#tavern ambiance

[hanvanmusic]

Tavern beauty | Relaxing Medieval Tavern Music | Tranquil Ambiance for Stress Relief 🎶 #TavernMusic

Step into a peaceful medieval tavern with our soothing and immersive ambient music! In this video, we bring you the perfect blend of tranquility and nostalgia with a collection of medieval tunes that will take you on a journey through time. Unwind and escape the stress of daily life as you immerse yourself in the serene atmosphere of a medieval tavern. Experience the calming beauty of medieval music and let it transport you to a time of relaxation and reflection. Don't forget to like, share, and subscribe for more captivating ambient music experiences! #RelaxingMedievalMusic #AmbientTavern #StressRelief 🎵 Parts List: https:https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyCzCWN9gRLzbtm7zf7BNfoy_1jv9iv7f 🔔 Don't forget to subscribe and turn on notifications so you can be notified of new videos! 🎧 Enjoy this video and please give your comments and thoughts. It is important for us to communicate with you!

[witch-hazels-musings]

Have you ever missed someone so badly you go to YouTube and listen to your fav talking with relaxing music in the background

Yes, I'm fine now

[artists-ally]

{Show Me Where It Hurts} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson

Sooooooo I had a thought. And then this happened. That's all I'm gonna say. Just two shadow daddies doing unspeakable things. Title inspired by this song. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,238

Warnings: ACOTAR x Fourth Wing, alcohol, smut, MMF, Oral (m and f receiving), DP, dom/sub vibes, use of the nickname "pet", bondage, shadow play, degrading, spanking, choking, spitting, unprotected sex.

Tagging: @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @thelov3lybookworm @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters

Summary: After a miserably failed night out, you decide to head to a local bar to drink away your sorrows. Two males, one of them being your Court Spy Master, the other a stranger, approached you.

~~~~~

“Are you kidding me?” “I understand your frustration but-”

“My frustration?” I shouted, eyes wide. “What do you mean he did book a reservation?”

“There has been no reservation made under that name. I am truly sorry, Yn. But it looks like he may have… done it on purpose?”

“No,” I shook my head. I could not fathom being stood up let alone whatever this was. “No this cannot be right. I-I spoke with him this morning, he said that our table was reserved for tonight.” The hostess offered me a kind look as the realization slowly settled in my bones. “Oh my gods… he set me up.”

“If I were you,” the pretty Fae came around her stand and took my hands in hers. “I’d find a way to forget about that damned male. He clearly is undeserving of you or your kindness. I wouldn’t sweat it, a pretty one like you won’t go unnoticed for very long.”

I tried to smile, but a grimace was the best I could do. “I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for all your help…” I paused to look at the little tag on her black tunic. “Jasmina.”

“My deepest apologies, Yn,” Jasmina waved as I exited the restaurant and the bitter Velaris air nipped at my bare shoulders. 

What a fucking lame excuse for a male. How dare he stand me up on a date? He was the one practically begging on his knees to ask me. I should’ve known better. Males like him do not like females like me. 

In an attempt to not let the night–or the fierce outfit I put together-go to waste, I went a couple streets over to a tavern. It had a nice ambiance and a surplus of good liquor. The dark, rustic interior greeted me with a ploom of warm air and the scent of cheap ale and wine. 

After hanging my coat on the rack at the front, I weaved through the rather crowded space to hopefully snag a stool at the bar. I was lucky enough to get one at the end, only one person to my left and the wall to my right. 

I just sighed. What a shitty day. I had spent a few hours getting read, and for what? To be made a fool? To be embarrassed? I shouldn’t have to pay the consequences for something I didn’t have control over. I swear to the gods that if I ever see what’s-his-face again I’ll put my fist through it. 

“Evening, milady,” the polished man behind the counter said. He had a thick beard and a mustache that curled up on the ends. He had a thick accent too, probably from somewhere in the hills. “Celebrating tonight?” “More like mourning,” I huffed, bracing my chin on my palm. 

“Terribly sorry for your loss,” his eyes softened. “Oh,” I gave a chuckle. “No, not a death. I just came in from what was supposed to be a date. Turns out I was set up and he wasn’t going to be coming.”

The male scoffed. “The boldness from some of the males in this city.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What can I get for you?” He asked, wiping a few glasses down and setting them atop a stack.

I looked at the board behind him, the list of crafted beverages going on and on. “Maybe something sweet?”

“Do you like cherries? Passion fruit, pineapple maybe?”

“Cherries are wonderful,” I sat up a little straighter. “I honestly couldn’t care less about what alcohol is in it. You had me at cherries.”

The male smiled, “I shall put in an extra just for you, darling.”

“Thank you,” I smiled and watched him get to work. 

The tavern was far more crowded than I expected for a weekday. There were more people than tables and chairs to accommodate them. Some even sitting on the tables. But the hum of voices and clinking glasses was the type of ambient sound that could put me right to sleep if I laid my head down. 

I felt incredibly comfortable and safe here. Not that I didn’t other places in the city, but something about being here was… calming. People were enjoying themselves, and it was like I was the only person in here with a scowl on their face. 

The crack of billiards had my head turning the other way as I saw a group huddled around a green velvet table with colored balls scattered around. I recognized one immediately as our High Lady. And right beside her was the High Lord. 

“This is called a cherry sour. It is made of distilled vodka and lemon. I added some cherry syrup to give it a little extra sweetness for you,” he said, placing the drink in front of me. 

“It looks lovely.” I smelled it and it was strong. When I took a sip, it was like my brain blew up. The most strange combinations of flavors, yet somehow it all worked. The brutal burn of the alcohol mixed with the bitter lemon and sweet cherry made my stomach burn. “I see the High Lord is in tonight.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “he is here with the High Lady and a few of their courtiers. The commanding general as well as the Morrigan. And the shadowsinger is here… somewhere. He was with another male when he walked in.”

“I have visited other Courts before. I have never seen any of their High Lords step foot outside of their palaces to so much as wave at their people let alone live amongst them like Rhysand does.”

The craftsman nodded in agreement. “He is not the traditional Lord our continent has come to know, and that is what makes him a vital part of our city. He’s our founder. He built our sanctuary not for us but for himself, too. It is only fair that he dines and plays games where he chooses.”

“Have you ever met them?” I asked curiously. 

“Of course, they are here a few times a month. Morrigan and Cursebreaker’s sister are in here more.”

I glanced again, finding a few more heads now joining them. The general, Cassian, was in conversation with a shorter male, his brown hair glistening in the overhead light. He had a tattoo on the side of his neck and it disappeared underneath the collar of his black shirt. 

At first I thought it to be the shadowsinger but it wasn’t him. His hair was too light. The more I looked, the more I realized that he looked a little out of place. He had darker skin than either of our Illyrians, and he didn’t have wings. For just a second he turned his head and I caught a glimpse of a scar on his face. Above his left brow and below his eye.

He was very pleasant to look at. 

“I will be back, I need to break up some ice in the back,” the bartender spoke generally to the crowd. In a second he was out of sight and out of mind. I could not stop looking at this male. 

The curls in his hair looked soft and fluffy and I really wanted to run my fingers through them. Though he was shorter than the general, he was at least a head taller than me, if not a half more than that. Whoever he was…

That couldn’t be the shadowsinger, could it? From all that I’ve heard of the illusive male this did not match any of the descriptions. He was just as tall– if not taller– as Azriel, but the hair… It was too light. And now wings. No shadows. Our High Lord can summon his wings, maybe the others can as well? Plus, I’ve heard that the scars the shadowsinger has on his hands are rather brutal. This male didn’t have any scars on his hands that I could see.

The air around me cooled and I shivered, wishing I had brought my jacket with me. It was like a door just opened and a draft seeped in around me. Up my legs and around my ankles. 

To not appear creepy I looked elsewhere, not finding any of the other males in the room as interesting as the one with the brown fluffy hair. There was a couple sitting in a booth across the room, very clearly struggling to keep their affection tame. Another was dancing together and I became painfully aware of just how awful my dating life had been. 

I threw back the rest of my drink, just as the bartender returned and ordered a few shots of something stronger. Much stronger by the smell of it. The warmth of it spread through my arms and fingers and the room seemed to get a little rowdier. 

“Before I pour another, milady, I would just like to ask if you have a safe way to get home,” he asked kindly. 

I smiled at the tenderness in his voice. “Yes, I live right down the way in the set of townhouses by the Sidra. Two minute walk.”

“Excellent.” Another shot was placed in front of me. 

I kept sneaking glances at our High Lord and Lady. They looked so magnificent. Like a true emperor and empress. And they looked so happy to be together. Not with just themselves but with the general and whoever this other male was. Perhaps someone from Illyria?

Again, the whole no wings thing was throwing me off. 

Wait, where did he-

“Excuse me,” a deep, rough voice said from beside me. My eyes met the most beautiful set of eyes I’ve ever seen. A dark, almost black color with flecks of amber and gold. It was the male I had been gawking at for the past half hour. He had an accent like I’ve never heard before. “I am Xaden.”

I stared at his extended hand for a moment before shaking it. “Yn.”

“Yn,” he practically purred. “A very beautiful name.”

It was hard not to blush. “I don’t mean to sound rude but are you-”

“Hey, there you are. We were just about to start another game did you…” The Spy Master of the Night Court stopped right beside him. His hazel eyes locked with mine and my stare darted between the two. The two very attractive, tall, muscular males in front of me. “Hello there.”

“This is Yn,” Xaden introduced me. “I was just about to ask if I could buy her a drink but I think you had a question for me?”

All thoughts leave my brain. Just above the shadowsingers shoulders lay his wings, and curling around them were those infamous shadows. The most lethal male on the continent stood two feet from me. And he was looking at me like… I didn’t let myself finish that thought. 

I cleared my throat, “I was going to ask where you’re visiting from. You have a very… foreign accent.”

Xaden smiled a little and I thought I’d collapse on the ground. “I come from Navarre. A place far from here.”

“I’ve never heard of Navarre,” I said truthfully. But if males like him came from there then maybe I need to visit. 

“It’s not entirely accessible,” he folded his arms across his chest. His very muscular and sculpted chest. “I am just visiting a friend.”

I looked at Azriel, who, much to my surprise, hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I shifted in my seat. “You two are friends?”

“Only recently,” Azriel spoke and I felt his voice crawl down my spine. “Xaden here is the closest thing to me that his puny world has to offer.”

“Puny?” Xaden’s eyes went wild. “Take away your wings and siphons and see how well you do as Basgiath. I doubt you’d last five minutes on Sgaeyl in a basic flight maneuver.”

“Basgiath? S-Sgaeyl?” The names were so weird in my mouth. 

“Basgiath is the name of our War College. And Sgaeyl is my dragon.”

His what?

“Riroson here thinks that I couldn’t mount and ride a dragon. I’d like to see you take on the Bogge or a Naga with those tiny daggers of yours,” Azriel broke his gaze away from mine to take a sip of whatever was in his glass. “Pathetic.”

“You have a dragon?” I most certainly didn’t hear him correctly. “But they’re-”

“Not where I’m from, they’re not. See, we don’t have magic like you do here in Prythian. Back home, we have to study, bond with a dragon, and then we get the ability to channel their power. Mine just so happens to be shadow-wielding. Apparently this one could feel it across our world and tracked me down. He’s been teaching me for a few years now.”

“And somehow you still can’t manage to winnow,” Azriel rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Some of us haven’t had centuries of practice, asshole,” Xaden retorted. If I had known anything about Azriel, I fully expected him to flatten out this Xaden guy. 

“You’re not Fae?”

“No offense, but who would want to live forever?” He shrugged. A valid response. It was only then that I saw the roundness of his mortal ears.

Azriel grumbled a curse. “I apologize for him. He is cranky after his long flight here. I’m Azriel, I’m not sure I introduced myself.”

“I know,” I forced myself to look anywhere but his gorgeous face. Easily the most attractive Fae I’ve ever seen. 

“Are you here with anyone? I saw you walk in about an hour ago and haven’t seen you talk with anyone,” he asked. He saw me walk in? “If my night had gone any better than yes, I would be here with someone. But, instead, he had other plans and never showed up for our reservation.”

Both of the males stood completely silent. I watched Azriel’s eyes narrow, his jaw clench. “Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I could feel that bubble of emotion rise up in my throat, pricking my nose and eyes. “He’s just some nobody I was seeing. His loss.”

“Biggest fucking mistake he’ll ever make,” Xaden scooted in closer, leaning his forearms on the counter. “What were you drinking? Next one's on me.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you but I would like to wake up in the morning without any regrets. A water will do,” I smiled sweetly at him and he returned it without a second thought. 

I felt Azriel move closer to me and I could just barely see him in my peripheral vision. I tried not to look. It was so hard. All I wanted to do was look at him. Then he was closer. A lot closer. His arm across the back of the stool I was sitting in. 

Oh gods his scent.

“For you,” Xaden slipped a cool glass of water in my hands. “To you, Yn.”

I blushed as I knocked my glass with theirs. 

“Not to impose, but I would like to know more about this asshole who stood you up tonight. Because clearly he’s not right in the head for leaving you. Especially when you look so good.”

