#nyx of night court

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

CW: Non-con kissing and touching

The Court of Nightmares, a place that housed the people the High Lord of the Night Court didn't want to keep. A place where no one from the other Court with a sound mind would enter. It was a dark and dreary place, not at all for the faint of heart.

Novali was born in the darkest times Hewn City had seen, their High Lord had left, leaving the worst of the worst to take charge. A century, it had been since their High Lord had visited, busy raising his heir in the Court of Dreams.

There hadn't been a whisper of the Lord since before Novali had been born nearly two decades ago, cruel males and females were in charge, and not plenty of nice people left to save the bad ones.

Novali sat in a club, cards face down in front of her, five others with her on the table, three males and two females. On her turn, she pushed some of the money to the centre, eyes raised at the next male, the only one who hadn't folded.

Her face was expressionless, watching the male, seeing right through his bluff. Gambling was easy marks, a pile of copper and silver collected, when the male finally admitted defeat Novali with a triumphant look pulled all the coins with her.

"Well, this has been fun, but she needs to leave," a male spoke behind her, and Novlai had trained herself well enough to not stiffen at the voice.

Her fiance, one of the most influential males in the Court, Sailas, stood behind her, even if most people feared him, even if the other people at the table straightened at the sight of him, Novali had trained herself to not fear him half a decade ago.

"Of course, Sir." The title was rough on her tongue as she stood up, Sailas reached forward to grab her won money.

Sailas counted the silver marks, keeping them and passing the copper ones to Novali, "Good girl," he purred, pocketing the marks, his hand on Novali's waist, he leaned down to kiss her, Novali held her breath, knowing better to not cringe at the alcohol on his lips.

"Come on," He moved and Novali followed behind him, her eyes dark in anger, whipping away at her lips, smoothing her simple black dress, short heels clicking with each step.

Novali's eyes scanned the room, Sailas was off talking to one of his friends, making her stand beside him, she noted everything in the bar. Her eyes went from the few faelings working, most of them were her age, and she knew each and every one of them, she hid a smile well watching them swipe things off the adults in the room without anyone else noticing.

"Girl, get us something strong to drink!" Sailas commanded her, and she turned to her fiance and his friends.

"Yes, Sir." She dipped her chin in respect and turned on her heel to the bar, ordering the drinks she knew by heart, and putting them on her fiance's tab.

Novali stood around as the bartender poured the drinks for her, "So, what would you like?" The bartender asked, his red hair not looking too bright in the tavern, but his amber eyes were shining with fire in them.

"Nothin', Aleks," Novali sighed, ears straining to hear her fiance talk.

"That's unbelievable." Sailas stressed. "They were never supposed to come back."

Kier, the male he was talking to spoke up, "No, the High Lord is coming soon, Morrigan just visited, arranging a meeting."

Novali's eyes were unfocused as she listened in, the High Lord was coming, from what she'd heard, Kier's daughter had visited, for the first time in a century.

Aleks caught the change in her expression, pouring the last drinks and pushing them in front of her. "What's wrong?"

Novali didn't let her findings show, knowing that people, especially her fiance, were watching, "Thank you for your service." Novali gave Aleks a nod, taking the drinks to her fiance and the Fae he was talking to.

The place was dark, it was hard to tell the time since it was always dark in the Court of Nightmares, Novali walked down the empty streets, humming to herself.

Her fiance had just kicked her out of his house just moments after he was done using her for petty marks and her body, he refused to house her when she had gotten pregnant with his child almost 6 years ago, saying Novali was ruined to have gotten pregnant in a wedlock.

Novali trudged through the desolate streets, her body heavy with exhaustion yet fueled by determination. The bitter sting of betrayal lingered, a harsh reminder of the cruel reality she now faced. He refused to acknowledge the innocent life that she carried within her and abandoned the babe he had forced in her.

The cold, unforgiving night mirrored her heart, shrouded in darkness and despair. She thought about seeking solace with her parents, but they too had turned their backs on her, choosing instead to side with societal norms. They’d abandoned her, leaving Novali alone to face the world’s harsh judgment. And it had taken quite a while, to stop caring for people like her parents, and she had.

She went back to the male, because of how powerful he was, and while he was drunk he would slip knowledge she wouldn't otherwise get. Her mind drifted back to the conversation she had overheard about the High Lord and more that he had told her, bitching about Rhysand.

The sound of a falcon made her look up. She put her little finger in the corner of her mouth and whistled to her bird. The falcon landed on top of Novali's head and let her pet him. The bird made a sound of contentment, and Novali followed, both of them enjoying the contact.

"Hello, Azazel," Novali whispered, scratching the bird's neck. She had found him injured on the streets, and it hadn't taken her long to feel a kinship with the bird, feeling as if they were the same, thrown on the streets, injured and left to die and it was easy to see that Azazel felt the same.

Azazel was way bigger than a normal falcon someone could find, possessing his own magic, and ability to sneak around despite his size, his wingspan was almost as long as Alekxia's arms, and his coat was completely black, leaving his pale crop to harden his ability to hide like her pale skin against her raven hair, but that didn't stop them.

The texture of Azazel's feathers was one of the few constant touches in her life, even though, she had shaken on deals, gotten a pat on the back, in rare cases even a hug it all felt strange to her. Unless it came from very specific friends of hers.

She would catch herself thinking about how it would feel to have a long tight hug with someone, to hold a hand, but when it happened, the texture of another skin on hers felt wrong. No matter how wanted.

Novali had felt him approach long before he fully got to her, from how Azazel had nipped at her pointed ear, "How are you...?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"The High Lord is coming for a visit in two days." Novali didn't beat around the bush, not quite wanting to talk about how she was.

Aleksander tilted his head as he looked at her, "Rhysand, the High Lord?" He asked, brows rising, "He remembers us?"

Novali laughed sharply, "Apparently." She slowed slightly so they could match their walk. "We should talk with Cahira around."

Lanterns were hanging from huts, powered by magic, the only source of light in the place that Novali called home, sitting on a small round table, sitting with her friends.

Aleksander raised his hand, and the fire in the lanterns increased in intensity, "So, High Lord is visiting, start talking." He nodded to Novali.

"He's coming in a day or two, Sailas wants me to attend with him..." Novali sighed, "He's got a dress for me, he doesn't want me to wear my normal clothes. It's going to be a massive party." She watched her friends as she spoke, "Almost as big as the last party Eris Vanserra ever attended, Salias' words."

"Ughh..." Cahira made a face, "Sometimes, I am glad I'm disowned."

The three friends look at each other with a serious expressions before they burst out laughing.

Novali smiled, "I've only heard that once before from you." She sets down a plate of meats, Cahira bringing different forms of slices of bread. They had cooked in bulk like they did for their fellow faelings, to offer them, eating last.

Aleksander hummed, taking food for himself, "Well, my darling mother didn't invite me." He leaned in his chair, the chair underneath him creaking lightly.

"I do not want to be there, either." Novali sighed, "But I need to be, we should know what Rhysand wants with our people."

"Perhaps he's beinging golden boy here?" Cahira rolled her eyes, sipping her water. "He'd want to see the shit hole he's let this place become."

Novali cleared her throat, the three of them weren't old by any means, but they were old enough to know what was happening in their home court, and to know it wasn't right.

"The heir should be of age..." Novali added, "So it makes sense, he's showing him High Lord things."

Leaning back in his chair, Aleksander lets out a sigh, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the worn wooden surface of the table. His amber gaze was shadowed with concern.

Cahira and Novali exchange glances, understanding passing between them without words. The tension in the air is palpable. Nothing could be said to dilute it, none of them liked not knowing if something big was about to go down.

After they had done catching up with their day, they retired to their beds, as Novali was alone she slipped into her bed, "Shristi...?" She smiled at the little fae she shared a bed with. The fae she had faked the death of, her entire world.

Shristi opened her eyes the second she heard her mother's voice, the 6-year-old smiled, snuggling into Novali, "Mama... You're home..."

"I'm home..." Novali rested her head on their shared pillow, "Were you good for Cahira, sweety?"

Shristi nodded in her chest, "Very good."

"That's wonderful." Novali sighed, stroking her daughter's back as she looked up, she could hear the silence in the place as no one was awake, no one but her, because Novali never slept, she couldn't afford to be vulnerable, so she got used to staying up till she passed out of exhaustion.

She smiled lightly as she heard Azazel return to his nest in her home, also retiring for the night. The talk she had with her fiance was ringing in her ear, the drunken fool had let a lot slip. The heir, Nyx, was indeed coming with the High Lord and Lady, combined with the inner circle.

She wondered what it would be like to have them in Hewn City, how much power she would feel, would they care for what was happening to them? Or would they just simply turn a blind eye to them?

Her mind pondered endless questions till her eyelids grew heavy and she shut them, exhaling lightly, ears still strained in a final attempt to not let down her guard.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey Taglist- @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya}

[romanticatheartt]

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ Mama Feyre and Nyxie🥹❤️‍🩹

Credit: keridoodles

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate pt.11

Read part one here.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x TamlinsDaughter!Reader

Summary: Reader and Nyx meet again, this time exploring Velaris—and much more about their fates are revealed.

Warnings: Minor conflict, protective parents, forbidden love, and some kissing 👀

A.Note: I haven’t posted since last yearrr I am so sorry to all of you, but part two is finally here!! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s a little bit more fast paced but I wanted to speed it along so I could get to the actual good stuff. Make sure you read part one prior to this!

Word count: 7.1k

I was in my bedroom, rereading a book for the sixth time. It was the least favorite on my shelf, worn only from idle desperation rather than love. Father didn't often take me out to buy new books; when he did, it was always after much coaxing. I could go without him, but only with a sentry trailing me. And I hated inconveniencing them with what he called my "silly hobby." So, I waited until my father needed something from the town, and then I'd quietly slip a purchase into our errands.

It had been a week—exactly seven days—since the ball at the Dawn Court. Since I'd talked with a stranger until sunrise. It was strange, missing someone whose name I didn't even know. But I did. I missed the way he teased me, the way I could be me with him—unguarded and, for once, unjudged. My chest ached at the memory, yet I forced my attention back to the book in my lap, pretending not to notice how hollow the words felt tonight.

