#feyre acheron | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 4 months

Text

Wicked Games

Assassin!Reader x Poly!Feysand

Author's note: This is my first self-insert and first smut, wanted to try something new for a change. Not proof-read, we die like men.

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

This mission was supposed to be simple, quick. In and out, cut and dry, the job coming in like all the others: A manila envelope under your door, no markings, the target and order inside. That was how it had always been, how it always would be, it was the only thing you knew to be true. So how in the Seven Hells had you ended up here? The High Lord leaned against the wall, his well pressed shirt open half way down his chest, the swirl of Illyrian ink in stark contrast to his bronze skin, so casual in the face of what should have been his own demise. Worse, the High Lady, perched atop the desk, her bare legs bouncing against the wood as she kicked her feet almost giddily. Neither of them looked displeased with the fact that you had been sent there to kill them. In fact, you were quite sure the infamous Curse Breaker was laughing at you as you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. They hadn't even tied you down! It was starting to feel like an insult, they way they'd simply ushered you in here and asked you to sit like you'd come in for a meeting and not for the poison you'd slipped into their wine minutes before.

"It was a valiant effort, really," said Rhysand as he pushed away from the wall and came to stand behind you.

It was impossible not to be aware of the sheer power of him when he was this close. It was like a dropping a stone into a pond, the ripple of star-kissed power brushing steadily against you. You'd been around powerful males your whole life, had been trained to kill many of them, but none had ever felt like this. He was the shadow of a thought in your mind, a brush of darkness against your skin, you could practically taste jasmine and citrus.

Feyre was no better as she placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward to get a better look at you. The dress she wore was cut low, the neckline plunging towards her midsection, accentuating every curve when she sat like that. Power radiated off her, not just Night, but something other, as if something beyond the power of the High Lords prowled beneath her skin.

"Not many people dare try," she said with a grin. She'd been the one to catch you. It had been a mistake going for her first, you could see that clearly now. The decision to spike their wine and than disguise yourself as their new cupbearer was already a risky move, but you liked to be absolutely sure the job was done, and done right. And Feyre hadn't taken her throne, she had been perched in Rhysand's lap, kissing his neck and whispering in his ear as she drank cup after cup. You'd thought she would be too drunk to notice the change in taste, too caught up in the revelry to even notice that you were not their usual cup bearer. You had been very, very wrong. She hadn't even gone in for a sip, had somehow been using her public display of affection to distract from the fact that she'd slipped right into your mind and seen exactly what you had done. And still, she could have killed you right there, could have summoned water or flames or ice and you'd heard she could do and taken you out in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares. But she'd gotten out of Rhysand's lap, stumbling on heels you thought were too tall for her, and thrown an arm around your shoulder, whispering in your ear that she needed your help finding the bathroom--and knocking the spiked drinks out of your hands in the process. It was very clear to you now that she had never been drunk in the first place.

Neither of them were anything like the report you'd gotten.

"I-" what was there to say? Words felt useless.

Rhysand leaned down, resting the bulk of his weight on the back of the chair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "So who do I get to thank for sending you?"

You shivered at his proximity, at his warm breath over the shell of your ear. Not many people dared to get this close to you; not many people got the better of you like this either. This was certainly a lot of firsts.

When you gave no response, Feyre said, "Don't be shy."

They were likely to rip the answer right out of your skull with those terrifying daemati powers if you kept your mouth shut, or worse, summon that Shadowsinger you'd seen lurking around the halls earlier. "I don't know."

Rhysand made a disappointed sound from where he still hovered by your ear. You refused to try and turn to look at him, refused to acknowledge that you had even heard him.

Feyre jumped off the top of the desk, her stilettoes clicking against the polished marble floors. "Now, now, don't make this difficult for yourself."

"Your secret is safe with us," Rhysand said mockingly.

"I don't know! I get my orders in the mail. There's never a return address or signature."

"Where's the mail?"

"I burned it."

"Well in that case," his voice was the only warning before you felt something scrape against your mental shields. You tried to throw more walls up as a talon slashed across your mind, but it was not Rhysand that slipped past, but Feyre, quick and quite as the huntress they said she used to be. She laughed as she sprinted through your memories, all attempts at shielding useless as Rhysand kept poking at what little shields you had up to distract you. They were the perfect team, synced to perfection, each move calculated and sharpened.

Feyre stepped into the memory of you opening the envelope as simply as if she had stepped through a doorway. The memory unfolded for her, you saw your own hands break the seal, open the letter, and burn it in a flash, before reality broke back through. You shook your head, fighting the memory away like it was a spot in your eye.

"That handwriting looked familiar, didn't it, Darling," Rhysand purred, the low timber of his voice rumbling in your ear.

"How thoughtful of Keir to give us an Anniversary gift," Feyre returned.

Keir. You only knew the stories about him, what a horrible male he was. You'd been lucky to have not been born in the Court of Nightmares like your mother, had grown up only with the tales of what kind of place this was. Your mother had protected you for as long as she could, but when Amarantha had come, when war bands had fought and bickered over land in the little territory she and your father had managed to make for themselves... well, they were gone and you'd had to find a way to survive, but you hadn't forgotten those stories. Your stomach twisted. This job had never been easy, but it had never been for males like Kier. At least, you'd never thought so.

You must have looked surprised because Feyre put two manicured fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at you. Something wicked gleamed in those strikingly blue eyes and you quickly blurted, "I swear I didn't know! I needed the money, I didn't know the job was from him."

