with power. “What’s your secret?” He drawls, attention narrowing on your fingertips. “What magic do you possess that could possibly ward off the ancient creatures of the forest?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

Pupils narrow to slits at the challenge, instinct drawing him closer to battle, roaring for a hunt, aching for a brawl. “Daggers, and magic,” he muses, knuckles stiffening beneath your cloak—you thought they’d been concealed. “Close-quarters combat is rather gritty, don’t you find? I can’t imagine a creature like yourself enjoying picking flesh from beneath her nails.” Eyes helplessly flick to his sharp claws—seemingly clean. Swallow thickly. “What are you after?”

The smile turns vulpine, teeth flashing in the grey light. “It’s rare a new piece ascends the board. Natural to wish to inspect something so brand new.”

“I’m not a fool,” you reply calmly, fully gripping the daggers now. “Tell me what you’re really after. I’m not stupid enough to believe you’d offer protection in exchange for company, so what do you want?”

His grin doesn’t fade at the brazen accusation, instead appearing to sharpen. Prowls forward a step, stalking in on your territory. The daggers are free from your waist in an instant, pearly hilts gripped tight in your hands, the golden blades aimed for the great beast before you. “Stay there,” you demand, brandishing the weapons, fingertips sparking.

To your relief he stops in his tracks, hackles raising as they take in the gleam of your skin. “Now that piques my interest,” he drawls. “Your hands glow like the night lights. What else can they do?” He asks, thankfully remaining where he is. “Can they burn like star fire?”

Ease a breath into your lungs, understanding the exchange. “So you keep me protected, and learn about my magic?” His eyes sparkle with trickery, gleaming with guile. “For as long as you keep my interest,” he smiles, canines glittering under grey light. Pause for a while, considering. It’s unwise to enter into packs with these creatures, yet you stand little chance fighting off many of the ancient creatures.

Swallow thickly, then lower your blades. You could swear something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before you can place it. “Fine. But you will truly protect me, and come to my aid should I need it,” you clarify, tacking on the extra details. He offers a charming smile. “Call my name, and I will come bounding,” he adds the fine particular.

Ease out a breath, then give your confirmation. Magic crackles in the air, stinging a circle around the base of the pointer finger on your left hand. A small band has appeared, inking its way in a tight loop. Peer at his own paws, spotting the darkened fur around the thumb of his right fist. The mark connecting you in a bargain.

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s deceiving you. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s probably had innumerable centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Cocoa coloured conkers hang high in the trees, peering down like giant eyeballs as you make the trek through the thick woodland.

The bizarre oddities became less and less frequent, no longer spotting strange, twinkling objects in the near distance, the sounds of other life dwindling, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

Days have passed, and each night he requests a show of your magic. The demonstrations are sparse, anxious not to allow him to look too closely. Whether you would like to admit it or not, he serves as perfect protection against the vast and vile malevolence that rests heavily in the dense air of the forest.

Sounds of muffled conversation float through the leaves, ears perking up. Feet ache from the long journey, a sign night should soon be coming to overlay the skies. Or at least, the time he’s picked for rest. The concept of daylight and sunrises are far off memories, kept for when the woodlands become particularly murky. Soon he’ll be requesting a new trick.

“What is that?” You ask into the silence, beginning to pick out the sounds from one another. The clinking of tea cups, the bubbling of stew, laughter tinkling like wind chimes—so alluring. Beckoning you towards the sounds. “Do you hear something?” He asks, keeping his gaze ahead. It’s mildly unsettling how a beast of his size can move with such stealth, hardly a swish of grass or a stray breeze brushing your ankles as he prowls onward.

“I find myself struggling to believe my hearing would be somehow superior to your own,” you reply, mouth quirking at its corners. His lips twitch above his canines, something you would have initially believed to be the opening movements to a snarl, yet have come understand as signs of amusement. “Tell me what you hear,” he responds instead, keeping his attention on the barely-there pathway.

Brow furrows, but you comply. “It sounds like laughter. From a few different people,” you begin slowly. “It sounds pleasant; jovial. Like they’re having fun.” Listen carefully, distinguishing the echo of metal on ceramic. “I think it’s a dinner party…” He huffs, mirth glittering in his eyes. Glance at him sidelong, scowling slightly, “do you not hear it?” Lips again twitch, some lights winking out in his gaze.

“I haven’t heard anything from this forest in centuries.”

Open your mouth to ask further, but he beats you to it. “We’ll be settling soon. Just a little further.”

“How do you know where good places to stay are?” You ask curiously, eyeing the woodland. “It all looks the same. You can’t possibly have it memorised.”

