Instead, the bond between you and Rhysand had apparently decided that privacy was optional.
Which was how you ended up sitting in the library of the House of Wind pretending to read while trying very hard not to think about the male currently across the room.
Rhys lounged in a chair near the window, one arm resting lazily over the back as sunlight caught in his dark hair.
He looked much better today.
Stronger.
Unfortunately that made things worse.
You forced your eyes back to your book.
Do not look at him.
Rhys’s voice drifted lazily across the room.
“You’re staring again.”
“I am reading.”
“You turned that page ten minutes ago.”
Your jaw tightened.
Across the table Cassian grinned like a menace.
“This is the most entertainment I’ve had in months.”
“Go train,” you muttered.
“No.”
Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement as he watched you over the rim of his glass.
The bond between you hummed quietly.
Stable.
Calm.
Manageable.
Which meant your guard slipped.
Just for a second.
Your gaze flicked up again.
His shirt collar was slightly open today.
You could see the faint curve of muscle beneath the fabric.
Your brain betrayed you instantly.
Gods… his hands would be dangerous.
Rhys choked on his drink.
Cassian slammed his hands on the table.
“I KNEW IT!”
Your entire body froze.
Slowly… painfully… you lifted your eyes.
Rhys was staring at you.
Wide-eyed.
“Did you just—”
“No.”
“Yes you did.”
Your face went nuclear.
“I did not.”
His voice slipped directly into your mind.
You absolutely did.
You buried your face in your hands.
This is the worst bond in history.
Rhys’s laughter echoed softly in your head.
Oh I don’t know… I’m finding it very educational.
Cassian leaned back in his chair, delighted.
“What did she think this time?”
Rhys pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to smile.
“Nothing appropriate.”
That made it worse.
Your brain immediately supplied another thought.
Stop smiling like that. It makes it worse.
Rhys’s shoulders shook slightly.
Cassian pointed between the two of you.
“She’s doing it again, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Rhys said.
You groaned.
“I’m leaving.”
You stood abruptly.
Bad move.
The bond tugged the moment you stepped away.
Not painful.
Just insistent.
Rhys noticed immediately.
“Stay.”
The word came out softer this time.
You hesitated.
Rhys leaned forward slightly, violet eyes locked on yours.
“Or you could keep thinking about my hands.”
Cassian nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
Your brain short-circuited.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
The bond pulsed warmly.
Rhys tilted his head.
You don’t hate me.
Your mind betrayed you again.
…especially not when he looks at me like that.
Rhys went very still.
The amusement faded from his expression.
Something deeper replaced it.
Cassian squinted.
“Oh wait… that one was different.”
You pointed at him.
“Stop listening!”
Rhys stood slowly despite still recovering, crossing the room toward you.
Each step made the bond hum stronger.
Your heart started racing.
He stopped only inches away.
“Your thoughts get louder when you panic,” he murmured.
Your voice came out weak.
“That seems like a design flaw.”
Rhys’s mouth curved slightly.
“Or a feature.”
Your mind immediately went somewhere unhelpful.
Gods, that smile—
Rhys groaned quietly and dragged a hand down his face.
Cassian burst into laughter again.
“This bond is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Rhys shot him a glare.
“Leave.”
Cassian stood, still laughing.
“Oh gladly. This is clearly about to get embarrassing.”
He disappeared out the door.
The room went quiet.
Rhys looked back at you.
Still close.
Too close.
“You should probably stop thinking about me,” he said.
Your brain instantly responded.
That would be easier if you stopped standing so close.
Rhys’s eyes darkened slightly.
“Well,” he said softly.
“This bond is going to be very honest with us.”
And judging by the warmth flooding through the bond now…
It had no intention of letting either of you hide.
The first time Charles pulls away, it’s so subtle you almost convince yourself you imagined it.
Your hand finds his in the paddock, fingers slipping between his like they always do, like second nature—and for a second, he squeezes back. But then his grip loosens. Not completely. Just enough.
Just enough for doubt to creep in.
You try not to think about it.
