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starfall-spirit · 2 years

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The Princess' Arrival

SJMNGW Prompt: Pick a Trope | Big Brother Instinct

Word Count: 665

Summary: After months of waiting, Nyx finally gets to meet his little sister. He knows the second he sees her no one is going to hurt her. He'll always be there to protect her.

AN: I write about kids, but not through kid povs, so excuse the awkwardness. You might all find this terrible, but at least the moodboard is cute.

Nyx was frightened.

Everything had happened so quickly.

Just a few hours ago he had been sat beside his mother, talking about going for a walk down the Sidra after dinner. But then she had frozen, his father and Aunt Elain winnowing into the Riverhouse a moment later. Aunt Elain took him to his room, telling him that his mother would be fine in that soothing way she had. In a few hours he would have a sibling.

“Do you think you’ll have a brother or sister?” his aunt asked.

“I don’t know. I just want everyone to be okay.”

They didn’t think he knew what happened. And they were right in him not knowing much, but the healers talked. So did his aunts and uncles at times. And Nyx had always been quiet and clever. Something dangerous happened when he was born. Aunt Nesta had helped fix it. But it haunted his family. Especially after Madja had announced that his brother or sister would have wings too.

“Can you see if she’s going to be okay?”

His aunt stiffened slightly. She had come to accept her gifts, he knew, but she didn’t love it. “It doesn’t quite work that way, Nyx. But we have no reason to believe the birth will cause any trouble for your mother.”

He nodded, feeling somewhere between wanting to press his aunt to check on his mother and wanting to discuss a different subject entirely. And he knew he shouldn’t be a bother right now. So he’d sit. He’d wait. ~~~~~ “Nyx.”

He straightened with a snort. Uncle Cassian and Aunt Nesta had come to replace Aunt Elain hours ago, as as his uncle opened the wing curled around Nyx’s small frame, he spotted his father in the doorway. “Are they okay?!”

His father smiled. “Everyone is just fine. Your mother is exhausted and sleeping now, but she’s perfectly safe.” He held out his hand.

“Are you ready to meet your sister?”

Nyx grinned. “I have a sister?” He hadn’t realized that would make him so happy. His family still told him girls were gross. But they meant girls you kiss. His little sister wouldn’t be gross. She’d be an angel. “I want to meet her! Now, now, now!”

“Alright, slow down.” Ignoring his fathers offered hand, he bolted towards the Riverhouse’s master bedroom, knowing that was where he’d find his mother and sister. “Quiet now. Remember, your mother needs to rest."

Practically bouncing on his feet, he waited for his father to unlock the door, pouting when he took him by the arm to slow his pace. “Dad,” he whined.

“Walking feet now.”

“Yes sir.”

He made his way to the side of the bed, kissing his mother’s cheek before skipping towards the small bassinet where a bundle of pink and white slept all swaddled in a blanket—just as his parents had taught him to swaddle his doll. Practice for when the baby came. Now he could help take care of her.

“I want to hold her!” he whispered loudly.

“Sit on the foot of the bed, and cradle your arms like we taught you with your doll. That’s it.”

He kept his arms as steady as he could as his father gently set his sister in the cradle he’d made. “She’s so tiny.”

“So were you. She’ll grow, though.”

“Babies grow slow. She’ll need protection.” He stroked the dark fuzz that just peeked out from under her pink hat. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know we can count on you for that.” He turned at his mother’s voice, accidentally jostling the infant he held. She began to cry. “Oh dear. Rhys.”

Nyx frowned as his father took her from his arms. Still, he scrambled to the head of the bed, sitting cross-legged to face his mother as she soothed his sister. “What’s her name, Mama?”

“Roxanna. Our little star.”