“What is memory in the face of immortality,” he muses lightly, continuing along the pathway. Feet ache with every step, as if bruises decorate your soles. Heels and toes blistering against the rough leather of the worn boots.

“There are signs, if you know where to look. Patterns of a sort,” he answers.

It takes a moment for you to remember the question, silence having settled in the meantime. Edge your way down the steep slope.

There isn’t much to do in the way of preparation, merely setting aside the small satchel you have, then selecting a root to curl against. His only rule for sleeping is you don’t light fires, so you make do with wrapping the midnight blue cloak tight around your body, and snuggling against the bark of a tree.

“What entertainment do you have planned for tonight?” He asks, settling on his stomach, paws the size of your old cooking instruments stretching before him, claws glittering beneath the stray strands of moonlight that have managed to weave their way through the wild tangle of branches. You shift in the dirt, nerves wriggling beneath the surface of your skin. The trick you’ve thought up is vague enough, but far closer to a raw demonstration than you’re truly comfortable with.

Swallowing, you move closer to him, holding your hands out before meeting his gaze. “This should really count for two nights, you know,” you grumble, palms facing toward one another, as though you were cupping a large vase. His sharp eyes twinkle with interest, snout resting atop a large paw. “Don’t disappoint me now,” he says, teeth flashing, “I might prowl off in the night.” You make a face, gradually having acclimatised to his strange menthols of communication.

Skin itches, fingertips burning faintly as they spark and glow, like frenzied embers of a fire. Soon enough, the green light evens out, no longer flickering. Ease in a deep breath, concentrating, blocking out the way your flesh tingles in response. Lines begin forming in the space between your palms, soft rays of blue-teal floating in the air. They wave gently, swaying languidly, a collection of three strains blowing in an invisible breeze.

Gradually, they increase in strength, growing taller, slimmer; becoming more refined. Compressing until they’re no thicker than leaves, glowing with the light of stars. You allow them to persist for moments longer before breaking the connection, something zapping beneath your fingertips in response, skin desiccated. “That’s all for tonight,” you say, calling his eyes to your own.

He’s silent, observing quietly as you tuck back into yourself, curling against the tree root.

“Come over here,” he calls, snagging your attention.

“What do you want?” You grumble, sighing as you get to your feet, stumbling over to him in the low light.

“Stay close tonight,” he says, eyes closed, resting his head over one of his paws. Your brows narrow, “I wasn’t planning on leaving.” Eyes pointedly flick to the dense forest, looking as unkind as ever.

A single eye cracks open, flicking up to you. Slides over to the tree, then back to you. Then he shifts, wrapping himself into a crescent shape, the kind animals do when they’re on their way to sleep. Snout nudges at your hip, pushing you into his side. Hesitantly, you follow, stepping over his hind legs, settling against the furry side of his stomach, wrapped between his front and back paws.

“This wood is riddled with magic,” he warns, tail wrapping round to meet his snout, sealing you in against his side. “It shows you what you want to see. Plays on your fears, and your hopes. Few things are real where this forest is concerned.”

“I know,” you hum, sinking into his warmth, feeling as familiar as wolf fur.

He huffs lightly, “no, you don’t.”

————

The night is thicker than usual when you wake, the clearing seeming smaller.

Shadows flick at your ankles, the darkness practically beckoning you deeper. They bring a sense of comfort, a home you yearn for, heart aching with desperation to have it.

Silently, as subtly as you can, you sneak from his form, stepping over his paw and tail, keeping your cloak wrapped tight. The cold is already seeping into your toes, but you stand fully, surveying the clearing.

Everything looks the same: the large tree with the gnarled roots, the fox-like creature that’s stilled curled in on himself, even down to the conkers high above.

Yet something’s not right. Plucking the strings of your mind, urging you to move.

Leaves rustle softly, as if disturbed by cat-soft paws, a creature slinking through the undergrowth. Thumb free the the twin daggers at your waist, gripping the pearl handles, gold gleaming dimly beneath the sparse shafts of moonlight. The air sucks at your skin, dry but heavy. Thick.

That strange feeling again washes over you, invisible hands urging you into the woods, to seek deeper. Jaws open to swallow you whole. Heartbeat increases as you step around the great beast, cloak swishing over the dirt, dragging reluctantly as you make your way to the edge of the clearing, peering deep into the forest.

A shadow shifts in the distance, slinking behind a sturdy trunk. Blood thrums in your ears, shadows gathering behind your legs, lulling you into compliance. Peer over your shoulder at the great creature, the band around your second finger itching. He’ll come for you should you encounter trouble. The bargain proves that much.