He’s busy. It’s a race weekend. There are cameras everywhere, team members walking past, engineers calling his name. You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just distracted.
Still, you let go first.
—
It doesn’t stop there.
It’s the way he leans away when you rest your head on his shoulder later, under the Ferrari motorhome awning. The way his responses to your texts get shorter. The way he sighs—quiet, almost under his breath—when you ask, “Will I see you after?”
You start overthinking everything.
Maybe you are too much.
Maybe the way you always want to be near him—touching his arm, hugging him from behind, sneaking kisses when no one’s looking—is… suffocating.
You hadn’t meant it to be.
You just love him.
—
The comment comes out one evening in Monaco, in his apartment, with the city lights glowing through the windows.
You’re curled up next to him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap while he scrolls through something on his phone. It’s quiet. Comfortable. Or at least, it used to feel that way.
You shift closer, resting your head against his shoulder.
“Charles,” you murmur, half-asleep, “you’ve barely looked at me all day.”
There’s a pause.
Then he exhales—sharp this time.
“Can you not do this tonight?”
Your chest tightens. “Do what?”
“This,” he gestures vaguely, finally looking at you. “Always needing attention. Always… on me.”
It hits harder than you expect.
You sit up slowly. “I’m just… being with you.”
“I know, but it’s—” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “It’s a lot sometimes, okay? It feels like you’re always there. Always touching me, always asking for time, for reassurance…”
His voice softens slightly, but the damage is already done.
“It’s clingy.”
The word lands like a slap.
—
You go very still.
Clingy.
You repeat it in your head, tasting how ugly it feels now that it’s attached to you.
“Oh,” you say quietly.
Charles immediately looks like he regrets it. You can see it in the way his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” you cut in quickly, even though it’s not. “I didn’t realize I was… bothering you.”
“You’re not bothering me,” he says, softer now. “I just—sometimes I need space.”
You nod, even though your throat feels tight.
“Okay.”
—
Things change after that.
You make sure of it.
No more reaching for his hand first.
No more spontaneous hugs or kisses.
You stop texting him good morning every day. Stop asking if he’s eaten. Stop showing up unannounced just because you miss him.
You give him space.
So much space it starts to feel like a void.
—
At first, Charles doesn’t notice.
Or maybe he does, but he thinks this is what he wanted.
He has more time to focus. More quiet. Less distraction.
But then—
There’s no “good luck” text before qualifying.
No arms wrapping around him after a race.
No you.
—
It hits him slowly.
The absence.
The silence.
The way you stand just a little further away in the paddock now, offering him a polite smile instead of throwing yourself into his arms.
The way you hesitate before touching him—like you’re asking permission without words.
The way you don’t touch him at all.
And suddenly, it doesn’t feel like relief.
It feels… wrong.
—
“Hey,” he says one afternoon, catching your wrist gently as you start to walk past him.
You pause, looking at him with that same careful expression you’ve been wearing for days.
“Yeah?”
His grip loosens instantly—like he’s afraid to hold you too tightly now.
“You’ve been… distant.”
The irony almost makes you laugh.
“Oh,” you say softly. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
His chest tightens.
“No—I mean, I just… not like this.”
You tilt your head slightly. “Not like what?”
“Not like you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” you say, but there’s a quiet honesty in your voice that makes it hurt more. “I’m just trying not to be… clingy.”
There it is again.
That word.
Charles visibly flinches.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he admits, voice low.
“But you meant it.”
“I meant I was overwhelmed,” he corrects quickly. “Not that you are a problem.”
You don’t answer right away.
And that silence? It scares him more than anything.
—
“I miss you,” he says suddenly.
Your eyes flicker up to his.
“I’m right here.”
“No,” he shakes his head, stepping closer. “Not like before.”
There’s something raw in his voice now. Something honest.
“I miss you grabbing my hand without thinking. I miss you talking too much when I’m tired. I miss you being… you.”
Your guard wavers, just a little.
“But I thought—”
“I was wrong,” he cuts in, softer this time. “I got stressed, and I pushed it onto you. That’s not fair.”