"We believe you," she said. "But I think you should prove you're worth letting go."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'll do anything!"

Rhysand chuckled at that. "Anything?"

The suggestiveness in the question made you shiver, more so when the High Lady broke into a grin. That couldn't be a good sign.

"I want to see Keir sweat a little, don't you dear?" Feyre asked over your head to her mate.

"More than just a little, I should think."

This felt like a fever dream, everything a little distorted and muffled. Perhaps it was. You had hit your head pretty hard on your last mission. How else could you explain what was happening here?

"Stand," Feyre ordered.

You did as you were told, even if you were biting the inside of your cheek.

"So responsive," Rhysand said, more to Feyre than you.

You frowned at that.

Feyre stepped closer to you, settling her hands on your hips. There was no room to twist away as her mate settled in behind you, the heat radiating off him seeping through your shirt. They even moved in perfect sync.

Nowhere to run now.

"You're going to play our favorite game with us."

Game? The reports hadn't said anything about them liking games.

"I don't understand-"

Rhysand cut you off, "Just follow our lead."

Feyre gave your hips a squeeze, "It's fun, trust me."

You didn't know what this had to do about proving you had made a mistake in taking this job, but you didn't know what other choice you had, so you just nodded.

They led you back into the throne room, the night's revelry still in full swing. Near the back, where the tables were still piled high with food, was Keir, the aging steward speaking conspiratorially with some of the other high ranking officials of the Court. Did he know already that you had failed? If he did, he didn't show it. He didn't so much as look up from his conversation.

Something hot twisted in your stomach at the sight of him. How could you have taken a job for a male like him?

Feyre pulled your thoughts away from him as she pulled you over to the dais, where their thrones sat empty. Even though Keir wasn't paying attention, others in the crowd were.

You swallowed thickly as Rhysand slid into his rightful seat, looking every bit the High Lord he was. Feyre didn't resume her seat in his lap, however, this time she perched on the arm rest, and guided you into her former place.

Your cheeks heated, mouth dry as the High Lord looped a strong arm around your waist and positioned you more comfortable on his lap, one long leg slotting between your own.

Feyre chucked at your obvious embarrassment. "Now now, you said you'd do anything." She said into your mind.

You dared a glance at her. This wasn't what you'd meant!

"This game is much more fun if you relax," Rhys purred as he dragged his nose over your throat looking for a place to sink his teeth.

You shivered despite yourself, the warmth of him seeping into you.

Feyre gripped your chin in her hand, forcing your gaze away from where it had wandered into the crowd. Keir still wasn't paying attention, but more and more people were halting their dancing and drinking to leer at this new pet their High Lord and Lady had brought back with them.

"Eyes on us."

Rhysand's hand slid over your hip and down to your thigh. The servant's garb you'd borrowed was a thin pair of pants, and a large, hooded sweater, not the sexy, revealing gown the High Lady donned, but you still couldn't help but feel incredibly vulnerable in this position.

How were you supposed to know what to do? How was this proving you could be trusted not to take another job from Keir? Was that fool even looking this way?

Rhysand nipped at the underside of your jaw and you jumped, thoughts careening away from Keir and whatever he was doing. The High Lord's breath was warm on your neck, each nip he left along your jaw sending shivers down your spine. It was an effort to keep your eyes open, to not immediately tilt your head back against his shoulder and let him explore every inch of you as you submitted fully to him. He could make you, if he wanted, it would be all too easy for him to reach inside your mind and move you however he wanted. You'd be a liar if you said the thought didn't excite you. The thought of handing yourself over to someone with that kind of power, testing to see what they'd do with it was more tempting than you'd ever dare say aloud. And maybe the High Lady had heard those thoughts, because a moment later, she was threading her hands through your hair and tilting your head back to let Rhysand explore further.

You whimpered softly as he ran his tongue over your pulse point and then Feyre was leaning in and nipping at the other side of your neck. It was too much at once, the overwhelming scent and warmth of them had you leaning fully into Rhysand's shoulder, eyes closing. One of their hands slid under your shirt, stroking at your side, you thought it might be Feyre, but didn't dare open your eyes to look, lest this really be a dream and you'd awake alone.

"Good girl," Rhysand praised. Somehow, even in your head his voice was low and husky. His hand slid further up your thigh, testing as he drew closer to your core. The move had you squirming and Feyre responded by dragging her hand from underneath your shirt to hold your hips down. There was no escaping either of them.

You still weren't sure how you ended up in this position, but you no longer cared. All you knew was this, them, and how much more of them you needed. Distantly you wondered if this was some daemati trick, if they had slipped into your mind and convinced you to do this. You decided you didn't care if they had, not as Feyre's lips were on yours, her tongue sliding past your teeth. There wasn't a hint of wine on her lips, despite all you'd seen her drink earlier. How she did that was anyone's guess.

Rhys drew circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingers, teasing you now as he continued to nip at your throat. There'd be marks in the morning, of that you were certain.

Feyre broke apart abruptly, laughing as you chased after her. "I think she likes this game of ours."

"Shall we play some more?"

You could play it all night if they wanted. There was something intoxicating about the two of them that had you desperate for any scrap of affection they could give you.

"Yes!" You said it faster than you intended, a blush creeping it's way back up your cheeks as you realized how pathetic it sounded, especially to two high fae. "Please."