I couldn’t help the flush that spread down my neck and up my ears. “I don’t know, we met over the weekend and he asked if we could go on a date. I said yes. And I think what makes it even worse is that I was looking forward to it. I was excited to get all dressed up and go out for the first time in months. Now I just feel like a fucking idiot for getting my hopes up and wanting to-”

“Hey.” Xaden’s finger pulled my chin to look up at him. “You are not the problem. That mother fucker has another thing coming if he thinks he could’ve ever given you what you need.”

I’d like to focus on the latter part of that statement, but all I could think of was his face– inches from mine– and his other hand at my knee. My heart thrashed and I was so still I wasn’t sure if I was breathing or not. 

“I think you’re scaring her, Riorson,” Azriel said from behind me. Then I became aware of just how close he was to me. He practically spoke right against my neck. A hand brushed at my right shoulder and I shuddered. 

“If you’re willing, we’re offering.” Xaden has this gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips. 

I had to sit up a little so I could start seeing clearly. “I-I’m sorry ‘we’re’?”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Xaden grinned. “But, if you’d like to erase this guy from your thoughts, all you have to do is show me where it hurts. I promise I can make it all better.”

Is he asking what I think he is? I looked at Azriel who had the same look Xaden did. Full of mischief. 

“You… You can’t be serious.” They were playing games with me. They have to be. There’s no way that our Court Spy Master and whoever this guy was from Navarre were willing to share.

“Az?” Is all Xaden said. 

Fingers brushed my hair over my shoulder and tucked it out of the way. I gasped when Azriel kissed down my neck. I think I’m shaking, though it could just be my pulse beating so wildly through my veins that it feels like I’m shaking. But I definitely can't feel my fingers anymore. 

Xaden stepped in a little closer and blocked most of my view of the rest of the bar. “May I?” He held out a hand. I swallowed and nodded as best as I could with Azriel gently nipping at my throat. Xaden quickly placed his mouth on mine.

I got lost in him. In both of them. All the bells and whistles in my body were going off at once. I’ve never done anything like this before. I had two of the most attractive looking individuals in the world right here. Both kissing me. 

In a few seconds Xaden pulled from my mouth and Azriel went with him. I was suddenly so cold and needed them back exactly where they were. My thighs clenched together. 

“What do you say, want to take out all your anger, your frustration and disappointment, on us?” Xaden asked softly, right into my ear. The way he pulled it between his lips made it very difficult to say no. Not that I wanted to in the first place. I’d be a fool to say no. 

I nodded eagerly. 

Azriel clicked his tongue and made me look at him. “Need you to say it, Yn.”

“Yes,” I said without a second thought. “Yes.”

Both of them chuckled. “Let’s get out of here.”

As we made our way down the street, both of the males on either side of me, I was burning with desire; every so often– about every three or four steps– one of them would have to pause, spin me around, and kiss me until I saw stars. They ‘just couldn’t help it’.

Not that I minded. 

“Apologies if the place is a mess,” Azriel said, unlocking a door. It looked vaguely familiar, and when I looked up and across the street, I realized why. 

“Hey, that’s my place right there,” I smiled, looking at the small rose bushes lining my little walkway. 

“Would you rather go there instead? No pressure if you do,” Xaden’s hands went down my sides and hips as he spoke. 

I nearly collapsed onto the floor. “No, no this is fine I don’t think I can wait.” “Impatient, are we?” Xaden murmured into my hair. 

“Well,” I blew out a breath as he nipped at my ear. “I’m not exactly dreading being taken to be by two males.”

“Hopefully we won’t ruin you for any other lovers.”

Was it bad that I hoped they would? 

The door gave away and it was flooded with Azriel’s scent. A mixture of Xaden’s too, but it was hard to differentiate them. His was far more subtle than the shadowsingers. They guided me inside, lights coming on along the halls and overhead. 

“Have you ever…” Xaden trailed off and I flushed a deep red. 

“No, I’ve never done this before.” My laugh was a pathetic attempt to hide my nerves. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” Xaden grinned and gave my mouth what it wanted most. His tongue was hot against mine and I pressed as close to him as I could get. For a moment I couldn’t see or hear anything, and then we were in a bedroom that seemed far too massive for this little townhouse. 

I looked around; a massive bed was standing right before me, dark curtains over a door that led to a balcony. 

“Did we just-”

“Winnowing,” Azriel explained, pulling me out of Xadens arms and into his own. “This is far easier when we have room. Like Xaden said, we’re gonna take care of you. Any time you feel uncomfortable just tell us to stop and we will. We do this at your pace, you control it.”

Weirdly enough, my heart ached at the tenderness in his voice. But my body did not want to be in control. It wanted everything but. “And what if I said that I didn’t want to make any decisions. That I just wanted to feel and nothing else.”

I saw Azriel look up first, then felt Xaden press against my backside. I was squished between them and I thanked the Mother that I never went on that date tonight. But they looked at each other. 

Azriel grinned. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I need it.”

“Aww, you’re that desperate already?” Xaden pulled me into his body, one hand gripping my face to make me look at him, the other wrapped around my stomach. “We haven’t even touched you yet, pretty thing. Haven’t even tasted you.”

“What are you waiting for?” I have no idea where this boldness is coming from. 

Xaden stepped away from me and laid at the top of the bed. “Come here, then.”

No turning back now. 

I crawled to him on my hands and knees. The dress I was wearing did nothing to hide my ass any longer. Xadens hand reached out, and when I was close enough, he grabbed me by my throat and pulled me into his lap. Pulled my mouth on his. I let out a very pathetic noise. 

His other hand made me sit right on his cock and I could feel everything that was waiting for me. I moved my hips in a circle and he let out a breath, his dark, almost gold flecked eyes looking at me with hunger.

The bed dipped and Azriel pulled my hair back so I looked up at him. “You don’t have to be ashamed if you want to scream our names while we fuck away the pain, Yn.”

I nodded, wanting to twist so I could kiss him but Xaden firmly planted my hips to his. “I didn’t tell you to stop moving, pretty thing.”

I obeyed him. It was such an odd angle; to have my head thrown all the way back but my hips moving. It made it hard to breathe. 

“I think she’s getting impatient, Riorson,” Azriel said as if I wasn't even there. 

“Yeah I can feel how wet she is.” Xaden curiously slipped a hand between my legs, a few fingers trailing the crease of my thigh. “You really are impatient, aren’t you?”

“Please…”

“Please what?” Azriel pulled my hair harder. “Come on, use your words, Yn. Don’t be shy.”

I whimpered. “Please touch me, Xaden.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely.”

Azriel released his grip and Xaden lifted up my hips, pulling down my thong. His fingers were cold against my pussy. I shivered. His fingers were so long. It took everything in me to not fuck myself on them. The shadowsinger remained behind me and slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders. 

“Arms up.” Azriel commanded. The dress was lifted off my body and I felt very exposed. But soon enough he was against me, his hard chest against my back. “Kiss him.”

I burned red at the tone of his voice. But I kissed Xaden with enough force to make him bite my lip, catching my tongue between his teeth next. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my chest to his. I jolted as he brushed my clit and he let out a dark chuckle, doing it again and again. 

“So easy,” Xaden muttered, pushing me on my back effortlessly. I watched as he stuck his two fingers in his mouth. “Fuck do you taste good, pretty thing.”

His massive hands spread my thighs apart after he threw my underwear somewhere in the room. Those brown curls felt just as soft as I imagined. I didn’t care if I was being desperate, I needed his mouth between my legs. The first pass of his tongue made me go limp. I let my head fall back, my knees parting even further. 

My body welcomed him as he explored, tongue flicking, hands bruising my skin. Fingers brushed my chest, so faintly I thought I might’ve imagined it. Azriel had gone somewhere, but I was too focused on Xaden to care at this moment. When I looked down, those were not fingers playing with me, but rather tendrils of shadow circling around.

“What the-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay Yn,” Azriel said from my right, standing further in the room. He was undressing, the fighting leathers he had been wearing folded neatly on a desk. His wings were... dear gods his wings were massive. “It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Pleasure and fear coursed through me at the same time. My brain and body were on fire with emotions as I watched them drift and encase my body. They were cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the boiling temperature of my skin. As I watched, I settled. It was quite fascinating. 

A sharp smack to the inside of my thigh had me looking at Xaden. “Focus on me.”

I nodded and I became aware of just how close I was to my release. I panted and writhed, itching for something to grab onto. Something to touch and yank-

My hands were above my head two seconds later and I was dragged to the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Xaden shouted and another wave of fear crashed through me. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Well, it’s my turn, Riorson,” Azriel gritted his teeth, taking himself in his hand. “You can still have her legs for now. But I need to feel her mouth.”

Were they fighting for me? For my body? I smiled. So wide it hurt. I obediently opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, enticing him further. In tandem, I spread my legs as wide as they could go for Xaden. 

“You’re so well trained, pet.” Azriel wasted no time forcing his cock down my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but that’s how I wanted it. He thrusted in slowly, stopping when he was all the way, then pulled back out. “You take my cock so well, Yn. I’m so proud of you.”

“If you think her mouth feels good, wait till you get inside her pussy. She’s so warm and tight.”

I moaned around Azriel, knees fluttering off the bed as Xaden sucked my clit. The shadows continued to writhe around my nipples and I felt so exposed. I couldn’t keep still. My legs trembled and I felt that coil in my stomach clenching and clenching. I wanted Xaden’s cock between my legs more than his tongue, but I couldn’t tell him that with Azriel down my throat. 

“Do you think she can take both of us?” Azriel asked, brushing a hand across my cheek, then it gently wrapped around my neck. I choked hard enough for tears to streak down my face. 

“Hmm,” Xaden hummed around me and I thrashed. “Well, that was adorable. As for fitting both of us? It’s possible. Probably gonna hurt. Don’t worry, he’ll work you open on his cock so good you won’t have a choice but to take both of us.”

“We don’t want to hurt her, Riorson,” Azriel cupped my cheeks. “Unless you want us to, pet?”

I nodded immediately. He pulled out and I heaved for fresh air, eyes glossy as I looked up at him. “Don’t be gentle.”

The way Azriels’ eyes darkened should have made me afraid. Instead it filled me with a primal desire. The force of his hips was brutal. The slight salty taste of his skin was intoxicating. I gagged around him with every press of his tip at the back of my throat, tears burning down my face. 

Without any resemblance of a warning, my release barreled through me and I shook, legs kicking out as Xaden continued to tongue fuck me until I saw stars. He kept going. He didn’t stop. 

I tried to get him to ease, to let up but my hands were bound at my sides. That same cool feeling sliding around my wrists as it did my chest. It was so much. Already too much. 

“Alright, she’s had enough,” Xaden finally pulled away from my throbbing cunt, caressing my thigh and the bruises there. His chin glistened with my cum, and he didn’t let any of it go to waste as his tongue dragged over his lips. 

“I’ll tell you when she’s had enough. Get back up on the bed. Strip.” With a more than heavy shove, Azriel sheathed himself inside me one last time, held just long enough to make me panic for a breath. “Good girl, Yn.”

I hiccuped a small sob, already teetering on my breaking point. Azriel sat me up and pushed me down on my hands and knees. In front of me was Xaden. His very hard cock straining up. The shadowsinger’s hand fisted in my hair and I was forced to take his cock down.

“Stay right there, pet. Don’t move. You came without permission. Since you decided to be so greedy, you’re gonna get Xaden off while I punish you.” A merciless hand smacked my ass hard enough to make an outline of his hand. “Got it?”

I nodded around Xaden’s cock and yelped when another smack came down. Xaden groaned, his sculpted abdominal and chest flexing. One arm was behind his head, the other on my head. He was far more gentle than Azriel was, but I could see his control slipping as he thrusted up in time with Azriel’s hand on my ass. 

“Fuck she feels good, Az,” Xaden praised, cupping my cheek. “And you look so pretty full of my cock. Gods I can’t wait to be in that pussy.”

I squeaked out an embarrassing noise when Azriel dragged his cock through my cunt, coating himself in my release. Just the tip of him had me stretching and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sting. With a snap of his hips, he slid in deeper and deeper and deeper-

“That’s it, pet. Take all of my cock. Good girl, Yn. Good girl.” His cooing made it impossible not to cry out around Xaden. As Azriel pulled back, slowly, he grabbed my hips and took me with him. I scrambled to try and keep Xaden’s cock in my mouth, but I was too far away now. 

“Look at how desperate she is for you, Riorson. She wants your cock soooo badly she’s fighting me for it.” Azriel ran his nails down my spine. “How about we play a little game, pet. When I pull out of you, you have to keep your mouth on him or else you get a smack. How does that sound?”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Xaden. He had a flush to his cheeks. The same primal hunger I had in my eyes. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to have him come down my throat. A sharp crack rang through the room and I screamed. 

“I want an answer. Now.” Azriel demanded, yanking me up and forcing me down on his thick cock. 

“Yes yes yes,” I babbled. “Please let me make Xaden feel good.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg like that,” Xaden mumbled, dragging me back down to him by my wrist. I wrapped my lips around him and worked up and down. He was just as big as Azriel. But the shadowsinger was bigger. 

Azriel’s hands on my hips hurt almost as much as the hand that smacked me. I’m sure it was bright red and swollen. Every time he thrusts into me, he forces my body back into him. A few times I was pulled off of Xaden and I got punished. New tears running down my face after every one. 