You swallow.
“It just felt like… I was too much for you.”
His expression softens completely now.
“You’re not too much,” he says, reaching for your hand again—this time holding on. “You’re just… a lot of love. And I didn’t realize how much I needed it until it wasn’t there.”
Your fingers twitch in his, hesitant.
“You sure?” you whisper.
He nods, bringing your hand to his chest.
“I don’t want less of you,” he says. “I just need to learn how to ask for space without making you feel like you have to disappear.”
That… lands differently.
Softer.
Safer.
—
You step closer.
Slowly this time.
Giving him the chance to pull away.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls you in first—arms wrapping around you tightly, like he’s been holding back for days.
You melt into him before you can stop yourself.
“Missed you,” you mumble against his chest.
He presses a kiss to your hair.
“Don’t stop being clingy,” he murmurs.
A small smile tugs at your lips.
“Careful,” you whisper. “You might regret saying that.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, tightening his hold.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “But I think I’ll survive.”
The night in the Night Court was quieter than usual.
Velaris glittered below the balcony like scattered stars, the Sidra River reflecting silver moonlight. Normally the view calmed you. Tonight it only made the emptiness feel larger.
Because Rhysand wasn’t there.
You leaned against the stone railing, fingers curled tightly around the cool marble. The wind tugged softly at your hair, whispering through the city like it knew secrets you didn’t.
Three days.
Three days since he’d left without a word.
Not unusual for a High Lord. Rhys had responsibilities, missions, endless politics between courts. But he always told you before he left. Always brushed a kiss to your temple, always promised to come back.
This time he hadn’t.
A faint ripple brushed the edges of your mind.
The bond.
Weak. Distant. Painfully quiet.
You closed your eyes.
“Stop worrying,” you muttered to yourself. “He’s fine.”
But the bond didn’t lie. Something was wrong.
Footsteps sounded behind you.
You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Cassian sent me,” Azriel said quietly.
You sighed. “Of course he did.”
The spymaster leaned against the balcony doorframe, shadows shifting around his wings like living things. His hazel eyes studied you too carefully.
“You haven’t slept.”
“Observant,” you replied dryly.
“He’s alive.”
Your head snapped toward him.
Azriel lifted a hand before you could speak. “Barely.”
Your stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“A meeting with the Autumn Court went badly,” he said. “Rhys shielded the rest of us. Took the worst of it.”
Cold fear slid down your spine.
“Where is he?”
“In the House of Wind. Madja’s with him.”
You were already moving before he finished speaking.
—
The corridors of the House blurred as you ran.
Your heart pounded so loudly you barely heard the door open as you pushed into the room.
Rhysand lay on the bed.
Still.
Too still.
The sight of him knocked the breath from your lungs.
His dark hair spilled across the pillow, skin pale against the black sheets. Bruises shadowed his throat and ribs. Magic flickered weakly around him, like dying starlight.
Madja looked up from his side.
“You shouldn’t be here yet,” she said gently.
But you were already crossing the room.
“Rhys,” you whispered.
No response.
The bond pulsed faintly—pain, exhaustion, and something deeper.
Regret.
Your chest tightened.
“You stubborn, arrogant male,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You nearly died and didn’t think to tell me?”
His breathing stuttered slightly beneath your hand.
Madja’s eyes flickered between you and him.
“Talk to him,” she said softly. “Sometimes they listen.”
When she slipped from the room, silence fell heavy around you.
You sank into the chair beside the bed.
“Everyone thinks you’re invincible,” you said quietly. “The most powerful High Lord in history.”
Your voice wavered.
“But I know better.”
Your fingers found his hand beneath the blankets. Warm. Thank the Mother, warm.
“You’re reckless. Infuriating. And you carry the weight of this entire court like it’s yours alone.”
Your throat burned.
“You didn’t even say goodbye.”
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint squeeze.
Your breath caught.
His violet eyes slowly opened.
Even injured, they were devastating.
“Hello,” Rhys rasped.
Anger and relief collided inside your chest.
“You absolute idiot.”