Feyre leaned over you to kiss Rhys this time, intentionally pressing herself forward so her chest brushed up against you. You arched up to press your lips against her collar bones, too scared to go lower. She hummed approvingly into Rhy's mouth and he rewarded you by dragging his hand the rest of the way up your thigh, cupping your core through your pants. You were desperate for friction now, grinding your hips into his palm, even as your lips continued to work of Feyre's collarbones. She smelled so good! Her skin soft under your lips. You wanted the time to run your lips over the smattering of freckles she'd gotten while hunting in the summer time.

Rhys' free hand slid into your hair, pulling tight as he whispered in your ear, "No marks on your High Lady. Not without my permission, understand?"

If you were of any sound mind you might have been tempted to scrape your teeth across her throat, just to see what he would do, but you knew you weren't lucky enough to get away with it after everything that had happened already. "Yes, sir."

His dark laugh rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. This was a very dangerous game, far more dangerous than any assassination attempt had ever been. Dangerous, because, for once, you were enjoying it and enjoying anything in this line of work got you in trouble.

Feyre leaned back, out of your reach, and still held by Rhys' arm around your waist, it was impossible to reach out after her. Especially now that the High lord had decided he didn't like the article of clothing between his hand and you, and was reaching for the waistband of your pants.

The blush returned tenfold. This--touching, kissing, in front of all these people was one thing, but that?

The High Lady pouted as she looked at you, her eyes lust-blown, so dark you almost couldn't see the blue. "I think you have too much on."

Before you could contemplate what that meant, she snapped her fingers and your sweater disappeared entirely.

You tried to move to cover yourself, squirming now, and she grabbed your hands with a disapproving tut. "No hiding."

Rhys' hand had slid inside your waistband, so close again your hips rocked forward, searching for him without conscious thought, even as your face heated. There was a fine line between your pleasure and sheer mortification and somehow you were still teetering between the two, torn between wanting more and wanting to sink into the floor and disappear. The crowd was watching, or at least you were pretty sure they were, at this point you were too scared to look and kept your gaze glued to where the High Lord and Lady were touching you.

"So pretty," Feyre hummed as she moved your hands up and around Rhys' neck.

There was no hiding what they were doing to you now. You might have fought them harder if Rhys' hand wasn't finally where you wanted him so desperately, a finger sliding easily into you. Your jaw dropped, a strangled sound coming out of you.

"So wet," he teased, mind to mind. "All this for us, pet?"

Pet. Toy. The High Lord's little play thing. You'd been called worse.

"Yes, sir."

"So well trained, maybe we should keep her," Feyre said as she placed a gentle kiss on your nose.

"Where'd you learn this manners, hmm?" He nipped at your ear as he slid a second finger inside you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the stretch, at the way he curled his fingers, hitting all the right spots. Heat coiled in your gut and you found yourself instinctively tightening your hands into the silky strands of his hair.

"Certainly not Keir," Feyre said as she brought her hands to squeeze at your breasts.

You'd had your eyes closed, lost in the bliss of Rhys' ministrations, unprepared for the new sensation of her hands on you, you let out a moan louder than was appropriate for the situation.

"Guess I'm just good at this game," I quipped weakly. The two of them working together like this was becoming overwhelming, you could barely think past the point of contact of with their hands. There was only this and them and the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach. Rhys' pace was quickening. Feyre was playing with the clasp at the center of your bra, toying with it like she was contemplating ripping it off you.

She might have, if someone hadn't cleared their throat at the base of the dais.

"What do you want Keir?" Rhys sneered, the true picture of princely boredom, as if he was not currently holding you at the cusp of an orgasm, as if his mate wasn't leaving hickey's on the exposed skin of your breasts as they spoke.

You'd thought, as you registered Keir's presence that this would be the end of it, that they would stop now that they had his attention, but Rhys was still curling his fingers inside you, stroking relentlessly as Feyre bit and sucked at your sensitive skin. You arched into her, biting down on a moan, this game be damned. Who cared about Keir? About the rest of the court? You needed them to keep touching and kissing you. This was all that mattered.

You were panting as Feyre giggled into your skin. "Doing so good for us."

"Please," you begged, grinding yourself down on Rhys palm. You were so close, just a little more.

"I hate to interrupt," Keir began.

"No you don't," said Feyre. "It's your favorite thing to do."

"But your little toy-"

"Brought us a gift for our anniversary?" Rhys finished for him.

"We know," Feyre added. "It was a really sloppy attempt at a gift."

Keir stammered, none of the words coming out right.

"She needs some training," Rhys said. "A little refining around the edges, but I think this will be a very profitable relationship."

"Just wish we knew who sent her our way," Feyre cooed.

Rhys' free hand hand came up to rest on your throat, just tight enough to make you lean your head back to look at him. The move sent heat straight to your core, your muscle tightening as you whimpered for him. "But we'll get it out of you eventually, won't we, pet?"

Keir was visibly shaking now.

"Mhmm," you whimpered.

"Come on now, where are those pretty little manners you had before?" Rhys teased, his hand suddenly stilling.

The loss of friction was too much, tears welling up in your eyes. "Yes, yes High Lord." You stammered.

His grin was feline as he started moving again, faster this time. Feyre slid behind your mental shield again, this time opening up a door in her own mind to show you what you looked like through her eyes, your pupils blown, your cheeks flushed, lips kiss swollen and red. They'd left little red marks all along your throat and chest. Then she blasted you with an image of what she still wanted you to look like, images of her between your legs, of you taking Rhys in your mouth. You tightened around Rhys' fingers.

"And you would take the word of some-" whatever word he was about to throw at you was suddenly cut off as Rhys removed his ability to speak.

