#daddy rhys

[thehighladywrites]

Interview me

pairing: ceo!rhysand x secretary bimbo!reader

summary: life is hard and you need a job to stay alive. naturally, you apply at a simple job at a company you know nothing about. Well, except for the fact that your boss is a smokeshow.

warnings: swearing

amara’s note: i’m so fucking hyped for this series guysss i have so many ideas hihihihihihihi

explore azriel’s bimboverse !

explore cassian’s bimboverse !

“Shit, shit, shit—I’m soooo not gonna make it!”

Your heels clacked dramatically against the glossy, stupidly expensive floors of an even more expensive skyscraper. Ugh, why did life have to be so unfair? You were made for luxury, not working, but apparently, rent and shopping sprees didn’t pay for themselves. So, you had reluctantly applied for a simple, cute little job—being the personal secretary for some CEO.

You sprinted toward the elevator, practically flinging yourself inside just as the doors were about to close.

“No—wait! Please hold it!”

A man’s hand shot out, stopping the doors. You stumbled in, panting, before beaming up at him.

“You’re very nice! Thank you, mister!”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes slowly dragged down your body, lingering on your barely-buttoned white blouse and tight little skirt that hugged every curve.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with something you were too busy fixing your hair to pick up on. “You work here?”

“Oh, um, not yet! I think I’m actually gonna get fired before I even get hired because I accidentally overslept. My alarm is sooooo weird.” You giggled, fixing a strand of hair.

He chuckled, pressing a button. “What floor?”

“The top one! I’m here to be the CEO’s secretary.”

His smirk widened, his eyes practically devouring you. “Oh yeah? Lucky guy. He’d be a damn fool not to snatch you up.”

You blinked, confused. “Huh? I mean I haven’t got much experience, not sure he’s be that lucky.”

His creepy grin didn’t falter. “Yeah. Sure that’s what I meant.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out onto his floor, but not before leaning in just a little too close.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and sticky.

The second the doors shut, you frowned to yourself as you went up the floors until a ding took you out of your trance.

A slim, tall, stupidly beautiful redhead stood before you, clutching a neat stack of papers. She looked so put together—her sleek bun, her expensive-looking glasses, her perfectly ironed blouse. Ugh. She totally looked like someone who knew how to do her job.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from the sheer luxury of this office. The marble floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rich people smell. Was this really where you were going to work? Oh my god.

The redhead cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed with your gawking. “Ms. L/N? Mr. Rhysand is ready for you.”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, of course!” You smoothed down your skirt and stepped forward—business wear was so not your thing. It totally oppressed your usual style and it made you look too corporate-y.

The redhead sighed. “This way.”

You nodded, flashing her a big, dazzling smile as you followed her down the hallway.

“Mr. Rhysand is a very busy man who doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She gave you a slow, judgmental once-over before scoffing. “And maybe try dressing like a professional instead of a hooker.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh… is this too much?” You glanced down at your outfit, genuinely puzzled. “I thought it was classy. It’s Massimo Dutti.”

The redhead’s expression didn’t change. “Just don’t waste his time,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away.

Shrugging, you smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath before pushing open the office doors. Whatever. You looked cute, and that was what mattered.

You stepped into the office, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Your breath hitched as you took in the sheer luxury of the space—floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the entire wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The furniture was sleek, dark, and expensive, the kind you only saw in glossy magazines.

Rhysand stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. The late afternoon light poured in behind him, casting his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a golden glow. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, and when he finally turned to look at you, piercing eyes locking onto yours, your stomach did a little flip.

Oh. Oh fuck.

You were pretty sure you forgot how to breathe for a second. He was stupidly handsome. Very young and very attractive. Sure, he looked older than you but still. You had expected a greying man to be the big boss.

“You’re late.”

His voice was smooth and rich—like honey and sin wrapped in silk.

Your lips parted slightly. Right. The interview. Not staring at your ridiculously gorgeous potential boss.

