#ACOTAR next gen

[animezinglife]

"Cassian is a girl dad!" posts are so fun.

Just imagine being the poor bastard who one day tries to pick said girl up for a first date only for some guy called the Lord of Bloodshed answering the door in seemingly great spirits but clapping you so hard on the back your ancestors' bones rattle. A jovial, good-natured gesture...and a warning.

Meanwhile while your date's mother, Lady Death, glares at you silently and unmoving through the doorway.

[throneofsapphics]

More nyx x sunshine readerrrr

Maybe she gets attacked or something

I need drama

misplaced chivalry 

Nyx x f!Reader

Summary: visiting with your family goes horribly wrong

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, blood, minor injury, references to torture, a hint of angst & fluff, not proofread well

A/N: I did see your other ask, thank you for your request! I hope this hits the drama mark. same reader as ambushes and invitations, but they can be read separately !

Solstice with Nyx and his family was more than you could’ve imagined. Garlands, decorations, wine, food, music, and great company. 

Unfortunately, with the holiday over it meant it was time to do your annual obligatory trek back home. You managed to delay yourself two days before the guilt started creeping in. Estranged would be the best way to describe your relationship with your parents. They didn’t approve of your move to Velaris, or of your chosen profession. 

Trying to imagine the negativity flowing from your body, you took a few deep breaths before approaching the house. Outwardly, it was pleasant - normal. Red brick, a neat garden, a path leading right to the front door, a few chickens could be heard clucking from the coop behind the house. Absentmindedly, you wondered if your father ever got around to expanding that. 

Inside the house, it always felt strained - even before your relationship with them began to fall apart. There was still love, still good memories, and you put most of your conscious effort into focusing on that. It would be a good visit, and maybe things would begin to mend. Worst case you wouldn’t see them again. Your throat caught, despite the tension that’s the last thing you want. 

Three knocks on the wooden door, shaking out your knuckles, and you took a step back, rolling your shoulders and planting your feet like you were headed right into a conflict. 

Your mother answered the door, a worryingly pleasant smile on her face as she tugged you into her arms, squeezing tight. “You’ve grown so much,” she commented. 

Fighting back a wince or sharp retort, you beamed at her. “It’s good to see you.” 

She hummed, grabbing the crook of your elbow to lead you further inside. The scents of your childhood hit you at once, the vague smell of apple pie, old leather furniture, and something else you couldn’t quite place. 

“... made your favorite,” you hadn’t realized she was speaking and quickly added your thanks. Your father came in, shooting you a smile as well, and that was basically a warming welcome from him. 

Later, you realized just why they were being so pleasant. 

“Ella’s daughter completely cut them off,” your mother commented, shooting a nervous look your way. Right - they were scared you’d do the same. 

“That’s a shame,” you moved some food around on your plate. Not really, you figured she wouldn’t do it without a good reason. The night was pleasant - no judgemental comments about your profession or choice on where to live, no prying questions about your personal life or if you’d get married soon. When your mother nearly begged for you to spend the night, you decided it couldn’t hurt. 

-

Nyx knew you didn’t have the best relationship with your parents, and you’d declined his offer to come with you - outright - but he wanted to be there for you in some capacity. 

Your home village wasn’t terribly far from Velaris, and still in easy Daemati range, so he cast his mind out, searching and focusing on you, like his father taught him. 

“How’s it going?”

Around a minute later, “Surprisingly good, I’m going to spend the night.” 

He fought the disappointment that he wouldn’t see you later, and reminded himself to be happy for you. 

“Should I say good luck?” 

He could’ve sworn a soft laugh came through. “Maybe.” 

You filled him in on a few more details, and eventually he promised to check in the next morning, ignoring your gentle teasing, calling him a mother hen. 

-

It happened at breakfast before breakfast. The faint tang of copper filled your senses and you launched out of bed, reaching blindly for the knife Nyx had given you, well aware your knowledge extended to sticking the pointy end at them. 

First, your mothers body laid by the door, limbs sprawled at awkward angles, chest unmoving. The door was still open, the remains of a greeting still on her lips, the knife lodged in her throat. Scanning the room, it felt like time stopped, your entire world screeching to a halt. Three bodies laid on the floor, all dead. You heard one faint familiar heartbeat and scrambled down the stairs, feet sliding in the pools of blood. 

Wood splintered into your knees as you slid the last few feet to your father, the knife lodged in his chest. 

His eyes were half-glassed, knife lodged in his chest. You knew he’d killed the other three men. How had you not woken? Had he cast some kind of shield, now faded as life left him?

You gripped his hand tight, squeezing as his eyes focused. 

“Run,” his voice was hoarse, filled with pain. 

“I’ll get a healer,” the words were just above a whisper, told in vain - you both knew it was too late. 

“I’m proud to be your father,” one tear dripped down his cheek. The first tear you’d seen from him. 

“Stop,” you choked. 

“We both loved you very much,” the faintest squeeze, maybe just a twitch of his fingers. “Run.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” you snarled. Your magic had already cast a basic shield around the room. It wouldn’t hold under heavy assault, but you’d be damned if you let him … die alone. 

Maybe it was part of your nature, to accept the inevitable, to try and bring joy where you could, but you focused on him - repeating the happiest memories of your childhood until his chest stopped moving. Just then did you sob, as you closed his eyes. 

It was stupid to stay here, but you were in shock - you couldn’t leave.

-

It was normal for a short delay between responses, and he waited. A chime of the clock - five whole minutes, and nothing. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew you wouldn’t ignore him. 

“Are you alright?” He tried. 

“Help,” the word was so bleak, your voice desolate and burdened in a way he’d never heard from you, your mind completely open. Fear struck him as he saw through your eyes, fear that could either freeze him in place or bring enough anger to topple mountains. Blood - everywhere, five bodies - two that looked like your parents, three others - and your hands. You were knelt on the floor, one hand still in the pool of blood, the other holding your fathers hand. He could imagine your wide eyes, stuck open in horror. 

One of the bodies was still moving - chest still breathing, rising to his feet, the knife lodged in his thigh, pulled out and already healing - and you didn’t know.

“Run, y/n, run.” Nothing. He needed to get you out of there. Panic he hadn’t felt before hit him. “I’m coming, love.”

In that second, as he was still watching through your eyes, there was just enough time for the man to slice at your back, movements uncoordinated, a strike designed to incapacitate - not kill. You dodged in time for the blade to slice across your shoulder. 

The next second, a wave of dark, pure night slammed him against the opposite wall with a loud crack. Bound in ropes of magic, he left him alive for now. For answers, later. He slid his arms under your shoulder, and he winnowed directly to the river house - right outside his father’s study, where he knew at least a few of his inner circle were gathered. You were limp in his arms, chest heaving with silent sobs, hands clenching at him like a lifeline. 

“I’m here,” he murmured, one hand running over your hair. There was no indication you heard his words. 

One arm held you close to him as the other banged on the door, his mind showing a sequence of the last few minutes to everyone inside. He was beyond words, too fucking angry to try and explain. 

The door flew open. His father, eyes a dark stormy night, anger rolling from him in waves, his mother’s anger matching, but switching to worry as she spotted you. Azriel and Mor were there as well, and Nyx vaguely registered his father grabbing them and disappearing. 

His mother gently ushered them inside, Nyx lifting you into his arms - your body nearly frozen. As magic healed the small gash on your shoulder, as it made the blood disappear, he still held you close, still ran his fingers through your hair and said over and over again, “i’m here, i’m with you, you’re safe,” even as his mind wandered towards how soon he’d be able to get revenge on your behalf - revenge he knew you’d never seek out. Gods, you were more likely to try and show them mercy. Like hell that would happen on his watch. 

“He said he was proud of me. He said he loved me. He cried.” Nyx jolted as you whispered, the first words in the last two hours. You’d fallen asleep on him - but he hadn’t moved an inch, not as people came and went out of the office. Nobody suggested he try and move you, nobody dared to get too close to you, not with his temper and protective instincts barely under wraps. As far as he knew, your father had never said those words to you. Nyx didn’t know how to reply, so he placed a kiss on your forehead. It was stupid to be mad at a dead male, but he wished the male would’ve told you as often as you deserved.

Nyx only left you alone after you were secured in a room warded as heavily as possible, impenetrable except by him or his family. 

“We’ll need to talk to her, eventually,” his mother said carefully. His fists clenched at his sides, but he nodded. 

“Did you get anything from the male?” 

“Azriel’s working,” his father replied, eyes searching his face. 

“I want to see,” Nyx insisted. 

“You don’t need to see that,” his mother argued, but his father held his hand out, understanding flashing in his eyes. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, but she was still protective. 