"Careful how you speak, Keir."

The steward's mouth opened and closed as he tried in vain to defend himself.

Rhys waved a hand, "You clearly have nothing useful to say here, you can go." Keir spun like a top, mouth still flapping open and closed like a fish, limbs splayed awkwardly, clearly not in control of his body, until Rhys made him walk half way to the door. Once he'd been released from the High Lord's grip, he stumbled and all but ran for the door.

"Why...?" The rest of the thought eddied from your mind as Rhys curled his fingers, hitting a spot inside you that made stars dance across your vision, your orgasm barreling through you so fast you're sure you screamed their names, but didn't have the presence of mind to hear it for yourself.

"We could kill him now," Feyre said as you slumped back against Rhys' shoulder. "But what fun is that? Why show him the mercy of a quick death when we can have him looking over his shoulder every five minutes, contemplating how to beat us in this wicked little game of ours?"

"I think," Rhys cooed as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple. "That it would be much more fun to eventually turn you on him instead."

You huffed a laugh at that.

Rhys carefully removed his fingers from your core and attempted to bring them to his mouth for a taste, but Feyre beat him to it, sliding his long fingers directly into her mouth, holding eye contact with you the entire time.

You clenched your legs together, wincing at the bit of soreness you felt there.

"Besides," Rhys purred in your ear, right before he shifted you around, settling you chest to chest in his lap. "This game is just getting started, isn't that right, pet?"

#feysand smut #feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #feyre acheron #feyre acheron x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #acotar smut #acotar x reader #CoN

312 notes · View notes

darlingod · 7 months

Text

Rhys in acomaf: feyre, are they not feeding you here?

Feyre: lol I can’t even go outside

#feyre acheron #acomaf #rhysand #feysand

217 notes · View notes

relatablebookworm · 1 year

Text

Nesta Archeron deserved better, and I will die on that hill. Was she a mean older sister? Yes. Does she deserve to be held accountable for that? Absolutely. But that is something that should have been handled between the Archeron sisters.

The truth is, they all had issues they should have resolved together. Elain also did nothing in the cabin, but because she’s sweet it’s okay that she also didn’t hunt. Feyre told the IC the bad things about her sisters, while leaving out the good parts. She also was the reason they ended up in the cauldron. Nesta shouldn’t have been so bitter and cold to her family, she should have shown her love better. Not one of them was perfect, but Nesta is everyone’s target because she’s not sweet and submissive.

They all have stuff to own up to, but they should have done that together. And the IC targeting Nesta, especially after Feyre tells them to stop is bullshit and my girl deserved better.

The poor girl didn’t even get an “I love you” in her book. Instead she got a man who seemed to hate her and want nothing to do with her, and when she’s broken suddenly he loves her because she’s not fighting him anymore.

Nesta went to the wall to rescue Feyre. She fought in a war. She killed a King. She was expected to heal in such little time when Elain was given months, and still isn’t completely healed. She was told not to drink and sleep around, when it is said in the books how the IC handled their first war/battles, and how they cope with their trauma. And again, it’s okay for them, but not Nesta. Only when Nesta gave up her powers was she ever welcomed in their Court.

So yes, I will die on the hill of “Nesta deserved better”. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#nesta archeron #nesta deserves better #acosf slander #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #anti cassian #nesta supremacy #archeron sisters #elain archeron #feyre acheron

616 notes · View notes

romaisamaria · 2 months

Text

Praying for the next acotar book to have Feyre, Nesta and Elain working together on a mission or something.

Would love to see the three of them using their powers and abilities together!

I think they would make an awesome team!

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #feyre acheron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #sjmaas #a court of thorns and roses #elain acotar #feyre acotar #nesta acotar

68 notes · View notes

rheamxe · 11 months

Text

Sarah Maas created many worlds and beautiful courageous women that are all unique and don’t look alike. Aelin, Manon, Feyre, Nesta, Nesryn, Kaltain, Elide, Elain, Mor, Danika, Lysandra, Bryce, Hasar, Fury, Hypaxia, Asterin and the 13, Amren, Juniper, Ansel, Borte, Emerie, Lidia, Jesiba, Gwyn. i relate to all of them in one or another way and for that alone i will be eternally grateful to her

191 notes · View notes

shi-daisy · 6 days

Text

Just a Nightmare

Day 4 of the best boy's week and while I was planning for smut, my brain refused to cooperate. So we're having a bit of fluff with he ebst throuple and basically what I like to imagine as the true end whenever the rest of the books give me the ick. (Acotar is a stand alone, fight me!) Hope you like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024- Day 4- Happily Ever After

Just a Nightmare

Tamlin woke up woth a gasp to the sound of lighting. The lights went on and it took him a moment to recognize the room. It wasn't torn apart and he wasn't alone. Lucien and Feyre slept at each of his sides.

"Tam? Are you okay?"

Lucien, his beloved Lucien was okay and here with him instead of running away from him after he lost his sanity and turned on the one man who he'd swore to never fail.

Feyre was slowly waking up, her hands weren't marred by black Night tattoos that drove his anxiety up and proved to be mating marks made by his worst enemy. Just what had happened?

"I...think so? I had a bad nightmare."

"You look pale. What did you dream about?"

What could he say? That he dreamt the pair left him for the Night Court and Feyre was mated to their worst enemy. That he dreamt he hurt them both so badly he was left alone here with ruble, vines, and wilted flowers? That he dreamt his dear wife was still marked but now in both arms rather than the one bargain they broke long ago, or that Lucien had been put through hell and he'd been unable to save him the pain?