“You’re… young.”

Rhysand’s brow arched. “Excuse me?” His tone was warm, maybe even amused, but his expression remained unreadable.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean—I just—I meant to say there was something wrong with my alarm. I swear I’m not usually late!”

Heat crawled up your neck. His voice alone had you all flustered, and the way he was looking at you? Yeah, this was bad for your focus.

Rhysand hummed, watching you for a moment longer before nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. “Right. Let’s begin.”

He walked over, effortlessly graceful, and leaned against the edge of his desk—half lounging, half scrutinizing as you sat down, smoothing your skirt.

”So,” Rhysand leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his thighs as he studied you. “Tell me why you think you’re the right fit for this position.”

You straightened, flashing him your brightest, most confident smile. ”I’m very organized! And great at, um… scheduling things and answering phones! I’ll do whatever you want and need.”

Rhysand’s lips curled slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges. His violet eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you, head tilting just a fraction.

“Whatever I want and need?” His voice was smooth, dangerously amused.

You blinked, nodding obliviously. “Yep! I’m super dedicated. I’ll make your coffee, organize your files, take notes, remind you of meetings—oh! And I’m a great assistant. I’ll be there when ya need me.”

Rhysand let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That’s good to know.” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make you squirm before he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest again.

“So, tell me, what do you know about this company?”

Shit. You knew absolutely nothing. His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing right through you. Damn it. You only had one option left. You flashed him a saccharine smile. You’d charm your way out, even if it was tacky.

“I’m sure you’re doing super important work, Mr. CEO. I’m just here to support you in all your very important tasks,” you said, stalling and distracting him with your charm.

Of course, Rhysand saw right through you. He could see right through your game, but he let you believe you were in control. You were quick, clever, and undeniably sweet—something about it intrigued him.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clasping his hands together on the desk, and trying to hide the amused smirk that was growing on his face. “You certainly sound like someone who could handle the demands of my busy days.”

Not really. There were at least a hundred more qualified candidates he had interviewed, all more experienced and better suited for the job. But Rhysand wasn’t interested in any of them. He did what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

His smile softened slightly as he leaned forward again, arms crossed. “You’re hired,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You start tomorrow.”

You blinked in surprise, but then your smile brightened as you stood to shake his hand. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Rhysand’s grip was firm, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect mistakes, nor do I tolerate them.”

There was no malice in his words, just quiet confidence—like he already knew you’d be just fine.

You swallowed, nodding quickly as he slid a sleek manila envelope across the desk, along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. You hesitated for only a moment before pulling out the papers, scanning through them quickly.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened as you reread the number, making sure you hadn’t misread. That much money—for what? Just following him around, keeping his schedule in check, answering a few calls, and being… supportive?

Woah.

Trying to mask your shock, you steadied your hand and signed where needed before sliding the papers back toward him. You stood, reaching out to shake his hand again, this time with newfound excitement.

Rhysand clasped your hand in his, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. His smirk deepened slightly. God, he’s enjoy this.

“Welcome to the job.”

[ater-love]

Modern Rhysand

[astra-aeterna]

Does daddy Rhys ever get cuteness aggression when it comes to Feyre

have you seen her? how could he not!!! (plus it gives him an excuse to use his teeth~)

[certifiedfantasyreader]

Reminder that Rhys is a dilf

[arizona2004]

Rhys is Helicopter mom

“adult” Nyx X fem!reader

warnings: he’s more like 17-18, family drama, awkward nyx

This was originally written for the post I previously wrote but it went a bit too far from the request so I rewrote that. Also, I added some awkward Nyx moments with the bat boys because I just had to. It’s mostly awkward Nyx and cute family moments, honestly.

y/hc- your hair color, y/st- your skin tone

Nyx pov

Walking down the same road I take every time I go to my mom's art studio, I can’t help but walk a little slower as I pass my favorite pastry shop. Not only is every single item of food they have absolutely divine, but so is the company. I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare across the street and into the little shop and spot her. Y/N. She is the most beautiful female I have ever seen. 