“F-Fuck Az stop doing that,” Xaden growled out. “I barely have her for two seconds before you’re ripping her away again.” His two hands gripped the sides of my head, forcing me all the way to his pelvic bone. “Now stop holding back and fuck her like you mean it.”

“Think she can handle that?”

“Of course she can, look at her. Split open wide on our cocks, taking them like she’s been doing it for years. She’ll be fine, won’t you, pretty thing?” I nodded, blinking up at him. “See, she wants it. Such a good fuck toy. Such a good pet.”

“If you can’t, say so now, Yn,” Azriel gripped at my hips to pull Xaden's dick out of my throat. “Well?”

“D-Don’t… don’t hold back.” Gods my voice was raw. “Please don’t hold back. I need it.”

“See? Now go, I’ve been on the edge for the past ten minutes,” Xaden said rather impatiently. 

I could not have prepared myself for the force of Azriel’s thrusts. Or the grip Xaden had on my head. I thought my neck was going to rip from my shoulders with how hard I was being pulled in opposite directions. I only got a breath every two or three drives of Azriel’s cock. 

Both of them were a whimpering mess. Xaden especially. I prayed to the Mother that these walls were thick enough so no one would hear us. 

Minutes ticked by and I became a limp mess. A mere boneless thing for Azriel and Xaden to play with. My arms were trembling beyond use and my legs and toes were numb with euphoria. I couldn’t keep myself up any more. 

“Fuck, Yn,” Xaden panted, hips bumping into my nose every time he snapped his hips. “Gonna come.” I just let all my weight fall onto him, letting him go deeper and deeper down my throat. “You’re such a good girl, Yn. Such a good fucking girl.”

Azriel shoved his cock as far as it would go, forcing me to take all of Xaden’s cum down my throat in one go. I didn’t even get to taste it. Xaden fucked into my mouth, hands firm on my head as he continued to spill. I dared a glance up and I saw shadows, slightly different than Azriel’s, caressing his shoulders. 

How the hell did I get so lucky?

I was pulled off of Xaden and I was completely limp. “What do you say to Xaden, pet?”

“Thank you,” I stuttered out as Az continued to fuck me. 

“Good girl. Now clean him up so he can take my place.” On my own accord, I picked my heavy head up and lapped at his cock, gently cleaning him with tiny flicks of my tongue. Up and down and up and down. He tasted so good. Salty and tangy. “Still got more, Riorson? I forget you humans can’t reset as quickly as we can.”

“I have stamina that’ll put you to shame, Illyrian.” Xaden had a devilish grin on his lips. “My turn.”

Xaden’s hands wrapped under my arms, guiding me off of Azriel. I tried to get my legs to move, but it was a useless effort. I could barely think let alone tell my body what to do. 

“Easy, Riorson. I know you’re eager. And trust me, you should be. Fuck is she tight.”

Xaden let out a teasing noise, pumping a few times to get himself hard again. “Aww I bet she is. Gonna take my cock next, pretty thing? Yeah you are, and you’re gonna take Azriel's, too. Come on, sink down and- yes just like that, yes Yn. Good girl.”

Riding him made this so much easier. He was far stronger than I was and helped me rock back and forth. It was wonderful stimulation for my clit, too. For a few minutes he bounced me up and down, filthy praises spilling out of him like it was his job.

“I told you,” Azriel’s voice was right up against the back of my neck. “Worth the wait.”

“What if I told you I didn’t want to share her anymore?” Xaden sucked on my nipple and rubbed my clit at the same time. 

“Too late for that, Riorson. She’s all ours, aren’t you?” I felt the press of Azriel’s cock against my hole and jumped. “Relax. It’ll hurt if you don’t.”

I nodded, getting lost between the two sets of hands–the two sets of lips and tongues and teeth. I was one with the stars, completely suspended in a place I didn’t know but I sure as hell didn’t want to leave any time soon. I tried to remain still as Az slowly–very slowly– pushed in bit by bit. I was reduced to nothing but mumbling noises and begging whines. 

“Should’ve asked Cass if he wanted to join us so she could have something to do with that mouth of hers,” Xaden blew out a breath. “Need something to suck on, pretty thing?”

I just nodded, too overstimulated to speak. I just needed. I don’t know what I needed but I needed it. 

“Gods you really are such a good pet,” Az pulled my head back. With a firm grip on my jaw, it fell open and he spat in my mouth. The shock of it damn near pushed me over the edge. My eyes crossed and my vision blurred as he stuck his fingers in my mouth for me to suck. 

It took several minutes but then I was balancing between both their cocks, vibrating with energy and a need so deep I knew the second they would move I’d come. And I’d keep spasming around them as they did as they pleased. 

Hands expanded every inch of my body. “Ready?”

“Mhmm,” was the best response I could get out. Xaden pulled me towards him, then slowly pushed me back onto Azriel. Then Az slowly pushed me onto Xaden. I was weightless in their hands, practically being held up by them alone.

“You are doing such a good job, my pet,” Azriel pulled out his fingers, gripping my throat. “So tight and wet. That’s it, just relax. Let us take you, Yn.”

“She’s being so good, don’t you think she deserves a reward, Az?” Xaden plucked both of my breasts.

“Of course she does.”

My ears were ringing. Sweat soaked my hairline. I could feel Xadne and Azriel’s pulse against my own, and I swore I could’ve felt them all sync up for a beat or two or five. Endless shadows swirled across my skin, hands fighting for leverage on my hips. I knew I’d be marked and bruised in the morning.

“I got her here, you take care of her down there,” Azriel instructed. Both of his hands cupped my chest, pinching brutally. Xaden snaked his hand between our fronts and just barely grazed my clit before I was coming so hard my vision blacked out. 

I screamed, throat burning with pain as I writhed and begged for nothing and everything. I cried out over and over as they continued to push me. Lips and tongue slid over my throat, Xaden’s forcing its way into my mouth to swallow my screams. 

Azriel bit down on my shoulder and snapped his hips a few times, trying and failing to suppress his moans. It came from deep in his chest and it rumbled through me. “Gonna take my cum, pet?”

I couldn’t respond. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get words to form. 

“Give it to her, Az. She needs it,” Xaden said for me. “Don’t worry, pretty thing, Az is gonna give it to you. Just be patient.”

His hips worked into me, fucking me onto Xaden. With one hand wrapped around my throat, the other on my side, Azriel came inside me, the thick, bitter scent sending my mind spiraling. His thrusts didn’t stop, even as Xaden warned him he was close. 

Azriel stilled then, panting hot against the back of my neck. “You’re clenching so hard, pet. Such a good job at keeping it all inside you. Now do the same for Xaden. Let him fill you up, Yn.”

Xaden was far less controlled, those shadows over his shoulders whipping wildly as he fucked up into me hard enough to touch places he hadn’t yet. With a handful of movements, Xaden brought our hips flush together and he strained his neck, baring his teeth into the air. 

His noises would’ve been enough to set me off again had I not been so previously spent. 

It could’ve been hours that I laid between them, their cocks still buried inside me as they stroked my skin, stroked my hair and kissed me lazily. 

______

“Yn.” A gentle press of lips to mine. My eyes fluttered open and Xaden’s face became clearer. “There she is.”

“She awake?”

“Mhmm,” Xaden kissed my forehead. “Feeling better?”

I wiggled my toes to see if the feeling had come back. I just nodded, snuggling in deeper to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Good good,” he wrapped his arms tighter around me. “You were so good for us, Yn.”

“The best,” Azriel seconded, and a warm body pressed up behind me. “You were pretty out of it for about an hour. We cleaned you up as best we could with you mumbling about how much you loved to please us.”

I flushed in embarrassment, putting my hands over my face. “Cauldron damn me.”

“It was quite adorable,” Xaden murmured, prying my hands from my face. “And you were incredible.”

“So fucking incredibly,” Azriel agreed, tucking in close behind me. I carefully flipped over, looking at the shadowsinger. “You did such a good job.”

“It was easy when I had you two doing all the work for me,” I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Still cannot believe I just did that.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not.” I squashed down that possibility the second their hands had been on me. “It was perfect.”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, but Xaden visits every so often to Prythian. When he comes back, how do you feel about doing this again?” Azriel asked cautiously. “If you would like some time to think about it then-”

“Yes.” Why would I ever say no to being worshiped? “Absolutely yes.”

Both of them chuckled, Xaden molding his body to fit mine, arm laying across my stomach. “Told you we might ruin you for anyone else.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

A/N: Nesta has had many metamorphosises within the series, but one of my favorites is her relationship with her sister and how that has changed, especially Feyre. And when Noah dropped Stick Season and I heard Orange Juice, I just knew that it was Nesta and Feyre's song. This is short but hopefully sweet. Hope everyone enjoys! cc:@nestaarcheronweek

Read on AO3

The streets of Velaris are strangely quiet this time of evening, most of the residents either wrapped up in their homes or holed up in one of the local taverns for the night. The street lamps and building windows all flicker with golden fae lights, only adding to the ambiance. The first snow of the season falls in soft swirls, catching in Nesta’s hair and eyelashes and further adding to the quiet peace. Even her footfalls don’t make a sound against the snow dusted cobblestones as she walks.

The wrought iron fence that surrounds the River House comes into view, ivy twisting around the metal and up the stone of the home. Just the sight has Nesta’s heart pressing up into her throat, memories breaking free from their cage in the back of her mind and threatening to overwhelm her again. Her skin crawls at being back here again, standing in this place again.

For a moment, the snow melts away around her. For a moment, it’s green grass and flowers. For a moment, raucous laughter floats through open windows and billowing curtains. For a moment, it’s six months ago.

Shaking her head against the cloud of memories, Nesta unfolds the piece of parchment in her hands again, reading the slanting, looping script of her youngest sister.

Come over, please? The party’s gone slower

With a soft sigh, Nesta folds the parchment again, slipping it back inside the pocket of her dress. She swallows down the emotions welling in her chest and pushes through the front gate, following the footpath up the steps and to the front door.

She barely has to knock once before the door is pulled open, Feyre standing on the other side. She’s dressed comfortably with a soft looking sweater and leggings, golden brown hair the same shade as Nesta’s own tumbling down along her shoulders and spine. Though the sleeves hang long, Nesta can still spy paint flecks stuck to the skin of her fingers, can still spy the short nails that are indicative of the habit that still clings to her youngest sister from when they were girls.

“Nesta,” Feyre breathes, offering a small, friendly smile. “I’m so glad you could visit.”

Feyre steps back, gesturing with her arm for Nesta to step inside. Already, Nesta’s eyes start to flit around, noting everything that’s changed. Everything that hasn’t. Her eyes linger on the portraits in golden frames lining the large staircase, lining the hall that leads to the large living room beyond.

“There’s orange juice in the kitchen,” Feyre continues, drawing Nesta’s attention back to her and leading her down a different hall. “We bought it for Nyx, but it’s yours if you want it. I know you got sober.”

“Six months,” Nesta offers, following Feyre into the large kitchen. “On the dot.”

Feyre’s steps pause, and she turns to smile over her shoulder. “That’s great, Nesta.”

She continues deeper into the kitchen and toward the ice box, pulling the door open. Her hands hesitate, and while her back is turned, Nesta recognizes the way Feyre’s fingers curl and twitch, the way her shoulders stiffen. It’s clear that her sister is frowning at whatever she sees, more likely what she doesn’t see.

“Just tea is fine.”

“Right,” Feyre breathes, letting the door fall shut again. “Tea.”

Feyre turns her attention to the cabinets, rummaging to get the kettle full and placed over the flame. The clink of dishes, the shuffle of tea leaves, it all fills the space between them, breaking up the underlying tension threatening to bubble up and stifle them both. With a soft sigh through her nose, Nesta lets her gaze drift back toward the kitchen doorway. Toward the faces and voices she hasn’t encountered since she moved away from the city. They float down the hall and into the kitchen like ghosts on the breeze.

The whole city is like a ghost town, roots and branches twisting like limbs reaching toward her. Shadows creeping out from every corner and alleyway. Nesta feels as much as a stranger in Velaris now as she did six months ago. As much a stranger as she felt in her skin. As much a stranger as she felt in this family.

And if she closes her eyes, Nesta can still see that hillside she passed when she arrived. She can see the white stone, glistening as brightly as the snow that swirled around it. Can see the monument that rises like a beacon, like a ghost all its own.

“I saw father’s grave earlier,” Nesta comments, her voice quiet.

Feyre nearly drops the teacups in her hands, but steadies herself and she sets them down on the counter in front of Nesta. “Elain had the monument built. She tends to the flowers around it every week.”

Nesta hums, taking a sip of her tea. It burns almost as much as the anger flaring through her veins. Almost. No matter the time that’s passed, it still fills her like a raging sea, still scorches like those silver flames she’s tried to swallow down. There’s no escaping it some days. No way to stop it from pulling her and drowning her through her silent screams.

“You know,” Feyre begins, sliding the tip of her finger along the rim of her teacup. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you to come home for so long.”

“Velaris isn’t my home,” Nesta reminds her, dropping her gaze to the swirling liquid of her tea so she won’t see the expression she’s sure will take over her youngest sister’s face. “Besides, we both know I’m third in the lineup to your lord and savior of a High Lord.”

“That’s not fair, Nesta.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways.”

Feyre sighs, a sound that Nesta knows well, one that tells her that her sister clearly disagrees but is swallowing down her argument. “I didn’t think to ask you where you ended up after you left… or why you left in the first place.”