Inhale a deep breath, straying from the path.

Swallowed by darkness.

Blink warily, feet moving on their own as you step further and further in, digested within the all-consuming darkness. Vision fades in and out, things turning soft at the edges, feeling like you’re dying.

You push on, moving heavily through the forest, abandoning coveted safety for shadows in the night. Noises soothe your ears, reassuring you of your path.

Skin prickles with the weight of a pair of eyes, having you resurface from the haze. In a part you don’t recognise, moved almost unconsciously through the damp undergrowth. No conkers line the trees, and even your eyes struggle in the darkness. Insects crawl under foot, spiders scuttling between the cracks in tree bark, lurking in tiny, unreachable crevices.

Swallow thickly as you turn around, not recognising a thing.

Shadows skitter at your back, and your whirl on your feet, daggers out, their golden blades piercing the darkness.

Breath catches as a shadow emerges from the darkness, heavier than the rest. Begins to take shape, morphing into four, greatly powerful paws, midnight fur thick and silky. Leading up to create the tremendous torso of the beast, corded with muscle, fully grown and thrumming with lethal, sinister power. Leathery wings flare from its back, each peak tipped with a single talon, sharper than any blade you’ve seen. His head is smooth and elegant, distinctly feline, with piercing fangs pushing from his upper lip.

Hazel eyes stare back at you.

Seconds pass, lungs fluttering. Fingers tremble at the pearly hilts of his blades, shaking as you stare longer. Darkness lines his body, alive with tightly coiled tension, the epitome of virulent grace. Wreathed with devastating malignancy.

Vision blurs, weapons thudding dully as they fall from your hands. Take a shaky step forward, then another. Stumbling until you reach him.

Arms wrap up around his neck, tears spilling as you hear the steady beat of his heart. Feel it drumming out its rhythm onto your cheek as you press into his fur, crying heavily as his scent wraps around you. The crisp freshness of nightfall, followed by crystal clear clarity.

He’s here.

Before you.

Bury deeper into him, cloak almost blending you into his fur as his head lowers over your shoulder, soothing the quiet sobs that wrack your chest. Wings fold in tight, inhaling your scent, taking in the familiarity of it— “What is that?”

His question pulls you from your fall, stepping back to peer up into his eyes, so deep you could lose your mind trying to follow to their centre. “What?” You ask, hands resting where his front paws meet his torso, shoulders corded with muscle, unable to fully detach from him.

Nostrils flare, inhaling deeply, nosing at your throat, lowering down your front, lightly nudging at your stomach. Enough you have to yield a step, fingers cooling without his fur to warm you. “You smell of fox,” he says, tersely. Flush beneath his attention, unaccustomed to its piercing weight, looking elsewhere as dry fingers wring together.

“I met one,” you answer quietly, skimming the band on your pointer finger. “He’s kept me safe. So I could come find you.” Something flashes through his eyes as he stares down at you. Shift on your feet, anxiously. “He’s helped.”

The beast recoils slightly, taking a step back.

Attention snaps to him, locking with marginally widened eyes. Then they narrow, staring down at you. “This is your task,” he says, coldly, “you’re supposed to complete it on your own.” Peer up at him, taking a step forward, hands raising from your sides. He stiffens, but doesn’t move back. “I am,” you say desperately, “he’s just company. He’s not— I am doing this on my own.”

Shakes his head. “This is your journey,” he mutters, “not his.”

Vision tilts suddenly, a searing pain lacerating through your mind, as if someone’s taken a scalpel to your brain. Breathing becomes heavier as you press your fingers to your temples, colours blurring in and out, even as time passes in this state of unconscious.

“Foxes are dangerous,” he reminds gruffly. “They eat things like you. You mustn’t trust him.” Shake your head in denial, desiccated skin rasping as you wring your fingers together. “Not this one,” you try, peering up at him. “We have a deal. He can’t hurt me.” Hold up your left hand for him to see, ink clear despite the thick darkness that surrounds the two of you.

Hazel flecks with disgust, picking out the brand upon your index finger. “You bargained with that beast?” He hisses, backing up a step. Pain stings through your heart, guilt twisting in your gut. “No, you don’t understand. He offered me protection,” you manage, scared if you take another step forward, he’ll vanish out of repulsion. Leave you alone in the depths of the wood.

Alone and astray.

Lost.

Opens his mouth, but pain splits through your eyes, singeing flesh, charring skin. The forest presses in on you, crushing your mind beneath its cloying pressure. Time jerks forward, splitting you further from him, the small gap between you stretching to something painful.

