Maybe a rainy, cozy morning in? Rhys makes coffee and breakfast and it’s just a day inside doing nothing?
It’s been cold and raining all weekend and supposed to continue raining the rest of the week for me and I love it lol even though this weather is not normal at all this time of the year for where I live😀
Hope you’re doing alright and taking care of yourself💜💜
⋆☕︎ ˖
“Mmm—c’mere”
Lazy and slurred, Rhysand's raspy sleepy voice purred into your ear. A giggle slipped through your lips while he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦•
“I’m right here- I don’t think you can get any closer.” You teased as the male sat up, running his strong hand through the messy dark locks which were usually styled with precision.
Rolling his eyes, he smacked a sloppy kiss to the apple of your cheek before he got out of bed. “Okay— you’re cranky. Coffee?” With a simple nod and a dazed smile you threw your arm over your eyes. Watching your boyfriend stroll into the kitchen.
Freshly brewed coffee beans wafted throughout the house, sending a warm feeling down your body. It only made you get even more comfortable under the plush comforter.
Before you knew it, Rhys walked back in, two steamy mugs in his hands as his charming smile danced over his features. “Just the way you like it, darling.”
Smooth. Always so damn smooth. Even when he was in his sweet and relaxed moods.
“Well aren’t you just the sweetest?”
Teasing him through your teeth you both erupted into gentle laughter, feeling his presence beside you once more. “Not as sweet as your coffee- that’s for damn sure.”
You rolled your eyes, giving him a light little nudge with your elbow. Rhysand draped his free arm around you effortlessly. Naturally. Comfortably. Hearing the pitter-patter of the rain start up against your bedroom window. Perfection.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦•
Something sweet for my sweets! Had to go for that modern au againnn
Hope you enjoyed this little blurb hehe✨ but rain all week? Omgggg that sounds so nice and cozy🤍
summary: You’re a little clingy and your High Lord never seems to mind but—maybe his friends do
clearing out my drafts, so don’t judge if it’s a lil short
—
It seemed harmless enough, hanging off of Rhysand’s shoulder or scuffling your way into his lap when the festivities had gotten entirely too much for you to endure on your own. His hand curls easily around your waist, fingers tapping at your thighs when you start pressing kisses down his neck in the middle of a conversation with one of the other High Lords.
Boredom quickly grew, excusing yourself with a kiss on Rhysand’s chest to go grab a drink. There’s more options to choose from than you can comprehend, drinks filled with hand tied tea bags or fresh fruit. You settle on something gentle, like tea with honey and you have full intentions to rush back to your High Lord, a smile in place and a few pastries in tow but the group he was speaking to before has huddled in closer, voices more hushed. “—just saying, Rhys. I don’t have a clue how you deal with her hanging off of you all the time.”
That was Cassian—cadence unmistakable even with all the overlapping voices in the crowd. Your smile falters, steps slowing as more of them pitch in, clapping sympathetic hands to Rhys’ shoulder and mumbling out different variations of how bad they felt for him. You say nothing, lemon tart shaking in your grasp and tears swell in your waterline as you wait for Rhysand to speak up—to tell them at they were stupid and wrong and had not the slightest fucking clue they were talking about.
But that never happens.
“She’s just a little attached—it’s cute.”
Attached.
You swallow the lump in your throat and enter again, a faux smile plastered in when you make a point to sit on the couch and not Rhysand’s lap. You refrain from reaching out to play with his fingers or trace the inky lines of his tattoos. There’s no spare kisses, no sweet words whispered for just the High Lord to hear, no fingers sneaking up to play in his hair or manicured nails scratching gentle patterns at the nape of his neck.
Just your hands in your lap, clutching that now half-cold cup of tea from before. “Baby, come sit over here.” Rhysand softly whispers, a hand already wrapping around your back to help move you but you stop him, head shaking in defiance as you slide just a little further away from him.
“That’s okay, there’s people around.”
“When has that ever stopped you before?”
He says it playfully but the smile you give back doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Rhys. Thank you.”
His brows furrow, confusion evident but he doesn’t fight you on it.
He does, however, notice the way you pull your hand away whenever he reached for yours and halfway through a conversation with some male Rhysand had apparently known since he was younger; he tries to kiss you. Just a quick peck but you only offer your cheek instead. His frown deepens, eyes barely tearing away from you to finish what they were talking about because your distance is unmistakable.
There’s no fingers toying with the crisp lines of his dress pants. No hair tickling at the side of his neck or legs wrapped around his waist and the absence makes his jaw clench.