She says the last part quietly, her voice trailing off, and guilt roils through Nesta’s gut and cloys up her throat. But she refuses to let its roots twist around her ribs, refuses to let it settle. Because she still remembers how it felt six months ago. She still remembers every cut, every bruise, every open wound that festered beneath her skin. Every ache that weighed down her soul. She still remembers the way her heart felt changed until it was little more than an unwelcome intruder in her chest.

“After the war… after the Cauldron, really, everything changed,” Nesta explains, finally raising her gaze back to Feyre’s.

“I know that everything was difficult for you…”

“No, you don’t understand. The world had changed. My life had changed. My heart and my very soul had changed, and yet you hadn’t changed at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you find it strange that after everything that happened, you just went ahead and carried on? You came back here and celebrated as if nothing had happened. Everything had changed irrecoverably for me, and for you, it was just another day.”

“Nesta–”

“Did you know that the last time I drank, I was right here in front of your house? That I passed out right there in your lawn?”

Feyre’s entire face shifts with the admission, pain spilling through her blue eyes. “You–I didn’t know.”

“Gods, I must look like crow to you now compared to everything you have. Just pulling you down.”

Nesta pushes her half finished tea away from her, moving to step back and head toward the door, but fingers curl around her forearm, holding her in place. Feyre’s expression is pleading, but there’s understanding flickering beneath it as well. It’s the sort of look only a sister can give. One who shared the teeth and the claws. One who can recognize and see through any mask or bullshit.

A mirror in the truest sense.

“It wasn’t your fault, what happened to father,” Feyre tells her quietly.

Emotions clog up Nesta’s throat until she fears she won’t be able to breathe. But she doesn’t dare break away from Feyre’s eyes, doesn’t dare pull away from her sister’s grip.

“You didn’t put those bones in the ground.”

—

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[synthleeius]

drunken antics

a bitch is BACCKK🙏 i remember writing the start of this fic before i had this blog omg

lee!venti

ler!aether

Aether hummed, his feet moving to the pace of the city. Friday nights in Mondstadt were especially busy, and even though it was half past 11, various lights and lanterns kept the village lit as people made their way around the place for personal needs and what not. His floating travel companion had tapped out this time, claiming she was too tired to go out on any favours.

The honorary knight walked down the paths near Flora's flower store set up, eventually reaching the lower levels of Mondstadt near the tavern. Glancing at the barrels in front, he quickly decided that going in for a few hello’s wouldn’t be too bad. With a quiet bell chime, the Angels Share noise set into his ears. With tables full and bard playing a lyre at the back. It set a nice ambiance, as he walked up to the ba-

“Traveller! Wha- *hic* Are you doing here?”

recognising the high pitched voice. He turned to meet the eyes of Mondstadt’s famous bard. Venti quickly spinned the chair around and stumbled off. Though, immediately falling into his dear friend wasn't quite what he was trying to do. But it didn't matter, he wrapped his arms around the knight tightly as Aether tried to pull him up to prevent him from falling.

“Ehe~! Aether..*hic* where.. Where have you beenn~? I haven- *hic* seen you in Mon- Monstadt for like.. ever. ehe..” he slightly rambled, huffing as the traveller finally stabilised his stance. “Venti.. who let you get this drunk?”

“I’m not drrun- drunk! jus- *hic* just happyyy~ ehehe.. Aether i'm all spinny.. you- can you pass my me-.. wait.. me my drink? yeah..” He giggled out, whining as aether threw their hand over his shoulder and led his arm around to their’s. “Come on, let's get you home okay?”

Venti gasped loudly, though not to be looked at twice with all the commotion in the tavern. “Whaaat? no!- nonono.. I still.. need to drink the rest..! Ae- tther.. pleasee? ill tell you a secret if you do!” he insisted, leaning over to the others ear and cupping his hands around his mouth as he spoke-

“I’m.. actually Barbatos. shhh.. you can't tell aannybody okay? its a secre- a secret.” He took his hands away and looked into his eyes waiting for a reaction. Aether couldn’t help but laugh a bit, faking a surprised expression. “Wow, really?” he gasped, his voice dripping in sarcasm. He reached into his back pocket and slipped a couple mora bills under the half filled glass. But knowing Venti, that wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover his tab. Poor master Diluc...

“ye- *hic* yeah! I'm like.. alot old. what's the word.. chemistry?” he mumbled, in deep thought. Which is probably why he didn't notice when Aether slowly led him out the tavern and got his own teapot out, because archons know where Venti spends his nights.

“Cen.. centuries! Yeah.. yeah that- that's the word. it means like.. centurie- oh! that was fast.. you're a fast walker..” he slurred his words, leaning his head on Aether’s shoulder.. “I’ll take you to bed, come on.” he insisted softly, leading him up the stairs and into his bedroom. Within seconds of noticing the bed, he tilted his head up all the way and reached out to it only for his arm to slump back down lazily.

Aether complied, sitting him up on the bed and reaching over to the side table to get a bottle of water. “..you- you're not gonna make me drink that. right?”

….

“..right?”

with a loud groan Venti flopped onto his back and turned away. “Nooo- sont- dont make *hic* -make me..”

“Come on, if you don’t drink this now you're gonna feel especially sick in the morning. Trust me, it's not fun..” he shuttered slightly, remembering the feeling of a particularly bad hangover.

“I don’t care! you- you're bad! you're a bad bad man Aether- you're the worst! i'm not- *hic!* touching your weird, clear, tasteless drink!!”

Aether sighed, setting the bottle back. “..You're drinking it, whether you like it or not. And if it means I have to take some drastic measures, so be it." He said, a serious facade on his face.

The drunkard bard seemingly taking it seriously had wide eyes and a small smile as he spoke;“Huh?! dr- *hic!* drastic! what are you gon- AH! Aethther! dohont- dohohnt yohou dahahare!”

In a swift motion, Aether hand gently moved his hands to scribble across Venti’s upper ribs, giggling softly along with him.

“Oh, I do dare. You know how to make it stop Venti~” The traveller smiled softly, his hands skilfully scratching in between the little bones all the way down to his waist. Venti dug his head into the mattress, kicking his feet out behind him as he squirmed. “ahahE!- noho! Ihi dohon’t wahahant to! goHo awahay!” His hands pressed into the mattress with all the strength he could muster up while like this (Which in all honesty wasnt alot, especially for an archon..) , his wide smile on display.

“Awh, Venti.. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very pretty smile?” He said softly, his fingers massaging into the other’s waist over the lazily tied corset. Venti let out a loud hiccup in between his giggling, shaking his head left to right. “eheno! stohhop teheasing meheee!”

Aether chuckled with a gentle tone in his voice, blunt nails dragging down to where his hips met his thighs, digging in between. “Oh, but I would never tease you, wouldn't even dream of it, Venti.”

Okay, now he was definitely teasing..

Venti’s legs continued kicking, his hands shot up at Aether’s shoulders with a tight grip. “What, you don't like it here? Right here?” The blonde spoke, scribbling his fingers along his lower hips.

“Aehetherrrr~! ihi am- I aham a archon!”

“Yeah, a very giggly one in your case.”

“Aham nohot!” He argued back even through the said giggles, denying any sort of claims. “A drunk one?” Aether counter-offered, his hands travelling down to squish at the sides of his thighs.

“Nohot druhunk! juhust hahappy! I alreheady said that, I thi- wahait wait!” He repeated his phrase from earlier before jolting, his knees trying to curl up to his chest. “What, hm? You're gonna drink some water now?” He asked, fingertips momentarily stilling but continuing to rest on the spot.

“Waihit- juhust wahait..” He insisted, letting out soft breathy giggles as he caught his breath. “Thahats- thats not fair.”

“Ihits not fair?” The traveller repeated, a slight laugh of his own leaving his lips. “And why is that?”

“Because- behecause I have my things on! And thats- its soho bad, so you can’t.” He explained drunkenly, a hand pulling at his own tights to give further example.

“Oh I can’t?” He pressed his finger pads into the small diamonds on the patterned tights, enlightening a giggly gasp from the other. “Are you sure I can’t?”

“..No.” Venti mumbled, a soft squeal escaping his throat when he felt the hands suddenly attach themselves onto his knees and squeeze.

“You're so stubborn, just give upp~ I need to get you to bed, yknow.” Aether shrugged, talking like he was completely oblivious to what he was doing.

Venti didn’t reply, maybe a few babbles about how ‘he wasn’t a baby’, which the blonde simply countered with the reminder that he had his head thrown back because he was just that childishly ticklish. He honestly had never seen him shut up so quickly.. he's definitely gonna use this for blackmail.

“Okahay okay!” He exclaimed dramatically inbetween his squeals, “Stohop, ihim gohonna die!”

“Dramatic, but okay.” He chuckled, rubbing the left over tingles away. “You're done with your little tantrum? You’ll drink it?”

“..I want apple juice.”

“I’ll take it.”

[feytouched]

do you know of any perfumes that have a sort of medieval knight vibe? like if said knight wasn’t sweaty and stinky from battle, that is. i did a little searching on my own, but didn’t come up with any good results, so thought you might know!

ok so definitely yes i do, and also i love this question. some options, ranging from the literal to the idealised:

nevertheless, she persisted by bpal: joan of arc themed perfume. it's a bit of a polarizing one; the oudh and jasmine lean indolic and a little dirty, but i like that in this context. it's not stinky-stinky knight, but artistic-perfume-stinky knight. and there's a metallic aspect to it, like plate armour or blades. one of the more interesting scents i own tbh.

fighter by bpal: this one was too metallic and leathery for me. smells a bit like blood, it has that specific salty iron tang. definitely evocative tho.

vial of holy water by bpal: for the paladins out there. a fresh and clean cologne-type scent for the most righteous of knights; i really enjoyed wearing it until my bf stole it from me.

harvest mouse by zoologist: this is a jolly knight at a ren-faire tavern, enjoying a feast of sweet bread and ale. sun-warmed and rustic feel. soldier poet king by the oh hellos is playing in the background. perhaps a bit unsubtle, but fun nonetheless.

l'ombre dans l'eau by dyptique: hear me out. i know this is a rose fragrance. what do roses have to do with knights, you ask? idk but the dense green thorny foliage and shadowy ambiance of this scent make me think of courtly love, fairytales and arthuriana. this is a knight in a pre-raphaelite painting.

hermann à mes côtés me paraissait une ombre by eldo: a strange, sullen knight riding like a shadow through bare winter woods, headed to a church to pray for absolution from some unspeakable sin. coffin dirt, church incense, cold air. i love this fragrance so much.

all of these are extremely different from one another so i can't promise you'll like any of them, but hopefully my vibe descriptions help you!

[bloodandthestars]

𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒.

❛ and i don’t mind you flirting, but honestly do you really wanna spend the whole night passing looks at me? ❜

— touchstarved. ais.

wc :: 2.7k

a/n : love that you guys like my first try at ais! hope you’ll enjoy this one just as much <3 a bit longer this time and idk fun? at least to write. i tried my hand at a few others this time. i feel like I may have gotten vere wrong so i definitely want opinions on that.

If the Wet Wick was ever empty, it’d be an entire crime. Luckily, if everyone was on their best behavior tonight, none would have to occur.

Your fingers are loose around a glass of gin. You intend for it to be your first and only glass of alcohol for the night. It was one of those rare nights where everyone was in one place— say for Mhin, who finds excuses in contracts to take care of in the night. “‘Better things to do than waste time with degenerates’— or something along those lines.” Leander shrugs his broad shoulders with a sip of his glass. He sets it on the bar counter. “It’s too bad, we all like-"

“Who is we-” Vere speaks with disgust in his emphasis.

“Some. Most. Most of us like their company.”

Vere scoffs, taking a sip of his flute. You let out a breathy laugh and Ais shrugs at Leander’s words, tasting his drink as well.

Background chatter fueled the ambiance of the tavern. Bloodhounds laugh and slam their drinks in various conversations behind you. Every now and then, you hear the wooden doors creak at the sign of a new person coming in and out of the busy space. Everyone has some kind of glass in their hand, say for Kuras, whose elegant voice speaks. “Mihn is a diligent person to be counted on.”

Leander’s lips break into his usual grin, with an arm swinging around the doctor's neck. Kuras doesn’t move an inch, as if used to such a gesture from the leader.

“See?” Leander says with a chip in his voice.

“We hear you, Leander.” Your voice chimes in

“We always do.” Ais places the rim of his glass to his lips.

Vere snickers, but Leander doesn’t take the teasing to a fault.

You hold your glass in the air with your hand. “We promise, we don’t dislike them.”

The mage is smiling still, even when Kuras steps away from his embrace. “Excuse me, but I must get back to work.”

“Aw, you sure?”

Kuras places his hands behind his back after adjusting his attire. He gives the room a nod of finality. You lift your glass as a motion of goodbye, Ais gives the same while Vere keeps his attention on his champagne. The doctor steps away, and you hear the wooden shutters open and close another time that night.

The silence between your four is entirely short with Leander around. He jumps over the counter from behind the bar, turning to address you and the others with another one of his grins. “Anyone up for trying one of my drinks?”

Vere rolls his eyes. “I don’t feel like it.” His voice flairs in its dramatics, placing a palm into his chin as he watches the bubbles in his drink dissipate. The fox’s elbow rests on the wooden counter where he sits next to Ais. “Besides,” His eyes narrow in his direction. “Who knows what you put in there.”