"I could take you to the bookstore, you know."

I jolted upright at the sudden intrusion in my mind, my breath catching at the unfamiliar—yet eerily familiar—cool tone.

"Who's there?" My whispered words sounded absurd even to me, as I scanned my empty room for a presence that couldn't possibly be real. My pulse thundered, but no one appeared.

"In your head, princess," the voice replied smoothly, amusement curling through every syllable.

My breath hitched. That voice... his voice.

"How are you doing that?" I whispered, my grip tightening on the book.

"Daemati powers," he answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Daemati. My thoughts raced. Only a few could wield that kind of power, and even fewer had the skill to enter a mind from such a distance, wherever he was. The realization sent a shiver down my spine. "Get out of my head."

"Let me take you to the bookstore, and I will."

"I can't go out." The words came out sharp, though I wasn't sure whether I was speaking to him or to myself. "My father would—"

"Your father isn't home, is he?" he interrupted, his voice dipping into a dry hum. "Come now, are there wards locking you in?"

"No," I admitted, frowning, disliking that he already knew that fact.

"Chains on your doors or windows?"

"No, but—"

"Then you can leave."

"It's not that simple," I snapped, then clamped my mouth shut, wincing at my own volume.

A quiet pause. Then, softly, "What happened to the girl I met at the ball? The one who wasn't afraid to sneak away and stay out until dawn?"

"This is manipulation," I grumbled, though my chest fluttered at the memory of that night.

"Is it working?" he purred, smug.

"Yes," I muttered under my breath, hating the warmth that pooled in my stomach.

"Good. Meet me at the Spring and Summer border."

Before I could argue, the connection snapped, leaving me alone in the quiet, moonlit room. I stared at the book in my lap, then closed it with a sharp thud and tossed it onto the bed.

I shouldn't do this. I couldn't do this.

And yet, I was already moving—slipping into boots, shrugging on my satchel, and inching my window open with careful fingers. The night air kissed my skin as I hoisted myself onto the sill, every creak of the frame sending a thrill of nervous energy through me as my feet planted on the roof below me.

The climb down the flower-covered lattice was agonizingly slow, the wooden structure groaning beneath my weight as I scaled the two-story descent. By the time my feet touched the ground, my heart was racing. I pressed myself into the shadows, my movements silent as I made my way past the lingering, half-awake sentries and through the edge of the wards.

Once outside, I winnowed. The magic tugged at my ribs, spinning me through space until I landed at the Spring and Summer border.

It wasn't hard to spot him. He was already there, leaning casually against a sunstone pillar, his wings catching the moonlight like black silk. Shadows played along the sharp lines of his face, accentuating the curve of his mouth as he smiled—a sharp, knowing thing that made my steps falter.

"Evening, princess," he drawled, pushing off the pillar with an ease that made everything about him look so effortless.

"You know my title, but I still don't know your name," I replied, crossing my arms in a poor attempt to mask the way my heart stumbled at the sight of him.

His grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Let's keep it that way for now. Mystery suits us, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, his hand shot out, plucking something from my hair. He held it up between two fingers—a small, pale pink rose. "You've got a knack for dramatic entrances," he said, twirling the flower.

"Must've fallen when I climbed down the lattice," I muttered, taking the rose from his hand, though my fingers brushed his for a beat longer than necessary.

His brow arched in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me flowers don't just grow from your hair? And here I thought you were a goddess in disguise."

"Don't be ridiculous." I snorted, very un-goddess-like. "This, however, I can do." I cupped the rose in my palm, letting a sliver of my magic flow into it.

The transformation was instant. Vines sprouted from the stem, curling down my wrist in an intricate dance, tiny buds blooming along their length. The rose gleamed in the moonlight, glowing faintly with the life I'd breathed into it.

His smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed wonder. The silver light of the moon reflected in his gaze as he leaned closer, studying the vines with an intensity that made heat crawl up my neck. "Impressive," he murmured, his voice softer now. "What else can you do?"

I met his gaze, a grin tugging at my lips. "I'll tell you when you explain how you're able to read my thoughts."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Touché," he said, the smirk returning as he straightened. He extended a hand toward me, his wings shifting slightly as if preparing for flight. "Shall we?"

"Go where?" I asked, tilting my head.

"To the bookstore, of course."

"At midnight?" My disbelieving laugh echoed in the quiet night. "They're all closed."

"Not in the Night Court." His grin turned wolfish, his wings flaring just enough to cast long shadows. "Come on, I'll show you."

I froze, my stomach twisting at the mention of his court. My voice dropped to a whisper. "The Night Court? I'm not allowed to go there. My father forbade it."

"Well," he said with a pointed glance at my boots, "he also forbade sneaking out, and yet, here we are."

His smile was the very definition of trouble, but it faltered when he caught the hesitation in my eyes. The sharp edges of his expression softened. "We don't have to. If you want, I'll winnow you right back to Spring. No harm done."

My lips parted to refuse. To tell him I couldn't, I shouldn't. But the way he watched me, that glint of challenge in his gaze, made something reckless and wild spark to life in my chest. Against every ounce of better judgment, I stepped forward and slipped my hand into his.

"No," I said softly. "I want to."

His fingers tightened around mine, warmth spreading up my arm. "Just one question before we go," I said, my voice light but curious.

"Anything," he replied, his tone low and almost teasing.

"Are there monsters in the libraries there? Creatures made of nightmares?"

His chuckle was deep and smooth, like a shadow curling around the edges of my thoughts. "Bryaxis?" He grinned. "They're a friend."

I stared at him, horrified and awed all at once. "You made friends with a nightmare?"

He tugged me closer, a wicked gleam lighting his face. "Oh, princess," he murmured, his voice dipping into something darker, more thrilling. "You have no idea the company I keep."

Before I could say another word, the world dissolved into darkness.

—

The Night court wasn't the stories my father had told me as a child at all. Tales of monsters crawling from the shadows and winged creatures coming to steal me away. Rather, it was breathtaking, even at first glance. The scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of laughter and music drifting from nearby streets. Lanterns hung in the air like suspended stars, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone paths and vibrant market stalls.

I stumbled slightly as we landed, but Nyx's hand tightened around mine, steadying me. "Easy there, princess," he murmured, the warmth of his voice grounding me.

I glanced at our joined hands, but he made no move to let go, so I didn't pull away.

"This... this is the Night Court?" I whispered, my voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Velaris," he corrected softly, his gaze flicking over the streets like it was a lover's touch. "The City of Starlight."

I didn't know where to look first. Everything was alive, vibrant, yet somehow soothing, like the city itself was breathing. The Night Market stretched out before us, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Vendors called out to passing patrons, their stalls brimming with everything from exotic spices to delicate jewelry and hand-woven silk.

"You live here?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"Sometimes," he said vaguely, a shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips.

We began to walk, and almost immediately, heads started to turn. A merchant at a nearby stall beamed when she saw him. "Haven't seen you in weeks, boy!" she called, waving a hand towards us.

He shot the vendor a look, though it wasn't unkind. "Evening, Mrs. Fowley," he said quickly, guiding me forward before I could ask more questions.

But then another vendor spotted him. And another. Each one greeted him like an old friend, their faces lighting up as if his presence alone had brightened their evening.

"Back again, lad?" one called.

"Nyx, come here," Their voice cut through the chatter of the market. His steps faltered, his head turning toward the sound.

"Nyx?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as he guided me toward the voice, his hand still warm and steady in mine.

His eyes flicked down to meet mine, a grin tugging at his lips. "Cat's out of the bag, I suppose."

"Bat's out of the bag," I quipped, gesturing to the wings folded neatly behind him.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Well, aren't you clever," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement.

"Who's this pretty girl?" a female asked as we approached, the same one who had called him over. She held a tray of pastries, her expression kind and curious.

He—Nyx—looked at me then, really looked, with an intensity that made my cheeks warm. Before he could answer, a group of giggling girls stumbled down the path, one of them brushing past me and bumping me forward into his chest.

"My girlfriend," he said smoothly, his arm curling around my waist, pulling me closer.

I blinked up at him, startled by his words, but as I caught the wide-eyed, dismayed looks from the group of girls, understanding dawned.

"Ah, careful with this one, love. Just like his father with the ladies," the baker teased her tone light and amused as she gave me a playful wink. Nyx's arm tightened slightly around my waist at her words.

"Here, take a sweet. For whatever trouble he puts you through," she said, plucking a chocolate-covered croissant from her tray with a pair of tongs and holding it out to me.

I hesitated for a moment before accepting the pastry, a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Thank you, Miss," I said softly, my fingers brushing hers as I took the treat.

She waved me off with a warm smile. "Call me Ressina. I run this stand for his aunt's bakery, and I have a feeling I'll be seeing more of you."

I nodded, smiling. "I hope so," I said sincerely, her kindness making the bustling market feel a little less overwhelming.

"Go on, then," she said, shooing us away. "Don't let me keep you."

Nyx didn't need to be told twice. His hand remained firm at my waist as he steered me back down the path, away from the stand.

I glanced up at him, raising a brow as I bit into the croissant. The pastry was perfect—flaky, buttery, and rich with chocolate that melted on my tongue. I made a quiet, appreciative sound before speaking. "You're popular, aren't you?"

He cleared his throat, quickening his pace as though trying to escape the conversation. "They're just friendly here."

"Friendly?" I teased, a mischievous lilt in my voice. "You must be their favorite customer—or maybe something more. Should I be jealous?"

His wings twitched, and a faint blush crept up his neck. "Are you jealous, princess?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Hardly," I grumbled before taking another large bite of the delectable pastry.

"The baker is a family friend," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "She seemed to like you."

"Plenty seem to like you," I muttered under my breath, finishing the last bite of the pastry. "Boyfriend?"

He cringed slightly, his expression sheepish. "Sorry. Those girls have been following me for weeks. I didn't want you to have to deal with them."

I grinned, delighting in his discomfort. "You know, if you wanted to keep a low profile, you're not doing a very good job of it," I mumble, finishing off the croissant and debating licking my fingers since it was so delicious.

He shot me a sidelong glance, his smirk returning with a wicked edge. "Jealousy looks good on you, princess."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrayed me.