Rhysand’s friends leave for only a second, making promises to return with more drinks and that they hoped the Lord of Darkness could still keep up and he chuckles back some half-assed comment before fully turning to face you. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m having a great time.”
“You haven’t kissed me in hours.” It comes out like that’s the only fact he needed to make his point.
And to appease him now that no one was around, you lean forward and press a kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be too much with your friends around.”
His brows raise again; that’s the second time now you’d said something along those lines. “Don’t worry about them—they’re just jealous anyway.”
You scoff like it’s an insult, quick to set the teacup down before you did something stupid like throw it. “Yeah, whatever.”
Rhysand forced you to meet his eye, a finger curled under your chin and you could feel the caress of his talons prodding at your mental barriers. “Show me what’s wrong.”
Your mouth opens to confess but out the corner of your eye you can see the guys returning, each holding their own bottle of whatever expensive liquor was left on display by the refreshment stands and your mouth shuts just as quickly. “There’s nothing wrong."
He doesn’t accept it, politely pulling you away from prying eyes. “Tell me, right now.”
A huffy sigh emits, shoulders slumping and tears well in your eyes. “I just want to have a good night without anyone thinking I’m too attached to you.”
His shoulders square out at the venom laced in the word and the previous conversation had between friends seemed to backfire. “Oh,” Guilty fingers trace warm cheeks, grazing over a wobbly chin and Rhys is crooning out apologies; promises that it wasn’t true—that he’d said whatever to get them off his back. “I didn’t mean it. I love when you’re all over me,” The truth in the words is undeniable and while you’d like to be mad, you really had missed the feel of him; his warmth and the grabby hands that always pulled you in closer.
“But, Cass said—“
“Cass is drunk and not getting any.” Rhys pulls you in closer, fingers raking through your hair while the other hand grips your hips just enough to push them flush with his own. The music thuds loudly, vibrating the floors and rattling the very blood in your body but everyone else seems to be having so much fun—laughing loudly and leaning into the other without the worry of being too much, too overbearing, too clingy or needy.
“But—“
“Don’t listen to him.” Pure affection sweetens his tone, love twinkling into amethyst irises when taking in every dip and curve of your features. “You’re perfect, just as you are.”
Summary: In which a petty argument leads to Rhysand proving just how impossible he can be (Fluff)
Word Count: 710
The bedroom felt too quiet without him. The argument had been stupid—a silly spat over who forgot to wash the training leathers—but both of you had let it spiral. Rhysand, with his calm, infuriating smirk, and you, with your dramatic flair. Neither of you would back down. So, here you were, dragging a blanket off the bed and storming into the living room like a martyr.
The couch wasn’t even comfortable. You huffed as you threw the blanket down, trying to convince yourself you didn’t care. As you curled up, staring at the dim light filtering in from the balcony, you heard footsteps behind you.
“What are you doing?” Rhysand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and curious. You didn’t turn to face him.
“I’m sleeping here tonight,” you declared, voice clipped.
He walked closer, his silhouette casting a shadow over you. “On the couch?”
“Yes, on the couch. Away from you.”
Rhys crouched beside you, his violet eyes catching the faint light. He tilted his head, studying you like you were the most perplexing puzzle he’d ever encountered. “Darling, this is ridiculous.”
You huffed, clutching the blanket tighter. “Well, I don’t want to sleep next to someone who refuses to admit they’re wrong.”
His lips twitched. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“Go away, Rhysand.”
Instead of leaving, he sank onto the couch beside you, one arm draping over your waist. He pulled you close with maddening ease, his scent—night-chilled wind and cedar—washing over you.
“Let go,” you muttered, squirming out of his grip. You flopped onto the other end of the couch, making your displeasure obvious.
Rhysand sighed exaggeratedly, the sound so theatrical it might have earned a laugh if you weren’t so irritated. “If this is how you want to play it, fine.” In one swift motion, he stood, grabbed you, and tossed you over his shoulder.
“Rhysand!” you shrieked, pounding on his back. Your laughter betrayed your indignation. “Put me down!”
“No can do,” he said, striding toward the bedroom. “This is for your own good.”
“You’re insufferable!”
“And you’re adorable when you’re angry.”
You’d barely managed to argue before he reached the bed. Rhysand tossed you onto the mattress with an unceremonious plop, climbing over you before you could escape. He pinned your wrists above your head, his weight caging you in.
“Let me go,” you pouted, your bottom lip jutting out dramatically, eyes narrowing into a glare that might’ve been intimidating… if he didn’t find it so endearing.
His grin was devastating. “Not until you admit you’re being a brat.”