“Roxanna,” he repeated. He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’ll always keep you safe, Roxanna. I promise.”

~~~~~

Tag List: Reach out to be added or removed.

@sjmnextgenweek // @jealousveronya // @shallyne // @reverie-tales // @goddess-aelin // @the-lonelybarricade // @s-uppertime //@faeriequeensuriel // @acourtofwips // @pandavelaris

#sjmnextgenweek2023 #nyx fic #roxanna fic #feysand #feysand children #roxanna birth #day 5 #pick a trope #big brother instinct #are your teeth rotting?#mine are #acotar #fanfiction

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sushisempai · 2 years

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ACOTAR Head canons and short fic/fluff prompts I would love to see. I've been messaging with my bff about this stuff for weeks and finally am just going for it. Feel free to steal but please tag me so I can read them!!

Feysand

I want to see that one menstrual cycle they had after they started trying to get pregnant because we know it was about 9 months between ACOFAS and ACOSF and I love that Rhys had already worked out permission to be a mother hen but now there was even more pressure on it.

I would love to see more of the stuff we didn't get to see about the pregnancy because we (the readers) were with Nesta, the baby kicking, Feyre being emotional. You know Nuala and Cerridwen knew before anyone else. Did they dote? Were they sneaking her treats? What was the story with Rhys's old sweater? How did the conversation with Elain go when she figures it out?

I really want to see more of the art studio and what it was like while she was pregnant. Did the kids say things? Ask to paint her belly? What was all that like with Ressina? Does Ressina become friends with Rhys? Does Feyre go back to teaching with her baby strapped to her chest? Does Ressina help with Nyx? Do the kids? Do the families of the kids start to get comfortable around Rhys?

I feel like it’s basically canon that Rhys is bi. My Mom is bi and she likes to point out girls with nice racks to my dad just to make him, and their daughters tbh, uncomfortable but he does it back. Family inside joke lol. I totally picture this for Feysand. As Rhys is like always trying to get another male in their bed, I also can see Feyre turning this on him like “He’s nice, what about him?”

Nessian

Cassian would want all the kids and be like a *devoted* dad and despite her attitude I think Nesta would be an awesome mom. Cassian wants a huge family but Nesta will put a limit on it, so like that conversation in itself would be fun to see. I'm also thinking about how long lived they are, so Cassian will be like, "if there aren't at least 3 at a time it won't be enough chaos." Besides you know the house will be in on it. Forget childproofing.

Use this or don’t but basically my head canon is, I decided that Cassian and Nesta have the same spread of kids as the Carpenters in Dresden files. Oldest to youngest girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, girl, boy. I like this spread for them because I just love the idea of them having a big family.

Nessian Family stuff that is extra and emotional

I could also see Cassian just bringing home orphans, once they're established, like he hasn't felt competent to do so before but once he and Nesta are established he would be like "What's one more? Especially if you don't have to carry it!" "He's ready potty trained and the house will help!"

Up until now we haven't heard anything about the women who come to the library having kids. What if that is something Nesta and Cassian change?

If it helps you understand why this Nessian part went off the rails, I do trauma work with kids and teens and that has included a fair number of foster kids. So I think at a certain point this head canon got personal for me, so keep that in mind if you are like “Why does this crazy lady have so many specifics about bringing home kids.” But we also see how freaking relevent this is the Az and Cass! So I really feel this head canon.

I can completely picture Valkery training with adopted and traumatized teens, a baby strapped to Nesta's front as she teaches, a toddler on Cassian's shoulder as he teaches, Emorie tossing a kid to work her arms. Feyre and Nyx even joining sometimes.

Kids in general

I know a lot of people like the idea of Az as a Dad and I could get behind that (so please don’t blast me I enjoy those fics too!) But I can see Az being totally fine without kids. I can see him really enjoying hanging out with the madness of Cassian and Nesta's brood, or hanging with Rhys and Feyre and Nyx, and then enjoying some peace and quiet as well. Not everyone wants kids and there is no reason why he wouldn’t be an awesome and devoted uncle. I would love seeing his special relationships with all the kids.

At what age are the kids old enough to participate in the snowball fight and how does that work? I can’t imagine them telling the kids “no girls.” That is maddness. Not from our fae feminist bat boys! But especially if they all had different numbers of kids or Az didn’t have his own they would want to split everyone up and be fair! Though Az is of course super competative. I could see him calling dibs on older adopted kids or sweet talking some of Cassiens boys. He would sweet talk all the kids into being on his team, except Nyx who'd be stupid loyal. And I'm just gonna go with Cassian's daughters in specific would be always on his team because I love the idea of Cass having like 4 daddy’s girls.

Crackship Elain/Ruhn (hear me out) Cresent City crossover

There are a lot of possible ships out there that go against established mating bonds and it has been established that there is now ownership or inherent “right” to a person just because of the bond. Right?

Ok, if we're gonna undo mating bonds to troll the fandom, and the books are crossing over anyways, then my ideal crackship would be Ruhn and Elain. Have Elain come over to Cresent City to get a break from the maddness at home only to find new and different maddness!

It would be all of the precious cinnamon roll anyone can handle it any given time. They would take care of eachother, dote on eachother.

She would look at all of his tattoos and scars and talk about how beautiful they were. And he would just tell her over and over again how sexy she is without making her self conscious or objectified.

Right now she's like a toy the boys are fighting over. Ruhn would make her feel seen. And she would make him feel whole and special and valid.

Declan and Fynn would also dote on her!

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azsazz · 1 month

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Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

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“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.”

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long.

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other.

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face.

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak.