Tamlin chose to convey all of that in just one sentence, one that also shared his biggest fear. "I dreamt I lost you."

Feyre and Lucien looked at eachother and then at him. "That's never going to happen. Tam, the court is rebuilt, we survived Amarantha, we survived Night and we are finally happy. Nothing will tear us away from you. We love you."

"Feyre is right. Whatever you saw...It was just a nightmare. We're here, and we love you more than anything."

That was all he needed to be at peace again.

"I love you too." He said sweetly.

Feyre kissed him, then Lucien, afterward the throuple settled back down into their bed, both Feyre and Lucien held onto him as they went back to sleep.

Just having their presence alone was enough to make him forget that awful nightmare. There was nothing to fear with his Court prospering and his beloveds by his side. With the sound of rain outside he soon fell back asleep, relishing in the happy end he never thought he'd have.

#tamlinweek2024 #tamlin #feyre acheron #lucien vanserra #Feylincien #Day 4: Happily Ever After

16 notes · View notes

crispyanonart · 5 months

Text

a quick character study with my first impression of Feyre

#feyre #acotar #character study #sketchbook #sketch #art #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanart #feyre fanart #fanart #redehad #feyre acheron

29 notes · View notes

harperbrynne · 8 months

Text

Feysand Week 2023 Day 1: Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal

Feysand made a bargain to ensure they left the world behind together.

When this day comes, people notice a sense of power in the night sky that wasn’t there before. Almost as if there’s a part of Rhys in the dark blanket of night and a part of Feyre in the twinkling glow of the stars.

Members of the Night Court and their family will look up into the sky and forever tell stories of Night Triumphant, and how he met his beautiful mate, the Stars Eternal.

@officialfeysandweek2023

#feysandweek2023 #feysand #feyre acheron #rhysand #night triumphant #stars eternal #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre #rhys x feyre #night court #the night court #acosf #a court of silver flames #rhys and feyre #feyre and rhysand #rhysand acotar #feyre acotar

38 notes · View notes

green-ville · 4 months

Text

Remnant

Synopsis: She was going to die. The blade was to her throat. The identical spots where her wings were freshly stolen from bled profusely. The pain was sharp, paralyzing. It didn’t help the fear that crippled her the rest of the way, stealing even the breath from her.

Death never came.

Roslyn woke in a foreign land, with foreign kings and queens, and foreign problems that she wound up in. She watched the downfall of a great nation, she helped save that nation with the woman named Aelin, she had a child. She had moved on. There was nothing else to do, she didn’t know how she ended up there or how to get back to what she once considered home.

Until she wakes up, and she’s there again.

She had moved on. Old memories resurface. Feelings that she suppressed but never got over boiled to the surface. Revenge screamed in her mind, and Roslyn went after it.

In her pursuit, she made her gravest mistake of all.

When Rhysand found out his sister was alive, he sent his greatest hunter after her. It was only a matter of time before they reunited, and Roslyn had buried that part of her hundreds of years ago. She wasn't ready to reawaken those parts of her.

The quiet night was indiscernible from every other quiet night. The shops were closed, their insides dark. The two inns were louder, lights bright and exuding an orange warmth to combat the deep blue and violet atmosphere. Laughter and chatting and music emitted, but that was put to shame by Rita’s.

The cobblestone path carried it all, and yet there was no other way to describe the night than quiet. A million stars lighting the sky, mountains lining the distance and simultaneously closing them in, while expanding the world beyond comprehension.

Tall, daunting, dark, and beautiful and gentle all the same.

Fae light lined the streets, turning the odd dark alley into something visible. Not enough to hide the figures that lurked in the darkest shadows, however.

A man of considerable height blocked the view of the more lieth figure. He had two hands on the wall, the act intimate and personal and not appropriate for such a public spot. Especially when Rita’s was so close.

There was nothing intimate about what was being done though.

The man’s lips slid from the woman’s neck as he collapsed to the ground, bleeding from a stab to the side of his neck. Blood pulsed out, soon drenching his right wing and staining the stone ground.

And the woman calmly, with a dead gaze, wiped her bloody dagger on a black cloth she had tied to her waist. She sheathed the blade, and with the grace of a dancer, she stepped over the man and left him to choke on the ground, body shaking softly as the last bit of life ran away from him, laughing in crazed glee.

Reentering the world, she walked confidently and silently. Her midnight black hair swayed, her poofy pants that were synched at her waist and ankles moved like the gentle roll of a wave. Dual daggers, blades slender and well cared for, were strapped to her waist, but hidden by additional fabric of her slacks. It was a subtle alcove, a thin piece of fabric that made it seem like she was wearing a skirt from the back, but clearly not from the front. The wrap finished at her waist, providing that little hiding spot for her daggers in the process.

Everything about her commanded attention, but she hid from it, clinging to the shadows and evading all points where she could be spotted. There was no one on the street, but she took the precaution anyway.

It got her to a certain point, at the least. She didn’t hear him because he couldn’t be heard, not when he prowled through the shadows like he was born from them. There was truth to that even if it was a guess.

He emerged, and she felt the shift, the presence. She whirled, and he was right behind her, a hulking figure.

“You killed. . .”

He had a nice voice, deep and rich. It could’ve read anyone to sleep. Unfortunately, her suspicions were correct. He knew what she had done.

She had no quarrels against killing him. While he might not have been on her list, resentment burned hot. He had wings. He wore Illyrian leathers.