Apparently, his mother knew when she was fighting a losing battle. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” she promised. Nyx sent a grateful nod her way, and took his fathers hand. 

By the looks of it, Nyx knew Azriel was conducting a special symphony of pain - one reserved for those who’d hurt people close to him. He watched, leaned back against the stone wall - arms crossed, as each word was pulled out of the male, resisting the urge to filter through his mind. 

He waited to comment until Azriel packed up for the night, until the cell door had closed, a barrier in place - one the male wouldn’t hear beyond. 

“What are you thinking?” the shadowsinger offered - not a demand or command, but letting him know he’d listen. 

“They weren’t trying to kill her,” he tucked his hands into his pockets, hiding anger-induced shakes. “They wanted to get to me.” 

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed. Hearing it from another was worse than his own mind. Would you hate him now, resent him? Being with him put you in danger, and he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. 

Azriel read his expression easily enough - he was the only one who could. “Pulling away from her won’t keep her safe, not that they already know.”

Nyx exhaled slowly, “it’s my fault.” 

“No,” the other male said sharply, insistently. “You’re not to blame.” 

The words were futile, he’d keep blaming himself. 

-

“I’m so sorry,” Nyx’s hand ran over your hair, your eyes blinking to adjust to the sun streaming through the windows. Why was he sorry? He was sitting next to you, you were laid in an unfamiliar bed, but you knew the hunch in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes. 

The events of the previous day hit you, slamming into your mind, filling you with an unfathomable grief. 

“There’s no reason to be,” your voice was hoarse and rough. “You saved my life.” An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a few minutes, and for once you didn’t have the energy to break it. 

“It’s my fault they came for you,” you could feel the guilt in the statement, and knew exactly what was coming next. He’d try to leave - to ‘keep you safe.’ Nyx was stubborn as a mule, but this was something you wouldn’t budge on. Sure enough, he said, “you’re safer without me.” 

Planting your palms on the mattress, you pushed yourself up to sit - the remnants of the sleeping tonic making the movements slower than usual. It was misplaced chivalry, some kind of attempt for him to be noble and assuage unnecessary guilt. Usually you were slow to anger, but this was enough to piss you off. 

“Do you not like me anymore?” You asked. He blinked, surprised. “Are you not attracted to me?” 

“Of course I am,” he stumbled over the words. 

“Is there a valid reason you don’t want to be with me?” 

“It’s not safe-”

“I don’t care,” you insisted. 

“I can’t put you in danger,” he insisted. 

You weighed the next words carefully, deciding what would get the best reaction. “Are you scared, Nyx?” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “If that’s the only reason you want to leave me, I won’t accept it.”The steadfast look in his eyes wavered, and you knew you had your in. “Tell me you don’t want me anymore.” 

He shook his head. 

“Say it,” you insisted. 

“Of course I still want you,” he muttered. Evidently, he’d realized he wouldn’t get his way. Good. 

Your body swayed as you reached for him, and he grasped both of your shoulders to steady you. There was the slightest twinge in your shoulder, thanks to the wound from yesterday, but besides that you were in good shape. 

He noticed your small wince, and tried to move away, but you reached for him, cupping both of his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. Eyes fluttering shut, he let out a slow, slow breath. 

“Until you have a good reason, you’re stuck with me,” you murmured. 

“It’s not stuck,” Nyx groused, and rearranged the two of you, laying you down, head resting on his chest. 

You hummed in content. The grief would come later, but for now you could lean into this moment, lean into his quiet strength.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Apparently we’re on a High Lady Mommy Feyre kick recently…

[climbthemountain2020]

Happy @cassianappreciationweek !

Day 1: Flying

I just know Cassian is gonna fly his little Valkyrie around the Night Court as often as he can. 🥹

[velidewrites]

“You made a death bargain,” he says, and it’s like an accusation.

His mother’s eyes—his eyes—well up with tears. “Yes.”

— POV you’re Nyx finding out about your parents’ bargain :’)

[yearning-for-autumn]

Psycho Coach - Cassian Headcanon

Summary - Cassian trains the kids, but forgets he can't yell at children like he does the Illyrian armies.

Warnings - None

A/N - This is based on my own headcanons for a next generation of the inner circle. It's just a little scenario I had to get out of my head, so, enjoy!

It was Milo who struggled most during basic training. The eldest of Azriel’s twin boys had always been more bookish than physical, a mystery to Azriel who had always naturally excelled in training. 

It was clear to Cassian that Milo tried 10 times harder than the others just to keep up, especially to his eldest daughter Zelda who could hold her own with the Valkyries already.

“Milo! I’ve told you 10 times to straighten that back leg. Run the drill again”

Cassian was used to yelling at the Illyrian warriors he trained every day and he didn’t hold back on his kids.

A hundred different scenarios raced around his mind, of Milo unprepared and injured, or killed in battle.

He watched as Milo ran the drill again, still weak in his back leg. He kicked upwards at Bryony, Cassian’s middle child, who easily blocked him and sent him toppling backwards. 

Cassian ran his hands over his face in frustration.

“I have told you enough times to straighten your leg, I should not have to repeat myself for you to apply my corrections!” He yelled, “What are you going to do when you’re in a real battle, huh? Rely on one of them?” He gestured to one of the kids who were all standing with grim faces. 

Every one of them had been on the receiving end of one of Cassian’s tyrades, but they all knew Milo wasn’t one to be able to sit and take it.

Milo’s face crumpled, and tears spilled down his cheeks before Cassian had even finished chewing him out. 

Cassian was on his knees before the kid as soon as he noticed his shaking shoulders, gathering him against his chest.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still frustrated, but even he knew when he had gone too far, and Milo was a soft kid. Cassian was horrified at making his nephew cry.

“Shh, shh don’t cry, I’m sorry, I was being psycho coach again, wasn’t I?” He asked, trying to turn Milo’s tears to laughter. Milo sniffed and nodded, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder like he was trying to kill him with guilt. 

Of course Azriel chose this moment to come and check on everyone’s progress. He looked at Nyx, the eldest, for an explanation. 

“Uncle Cass was being an arsehole to Milo.”

Cassian shot his eldest nephew a disparaging look.

Azriel scooped Milo up out of Cassian’s arms and held him, even though the kid was definitely too old to be carried around anymore, shooting Cassian a disapproving stare. Cassian held his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t mean to make him cry, I was just trying to correct his form.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but didn’t look too angry, even he knew that Milo could be a bit…sensitive sometimes. He busied himself instead with kissing Milo’s forehead, pampering him far too much in Cassian’s humble opinion, but then he was the one that threw his own children off the balcony to teach them how to fly. 

I have no idea how to end this little headcanon scenario so…yeah. I just really wanted to write out this scene that I have had in my head for aaages. I know not everyone will care about my own personal next gen headcanons, but I am personally very attached to them.

[lateatnewyork]

Misogyny

Young Adult!Nyx Archeron x Gwynriel!Daughter

Word Count: 1,264

Warnings: Misogyny (not nyx), swearing, suggestive, afab!reader, angst??

Summary: Azriel and Cassian get injured on a mission and have made the training of the two squads together. Nyx believes his boys can beat your girls. Your quick to put him in his place.

a/n: kinda inspired by prison for life by olivia rodrigo kinda not, nyx is an asshole but not in the kind of way where its toward women more like he thinks of them as equals and treats them as his boys.

"Dad? What do you mean I have to teach them with him?" I hiss. From the corner of my eye I can see Dad and Uncle Cass wince but my eyes are trained on Nyx. His usual smug smirk faltering by an inch. Twisting away from him my gaze zeroes in on Dad, who was holding an icepack to his head.

"She so got that glare from Gwyn," Uncle Cass mutters. My eyes flit from Dad for minute and switch to him "I. Am. Not. Teaching. My. Girls. With. His. Disgusting. Boys" I enunciate each word with a step toward Uncle Cassian, until I'm towering over him.

"Relax love, I'm sure the boys might be able to teach you girls something, other than getting used to losing," he comes up behind me until I can feel him breathing down on my neck. Spinning around I jab a finger into his rock hard chest. "One I'm not your love, two the only thing you'll be teaching us is how to make a guy land on his ass," I growl looking up at him. "Y/N-" I cut off my dad. "Don't start"

"Guys gather around," I say gesturing to the 10 or so girls waiting for the instruction to start sparring, "We have to train with the guys-" I got cut off by a simultaneous groan from all of them. "Don't worry guys, I completely understand you," I say sympathising with them.

"We're gonna do sparring one on one, boys vs girls." Just as the girls were about to nod. A group of rowdy boys enter the sparring center. Rolling my eyes, I head to Nyx, "Are you ready?".