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks.

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop.

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure.

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you.

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high.

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round.

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #daddyaz #daddy!azriel #daddy azriel #bat babies #azsazz batbabies

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paperibbon · 4 months

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ink stained hand (will you hold it?)

chapter i: bookstore girls pairing: poly!feysand x reader series sum. A bookseller’s simple life turns upside down when she becomes fast companions of the Night Court’s Inner Circle. When she develops feelings for the most powerful couple in Prythian, how will she get over the golden thread of fate that pulls them ever so far apart?

The sun was high in the sky, and the sweat stuck to the back of your shirt with a vengeance, plastering the material to you like a second skin. As forgiving and endearing as summer was, children laughing in the streets, people bustling about in sheer, bright colors, the heat could be killer.

Especially waiting in lines like these.

The queue snaked around the block, everyone from fae that lived on farmland outside of Velaris, to shopkeepers, to families of all shapes and sizes. You’d thought the heat might thin it out a bit, maybe send some people to find shelter and shade, to stand in front of an icebox maybe; but alas. It was just as long as it was a few hours ago. You clutched the papers you’d written up months prior to your chest, lifting your hair from your neck in an attempt to elicit some sort of cooling effect.

You, like many, many others were grateful to your High Lord, and newly minted High Lady for these meetings. Even if not everything was fixed, most people walked out with a respect you were sure you couldn’t say other courts held for their rulers. And the papers you’d slaved over, finding just the right words to propose your idea, well, you hoped they’d hear you out, if nothing else.

Smoothing down the front of your skirts, you surveyed the people in front of you. Three bodies. Three people. Three more appointments to suffer in the heat until you were face-to-face with people who could grant your dreams, or crush them kindly in their fists. Your heart stuttered, thick, humid air winding its way through your nose, and out. Two. Then, the curly haired fae with a sour expression on her pale blue face that had stood before you for the past three hours marched into the heavy open doors, and you were twisting your fingers in flighty anticipation. You couldn’t hear her voice, even at your proximity, and it relieved something in you to know that this wouldn’t leave this room. Your sorry request, your whimsical fantasy would stay stuck in the air between your High Lady, High Lord, and you.

The guard positioned at the gate gave you a wry smile, a rosy hue to her cheeks, the sweat slicking her orange hair to her brow. You were sure you looked similar, frazzled and sweaty, sickeningly anxious and delighted all at the same time.

“You’ll be fine.” Her voice was accented lightly, like nothing you’d ever heard before. You grew up here, in the Night Court, barely a child when Amarantha terrorized the land, now, a fully grown female with stars in her eyes.

You nodded your thanks. She simply smiled wider.

When the doors opened again and the fae from before walked out, a wind flirted across your cheeks curling in your hair. A greeting.

“First door on your left. Can’t miss it.” A smooth wink, and the door thumped shut behind you.

The marble tiling was smooth, dark, and flecked with silver. How Night Court. You couldn’t stop your head from swiveling as you traversed the hall, ornate art hung on either side, a show of wealth, of power. You recognized some of the scenes, the High Lady fearlessly facing off against Hybern’s forces at the Rainbow, the Night Court’s general sweeping low onto the battlefield, the Lady’s sister, fearsome, cloaked in silver flames like a phoenix. Your eyes shifted towards the open doorway, thick wooden carvings of an animal you couldn’t place, scales expertly carved, fangs and talons almost as sharp as you’d imagine the creature carried in real life. Absently, your hand curled around a claw jutting from the frame, the stable wood almost warm beneath your fingers.

“Admiring the woodworking?” A soft voice cut through the silence, and you turned, abruptly, eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry.” You stuttered, the words falling out without a thought. The High Lady was standing, a stunning lilac dress tailored to her form, golden and silver stars stitched delicately in sporadic patterns. A golden circlet, plain, yet stately sat at her raised brows, warm sea blue eyes crinkled into a smile. You balked, face pinching into an expression that could only be described as shameful, hands twisting in your old linen skirt, the drab color sticking out like a sore thumb. The High Lord was absent, the chair next to hers empty, but you felt no relief from that. The High Lady was just as imposing.

“Don’t be.” A flick of her wrist towards the chair across from them sent you into action, and you lowered yourself into the plush seat. “Would you like anything to drink or eat? How long have you been out there?”

Her voice seemed too perfect, too hypnotic for your ears. You found yourself blinking, twice, three times before you registered her question.

“I’m okay, truly.” Food would make you barf, so bad move there. From the looks of this place, any glass they’d offer you was likely three times the sum of your rent, and your shaking hands would send it shattering across the floor. “And not long, my lady.”

“Hm.” The sound was low, like the rumble of the ground beneath your feet, and your head felt inclined to dip. The High Lord was just as intimidating as you’d expected; dressed in all black, a matching circlet to his mate’s glinted in the faelight, his hands folded neatly into his pockets. “We don’t take kindly to liars.”

The expression that flickered across your face must have been comically scared, from the way the Lady’s eyes hardened to sheer ice.

“Rhys.” The lovely voice, the bells you would follow to the ends of the earth, possibly, shot out like a crop.

The High Lord leveled you with a look that would have sent males twice your age running for the hills, and you thought about it. You considered hiking your skirts up, tucking your pitiful tail between your legs, and dashing out of here as fast as your legs could carry you. Instead, you smoothed out the papers in your hands, lowered your gaze, and began to read from the page.

“Thank you for your audience.” You began, eyes tracking your scribbling. “I wanted to first extend my gratitude for not only this moment, but the neverending support that you both have shown your people. I thank you for that.” A glance up, and your eyes connected with the starflecked violet gaze of your High Lord. Something in your gut twisted violently at his lowered brow, and your hand passed briefly over where your heart titered in your chest. “I here to ask for something that may be small to you, but is quite big to me.”