I’ve known her since we were in school together but having switched to private lessons with my father at 15, I never get to see her anymore. Except for when I walk this road. Or get up the nerve to go order something. Which my uncle Cas says I need to stop doing.

I can hear his voice in my head: 'you're getting lazy. You’re out of shape. Stop eating so much junk food.'

He’s right, I know. With how often I go to her shop, I definitely do eat too much junk food. But seeing her smile, I can’t help but want to hear her laugh. And I can’t hear her laugh from across the street, now can I?

With every intention of going into the pastry shop, I take a deep breath and- I freeze. Someone’s behind me. Drawing my magic close, I whip around, simultaneously reaching for the dagger strapped to my thigh.

As the assailant blocks my jab, I begin to strike with magic but stop before the dangerous strike hits. “Uncle Cas!” I almost shout but try to keep my voice low so I don’t draw attention. A smile spreads across my uncle's face, and he releases my wrist.

“So this is what you’ve been up to, hmm?” His grin grows as he leans a shoulder onto the stone wall of the ally I’ve been hiding in. “This is why you’ve been late to training, slow in the ring, and wandering around at all hours of the night?”

I can’t help the blush that flushes my cheeks at his words, and I hate that I can’t lie or come up with some sort of retort. Cassian’s eyes seem to sparkle with humor and mischief as he sees something on my face that I wish I could hide. 

Before he can say anything though, someone else speaks further down the alley, “Leave him be, Cas.” It’s my father, I’d know that voice anywhere. He steps out of the shadows, and right behind him, my uncle Azriel follows, a small smile on their faces too.

“What- What are you guys doing here?” I stammer. My father raises his brows as if it's obvious, but I refuse to acknowledge it. 

“What’s her name?” Cas asks, drawing my attention back to him.\

“What? Whose name?” I pretend I don’t know what they’re talking about in hopes they’ll go away.

“The girl,” he answers monotone, “In the coffee shop. Is it the pretty one with the y/hc and y/st?”

“I- Um-” I stammer as the blush spreads down my neck, heating my face more; Cassian only grins wider. I swallow the lump in my throat and don’t know what to say. “What’s her name, Nyx?” Cassian asks again.

“Um- Y/n,” I murmur.

“Y/n. That’s a pretty name,” my dad speaks this time. “So,” he draws out the word, “what’s she like.”

“Um-” I panic, not knowing what to tell them. They’re going to think I’m a loser and a fool when they find out the truth.

“Come on, Nyx. Tell us!” Cassian pesters.

“Cas,” Az speaks this time, soft but stern, trying to pull Cassian's excitement in.

“Oh, come one, he can’t even tell us a little bit about her?” my face heats impossibly further. “Wait!” Cas says, finally noticing. “Have you not even talked to her yet?” The continuing reddening of my face and lack of response is enough of an answer for him. “Just go and talk to her.”

“Cassian,” my father tries to stop him again.

“It’s not that simple,” I say hesitantly, embarrassed. 

“Why?” Cassian pushes, “does she have a lover already?”

I shake my head no but refuse to say anything else about that. “It’s just not that simple.”

“Oh, come on!” Cassian says again, “You’ve talked to girls before, right?”

I refuse to answer, but there’s no stopping the heat from returning to my face after it had just started to recede. Uncle Cas starts to say something else, but I decide to winnow away to my bedroom, unable to hear anything else they have to say. 

Laying in bed hours later, I smush my face into the pillow, trying not to think about how embarrassing earlier was. Now they all know that I’m an awkward virgin unable to communicate with pretty females. Or any females beyond the ones I’m related to, for that matter.

Completely mortified, I refuse to open the door when my dad comes by later. I refuse to go down to dinner and ensure the wards I personally put on my room are strong, so no one can come in. except maybe my mom if she decided to break them with the power she got from Helion. She wouldn’t, though. She’s all about giving me privacy and freedom.