We turned a corner, the bustle of the market fading behind us as we approached a cozier part of the street. Nyx slowed his pace, guiding me toward a small building nestled between two larger shops. A golden sign hung above the door, marking it as a bookshop.

I paused, taking in the sight. The windows glowed softly, and through the glass, I could see shelves upon shelves of books, their spines glinting like hidden treasures. My heart swelled at the sight.

Nyx pulled the door open, motioning for me to step inside. "After you."

The scent of parchment and ink greeted me like an old friend, mingling with the faint aroma of spiced tea. The warmth of the shop wrapped around me, inviting and comforting, as though it had been waiting just for us.

I turned to him, my lips parting to thank him, but he spoke first. "Go on. Find something you like."

His voice was softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something gentler. I hesitated for only a moment before stepping further in, my fingers trailing over the spines of books as I wandered through the aisles.

Nyx followed at a distance, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze steady on me.

"You brought me all this way for a book," I said over my shoulder, smiling. "You're either very kind or very strange."

"Can't I be both?" he replied, his smirk resurfacing as he leaned casually against a nearby shelf.

I shook my head, letting myself get lost in the rows of stories, their endless possibilities calling to me.

-

I let my fingers dance along the spines of the books, tracing gilded titles and worn leather bindings. Each shelf seemed to hum with stories waiting to be told. A soft sigh escaped me, my heart swelling with quiet contentment.

Behind me, Nyx's footsteps were faint, his presence unobtrusive but unmistakable. I could feel his gaze, watchful and steady, as I explored.

"Find something?" he asked after a while, his voice softer now, almost reverent in the quiet of the shop.

"Not yet," I admitted, my fingers pausing on a particularly beautiful hardback, still pristine and painted gold along its edges. I tilted my head, reading the title.

A smile tugged at my lips. "This seems interesting."

Nyx stepped closer, his warmth brushing against my back as he peered over my shoulder. "Good choice," he murmured, his breath stirring the hair near my temple.

I turned slightly, catching his gaze. "Do you read?"

"Of course," he said, mock offense coloring his tone. "What, do I not seem the type?"

I bit back a grin, holding the book against my chest. "You seem like the type to skim for interesting bits and skip the rest."

His grin turned wicked. "What can I say? I’ve never been one for small talk,"

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the shelves, but his laughter followed me.

"Here," he said after a moment, reaching past me. His arm brushed mine as he plucked a slim, leather-bound book from the shelf. He held it out, his eyes gleaming.

I took it from him, studying the worn cover. Lost Letters Between Lovers. I shot him a look, heat creeping into my cheeks.

His smirk deepened. "Thought it might be useful for you. In case you needed inspiration."

"For what exactly?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Winning me over," he said smoothly, his wings giving a small flick.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You've got it all wrong. I'm the one who needs convincing."

"Is that right?" he drawled, his voice low and amused.

I turned back to the shelves, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the flush that had spread down my neck.

After a few more moments of browsing, I found another book that caught my eye. I tucked it under my arm, satisfied.

"Done?" Nyx asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"For now," I said, turning to him. He tilted his head toward the counter, gesturing for me to follow.

The shopkeeper, an elderly male with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, greeted us warmly. "Nyx, my boy. Bringing someone special to the shop, I see."

I froze, suddenly hyperaware of Nyx standing beside me. His hand brushed against mine as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins.

"Just passing through, Mr. Tylan," he said smoothly, though there was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

Mr. Tylan chuckled knowingly. "Well, it's about time you brought a girl around, the missus and I were beginning to grow doubtful you’d ever meet the one.” He breathes through his nose as he speaks, expert hands wrapping the books in brown paper. “She has excellent taste."

Nyx handed over the payment before I could even think to rummage through my bag, his voice a touch gruff as he replied, "She does."

I glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. He didn't meet my gaze, instead picking up the small stack of books and tucking them under his arm.

"Come on," he said, inclining his head toward the door.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Tylan,” I say with a soft smile as Nyx ushers me out the door.

“See you around, dear,” He gives me a simple wave.

It was odd, how anxious Nyx seemed in a place as welcoming as this. Everyone was friendly, and everyone knew him, perhaps he was afraid we’d run into the wrong set of people.

The cool night air greeted us as we stepped outside, the lively sounds of the market drifting faintly in the distance. Nyx fell into step beside me, the books still cradled in one arm.

"You didn't have to buy these for me," I said softly as he held them out to me, though he seemed more than willing to continue carrying them for me.

He shrugged, his wings shifting slightly as I took them and stuffed them into my bag. "I wanted to."

I studied him for a moment, the quiet confidence in his stride, the way the moonlight danced across his features. "You're not as insufferable as you pretend to be," I said, smiling.

His lips twitched. "Don't let it go to your head, princess."

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the books pressing against my side with a comforting weight. Finally, I glanced at him, curiosity tugging at me.

"Why did you bring me here?"

He hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment before he recovered. "You seemed like the type who'd like it. Thought it might make you smile."

I stared at him, warmth blooming in my chest. "You thought right."

His smirk softened into something gentler, something more real. "Good."

As we reached the edge of the market, I found myself wishing the night didn't have to end.

"Nyx," I called softly, stopping in my tracks.

He turned, dark brows lifting in question, the moonlight catching in his vibrant blue eyes.

"Thank you. For tonight," I said, the words carrying more weight than I expected.

His gaze held mine, something unspoken flickering between us. Then he smiled, and it felt as if the stars themselves had leaned in to listen.

"You think it's over already?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "What else could you possibly have planned?"

He glanced skyward, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slid his hand into mine, his grip warm and steady, and winnowed us away.

The world shifted. The cool night air nipped at my skin, sharper here, and I realized we were higher—much higher. Thin air filled my lungs as I took in our new surroundings.

"Where are we?" I asked, turning in place. Encircling us were jagged rock formations, a barren beauty carved by time.

"Look up," he said simply.

I frowned but obeyed, tipping my head back. My breath hitched as the heavens unfolded above me, brighter and closer than I'd ever seen them. The stars weren't merely distant pinpricks of light—they blazed like fireflies caught in an eternal dance, constellations shimmering with unmatched clarity.

"Beautiful," I whispered, unaware the word had even left me.

"Indeed," he murmured.

I turned to him, startled to find him already staring at me. His gaze held the same reverence I felt for the stars, and my heart skipped.

I managed a soft smile, then let my eyes drift back upward, unable to tear myself away from the galaxy stretched endlessly above.

"Come here," he said gently, tugging my hand.

Only then did I realize we were still connected, his touch grounding me even as my mind reeled at the beauty around us. He led me to a rocky outcropping, the path winding into a shallow cave. For a moment, the stars disappeared behind the jagged stone ceiling, and I frowned.

But then we emerged into an open chamber, a perfect circle carved into the roof. It was as though someone had reached into the earth and torn a hole, desperate to preserve this view of the night sky. The chamber's walls cradled us, offering shelter without stealing the stars.

Nyx guided me to a makeshift bench—a cluster of smooth, square stones—and sat. I followed, still entranced, my gaze drawn skyward as if bewitched.

"I used to come here when I was younger," he said after a moment of quiet. His voice was low, intimate in the stillness. "I'd forgotten about it until tonight. You reminded me it existed."

I tore my eyes from the sky to glance at him, curiosity tugging at me. "How could anyone forget a place like this?"

He smiled faintly. "It was my escape from, everything. My family. Expectations. I needed somewhere I could breathe."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the stars. "I get the feeling."

He bumped his shoulder against mine, drawing my gaze once more. "No one else knows about it. But I thought maybe you'd need a place like this, too."

Warmth bloomed in my chest, his words wrapping around me like a soft blanket. I glanced at him, and again, he was already staring at me.

I arched a brow. "You have a staring problem, you know."

His lips curved into a smirk. "Do I? I hadn't noticed."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

Together, we gazed upward. He traced the constellations with his words, his voice soft and steady, while his thumb brushed gentle circles over the back of my hand. Each star above felt like it had been hung there just for us, as if the universe had paused to watch this quiet moment unfold.

For the first time in a long time, I felt peace.

"Nyx?" I asked softly after a few beats of silence.

He tensed ever so slightly at the sound of his name, a shiver rolling through him. I told myself it was because of the chill in the air.

"Hmm?"

"Who are you, really?"

His breathing slowed at my question, as if he were recalibrating, regaining control of a situation he hadn't anticipated losing.

"I have a feeling," I began, "that the power you used to peek into my head knows my lineage. It's only fair I know who you are, too."

He glanced at me, a cocky, almost childish smirk playing on his lips—a look that said, I'm not telling.

"Come on," I groaned, throwing my free hand out in frustration. His other hand still held mine, warm and steadfast. He hadn't let go, and I didn't want to, either.

"Don't you like a bit of mystery?" he teased.

"It's not a mystery when you already know who I am," I countered, arching a brow.

"Fair point, Princess."

Heat crept up my neck at the nickname, one he'd used since the beginning—since before he'd seen into my thoughts.

"You knew," I murmured, realization dawning. My voice wavered, the words trembling like brittle leaves in the wind. "You've known I'm a High Lord's daughter all along. That's why you're entertaining this, isn't it?"

I pulled my hand from his and stood abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest.

His brows furrowed as he looked up at me, confusion—and something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "What?"

"Don't play clueless now." My voice rose, a mixture of anger and humiliation bubbling to the surface. "You've known exactly who I am. That's why you're showing me the stars, why you're charming me. You're trying to secure a seat on my father's throne."

"You think I'm charming?" he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I spluttered, words dying on my tongue. "That's not the point—"

"Look," he cut in, his tone steady but laced with urgency. "Yes, I've known who you were from the start. I won't deny that. But, Princess, believe me when I say the last thing I want is your father's throne."

"Why should I believe you?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "You've done nothing but lie to me since we met. Why should I trust anything you say now?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me differently," he admitted, his voice quieter now, raw. "Because of who I am."

I froze, my anger wavering. My voice softened. "And who, exactly, is that?"

"The heir to the Night Court," he said, the words falling from his lips like a confession he'd carried for too long.

The ground seemed to slip out from under me. My vision blurred for a heartbeat, but I blinked hard, willing myself to stay rooted in the moment.