Leander’s smile grows wider. “But that's the best part.”

“Sure, for someone with nothing better to do.”

“Hey-!”

You watch the exchange, eyes going back and forth. You don’t notice the crimson eyes on you, at least not this time. He can hear the chatter next to him, sure. But why take notice of that?

Your gaze turns in his direction when you see Ais’s head nod in your way. “Gin again?”

Your eyes glance to the short glass resting in his hands. “Whiskey again?”

Ais gives you a faded smirk, making a motion with the drink before taking a sip. “That it is.”

“Then I’m not sure how you can comment on my personal taste.”

“That’s because you don’t have any.”

You frown at him, knowing all too well how he enjoys the sight. Your glass clinks onto the high table you’re leaning against when you sit it there. “I can have taste.”

“Sure you can.”

“I-”

“Gin or water. You get either or, every time.”

A scoff escapes you with a sarcastic undertone to your dialogue. “You have tasted the beer, right?”

“That one doesn’t count.”

“How so?”

“because everyone knows it's watered down and shit.”

Not another word falls from your lips. The oni wants a reaction as he usually did. And when you don’t give into it, a smirk creeps onto his face. “It’s alright, sparrow. I’m sure we still have plenty of time to fix that.”

You attempt to take your reaction to the minimum of rolling your eyes, to excuse him from ever giving him the satisfaction. God, how you wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face with every appearance at your dispense. No matter how much of a sight it was.

“Fix what?” Leander interjects with an ear to your conversation and your regard goes on him. You don’t notice the way the demon’s eyes dull behind another sip of his whiskey.

“Apparently, my taste in liquor.”

“At least someone said something about it,” Vere comments with a flick of his tail.

“You realize where we are, correct?” You wit back, earning a laugh from Leander that overshadows Ais’s huff of amusement.

“True,” Vere says primly with a final taste of his champagne disappearing past his lips. He looks over the counter to the usual suspects of wine bottles. Before he can pick out one to toy with, Leander quickly goes behind the counter and grabs the one he wants to properly pop it. The cork flies somewhere on the floor, disregarded in favor of refilling the fox’s glass. Vere gives Leander a sly smile of gratitude, with it disappearing as quickly as it comes. To battle a a bashful smile, the mage motions the bottle towards you and Ais. You both shake your heads at the offering.

“C’mon MC,” Leander shifts the bottle in your direction fully. “Might as well expand your palette now while we have the bottle open.”

Ais’s eyes dart off, lips falling to a flat line at his words. You consider the opportunity as you look into your own glass, ice diluting into whirls of purple liquid. You let out a sigh, a smile following after. “One sip.”

The ends of his lips quirk up into a large smile. “I’ll take anything I can get.”

“As we’re all well aware.” Vere cunningly remarks, though his eyes are set on the shiny new wine glass placed on the counter.

You raise a brow. “Just a glass would’ve been fine.”

Vere groans. “You’re hopeless, dear.”

Leander puts the sentiment into kinder words. “It wouldn’t feel right. Besides, why waste the opportunity to make it special?”

Ais watches as you press your lips press together to resist a smile with narrow eyes. You watch as a dark red pours into the tall glass in a small amount. Leander shifts it across the counter, where you eye it in the Wick’s gold lighting. You push yourself off of the high table, grabbing the stem of the cup. The scent was strong, automatically hitting your nostrils with it so close to your face. The wine swirls in your study, before placing the rim to your lips. Leander watches with attentive eyes, and so does another.

The taste is stark, your brows furrowing at the bitterness that greets your first. But then it slowly transitions to flavors of fruit. The zest lingers on your tongue after a swallow. You shut your eyes to contemplate the drink before opening them back on the group. “Alright…I could get used to that.”

Even Vere slightly smiles at the discovery. Leander laughs heartily. “Not so bad. right?”

You shake your head. The mix of alcohol causes you to let out a soft laugh, a hand quick to hover over your mouth after it. “Not at all.”

The mage blinks at the sound, a warmth creeping up his ears. It goes unnoticed by you, who passes the rest of your drink to Vere. He pours the wine to combine into his own glass. As he swirls his drink, his pink eyes glance over to Ais. In the notice of his silence, Vere remains in his own, sensing something amiss.

“Now that we have you started on wine,” Leander places his forearms out. “You’ll just have to divulge in my artwork next.”

“You mean concoctions?” Ais snorts at your words, grabbing Vere’s attention. “I’ve tried a few.”

“And there’s many more where that came from.” His voice turns to sing-song in order to convince you. You give him a long stare. Leander is charming, there’s no denying that. He’s got a way with words, and his smile is infectious. You’ve found yourself drawn to his energy and his carefree nature, always finding ways for you to loosen up. You let out a sigh once again. “And how could I refuse you when you pull out those eyes on me?”

A soft pink tints the mage’s cheeks. Vere perceives the sight, pink eyes connecting to Ais next, looking down at his hand— now tight when nursing his drink. There’s a twitch in the fox’s eye. His tail begins to wag in a menacing manner with an amused smirk appearing on his features.

Vere drapes himself against the counter, eyes looking at you with an enlightened voice. “You know, speaking from experience, another district has gorgeous tastes in wine. Some of them have been curated for years.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Vere lets out a low hum. “You must try them sometime. Perhaps Leander and I can accompany you to such an activity.”

Leander’s eyes brighten at the prospect, nodding along. “I think that’d be-”

A sudden yelp comes from behind you. You turn your head over your shoulder, everyone’s eyes following in the direction of drunken roughnecks shoving each other. Leander pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving a heavy sigh. His hand wipes his face, attempting to put a smile back on it. “I’ll be right back.”

The mage hops over the bar counter once more to handle the rowdiness. You turn your eyes back onto Vere with a raised brow, who now looks bored all of a sudden. “That opportunity doesn’t come with you trying to leave me dead in an alley, does it?”

Vere sips his wine with a purr. “You remain on your best behavior and I’m sure it won’t be.”

You’re not sure if it's being used to Vere threatening you through innuendos or the alcohol that makes you retort. “If anyone is in need of good behavior, it’s certainly you.”

“Aw, that sounds like the beginning of an awfully good punishment.”

Taking that as a cue to finish the conversation, you shake your head with a slight laugh. You press off of the high table, walking off to the bathroom with a pair of eyes following after. The owner of that gaze finishes the rest of his whiskey. He’s walking through the crowd when Vere looks at the empty cup on the bar counter. A crack in the glass earns of soft snicker from him.

You find your way to the bathroom through a hall of draped fabrics. After finishing up inside, you shut the door behind you and turn to a mirror on the wall. Covered fingers press to your temple as you rub in circular motions. Your hands then go to pat your face to dry extra water from it after splashing some in the bathroom. A smokey scent greets you before he does.

“Troubled?”

You wipe your face, catching blood-red eyes in the reflection. Your brow raises. “Not at all, but you seem to be.”

You turn to face Ais, crossing your arms. The demon now looks at you with a raised brow. “Do I now?”

“You got awfully quiet.”

“Maybe I was busy.”

You tilt your head at him. “Doing what exactly?”

He falls to silence, eyes set on you despite that. You turn back to the mirror, making sure the water was fully dry on your face. it was quiet for a little while till the oni speaks again.

“Leander’s a bit too eager tonight. You’d think he was wasted already.”

Your movements stop at his words and he’s quick to notice. You press your lips together, eyelids going down in thought. “Eager? Or socializing?”

“Neither of them can be good when it comes from him.”

Your attention goes back to your reflection. “To you.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

Your eyes go to him in the mirror. “Perhaps.”

“Then say it.”

Your posture straightens, turning back to fully face Ais. Your head motions with curiosity. “You seem…bothered at the prospect of Leander showing me things.“

His mouth remains shut at your words. Your back leans against the mirror. “I mean, did you really think I wasn’t aware of how you changed up?”

And it’s there where you get a reaction. A slight widening of his eyes allows you to further reach your conclusion. It was too hard to hide the flash of a smirk on your lips.

“I’m sure you didn’t plan on spending the whole night passing looks in my direction.”

He relaxes easily, so easily that it confuses you for a brief moment. His boots take steps towards you. A hand rests on his belts as the ends of his lips turn slightly upward. “You’d be surprised.”

You watch as he steps closer to you, eyes going up and down his stature till they reach his gaze. You study his expression, now being one you’re so used to— relaxed and confident even. You help close the space even further as you take your back off of the mirror. At this point, you’re about a foot away from each other, focused and quiet. His head leans down to take you in full, as he always does. Ais’s voice is low when he notes. “Are you implying that I’m jealous, sparrow? Of that desperate fool?”

Your lips part, such an easy target for him to capture. “Not sure.” You mutter. Your eyes scan his face, falling to his lips then back up to his eyes. “You tell me.”

It was strange to feel as though it was you getting a reaction out of him this time around. As you’re met with silence, your feet begin to move past him until you’re stopped by a hand on your forearm. His hold isn’t harsh, not pressing into your skin to cause you pain. It’s a simple grasp, keeping you next to him. You crane your neck a little to look up at him just as his head turns to the side to look down at you. You’re met with the sight of blood red, but never did you feel an ounce of fear from them. You knew by now, the demon would never hurt you. The intention would never cross his mind. So when you two remained still in that moment, your only thought went to what could possibly happen next—

“MC? MC, where’d you go?”

The voice is followed by the arrival of Leander. Both of you were barely able to fix yourselves to stand side by side instead.

“There you are!” He sets his hands on his waist. “I got worried for a second. Everything alright?”

You open your mouth to speak, and just as you do, you feel something warm against your lower back. Leander has no reaction, as he couldn’t see it. “Everything‘s fine, Leander. Just had to find the bathroom.”

Your smile reassures his concerned look, deferring it to Ais. The warmth on your back shifts, allowing you to recognize its shape: a hand.

The demon shrugs nonchalantly. “Had to go too.”

Leander’s nod is slow. Someone catches his attention with a shout of his name, turning to attend to the inquiry. You’re left alone with one another once again. You look up to find his eyes already on you, motionless in your presence. He can tell of the knowing look in your eyes, furrowing his brows at the thought. With the tiniest smile, you slip from his grasp. You head back to the bar, and he soon treads your heels. It seems words didn’t have to give you his answer.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Queen of Thieves - Chapter 3

Summary: A fulfillment of this prompt from @sjmkinkmeme. A Canon AU where half fae, con-artist Feyre makes an ill placed bet.

A contribution to @officialfeysandweek2023

✨shenanigans intensify✨

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

-

By the time Feyre made it back to the tavern, the sun had already set and the usual clientele had woken from their drunken stupors and managed to stumble back inside the reeking, too-hot tavern for another night of drinking and gambling.

She curled her lip as a puff of smoke wafted into her face the moment she stepped through the door, drifting from the fisherman who held his pipe lazily over his shoulder as he stared at the cards in his hand. The smoke didn’t cover the scent of fish that clung to his clothes, and the reminder that she was not the only one in this tavern who bore the marks of poverty gnawed at something restless inside of her.

At least here, the tattoos that crawled up her wrist were commonplace. The fisherman bore them—she could see the dark crest of a wave crashing over his collarbone, and as the male across from the fisherman pushed a stack of coins to the center of the table, she watched a black serpent slither up the side of his neck, too.

They sneered at her here, sure. But she fit in far better than she ever would across the Sidra, where the vendors tracked her with suspicion, and the High Lord stared at her like… like… like he either wanted to fuck her, or slide one of his cards against her throat.

She didn’t want to find out, even if she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was better to stay here, far away from him.

Besides, not all of the patrons looked like they’d crawled out from beneath the docks.

There was a distinct wariness in the air. Feyre watched this fisherman’s eyes slide away from his game, towards a group of High Fae males playing cards at one of the round tables in the corner. On occasion, young lords would find themselves on this half of the Sidra to experience the novelty of a night out in the rougher area of the city.

Feyre’s earlier brush with the High Fae had been harrowing enough. She had already spent hours wandering blindly along the shoreline, trying to admire the sun glimmering against the ocean without seeing the glassy, dead stare of that sailor. The last thing she wanted to do was attract the attention of more High Fae.

None of them had looked up from their card game, and Feyre quickly slunk through the crowd with the intention of hiding out in the attic for the rest of the night.

One of the regular patrons caught her arm with a leering smile. “No cards tonight, halfbreed?”

Feyre’s tolerance for males touching her without permission was growing razor thin. But she knew that if she started a fight, no amount of mind-tricks would sway the tavern keeper from kicking them out. And that was a risk she could not afford after what happened today. With a measured sigh, which was more for his sake than her own, Feyre stepped out of the male’s touch.

Her smile was edged, not that he was shrewd enough to notice. “Not tonight. I’m just here to enjoy the ambiance of the staggering drunks.”

That last part was spit, rather pointedly, at the tankard of ale hanging tediously from his fingers, threatening to spill at any second. With the liquor slowing his thoughts, it took him several moments to realize that he’d been insulted, and several more to think up a slurring, inarticulate response. “Ah, so you’re just here to look pretty, then?” He sneered, dragging his gaze assessingly over her body.