"Ready to kick your asses?" A guy from the back says loudly. Ignoring him I gather them around, sighing when I see a clear line in between the two groups. "Are you always this bossy, even in bed?" Nyx says lowly. "Why you wanna find out?" I ask smirking, two can play this game.

"We're gonna be doing one on one sparring, boys vs girls," I explain. "Archeron and I will be demonstrating,".

"You really wanna show all of them you losing?" he questions out loud. "We'll see who loses in the ring, Nyx," I answer.

Heading into the ring, I stand on my side analysing his weaknesses and strengths. Me and Nyx weren't allowed to spar since the last time we did, we almost killed each other. "Powers or no?" he asks me. "No" I answer my eyes distant as I tried to guess what his first move would be. He was big and had muscle but slender enough to be able to sneak around.

Knowing him he was probably going to go straight for my legs. I let him reach for my legs, he pins me onto the mat and I groan at the feeling, gods we need softer sparring mats. Mum's gonna have to check that later. My hands are pinned at the top by one of his hands while the other, "Yield!" he yells to me. I lean up as if I'm about to kiss him and feel his arms falter, I use it to my advantage and flip him over so I'm on top. Punching his face, I grin when blood starts seeping out of his nose.

I stand up pretending to get off the mat as I knew you he was going to take the bait and try and grab me from the back. The second I feel his arms wrap around my neck I grab his arm and flip him over with such force that if not for the mat I would've broken his back.

"I told you before, one of my girls could take on all of your boys and I taught them so why would you think you could take me on?" I grin, offering him an arm to get up. He refuses it and stands up, "Men" I scoff. "Look I'll prove it, your best guy against my newest girl?" I say. "You're on" he whispers back and heads to his guys and yells out "Ben, you're up", "Violet," I say. And watch chaos ensue as his guys got taken down one by one.

"Admit it, they're better," I say walking towards Nyx and the boys, "Yeah but they'll be better in the kitchen," Me and Nyx's heads snap towards the guy who fought Violet. I stalk over to him, "The fuck did you just say?".

"You heard me, they would be better in the kitchen and taking care of children. I mean look at that one I would bend her over and f-" I cut him off by punching his nose so hard he goes staggering back.

"Don't ever talk about one of my girls like that ever again," I say my voice dropping dangerously low.

"These girls are your equals if not better," Nyx says coming up behind me, "Friendly competition is expected if not appreciated, but dropping so low as to talk about a woman as if she is an object is unexpectable, Ben I expect you to write a letter to Violet as an apology and you're no longer a part of this squad." he says nonchalantly.

After a while everyone filtered out, I smiled to Nyx who started changing out of his fighting leathers, and headed to my office. All of a sudden a sharp pain and a tug in my chest makes me gasp out loud. My head is telling me to stay put but my heart is guiding me outside the office and to the other side of the training room, an invisible string guiding me.

"Nyx did you feel that," I mumble out, "Yeah I did," he breathed out. I walked closer to him and kissed him, he stumbled against the wall behind him, I ran my hands up his bare chest and tugged on his hair as the kiss turned heated, he twisted us and picked me up. Wrapping my legs around his torso I gasped as he bit my lip, our tongues fighting for dominance.

"We told you they were mates," Gwyn says smirking at Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.

"Pay up losers," Nesta smiles in victory. Feyre, Gwyn and Nesta look at the two lovebirds with affectionate eyes as the men behind them grumble and start to take money out.

"Shit who's gonna be the spymaster now, when Nyx rules?" Rhysand questions. Cassian stares at him dumbfounded "What do you mean, wasn't it always going to be Y/N?".

"No you idiot, Y/N's going to be High Lady now" Azriel says with a roll of his eyes.

"Can't she be both?" I say as I come up behind them all, with Nyx his arm wrapped tight around my waist.

"How did you- you were the- wha-" Uncle Cass sputters. "She's the future spymaster and future High Lady, Uncle Cass," Nyx says as if that was enough explanation.

"Anyway we just wanted to say goodbye before Nyx eats his cookie," I say with a wide grin.

"Why goodbye for eating a cooki-" Uncle Cass gets cut off by Aunt Nes, "They're accepting the bond, you big idiot,".

"We're going to go to the cabin near the end of Velaris and once we come back we'll search for a new home," Nyx says never taking his eyes off me. Nyx picks me up bridal style and as we walk off we hear Uncle Cass yell out "Can I com-" only to be cut off by a loud chorus of "CASSIAN SHUT UP!".

I giggle against Nyx's chest.

[achaotichuman]

Anyway six-year-old Elucien's daughter coming home like "MOM DAD LOOK WHAT I FOUND" and it's a feral creature from the woods that snarls at them.

Said feral creature is Tamlin's six-year-old daughter, Dahlia.

[dawneternal]

A Duckling and a Beast

⚘ Just thinking about Tamlin being a dad and calling his baby 'Duckling'

⚘ Warnings: super fluffy, little bit of angst. Minimal editing.

⚘ Word Count: 655

⚘ Read on AO3

Worry and doubt and guilt had pulled Tamlin from his sleep, ravaging his nightmares and forcing him awake. He turned over in the bed, comforted by the outline of his sleeping mate, painted silver by the full moon. But there was still a restless piece of his spirit, adrift in a churning sea of memory and pain. So he slipped from the bed as quietly as he could to do the only thing that would truly quiet his mind.

He found his baby already awake, staring up at him adoringly with those grey-green eyes. Tamlin could not help his smile as he scooped her up, so tiny in his hands, and held her to his chest. She snuggled in immediately, chubby, pink cheeks against his bare chest. He ran a hand over her soft, golden curls that reminded him so much of a downy duckling. Everything in his mind quieted.

As they swayed in the moonlight, he could feel the infinite potential radiating from her, soothing every fear. The absolute assurance that she would become someone extraordinary dissolved all of his feelings of inadequacy. He would do anything to see it happen. If his mind stumbled, his body would know the path, tethered to this little soul in a way that he could not explain.

After all, if the mating bond was a bridge between his soul and Briar's, how might he be connected to this tiny being that was half him and half her?

His salvation. Those little hands that he was so sure would grow and accomplish such amazing things. She would do everything he never could, have everything he had always wanted, and he knew it because he was determined to make her happiness his purpose. He was no longer a failure. Because she was his gift to the world, and she had righted all his wrongs just by taking her first breath. With only her beautiful existence, she had fixed it all.

Amazing, how it all settled. How the world quieted and the beast in the den of his mind ceased roaring. It had been such a long time since there was such peace. Love had chased away the chaos. Briar had forged the path, had crafted the gates to this beautiful land of calm and bliss. He would make sure they wanted for nothing, his little family. He would fight anything, death itself, to ensure their contentment. He would conquer hell and claw his way out of the earth if he needed to.

The little duckling drifted back to sleep in his arms and his gaze turned toward the window. He thought of showing her every marvel of the court she'd inherit. Golden sunshine on her face, a warm breeze chasing them through the forest. He'd hold her hands under a bubbling brook and let her walk barefoot through velvety soft moss. When she grew older, he'd walk her to every corner of the court, along each border until she had them memorized. The future had not held such promise in so long.

The duckling began to fidget and fuss, to Tamlin set his sleeping darling down into her bassinet. Softly, he picked up his fiddle and began to play. He made the notes gentle and smooth and easy for her ears. Humming the words to the ancient song, he watched the wrinkles between her tiny brows melt away. Her small whimpers and cries turned into steady breaths as she slept, lured into a place of lovely dreams. Such trust she had in him already. He tucked it away into his heart, a thing to be cherished, a thing to fortify him should he ever falter. Her guardian. Her protector. The oath was written on his bones, older than the lullaby he coaxed from his instrument. Like all of the love in his chest was a thread in the tapestry of time, something truly immortal. His gift to the world.

[ennawrite]

i love having a bad memory cause i’m rereading my fic just to make sure things flow correctly and I’m just like wow…I kinda ate this shit up 😭

⭐️for those interested, you can read the fic here ⭐️

(it’s a Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter story, with themes of disrupt in the NC. I plan on exploring it more in future chapters)

[animezinglife]

Lucien: [minding his own business, making little foxes out of fire to make Nyx smile and laugh] Feyre: Feyre: Rhys, I want another. Rhys [realizing what/who inspired this]: what the fuck

[throneofsapphics]

murder in her eyes

Nyx x f!Reader

Summary: Determined to claw your way out of your home camp, you decide it’s time to learn to wield the Illyrian bow, and your best friend won't let you learn alone. 

Word Count: 6501

Warnings: canon typical themes, sexism, violence, injury 

A/N: this is pretty much all inspired by one line from acofs that I think about too much.