To her? There was no greater a crime.

The slink of her blades withdrawing cut through the night, and she aimed straight for his neck. He caught her wrist and she jabbed with her other dagger -he caught her second wrist, still staring down at her with hazel eyes. His grip was strong, preventing her movement, but it wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t bruising, not nearly enough to do damage.

“Who are you?”

She snarled, and brought her knee up. His eyes widened at the contact and his grip tightened on her, not letting go. He was bending slightly though, and that she could use. She kicked the side of his knee quickly after she kneed him, his leg went out, bending under her will. She stepped on his thigh, other leg wrapping onto his shoulder. His grip on her broke and she wrapper her legs around his head. Her daggers came up, prepared to end the man, when she was grabbed.

She processed it too late. The heavy flapping of wings as his partner swooped down from above. He grabbed her, quicker than a snake, and overpowered her with ease. She was yanked off of the hazel eyed man, preventing his death for now.

She was flown off, feet unable to reach the ground. She kicked, shouting as her daggers were rendered useless with the hold. She crunched up, pulling on the man that carried her, and she kicked him in the gut, which, while also protected by leathers, did its job. Simultaneously breaking his hold on her and dropping her to the ground.

She flipped the rest of the way, landing cat like in a squat, one hand on the ground, blade pressed down and reflecting the moonlight.

The Illyrian guard dropped down, wings flaring and her glare deepened, shifting her stance to keep both guards in her view. The second one joined, as quiet as a mouse.

“You killed a soldier. A crime punishable by death,” the one that grabbed her accused.

“Prove it.”

“The man is dead, and you were running.”

“No I wasn’t. I was headed home.”

“You were slinking in the shadows.”

“I’m a woman, it’s the only safe way to get home without being grabbed,” she snarled.

The hazel eyed man narrowed his gaze, anger burning.

The other man piqued his brow instead. “Velaris is one of the safest cities on the continent.”

“No it’s not, a man’s just died. As guards, you should go look into it.”

“Did he try to touch you?” The hazel eyed man asked softly.

“What does it matter to you?” She snapped.

“As guards,” he took her own words, “we have to look into that man’s death. So I ask again, did he touch you?”

She didn’t like how he said it, like he cared, how he kept such heavy eye contact, like he wanted honesty and could snuff out a lie from a mile away. It was all a façade and she refused to allow it to be used against her.

She needed an escape, and there was only one escape where they couldn’t track her.

“Azriel! Cass!” A woman shouted, and that changed everything.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, recognition flaring. Azriel caught it, as if he had been waiting for it, or questioning himself if his own thoughts were true. He stepped forward, “You are–“

Darkness consumed her, she heard a distant shout, but it was already too late.

She was gone, reappearing in an alley not too different from the one she originally left, but with a greater treasure hidden away.

“Margareet, quickly,” the woman called, darkness still swirling at her feet. At her command, the still scene broke and a figure raced forward.

Short, fast, cutting to the bake of the alley. Her body was hidden by a large cloak, and from that glimpse alone, Margareet was a picture of disfigurement. Her back had to have been mangled somehow, there was no other reason for such a misshapen figure.

Margareet threw her arms around the woman’s middle, and they were gone, leaving Velaris behind once and for all.

They reappeared in a cave far, far away. Moonlight reached several feet in but stopped short of them.

Margareet stepped back, pulling off her hood and revealing the spry face of a young girl with a spark to her gaze and a matching one to her step.

“Did you do it mom? Did you get him?”

“I got him love,” she smiled softly, caressing her daughters face. “Now, we go wherever,” she promised. “Wherever your heart desires, it shall be yours.”

“I don’t know this world. . .I want to go home.”

“And when I figure out how to get home, it shall be. But for now, I think I might know a place you like.”

“Where?” She asked, removing her cloak.

She wasn’t disfigured at all. She had wings. The little girl had wings.

“You’ll see,” her mother grinned. “But for now, we head west. Show me how good your flying has gotten, hmm?”

Margareet laughed her excitement, childish glee infectious as she dropped her cloak, ran to the edge of the cave, and leapt out without any fear. Her wings spread out, catching the air, and her mother neared the edge, cloak in hand, and smiled.

The phantom pain of once having her own wings tightened at her back, where the scars raised from her skin. And yet, watching her daughter, she could almost imagine herself flying beside her.

Her heart gripped hard in her chest, old memories she didn’t even know she had resurfacing.

Azriel. Cassian. She knew boys with those names before. Annoying and bothersome, her mother loved them, and worst of all, they were her brothers’ best of friends.

Her brother. She hadn’t thought of him in years. It had been. . .hundreds of years. She didn’t even know what he looked like now.

And she couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t return after so long. She didn’t know how she left her world, but she had. She had mourned him, he had likely mourned her.

She couldn’t bring about his suffering anymore. He had their mother after all, he wasn’t alone.

Darkness wrapped her in its cold embrace again, and she reappeared on the forest floor, where her daughter swept overhead. “Come now, Margareet,” she called her daughter. They moved at night, only at night. It was the only time her daughter could fly without fear of being hunted and stripped of her freedom, and she’d be damned to eternity in hell before her daughter suffered as she had. “Let’s go.”

“Coming mom!”

“Rhysand!” He heard his name first, and then his brothers landed on the balcony of his study. He was illuminated with Fae light on his desk, papers scattered before him in what appeared to be chaos, but was truly controlled. He knew where everything he needed was.