You blindly stumble forward, hands outstretched as he’s pulled away, kept just out of reach of your desperate palms. Mud seeps into your boots, slippery cold freezing your toes, dirtying the midnight blue of your cloak. Tears spill as your heart spikes, unable to do anything but continue tripping over yourself in your haste to catch up to him.

The world flips, momentarily slipping out from under you as it switches with the sky, vision flickering in and out. The world grows fainter, like you’re being forcefully ripped away from something.

Pain stings deeper, striking at the soft, tender chambers of your heart.

Hazel eyes grow wide, pupils contracting as—

Lips part in a silent groan of pain, a metallic smell bursting across your conscious.

Green light flares, searing through the darkness, blazing from your hands as screams tear through the heavy blanket of night.

You stare down at your body, up from high in a tree, suspended from a branch above. The beasts lies still on the floor, skin steadily cooling. Silky black fur dampens upon the forest ground, breath rattling from his maw, wet rasping, gurgling in the night. Hands grasp and prod, fingers splaying in attempts to keep him together as he drains away in your lap.

The world flickers again, flashing in and out of sense until you’re slammed back into your body.

Skin feels sticky, hands cold and damp.

Images spark in and out of existence, surroundings dancing about you in a blurry taunt. A few stick out: a grassy slope, mist thick up the steep hill, the rocky face so sheer you’re forced to hands and knees to make the climb.

A clearing wreathed in web, moonlight spearing through the leaves, tiny blue spiders dripping from the canopy, fluttering along an invisible breeze.

A looming gate, constructed of bone, oozing malice, contained within the claws of something ancient and wicked.

Flashing over and over again: steep hill, swollen blue abdomen, brittle grey bone.

Lifeless hazel.

————

Sweat gleams, jerking from the night terror.

Lilac cotton slicked to sallow skin, soaked in cold dampness.

Silky hair cascades over shoulders, falling in rattails from terror.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

#Azriel #azriel x reader #Azriel angst #CBMTHY #CBMTWY #Halloween #Halloween special #Azriel x reader angst #acotar #acotar au #CBMTHY au (kinda)#Alice in wonderland #the hobbit #🌌🌠

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duskcowboy · 6 months

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★·.·´¯`·.·★ Feysand x Sailor Moon ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Feysand Month | Alternate Universe

Thought this was the perfect day to share this piece I’ve been working on! In honor of Feysand Month and Halloween, I present Feyre and Rhys as Princess Serenity and Prince Endymion 💫

I’m really proud of this one 🥹 hope you all like it too!! 🫶🏼

#feysand #feysand fanart #sailor moon #acotar halloween #acotar #acotar fanart #acomaf #acowar #acosf #feyre archeron fanart #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhysand fanart #feyre x rhysand

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 7 months

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As Halloween is getting closer I was thinking about which costume suits whom. For me Azriel and Cassian are clear - vampire and worewolf and nobody can convince me otherwise 🤗

One of these two, Lucien and Eris, could be kitsune. Or both.

But here comes a real dilemma:

What about Rhysand? Reaper? Headless horseman? Demon? I can't come with anything suitable. What do you think would suit his character the best? I'm really curious.

#halloween #halloween costumes #acotar #acotar halloween #what do you think?#im curious #azriel #cassian #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #rhysand #vamp az #werewolf cass

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artsbygih · 6 months

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the (fae)ntom of the opera

#fanart #book fanart #artsbygih #acotar #acotar fanart #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand #rhysand fanart #halloween #phantom of the opera

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theladyofdeath · 6 months

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Anxious & Bewitched {nessian}

Ship: Nesta x Cassian Summary: College AU; Nesta loses a bet and has to go on a date with Cassian to a haunted corn maze. T/W: None; Fluff

Written with @snelbz

As Nesta opened the passenger side door and dropped from the cab of the truck, a chill breeze had her tucking her hands into the folds of her thick sweater.

The driver-side door closed behind her and she took a deep breath.

She had no reason to be nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t the first time they’d hung out together, wasn’t even the first time it’d just been the two of them, without the rest of their friends. But this time… This time was different.

He appeared around the front of the truck. “I told you I’d come around to get your door.”

Reigning in the urge to roll her eyes, Nesta muttered, “Yeah, well, you were taking too long.”

He laughed, as he always did when he was clearly exasperated by her. She wondered if somewhere, deep down inside, Cassian secretly wanted to throttle her instead of being amused by her annoyance. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Most girls—” With one look shot in his direction, Cassian stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Like corn mazes,” he finished, even though she knew damn well that wasn’t what he was going to say. “Do you?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t think anyone really enjoys corn mazes. We all just do them because it’s a tradition.”