“I’m jealous of you sometimes,” she admitted to Nyx. They were gathered on the outskirts of the village where he’d been sent to train. She kicked her feet out in front of her. The bark of the log she sat on cut through her thin summer pants, pressing into her skin. Instead of being painful or itching, it felt comforting and reminded her she’s still alive. 

“Why?” He cut a glance to her from where he was sharpening one of his knives. 

“You get to leave.” The absolute truth. She was stuck in this damn village likely for the rest of her life, unless she somehow managed to escape or marry into another. “And I’m just -,” you waved a hand, hoping that would get the rest of your point across. It did. 

“You’re allowed to leave at any time.” He recited, but she could tell he didn’t really believe it. There’s no official laws forbidding her from leaving. In fact, there’s one against it - written on paper by his father, but actually writing a law and enacting it are two very different things. At least she can’t be officially punished for trying to leave.  

“You know it’s not that easy.” Her last attempt hadn’t worked. Despite her friendship with Nyx, probably in spite of it, they dragged her ass back here. No matter how fast she flew, they were faster. They caught her, dragged her back and told her if she tried again they’d break her wings and make it look like an accident. One day, when she was fast and strong enough she’d get the hell out of here. But until then …

“I thought you liked it here.” Gods, she loved it. Illyria was beautiful despite its cruelty and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but it became suffocating and all consuming especially as she grew older. Besides, it was all that she’d known, there was nowhere for her to compare it to. Unfortunately, with each year, the expectations to marry became stronger. Even though they let her train, they ridiculed her at every turn. Her father said it would make it almost impossible to marry her off, and frequently encouraged her to quit. Little did he know, saying it would make her undesirable for marriage was prime fuel for her to keep going. She refused to quit and accept her natural place, to let her ‘natural place’ be below, subservient, predestined. She’d seen and even spoken to Emerie, she knew who she could become if she truly pushed herself. Long ago she’d decided she’d work and work until she was never weak again. 

“I’m thinking about taking up the bow.” She switched topics quickly. If she tells him, and they find out … she knows they’ll make good on their promise. 

-

Rhys overheard a single sentence of conversation between his son and his friend. He’d been curious about the friendship at first, and maybe a bit wary but she hadn’t done anything outrageous, in fact she’s one of the few females who continued to train despite all of the leers and ridicule she faced. 

“I’m thinking about taking up the bow.” 

Many males couldn’t muster up the strength to take up the bow. Still, the line triggered something in his memory, something he told himself over a decade ago, during a visit to Windhaven. ‘If one of the girls decided to take up the Illyrian bow, I’d oversee her lessons myself,’ and stepped out of the shadows as if compelled. 

“I’ll oversee your lessons myself,” he pressed his back against a branch and tucked his hands into his pockets. The female jumped, her eyes wide. Nyx glared at him, pissed off that he was eavesdropping, or probably more upset with himself that he didn’t catch him. He didn’t particularly care too much, and his mouth quirked up at the corners. “Nyx can accompany you for lessons once a week, in Velaris.” 

The words came naturally, and he wondered if this was a plan written out by the mother decades or centuries before the two in front of them were born. Perhaps, and as much as his son’s potential love life intrigued him he had more urgent court business to attend to. Anyway, Nyx definitely wouldn’t appreciate his hovering or interfering, so he did his best to take a step back. His best wasn’t great, but it was something. 

“T-thank you, High Lord” she stumbled out and he frowned at the honorific, holding up a hand. 

“Just Rhys,” he gently corrected. She didn’t look completely convinced, but Nyx elbowed her, his eyes glazing over, saying something directly to her. He didn’t pry. Besides, his son had taught her how to keep iron shields locked up around her mind. It’s possible there was something else going on there. Not that Nyx would tell him … maybe he could convince Cassian to get it out of him, he’d always been more willing to speak to him about those kinds of things. He’d said he was ‘not great,’ after all. Rhys shoved the thought to the back of his mind for now, making a mental note to address it later. “Are you going to learn with her?” He asked Nyx. A taunt and a challenge. He’d wondered why it took Nyx so long to ‘agree’ - like he hadn’t just volunteered him - to learn the bow, but perhaps it was a who. 

“Of course.” Nyx glared at him. He could’ve sworn a blush covered his cheeks when he glanced back at her. He’d definitely be asking Cassian. 

-

She bit on her bottom lip, watching Nyx glare at his father. Learning the bow and a chance to leave Windhaven once a week sounded like heaven. Maybe it’s good fortune his father happened to overhear the conversation, even if it’s embarrassing. 

‘Not embarrassing’ she chided herself. There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting to train, wanting to learn to fight. Besides, if she learns to wield the bow - something several Illyrian males never learn to do, maybe that would finally prove her skill and worthiness.

Eyes a bit dreamy, she hid in the shadows, letting the cool embrace her as she watched a male return the Illyrian bow to its hold. Silver, well made, and nearly as tall as her. Heavy, too, based on what she remembered from the time she tried to steal one. That was a mistake. All she’d achieved was getting it stuck in the mud. To cover her scent, she’d spread more mud over it, and just caused rampant confusion in the morning. The males actually training with the bows had hell to pay for her mistake, but they’d always jeered at her for wanting to train so she didn’t find she cared too much. 

-

“Why haven’t you invited her to train with the Valkyries?” Nesta asked Nyx later that week, after his Father  - embarrassingly - announced he’d been learning to wield the bow, with a ‘female friend’ of his, causing a few intrigued looks. 

“It’s not like that,” he’d insisted, aware you'd have his head if you found out he gave any other kind of impression. Still, relaxed as he was around his family he maintained the perfect control taught to him from a young age. 

His uncle Cassian’s eyes lit up in mischief, but he caught Amren, who hated being called Aunt for some reason, sending a glare his way - backed up by Mor. At least the females were on his side. 

“I never thought of it.” His mother raised one eyebrow at him, calling out his bullshit, but didn’t comment. He’d thought of it, but he’s not certain she would want to train away from the village. That part was also bullshit, she’d do anything to get away from there, but if she was training with the Valkyries he’d never see her. Never see his closest friend. Just a friend. Cassian had grilled him about her, fishing for answers - if he liked her in that way. Even though he did, he wouldn’t act on it. She had enough males panting after her and didn’t want her to feel pressured in any way. If her family caught wind of his or her interest they’d either push her to pursue it to the ends of the world or do their best to drive her away from him. The last thing she needed was more pressure on her. 

Their conversation from the other day still lingered in his mind. ‘You know it’s not that easy.’ Had she tried to leave? If so, why wouldn’t she tell him about it? She knows he would help her. 

-

The string dug painfully into her cheek as she pulled it back, her wrist quivering slightly. She shouldn’t be glad Nyx was struggling next to her, but it reassured her. 

“Good.” She heard his father behind them, and they both lowered it. The lesson consisted of how to hold it, and practicing pulling the string back, time and time again. They’d done it for hours, but she wouldn’t complain. Not one word of complaint would leave her lips. She caught a glimpse of Velaris as they landed on a balcony. Nyx had called it the House of Wind. One level below, at a different training courtyard, females were practicing with swords, sparring with each other. Priestesses, most of them, with the blue robes but some others wearing Illyrian leathers. The Valkyries. She caught a glimpse of Emerie. She wondered if the female knew how idolized she was by a select few females. 

She’d heard of them in passing, mostly with sneers and snarky remarks but she thought it was admirable. A female from her village, Emerie, had helped found them, and was one of the original three Valkyries, a year or two before she was born. She wondered if she had to be a priestess to become a Valkyrie. Holy vows might be a bit beyond her. She refocused on the lesson, thankfully and sadly at an end. Nyx winnowed her back to Windhaven but had to leave quickly for some high-lord-in-training duties, and promised he’d be back the next day. 

Nyx had become the only reason she was staying sane over the last few years, and she thanked the Mother every day for that friendship, and that he’d never pushed or shown any interest beyond that. Of course, there was a tiny bit of attraction on her side but she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Not a damn thing, and made sure her friends and family knew it was completely platonic. 

-

They were sitting in their usual spot, tucked out of sight from the village but not too far into the mountains, when he asked her a question she’d been dreading. “Have you tried to leave before?” 

She couldn’t lie to him, he always knew when. “Once,” she admitted and pointedly ignored the gaze branding into her side. 

“And you came back?” 

Not willingly, but she did. “Obviously,” her heart beat faster, her palms sweating slightly, and she prayed he wouldn’t ask if she did willingly. She didn’t want to lie to him, and didn’t want to answer. 

“Look at me.” His voice was deceptively soft and mild, but she looked at him and saw anger dancing in his eyes. He’d read right through her. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, fixing her gaze firmly on the sunset lowering over the mountains, the sun perfectly aligned between two peaks. 