Your glare could have cut glass. “Not until you say you’re sorry.”
Rhysand’s gaze softened, though amusement still danced in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your cheek, his voice dropping to that intoxicating murmur. “Sorry.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry, darling. For whatever grievous crime I’ve committed.”
You hesitated, your stubbornness warring with the warmth blooming in your chest. Finally, you sighed. “I’m sorry too.”
A grin split his face, one so radiant it made your chest ache. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
You scowled, but your lips twitched upward despite your best efforts. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re irresistible.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, each touch lingering and soft. When he pulled back, his expression was unbearably smug. “Now, no more couch dramatics. Agreed?”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to fight you anymore.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my love.”
As he settled beside you, his arms pulling you close, you realized the fight didn’t matter. Not when the night ended like this—his warmth surrounding you, his steady heartbeat under your ear, a constant reminder of everything you shared. The silence stretched, comfortable and soothing now, until you finally murmured, “I’m still mad about the leathers.”
Rhysand chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Noted. I’ll make sure they’re spotless tomorrow. Anything else, my high-maintenance darling?”
“Just one thing,” you muttered, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Next time, I’m throwing you onto the couch.”
“Bold words,” he teased, pressing another kiss to your hair. “But we’ll see about that.”
I'm not sure if you take requests but if you do I have one
Rhysand with reader who is usual a very strict HL but Mor takes her out drinking and she's kind of a lightweight
So just reader being a cute drunk mess with Rhys in the Rainbow and a few shop owners are so happy seeing them be cute
ALSO ALSO reader calls Rhys "Hubby" in drunk slurring which she's never had cause they are Fae mate but Rhys loves it
Pleasepleaseplease
a/n: I got this a while back and it was so cute omg
Hubby
Rhysand x Reader
RHYSAND MASTERLIST
ACOTAR MASTERLIST
Summary: After a night of drinking at Rita's, you started to miss your mate, calling him from your bond without knowing, leaving him to deal with your drunken mess.
Cw: Tooth rotting ass fluff, a lot of "hubby", drinking mentioned
The Night had barely begun in Rita's when Mor had ordered a line of vodka shots for you to "Get started", most Fae had a high drinking tolerance but for someone who didn't usually drink, the potent liquor quickly took its toll on your senses. The dimly lit tavern seemed to spin around you as you struggled to keep your balance, leaning heavily against the bar counter. Mor, ever the mischievous demon, cackled with glee at your predicament, downing shot after shot with ease.
As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, vodka, tequila, rum, wine, you found yourself becoming increasingly disoriented, all you wanted in the moment was more, and you wanted him too, so under your intoxicated mind, you send him a full access to every thought. The sounds of raucous laughter and clinking glasses grew distant, replaced by a strange, pulsating rhythm that seemed to emanate from within your own body. Your vision blurred, colours bleeding into one another like watercolours on wet paper yet you kept drunkenly dancing on the floor with Mor.
"MATE!" You gasped, jumping on a male nearby who looked nearly the height of your mate, you wrapped your arms around the poor unsuspecting guy.
As you drunkenly threw your arms around the tall stranger, he stumbled back in surprise, his eyes wide with alarm. "Whoa there! Easy..." He chuckled, trying to gently pry you off his back. He froze when he realised who you were, "My Lady?" The poor male, still looking shell-shocked, took a step back, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture.
"Hey now, let's not get too handsy here!" A voice purred, effortlessly prying you loose from the startled man's grasp. That voice, that smell, you melted into him. Rhysand stood behind you in all his beauty. Your head lolled onto his shoulder, dizzy from the alcohol and the sudden closeness. Rhysand's touch sent tingles through your body, making you acutely aware of just how much you wanted him.
With a wicked grin, Rhysand swept you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his chest. His touch ignited sparks across your skin, even through the layers of fabric separating you. "Looks like someone needs a babysitter," He teased, then turned to his sister with a glare that didn't meet the rest of him, "You were supposed to take care of her."
He tried to appear threatening, but was impossible to do with his beloved mate in his arms poking and pinching at his cheeks, letting out dunk hiccups and giggles.
Mor rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hey, I did try to keep her sober! I didn't know she would be stumbling around so soon." She gestured vaguely towards the tall stranger still standing a few feet away, looking both relieved and scandalized.
Rhysand shot Mor a withering look before focusing back on his giggling, hiccupping mate. He couldn't resist the adorable sight - your flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and the way you nuzzled into his neck like a contented kitten. Despite his annoyance at having his cheeks pinched, he felt a surge of affection for you.