Feyre curled her fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to claw at his eyes. That was another thing too many males had been doing recently—staring at her like her body was all she was worth to them. And she was well aware that her body was all she was worth. What else did she have, really? A hand painted deck of cards that someone would buy for less than a copper in the marketplace, most likely out of pity? The reminder of it, of the power that they held over her with just that one, degrading sweep of her body, made something cold and dark and restless churn inside her.

Especially as he said, smug like he knew it would get under her skin, “Bet you’d look even prettier with that mouth around my cock.”

She wanted to reach inside his mind and twist at what she found, until something fractured and he was just a shell. Just an aimless, worthless body occupied by nothing inside. The exact thing that he saw when he looked at her.

Feyre quickly leashed that rage. It was always startling when her mind veered into such disturbing territory, and she blamed the direction of her thoughts on the horrors she had witnessed in the alleyway. This male was not worth her anger, nor was he worth rotting in a Night Court prison. Or worse.

She offered him a smile, not willing to give him the satisfaction of courting her anger. She said, voice sweet as honey, “You should see how pretty I’d look when I bit it off.”

He laughed. His eyes were still fixed on her mouth, like he thought she was bluffing. “I’d like to see how long that sharp mouth lasts once I have you bent over.”

“Sure,” she purred. “Got five hundred marks to spare?”

“Five hundred?” He pressed an unsteady hand to his chest, which rumbled with a deep, mocking laugh. Feyre stood her ground, unashamed of the price she set. If anything, she should be charging extra for needing to stand so close to the putrid, alcohol-stench of his breath. “Who would spend that kind of coin on a cheap human slut like you?”

She arched her brow. “How much money would you spend?”

A question that would undoubtedly wound her spirit, though it would be a good estimate for how much money he had on hand and was willing to part with. If it was a considerable amount, she’d find a way to win it off him. But if all he had was coppers, she’d go up to the attic and stop wasting her time.

“Fifty marks, tops.” Much more than she would have considered a male like him would be carrying. Enough to tempt her to stick around and witness as the male, after what appeared to be careful thought, added, “Maybe sixty if you let me put it in your ass.”

Oh. She was going to play him for everything he was worth. And then she’d win the clothes off his back for good measure, so she could have the satisfaction of knowing he’d be stumbling home as humiliated and vulnerable as he was trying to make her feel.

“Play me for it, then,” she said haughtily. “If I win, you give me sixty marks, no sex. And if you win, I’ll let you take me upstairs and do whatever you want to me free of charge. All you’d need to pay for is the room.”

It was a good deal. The best, and riskiest, that she allowed herself to offer to the sleazy males in this tavern. Sixty marks, plus the money she’d made off the captain, would almost be enough to afford one of the derelict apartments on this side of the sidra. It wasn’t exactly the artist’s quarter, but it would mean the three of them could turn in for the night without being harassed by drunks.

The male’s nose crinkled. “No deal, witch. I’ve seen you make that same offer too many times. As far as I’m aware, no one’s ever walked away with their dick wet.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

That voice.

Feyre froze. The male in front of her squinted his eyes over her shoulder. His pupils widened when he realized who the voice belonged to, and he stumbled one step back, stuttering, “T-the High Lord is here!?”

A very interesting reaction. One that made Feyre consider that the sixty marks he carried likely belonged to someone else, and hadn’t been obtained through… legal means. Not that she thought the High Lord would care. He had clearly come for a different reason, one that was causing Feyre’s pulse to rush as she slowly gathered the courage to turn around.

And there he was. The most beautiful male she’d ever seen. His violet eyes twinkled with amusement as they beheld her.

Feyre bowed her head. Was that customary? She had never met a High Lord before. Had barely exchanged words with any member of the High Fae, much less the ones with noble titles.

“Sorry, milord,” she said, also uncertain if that was how he should be addressed. The captain had just called him ‘High Lord’. “I’ve no interest in stealing money from you.”

“Ten thousand marks,” he said. Feyre’s jaw slackened. “If you win, you get it all and I walk away. And if I win, I’ll still give you the money. But I also get to take you home with me for a full day and—what was it, do whatever I’d like to you?”

Feyre straightened. Never mind the derelict apartment. With that kind of money, they could buy a place on the other side of the Sidra. Her sisters could well and truly leave this tavern behind. Hell, they could even hire a ship and sail to somewhere far, far away… wherever that might be.

Her throat felt raw.

“Deal.”

She extended her hand into the open air between them. The High Lord stared long enough that she began questioning herself. Was it a breach of social contract to shake hands with a High Lord? He probably didn’t want to touch her hand. And in the state of the tavern, she could hardly blame him.

Slowly, like the smile snaking over his lips, the High Lord reached out and curled his hand over her own. His was warm, and unnervingly steady. She thought she did a decent job at keeping her own hand still, despite the way her heart was racing as a new tendril of ink whorled over her skin, just below her elbow.

This was the most dangerous man in the world. And she’d just agreed to be his plaything.

Only if she lost. And Feyre never lost. But, from the way the High Lord cocked his head, sizing her up like she was his new prize he’d already won, she had the sense that he never lost, either.

Their clasped hands lingered a heartbeat too long. Feyre withdrew hers awkwardly, her skin tingling in the absence of his touch, and she wondered if the game had already started. If he was trying to throw her off by holding her hand too long.

He flashed a wide smile. “Would you like me to buy you a drink, before we start?”

“I like to play with a clear head,” she answered, a bit mechanically.

The High Lord shrugged and made a sweeping gesture towards the long, wooden table. “Lead the way, then.”

It was hard to imagine a High Lord sitting on the stained communal benches, and it was equally laughable watching him actually take a seat at the scarred table, littered with tankards and half-consumed glasses of amber liquids. Most of the fae that had been sitting at the table found somewhere else to be, but some stayed, curious. They edged towards either end of the table to give the High Lord ample space.

The old wood groaned as Feyre took her spot on the bench across from him, wondering what she had gotten herself into. The High Lord was watching her, the same way he had been in the alleyway. Marking every breath she took, every subtle shift of her weight. Searching for her tells, or something else?

“The game is very simple,” she began.

“So I’ve heard,” he said in that rich voice, causing Feyre to wonder what else he had heard. He’d known her name. Feyre Archeron, the witch of Velaris. They only called her that because of the cards, because they could never figure out how she always won this game without fail. Even when playing with cards she’d never seen before.

If that was consistent with what the High Lord had heard, he certainly didn’t look nervous. Intrigued, maybe. The way a tinkerer would regard a piece of clockwork, like he wanted to pry her open just to see what made her tick.

Trying not to let her fingers shake, Feyre reached into her pocket for the deck of cards she regularly carried, not trusting to leave them in the tavern since they were the most valuable thing she owned. Her only way of making money, short of selling her body.

Most people, like the now dead captain, protested when Feyre produced her own deck of cards.

Not the High Lord.

He leaned forward as she passed the deck towards him, eyes glinting like the game had just become all the more fascinating. He ran his thumb curiously over the edge of the card pile and she tried not to think about what he was capable of doing with just one of those cards and a small flick of his wrist.

Did she even want to win, if it risked his wrath?

A minute passed. Then another.

The High Lord was waiting for her and she was trying to remember how to speak through the apprehension building in her chest. She swallowed to force moisture back into her mouth. “Shuffle and cut the deck as many times as you would like. Then, draw a card from the top. I will tell you what it is.”

The High Lord’s attention finally moved away from her face to examine the deck. She took the small moment of reprieve to take a shaky breath, before his eyes flickered back to hers and she held it again.

“You must be very clever to have never lost this game,” he said. There was praise in those words, but it was undermined by suspicion. Feyre didn’t let herself react. Even as he leaned back and crooned to himself, “What’s your secret, I wonder?”

By the Cauldron.

“Luck,” she answered, trying to emulate Nesta’s ability to appear utterly bored and unimpressed by his questions.

Judging from his cat-like smile, it wasn’t very effective. “The Mother and her Cauldron must look down favorably upon you, if you’ve never once lost.”

Feyre didn’t buy for a second that he believed luck or The Mother had anything to do with it. The Mother surely had better things to do than help a poor female con drunks out of their money. And for someone like him, who never once needed to worry where his next meal was coming from, to act like a small card trick was the epitome of good fortune… It was too much to hold her tongue about.

“Their favor is reserved for the fae in positions like yours, High Lord.” Her words were sharp enough that any of the fae within earshot snapped their heads towards her, hardly believing the boldness she’d taken with their High Lord. Oh no, she thought, watching his eyes darken. Too bold. Thinking, again, of that bloodied throat in the alleyway, she quickly added, “If the Cauldron is helping me win at cards, I can only assume it’s the work of pity.”

He pressed his lips together. His expression was unreadable, but his voice had lost some of its humor. “I don’t presume to know the will of the Cauldron. It eddies and flows in ways that are mysterious to me.”

There was a pause, like he expected those words to be meaningful to her. Feyre rarely thought about the Cauldron. She simply wasn’t the sort of being that it would make plans for.

She jutted her chin towards the deck laid in front of him. “Pick your card, High Lord.”

Rather than cut the deck, he simply pressed two fingers atop the stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. He assessed each of them carefully, though they were identical from the back, before selecting one card with what seemed to be great deliberation.

The entire tavern watched as he raised that card to his face, shielding it carefully in his palm so that even the onlookers craning their necks wouldn’t be able to see its contents. His eyes slid to hers, two violet moons peeking over the top of the card.

“I suppose though I’m the one holding the card, our fate is now in your hands.” She couldn’t see his smirk, but she could hear it in his voice.

Everyone’s attention was on her. This is where she decided how badly she wanted to win. What would be the consequences of losing? More importantly, what would be the consequences of winning? Was a High Lord’s ego as fragile as a merchant sailor’s? She could imagine he was used to getting everything he wanted, and she’d already turned him down once.

She’d promised he could do anything he wanted to her. What if he was a sadist? Her mind didn’t even want to entertain the ways he could torture her if he so pleased.

Feyre stared into those violet eyes. The prettiest color she’d ever seen. She imagined herself reaching towards them, following an invisible chord that tied her to the High Lord, one she could use to repel backwards if she needed to. His mind waited on the other side, a black, impenetrable wall of adamant. Of all the minds that Feyre had dug inside, she’d never seen anything like it.

It stretched endlessly into the void of darkness—of him. Feyre reached up, brushing an awed mental hand against the barrier. Like a mountain cat arching into her touch, it seemed to purr, and then relaxed its guard. His mind opened for her, and she wandered inside, curious to discover what waited for her inside the mind of a High Lord.

She stepped into an antechamber, the forefront of his thoughts where she expected to find the card he’d pulled from her deck. The men she played against were usually chanting it, over and over, like they were shouting the word towards her.

It was quiet inside the High Lord’s mind. No words she could grasp onto, no images or symbols, or any inkling of what he saw through those unnervingly beautiful eyes. Complete and utter silence.

Then, a voice. Slinking around her ankles like a cat.

That’s a neat trick, indeed.

Feyre stumbled back. She tried to dart from his mind, to grab hold of that golden chord and follow it back to her own body, but she slammed against an immovable force. A shield. She was on the other side of that great wall, trapped inside.

That voice purred to her, utterly pleased. There’s certainly more to you than meets the eye, Feyre Archeron.

Distantly, from her physical body, she heard the High Lord croon to her, “So, what’s my card?”

And in the void of his mind, as he curled his presence around her like makeshift bindings, he taunted, Go on, love. Guess.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t flee. Couldn’t even guess the word if she wanted to.

Then, like a pair of scissors through a taut ribbon, the connection between them was severed, and she was hurtled back into her physical body, where she nearly collapsed against the table.

Her breath was coming out in small, shallow pants. Every eye in the room was on her, and she was certain to everyone other than the High Lord, it looked as though she were simply uncertain. Second guessing herself.

Gods, what had just happened?

Still half-panicked, she blurted the first card that came to mind. “The Veritas. The Orb of Truth.”

The High Lord’s expression was entirely unreadable as he stared at his card, pausing long enough to make even the passive onlookers shift nervously. Feyre curled her hands into fists beneath the table, trying to stop them from trembling.

“It looks like the Cauldron has flowed in your favor once more,” the High Lord said, resting his card on the table.

The faeries that had made themselves scarce were crowding around, now, unsubtle in the way they were craning their heads to see the card the High Lord had laid face up on the table.

A crown sat proudly in adjacent corners of the card, and a third, more elegant, crown laid its center atop a jeweled hilt of a silver sword. Feyre remembered painting that card after visiting the Palace of Thread and Jewels and spying the blacksmith in his shop, railing a hammer atop a glowing slate of metal. It was the first time she had ever been tempted to steal for something other than survival.

The Queen of Thieves.

“Looks like you’ll be coming home with me, my little Queen of Thieves.”

Over his shoulder, the same patron from earlier began laughing. “It’s about time someone put that little human whore in her pla—”

He cut off suddenly, his hands flying to his throat to claw at his neck as if someone had wrapped their hands around it. The High Lord assessed the man coolly.

“I don’t recall speaking to you. Would you like to keep this tongue?” The male nodded frantically. “Good. Then I suggest swallowing it. Before I cut it off and make you.”

The male gasped as he was released from whatever hold the High Lord’s magic had taken. Feyre tried, and failed, not to consider that if he was willing to make those kinds of threats in public, what would he be interested in doing to her within the privacy of his own home? The High Lord looked her over slowly, likely entertaining the very same. Cataloging all the things he could do to her, and precisely which one he wanted to start with.