A weak smile touched his lips.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them.
“You scared me,” you whispered.
His gaze softened instantly.
“I know.”
His thumb brushed your knuckles, slow and careful.
“I didn’t want you involved,” he murmured.
“That’s not your choice,” you said fiercely. “Not anymore.”
The bond between you flared slightly, warmer now.
Rhys studied you for a long moment, something raw flickering across his face.
“I thought…” he began, voice rough, “if something happened to me… it would be easier if you hated me for leaving.”
Your heart cracked.
“You don’t get to decide how I grieve you,” you said softly.
Silence filled the space between you.
Then Rhys shifted painfully, pulling your hand to his chest.
His heartbeat thudded slowly beneath your palm.
“But you stayed,” he whispered.
You leaned forward until your forehead touched his.
“Of course I did.”
His eyes closed, relief washing through the bond like warm starlight.
For the first time in days, the emptiness eased.
And though the night was still heavy with pain and unspoken fears, one truth settled quietly between you:
Summary: Whitaker learns about you and Jack in an unexpected post-shift ritual.
warnings: language, slightly suggestive at the very end, jack the loyal man, mentions of cheating (not Jack), grammatical error, no beta read.
author's note: a blurb that turned into a fic wow
“Are you sure i’m not intruding your ritual?” Whitaker said to you, sitting beside Jack across from Robby, who sits beside you. Albeit the tiredness seeping into his bones, he’s still slightly intimidated that you offered him to join you for your usual post-shift dinner, and now sitting in a booth with three attending, he can feel the silence stabbing at him.
You huffed at him, leaning your head slightly to rest Robby’s shoulder, “please, this guy thinks he’s going crazy if he thirdwheel again, so trust me, you’re not intruding anything.” you can feel Robby’s chuckles, his hand pushing your head slightly from his shoulder.
“You’re heavy.” you mock hurt from his statement, shoving his shoulder away. You faced Jack, “did you hear what your boyfriend said to your wife, Jack?” you said dramatically.
Whitaker, as if being reminded that you are indeed married with the attending beside him, suddenly sat up straighter, “oh shit. I mean- I’m sorry, but do you wanna switch places with me? I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking and just sat down beside dr. Abbot,”
You chuckled at him, stopping his rant before he actually stand up “nah, don’t worry about it,” he nodded at you, shoulder slumping down.
“He doesn’t bite. Don’t worry.” Robby quipped beside you, making you laugh. Before Jack can retort something at his friend, the waitress approach your table with four coffee, putting one in front of you each. After you list off the usual for the three of you, you looked over at Whitaker expectantly, waiting for him to mention his order.
He shakes his head, “i’m good with coffee, i’m gonna cook later.” Jack, sensing that he thinks he’s going to pay for himself cuts Whitaker off, “never decline free food, kid.” Whitaker looked between you and Jack, you nodded at him, encouraging him to order for himself. “Uh, i’ll have the burger too, please.” he said to the waitress who nods and walked away with your orders.
“Thank you, really, you guys don’t have to,” Whitaker said to no one in particular, Robby chuckles, “just don’t go listening to Myrna’s whims again” Whitaker winced, being reminded of his earlier encounter with her.
“She asked about you again, you know,” you nudged Jack’s leg with yours, Jack grumbled lifting his coffee to his lips to take a sip. “Asked me if i’m already fed up with you or not,”
“Have you?” Jack said, smirking at you. You pretend to ponder before nudging his leg once again, “I said if I am indeed fed up with you, Robby got dibs on you,”
“Spending my life with him sound hellish, actually,” Robby said, leaning back. Jack points at him, “mind you, i’m heavenly to live with.”
“Yeah, right” Jack looked at you narrowly, no malice whatsoever behind it. “You literally almost cried missing me when I went to that talk with him, saying that you hated him ‘cause he got to spent the weekend off with me,” his chin jutted towards the man beside you.
“Trust me, the text you sent me was pure hatred,” Robby added. You shoved his shoulder away again, “you suck.” followed by a laugh from him.