“Glad to see you’re excited,” he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the ticket booth. “I hope you don’t get scared too easily. They say this is the scariest maze in the county.”

Nesta glanced at the setting sun, barely still in existence. She gave it fifteen minutes before they were in complete darkness. “Do I seem like someone who gets scared easily?”

They reached the front of the line, which saved Cassian from having to answer the loaded question and headed for where the festivities would be starting as soon as the sun fully set behind Ramiel in the distance.

“So,” Nesta began as she looked around at the stands and vendors around them. “I believe the stipulations were one dinner and one trip through the corn maze.”

“And apple cider after the maze,” Cassian reminded her with a wink. The bet they’d made last week over whether Azriel or Elain would earn a higher score on their English lit midterm had won Cassian a date with Nesta, after over a year of rejections. He would make it count.

Nesta’s dramatic sigh was mostly for show as she said, “Right, how could I forget? Where do we start?”

“Dinner?” He asked, gesturing to the stalls they paused before.

Chili, soup, and roasted chicken legs; kettle corn, funnel cake, and, of course, hot cider. The options were limitless and as Nesta’s stomach rumbled hungrily, she realized her appetite was as well. “I could eat.”

After a quick discussion over what they each wanted and whether or not it would count as a date if they weren’t eating the same thing, Cassian led Nesta to an open picnic table, placing her bowl of hearty tomato soup in front of her as she sat down. Rather than taking the seat across from her, Cassian sat next to her, the heat of his thigh against hers as he took a bite out of the massive chicken leg he’d decided on.

He ate like an animal and Nesta hated to admit that she found it oddly attractive.

Nonetheless, she said, “You eat like a barbarian.”

“I eat like a man,” he corrected and nodded towards her soup. “Are you going to pretend to sip that thing like a lady instead of devouring it like you want to?”

The word devour from his lips sent a chill down her spine. She’d read too much smut.

And yes, yes she was.

Nesta took her sweet time sipping her soup, just to spite him. He was finished in less than a minute but he waited patiently for her once his food was long gone.

Half an hour passed before Nesta’s bowl was empty and by that time, the moon and the stars were shining brightly in the night sky. Cassian took care of their garbage and clapped his hands together as Nesta stood from the picnic table.

“Ready?”

She sighed, even as a whirlwind of anxiety and excitement swelled in the pit of her stomach. “I guess I don’t have a choice, right?”

His grin was intoxicating as he said, “Not at all.”

They lined up behind a group of high school students, Cassian recognizing the green and silver of their letterman jackets from the next town over, and sat in companionable silence as the teenagers planned how they’d make their way through the maze. They discussed who would lead, who was too scared and would walk in the middle, and who would bring up the rear, making sure those people from the middle wouldn’t fall behind.

Before they knew it, the excited giggles of the group became shrieks and howls of laughter as they meandered deeper into the maze.

Then it was their turn.

“After you, Nes,” Cassian said, gesturing to the long walkway ahead of them. It faded into nothing but darkness and he swore he heard her swallow before she turned to him.

“I don’t think so. This was your idea, so you get to go in first.”

The attendant rolled his eyes and held an arm out toward the entrance. “I’ve got a line and you’re backing it up. You can go in together.”

Nesta opened her mouth to protest but Cassian took her by the hand and pulled her into the maze. Before she could even catch her breath, they were enveloped in corn stalks, the shrieks and screams of others radiating around them.

Nesta’s body grew taut, so much so that she hadn’t even realized that her hand was still in Cassian’s until they turned their first corner.

“So,” he began, and she could see his smirk in the outline of the starlight, “not scared, huh?”

“I swear to the Cauldron, I will leave right now if you don’t shut up.” The words rushed out of her. She took a deep breath, then another. “I’m not scared. I’m just—”

A guy dressed as a bloodied up zombie jumped out of the cornstalks and Nesta screamed.

But it was Cassian that jumped nearly a foot in the air, a long string of profanity tumbling from his mouth.

Nesta stared at him.

Cassian, chest heaving, stared back.

Then, despite herself, Nesta laughed.

With an exasperated sigh, Cassian took Nesta’s hand again and dragged her away from the still snarling zombie.

“Holding my hand a little tight there, aren’t you?” She asked, once they had moved farther into the maze. He could hear the smile on her face, but didn’t look at her as they surged forward. “Don’t worry, Cass, I’ll keep you safe.”

A twig snapped at their backs and Nesta whirled, turning to face the…empty path behind them. Her eyes darted around, searching despite not seeing anyone or anything there.

A terrified scream from somewhere deeper within the maze had Nesta gasping and clutching onto Cassian’s arm with her free hand.