My father had warned me relentlessly about the Lord of Night—engraved the warning into my mind until it became part of me. The Night Court was treacherous. Its people were dangerous.

But he lied about the court. About its beauty.

Perhaps he lied about its people, too.

"Gods, I’m sure a fool.” I sighed, putting everything together. “Nyx Archeron," I said slowly, his name foreign and familiar on my tongue.

He nodded, watching me intently. "When I approached you on the balcony, I didn't know who you were. I swear it. But as we talked, I got comfortable, let my power stretch a bit further. Halfway through the night, I realized who you were. But I... I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want our parents' feud to dictate—this."

"This?" I asked faintly, though I didn't need clarification.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I can take you home, if you'd prefer."

Disappointment weighed in his tone, a stark contrast to the teasing arrogance I'd grown used to.

I wasn't mad at him for his lineage—he had no control over that. I wasn't even mad he'd lied. I was mad he hadn't told me sooner. Mad that it cast a shadow over everything we'd shared tonight, turning our conversations into something that felt artificial.

My shoulders slumped, the fight leaving me as quickly as it had arrived. I lowered myself back onto the bench beside him.

"I want to start over," I said, my voice hesitant but firm.

Relief washed over his features, and he relaxed slightly, though he kept a cautious distance. "I'm sorry for lying," he said, his words softer now, more earnest. "I was, nervous."

Something told me that wasn't an emotion he felt often.

"I know," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. Perhaps I was the only person who could.

Taking a steadying breath, I turned to him. "It's nice to meet you, officially, Nyx," I said, a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

"Likewise, Princess," he replied, mirroring my smile.

And in the silence that followed, we both silently agreed to leave the past behind us, if only for tonight.

Nyx leaned back, resting his arms on the bench as he looked up at the stars. "You know, I've never interacted with someone who’s an heir too. Should I be bowing?"

I smirked, tilting my head as I looked at him. "Oh, absolutely. A bow is essential. Maybe even throw in a grand speech. Something like, It is my great honor to meet the Princess of the Spring Court."

"That's a tall order," he said, his lips curving into that infuriatingly smug grin. "Would a wink and a smile suffice?"

I scoffed, leaning forward and propping my chin on my hand. "You'd probably trip over your own feet if you tried to bow."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, one brow arching in amusement.

"It's an educated guess," I shot back, crossing my arms.

He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "You know, for someone who called me charming earlier, you're being awfully cruel."

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away. "I said no such thing."

"Oh, you definitely did." He grinned, leaning even closer. "You think I'm charming. Admit it."

"Nyx—"

"Say it, Princess."

I narrowed my eyes, pretending to deliberate. "You know what? Fine. I think you're charming, in the same way a stray cat is charming when it's begging for food. Annoying, persistent, but kind of hard to ignore."

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing fully, the tension leaving the both of us. "Fair enough. But if I'm a stray cat you're certainly a rabbit."

I blinked, caught off guard. "A rabbit?"

He nodded, his grin widening. "Cute, curious, and way too confident for your own good."

"Confident?" I repeated, laughing. "This coming from you? The heir of the Night Court who decided to winnow me across Prythian on a whim?"

"That was a calculated risk," he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes gave him away.

"Calculated risk, my ass." I shook my head, unable to hide my grin. "You're lucky I haven't punched you yet."

"Oh, Princess," he drawled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "If you wanted an excuse to get your hands on me, you could've just asked."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. His proximity was... distracting.

The air shifted, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, heavier. His gaze locked on mine, and I swore the world shrank to just the two of us, the stars above fading into the background.

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the way my heart was suddenly racing. "You're ridiculous."

"I offered to take you home," he said softly, his thumb brushing idly over the back of my hand and I wasn’t sure when they intertwined again, "and yet here we are." His tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something real.

I didn't answer, my throat suddenly tight. He was too close now, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Before I could overthink it, his hand moved, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers lingered at my temple, his touch featherlight.

"Nyx..." I breathed, not even sure what I was about to say.

But he didn't answer—not with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the gentlest, softest kiss.

It was tentative, as if he wasn't sure if I'd pull away. But I didn't. I couldn't help but kiss him back. It was foreign, but filling me with a warmth similar to the sun's morning rays.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I shook my head, my thoughts a tangle of emotions. "We can't," I blurted, though my voice betrayed me with its lack of conviction.

"I know," he replied, his voice heavy with something that felt like regret—but also determination.

Our eyes remained locked, mere inches apart. We really couldn't, not with who we were, not with who our parents were.

Neither of us seemed to care at that moment, and I don't know if it was me or him who moved first, but suddenly his soft lips were back on mine.

This time, there was no hesitation. His hand cupped my jaw, pulling me closer as his lips claimed mine. It wasn't soft or shy anymore—it was raw, urgent, as though the world might end if he didn't kiss me harder.

I felt myself melt into it, my hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his free hand moving to my waist to hold me steady. The air around us seemed to shift, thickening, crackling with an energy I couldn't place.

Then it happened.

A snap, like a tether locking into place.

I gasped against his lips but didn't move away, the sensation overwhelming as something warm and ancient bloomed deep in my chest, spreading through me like wildfire. It was hard to put into words, but suddenly I felt connected to the male against me, connected to his emotions, his thoughts, his very soul. Tethered. Bound.

Nyx pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as his breath came in quick, uneven bursts. His eyes were wide, filled with equal parts wonder and disbelief.

"You felt that too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could only nod, my own breath shaking as I tried to process what had just happened.

The mating bond.

The realization settled between us like a living, breathing thing, as though it had been waiting for this exact moment to make itself known.

"Nyx," I began again, but he silenced me with a small, disbelieving chuckle.

He leaned in again, kissing me softly, the smile on his lips brushing against mine like a whispered secret. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself, as if the bond was drawing him closer with every passing second. When he pulled back, his amusement lingered in his expression, though his eyes were heavy with the weight of what we'd just discovered.

"The gods have a cruel way of amusing themselves," he murmured, his voice laced with irony.

I sighed, our noses brushing as we remained impossibly close. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We'll figure it out," he reassured, his tone soft but certain. His hands, strong and steady, cradled my face, grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. "It doesn't have to change anything."

"But it will," I argued, my voice trembling.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern against my cheek. "I know."

The ache in my chest was something new and raw, a longing that pulsed in time with the bond, an unspoken promise tying us together. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once. My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to sift through the torrent of thoughts crashing over me.

After a moment, his demeanor grew more serious, though his thumb continued its soothing path along my cheek. “We’ll need somewhere safe to be when we accept the bond.”

I tilted my head, my eyes fluttering open as I frowned at him

In confusion. “Safe?”

His lips quirked, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’ve heard stories of what happens to couples during The Frenzy. It’s, intense.”

A shiver ran through me at his words, not from the cold, but from the vivid images that his tone—and my imagination—conjured.

Nyx raised a brow, clearly catching the direction of my thoughts, but I quickly stammered, “Just cold.”

“Cold?” His smirk returned, though it was softer this time, laced with something tender. “Here.”

Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The warmth of it enveloped me immediately, carrying his scent—fresh air, cedarwood, and something uniquely him.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as his hands lingered for a moment, making sure the jacket sat snugly around me.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary before he settled back, his hand casually brushing against mine.

And just like that, the air between us shifted again—lighter, easier, yet still charged with something deeper.

“We’ll figure this out,” Nyx said softly, his confidence unwavering.

Looking at him now, his jacket around my shoulders and a small, reassuring smile on his lips, I knew he meant it.

And then, as if he couldn't resist, he kissed me again.

This one was gentle, hesitant, but filled with so much care it nearly unraveled me. His lips lingered on mine, soft and warm, making it impossibly hard to focus.

"Lucien," I blurted out, pulling back suddenly.

Nyx blinked, his brows furrowing at my abrupt shift. "What about him?"

An idea began to form, one I clung to like a lifeline. "Lucien—you know him, don't you?"

"He's married to my aunt," Nyx said cautiously, his tone laced with curiosity.

I nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place in my mind. "My father lets me visit the Day Court now that Lucien is ruling there. Maybe... maybe I can convince him to let me stay with Lucien for a while. You could find a reason to be there too."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his mind clearly racing through the implications. "And when you have to return to the Spring Court?" he asked, his voice measured.

"We'll figure it out then," I said, shaking my head. The thought of leaving him made my chest tighten painfully, but I pushed through the discomfort. "I just... I want this. I want us."

His answer was immediate, the conviction in his voice struck a chord deep within me. "I do too."

"Good," I said, a small, tentative smile forming on my lips. "Then tomorrow, I'll talk to my father. In the meantime, you can talk to me using your Daemati powers. Can't you?"

He nodded, his sapphire eyes softening as they roamed over my face.

"We'll be fine," I said, my voice steadier now, the words carrying a newfound determination.

Nyx mirrored my smile, and for a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed to just the two of us. This male—who had teased me, infuriated me, and unraveled me in the span of a week—had somehow wormed his way into my heart. And now, with the bond tying us together, I couldn't imagine life without him.

"Are we okay with Lucien and your aunt knowing?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper as the thought hit me.

"They'd be the first people I'd tell out of my entire family," he said without hesitation.

"Me too," I agreed softly.

His thumb brushed against my cheek again, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "We'll be fine," he repeated as if trying to convince us both.

But as he said it, I believed him.

The warmth between us lingered as we sat on the bench, the conversation flowing back into the easy rhythm of banter. He teased me about my lack of subtlety in staring, while I reminded him that he was the one who practically glowed under the moonlight, making it impossible not to.

But the night was growing late, and the weight of reality began to creep in.

"I should get you back to Summer's borders," Nyx finally said, his voice tinged with reluctance.

I sighed, not wanting the night to end, but I nodded. "You're right."

He stood and offered me his hand, which I took without hesitation. "Three days," I said as we began walking out of the cave. "Meet me in Day."

He smiled, a flash of teeth and mischief. "Three days."

—

When we reached the border, the air seemed heavier, more final. I turned to him, feeling the pull of the bond even as I prepared to leave. I shrugged off the jacket he had draped over my shoulders and held it out to him.

"Here," I said. "Take it back. If my father sees it, he'll have questions."

He crossed his arms, smirking. "Keep it."