“It does.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach out towards her, but seemed to think better of it and withdrew his hand. She wished he wouldn’t have and cursed herself for wishing that. “I’ll find out.” He added when she didn’t reply. 

That caught her attention, and she snapped her head to him. “Don’t go digging into it.” Her voice was desperate, her nails digging into her thighs. “Please.” 

Nyx swallowed harshly, and frowned at her. “If someone hurt you, I want to know.” 

“It’ll make things worse.” 

His mouth parted slightly, ready to protest, but closed again. The way he looked at her made her feel like he had access to her innermost thoughts, could read right through her and see every little thing she was thinking. But - he wasn’t in her mind, he’d taught her to protect it and she would know if he was. The pause before his reply was only seconds, but it seemed to stretch on for eternity. 

“Alright.” A muscle in his jaw flecked. Her eyes darted to where his fists clenched. He wasn’t happy about it, but he could deal with it. She didn’t need a male savior anyway, she just needed her best friend. 

-

She hadn’t denied that someone hurt her, and he promised he wouldn’t go digging into it. But - he didn’t say anything about others. There’s several people he could ask to look into what happened after she tried to leave, but that felt like a betrayal of her trust. Still, a protective instinct in him flared, wanting to eliminate any threat to his … his friend. Nyx felt lost. He’d always known what to do next, where to find a solution, or how to help but she said it would ‘make things worse.’ If he told his parents, Cassian, or Azriel they’d probably go combing through the village to figure out what happened and she would suffer the consequences from that, whatever they might be. There’s one person he could ask … someone who had been in a similar situation. 

“Can you keep it from my parents and everyone else?” He asked cautiously. Mor raised a brow, but nodded. 

“Is it about your … friend?” Her red-stained lips curved into a smirk. Everyone knows about her, by now. The entire lot of them are complete busy bodies. 

“Yes.” He sighed, and her eyes lit up, “but not what you’re thinking.” 

She motioned for him to continue, and everything he knew about the situation - not much at all - spilled out. He saw anger flare in her eyes once, but for the most part she remained calm, listening carefully to each word. “What do I do?” He finally asked. 

Mor paused for a few moments, tilting her head. “Follow her wishes.” Gods that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. Apparently she could tell because she snorted. “Offer to help her, when she’s ready. Make sure she knows you will.” 

He could do that, he could wait until she’s ready to leave. The Mother only knew he’d wait a ridiculous amount of time for her, do ridiculous things to ensure her safety and happiness, just like she’d do the same for him. 

-

The lessons, in Velaris, started becoming her favorite part of each week. Every Friday, around dawn, she’d wait anxiously at the edge of camp for Nyx to come. Velaris was too far to fly in a day, reasonably, so she had to rely on him to make it on time. The one and only time he’d been late, they both paid the price for it and as soon as they got back to Windhaven, she berated him and told him if he did it again she’d cut his favorite part off. That seemed to get through to him because he was never late again. 

In the spare time she could find, she would practice. They couldn’t refuse her using one of the many bows set aside for training, not since they were trying to stay on the High Lord’s good side. In all honesty, both her and Nyx were absolutely terrible in the beginning, but slowly improved over the weeks. Painfully slowly. His father had reassured them it took years for him to master it. A few times, other members of the inner circle had appeared and mostly grilled her with questions as Nyx glowered at them. How her training is going in Illyria, her family, what she thinks of Windhaven, her favorite food, they were endless. She answered all of them very carefully, dodging around anything negative that could get back to them.  

She desperately wanted to see the rest of Velaris, and when she thought nobody was looking she’d take the time to peer out over the city. A river cut through it, and the entire place seemed vibrant with life - even though she couldn’t see any details very well. She never went beyond the House of Wind. Maybe when she finally left she could come live in Velaris. There had been brief whispers of the city, but several still believed it to be a myth. Residency there was by application or invitation only, and she didn’t know of a single Illyrian living permanently in the city. Perhaps she could be the first. 

She heard footsteps approaching her - heavy for Fae, and recognized the scent. Her father. Her entire body tensed as he appeared, stopping a few feet in front of her and looking at her with distaste. She’s used to that by now, the looks didn’t bother her, but the fact that he’s here now does. She hadn’t told him exactly where she goes, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. Still, he probably heard through rumors what she’s been doing. 

“What do you want,” She bit back a sigh, trying not to sound too disrespectful, adding “sir?” to the end for good measure. 

“You need to stop.” 

“Stop what?” Her voice grew sharper, attention now caught. 

“Going wherever you do, practicing with a bow.” 

She forced her breathing to stay steady, and tamped down some of the rage. “You can’t make me.” She didn’t bother asking why, the answer would be as useless as it was obvious. Female. 

“Accidents happen.” 

“Accidents are noticed.” She said through gritted teeth. 

“You can’t practice with a broken wing.” 

Her eyes shuddered closed. He would really do it, and she knew that. What could she do to stop him if he actually put his mind to it? Running away hadn’t worked, but this is one thing she finally had for herself, and was very reluctant to give it up. 

“It’s not my fault you were never good enough to master the Illyrian bow,” that was not what she intended to leave her mouth, especially not at full attitude. Not at all. Fuck.

His nostrils flared, eyes widened, and a crack as the back of his hand slammed across her face, her lip catching on her canine, tearing. She showed no reaction. She knew better. More blows rained, her wing twisted, she bit her lip to hide a scream. 

Maybe she was already stronger than him, but she wouldn’t know that strength as the child inside of her rose to the front, the old habits of learning to be small, to make herself palatable, to minimize the damage, reared.

By the time she broke free of the child-like mold paralyzing her, it was too late to fight back, she’d already been tossed out into the snow, door slamming behind her. 

It was Friday. She would be late. He chose his dates well. Her body was in horrible shape, she knew that, but the fear of disappointing her instructors kept her going. One foot in front of the other, wings lopsided with her left one barely hovering above the ground, body swaying back and forth with each step, vision blurring in and out of focus. 

Specks of blood sprinkled her footsteps, leaking down to decorate her clothing as well. Maybe they’d be late too, and she’d have time to make herself palatable. 

“She’s never late -” She heard Nyx - he was speaking loudly. 

“Oh you’ll have fun today,” Mor was picking them up this time. 

She knew when Nyx sensed her presence, felt the shift in the world as she passed between the two trees into the clearing, her companions a few hundred feet away. 

The sight of Nyx, of her best friend, made her feel like she could be whole again. 

“Sssorry,” the word slurred over her puffy lip, “I’m late.” 

They winnowed to her side and caught her just before she collapsed. 

-

“See what they did to her,” Nyx screamed to the room, Cassian’s arms still wrapped around his chest. 

His father’s rough hands brushed against his cheeks. 

“I see,” his voice was deadly and calm. Nyx didn’t care for calm right now. Not with her in the next room, looking so broken. He was ready to fly into a rage beyond anything reason could fathom. 

Catching the curt nod from his father, the panicked look in his eyes, Cassian’s arms released him and his father barely stepped in in time to grab him before he winnowed himself. 

A distant mountain range. Far from where he could hurt a soul. 

That was the problem, he needed to cause pain. Someone needed to pay. 

“If you kill them now, what will it solve?” His father asked. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. 

“Who’s revenge is it?” His fathers voice had dropped, but the intensity grew. “Would you take that from her?” Nobody knew her like Nyx did. Death, pain in equal or greater suffering, not just for herself but to save the next female. “For each male like that to die, another takes his place.” 

Why was he still. Fucking. Speaking. 

“And you haven’t managed to solve that,” Nyx said flatly, knowing the words would hit - would find their mark. He sensed the wince. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilt now, that was for later. “What would you do if it was my mother lying in the other room?” Was he giving away too much? He’d kept the secret for so long it didn’t matter to him now. It seemed stupid, in hindsight, waiting for you to realize. “What would you do if it was your mate bleeding and broken?” 

“Hope someone would keep me from doing something she’d be pissed at,” he responded, a touch of shock to his voice. For some reason, that pissed Nyx off more than before. 

“Yes, I have a mate,” he enunciated each word so clearly it felt like he was spitting them. “And this place,” he waved a hand at the mountain ranges beyond in the vague direction of her home, “is killing her, day by day and i’m fucking helpless.” His knees hit the icy earth, pushing through the snow. The ground rumbled beneath him. “I can’t help my mate,” he whispered. A mountain top cracked somewhere in the distance. Birds flew. Wind howled. 

He repeated the words, screamed them with none but his father and the blossoming warmth in his chest as a witness. 

-

“By the mother, wake up,” Nyx half pleaded, half ordered. 