“Pack your things, Feyre darling.”

Their eyes met.

He smiled, just like he’d done when he slit his own captain’s throat.

Then he leaned forward, whispering sweetly to her, “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

[themidnightleo]

Full Circle

DWC- Day 2- Suppress/Pastel

Another day dawned upon Stormwind, and Leo found himself navigating its streets with caution. The past few months had seen him keeping a low profile, laying low and hidden from the limelight, all thanks to a daring heist he had orchestrated against a renowned tavern within the city walls. Now, tentatively stepping onto the cobblestone pathways, he couldn't help but notice the lackluster ambiance that surrounded him, despite the city's usual bustle.

As he wandered through the maze of canals and districts, his journey led him to Lion's Rest, where a familiar figure caught his eye amidst the crowd—a certain ginger-haired dame.

GiGi Fiske.

GiGi had always been more than just a friend to Leo; she was his confidant, the one person with whom he shared his deepest secrets—something he couldn't bring himself to do with anyone else, not even his former partner in crime. Approaching her, Leo was serenaded by the gentle strains of a lute, played skillfully by a magenta-haired elf standing nearby—a sight and sound he had sorely missed.

After exchanging greetings with GiGi, Leo's attention was drawn back to the bard, whom she introduced as Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne—a name that sparked recognition within him.

Trist'Ayran Ambrosio-Autumnrayne was his name.

Gif by Kotlass on YCH.Commishes

There was an undeniable allure to the lute player, a stark contrast to Leo's own demeanor. Clad in vibrant teal hues, the elf's attire screamed of brightness, his hair a striking color that caught Leo's eye. Despite the exuberance in his appearance, a somberness hung in the air as the lute's melancholic melody filled the space. Leo stood at a distance, observing the bard with keen interest. He noted the fluid movements, the subtle flicks of wrists and ankles that set the bells adorning Trist into motion, adding depth to the sorrowful tunes. Everything about the bard seemed to radiate sadness to those who paid attention.

Yet, as people passed by, smiles adorned their faces, greetings and compliments showered upon Trist for his masterful performance. It was indeed a captivating display, but they failed to grasp the pain concealed behind his façade.

Approaching the bard, Leo engaged him in conversation, each word tinged with a sense of desolation. The adeptness with which Trist crafted a façade of beauty to mask his inner torment intrigued Leo deeply. He felt compelled to delve further into the enigma that was the bard.

No, he NEEDED to unravel the mysteries veiled beneath Trist's cheerful exterior.

@daily-writing-challenge

[honeysunai]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

Gale Dekarios x female sorceress

During his travels to find a cure for the illithid parasites, Gale encountered an old flame in Baldur's Gate. author’s note: This is some sad love for our favorite wizard of Waterdeep. wordcount: 1.7k

As you graciously attended to the familiar faces in your bustling tavern, the entrancing tunes of the new bard added a magical note to the lively ambiance. Amidst the laughter and clinking of mugs, your world momentarily froze as the gaze of your first love, the renowned Wizard of Waterdeep, Gale, met yours. A surge of emotions coursed through you, causing an unfortunate mishap - two drinks slipping from your grasp. Time seemed suspended, your heart echoing the unexpected reunion. Swiftly regaining composure, you knelt to address the spill, apologizing to the patrons.

"Hello, y/n," Gale spoke with a gentle tone, bending down to offer a helping hand.

"Don't worry about it," you replied, standing up and disposing of the remaining ale from the dropped mugs.

"I didn't know you were in Baldur's Gate."

"How would you have known? You left long before I did," bitterness seeping into your words as you magically crafted drinks to entertain the guests.

He chuckled. "Never lost your sparkle either."

"Gale, I don't know why you're in town, but go bother someone else." Frustration and unresolved emotions lingered as you went back behind the bar.

"You're a talented sorceress; why are you wasting it?"

"Manners have lost you, it seems," you said, avoiding his gaze while cleaning mugs. "Besides, I was given a gift I didn't earn, that's what you told me once. So no, I am not wasting anything that wasn't already wasted."

"I was a prick, wasn't I?" He chuckled. "All I'm saying is that you could become so much greater than you already are! There's Sorcerous Sundries a few streets further; I'm sure they'd be honored to have you there." You scoffed at that.

"If you're able to get rid of the stick up Lorroakan's ass, maybe I'll reconsider." Gale's laughter echoed in the tavern. "Look, Gale, it might not be the same adventures we used to have, chasing fairy tales, dancing, and singing in the inns of Waterdeep, but this is my life now, and I am content with it."

"Content is not the same as happy."

"Well, you don't get to decide that for me." You finally looked up at him with a bitter expression.

"I know you, y/n ╴."

"No, you don't, Gale, just as I don't know the man I'm looking at right now." You almost burst out. "If you're not buying drinks for you or your companions, I'm going to ask you to leave, please."

"Understood," he sighed before leaving the Elfsong.

After a long day at work and dealing with unpleasant company, you yearned for the solace awaiting you at home. The weight of the day clung to your shoulders as you eagerly anticipated the embrace of a long lavender bath, a sanctuary for your weary soul. The mere thought of the calming scent and warm water offered a respite from the chaos that had unfolded throughout the day.

"By the Gods." You gasp as you find Gale sat by your door step. "Did you wait for me this entire time?"

"I have," Gale admitted, his smile carrying a hint of both longing and remorse. "Wasn't hard to find your house as well, an eye carved on the door for Helm to watch over you."

"Can't be too careful."

"Also, you have your odd friend on your roof," he mentioned, referring to Melusine, your crow.

You cross your arms over your chest. "You're lucky she didn't attack you; she holds you dearly in her heart."

"Does her mistress?" He smirks, but you weren't in the mood to give in his question.

"Gale, what do you want?" He stood up and approached you. In the past, his gentle and caring gaze had the power to make you falter, but not today. You held your ground, meeting his eyes with a newfound strength that echoed the resilience you had cultivated since those earlier, more vulnerable years.

His towering presence no longer had the same effect it once did. You could sense the familiarity in his gaze, the memories of shared moments and the echo of emotions, but it no longer held the power to sway you as it once had. The strength you had discovered within yourself over the years stood as a shield, protecting you from the vulnerability that used to accompany his gentle eyes. "I always wondered where you left." He spoke so softly it made your heart rattle. "I saw you that day, when you left Waterdeep, you just left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye."

"They've had enough of one wizard, they didn't need a sorceress." You retort. "Why would I look back Gale?" You ask him as if it was obvious. "Why would I want to look back at you? You and your books, your wine and your tower?" Your voice was breaking as your anger was finally showing. "We both know you only had eyes for Mystra and that's why I didn't bother to see or even wonder if you were okay with me leaving, because I knew you wouldn't care."

"It's not like that—"

"Don't lecture me; gods know you loved to do that," you scoffed with tears in your eyes. "Gale, you left me for Mystra. You chose her over me, and I just couldn't compete. Plain and simple. When I finally moved on, I found my way to the center of Baldur's Gate and made a name for myself here. It's far from perfect, but I like it here." Your words lingered for a few beats, he never moved his gaze form your eyes. "You were my first love and I've loved you deeply and wholeheartedly for all the years we were together even when we hated each other younger, but you shattered my heart like what we had meant nothing to you."

"I know I chose Mystra, and for that, I carry the weight of regret every single day. I've replayed the scenes of your heartbreak, seen the tears I caused you, and it haunts me. These years of absence have been a relentless ache in my heart, and you, my dear, have never left my mind nor my heart."

"Gale—"

"I thought what I was yearning for was Mystra's embrace and the power that came with it," Gale continued, his voice trembling with sincerity, "but she never had your warmth, the gentle cadence of your laugh when I fumbled with my words. She never had that unique glint in her eyes when she looked at the world—not like you do. Mystra could never hold a candle to you, and it was my foolishness, swayed by her enchanting promises, that led me astray from the love that was rightfully yours. It is a regret that lingers, a wound that time has failed to heal." A single tear fell from your eye and Gale's gentle hand caressed your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb. "Your absence in my life has been a constant reminder of what I let slip away. The echoes of your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes haunt my dreams. I wish for the chance to turn back time, to rectify the choices I made that tore us apart. My biggest regret is not realizing sooner that you were the true magic in my life. Y/n, you meant the world to me."

His remorse, like an open wound, echoed through the room, and you felt the weight of his regrets pressing on your heart. His words had stirred emotions long buried, and the ache of lost love resurfaced.

The vulnerability in Gale's eyes mirrored the sorrow in your own, creating a poignant tableau of two souls bound by a history neither could escape.

Without uttering a word, you stepped closer to Gale, closing the distance that time and choices had carved between you. His gaze remained fixed on you, a mixture of desperation and hope in his eyes.

You lifted a trembling hand to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his lips. His arms enveloped you with an intensity that bordered on desperation, as if he feared you might once again slip away from his grasp. In that embrace, you felt the raw passion that had long been buried beneath layers of regret and longing.

Gale held you as though you were the very air he inhaled, and for the first time in a long while, he was truly breathing. The warmth of his embrace became a lifeline, a resurgence of life in a heart that had been burdened by the absence of your presence.

Your lips parted and he leaned his forehead against yours, nose touching. A soft smile plastered on his handsome face.

"Only when you truly get let go of Mystra, will I let you back into my heart, Gale Dekarios." You promised him. "I've heard from Melusine of your condition." You admit. "I may never had looked back, but someone had to check on you, you were always the one getting into odd mishaps. If not me, then who?" You softly chuckles.

"In the meantime, just know that you have me whole, my body, soul and heart, my darling." His lips pressed to your forehead.

You hesitated before speaking. "Come on, it's late." You nodded towards your home. "We should get to bed." You'd hope he'd take the hint and follow you to your bed.

"I can't, because if I do follow you to bed. I'll never leave you again and I would forsake the purpose that brought me here in the first place, and the illusion of having an eternity to revel in each other's company would dissipate." Him and his pretty words... You nod before he kissed you, a cascade of raw passion that hinted at the promise of a more beautiful tomorrow, one intricately entwined with him.

"Well, finish quickly. We have much to discuss and catch up on." You share a soft smile before he eagerly steals a kiss, as if collecting a bit of luck wherever he may need it.

"Indeed we do, love." He told you before he slowly made his way to his unknown whereabouts. Hoping he'd ever see you again.

[hanvanmusic]

Medieval Journey: Cinematic Scenery & Relaxing Music | Tavern Ambiance & Lofi Instrumentals

Step back in time and immerse yourself in a 'Medieval Journey.' This video offers you a unique blend of cinematic medieval scenery and soothing tavern ambiance set to the tune of relaxing Lofi instrumentals. Perfect for studying, working, or unwinding, our #MedievalMusic will transport you to another era, while the stunning visuals of #MedievalBeauty provide a calming backdrop. Experience the soothing rhythms of life in a medieval tavern with this atmospheric compilation. Remember to Like, Share, and Subscribe for more immersive, historical experiences. #MedievalAmbiance #TavernMusic #LofiInstrumentals #HistoricalJourney

[seaoftales]

Finding a tavern as quest as this one was a rarity. A few patrons sitting around at tables or by the bar, conversations being held in murmurs, no pirates about to be way too loud for his tastes. The swordsman preferred a more peaceful ambiance than a loud one, so he settled at one of the tables closer to the bar, ordering some food and a bottle of red wine. He'd been famished after his last voyage during which he'd run out of food, foolishly miscalculating the supplies needed.

It was rare for Mihawk to spend more time than needed around people, and food was an exception. One might think that the man lives off of sarcasm and red wine, and while that wasn't too far off from the truth, the man still had to eat.

His more or less quiet mealtime was interrupted when the door burst open, a large group of undoubtedly pirates entering the tavern. He initially didn't pay too much mind to them, rather observing and trying to figure out who was who, and who was in charge.

It wasn't until they started getting louder, singing and laughing, that Mihawk finally glanced in the general direction of the young woman who was clearly their captain.

"My, aren't you a lively bunch."

@marriageproposallola ♥'d

[gensfuckin]

Serenade of Hidden Love

Venti x fem!Reader

Word Count: 757

A/n: this is self indulgent af, just fluff and comfort as venti confesses his love, I occasionally write poems, but I didn't know how to write a song as Venti xd, I'll get to your requests soon! Female reader

The lively ambiance of the Angel's Share tavern filled the air as laughter and merriment reverberated within its walls. Amidst the crowd, you, a vibrant and extroverted individual, had a knack for making flirty remarks and bouncing witty banter with anyone who dared to engage. No one was safe from your playful energy, not even the enigmatic bard, Venti.

At a corner table, Venti sat, his azure eyes twinkling mischievously as he strummed his lyre. You would often find yourself seated across from him, engaged in a battle of words and charm, both of you trying to outflirt the other. The energy between you was electric, the comments bouncing back and forth like a lively game.

Diluc, the stoic owner of the tavern, would often sigh and roll his eyes at your antics, convinced that there was more to your dynamic than mere friendship. Others in the tavern speculated the same, murmuring and exchanging knowing glances. Yet, whenever anyone would ask about your relationship, you would dismiss it with a dismissive wave and a playful wink.

"We're just friends," you would insist with a mischievous grin. "We don't like each other like that."