I frowned. "Nyx—"

"Nope. You keep it. Hide it if you're worried about your father. Or don't. Either way, it gives me an excuse to see you again."

I gave him a flat look, but his smugness only deepened.

"Nyx," I repeated, more firmly this time, shoving the jacket into his chest.

He caught it easily but didn't take it. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. "Princess, if you give it back, I'll have no reason to track you down. And that would be such a shame."

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. His logic was infuriatingly charming, and the grin he wore told me he knew he was winning.

"Fine," I relented with a dramatic sigh, clutching the jacket back to my chest. "You win."

His smile softened into something warmer as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against my lips. It was quick, light, and left me wanting more.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice like a caress.

I huffed a laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Don't push it."

But he kissed me again, this time slower, deeper, his hands sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. I melted into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against mine.

"Nyx," I whispered against his mouth, the word half a chuckle. "I have to go."

"One more," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

I hesitated, but the bond between us tugged insistently, and I found myself nodding. "Fine."

This time, he kissed me like he wanted me to remember it, to carry the taste of him back with me to Spring. His hands framed my face as his lips claimed mine, the kiss lingering, searing itself into my memory.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing uneven. "Three days," he whispered.

"Three days," I echoed, my voice soft, but my resolve firm.

With one last lingering glance, I winnowed back to Spring Court Manor, the taste of him still on my lips and his jacket clutched tightly in my hands.

My father was going to kill me.

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[lykingart]

Imagine, growing up Nyx thought his mom’s name was ‘Feyre Darling’ because that’s what his dad calls her

[rainingriversofyou]

Feyre, Rhysand & Nyx - A Court Of Thorns And Roses

Artist: chelzd_art

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right?

An Eris x Reader drabble

(Part 2) (Part 3)

Warnings: a bit smutty, language

“Your dad’s going to kill you.”

My head was pounding. This bed was so warm.

Last night was a blur.

Nyx, how many times do I have to request that you not intrude on my thoughts before 9 am.

“It’s almost noon, cousin.”

Shit!

Shit, cover for me! Please.

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Right. I know. Cover for me anyway?

“One hour. Be here in one hour. You owe me.”

Don’t worry, Nyxie. I’ll cover for you the next time you visit the lovely daughter of Spring.

Slamming my mental shields up, I rolled over to the fiery lover next to me with a groan, “Get me out of this autumnal wasteland.”

“Good morning to you too, little one.” the redhead pressed against my backside grumbled.

I rolled over to smack his shoulder. “Gross, Eris. I’m the same age as Aunt Nesta when you proposed to her.”

Eris smirked. “She never called me daddy like you do.”

I let out a mirthful laugh, hoisting myself on top of him, straddling just below his rippled abdomen, “I’m never fucking you again.”

“You say that every time, dear.” Gripping his hands on my hips, groggy voice a whisper, “Yet somehow you keep falling back into my bed.”

Fuck. He was so hot.

I leaned down, pressing my breasts to his bare chest, face just an inch from his. “I can’t help that my shadows love how you beg.”

A growl escaped the back of his throat as my shadows restrained his wrists above his head. My gaze turned icy as I commanded, “Eyes on me, Eris.”

His only response a shift of his hips.

“Don’t fucking move.” I purred.

Nyx could keep the family off my back for a little longer.

[high-queen-feyre]

Feyre being a mom fills me with so much joy, like yeah babe, tell em how it's done.

Both Feyre and Rhysand will break the cycles, Feyre being an attentive mother that she didn't have and Rhys being the affectionate father that he didn't have.

I'm ok... I'm not tearing up... I'm good.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Blossoms and Shadows

Summary: 

Nyx now all grown up decides to introduce his new love Y/N to the Night Court.

Word Count: 724

Warnings: None 

Velaris was as breathtaking as ever, its beauty magnified by the vibrant energy that filled the streets. The House of Wind buzzed with anticipation, its occupants eager for the arrival of Nyx and his guest. Feyre and Rhysand had meticulously prepared the house, ensuring everything was perfect for this significant introduction.

Nyx, now a striking young man with his father’s charm and his mother’s fierce determination, was bringing someone special home. The Night Court was ready to welcome her, though they couldn’t help but feel a tinge of curiosity and concern. She was from the Spring Court—a distant cousin of Tamlin.

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the city, the door to the House of Wind opened. Nyx stepped in, his arm around a beautiful young woman with golden hair and emerald eyes that sparkled with intelligence and warmth.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Nyx announced, his voice filled with pride and affection.

Y/N smiled, her gaze sweeping across the gathered members of the Night Court. Feyre and Rhysand stood side by side, their expressions welcoming but scrutinizing. Cassian and Nesta were nearby, Cassian’s eyes twinkling with mischief while Nesta maintained her usual composed demeanor. Azriel and Elain were a little further back, Azriel’s shadows curling protectively around Elain as they watched the newcomers.

“Welcome, Y/N,” Feyre said, stepping forward and offering her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/N took Feyre’s hand, her smile warm and genuine. “Thank you, Lady Feyre. It’s an honor to be here.”

Rhysand chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Please, call us Feyre and Rhys. No need for formalities among family and friends.”

Nyx squeezed Y/N’s hand, his eyes full of reassurance. “Come on, let’s sit down. There’s so much to talk about.”

As they made their way to the sitting area, Cassian couldn’t resist a teasing comment. “You know, there’s something about women from the Spring Court always falling for the Night Court. Must be our irresistible charm.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and musical. “Or maybe it’s because you guys keep saving us from all sorts of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter, the tension easing as everyone settled into comfortable conversation. Y/N shared stories of her life in the Spring Court, her voice animated and engaging. Despite her connection to Tamlin, she spoke with admiration for Nyx and the Night Court, clearly enchanted by their world.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself in a deeper conversation with Feyre and Rhysand, while Nyx was pulled aside by Cassian and Azriel.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself quite the match,” Cassian said, clapping Nyx on the back.

Nyx smiled, his eyes following Y/N’s every move. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Azriel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “She seems to handle herself well. And she’s clearly smitten with you.”

Nyx’s smile widened. “I’m smitten with her too. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

Cassian’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just remember, we’ll always have your back. But we’ll also keep an eye on her—Spring Court connections and all.”

Nyx laughed, appreciating his uncles' protectiveness. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Meanwhile, Y/N was sharing a moment with Feyre, who couldn’t help but notice the young woman’s genuine affection for her son.

“You seem to care for Nyx a great deal,” Feyre said softly.

Y/N met Feyre’s gaze, her eyes earnest. “I do. He’s everything to me. I know our courts have a complicated history, but I believe we can build something beautiful together.”

Feyre smiled, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand. “I believe that too. Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

As the night wore on, the bonds between Y/N and the Night Court members strengthened, the initial wariness giving way to acceptance and warmth. Nyx and Y/N stood on the balcony, looking out over the city, their hands intertwined.

“This feels like a dream,” Y/N whispered, leaning into Nyx’s embrace.

Nyx kissed her forehead, his heart full. “It’s our reality now. And we’ll face whatever comes our way together.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. “Together.”

And so, under the starry night sky of Velaris, the Night Court welcomed a new member into their fold, proving once again that love could blossom even in the most unexpected of places.

[shallyne]

Headcanon

Nyxie has a phase where he tries to copy Rhys in everything. His stance, how he eats, walks, talks. When Rhys does paperwork, Nyx sits right beside him scribbling on a piece of paper (very important, like dad) he tries to flap his little wings like Rhys

All that stuff

@officialrhysandweek

[viajandopelomar]

I believe the death pact wasn’t to keep Feysand off battle, it was there to keep only Feyre off the plots.

And I‘m 100% Feyre will be the one to take care of Nyx while Rhys continues ruling the court. You can tell by how involved Rhys was in hofas while Feyre was completely absent. Hell, he even played a role in one of the bonus chapters.

Sjm does not consider Feyre and Rhys as equals, no amount of saying that they are will never change that fact. Ever since we got out of her pov completely she‘s just there. Hell, even in acomaf it felt like Rhys is the model and Feyre the cameraman. Sjm used the pregnancy plot and the death pact to keep Feyre in the background.

That’s why I fucking hate her pregnancy and death pact. They can label me a misogynist all they want, but considering how they don’t mention Feyre‘s absent or lack of involvement in the latest books, they‘re the true misogynists here.

Tbh I think she doesn’t like the archeron sisters at all, but she certainly loves the bat boys.

If you pay attention, you'll notice that nothing has changed. In Feyre's POV we have her being briefed on the situations by Rhsyand, and then her opinion is the same as his, her actions are what he advised her, what he said "is the only way". She never knew everything, she only received information after everyone else knew, and Rhysand always said along with what the others were already doing about it, so she had nothing to do except train with him 🤷🏻‍♀️. She didn't know about many things even in ACOWAR, as a high lady. She even asks Rhysand if HE will make Velaris a sanctuary for those who need it after the war, she ASKED him, despite supposedly being equal and possessing the same power.

Rhysand and Feyre can claim that she gives orders and is respected all they want, but in the entire third book we see Rhsyand dictating everything (and still walking around naked in the excavated city, as every queen with power does, right?), she just went and did what he said. Except that because it's her POV, and she thinks she has authority, she really does. I'm with the people who only saw it in ACOSF, out of her eyes. Because it's so much clearer.

We get scenes of Cassian asking Rhsyand if Feyre knows, and then Rhsyand says no, she doesn't know. And this happened more than once. Then Rhysand will probably inform Feyre as in the scenes in ACOWAR and ACOMAF, with Feyre asking what they would do next, and he will tell her what the others are already doing about it. Absolutely NOTHING has changed! Title or no title, she only knows things after everyone else.

Everyone knows that Feyre only has the title because she received it, so it makes no difference. I haven't read HOFAS, but as far as I know, Feyre appears and is presented as nothing more than "Rhsyand's wife", and the information isn't wrong. She's the consort who gave him his heir (and it's her responsibility to raise him, to make sure he's a good prince, which is why she's going to disappear even more), but she's the silly little girl brought up from the rabble who THINKS she has some power because she married a nobleman.