“Dr. Abbot, can I ask you something?” whitaker speaks up, earning a questioned look from both you and Jack, “i mean the female dr. Abbot, sorry,”
You want to emphatize with the way he’s still so scared of the three of you, if only you didn’t find the way he said that was almost comical, but you give him a look to tell him to continue.
“How did the two of you-” he started, eyes darting between Jack and you, “-you know, get together,” Robby laughed, boisterous and loud. You catch Jack’s eyes, you wanna take this one? He shakes his head, he always understand what you wanted to say, after all.
“I like him, he likes me back, we get together, boom, seven years” you oversimplified it to Whitaker, who still looks at you mouth still slightly agape, wondering if you’re joking or not. Robby puts an arm on your shoulder, “I take full credit on this two,” you jokingly lift his hand away, but leaned your head on his shoulder “ugh. A fact i’m both regretting and thankful every damn day.”
Whitaker looked at you and Robby in silence, looking at Jack through his peripheral vision as if asking him are you okay with this? You know that look all too well, “he’s my neighbor like ages ago, we hang out like almost every day until one time this guy-” you nodded towards Jack, “- comes over all charming and I was like, yeah I don’t wanna be friends with him. Oh, and if you’re asking if he’s okay with me being like…this with Robby, trust me I can’t be friends with him if I ever find him attractive”
“Same by me,” Robby added beside you, you gasped at him, “you telling me i’m not attractive?”
“That’s what you just said about me,” he groaned, you looked at Jack “you heard that? I’m not attractive for him,” Jack smirked at you, leaning back “eh you bring that on yourself,” realizing Whitaker still hasn’t said anything, Jack asked him, “that answers your question? Or are you asking why? ‘Cause I ain’t glazing my wife in front of you if that’s what you’re asking, she’ll put it over my head later at night,” Whitaker nodded his head in silence, pulling on his coffee cup.
“Glazing?”
“What the hell is that vocab?”
You and Robby said at the same time, making Jack shrug, “what? I keep up with the kids”
You were about to retort something about his music taste when the waitress walked over to your table with your meals, and if you weren’t really hungry you might’ve just mock him anyway. A wave of thank you’s and enjoy later, the four of you are enjoying your meal in silence.
You were finishing up on the last of your fries when Robby leaned closer and half-whispered “that’s the girl who hit up on Jack last time we went here,” he said as he slightly nudged his chin towards the door, looking at the three girls entering the threshold.
“Which one?” you said excitedly, Jack never give you any reason to feel jealous at all, so when someone actually hit up on your man, it’s more of an entertainment for you. “The one with the yellow cardigan-” he called out to Jack before continuing “don’t turn around, but that’s the girl who asked for your number the other day,”
Jack and Whitaker instinctively turned around, making Robby groan, the girl in question looked over at your table, a recognition struck her face as she walked over to the four of you with confidence in her stride.
With a smile on her face, she greeted both Jack and Robby with a wave before turning her body towards Jack, “sooo….?” Jack shakes his head away, an annoyed look at his face, he raised his left hand, showing the ring on his finger. With a whispered ‘damn’ she walked back to her table.
You kicked Jack’s leg, a smile on your face, “You didn’t tell me someone hit up on you!” Jack groaned, “I told you like the moment I arrived at home?” Jack said as he caught your feet, putting in on the side of his thigh, patting a soft rhythm on it.
“No, you told me, someone asked if you’re single or not, that’s like totally different.” you looked over at Robby, silently asking him to tell the story, Robby swallowed the last of his fries before starting.
“We’re in this same booth actually, but Jack was facing the door and that girl was with a different group, she came up to us, didn’t even ask for our names, just went over to him and ask if he’s single and ask for his number in like, a single breath-”
“She didn’t ask for my number man, don’t add stuff up,” Jack cuts Robby’s story off.
“She actually asked your number, if you’re not half-dead maybe you’ll actually hear it,”
You know Jack is going to retort something so you lift your hand to tell him to wait, before turning back to Robby, still grinning in excitement, “continue,”
“You’re way too happy for someone who’s husband is getting flirted with” Jack said with a half-groan.