“I’m awake,” she countered. Again. How many different versions of this one conversation did they need to have? 

“I want my best friend back.” Yes, you’d been a little moody but its not like you disappeared to the ether lands. You were just … contemplative. There was a lot to think about. 

“She’s right fucking here,” she tried to add a bit of a sing-song lilt to her voice, but instead it cracked. Like a young male’s would. 

Pursing her lips together, she finally glanced at him, the laugh threatening to burst out of her chest. 

The amusement and tip of an insult in his eyes brought it out. 

Several minutes later, and slow breaths later, she’d calmed and her ribs slowed from a sharp pain to a dull ache. She didn’t dare express any kind of pain or discomfort to her mother hen, gods only know he’s enough of one now. 

“I should go back soon,” she said, without a whole lot of intention. 

“You’re not going back,” Nyx hissed. Oh. He caught her attention, and not in a good way. The sheepish expression on his face meant he knew it too. “Sorry,” he murmured, “instincts.” 

Instincts? Nyx had never used that excuse with her before. Well, perhaps it was a reason rather than an excuse. If he was in this bed … she didn’t want to think of the rage and damage she’d induce on his behalf. Of how much destruction she’d leave in the wake of her pain. If anyone dared hurt Nyx. Well, there were others that might get to the culprits first but she wasn’t too proud to beg for scraps. 

A gentle poke to her shoulder drew her from her swirling thoughts. “Hm?” 

“Where’d you go?” Nyx played with a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks heated but he had the good grace to ignore that. There’s a lot they’d been ignoring recently.

Still, his question. There was no point in lying to Nyx, he’d always find out. “I was thinking of what I would do if I was in your place.” 

A too long pause before he replied, “and what would that be?” 

“I’d want to kill half of the world from spite,” she said with a grin, but meant each word. 

“Are you disappointed I didn’t?” He sounded oddly insecure. 

She snorted, “absolutely not. You know I can … can handle myself.” 

That last part felt like a lie. 

“I know you can,” he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, the movement so gentle yet connected. “I’m here to talk about it when you’re ready.” 

Not a command, not an order, just a pure statement of fact. She wished, in that moment and many others, that there was a chance of something for Nyx and her. It would make so much fucking sense, but it never quite worked out, and he’d shown zero sign wishing to pursue of feelings for her beyond friendly, even if they might exist.

It was enough to be his best friend, and she’d stick by that for the rest of her days if she had to. 

“You keep drifting off,” she heard the frown in his voice. 

“I am recovering,” she drawled. 

“And you keep trying to get out of bed.”

“Only because I shall go insane if I'm in this room much longer.” 

‘It’s been three days.” 

She missed the easy banter between the two of them. It meant everything to her to regain this small bit of normalcy. Nyx’s friendship meant everything to her, she refused to compromise it. It would take the cauldron itself, the Mother herself, and more to get her to so much as risk that. 

“I don’t understand how you’re so calm about this,” Nyx murmured, dragging his chair closer to her, winding their fingers together. He’d never done that before. Best friends, yes, but he’d never breached the barrier of physical intimacy, even platonic - the two of them always scared what it might be interpreted as. That could go unsaid. But now … she wasn’t in Illyria and perhaps he needed the reminder that she was warm and alive and breathing and here. 

“I’m not,” she squeezed his hand. “But I could give the females in theaters a run for their money,” a weak smile accompanied the statement. 

“Sure,” he laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead, his lips lingering for a second. Her entire body tensed. His eyes bugged, he released her hand just as the door swung open. 

Madja, right in perfect or horrible timing. 

-

“You’ve never been to the theater,” Nyx said blandly, remembering her earlier comment.

She looked down at her hands, small scars general from life in Illyria flickering them. “I’ve read about them,” her voice was quiet, and he felt like an asshole. 

Read about them.  Nyx had taught her how to read, so many years ago, because she hadn’t read his favorite book and he desperately wanted to be her friend but in his mind it was impossible for the two of them to be friends if she hadn’t read it, hence reading lessons. She’d threatened him enough to earn a prison sentence during it, but obviously both the teaching and friendship worked. Beautifully, in his opinion. 

“I’ll take you,” he said a tad late, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

“In Velaris?” Her eyes lit up, shoulders pushed back but chest forward, leaning towards him. 

“In Velaris,” he promised, and got the sense that … It was crucial, somehow, that he showed her his city. He hadn’t gotten the chance yet, after all. 

She looked ready to jump up and cheer, so much so that he stepped closer, ready to help support her if needed. 

“I’ve always wanted -” her mouth snapped shut. He looked back at the door. Nobody. 

“Always wanted what?” Nyx pushed. 

A few moments pause. “To see the city,” she finally said quietly. 

He felt like an ass for not taking her to see it sooner. 

“Then you better rest up,” he winked at her. “I’ll be your guide.” 

With that, he had to leave. It was the most beautiful misery to be around you without you aware of the bond. For all of his bravado on the mountain, he still hadn’t the courage to tell you. One of these days, he’d find it. Nyx just hoped it wasn’t too late when he did. 

-

She frowned at his back. Leaving after a promise like that. Well, she supposed to him it might not be quite as world changing and ground shaking, but to her it seemed like everything in that moment, and maybe even something that ought to be celebrated. Or, the injuries still rattled her brain and she wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Nyx was good for his promises. That was a fact. He’d never broken a single one to her, and she’d never broken a single one to him. Hopefully, it stayed that way. 

Three thuds on the door, citrus and cinnamon flickering through the door - a scent she vaguely recognized. 

“May I come in?” A muffled voice sounded. It was a ridiculously thick oak wood door from what she could tell. She called her agreement, and the Morrigan - Mor - she mentally corrected herself, strode through the door, beaming. 

She was gorgeous, warm brown eyes and blonde hair, ruby red lips, and an effortless grace and confidence she wished she could channel sometimes. 

‘A free female,’ she thought. ‘That’s what a free female looks like.’ 

“How are you doing?” Mor asked, and she could hear the sincerity in her tone.

“The injuries aren’t healing as quickly as I’d like,” she admitted. “And I’m sick of this bed.” 

“I’m afraid if Madja orders bedrest, you’re quite stuck,” Mor shot her a sympathetic grin, like she’d been in that place before. Probably had. “As glad as I am to hear you’re healing, we have more unpleasant things to talk about,” her voice dropped just a tad, a sternness entering that made her back subconsciously straighten, “like what’s going to happen next.” 

She’d mentally prepped herself for this. The return to Illyria. She nodded, more to herself. 

A warm hand covered her own, squeezing lightly. 

“We won’t make you return there, not if you don’t want to.” 

Her heart dropped to her stomach, mouth parting, eyes widened, heart racing. 

The corner of Mor’s lips curled into a tentative smile, “we haven’t told Nyx about offering you a place here, although I suspect he would want to do it on his own. It’s important to - to me - that you get to make this choice of your own accord, with minimal influences.” 

In other words, she wanted her to have a true choice, for once. 

“I’m not ready to go back,” she admitted. “Does that make me -” 

“No,” Mor squeezed her hand again, refusing to let the words be spoken into the world. “If anything, it makes you brave to start over somewhere new.” 

At this very moment, she didn’t feel brave, but she supposed that could come with time. 

“We’ll make preparations to get you settled,” Mor started speaking and she did her best to pay attention, really did, but the healing tonic had a sedative effect and a yawn slipped. She laughed softly, “I’ll come back another time.” Mor stood, brushing down her pants. “For what it's worth,” she started slowly, as if uncertain. “I’m glad you’ve agreed to stay for now.”

“So am I,” she grinned. It took until she was drifting off to sleep for her to realize it had been implied she was staying in Velaris, that they’d assumed she would want to make this city her home. Maybe to another it would’ve been an insult, but it warmed her heart that they wanted her here. She felt quite special. 

-

Time passed, and she healed, in more ways than one. 

With some encouragement from Lady - no, just Nesta, she saw one of the priestesses from the library. That, she believed, really made the difference to her. Someone to listen without judgment, trying to fix things, or push themselves into her situation. She loved Nyx, as a friend of course, truly did, but he always tried to fix things for her and there were some things that were better left broken for a while. Not everything could be fixed, and she learned to accept her peace with that. She’d never have a relationship with her father, for one. Not that she was missing out on much. In her eyes, he’d grown irredeemable. Maybe that was the hardest lesson she’d learned. 

Lifting her pen from the paper, sticking it back into the ink pot, she blew lightly to dry the ink. Transcribing for the priestesses was slow, but she’d insisted she have some kind of work, and turns out she had a knack for deciphering nearly illegible handwriting. 