Usually characters like her are a pain in the ass for manhwa protagonists 🫠 (I really don't like them, they just cry 😭😭 in the kings' lap, and they always do what they want). Acotar is all buggy because the narrative tries so hard to make it seem like Feyre actually has something that wasn't gained through marriage. In any other work or narrative she would be annoying, but SJM must fantasize about being Feyre and crying in Rhsyand's lap whenever the opportunity arises 🙂.

Sorry for the delay, anonymous. After I saw the notification it disappeared, so I forgot there was something in my inbox 🤡

[littlest-w01f]

Meeting in Grey

Pairing: Nyx x Original Female Character

MAIN MASTERLIST

Growing up believing the world is black and white, good and evil, a world divided into Dreams and Nightmares. Divided by their High Lord to remain separate is safe, and boring.

But a mixing morals is bound to be met, the Heir of Night is bound to meet his grey in the Court of Nightmares, a place he was raised to believe housed the worst people of his court

Content Table:

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven (coming soon)

(all characters belong to SJM, the writer of the ACOTAR series, except for Novalie, my original character)

(any images/gifs used in the series do not belong to me until stated otherwise)

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Shadowsongs

Summary: After Rhys and Feyre decide to take a trip away to the Summer Court for the night to escape the thralls of their newborn, Azriel is left caring for Nyx and finds that his greatest battle might just be getting him to sleep. I also recently rewatched the Labyrinth and forgot how much that movie slapped so the song from that is included.

As the Velaris tower clock chimed midnight, the sitting room of the River House was enveloped in the soft, ambient glow of faelight. Azriel sunk deeper into the plush, green, velvet couch, his expansive wings draped elegantly over the back of the chair, eyes heavy with exhaustion. His hand rhythmically patted the back of the squirming bundle nestled snugly against his chest. The babe, Nyx, resisted sleep with the tenacity of an Illyrian warrior, his tiny fists punching the air as if to protest the very concept of bedtime. 

The room was a playful mess, strewn with toys - dolls lay abandoned, blankets were tossed aside, and bottles had rolled under chairs. Azriel had assured Feyre and Rhys he could manage babysitting for a day and night. They desperately needed a break after months of non-stop parenting in tandem with running the Night Court, and a trip to the breezy shores of the Summer Court was the only thing keeping Feyre from collapsing into tears. Feyre had sobbed when they left, overwhelming Azriel with reminders of Nyx’s schedule and a litany of do’s and don'ts, which Azriel already knew inside and out. Her maternal instincts flared to the point where Rhys had to gentle pull her away, reassuring her that Nyx would be fine for one night, and, if anything, they should be more concerned about Azriel surviving Nyx than Nyx surviving Azriel. 

Typically, everyone shared babysitting duties throughout the week day, but with Nesta and Cassian off in the Autumn Court, Elain incapacitated by her first fae cycle, and Amren claiming she would rather cut out her own tongue than be left alone with a babe, the responsibility had fallen to Azriel. Leaving Nyx overnight for the first time might have been a tad ambitious. 

“Come on, Nyx,” he coaxed with a whisper of amusement. “You’ve got to give in at some point.” Azriel briefly considered that perhaps this was how the victims of his torture efforts may have felt when they had been kept awake for hours on end. Perhaps he should start having them babysit a fussy Illeryian babe instead of cutting off fingers. He chuckled to himself before pushing the thought away.

Yet, Nyx remained defiant, his violet eyes locked on the ceiling, deep in thought, as if unraveling the secrets of the cosmos rather than giving in to slumber. Azriel exhaled deeply, his fingers threading through his tousled black hair. After learning about Feyre’s pregnancy he had stealthily devoured every parenting book Feyre had purchased, to the perfect formula-to-water ratio, optimal bath temperatures, and baby sensory activities, he had learned it all. When Feyre faced challenges with breastfeeding, Azriel had accidentally revealed his clandestine studies by suggesting a particular latching technique. Cassian had teased him relentlessly since. Despite employing every baby battle strategy known to him, Nyx was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, Azriel sank even further into the plush cushions, resigning himself to a long night. As he watched Nyx’s tiny chest rise and fall with each breath, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer stubbornness of the new babe. Azriel couldn’t tell if that was more from Feyre or Rhys, and then decided that that trait most likely came from his Auntie Nesta, whom Nyx had wrapped around his tiny, chubby fingers.

In the dimly lit room, Azriel’s gaze followed his shadows as they danced across the ceiling, capturing Nyx’s rapt attention. With a grin, he watched them twirl and twirl – they were always more playful when Nyx was around. His shadows seemed as curious about Nyx as he was about them. During gatherings at the River House, it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows to envelop Nyx, tickling him and teasing him, eliciting peals of laughter from the delighted babe as he reached out to catch them. 

Elain had said before that the shadows and Nyx reminded her when she and her sisters were young, a black barn cat would seek her out to frolic among the late summer heat. Azriel wondered what Nyx made of these ethereal companions, if they were like an animal to him, or another playmate. He also pondered whether the shadows would maintain their fascination with him as he grew older. Azriel, himself, hadn’t spent much time around children this young, and his shadows seemed to be so gentle with the babe, as though they somehow could sense his innocence and hoped he would keep it forever.

As Azriel and Nyx both kept their gaze to the ceiling, the shadows began to craft intricate shapes and forms, transforming into a mesmerizing puppet show. Nyx’s restless squirming subsided as the shadows danced across the walls, casting enchanting silhouettes that swirled and twirled in their silent ballet creating a tableau of delight.

On the ceiling, an array of animals appeared in what resembled a grand ballroom scene. Pegasus, birds, and sheep mingled before parting to reveal a single swan, its wings unfurling with ethereal grace. The swan bowed elegantly before twirling loftily above its admiring audience. Then, emerging from the gathered shadows, a sly fox approached, gracefully taking the swan’s wings in its paws and spinning it in a delicate dance. Although the room was silent, one could easily imagine the soft strains of music. Nyx reached up excitedly, prompting Azriel to adjust his hold, lifting him slightly higher for a better view.

As the dance continued above, some shadows descended the walls and playfully twirled around Nyx, their cool touch eliciting giggles from the dark-haired babe.

The shadows conjured forth visions of Nyxs’ family, distant echoes of life beyond the cozy sitting room. 

In one corner of the room, the shadows morphed into delicate snowflakes cascading down the wall. Above the floorboard, three figures raced across the scene – two winged Illyrians and one without wings. The winged males playfully lobbed snowballs at their wingless companion, who shielded his head with his hands. Suddenly, a log sprung from the ground, causing the wingless man to trip and tumble face-first into a pile of snow below. The two other males doubled over with laughter, one even dropping to his knees as the snow continued to fall. Nyx’s eyes widened with wonder, his tiny fingers reaching out to grasp the fleeting shapes. The snowball fight between his father and brothers drew excited coos and giggles from him, his laughed echoing around the room.

In the other corner, the shadows drifted into a scene of a woman standing at an easel, the woman's stomach swollen with child. The shadow woman stood before an easel, her brush moving across the canvas, she ran her hand over her stomach, glancing down towards it when a man walked in behind her, twirling her around into an embrace. The man leaned over, placing a tender kiss on the woman's stomach. Nyx babbled joyfully, his tiny feet kicking Azriel’s chest with delight, which while uncomfortable brought a smile to his face.

Across the ceiling, the shadows painted a scene of a great battle, a field of war and chaos as two winged males fight back to back against a vast army, shooting arrows and swinging swords. 

While the shadows swirled the tapestry of memories, Azriel looked only at Nyx, who giggled and babbled in delight at the unfolding scenes. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent to Azriel that while the shadows were doing their best to soothe Nyx to sleep, they had only awakened him more. It became glaringly obvious that bedtime stories wouldn’t work. 

Nyx’s giggles and coos echoed through the River House. With a sigh, Azriel gestured for the shadows to cease their dance, and the room was once again plunged into a soft, dim glow. 

“Alright, Nyx,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. “Let’s try something else.”

He drew Nyx back into his arms, cradling him close against his chest. Rising from the enveloping comfort of the couch, Azriel’s footsteps were muted against the plush rug of the sitting room as he began to meander through the house. Moonlight streamed through the towering windows, casting the ornate corridors in a serene silvery light, illuminating the walls adorned with Feyre’s vibrant paintings. 

Feyre and Rhys had both endured their share of sleepless nights, pacing the same halls with Nyx in their arms. Rhys had noted that being the babe of the Night Court it seemed all Nyx wanted to do was explore the world when the sun had set and all had gone quiet. Perhaps Nyx was more bat than babe.

Undeterred, Azriel pressed on, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he swayed in arms in a steady rhythm. But Nyx remained stubbornly awake, his eyes darting from window to window cooing loudly. As he reached the grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a faint cry echoed through the silence. Nyx stirred in his arms, his tiny fists clutching at his shirt as he let out a wail. 

Azriel attempted to shush the fussy baby who now was wailing louder for what seemed no apparent reason. Perhaps Nyx was finally fighting exhaustion as well. With a sigh, Azriel retraced his steps, as he stepped into Nyx’s nursery. 

Feyre had taken months to finally get the nursery the way she envisioned it. She had wanted Nyx’s room to encompass the entirety of Prythian as they were unsure what powers Nyx might hold. 

Each wall of the room was a canvas of vibrant colors and intricate designs including the bay window that Feyre had insisted be where Nyxs’ bassinet be. 

Painting the Spring Court wall had been a battle unto itself with Rhys and Cassian joking constantly that the wall should be burning to the ground, or that she should paint Tamlin being pursued by a dragon. Feyre had just shot them an obscene gesture and instead painted spring blossoms of pastel pinks and greens. Delicate flowers bloomed amidst emerald meadows, their petals unfurling in the warmth of the sun. Amongst the meadow was a warm pool with a waterfall cascading down a mountainside. 

Opposite, the wall of Summer blazed with the fiery hues of the sun, a tapestry of gold and crimson beamed down onto the deep blue sea, where Tarquin’s white castle glistened atop the white sandstone mountain. 

Next to it, the wall of Autumn was a symphony of earthy greens, oranges, reds, and browns. The Autumn Court forest held deep shadows which made the wheat fields protruding from them seem like shining gold. Lucien had helped Feyre paint this wall, and his awkward-looking, disproportionate deer and fawns clearly showed that. 