“Hey I’ll have you know my husband happened to be a very good-looking man with a charming air around him, even a ring on his finger is not gonna stop girls from hitting on him,” you replied without missing a beat.
Seven fucking years. Seven fucking years of being with you, and he still blush when you say things like that so off-handedly, like you’re just stating off a fact.
“Can I actually finish my story, it’s literally just one sentence left,” Robby chimes in, you pull back your attention to him, nodding.
“Okay so, like in a single breath, quite a feat really, and then this dude straight up cut her off saying ‘sorry-” sorry i’m married, yeah you know what he’s going to say, but Jack cuts him off once again.
“I didn’t say sorry, mind you.”
“-oh yeah, just straight up ‘i’m married’-” Robby nods after getting reminded, “- then she went ‘like married married or just married’”
“Yeah like that means something, so I said, ‘whatever language you’re speaking, i’m married’” Jack finishes off Robby’s story, you stare at him.
“You didn’t even say sorry?!”
“Why should I? I’m not sorry for being married to you,” he said that as if he’s practiced that words over and over again.
If earlier was his blushing moment, now was yours.
You give him a small smile, he reciprocates it by squeezing your ankle. The small almost minuscule moment between the two of you are broken off by Whitaker.
“You’re not even jealous?” he’s seen Santos almost throwing hand when someone hits on her partner the other day, so seeing the two of you like this is almost weird to him.
Robby scoffs, “this two doesn’t have a single jealous bone in their bodies,” you shrug, “he never gives me reason to be jealous, he loves me wayyyy too much” you say, your tone held a slight tease to it.
“Damn right,” jack mutters.
“Beside, he has like zero game, I seriously am the one who asked him out while he sulked,” he gives you leg a slight pinch, not enough to even hurt you, just enough to tell you hey without even saying it out loud.
Robby stands up, stretch a little, “well, i need to pee, it’s my turn to pay too” he asked the two of you. Whitaker stands up suddenly, “uh, thank you, again, but I also need to-” the last part wasn’t heard as he sped up to run to the restroom.
“Thanks man,” you and Jack said at the same time, as Robby walks away to pay.
“Just when you think we couldn’t be more married, we do shit like that,”
“I’ll gladly be even more married to you-” now that it’s just the two of you, he’ll gladly be as sappy as he wanted to be. “-You meant what you said?”
“The part where you have zero game? Or the part where you love me too much?” you give him a smirk, he groaned.
“I do. I trust you with my life, y’know. I mean yeah sure you can have someone prettier than me, and maybe better than me, but one that can stand your ass? That’s just me, hon”
“Two wrong does make a right, and i do love you, wayyyy too much” he said the last part mimicking your tone from earlier. You nudged his thigh before dropping it down to exit the booth.
“I’m not gonna kiss you if that’s what you want,” you said to him, now standing in front of the diner.
“Damn, romance is dead.” Jack gives you his trademark smirk, one that makes you fall head over heels for him all those years ago.
You stand on your tiptoes, putting your lips beside his ear, whispering “if I kiss you now i’m just gonna taste the fries and i want to taste you when I kiss you,”
Jack puts an arm around your waist, holding you close. “Rude. we’re waiting for Robby and Whitaker and you decide to play foul.”
You put your arms around him, snuggling closer, “i’m just stating the fact,”
“We-”
As if on cue, Robby exits through the door, Whitaker following behind him, he sighs looking at the two of you, “Whitaker’s place on my way, see you two lovebirds tomorrow,” Jack nods at him.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you said giving him a wave, watching both him and Whitaker’s back moving away from the both of you.
You turned your head at Jack’s, “you were saying?”
He leads you to start walking with a hand on the small of your back, “we still have a five minute walk, i’m seriously expecting that kiss,-” he leans even closer to whisper, “-also, do you know how hard it is to walk with a hard-on?”
You laughed as you shove him in his stomach, he smiled at the way you laugh at him, oh the things he’d do to see you like this over and over again.
Seven fucking years and not even for a second the love ever dims.