“So I’ve been called,” Rhys remarked, looking up, wondering why the rush.

“Thyras is dead, killed outside Rita’s,” Cassian informed. “We tracked his killer down. She escaped, but. . .” He trailed off, stuck with hesitancy.

His brow rose. “A woman killed Thyras,” that part wasn’t what surprised him. Thyras was well known to be deficient of knowledge. “You found her, and then you let her get away?”

“She winnowed,” Azriel informed, staring at him. Everything about him quieter than it normally was. Something had happened that he wasn’t yet privy too. Something that they were going to tell him shortly, it seemed. “I don’t know how. . .”

“You don’t know how to winnow, Az? Nonsense, I’ve seen you do it.”

“She had your eyes.”

Rhys’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“She looked familiar, but it can’t be,” Cassian argued, looking like he had been arguing with Azriel the entire way back. “Don’t do this.”

“It was her, she recognized our names.”

“We’re well known! You don’t get called Lord of Bloodshed without people knowing your name!”

“Tell me already!” Rhys snapped, “before I lose my patience!”

“It was your sister,” Azriel said, mind opening, expelling an image so clearly it was a slap to the face for Rhys.

Straight black hair down to her back. Ears pointed and adorned with jewels. Nails long and painted black, enhancing the shape of her slender fingers that confidently wrapped around dual daggers. Face as sharp as her violet gaze and outlined by countless scars. Thin, long, thick. Some raised from her face, others were flat, blending into the background of tan skin.

Even without the eyes. Even without the face.

The daggers.

He had given her those daggers.

Rhys sat back, pale, sick, haunted by memories he fought every day to suppress, and every day they lingered. Always in his mind, never providing him respite.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, hands in his hair.

Distantly, he heard Cassian snap, “I told you. You’ve done this to him for nothing!”

“It’s her,” Rhys said, nodding, eyes wide. Violet eyes as large as the bright full moon.

Cassian blinked, staring at him. “She died, Rhys. Tamlin,” he spat the name, “And his filthy family killed her and sent you the evidence.”

“I gave her those daggers,” Rhys answered quietly. “They’re charmed. They can never leave her.” He looked up, locking on Azriel, heart pounding with fear and confusion and worst of all, hope. “Find her. Find Roslyn. Bring me back my sister.”

Azriel bowed his head. “Before the week is up, my Lord,” and he disappeared into the shadows to begin his hunt.

#azriel #azriel x oc #acotar #rhysand #rhysand sister #cassian #feyre acheron #nesta archeron #nessian #feysand #throne of glass #aelin ashryver galathynius #azriel shadowsinger

20 notes · View notes

starlightbooklove · 5 months

Text

I love how Feyre's character shows the reality of people who did not receive enough to none love while growing up and how that is why they learned to lower their expectations so much that When they enter into relationships, it is either difficult for them to accept the love they deserve or they simply settle for the bare minimum. It is a very accurate representation of how what we learn or experience at home shapes us as people, whether we realize it or not and in the story we also experience the fatal consequences of this, and also that there is much better in the world and how some may miss out by settling for the bare minimum.

And that's a Reality and I think it is very well described in this case.

And we can summarize it in:

You might be staying with a Tamlin and a tight mansion when there's a Rhys and a whole home waiting

Lol

#acotar #sarah j maas #feyre acheron #rhysand #pro rhysand #pro feyre #pro feysand #high lady feyre #feyre cursebreaker

50 notes · View notes

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

Text

ACOTAR Fics Masterlist:

Key: Indicates Smut🔥, Fluff 💖 , Angst 😭

Rhysand x Reader:

Warm Me Up 🔥

Under a Star-Flecked Sky 😭💖

Dancing With the Devil 🔥

Series:

Datura, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4 , Pt 5, Pt 6, Pt 7, Pt 8, Pt 9, Pt 10, Pt 11🔥😭

Poly!Feysand x Reader:

Wicked Games 🔥

#acotar fanfic #acotar smut #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand x reader fluff #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader smut #fanfics #my writings #my masterlist #rhysand #feyre acheron #will probably add more characters later

118 notes · View notes

kopfkino-o · 1 year

Text

The Crossover, Timelines, and the Future of ACOTAR

Disclaimer: This post is a long one, filled with mostly ramblings, and contains spoilers for both the ACOTAR and Crescent City series. Please don’t read on if you haven’t finished either series, mostly CC, as I would hate for anything to be spoiled. Additionally, this is NOT a shipping post and I want to highly discourage any shipping discussion in regards to the contents of this post. I miss fun casual fandom discourse and want lovers of every ship to feel comfortable sharing their options if they feel so inclined. Thanks for taking the time to read this <3 - Court

~~Spoilers Below~~

SO, LET’S GET INTO IT...

Ever since I finished the last chapter of HOSAB I've had a lot of questions. Like a lot of questions. But as a reader and lover of both the CC and ACOTAR series, one thing that haunts me is how the crossover is going to impact the ACOTAR narrative moving forward. Especially since CC3 is the next book to be released.

We know from Miss Sarah Janet herself that both series will be able to be read independently. We also know House of Flame and Shadow is Bryce’s story (and Ruhn and Hunt and all the others) and the focus will be on them. Any appearance of ACOTAR characters will be a treat, a little snack to keep readers of both series fed while they wait for the next book if you will, but what I can’t wrap my head around is the timeline, and how Bryce’s arrival ISN’T going to impact ACOTAR moving forward.