“How do you read that?” Nyx asked. She was thankful she’d already put the pen away, otherwise there might have been ink thrown all of her hard work. 

“I’m used to reading your notes,” she retorted. 

It was another book, you bit back your squeal of delight. You’d nearly begged him to bring another after you’d finished the first. It was slow progress, considering you were technically still learning how to read, but he’d chosen books that just worked. 

Each one had a series of notes, tucked in between pages at parts Nyx thought were particularly important, and thought it was highly important you hear his opinion on those parts. 

He snorted. “My handwriting is elegant.” 

“Glorified chicken scrawl.” 

He made a sound of mock offense, she bit down on her lip to hide a laugh, ducking her head. The sound of his laughter pealing through the air brought hers out. 

“Are you ready?” He asked when they’d both calmed somewhat. 

“I’m not finished.” It was a half-truth. She could be finished, but she didn’t want to be. 

“You’re working too much,” he complained. 

“I’m earning my keep.” 

“You’ve done enough for the day,” Nyx insisted, sliding the book further away from her. 

She sighed and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. He looked so earnest, and she hadn’t actually seen that much of him recently. Just his presence made something warm bloom in her chest, like always. Nyx had always been her warmth. A warmth he showed to a select few, but receiving it felt like the most precious gift and she found herself with an inexplicable chill of sorts without him nearby, like an itch she could never scratch. A subconscious smile crept onto her face, and she started packing her things. Only because it’s him, she told herself. She was lucky to have him as her best friend, she wouldn’t trade the friendship for anything. 

-

Three days later, the theater was back in season and she was aching to go. Mor - mother above it was still a little strange to call her that - took her once last season and she absolutely adored it. The costumes, the actresses and actors, the talent, the music, even the way they painted their faces for the crowds. Every bit of it made her heart feel full in a way she hadn’t realized was possible. 

But tonight, the first night of the season, when the stage should have her full attention she was stuck on the male next to her. Beautiful in his well fitting dark suit, stitched with gold and violet accents that brought out the varying shades in his eyes. 

Beautiful. She’d just called her best friend beautiful. Well, she supposed it was the truth. Nyx was one of the most beautiful, she was getting sick of that word, Fae she’d encountered. It didn’t mean she liked him or was attracted to him like that. Friendship. Friendship was good, safe, and she liked safe. Losing him would wreck her and she absolutely couldn’t afford to put her new life in jeopardy, even if her heart craved him, even if lying to herself was destroying her a little each day. 

“This is ridiculous,” Nyx sighed, leaning back in the seat. The two of them had managed to get a box to yourselves for the night. Well, Nyx managed it. His elbow brushed against hers. 

“I thought the play was done quite well,” she murmured. They were approaching the closing scenes now, she could tell at this point. 

“Not that,” he reached over and covered her hand with his own. 

“Wh-,” she started. 

“Watch the play,” he cut her off with a mischievous smile. Grinding her teeth together, she listened for once. 

Watching the play was bullshit. He knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on it, not with how right his skin felt on hers and how his thumb gently brushed back and forth across her knuckles. 

They both stayed until the theater cleared out, Nyx’s shield keeping the workers from coming into their box. 

“Did you ever get your revenge?” 

She knew what he was talking about. “Not the way you expect,” she flipped her palm so she could squeeze his hand. “Revenge doesn’t always have to be ice cold or bloody, sometimes it can mean living your best life and thriving without them.” Nyx paused, like this might be a foreign concept to him. It probably was. “But I’ll get the kind of revenge you’re thinking of when I'm ready. Although, I think hearing whispers of me living here, of my existence being possible outside of their bubble may hurt more.” 

Nyx frowned, “I don’t know about that one.”

She was suddenly aware of just how long they’d been holding hands, and moved to withdraw hers. He clutched on tighter, as if her touch was the only thing grounding her to this world. She stilled. Whatever was happening, it was the beginning of something else, and that terrified and excited her in ways her brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. In ways only he could. 

“Can I get a pass to do something potentially stupid?” Nyx asked. 

“Depends what it is,” she replied automatically. 

“I can’t tell you,” did he sound a touch pained or was she hallucinating? 

“Fine,” she said with mock annoyance, mainly because she was curious and maybe a little hopeful. 

But Nyx wouldn’t - 

A palm brushed against her cheek, and he did.

-

acotar taglist: @yeonalie

[itsphoenix0724]

can i please request feysands daughter reader who is in a relationship with eris’s son. They’re sneaking around and when eris and the inner circle are away for a meeting in the townhouse she sneaks her in and they makeout. They’re however caught by the whole inner circle + eris. and they literally throw eachother away and act like nothing happened but everyone knows👀😭 nyx knew already and nessians daughter knew too

Kiss Me In The Quiet. (Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Warnings: Making out, a little spicy

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Hi love! Thank you so much for your request! I actually had a lot of fun with this, and if anyone is interested I would definitely be willing to write more! I appreciate the visit to my inbox, please come again! As always, constructive criticism is welcome <3

“AURELIA,” You yell down the hall to your little sister's room, and you hear her treading footsteps pad to your door before it creaks open. “You have my emerald hair comb, and I need it back for tonight.” She averts her eyes quickly, her grip tightening on the door. 

“I gave it back to you after I borrowed it.” Her cheeks are turning bright red. Your poor little sister has never been able to lie because of her obvious tell. 

Your Uncle Azriel had politely ruled her out of spy work after that. 

You shoot her an incredulous look, and she cracks immediately. “Please just let me wear it for one more night! You don’t even like emeralds!” You roll your eyes and turn to face her from your vanity chair. 

“I do like emeralds. I need it back, Aurelia.” 

“But you never even wear it. You haven’t worn it in years!” 

“That’s completely irrelevant, it's mine, I need it back!” 

“But-” 

“No buts! Get your own if you like it so much!” 

“Sisters!” Your brother bursts into the room, still looking rumpled, even though you and your sister are almost completely ready to leave. “You both have more jewels than you know what to do with. Aurelia, if you want one so bad, I’m sure Mummy and Daddy dearest will get you one for solstice.” He rubs out the crease in his eyebrows, looking so much like your father at that moment that it scares you a bit. You and Aurelia whirl on your brother, now finding a common enemy. 

“Stay out of this Nyx!” You both yell in unison. Your elder brother holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step from the budding argument. 

“I’m not trying to intervene,” he promises, “But we’re leaving for the townhouse in twenty minutes with or without the both of you.” He sends one final look before exiting the room. Hopefully, to make himself look presentable.

“The comb, Aurelia.” You send your little sister one final look, and she stomps away in a huff, grumbling all the way, but returns the comb to your room. You pin the comb in place, holding back your hair from your face. The beautiful matching emerald green dress hugged your figure. Applying one final touch to your makeup, you were out the door and down the stairs to meet the rest of your family. Your Mother and Father looked like the pinnacle of night-kissed royalty. Your Father always looked at your Mother like she hand strung every star in the sky, it made your heart lurch in your chest and your thoughts cloud with one male. 

One male who you knew for a fact would be at this meeting tonight. 

Taking your father's arm, you appeared in the cozy living room of the townhouse. Your Aunt Nesta and Uncle Cassian, along with the twins Cassandra and Cordelia, had already arrived. Your other cousin Atlas is also perched on the arm of a loveseat, shadows whispering in his ears. Nyx immediately flocks to your cousins, Aurelia leaves to find your Aunt Elain to discuss a new baking technique, leaving you alone in the center. You spot the High Lord of Autumn in a Burgandy waistcoat. He shakes hands with your Father and presses a kiss to your Mother’s knuckles. His son stood dutifully beside him, copying the actions of his father. His eyes found you a moment later, and bolts of lightning shot through your body. 

Leander Vanserra affected you, and the asshole knew it too. 

His russet curls were brushed back tonight, and you missed the messy waves framing his face, preferably by your doing. You had to move on before the staring contest between the two of became obvious. You needed to escape the trap of his gaze, maybe get something to drink before the fire lit in the pit of your stomach consumed you whole. You just had to wait for the adults to leave for the meeting, and your cousins and siblings just had to get drunk enough to slip away into your corner of the library.

Disappearing into the kitchen you dip into one of your Father’s expensive bottles of whiskey, pouring yourself three fingers worth, and trying not to remind yourself that the color resembled a certain male’s eyes. A warmth appears at your back and steals the glass of bourbon right before it reaches your lips. Strong hands wrap around your waist, and you turn around to find the offender pressing your cup to his lips, downing the drink. 

“That was mine you know.” The hand rubs soothing circles into the curve of your waist. Despite your admonishment, Leander seems perfectly content to crowd your space and steal your drink. 