She does slide a note under my door after dinner though: Are you alright?

Yes, I reply.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about.

Great, I think with a silent grumble, of course, my father told her.

No one’s judging you, she writes on another piece of paper since I didn’t respond to the last note.

You don’t know that, I reply, Cassian seemed quite flabbergasted by my lack of experience. I bet he’s coming up with a whole list of jokes.

Cassian’s an idiot, she replies after moments of furious scrawling, and he’s doing no such thing. No one is going to make any comments, and I’ll ensure Cassian does not offer to give you pointers unless you ask. 

I lay there, sprawled on my stomach by the door, for a long moment, not knowing how to respond. I know she’s right. If she tells them to keep their mouths shut, my family will listen. But I can’t help but wonder if they’ll look at me differently. If, now that they know I’m a virgin, they’ll look at me like a child, like I’m no longer a grown male because of my inexperience. 

When I, again, have gone too long without a response, I hear more scribbling on paper then my father's voice.

“Putting my invaluable teaching skills to good use, I see. But why, Feyre Darling, are you doing it on the floor. There are plenty of desks for you to write at.” His voice is laced with humor, the smile on his face evident even though I can’t see him.

“I’m trying to write a note to Nyx, darling,” my mother mocks slightly. “Go away.”

“What are you writing?” His voice is louder now; he must be right outside the door.

“None of your business, Rhysand.”

They banter for another few moments while I lay there, silently wishing they would just go away, but refusing to cast a silencing shield, lest they say something about me.

“He doesn’t seem to want to talk,” my father eventually says, sparking my attention.

“That’s why I’m writing, and he was responding. But you should leave: this is your fault.”

“How is this my fault?”

“If you hadn’t gone and bugged him about his interest in that female, then none of this would have happened.”

“I didn’t do the bugging. Cassian did.”

“And whose idea was it to stalk our son?”

My father doesn’t respond for a moment, and suddenly anger rushes through me. Why would it have been his idea? I could get over it if it were Uncle Cas; that’s exactly something he would do. But my father? My mom made him promise to uphold her rules about privacy.

“Will you just go away!” I shout through the door, shutting up what one of them was about to say. “I hate you! So fuck off!” With a small seed of regret in my heart, I don’t wait for a response and immediately winnow away instead.

I winnow to the street outside of y/n’s apartment without meaning to and immediately cringe as I recall my stalker-ish-ness that led me to find out where she lived in the first place. I had followed her home from school one day, and as soon as I realized I winnowed away mortified.

Not even knowing where I could go, I don’t winnow but instead walk in the opposite direction of her house, tears streaming down my face.

“Hey,” a voice calls from a few feet away, “are you alright?”

“I…um-” I look up, blinking away some of the tears. She stands right in front of me now, an expression of concern written across her face. Y/N.

“Are you alright?” she asks again when I don’t say anything. “How about you come with me, and we can have some cocoa.” she offers while I stare blankly at her.

Gently grabbing me by the arm, she turns me and guides us toward her house. When we’re inside and sitting on the couch with cocoa, and my tears have finally stopped, drying on my face, she broaches the obvious topic.

“Why are you upset, Nyx?”

Panic rushes through me, and I shoot my gaze up to hers. “How do you know my name?” I ask sternly.

“We were in school together-” she says, shifting, seeming suddenly nervous. “Plus you’re the prince. The Highlord and lady’s son.”

“Oh… right,” I say, settling down, no longer tense. I look away from her, though, while I sift through my thoughts of what to say. “I got into a fight with my parents. Well, not exactly. It wasn’t a fight really. I was upset because my family found something that I wanted to keep quiet. Which I was getting over, but then I found out my dad was basically at fault for it. And we have strict rules about privacy in our house, so it made me angry.”

Y/N just nods her understanding and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I relax into the touch and let out a breath before continuing. “I told him I hated him and winnowed away. I didn’t mean it, but-” I stop talking, and more tears find their way out of my eyes. 