“I could say the same for you,” he snapped, and cursed when the sound of a chainsaw began to rev from somewhere in the maze. “I��m having a blast.”

“Me too,” she hissed, grounding herself in the warmth of his body. She had never felt so annoyed and so safe at the same time. Maybe if she closed her eyes, this whole experience would be so much more enjoyable.

Ignoring the fact that she was clinging to Cassian for dear life, Nesta continued to make her way through the maze, wishing she was literally anywhere else every time they came to a dead end.

They had just gotten away from a psycho in a hockey mask when Cassian said, “I have no clue how to get out of here.”

Nesta looked down the creepy pathways before them. “I don’t either. Isn’t there some trick to getting out of mazes?”

Snapping his fingers, Cassian took her hand and began pulling her down the path to the right. “Right turns only.”

The psycho in the hockey mask was waiting around the next turn with the rest of his team.

“Why do you even like this stuff?” Cassian demanded as they stopped to catch their breath, warily looking around at the corn stalks, waiting for someone to jump out at them.

“I don’t,” Nesta replied, peeking around the corner, cringing at whatever she saw. “I hate it.”

When there was no response, Nesta glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting him to be gone. Instead, she found him staring at her.

“What do you mean you hate it,” he asked, eyes on hers.

“I mean, I hate getting scared,” she snapped, looking back around the corner. “Slashers and horror movies are the extent of my interest in being scared.”

He muttered under his breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

With her brow furrowed, Nesta turned to find him shaking his head. “Who?”

“Feyre, but I’m sure it was Rhys’s idea, too.” He stepped up behind her, finally seeing the clown standing in the middle of the path and stepped back. “When I asked her for an idea of what you’d want to do, she said you’d love this. That you love haunted houses.”

Nesta tried her best not to gape but couldn’t help herself. “She said what?”

Cassian just shook his head, dragging Nesta past the creepy ass clown.

“You don’t like this, either?” She asked, when he said nothing. Cassian just shook his head, and Nesta scoffed. “Wow.”

“Being scared pisses me off,” he admitted. “Which, your sister knows.”

A realization hit Nesta as they turned yet another corner: he hated being scared, but he brought her here anyway.

Because he thought she would love it.

She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until a second clown popped out of the stalks and Cassian’s hand gripped onto hers so tightly that it hurt.

Nothing else was said until they reached the end of the maze, just a few minutes later. There were no other big scares, nothing else to take any additional years off of Cassian’s life and he wished his sigh of relief when they finally walked out into the open air of the festival wasn’t as loud as it was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, beyond thankful that the entire ordeal was over and he’d made it out alive.

“Alright,” he said, exhaling one last time and looking towards the stalls. He’d seen someone selling hot cider when they’d first gotten here. “I could go for some cider. Honestly, I’m down for something stronger, if you are, but—”

A tug on his hand had him leaning down and then a warm kiss was pressed to his cheek.

For a moment, he stilled, thinking what had happened hadn’t just happened, but when he met her gaze, she almost looked as surprised as he was. Her eyes were wide and hesitant, glancing hectically between his eyes and his mouth. Cassian swallowed, scared to say or do anything to break whatever the hell was going on here.

“Thank you,” she said, quietly but firmly, eyes locked on his.

“For what?” he asked, blinking. “You were miserable.”

“So were you,” she agreed, and shook her head. “So, thank you.”

“I wanted you to have a good time,” he admitted, brushing his fingers against hers. “I didn’t want you to regret having said yes.”

Her fingers grazed his again, but then she laced them together. “Technically, I didn’t have a choice, since I did lose a bet after all,” she said, voice taking on a teasing tone before dropping back into something softer as she smiled. “But I’m glad I came. I’m glad I said yes, Cassian.”

She glanced down at their joined hands, squeezing his fingers once before she met his gaze. His eyes were already on her and he couldn’t help but stare in awe at how beautiful she was.

Blushing, Nesta cleared her throat. “So. You owe me a drink.”

Cassian hesitated. “Cider? Or…”

“Something stronger may be nice.” Nesta breathed a laugh and Cassian couldn’t help but smile. “Something to take the edge off.”

Cassian couldn’t deny that. He could use the same thing, something to take the edge off. “There’s a bar two miles up the road. I think it’s a biker bar, but it seems… Well, I’ll keep you safe.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Maybe I’m the one to keep you safe.”

Cassian sighed. “You can’t ever just say okay, can you?”

Nesta pretended to think about it. “No.”