"I think it's time we got you home, love," Rhysand murmured, his warm breath tickling your ear. "You're going to regret this in the morning." He turned to the strange male, "Apologies for the scare, have your next one on me." With a nod, he picked you up in his arms, ready to leave with you.
Mor just shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Hey, she was having fun! And now that you're here, I've got other things to attend to." She winked suggestively at a group of rowdy females across the room before sauntering off towards them, leaving you alone with Rhysand.
He rolled his eyes at his sister's antics and carried you effortlessly through the crowd, drawing curious glances from the other patrons. Some whispered, others pointed, but Rhysand ignored them all, his focus solely on you. Once outside, he set you down gently against the walls of the tavern.
"You're quite the handful when you drink, my love," Rhysand said, running a hand through his hair, sighing. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
He knelt in front of you, helping you out of the high heels you were wearing, "Can't walk properly can you? Lets remove these." He winnowed the heels back home.
With a contented sigh, you leaned against the wall, watching Rhysand, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Once free of the restrictive footwear, he carefully removed your stockings, revealing smooth legs.
Rhysand's gaze lingered on your exposed skin, his eyes darkening with desire. He reached out to trail a finger along your calf, feeling the heat radiating from you. "You're burning up," He murmured, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Despite the lingering effects of the alcohol, being close to Rhysand made everything else fade away. All you could focus on was the intoxicating scent of him, the gentle touch of his hand, and the raw hunger in his eyes.
"Hubby!" You giggled drunkenly, cupping his face as you looked down at him with wide eyes, "Youcameforme-" You slurred together. "Hubby-"
Rhysand's lips curved into a tender smile at your endearment, his heart swelling with affection. He covered your hands with his own, pressing a soft kiss to your palm as he got up. "For you, always, I came as quickly as I could." He chuckled at your drunkenness, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes softened. "Hubby, huh? I could get more than used to that. How much have you had to drink?"
"Just... Just this much." You held up your fingers in a pinch. "Hubbbbyh..." You pinched his cheek with the same fingers.
Rhysand laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he captured your pinched fingers between his lips, giving each a playful nip. "Well, perhaps we should get you home before you start calling everyone Hubby. I'm going to be the only one who you call that." He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're utterly wasted."
You nodded proudly, eyes closing a little. "Hubbyyy... I am no lighwight..." You shook your head, smiling drunkenly, "I can... Haaandlee ittt...."
He rolled his eyes amused. "You say that, but you're in my arms right now, not your own two feet." Rhysand had scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest once again. "I think it's time for us to return home, don't you agree, my lovely drunk High Lady?"
You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply the comforting scent of him, your eyelids growing heavy. "Mmmhmmm... Home... Hubby's house..." You mumbled, your words slurring even further. "Noflying... Carry me. Piggggybackk me..." You try scaling his height, "Carry meee."
"Our house." Rhysand corrected, and smiled indulgently at your demands, his heart melting at the sweet, drunken request. "Of course, my little drunkard," He cooed, adjusting you securely in his arms. "Piggyback ride it is."
He bent down, allowing you to climb onto his broad shoulders, your legs wrapped around his waist as you settled comfortably against his back. Rhysand straightened up, his strides confident and purposeful as he began walking through the streets of taverns and shops.
The cool night air caressed your flushed skin, but you hardly noticed, lost in the warmth and security of Rhysand's embrace. Every now and then, you'd nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, or press a lazy kiss to his skin. The world spun lazily around you, a pleasant haze of happiness and contentment enveloping you completely.
You sighed, burying your face in his neck. You were usually stoic, the role of High Lady had taken a toll on the carefree young female you used to be, in the haze of the alcohol, you felt young again. "Hubbyyy... Hub..." You hold onto his neck, face in his hair. "Hub?"
"Yes? Need something, love?" Rhysand chuckled softly, the vibrations of his laughter resonating against your cheek pressed to his throat. "I'm still here," He reassured you, his hands holding onto the backs of your thighs to keep you stable
"Food... Hubby." You sighed, nibbling at his neck, "Or I eat youuu..."
He laughed, a shiver running down his spine as he felt your teeth against his skin. Your words were slightly muffled from the way your head was buried in his neck, but he could make out the hunger in your voice. "No, you can't eat me." He teased. "You need something to soak up the alcohol."
"Soak me up..." You sighed as he carried you through The Rainbow, a few whispers flying by seeing their High Lord and Lady like this, none judgemental, rather endearing, "Hubby? Food..." You pointed to an open shop.