“I’m sure he knows that,” Y/N says, moving her hand comfortingly along my back. “My parents and I fought all the time. I’ve said that before but they knew it wasn’t true. I think it’s normal for teenagers.”

“No. It’s different,” I say. “My parents and I never fight. We’re like best friends, and I’ve never said anything like that before. They practically let me do anything I want unless it’s dangerous or something. And I train and do all my ‘future high lord lesson’ stuff without complaint.”

Y/N rubs comfortable circles along my back, soothing me more so I keep talking. “I know I should go apologize. I want to, but I’m still kind of angry with him, and I don’t want to snap if I just see him.”

“How about you stay here for a bit to cool down; you can talk to your parents later; I’m sure they’ll understand your frustration with them.”

I smile up at her and set my cup down on the table before getting into a more comfortable position and looking at y/n. “Tell me something,” I murmur into the space between us.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, just tell me something good.” I place my hand on her knee tracing small circles on it, and close my eyes to listen to her speak. She tells me some stories from when she was younger. I can’t help listening intently until she trails off, then my breaths even out, and I drift away into a peaceful sleep.

When we wake hours later, it’s to a pounding on the door. “Open up! We speak on behalf of the Highlord and lady’s orders.” I recognize the voice immediately to be my uncle Cas’s, but before I even get the chance to move, Y/N is on her feet and opening the door. 

When it swings open, I don’t even look at my uncles in the doorway. I turn to y/n. “You really shouldn’t open the door for strangers,” I tell her.

“They said they’re here on behalf of the Highlord and lady,” she protests.

“And they could have been kidnappers or murders, lying.”

“Pretending to be the High peoples’ is treason,” she replies, eyes widening at the prospect of someone doing that.

“Well, they would already be criminals.”

“Nyx,” my father's voice pulls my attention away from y/n. 

Before he can say anything else, I speak instead, “you can’t just barge into anyone's house dad.”

“We’ve been worried sick, Nyx. You ran away, and that was yesterday evening: it’s 3 am.”

“Well, we fell asleep. I’m so sorry I fell asleep at night,” I say, putting as much sarcasm into my voice as possible. “You know I don’t know why I’m surprised you showed up here; you don’t know the definition of privacy at all.”

“We were worried, Nyx. That’s why we’re here.”

“Right, and you must have been quite worried to have followed me around the city and find out about-” I cut myself off, remembering that y/n is in the room.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he admits, his eyes flashing a pained look of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

I cross my arms over my chest and look away from my father, thinking for a minute before unclenching my jaw and speaking. “I’m sorry I said I hate you; I didn’t mean it. But I still haven’t forgiven you yet.”

His body relaxes slightly as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he nods. “Will you come home at least?”

I nod and go to thank y/n for the hospitality, but she’s already there when I turn, throwing her arms around me. “Come see me tomorrow or whenever; I don’t care.”

I hug her back tightly and agree to come and see her before apologizing quietly for my family and walking out the door, as red as a tomato.

[mrsbarnes107]

Someone clarify some things for me please. So I recently stopped reading ACOWAR 25% in because I’m a Nesta hater through and through and am putting off getting to her book. HOWEVER booktok keeps praising Nes saying her,aelin, and Bryce are the queens blah blah blah nestas more powerful that fayre whatever.

BUT do we see feyres full potential? Like I said I stopped reading due to annoyance but she has so many powers and so far they’ve been used in such simple ways. MY QUESTIONNNN is couldn’t she be like Katara in Avatar? She manipulates water so couldn’t she “bloodbend” essentially and freeze it as well? Thus being incredibly deadly and efficient?

Putting aside my hatred for nesta, Feyre is the high lady that saved her family AND the faes as a simple human. She is better than both sisters in many ways and deserves all the things. As an eldest sister I couldn’t imagine doing what nesta does smh. I just can’t finish this series if I have to see nesta get glorified when she’s a pos person that doesn’t deserve it, she never did anything to earn something like that. I’m all for a redemption arc but this witch is STILL so angry and rude and terrible to literally everyone but Elaine. I wanted to read tog and crescent city as well before Jan 30th but is it worth it?