Yet, with a wicked smile, she dragged him by his hand to the parking lot - which was nothing more than a field marked off with rope - until they were at his truck. Still holding her hand, Cassian opened the passenger side door and helped Nesta up inside before rounding the truck and climbing up behind the wheel.

The ride to the corn maze had been okay. Conversation had been awkward. Not bad, but a little forced. The ride to the bar was nothing like that. It was brief, but by the time Cassian put the truck in park and cut the engine, he had Nesta dabbing at her eyes as she laughed at a story he was telling her about a prank he and Azriel had pulled on Rhys when they were in high school.

“To this day, he can’t stand the smell of tartar sauce,” he said, shaking his head as unbuckled his seatbelt.

She did the same, laughter still shaking her shoulders. “I don’t blame him, I don’t think I can think of it the same way either.”

With a grin, he opened the door, hopping down and rounded the truck. When he opened her door, he offered her his hand. “You waited this time.”

Her cheeks darkened just a bit, but her eyes sparkled as she said, “Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to take your chance to be a gentleman away.”

“Again,” he added.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Again.”

After taking his hand, Nesta hopped down from the cab and he locked the truck behind them as they made their way inside the bar. It was pretty busy but they managed to find a little table tucked into the back.

“What’re you drinking?” Cassian asked after Nesta plopped onto the bench.

Nesta lifted a brow. “Surprise me.”

Cassian chuckled. “You trust me that much?”

“We’re about to find out,” Nesta crooned.

Suddenly nervous, Cassian made his way to the bar and waited for the bartender to find her way towards him. He took the time to decide what drink best represented Nesta Archeron.

In the end, he returned to the table with two drinks and two shot glasses.

“What’d you get?” She asked, eyeing the drinks as she set them on the table.

“Jack and Coke,” he said, hovering his hand over the first. Then the second. “Vodka cranberry.” Then he slid one of the shot glasses in front of her and took the other himself. “And a shot of tequila for us both, in case you hate either of those.”

Grinning, she looked back at the drinks. “And if I want the Jack?”

“Then it looks like I’ll be having a pink drink tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta nudged the Jack and Coke closer to him and took the other. “I like both, but this is my favorite.” She picked up the shot glass and held it out to him. “Cheers.”

Clinking his glass against hers, Cassian tossed it back, before placing it top down on the table. He did his best not to make a face, but found himself chasing his shot with his drink. Blowing out a brisk breath, he asked, “So am I to assume that haunted corn mazes aren’t a part of your yearly Halloween traditions?”

Nesta shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “Absolutely not. I’ve never even been to a haunted house. Feyre and Elain used to try and get me to take them in high school, before they could drive, but I’ve never liked it.”

“Me either.” He drummed his fingers on the table next to his drink. “Why would I want to pay someone to scare me shitless?”

With a laugh, Nesta agreed. “What about you? Anything you do for Halloween every year?”

“Pumpkin carving. Hands down.”

Nesta scrunched her nose.

Cassian blinked. “Do you have…an issue with pumpkin carving?”

“It’s so messy,” she said, sipping from her drink. “And I hate the feeling of all the guts between my fingers. No, thank you.”

Cassian shakes his head, eyes narrowed in her direction. “What kind of person hates pumpkins? Who hurt you?”

“I like pumpkins.” Nesta laughed. “I just like them intact.”

“You’re missing out,” he said, and his toe nudged hers until the table and lingered. “Maybe you should give it another try. Maybe you’ve done it wrong.”

“You’re very passionate about carving pumpkins,” Nesta chuckled.

“I prefer calling it pumpkin art, but yes I am.”

Nesta laughed again and Cassian stared at her in awe. It was nice to see her laugh, smile, be happy instead of glaring daggers in his direction.

He looked away from her, his finger circling the rim of his glass. “You could come over, one night this week, if you wanted. We could carve a couple pumpkins. I’ll handle the guts, all you’d have to do is the fun part.”

Raising her eyebrows, Nesta asked, “And what exactly is the fun part? The stabbing?”

“That and realizing that what you carved looks absolutely nothing like what you planned.”

With a snort, Nesta asked, “I thought you said it was pumpkin art?”

“I did,” he replied with a shrug, but the corner of his mouth was lifted up in a smirk. “But I never said it was good art.”

Tipping her head back, Nesta laughed. When she was done, she brought her glass to her lips and took a drink. “I’d love that.”

Cassian was almost shocked by her revelation. “Yeah?” She nodded but Cassian tried not to get his hopes up too much. “How about Wednesday?”

Nesta slowly set her glass back down. For a second, she hesitated, but then she said, “I can do Wednesday.”

Nearly dropping his glass, Cassian stared across the table. She was not only on a date with him now, but agreed to another in only a few days time.