The rest of the words bleed together on the page in front of you, and with a sigh, you fold the paper along the edges, and cover the square with your palms. You know what you want, it swirls in your gut, tugs on your heart. It’s hanging from the biggest and brightest star, and this is the only chance you might have to dream for it, to hope that it might, one day, be real, might be a whisper of fruition eddying towards your open arms.

“I’ve dreamed for my whole life that one day, I might make a difference. That someday, something might make me matter to someone.” Your voice teetered on breaking. “My mother and father are long gone. I have no brothers, no sisters. I don’t have many friends to speak of, and I’m sure I speak of them more than they speak of me. What I’m asking for is stupid, but to me, it’s a dream.” A saccharine smile aimed at your twisting hands, before your head pulls back to finally look at the two most powerful people you’ve ever known. “Have you ever had stupid dreams?”

The question hangs in the air like a feather. Your fingers flex, like you might reach out and snatch it back.

“No dream is stupid.” The High Lord’s eyes blink with stars. It’s mesmerizing. It’s terrifying. His gaze doesn’t stray from you, and it spreads a heat across the tip of your nose, peaking your ears.

You pick at the edge of the paper neatly pressed to your thighs, peeling a corner back, folding it on the edge, and ripping along the seam as you swish your thoughts around in your head.

“This one might be.” Your smile is wistful, if not sad, like a flower blowing in the cold wind of winter, the laughter of a grown child.

The scrape of a chair, and your High Lady has inched ever so close to you, her knees almost touching yours, the hazy purple gauze flirting against the skin of her legs as she shifts. It makes your heart beat that much quicker, her beauty, her close proximity, the power you feel rolling off her. You’ve been caught in storms before, but she’s like lightning itself. Soft, strong hands cup yours, and you almost jerk back out of sheer surprise, but the quirk of her lips makes your own soften into a smile.

“It’s okay to wish for silly things.”

Years ago, you might have agreed with her.

Today, you aren’t so sure.

“High Lady, High Lord,” You say, eyes stuck on a freckle at the base of her thumb, tracing the lines of the jet black tattoo that curls up her wrist. “I want to find purpose.”

You could hear a pin drop.

The High Lady’s eyes glazed over, the stormy sea calming to a rolling fog. Daring a glance at the High Lord, you noticed a similar look in his eyes, the purple sky a calming shade of lilac, his eyes unfocused. You didn’t dare breathe, catching a gasp in your chest when they both finally resurfaced, a sharp snap in their gaze like you’d clicked your fingers for their attention. It was odd to have such resounding attention from two people who could crush the world around you with a blink, who could kill you without batting an eye. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, but you weren’t sure if it was terror, or great awe.

“That’s your wish?” The High Lord’s voice is startling all of a sudden, though you know it shouldn’t be. You blink, once, twice, and then nod, a simple strong shake of your head.

“That’s my wish.” You feel pitiful as you shrug your shoulders, but the High Lady squeezes your hands in hers. “I understand if you can’t grant it, I do. I greatly understand. In fact, I know you probably won’t be able to. And that’s alright with me. I’m just glad you’ve listened.” It’s lighter than the rest of your conversation, the almost laughing tone your voice takes on. You pull back from the hands on top of yours, nodding gratefully. You hope you look sincere as you lower your head in a makeshift bow. “Thank you for that. For your hearts.”

You stood, not waiting for dismissal, which might have been a stupid decision. It might have cost you more than just pure embarrassment, the flush taking on a different, less welcome heat as it cloaked your shoulders and pressed into your chest. You did a poor curtsy, out of nothing more than a sorry excuse for respect to the two, and fled the room without a glance in either direction, even as something molten, something tight in your chest tugged away at you.

You didn’t even realize in your haste, the paper you’d meticulously, ever-so-carefully tended to for the last months had toppled to the floor, scrawled with sprawling words.

Your wish.

The sun was still hot and high in the sky as you slunk into the shop, and the book you were using as a fan was doing nothing to combat the heat. Leaned against the entryway, holding the hair off the back of your neck and rapidly flapping the flimsy romance novel in your hand in hopes that even the smallest breeze would cool you down. The magic that typically kept the shop well ventilated was on the fritz, sending wayward gusts of air that ruffled through the pages on hand before stopping altogether, levitating teacups and coffee mugs in the air before dropping them and sending any liquid spilling onto the floor, opening and closing the curtains at will.

“Hi, lovely!” The seamstress across the way waved at you with a lacy handkerchief, brown hair piled high on her head, a sheen of sweat dotted across her brow and smearing the silvery make-up she’d carefully used to decorate her eyes.

“Hi, Dia.” You raised the book in greeting, letting your hair drop from your hand. She sent you a smile in greeting before escaping inside her shop, the wooden sign in her window swinging proudly from CLOSED to OPEN.

With a great sigh, you tipped your head back and listened to the busy street with shut eyes. Children squealed on the street, couples tittered back and forth. Some called your name in greeting, and you waved lazily, eyes still shut, lulled into a sense of hazy drowsiness. Your flushed cheek pressed into the door sleepily, until a wet, cold object was shoved under your collar.

Eyes flying open, the book fell to the floor, hands flinging to the back of your shirt, hopping from one foot to the next. Finally, the ice cube dropped from your dress to the floor, and you whirled on the culprit.

“Sammy!” The accused giggled, eyes slit in amused mischief. “You pest!”

Sammy was the delivery boy, and the bane of your existence. He was a child, only seventeen, with a boyish roundness to his cheeks and an inane personality that would make the sweetest person in Prythian think about bashing him on the head once or twice. It was his mission to make every day you lived harder than the last, but his mother, the owner of the neighboring bakery, thought it was because he fancied you a tad. You couldn’t tell if she was having a laugh, or had too much faith in her only child. You were much too old for him anyways.