[theladyofdeath]

Prompt: “my hairs a mess, the foods burning and there’s spit up all over my shirt!”

Possibly elriel, feysand,or nessian???

Written with @snelbz :) Enjoy the fluff.

~

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Swearing and banging were the two main sounds that could be heard from the kitchen of the Knight-Archeron household. It was the eve of Winter Solstice and their entire family would be over in…less than an hour to celebrate.

And there was currently a pie on fire in the oven.

Rhysand opened the oven and reached in, careful not to be singed by any of the flames alighting the charred crust, and tossed it on the stove top.

It continued to burn.

One job. Feyre had given him one job while she ran to the store to grab another pack of rolls before they closed for the holiday, and that was to put the pie in the oven and take it out. He’d failed spectacularly.

There was a squeal of delight from the far corner of the kitchen at the dying flames.

Right. Two jobs, Rhys silently amended, looking at his son. Put the pie in the oven and make sure Nyx was dressed when she got home.

Which he was not.

With a muttered curse, Rhys hit the pie with a towel a few times to truly put out the flames before grabbing Nyx from his bouncer and hurrying him up the stairs. He hadn’t even made it through the living room when a noise came from his infant and a trail of spit up made its way like a river down the front of Rhysand’s shirt.

He stopped and looked down at his son.

Nyx smiled a big, toothless grin at his father.

“Really?” Rhysand asked. “Was that necessary?”

Nyx hiccuped in response and they were on their way to the nursery, yet again. 

Not even two minutes later, Rhys heard the door to the garage open…and close after a very healthy pause.

“Rhys?”

He cringed at the tone as Feyre’s voice floated up the stairs to him. “Up here, darling.”

He heard her heeled boots click across the hardwood until she reached the stairs and he counted her steps as she ascended and approached the nursery. As she paused in the doorway, she took in the battle Nyx and Rhys were having as the nine-month-old continually tried to roll and crawl away as his father attempted to tug a cute, little sweater over his head. She looked to Rhysand, who’s face showed no problems whatsoever, despite what the kitchen and the rest of his appearance suggested. He asked, “Did you get the rolls?”

Mouth hanging open, Feyre blinked. “What happened?”

Rhysand looked down at Nyx, then back up at his wife. He swallowed. “Well, my hair’s a mess, the food’s burning, and there’s spit up all over my shirt.”

Feyre continued to stare at him. “I…was gone for twenty minutes, Rhys.”

“It was more like thirty,” he muttered, giving up on the sweater altogether. “Are you sure he can’t just go naked? He’s an infant. It’s acceptable to just toss him in a diaper and call it a day.”

She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and shook her head. “You go get ready. I’ll handle the baby and the food.”

She bent down and scooped Nyx into her arms, who was babbling up a storm, currently a mix of mama and baba. Dada, to Rhysand’s displeasure, was not yet in his son’s vocabulary. “I know, sweet boy. Dada is silly.”

Rhys couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he got to his feet and kissed his wife. She smirked as she brushed some ash and soot off his face. “I leave you in charge for less than an hour and everything goes to shit.”

“It’s a good thing you’re always here to keep me in line,” he murmured, running a hand through his messy hair and heading for their bedroom, eternally grateful for the woman who was his rock and his salvation.

[shallyne]

I have a Dad Rhys headcanon

Now that Rhys is a father I think in the first weeks/months as a dad he's like fathering (is that a word? Idc you see WHAT I mean in a sec) everything.

Cassian, are you okay? You look sad. Azriel, you should eat something! Mor, where do you think you're going? It's late! Feyre, we should adopt a cat! Amren, don't be so mean to Cassian! Feyre Darling, I didn't see you drink anything today. You have to stay hydrated!