Secretly, your heart longed for something real, a love deep and true. But you couldn't fathom that Venti's teasing was anything more than a friendly game, afraid that revealing your feelings would lead to rejection. Instead, you chose to bury your desires beneath a confident charade, captivating the room with your sparkling personality.

One particularly vibrant night at the tavern, after a raucous round of jokes and drinks, Venti leaned in closer, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "Care to accompany me for a walk, my enchanting companion? There's a place I'd like to take you."

Without hesitation, you nodded, and together you ventured into the moonlit streets of Mondstadt. The night was calm, and a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying the faint scent of Cecilia blossoms.

As you strolled with him at your side, Venti's expression grew more earnest. He stopped beneath a moonlit archway, a secluded spot away from prying eyes. The twinkle in his eyes turned into a tender gaze, and he began to strum his lyre, creating a melody that tugged at the strings of your heart.

The sweet sound of the lyre filled the air, and Venti's voice harmonized with the soft notes as he sang his heartfelt song:

"Deep in the shadows, a love untold,

A charming bard and a maiden of gold.

In playful banter, their hearts entwined,

An enchanting melody, secrets confined.

She, vibrant and beautiful, a charismatic fire,

He, a mischievous soul, filled with ignited desire.

Their words danced, a flirtatious duet,

But beneath the jests, a love deep and hidden yet.

Oh, darling, can't you see?

You're the enchantment that captivates me.

With every word and every glance,

You've won my heart in this playful dance."

As Venti finished his song, the realization washed over you like a wave. The words, the melody—they were about you. Surprised and elated, your confident charade faltered as doubt seeped into your thoughts. In a vulnerable moment, you asked, "Are you sure, Venti? You're you and I'm just... me."

Venti's gentle smile melted away any lingering insecurities. He drew closer, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Windblume, you have bewitched me with your spirit and wit. You are more than worthy of my love," he reassured you, his voice as soothing as a lullaby.

"And do you know what, my lovely menace?" he added, a mischievous glimmer returning to his eyes. "You won our game. You captured my heart, just as I captured yours."

From that moment on, the usual banter at the tavern transformed into deep and sensual conversations, heartfelt remarks replacing mischievous teases. The town of Mondstadt couldn't help but take notice of the change, quickly realizing the shift in your relationship. Congratulations and well-wishes flooded in from friends and strangers alike.

"Finally!" Kaeya exclaimed, clapping his hands. "We were placing bets on who would confess first. Rosaria owes me 500 mora."

Diluc, observing the transformation of his once-rowdy patrons, couldn't help but feel relieved. His stoic expression softened as he watched you and Venti exchange affectionate glances, their love for each other radiating like a beacon.

In the end, the playful game of flirts had blossomed into a deep and meaningful connection, a love story hidden beneath the veil of mischief. With Venti's serenade and heartfelt confession, the bond you both shared became an unbreakable melody, harmonizing the hearts of the bard and the charismatic maiden.

[salembutnotthecat]

tw emeto, emetophobia

The familiar strumming of Meadow's guitar filled the Whiskey Creek Tavern, as she took the stage amidst the warm cheers and applause. Her Appalachian country accent added a touch of authenticity to the rustic ambiance of the place.

Yet tonight, something felt different. As she sang, a knot formed in her stomach, a sensation she initially brushed off as pre-performance jitters. Her voice wavered slightly, and she found herself attributing it to nerves rather than acknowledging the unsettling feeling creeping through her body.

She glanced at April, who stood near the stage, smiling warmly, her eyes filled with pride and support. Meadow managed a weak smile back, attempting to quell the rising unease within her. The lights felt too bright, the air too thick, and her fingers, usually nimble on the guitar strings, felt clumsy and uncertain.

The first few songs went by, but with each passing minute, her stomach seemed to tighten more. She paused between songs, taking a sip of water, hoping to ease the growing discomfort. Her mind raced, attributing her queasiness to the nerves that typically accompanied her performances.

But as the evening wore on, the discomfort intensified. It wasn’t just nerves; it felt like something more insidious, crawling beneath her skin.

Meadow fumbled with the strings, her once-fluid movements turning clumsy. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she had to pause mid-lyric, gripping the microphone stand for support. Luckily, Meadow was a performer, she could sell anything as being part of the performance.

April was the only one she couldn’t sell to. And she knew that, she just didn’t want to talk about it.

April’s gaze didn't escape Meadow's notice. She pushed through another song, but her body protested louder with each chord she strummed.

As she finished the set, she excused herself. The audience bid her farewell with understanding nods and murmurs of encouragement. She wished she could have stayed longer. She loved performing. Just, not tonight.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she couldn't shake the growing sense of fatigue.

Meadow tried to make it to the back room. But her stomach lurched and she detoured, heading for the bathroom instead.

Inside the dimly lit bathroom, Meadow leaned against the cool tiled wall, her breathing ragged. She splashed water on her face, hoping to quell the rising nausea. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

“You don’t look so good, sweetheart. What’s goin' on?” April's voice held a mixture of worry and care as she entered the bathroom, having followed Meadow.

Meadow winced as her stomach twisted again.

“I don’t know whats up momma…” Meadow sighed, “I thought it was nerves but… I really don’t feel so good now.”

April approached, placing a hand on Meadow's forehead. “You feel a bit warm, honey. Ain't just nerves, I reckon.”

Meadow shook her head, “Can’t be. Don’t wanna be-“

Meadows words cut off in a dry heave, forcing her to go in front of the toilet, her breathing shaky as she felt her panic rise in sync with her nausea, and most likely her dinner.

Meadow fought against the churning turmoil in her stomach, desperately hoping to stave off what felt inevitable. Her hand trembled as she reached for a paper towel, wiping her mouth in a futile attempt to quell the rising panic.

Meadow felt her stomach gurgle, feeling sick and queasy and definitely within moments of throwing up despite her best attempts not too. A sick burp followed the gurgle and she coughed some acid into the toilet.

“Oh sugar,” April sighed, rubbing Meadow’s back with one hand, the other holding back Meadow’s dark brown hair, laced with feather extensions and cute flowery clips, “Come on songbird, get that out of your stomach.”

"I can't," Meadow gasped, the edge of her voice laced with distress. "Please, not this."

“It's okay, sweetheart. Sometimes our bodies just gotta do what they gotta do." April said, just trying to talk to Meadow to relax her.

Tears welled up in Meadow's eyes. Despite her panic and disdain, the overwhelming urge to be sick seemed like it would win out. She felt the sharp pang of shame, the fear of losing control, a sensation she dreaded more than anything.

"It's alright, honey," April murmured, her voice soft and comforting. "You're not alone in this. Let it out, you'll feel better after."

Meadow's body tensed, a futile attempt to suppress the rising nausea. Her throat constricted, and the overwhelming urge to retch grew stronger. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying desperately to hold back the inevitable.

It’s empty, save for a dry heave behind her hand.

Meadow winced, hugging her stomach tightly, hoping to stop the queasiness and the nausea and…

And her body had other plans. A surge of sickness tore through her, and she couldn't contain it any longer. She retched, her body convulsing as her stomach emptied itself.

She could feel it coming up, rising from her stomach to her throat and leaving aching cramps behind, which made her gag again. And again. And again. Each wave leaving her hunched over the toilet bowl, her chest heaving.

As the last wave subsided, Meadow slumped against the tiled wall, exhausted and shaken. Tears streaked down her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding her senses.

April remained by her side, offering a comforting presence. "You did great, honey. It's over now."

April grabbed some paper towels dampening them with cold water and carefully wiping the tears and sweat off Meadow’s face.

“Jeez momma…” Meadow said, “I still feel sick as a hungover preacher…”

April sighed, rubbing Meadow’s back, “Sugarcube, did you just start feeling all sick in your stomach?”

“Yes..? No..?” Meadow said, “I felt weird on stage but I didnt think it was this… this… this…” Meadow started gagging again, dry heaves as she tried to speak, forcing her to clutch her stomach again and gag.

April grabbed her hair again, and Meadow fell into round two of vomiting, the harsh waves sending her to her knees, much to the startle of the both of them.

Meadow let out a scared whine. She was panicking, vomiting always made her panic. But the panic made her gag harder.

“Alright songbird, easy now darlin’, you’ll be alright,” April tried to reassure.

Finally the vomiting stopped, and Meadow could tell she had nothing left. At least, for now.

Meadow was left shaking, terrified, she felt so sick, and she hated it.

“We need to take you home songbird,” April said, “As soon as you’re ready, alright? You need some water, some rest, and some good old fashioned care.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Darlin’, if youre calling me momma, I’m gonna treat you like my own girls,” April said, “I already think of you as one. You should know me good enough to know I’m gonna care for you like one of them too.”

[k-hippie]

CHAMPIGNAC CC and STUFF PART 1

Before the upload of Champignac, let's talk about the CC used in the World ...

Let's face it, there is a little bit more CC used in Champignac than in our other Sims 3 Worlds, because we really wanted to create a French ambiance for a French flavored world :)

Don't worry : except 2 or 3 things, we still use the same creators stuff aka mainly ATS ( Around the Sims 3 ) and Cyclone Sue ( from TSR ) for the build part. And of course, our own stuff which is not huge :D like our Rabbit Holes you may find here on Tumblr ...

Before any further, the fantastic towers you need to get in order to fully enjoy Champignac come from MTS ( Mod the Sims ) and have been converted from The Sims Medieval by Votenga ( MEDIEVAL TOWERS & BUILDINGS ) you may find there :)

I hope you'll enjoy discover all these gems in Champignac ;)

our "Stadium" is the Football Club by Norn @ MTS and tumblr

the Junk Yard is based on : Old Art Deco gas station yard by flora2 @ MTS :)

le Marché Bio ( Bio Market ) is based on Farmers Market by efolger997 @ MTS

the Supernatural Tavern is based on Old Tomes bookstore by Vera J @ MTS

the Bistro of Champignac is based on Rattlesnake Juice by bellakenobi @ MTS

the Vampire Lounge is fully based on Pastor John's Church by Diwtay @ MTS

the beautiful City Hall of Champignac is a simplified version of a community lot by Jeanpass ( here on tumblr )

the Museum of Champignac we named : Villa Medicis is a creation of Petalbot ( Palazzo Venezia )

Let's talk now about the CC ...

As you already know ;) ATS made a lot of French stuff for the Sims 3. In fact, it's even THE Place to find everything you need to create a French flavored World :D so, here everything we used in Champignac

Set Exhibition & Museum Shop

Book - laying | Livre - couché Panel | Panneau Information panel | Panneau d'informations Label - standing | Informations Posters - rolls | Posters - rouleaux

Set Eco Café

High Stool | Tabouret de bar Tree Guard | Protection pour arbre Bar | Bar Counter | Comptoir Counter Island | Ilôt

Set Grocery - Fresh product displays - add-ons

Market display | Présentoir de marché Asian fruits | Fruits d'Asie Market display | Présentoir de marché Asian vegetables | Légumes d'Asie Market display | Présentoir de marché Autumn crops | Récolte d'automne Market display | Présentoir de marché Empty | Vide

Set Bakery Shop Part 2

Baguettes Display | Baguettes Baguette | Baguette Bread | Pain Shelf | Etagère

Set Bistrot Part 2

Price List | Tarifs des consommations Wall Menu | Menu Shelf | Etagère

Set City Urban Objects

Community Trash Can | Poubelle Communautaire Mail box (decorative) | Boîte aux lettres Phone Cabin (mirror) | Cabine téléphonique

Set City Newspapers Kiosque

Magazine Wall Rack | Stand de magazines mural Magazine Rack | Stand de magazines Newspaper Stand | Stand de journaux Newspapers Stand | Stand de journaux Stack of Newspapers | Pile de journaux Magazine - Arts | Magazine - Arts Magazine - House | Magazine - Maison

Set Beach Activity Add-ons

Beach cabin | Cabine de plage (Decorative | Décor) Beach cabin | Cabine de plage (Toilets | Toilettes)

Set Uglify your Town

Concrete bench | Banc en béton Park bench | Banc de parc

Set Canal Locks

Canal / Street Light | Lampadaire Canal / Box of books | Coffre de livres Canal / Box of artwork | Coffre d'art Canal / Counter | Comptoir Canal / Stand Canal / Bollard Canal / Fence | Barrière Canal / Gate | Portillon

Set Church : ALL Items

Set The Dailies Café : Coffee Bar | Bar à café University Set Gardening Shop : Painted Crate | Cageot peint

Set Scuba diving & Surf Club : Surf board | Planche de surf

Set Electric Scooters : ALL Items

Set Misc Vehicles : Scooter with slot

Set Bakery 4to3 : Baking Pan - Bread | Moule - Pain/Cake + Bread | Pain

Sims 4 to 3 - City Living Landmarks #2 : Telephone pole | Poteau téléphonique x 2

Set Chocolate & Tea Shop : Chocolate Box | Boîte de chocolats ( ATS3-object-chocolatier-chocolatebox-heart-open )

In theory, all those items are .sims3pack files and should be encapsulated in the different lots. Anyway, we shall provide a folder with the .package files we used, just in case ;)

As said in the Road Map previous post, the tech-hippie website is already online and running fine. And the Sims 3 Lounge is mostly back too :) oh ! and Champignac will be uploaded later into the night or tomorrow maximum ...

Welcome in France :D