“Who said I even did anything?” His blue lips pulled into a pout, his ears flicked and his red eyes widened like that of a street dog. “Mean, mean girl.”

Setting your jaw and bending down to swipe the book from the floor and make your way into the shop, you shot him a mean glare, something to make flowers wither, and little boys cry. He was standing by the back door, a sure sign that a shipment was docked, tightening the string on the front of his sleeveless tunic. Sliding behind the counter, leaving the book on the top, you moved around him to peer at what he’d delivered.

It was a small box, unusual, but not uncommon, with a dainty golden lock holding it shut. You tilted your head around the boy, trying to get a better look at the thing. It was probably a special edition for one of our wealthier clients, but you hadn’t seen any sort of order like that go through in months, hadn’t heard a whisper of what this could even be. Without thinking, you started towards it out of sheer curiosity, but Sammy stepped in front of it with a sharp toothed grin and held his hand out.

“Payment first, please.”

You rolled your eyes so hard, the planet did another spin.

“Greedy.”

Shouldering around him, you made your way to the lockbox and shook out a few gold pieces. His palm was cold and damp when you passed them over to him, and with a smirk like an alley cat, he disappeared down the alley and left you with the mysterious package.

The box was ornate and wooden, the lock glinting on the outside with the winking of the sun through the windows. Approaching it with cautious curiosity, you reached out and grasped the lock, feeling its cool metal under my fingertips. Giving it a good tug, your feet slid out from under you, sending you sprawling to the floor in an instant; the box was heavy - like it was filled with a million rocks, ten ton weights, and a heavy book. Stretching your leg out towards the thing, you nudged it with the tip of your toe, hoping for some kind of movement but, alas - nothing. Abandoning caution, your leg reeled back and kicked the thing as hard as you could, only to be met with searing pain that reverberated through the bones of your shin. With a resigned huff, you stood, brushing off dust from your skirt, and left it behind the counter with another, less fierce, more defiant kick for good measure.

Stupid thing.

The box seemed to respond, the smallest of noises —the faint shuffle of the lock settling into place. It wasn't laughter, of course, but in that moment, it might as well have been.

The day was sluggish and hot into the afternoon. Little to no customers stopped in, and Elias, the owner of the store, had left me alone for the morning. You did your duties; swept the aisles aimlessly, fronted all the books in the history section, wiped the counters at the tea stand. You even ventured to organize the pillows and blankets in the reading section, which was a loathsome task due to the sheer number of them littered about. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky with no promise of a cloud, Reana, the only other worker at the shop, slunk into the shop.

Her inky hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and the clothes she wore were thin and airy, a short cream top with no straps, and a loose matching skirt that showed off a fair bit of her long legs. Her tanned skin was flushed with the heat, and her glasses sat low on her nose, the chain that held them along her neck softly clinking against itself.

“I am sweating through every layer of clothing.” Her voice was scratchy, like smoke on a foggy day.

“Elias needs to re-up these stupid wards before I try myself.” Crossing the room from the little nook you’d been tidying up, you offered her a smile as a greeting.

“Oh, don’t do that to us.” She snorted. With a flick of her hand, the tea stand bustled to life. “The last time you tried, it set us back decades.”

She was exaggerating, of course. The last time you’d tried to enforce the feeble wards on the store, it’d knocked every book out of the shelves and broken almost every mug and cup in sight. Your magic was not strong, it wasn’t practiced, and it sure as the Mother wasn’t controlled.

“Can you make some cold drinks? Maybe?” You plopped yourself down on a rickety red stool, chipped and discolored from use. “Milk tea would be lovely.”

Reana works the tea and coffee portion of the shop. While you could make an adequate cup, she was versed in fancy drinks and conversation; two things you did not have the skillset for. Her head dipped as she moved towards the counter, working meticulously to pull together the things she needed. Each movement was a choreographed dance, as she deftly poured and mixed, her fingers moving with the precision of a seamstress. The glasses sitting on her nose fogged up as she leaned down to sniff the spiced pot of tea on her small stove. She set the milky drink in front of you, the icey glass heavenly against my hands as you sipped at it casually, lolling my head back and forth as you drank. As the both of you sat in silence, the ambient sounds of the bustling street outside drifted in through the open window, mingling with the soft clink of ice cubes in our glasses.

Gratefully, she doesn’t ask about the meeting you had today. Gratefully, she keeps her eyes trained on her tasks. Gratefully, you don’t have to explain anything to her.

Until…

Until the bell on the front door rings, and in steps the High Lord, the paper you’d apparently forgotten pinched between his thumb and his forefinger, the smile of a jester playing across his lips.

“Hello,” Voice like smooth, rich coffee colors the air. “I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #feysand x reader #poly!feysand #theis writes!#ahaha after ten million bajillion years. and is it even good? IDK! have it!

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knoxic · 2 months

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How to be a High Lady? part 2

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader

Summary: Reader's first meeting as a HL, Rhysand makes some comments and reader chews him out, then smut🤭

wc: 2k

warnings: Feysand slander, cursing and a shit ton of dialogue

a/n: the way there's so little of Eris here...sorry😔 but I'll make up for it if I make a part 3, with just the two of them, maybe their domestic lives and doing High Lord & Lady things in Autumn, idk maybe smut?

part 1

How they met

Their morning was slow, starting with lazy cuddles in bed followed by an easy breakfast. Her daily meditation helped gather her thoughts and feelings about the meeting ahead, when she focused on it, she could see flashes of messy handwriting and a dark room.

Dressing for the meeting took longer than she'd expected, Eris being the last one to finish so he could match her dress, it had turned into a habit now for him to combine his vest with her dresses or corsets.

After getting through her first meeting, their arrival this time was easier, not caring if people were staring at her or whispering behind her back, she knew today would be tough and her mind was set straight. They were the last ones to arrive, which was weird, she'd made sure they weren't late. The meeting started smoothly, but it didn't remain that way.