“You seem to have misplaced it, it couldn’t have found its way into my possession otherwise.” The feline grin that stretches across his face makes you want to kiss him stupid and chase the burning whiskey down his throat. He seems to agree with your sentiment because his amber eyes haven’t left your lips. “Meet me in the library at eleven-thirty. Our parents are returning at midnight.” His voice drops an octave, pouring into your veins like slow-melting sugar. 

“Only thirty minutes, I feel you may be overestimating yourself Vanserra.” He adds to your high with a dark chuckle, hand coming up to gently clasp your jaw. He tilts your head to the side, and the sight of your obedience lights sparks in his eyes. His thumb rubs over your bottom lip in a sensual promise. 

“Oh Fawn,” he tuts. Just the right amount of condescending to make you melt. He leans down so his lips are level with your ear, his lips brush against you with every word, and you stomp down every shiver threatening to surface. “We both know I can make you fall apart in five.” After that he pulls away completely, draining the rest of your whiskey, and sets the crystal glass face down on the counter. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks the remainder off his lips, he winks at you once before abandoning your heaving form in the kitchen. 

You really needed a glass of whiskey now, maybe the whole fucking bottle, if you were going to get through this night. It was only eleven. You still had half an hour of making nice to do. Walking back into the living room you found Leander sitting enthralled in conversation with your cousin Cordelia.

Two can play at his little game. If you leaned forward a bit, and if his eyes dipped to the neckline of your dress that was none of your business. 

“Where is Pandora tonight?” Cordelia asked with a slight red tinge to her tan cheeks, hulking wings ruffling behind her. You fail to hide your smugness at the way Leander doesn’t even seem to hear her question, too preoccupied with staring at you. Your cousin calls his name again and he glares at you before answering her. 

“Pandora elected to stay with my mother tonight. She was feeling a bit ill.” You don’t fail to miss the way Cordelia’s wings droop at his response, but you have no time to ponder it further as the large grandfather clock chimes once.

It’s eleven thirty. 

You announce to the group that you have to use the restroom and excuse yourself. Making your way to the library, wandering through the stacks you stop infront of a painting to lean against the small table underneath it. It’s quiet in here, with nothing but piles of books surrounding you and the blanket of moonlight streaming through the windows.  It takes five minutes for Leander to appear out of the shadows. 

“Leo,” you whisper. He’s on you in a second, pinning you in place with a searing kiss. His warm hands trace the curves of your body, lifting you in one solid motion onto the table. You get your earlier wish, hands rushing straight to his hair to get a hold of the curls you love so much. He heaves a breath before moving to kiss down your neck. 

“That was a dirty little trick you played in the living room Fawn.” He bites particularly hard at the crook of your shoulder. You thank the Cauldron for your inherited gift of glamouring because that’s sure to leave a mark. 

“Oh, my poor Lion,” he simpers at the nickname just like he always does, melting like candle wax in warm sunlight. You abuse the spot where his neck meets his ear and drawl in a voice like star-flecked silk, “Payback for what you did to me in the kitchen.” He lets out a laugh that dissolves into a moan. 

“It seems I have some apologizing to do,” His voice drops into that low timber again as he skims his hands along the underside of your breasts. 

“I was promised five minutes,” You smile as his hands start to bunch up the bottom of your dress growling at the sheer amount of layers blocking him from his destination. He’s just about to drop down to his knees and give you exactly what you’ve been waiting all evening for. 

And then the door opens. 

You two snap apart with impressive speed, even by fae standards. You pretend to read a book that had been abandoned on the table and Leander feigns looking at the titles on a nearby bookcase. 

“Alright,” Calls your mother's voice, “would the two of you like to explain something?” She raises one eyebrow at you, looking over at your clearly disheveled state. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You turn a page in the book you’re reading, the random words skimming past your eyes. 

“Sweetheart.” 

“Yes, Mother?” 

“Your book is upside down.” You sighed in defeat, closing the book and leaning your back against the wall. Your mother smiles, blue eyes alighting in victory “You owe me twenty gold marks, Rhys.” You shoot her an incredulous look as Eris appears and claps a hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“How did you find out?” Leander winces eyes darting between your parents. 

“It’s not as if the two of you make a conscious effort to hide it.” Your brother’s voice comes booming from the back, “You two practically eye fuck each other every time you’re in the same room.” Atlas smacks him upside the head as Cassandra’s laughter echoes through the library. 

“Can we please just talk about this later?” You feel your cheeks flame in embarrassment as you jump off the table. Your mother escorts you out arm and arm back into the main area of the townhouse.

“We certainly have a lot of talking to do about this later.” You know it will be a long discussion, even worse when your father starts on about inner court politics. Looking at Leander he seems to be getting a similar discussion if Eris’s muttering whispers are anything to go by, but he’s still sending you that sugar-sweet smile. 

You get the feeling in your gut that everything will turn out okay. Just as long as he keeps smiling at you like that.

[divinemare]

Nyx, on the phone: Remember how I said Blaze and I were going to have a calm night out for once?

Demetria (OC): Yes.

Nyx: Well, we’re in jail.

Demetria: *hangs up*

[velidewrites]

Nyx, High Lord of the Night Court 🦇

[azsazz]

To My Heart

Knox x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Oh my gosh Knox is so adorable he has my heart and the head canon that he writes letters to his mate makes my heart melt

Warnings: None

Word Count: 759

Notes: You guys he’s just so cute 😭

_________________________________________

Knox sighs, head propped on curled fists as he watches the night sky. He’s leaned across the deep stone of his balcony, and as much as seeing the smattering of stars and the bright moon hanging high above him calms the male, he’s buzzing with nerves.

He’s tired, beyond so but he can’t sleep, and won’t until she writes him back.

His mate. The word still makes his heart rush in his chest, and he curls his fingers around the pen he’d been playing with to expel his nervous energy. His book sits open and abandoned on the lounger behind him, sketchbook tossed to the side in frustration because he couldn’t get the curve of her lips just right. Loose papers ruffle in the wind from where they’re pinned under the weight of his supplies, a gentle flutter that reflects the pounding of his heart.

Gods, he must be crazy, he thinks, pushing himself away from the overhang. Knox paces the short distance, stretching his wings as if that might stave off some of the nervous energy zipping through his body. She could be asleep, and for a fleeting moment he thinks he might just run and jump off the balcony to find out for himself. He doesn’t want to scare her away when she hardly knows the truth.

But he’d felt her amusement ringing down the bond as he read his letter. Or he assumed she was reading his letter. She could be doing several things instead; baking those treats she seems to like or maybe she’s also reading, lost in the adventures of her novel, not noticing the letter delivered on a bed of darkness.

His hands have a tremor to them, and he stuffs them into his pockets instead, rolling his eyes when his twin’s voice rings through his mind.

What are you doing? Go to sleep.

I can’t, he sends back, trying not to sound defeated. He doesn’t have an excuse, can’t think of one because he truly is bone tired after the day he’s had, training with his father and uncles this morning until noon before he’d been dragged out with Baz for drinks by the Sidra. That, had turned into his older brother stark naked in the cold waters, flirting with a wraith whose red, hot cheeks could’ve boiled the river dry.

Well, all that thinking is bothering me, she responds, and Knox knows his sister is scowling. It makes his lips twitch into a smile, her banter helping to distract him. And some of us need our beauty sleep.

He snorts. I didn’t know my twin was replaced with Zuz. Tell me sister, no midnight rendezvous? He knows she’s been sneaking out just as much as he has lately, and even though his shadows are shared with his sister and he can talk into her mind, even he doesn’t know where she slinks off to in the late hours of the night.

Not tonight, Malos yawns lazily and he cringes because he hates when she does that in his mind. Now fuck off and go to bed.

Love you too, Mal, Knox says, rolling his eyes once more as he feels the strong, steel shield of her mind slides back into place.

And then Knox is pacing again. Maybe he should go for a fly, the open air always makes him feel better. But if she does write him back then he might miss it and that’s the last thing he wants.

His attention is drawn to a whisper of darkness drifting across the night sky like its own cloud of black. It shrouds the moon as it passes and his heart jumps once, twice. Knox all but snatches the neatly folded paper from the grasp of night. He takes a deep breath and can smell her on it. It makes him shiver, like she’s right there with him, the scent of stardust and sugar invading his senses.

The flourish of her writing makes his heart ache. How delicate the curves of her letters are, how light, so the ink doesn’t seep through the paper, the thought she’d gone through to make it look so perfect for him. He traces the letters of his name idly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he stares, heart calm in his chest as he fingers over the shape of the heart, hastily drawn and still wet, as if she drew it and sent it off before she could change her mind.

Knox takes a deep breath and opens the letter.