Beside the Autumn wall, the Winter Court lay shrouded in a blanket of icy blues and silvery whites. Snowflakes danced amidst frost kissed pines, their branches bending beneath the weight of the winter embrace. Bears and arctic foxes scampered on the piles of snow, wearing the traditional colors. Elain had insisted on giving the little foxes scarves. Azriel had reminded her they were made for that sort of weather but Elain had only glanced at him sadly before saying “But what if they get cold” before she painted tiny mittens on the bears. 

On the half of the ceiling closest to the door, Feyre had painted the Dawn and Day courts. Sunlight streamed through branches of ancient oaks as it rose from the corner of the room, and hills of rolling green with children from each court playing amongst them filled out the space. 

Over Nyxs’ crib, Feyre had painted a deep blue color of the sky with a sparkle of stars strewn across it. Rhys had enchanted the space just below the ceiling to be constantly in motion with sparkling star dust which moved in and out of constellations, with the occasional shooting star flying high above. 

As Nyx continued his tirade of shrill cries, Azriel rocked him around the room, shushing him as much as he could. As he continued to sway gently with Nyx in his arms, the baby began to quiet, his tiny body nestled into Azriels chest as his breaths steadied. With a tender smile, he began to sing, his voice a gentle melody through the darkness, like a whispered prayer. 

“I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry,” he sang, “What could I do?” 

With each note, Nyx grew more and more relaxed, his eyelids fluttering closed from the gentle cadence and rocking. 

“My baby’s love had gone and left my baby blue” he sang, his voice soft and tender, “Nobody knew.” 

Azriel watched Nyx’s tiny fingers curl against his chest, his breathing slow and steady and sleep drifted closer. 

“What kind of magic spell to use, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder or lightning,” Azriel continued to sing as he wandered carefully over to the crib. 

“Dance magic, dance magic dance, dance magic dance,” He lowered Nyx into the soft blue oasis. “Jump magic, jump, jump magic, put that baby’s spell on me, kiss my baby, make her free,” Azriel placed his palm onto Nyx’s chest and continued to rub back and forth soothingly. 

“I saw my baby,” He continued, softer, more of a whisper, “Trying hard as babe could try, what could I do?” Azriel dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the lines of the baby's face as he rested his arm on the side of the bassinet and laid his head atop it. “My baby’s fun had gone, and left my baby blue, nobody knew.” Nyx’s soft pink lips fell open slightly as his eyes finally closed and his head fell to the side. Azriel smiled and found his eyes drifting shut as well. 

Feyre found them the next morning that way. Nyx sprawled on his back, his tiny fingers wrapped around Azriels, and Azriel, a piled heap on the floor, his wings splayed on the floor behind him with his head still resting against the crib. 

Rhys walked up behind her as Feyre motioned him silently. “I guess he does sleep,” she whispered.

“Who?” Rhys chuckled, “Az or Nyx?”

Feyre turned her head to look at Rhys, “Both I guess.” 

Rhys asked Feyre if she planned to go in and wake either of them up but Feyre only shook her head, “I think they both could use a little more time.” 

With that, Feyre shut the door quietly, leaving the warrior and the babe to sleep a little longer.

[romanticatheartt]

Happy Father's day to him<3

Father of Prythian

Nyx's papa

And Feyre's daddy

🎨: ViciousJay_Art on X

[foxglovebells]

The Winter Writer

Azriel x Reader

Summary: One day Mor brings her best friend to the house of wind for game night with the inner circle. Azriel takes immediate interest, as well as Nesta, Feyre, and Gwyn when they find out she’s the author to their favorite smutty romances.

Warnings: None

Notes: My first fic! This is just the first part and there will me much more to come (😏)

****************************************************

“They’re going to love you” Mor squeals excitedly as she finishes up your makeup. “You have no idea.”

You and Mor had been best friends for centuries. You both knew absolutely everything about each other. Even after all these years you had still never met her family. Though, you weren’t very adamant on pushing it because they made you very nervous. She didn’t want them to scare you away, she had said, when you brought them up once.

You take a deep breath to gather your nerves before replying, “I don’t know Mor, I feel like I’m intruding on your inner circle.” You look up at her from where you’re sitting on the vanity in your apartment. Mor stands and looks down on you as she roles her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone could hate you, you’re like the most likable person I’ve ever met, and trust me, I’ve been alive for a long time.”

You moved to Velaris from the winter court half a century ago. Mor had said she would feel more secure knowing that her best friend was safe and not being caught up in the Amarantha drama. Having parents that had high positions in the Winter court put you too close to danger for Mor’s liking.

While you had never met the inner circle, you had heard almost everything about each one of them. Rhysand was the almighty, powerful high lord who had the biggest soft spot for everyone he loved and cared about. Feyre was kind, selfless, and had a touch for art. Cassian was an Illyrian who was cocky and funny but also gave the best hugs. Amren was a little scary and fierce, but she would always stand up and fight for her friends. Nesta was a tough shell to crack, but she still managed to be the best to talk to when you need advice. Elain was quiet but kind and nurturing. And Azriel, oh Azriel, you had never met him, but Mor always described him as silent, observant, kind, and so many more things. Was it possible to have a crush on someone you’d never met? You based a couple of your book characters on what you had heard of him. Of course, he could be completely different than what you imagined, in that case, you would be severely disappointed.

But even having heard all these things, you’ve yet to meet a single one of them, and because of this you were freaking the fuck out.

“I promise, hun.” She places her hands on either side of your face and looks straight into your eyes, “Plus, I know for a fact that the girls will like you. They have a little book club that has read every single one of your books.” A mischievous expression takes over her face.

“No way, Mor.” Your eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me they’ve read my books.” You shoot up from the vanity chair and pace through the room with your hands twirling a piece of hair to occupy yourself. “Cauldron, Mor, that would have been nice to know.”

Mor throws her head back in laughter, “They haven’t just read them darling, you’re a common talk amongst the library, you’re their favorite.” She walks up and boops you on the nose, you swat her hand away. “Nesta and Feyre are always talking about how sexy they are, I’ve even seen Amren reading one from time to time.”

“Is it too late to back out now?” You sigh in exasperation.

“Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t let you.”

You glare at her, “I know.”

“Come on, sugar plum, we gotta get going.” Before you can protest she takes your hand and winnows you out of your apartment.

***

“Do we even know if she’s real?” Cassian mutters as he nurses a glass of whiskey. “I mean, Mor said she’s lived here for nearly 50 years—and been friends with her for longer—but we’ve never met her.”

“Probably because she didn’t want your horny ass to hit on her.” Azriel buts in as Rhys lets out a laugh in agreement.

“Your not much better, brother.” Cassian shoots him an amused glare but it’s ignored as Az takes a sip from his glass.

“I can’t say I’m not curious, though.” Rhys starts, “Mor said she was trustworthy enough to know about Velaris, and that she knew her for centuries before she moved here.”

“And yet we’ve never met her and when ever she comes up Mor shuts the subject down.” Cassian replies.

It did make Azriel wonder, he could send his shadows to get information on her, but she’s coming tonight so he might as well just wait and ask her—like a normal person.

All at once the 3 brothers perked up as soon and the felt someone winnow into the house.

“Guess it’s time to finally meet the mystery girl.” Rhys says before sauntering off and going to the main living area where the girls were already there drinking wine and gossiping about the latest book by their favorite author—Y/n Y/l/n.

***

When they enter the room Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Gwyn, and Emerie are all sitting in front of the fire, drinking wine and giggling quietly.

“Where’s Nyx, darling?” Was the first thing Rhys asks as he makes his way to Feyre’s side and places a loving kiss on her cheek.

Azriel always envied their mating bond, Cassian’s too. He had waited so long to feel the love of a mate, but he would wait as long as it took. He often tried to occupy his heart with harmless relationships to fill the void that hopefully would one day be filled with his mate. But even after centuries of waiting he had yet to even suspect someone. It made him insecure sometimes, how could anyone love someone as scared and broken as him? So to refrain from thinking these thoughts he buried himself into other activities, spying, reading, training. Anything that could take his mind off of the restless thoughts that invaded his brain.

“He ran off to greet Mor.” She replied while leaning into his kiss.

All the males looked slightly of put as they recalled the new unknown guest around around Nyx. Rhys stood straight and was about to go seek them out when they heard the sound of footsteps making their way towards them from the hall.

They all stood and watched as Mor entered the room followed by someone who was still out of view behind Mor.

Mor moved to the side and revealed the most beautiful female Azriel had even seen in his life. You were wearing a silky slip style dress in a deep midnight blue, it contrasted beautifully to the long white waves cascading down to your waist. Winter court, Azriel thought. What caught his attention the most was the small Illyrian at your side with his hand in yours.

“Daddy I found a girl!” Nyx shouts as he tries to drag you towards his father.

You have a small nervous smile on your face and you allow yourself to be dragged towards Rhysand.

“Nyx!” Feyre shoots up from her seat on the chaise and rushes over to snatch up Nyx, releasing your hand in the process. “I’m so sorry.” She says turning to you.

Mor makes her way back up to your side and you look over to her for reassurance. She nods at you and you look back to Feyre with a sweet smile. “That’s all right, nothing to be sorry about” you reply. “I’m Y/n, you must be Feyre.” Rhysand takes Nyx out of his mates arms and you hold out your hand to shake hers. She shakes her head at your hand and instead wraps her arms around you in a hug. You freeze slightly in surprise but quickly relax and return the hug.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Y/n. Mor is awfully protective.” Feyre sends a playful glare to your best friend and she returns it with a sheepish smile. You simply laugh at the exchange.

Mor takes your arm and walks you to the seating area and you take a seat on an armchair close to the fire.

“Y/n,” Mor starts, “This is Nesta, Elain, Gwyn, Emerie and you’ve already met Feyre.” She takes her time pointing to each female around the room. Gwyn and Nesta are sat beside each other on a two seater lounge while Elain sits on the arm chair across from you. Mor walks over to Emerie and lays a hand on her shoulder. You try to hide your smirk behind your hand as you glance between the two of them. The look she gives you is a mix between shut the fuck up and she’s hot isn’t she. It became clear to you that her family doesn’t know about her sexually orientation, that became more clear when you caught the confusion in the eyes of a couple of the others.