"I'm just saying, it'd be better if we cooperated..." Feyre chimed in when no one agreed with Rhysand's words. After hearing those contradictory words she couldn't not intervene.

"No offense, Feyre, but I don't think you're the best person to say that." She said, hoping that it wouldn't cause Rhysand to come for her neck yet. Feyre was stunned for a moment, clearly taken aback.

"And why is that?"

"We can't cooperate if the other part is deceitful."

"Are you calling my High Lady a liar?" Cassian roughly uttered.

"No." Her voice was steady, not showing any traces of fear, because this time she was, in fact, fearless. "I'm saying, how can we know if you're trustworthy when most of your court doesn't even trust you? How can we trust that you won't ruin our courts, like you've done before."

"Again you go speaking of my court." Rhysand growled. "You've been High Lady for a day and think you know everything. Tell me, you seem so sure of what goes beyond my wards... have you been in my court before?" Every word he spoke carried an generous amount of venom.

"No, and I have no desire to do so."

"Then how the fuck do you know so much? Are you a fucking witch or what?" His eyebrows danced showing how pissed he was, apparently not knowing everything seemed to have that effect on him.

The possibilities of what could happen depending on what she responded were running through her head, her first response would be to deny but if she did and they figured it out, which they probably would eventually, she'd be a treacherous witch and that was...

"Yes. I am a witch." The silence in the room was deafening, her ears were ringing, "And so far, my powers have only showed me objects in need of help, faes, humans... courts. I do what I can to help them–"

"I've lived in Night Court for centuries, I helped them, I made things better, I ruled them, you have no right to suddenly decide the way I rule my court is not enough, you don't know." Rhysand growled.

"But I do," her words were firm, matching his tone, "They're not my people and its not my court, but they need someone to care for them, most people in Hewn City have never seen the sky above their heads because they're trapped under a fucking mountain. Have it ever occurred to you that there may be innocent people living there? Children, like your son–"

"Watch it–" Azriel spat. She changed courses.

"Have it occurred to you that maybe they despise you because you never showed them empathy? Instead of trying to gain their approval by providing you could be a good High Lord, you locked them up." She never faltered, every word was spoken loud and clear.

Night's High Lord was fuming, if yesterday she thought his eyes promised death, now they were death. Sharp pain ran across the thick walls she built around her mind, as if claws had just taken a hold of her brain, causing her eyebrows to furrowed as a sharp gasp left her mouth. Thankfully, she spent years working on her mind and everything beyond, and with a strong spell to protect her body, it wouldn't be so easy for him to get through her mind.

"Rhysand!" Eris hissed, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. She needed to act before Eris attacked him, it wouldn't be pretty.

"If you wanted to see it for yourself, you could've just asked." She teased, but it was true, she would've showed him if he wanted her to. She opened her walls and launched him every memories she had of his people, every small shot her gift had shown her of them.

Rhysand's mouth twitched, his frown deepening. She wasn't sure if it was from being unable to break his way through her mind or because the image she told him about was true. Feyre's expression soured and she could imagine that they were having a mind conversation right at that moment, maybe he showed her the images too.

"That's not true" She said. Was that not enough?

"But it is."

"Certainly you've been wrong before." Rhysand uttered, his voice close to a growl.

"No. If it's shown to me, it's true." If they still didn't believe, she might as well tell them how it works, "If I see something, it's because it has happened or will happen soon, I'm able to differentiate them and when I can prevent them from happening, I do. What I showed you has already happened– has been happening for centuries."

"Have you seen things from other courts?" Tarquin's voice was hesitant, "Summer?" He eyes the other High Lords, all of them silently agreeing with his question.

"Well, yes. I saw Spring's downfall but it was too late, and–" Eris' hot hand on her arm made her look at him, searching for any traces that could show he wanted to maintain secrecy, she found none. "Autumn's genocide."

"That's why you took over..." Tamlin whispered, looking at Eris who gave a simple, almost imperceptible, nod in response.

"How long have you been seeing our court in your..."

"Memories. They're memories, from other people, from now and from the future. A couple years, at first I tried to gather information about what happened there but... it was well hidden."

"Oh–"

"Why'd you never say anything? If you were oh so worried about them." Mor sarcastically spoke. For someone who knows what is like living there, she's embarrassingly hypocritical.

"Would it have changed anything? By the time I stopped looking for them, Feyre was already here. Things changed–"

"And she became High Lady, did you not think you could have talked to her, if you're so sure I wouldn't have done anything." She should be cautious, but then, she had been playing with fire for over a century now. She was almost vibrating with the need to speak what she really thought, but her neck was at risk.

"What, little witchy lost her words? Or did your gift make an appearance?" Rhysand smirked at her. Fuck it.

"Feyre was barely fae at the time and being honest... she doesn't even have that much credibility does she?" His smirk fell, the room filled with dense darkness, hands tried to grasp at her but were pushed back by the wards she'd silently set around herself and Eris, knowing they'd come for him too. It was ancient magic, not that easy to break.

"Rhysand! Stop!" A chorus of commands for him to control himself. Eris' and Helion's power lit up the spacious room, the latter using his powers to hold and push Rhysand back, extremely bright light making the room clear again, after all, he was in his home court. In the midst of darkness, Eris had pulled her to her feet to stand behind him, their hands wrapped around the other's waist.

"If you can't control yourselves I suggest you leave, go fight somewhere else!" Helion shouted.

"Helion, I think this is a matter for our meeting, if she knows things, we should hear." Kallias spoke calmly, not trying to set any of us off, he glanced in Rhysand's direction, who was being held back by Feyre with a hand on his arm. Helion seemed to ponder Kallias words, eyeing her and Rhysand and their mates.

"Fine, behave, or I'll ban all of you."