The revelations about the Asteri trying to get back into Prythian, the lost Fae worldwalking to Midgard, the 8th Dusk Court, all of that seems like it would naturally have a huge impact on the world of Prythian, and thus the characters within it. Imagine you haven’t read CC, then we learn (at the very least) there’s suddenly a new 8th court? That’s pretty important, and I imagine would leave many readers questioning.

Which brings me to the meat of this post, the juicy bit, the good stuff, and I guess my main point: the timeline. How, and most importantly when, will the rest of the stories in the ACOTAR series occur and where will Bryce’s arrival in Prythian fall within them?

We know ~6-9 months have passed between the end of ACOSF and HOSAB, so keep that in mind as you read on! Also keep in mind these supposed timelines aren’t referring to the order of publication, but rather the order of each respective story within the timeline of the Maasverse.

*Note: Thinking about where the next ACOTAR novella will fall (and what it might be about) hurts my head so I’m only going to briefly touch on that in this post.

Opt. 1: ACOSF --> Bryce’s Arrival --> ACOTAR 5 --> ACOTAR 6

If the series were to follow this timeline, I have a hard time wrapping my head around how Bryce’s arrival (and all that will be learned because of it) WONT impact ACOTAR moving forward. As mentioned above, Bryce has some information that’s going to really rock the world of Prythian and I struggle to see how this information won’t change the story in ACOTAR 5 and 6.

If everything involving Bryce occurs BEFORE the events of the next ACOTAR books then it’s safe to say the characters would all be aware of:

The Dusk Court (reborn or not)

The Asteri’s return

Other worlds

Bryce’s arrival

The Starborn Fae

And whatever knowledge Rhys and Armen seem to have

That’s a lot of really important stuff that has huge implications for Prythian. The way I see it, if this is the route the timeline takes then readers will need to read both the entirety of the Crescent City and ACOTAR series, though this goes directly against what the author herself has told us.

Confused? Me too.

Opt. 2: ACOSF --> ACOTAR 5 --> ACOTAR 6 --> Bryce’s Arrival

I don’t know what to really think of this potential timeline (but I might have convinced myself more and more of it while writing this), as there’s a whole lot of story left to cover, and if I’m remember correctly, there was only around a ~6-9 month gap between the end of ACOSF and Bryce’s arrival in Pythian at the end of HOSAB. That’s not a lot of time to solve all of the issues the ACOTAR characters are facing, at least in my opinion, especially when we still have:

Koschei and his machinations + Vassa’s curse

Two more love stories that need to unfold

Lucien and his real father

Eris and his scheming / Autumn Court drama

Mor and her secret

Elain and her powers

The High King plotline

Feysand’s death pact

Truth-Teller and where it came from

Valkyries still aren’t fully formed / Bloodrite fallout

Tamlin still running around totally feral though I hope he stays that way

And the many unanswered questions regarding tertiary characters and newly introduced characters, like Gwyn, Emerie, Balthazar, Helion and Lady Autumn, etc. etc.

That’s... a lot.

THEN AGAIN, if I remember correctly, the entire events of the Throne of Glass series spanned over the course of ~one year, so maybe this timeline isn’t so farfetched after all...

Though I do find this all to be a bit clunky. Readers of both series would be aware of Bryce’s arrival, other worlds, the Asteri’s attempt to reinvade Prythian, the lost Dusk Court, etc. all throughout the rest of the ACOTAR series. Seeing as CC3 is coming in January 24′, before the rest of the ACOTAR books, this timeline would also mean that readers of both series would have technically already seen the conclusion to both CC and ACOTAR by the time they finish HOFAS.

Sarah does like to play with the concept of time (past, present, future) so perhaps this timeline might make sense in the end. This could also play into the theory that TOG was the past, CC the future, and ACOTAR the present...

But now I’m giving myself a headache so let’s move on. If you’re still with me, you’re a saint and I hope your bookshelves are always full, your recs always good, and your pages never dog-eared.

Opt. 3: ACOSF --> ACOTAR 5 --> Bryce’s Arrival --> Novella (?) --> ACOTAR 6

This is a pretty wonky timeline too (I’m starting to think they all are) but I could also see it potentially making the most sense given the fact the 6-9 month window between ACOSF and HOSAB might be enough time for one of the remaining ACOTAR stories to play out, given that Nesta’s story spanned around ~10 months to a year. Though this would mean we’d read about Bryce’s arrival at the END of ACOTAR 5, and thus would need some sort of mention of this monumental event in ACOTAR 6/the novella. This would also mean there would be one endgame ACOTAR couple already together during the events of CC3, though I don’t think this is a huge thing, seeing as House of Flame and Shadow is about Bryce. Could we get crumbs and hints? Sure, though seeing as Sarah likes to keep her endgames tight-lipped, I highly doubt we’ll get anything substantial.

Speaking of the Novella... If it does come after ACOTAR 5/Bryce’s arrival, could this be a good way to bring in the idea of the multiverse to ACOTAR-only readers? Perhaps the novella is about the time the Daglan ruled over Prythian?? Or maybe it’ll be about Queen Theia??? Maybe it’ll be about none of that??

Now my head hurts.

Regardless of how the timeline shapes out I am so excited about where the story is going and can’t wait to see the new dynamics, lore, plots, and elements the crossover introduces. But now I want to know your theories! How do you think SJM will handle the crossover, the revelation of the Maasverse, the interconnected worlds of Prythian and Midgard, and all the goodness we still have left to explore in CC3/ACOTAR 5&6???

Thanks again for reading!

131 notes · View notes