Either he was dreaming…or she was already drunk.

Maybe a bit of both.

After a few more drinks, Cassian glanced at the clock over the bar and saw that it was pushing midnight. “We should probably go. You said you work at nine?”

With a groan, Nesta nodded. She worked at the library on campus and the librarian was not lenient about tardiness and attendance. “Bright and early.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Cassian stood. “I’ll pay our tab and we can get out of here.”

By the time he returned, Nesta had finished her drink and was slipping her purse over her head.

His hand fell to the small of her back as they left, the crack of pool balls and droning of the jukebox in the corner fading as they walked out the front door.

As soon as they were outside, Nesta shivered. “It’s definitely fall,” she said, tucking her hands under her arms.

With a laugh, Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side, not letting himself second guess the move. “It’s almost like you should have worn that coat I mentioned when I picked you up.”

“I’d rather be cold than admit defeat,” she joked, but Cassian sensed there was a bit of truth to it, even as she leaned further into him. “Besides, you seem to like my lack of a coat.”

He did. “I wouldn’t like it if you were to die of hypothermia.”

Nesta snorted. “Once again, look who's being overdramatic.”

She let him open her door and help her into the truck, before it roared to life and he headed back into Velaris. On the ride back to her apartment, Nesta admitted she’d never been to a high school football game, much to Cassian’s dismay.

“What did you even do on Friday nights?” He demanded, glancing over at her as they stopped at a red light.

“Stayed in and read.” She said it like it should have been obvious, and honestly, it probably should have been.

“We’ll have to fix that, too,” Cassian said, just as the light turned green. “There’s nothing like being under those lights, the sounds of the game.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “There’s also nothing like curling up in bed with a good book.”

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You can’t tell me that reading is better than a real life experience.”

“Football is not a real life experience,” Nesta protested but that playfulness in her tone remained. “It’s a sport where people are either getting injured or praised way too much. Sometimes both.”

Cassian looked over to find her already watching him with the smallest of grins on her mouth. “So hateful.”

“I could say the same for you,” she crooned.

“Fine,” Cassian laughed. “You come with me to a game and I’ll read whatever book you give me.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta asked, “Whatever book I give you? Any book of my choosing?”

“I already feel like I’m going to regret this, but yes.” Cassian pulled into the parking lot of Nesta’s building. “Any book of your choosing, as much or as little smut as you want.”

Nesta’s cheeks darkened. “I’ll start thinking then.”

He put the truck into park, looking over at her. “I can’t wait.”

The cab of the truck was silent, as her eyes met his. It felt quiet, intimate, safe. Softly, like speaking too loudly would shatter whatever was building between them, Nesta said, “I had fun tonight. Despite getting the shit scared out of me.”

“Me too,” Cassian agreed, hardly more than a whisper. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

The realization that Cassian had no idea what to do was daunting. He had never had trouble with women before but Nesta was a different breed. He’d waited years for this moment and now that it was here, he felt he was walking on glass and it would shatter beneath him at any given moment.

Nesta cleared her throat when the silence dragged on. “Should I get my door this time or…?”

That set Cassian in motion and by the time he rounded the truck and opened her door, she was doing her best — and failing — to hide her grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, taking her hand and helping her down.

Her laughter was quiet, but she didn’t let go of his hand as they headed up the stairs and to her door.

“So I’ll come over Wednesday?” She asked, and it was more than Cassian could have hoped for. He’d half expected her to change her mind, to pretend she forgot, and move on.

“Yes, I mean, yeah.” He was stumbling over his words and he cleared his throat. “I’ve got a bio chem lab that lets out at three, but I’m free anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll be there after three,” she said.

Cassian's hand tightened in hers as they stood on her doormat. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” With one last smile that had Cassian feeling weak, Nesta turned towards her door.

Before he could think twice, Cassian pulled on her hand and pulled her towards him until their mouths met, softly. He was still walking that line of caution even if caution was the last thing on his mind.

But she kissed him back, each touch sweet and gentle and nothing like he expected a kiss with her to be like, but far better.

He cupped her face, her lips soft and lush against his, and breathed in her scent before stepping back. The blush on her cheeks was beautiful, her eyes bright, and her breathing was shallow and quick. He wanted to kiss her again, something more than the quick meeting of their lips, but he forced himself to take another step back, to head towards his truck. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said, gaze locked on hers.

“Wednesday,” she repeated, voice soft, and unlocked her door. It opened with a creak and she stepped inside. “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The door closed and he was left staring at her autumn-themed wreath. So soft, there was no way she could have heard it, he breathed, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

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