"You can't possibly think I'll just stand and whatch her talking about my mate like that!" Rhysand spat incredulous, Feyre tapped his arm to gather his attention.

"Let's listen to what she has to say." Feyre said, looking back at her friends, trying to hold them back, Mor leaned back against Feyre's chair, where she'd been since they arrived, she'd gladly stand back and watch as Cassian and Azriel ripped Eris to pieces.

"Bullshit, obviously." Their General uttered, still staring her down until Eris blocked his view of her.

"Alright, continue..." Rhysand spoke, staring her up and down before sitting back in his chair, Cassian watched him before stepping back, Azriel still glared at her as he did the same. Clearly Rhysand had just told them to back off. "Go on. What were you saying about my High Lady?" She calmly pulled back from Eris, gently grasping his hand and pulling him so they could sit back down too, taking a deep breath before signing their 'enemies' certificate.

"Your own 'Inner Circle' doesn't respect her commands, how would she change the way a whole city runs?" Rhysand banged a hand against the arm of his chair while Feyre's mouth fell open, his growl echoing through the room before he lunged forward.

"Out, now!" Helion stood up and pointed to the door, "Now, Rhysand."

Rhysand was practically foaming when he left, snatching a hand around Feyre's waist before winnowing out, the other three following quickly after giving her nasty looks, if she didn't know them, she'd think they were cursing her. The tense atmosphere in the room was rough to bear.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice asked her. Viviane.

"Yes."

"That was really brave, badass." She smiled.

"Brave indeed, I can't tell if you're lucky or just that powerful. I don't know how you're still alive..." Thesan laughed incredulous.

"She wouldn't defy him if she didn't know she could take it." Eris smirked, squeezing her hand in reassurance. While she was bragging about her, she noticed Helion with his fingers massaging his temples.

"We can leave if you want, I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable," talking a look around the room she noticed all of them looking at her, "any of you."

"I think Rhys needed someone to throw the shit he does to his face, none of us were really able to do it, you did, and it was nice to watch." Tamlin said, amusement written all over his face.

"I agree, the Inner Circle has done and said things we don't agree, but any time we tried to mention it they'd just turn the situation over, would pretend it didn't happen that way or that it wasn't so bad. Rhysand and Feyre both need to see that they're not as good and right as they think they are, someone to humble them could be of use." Tarquin smiled lightly and gave her a wink.

"Do they really not respect her? I had seen signs of it but... they seem so close that I just brushed it off." Helion waved a hand while speaking.

"Is not that they don't respect her, I think they just don't take her seriously. I mean, compared to them she is still a child, she grew up too soon but she's still immature. I don't know why Rhysand made her a High Lady but it doesn't change the fact that, he gave her the title, she didn't know anything about being a High Lady and barely knew anything about our world. Maybe she'd make a good one if she knew what to do, but she just sits and lets her judgment be set by what Rhysand says." She seemed to have a talent to make people go quiet. After a moment of silence, everyone pondering what they just heard, Day's High Lord spoke.

"You're definitely something."

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra fanfic

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theladyofbloodshed · 21 days

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it will be interesting to see feysand as parents because sjm has 2 children which will surely leak into those self-inserts, but i do think they will still just solve anything with sex and feyre will be in leather pants thinking how sexy he is and rhys will have some weird monologue about her milk-heavy apple-like breasts and her baby-rich womb scent while the wraiths raise their son

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achaotichuman · 3 months

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Chapter 3: A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning

Welcome to the third chapter of my next generation ACOTAR fanfiction A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning: ACT 1- The Witch (Link at bottom of the post)

Protagonists:

Dahlia Fairburn, General and Heir of Spring

Aisling Sapphirus, Healer of the Hewn City

Nyx Archeron, Son of the Witch

Relationships:

Dahlia Fairburn x Aisling Sapphirus

Nyx Archeron x Tamlin Fairburn

Azriel Shadowsinger x Eris Vanserra

Nuan x Lucien Vanserra

Original Azris Child(ren) x Tarquin

Summary

Life is peaceful for Dahlia Fairburn, running with her War Band, and commanding the Spring Court armies. Since the day she could wield a sword, she's been helping her father, along with her younger brother, to restore Spring to its former glory. Trying to ignore the festering magic in her body, that threatens to consume her.

One day, all that peace is threatened to be shaken, as a certain prince of Night asks for her to join the rebellion of the Hewn City and Illyria. From beneath the great mountains, an ancient song calls for her. She meets a woman with death in her eyes, and power in her veins, who makes Dahlia's blood boil while something clicks into place between them.

This new generation of Prythian was thought to be one of peace and prosperity. But the mask of the reigning High Lords begin to crumble, as secrets older than Prythian itself are uncovered, and darkness is unleashed.

An ACOTAR next generation fanfiction

I hope y'all enjoy!!

Tags: @shi-daisy, @sonics-atelier, @sadisticdevile

@praetorqueenreyna, @mathiwrites, @skyesayshi

@futurehunt, @honeysuckle-daydreams13

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shallyne · 1 year

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I have a feeling that we might get a grown up Nyx spinoff in the future

The fact that Viviane and Kallias had a child at around the same time as Feysand and SJM saying she already knows the genders of future acotar babies? SUS

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hyacinthoideshispanica · 5 months

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A modern Feysand au where Rhys just took over his father's company and is trying to make it his own. So, he's creating new job titles, firing people who only work there because of nepotism, and in his free time, he likes buying paintings from CursebreakerArt.com to decorate and liven the building up.

Feyre is a struggling artist who is only able to afford rent because some random guy keeps ordering from her shop and she's not complaining, but he's bought so many, and who needs that many paintings?