“Anyway,” she claps her hands together and walks back to where Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel were standing. “This is Rhysand—“

“Call me Rhys, please, any friend of Mor’s is a friends of mine.” You smile at him before Mor continues.

“Then my most favorite nephew, Nyx, whom you’ve already met.” She walks up and pinched the little boys cheeks, who squirms in his dads arms, resulting in him putting Nyx down. Nyx does something no one expects—especially not you—when he runs up to you, climbs onto your chair, and settles into your lap as if nothing was wrong in the world. Every one stares in shock while you just let it has happen, chuckling slightly.

Azriel watches you along with everyone else, but the thought churning in his mind aren’t ones that revolve around Nyx, no, the only thing he can think about is how, beautiful and sweet you are, he might not be able to forgive Mor for keeping you from him. Of course, not literally, but he had never felt to drawn to someone, especially not someone he had never met in his life.

“Sorry.” You say with a small laugh. “Is he normally this friendly?” You look up to see Feyre snickering and Rhys shaking his head in amusement. Mor just looks as if she’s having a proud mother moment.

“Not usually, but he doesn’t meet new people often.” Rhys supplies. “But if he’s bothering you feel free to tell us, we won’t be offended.”

“Oh no, he’s perfect.” You look to the little boy in your lap who’s the split image of his father. His big violet eyes are looking up at you as you smile down at him.

You remember that you hadn’t been introduced to everyone yet. “And I’m guessing these two are Cassian and Azriel.” You gesture to each of them.

Cassian beamed at you, “The one and only, nice to meet you Y/n.”

“You too, Cassian.”

Azriel kept silent but he gave you a forced tight lipped smile, that made your stomach drop a little. He didn’t like you, you concluded.

You looked over to Mor who noticed the interaction and noticed that slightly devastated look on your face. She was quick to change the subject.

“Nice going, asshole.” Cassian says to Azriel out of your ear shot, “She thinks you hate her.”

“What?” Azriel heart sinks, “Why would she think that?” He could never hate you, he knew it the minute he saw you. He wanted to talk to you but he didn’t know what to say.

“You gave her the same obviously fake smile that you give every female that any of us try to set you up with.” Cassian sends him a looks that screams could you be any more oblivious, “Didn’t you see her smile drop slightly and her look to Mor for reassurance?”

No, he did not, and now he feels like a dick. “I didn’t mean too.” He replies solemnly.

“Y/n’s from the winter court. We became friends the first time a visited when I was a child.” Mor smiled at you cheekily before continuing, “I wanted her to move here a few decades ago—“

“—because you’re like an overprotective mother hen.” You cut her off with a laugh but she shushes you playfully.

“No,” she asserts firmly with a glare in your direction, “Well, yes I guess a little.” The group around you laughs.

“If she’s lived here for decades why have we never met her?” Cassian asks and Mor roles her eyes at the questions.

“Did you not hear Y/n, Cass, protective mother hen.” She gestures to herself while you along with everyone else smiles at the interaction. “She needed protecting from the like of you, all of you and your corrupt sense of humor. Now, drinks.”

“Ugh, Yes please” and other mutters of agreement are heard from all around. Rhysand snaps his fingers and wine appears atop the coffee table at the center of the seating.

Elain pours you a glass and hands it to you, you smile gratefully. Nyx has since fallen asleep on your lap, his face tucked into your neck and you run your hand over his head while paying attention to conversation around you.

“So Y/n, you want to tell everyone what you do for a living?” Mor says, bringing everyone’s attention to you once more, though, you couldn’t help but notice that one particular person attention had been on you the whole time.

You glare at Mor, a real glare this time, no playfulness in your stare. “Morrigan, what did we talk about.” You say to her while everyone listens with interest. She doesn’t reply, but instead hold your stare with a challenging look. Eventually giving up you cave. “I’m an author.”

“I expected something completely different from the way you two were looking at each other.” Nesta laughs as she finished her glass of wine.

“Me too.” Pipes Gwyn who was sitting on the lounge where Feyre had once been. Feyre was now curled up in the lap of the high lord. “Are you published.”

“Um—” you hesitate.

“Yes, she is.” Mor states simply once she’s decided that you’re taking far to long to answer such an easy question.

“Do you think we’d know any?” Gwyn asks curiously. “The girls and I are in a book club, I’m sure we’ve had to at least heard of it.”

“Oh I write under pseudonym, you probably haven’t heard of me.” You attempt to laugh it off, but Nesta and Gwyn seem keen on getting the answer out of you.

“Try us.” Nesta pushes.

“Sellyn Drake.” You say quietly with a slight embarrassed chuckle. Please tell me they haven’t read my books, please, please, ple—

“Fucking shit!” Nesta shoots up, her refilled glass of wine spilling over the lip of the glass. Every female in the room seems to sit up, even Feyre from where she was comfortably tucked into Rhysand.

“You’re kidding, right?” Gwyn shrieks with an excited smile on her face.

“You’ve heard of me?” You say sheepishly.

“Heard of you!” Nesta snaps her fingers and every single book that you’ve ever published appears directly in front of you. You reach for a book, trying not to jostle the sleeping Illyrian in your arms. Opening the book you’re surprised to see annotations on every page, highlighted words and thoughts fill each blank space.

“Um wow, I didn’t expect this.” You laugh as you flip through the pages coming across and especially spicy scene before slamming the book shut and placing it back on the pile.

“Would it be weird if I asked you to sign them?”

“Not at all, how about we meet for coffee sometime, I can even bring the manuscript for my next book, I’ve been looking for some insight on it.” You suggest, a little bit nervous that she might turn you down.

“Holy shit, of course!” She looks over to Feyre, Gwyn, and Emerie. “You know what? What do you think about coming to our next book club meeting?”

You return her excitement at that, “That sounds perfect.”

Nesta excitedly goes to Cassian and plops in his lap. His arms wrap around her waist and kisses her neck.

“You’re the smutty romance author, eh.” Cassian guesses in response to his mates excitement.

Your face burns red and you attempt to hide it by looking away. Azriel watched the exchange with a barely there smirk on his face. Ah maybe he could use that as a conversation starter, he thought. He would only have to get you alone first. He observed that you weren’t to comfortable talking about your occupation in a large group like this with new people. Though, he didn’t understand why an extremely successful author wouldn’t want to flaunt her talents.

“Y/n?” Starts Rhys. “Are you comfortable talking about your family?” He didn’t want to pry, but he was curious, something about you was just so familiar.

“Oh, of course.” You loved your family dearly and enjoyed any excuse to talk about them, especially your sister. “My sister is the lady of the winter court.”

“Viviane?” Feyre asks and you nod in response.

“Yes, we’re fraternal twins.” You smile as you think about your twin sister who was such a talented warrior.

“She’s amazing, and so is my niece, Seely, who was born 3 years ago, about the same age as Nyx actually.” You gesture to the sleeping form wrapped in your arms.

“I hadn’t realized you had such useful connections—” Rhys starts.

“—No.” Mor cuts him off before he can continue. “You are not using my best friend for a winter court alliance. You want an alliance, figure out how to get it without using her as pawn.”

Rhys looked apologetic, “She’s right, I apologize Y/n.”

“No harm done, if it’s any reassurance Kallias and Vivian are rather fond of your inner circle. I’m sure if you ever did want an alliance you wouldn’t have trouble achieving it, with or without my assistance.” You reply, you truly didn’t mind, you actually found it quite comforting that he was willing to talk politics with you, even if it was an odd situation to do so.

A new voice speaks up, surprising everyone in the room. “So you can fight?” Azriel kicks off from his place in the shadows against the wall, finally stepping into the light of the fire and taking the empty seat to your left.

“What do you mean?” You ask him to specify.

“We’ll Viviane is a highly trained warrior, and I’ve seen how well trained the winter court army is. I was wondering if you were trained similarly.”

“Yes, Viviane and I were trained by our father from the moment we could walk.” You smile in remembrance, your father was such a good teacher and was kind and gave you advice on how to improve rather than yelling. Many of your favorite memories were training beside him and your sister. “It’s been several years though, I probably a bit rusty.”

“I could always help.” He rushes out, as if he didn’t really mean to say that. He clears his throat. “I mean, if you ever wanted to train again I would be happy to be your partner.” Azriel cursed himself for not controlling his words, he hoped you wouldn’t turn him down.

“I would love that Azriel, thank you.” You smile widely at him and you look back to the group.

Feyre stands up and begins to make her way towards you. “As much fun as this has been I really need to get Nyx into his bed.”

“Of course, do you want to take him or I would be happy to walk up with you so he doesn’t wake.” You offer, cradling Nyx against your chest in preparation for her answer.

“That would be amazing, Y/n.” She smiles graciously at you. You stand from the comfy armchair and follow Feyre out of the room and through a series of hallways. She comes to a bedroom and you both go in and put Nyx to bed. “I’ve never seen him act so attached to someone new before. He really likes you.”

“I’m glad, I really like him too.” You both make your way back to the sitting room as you yawn.

“I’ve had so much fun, but I really should get going before I become too tired to winnow home.” You stay standing up instead of sitting back down. You were sure that if you sat back down you would surely fall asleep.

“Stay the night, please.” Rhys offers, “you could join us tomorrow for breakfast and training.”

“And a book club meeting, the girls and I have one in the library tomorrow.” Nesta adds while each of the girls agrees.

“I don’t know,” you start to reply “I don’t want to intrude—”

“Y/n! How many times do I have to repeat myself before you process it in you thick skull.” Mor throws her hand up, exasperated. “You. Are. Not. Intruding.”

You fidget with a strand of your snowy white hair before replying. “Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean the others do. You’re biased Mor.”

“Oh Mother.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as if you are a insulant child.

“If you fear that you are intruding I can guarantee that you are not.” Feyre tells you kindly, a much kinder approach than Mor’s.

You’re still hesitant, but you make up your mind. “Alright, I guess I’ll stay.”

Everyone looks content with your response. But it’s Nesta who’s the first to talk. “Perfect. Training starts at sunrise.”

[luardraws]

shhh, they’re sleeping... 💭

[emiliamildner]

High Lord and Lady of the Night Court and their Heir ✨

Inspired by Rhysand, Feyre and Nyx from ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas

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