One day, after mailing the latest orders out, Feyre decides to walk around the city and eventually notices the help wanted flyers for Velaris Co. everywhere she looks. She's curious. She's heard of this company before, and apparently, the ceo is an absolute prick, but the pay and benefits are supposed to be fantastic. So, she takes a flyer, and after a few days of no new orders, schedules an interview.

Rhys goes through the list of the days scheduled interviews. Normally, a ceo would be too busy to conduct interviews on their own, but he wants to show he's different from his father, and he wants to know every employee as a friend, not just someone who works for him. He scans through the list, and one name suddenly catches his attention. Feyre Archeron. He knows that name. He's seen that name elegantly signed on almost every painting on this floor and has seen it scribbled on a little thank you note that comes with each order. Feyre Archeron, creator of CursebreakerArt.com, is interviewing at his company that afternoon.

Feyre walks into the interview room slowly, suddenly self-conscious about her paint stained sweater and leggings. This place was really nice and really professional. She was way in over her head to even think of trying this! She should have washed the paint out from under her nails! She should have worn a pencil skirt and blouse!

Feyre's thoughts are cut short when Rhys enters the room and then suddenly stops. Then, their just staring at each other in silence. Feyre thinks Rhys is not only the handsomest man she's ever seen but that he must also be appalled by her appearance and it was definitely a mistake to come here.

Rhys, on the other hand, was 100% prepared to gush about how much he loves her work, that is, until the moment he actually saw her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had not been ready for that at all.

Feyre gets up, starting to apologize for wasting his time, saying she'll see herself out, but Rhys stops her with only two words. "You're perfect."

Feyre blushes fiercely, then Rhys clears his throat and begins talking to cover up what he just said.

"For the job. You're perfect for the job. You see, a lot of my employees have young children who spend the day in our care center or go there after school. I was hoping to hire some new employees, people who are passionate about something like art, cooking, or music to come in to spend time with the children during the day and teach them."

"I see... and you think I'm perfect for that job from just one look at me? Without even looking at my portfolio?"

"Ms. Archeron, off all the interviews I've conducted today, you have been the only one to dress appropriately for children and not an office. You're covered in paint, so you're clearly passionate, and I already have most of your portfolio hanging in my office or in the hallways."

#acotar #feysand au prompt #modern feysand au #rhys and feyre #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand

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starfall-spirit · 2 years

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Nyx's First Flight

Feysand Month Prompt: With the children

Summary: Mama Bear Feyre worries over her son's flight training.

It's only a little water, Feyre darling.

I scowled at that lilt of amusement in my mate's mental voice. He, Cassian, and Azriel were taking Nyx for his first flight lesson and, like any mother, I wanted to be there to witness it.

Unlike other mothers of Illyrians, I was a little paranoid about how my eight-year-old would take to flying. After all, I was going through those same lessons a decade ago and did a few trees around here some serious damage. At least the ones that didn't do me damage.

Still, my hope of keeping my child's brain intact seemed to be a crime, or at least a strike to the pride of the males around me. Breaking my promise of not interfering, I had dove after Nyx as he took his first plunge towards the massive lake below.

The three adults had banished me from the airspace.

So here I was, leaning against a tree and watching my four favorite boys talk technique at the edge of the cliff. Cassian was taking the lead at the moment, red siphons burning with the glint of the sun as he made exaggerated movements to teach Nyx how judge wind resistance and adjust his wings.

Rhys-completely unworried compared to me-looked over his shoulder with a smirk. He's doing just fine, Feyre. Trust me.

I do trust you, Rhys. However, I also know what it feels like to hit water and tree trunks from this height and speed. If you break our only child with your brute methods-

Feyre. Stop worrying. Children are invincible until someone reminds them otherwise. None of us have told Nyx otherwise, as far as I know.

I gave no response.

He let out a sigh and I knew neither of his brothers missed it's meaning, especially as Az's eyes flicked back towards me. The shadowsinger shook his head as I stuck my tongue out. Mumbling something to Nyx between Cassian's pointers, my mate came to stand behind me, his strong arms tugging me back against his chest.

"Training as young as possible, before the fear sets in-"

"I know, Rhys. I know I shouldn't be this worried. I know you and your brothers learned over solid ground. I just... Blame it on my human heart, okay?"

"I happen to be quite fond of that human heart. One of my many favorite parts of you, in fact."

"How many are there, again?"

He chuckled, running his nose down the right side of my neck. "Well, darling, I could list them all here and now."

"Or?" I asked, already feeling the answer dance down our bond.

"Or we could leave my brothers to teach Nyx while I take the time to show you properly. Privately." He nipped my earlobe. "Repeatedly."

The response lingering on my tongue was silenced by whistles of different pitches. The sound filled the air and my attention snapped back to the grinning shadowsinger and general. "Look at that, Rhys! Perfect banking!" Cassian whooped again, chuckling as Nyx came back around to the cliff's edge, stumbling as he hooked a foot on the rock. "Watch your height, kid."

"I did it, Uncle Cass!"

"I know, I watched every second. We'll make an Illyrian out of you yet, Nyx."

He called to me next and I grinned ear to ear, stepping out of his fathers arms to hold him close. "You're still all wet!" A draft of wind I controlled had us dry in second. "I'm proud of you, Nyx. Even if your father and uncles won't let me help."

His grin held as he dropped his hand to my belly. "If I can fly well does that mean I can teach the baby one day?"

I laughed. Indeed, Madja had told us yesterday that Rhys and I could expect a second winged babe in the coming winter. Thankfully the delivery should be far less complicated this time around. "Yes, Nyx. I think that will definitely be in the cards for you. What do you say about getting some food in you now?"

#December 8 #feysand #feysandmonth #feysand fic #oneshot #fluff #nyx acotar #rhysand #feyre #azriel shadowsinger #cassian acotar #feyre remembers high-fiving that tree with her face and decided to tag along #acotar #with the children

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