He chuckled, shook his head, amused. He followed your pointing finger, spotting the open food stall. "Alright, alright. We'll get some food, you drunken fool." He turned towards the shop you were pointing at and walked in, still carrying you on his back.
"Hello Mr!" You smiled over Rhysand's shoulder to the shop owner "Can I have what you're selling? Everything looks so goodd..."
The older male looked up in surprise at the sight of the High Lord carrying his very clearly intoxicated High Lady, but a warm smile spread across his weathered face, and chuckled a bit at your cheerful greeting. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Of course, my Lady. Anything in particular you'd like?" Amusement danced in his eyes, eyeing you and your mate fondly.
"Mmhhmm... Anything... Warm... Soothing..." You slurred, nuzzling deeper into Rhysand's neck.
The vendor nodded knowingly, selecting some hearty stew and fresh bread. "Well, this is our speciality. Me and my mate's." He said and with your confirmation, he went to the back of the shop, ready to prepare the food in the rather empty shop. The shop usually did numbers, especially further in the night when drunken patrons from taverns came by for food when they realised they forgot to eat.
Rhysand smiled, appreciating the vendor's kindness. He watched as the man prepared the meal, the aroma of the stew wafting through the air, making your stomach growl loudly. The High Lord couldn't help but chuckle at the sound. He set you down on one of the tables, sitting beside you.
As the vendor worked, Rhysand couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and affection for you. You may have been drunk, but there was an innocence, a vulnerability to you in this moment that tugged at his heartstrings. He knew you weren't often given the chance to let go, to simply be yourself without the weight of responsibilities and expectations.
"What...?" You whispered when you caught Rhysand staring, leaning against the wall by your seat for support.
He watched you for a moment, taking in your drunken state. You leaned against the wall for support, your eyes glassy and unfocused. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before he answered. "Nothing, darling. Just admiring the view." He smirked, his eyes roaming over you, taking in every inch of your form as you leaned against the wall, looking completely and utterly wasted.
Rhysand moved closer to you until he was right beside you, his body heat enveloping yours. He gently placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back against his chest. "You know, you look absolutely stunning like this," He whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "So relaxed, so carefree... It's intoxicating."
His hands slid up your sides, fingertips grazing the underside of your breasts as he leaned in closer. "I want to bottle this moment up and keep it forever," He murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "You, drunk and adorable, all mine..."
You looked up as an elderly female walked out from behind the shop, the vendor's mate. She set glasses of water in front of you and smiled, "Welcome to our humble place, My Lord. Lady. I hope you enjoy the food."
Rhysand thanked her warmly, his gaze never leaving yours as she retreated back inside. He picked up one of the glasses, bringing it to your lips and tilting it so you could take a sip. "Drink up, my love. You need to rehydrate after all that drinking."
As you sipped the cool water, he stroked your cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing over your plump lower lip. "I've missed these moments with just us," He admitted softly, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "When it's not about titles and duties, but just about being together."
You took another sip of the water, feeling it soothe your parched throat. As Rhysand continued to stroke your cheek, you leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His words struck a chord within you, reminding you of the simplicity and beauty of your bond.
"I miss... Those moments too..." You managed to say, your eyes meeting his. In that instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a bubble of intimacy and understanding, eyes closing.
He nudged you gently, trying to get your attention, waking you up when the male brought the stew paired with bread. Rhysand guided you to sit properly at the table. Supporting your back with his arm as he handed you a spoon. "Here, try some of the stew first. It's delicious, I promise."
"Hubby Ahhhh..." You opened your mouth for him, clearly indicating you wanted to be fed.
With a gentle smile, Rhysand lifted the spoon to your lips, feeding you a small bite of the savoury stew. You hummed in delight as the flavours danced on your tongue, the richness of the broth mingling with the tenderness of the meat and vegetables. He continued to feed you in this manner, each bite carefully placed between your parted lips.
He fed you the spoonful of stew, his hand holding the spoon gently to your mouth. He smirked softly as you opened your mouth to accept the food. The hot liquid fills your mouth, warming you up and the spices soothe you. He couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable you looked in your drunken state. "Good girl. Eat the rest, it'll make you feel better."
You grunted to pick up the bread, dipping it in the stew, you brought it to your lips, "Mmm... It's so good."
He chuckled watching you, your usual grace replaced with clumsy, drunken movements. But even still, there was something endearing about it. "Careful there, love. Don't want you making a mess."
Rhysand reached out, gently taking the bread from your fingers before you could bring it to your mouth again. He dipped it in the stew himself, then held it to your lips. "Let me do that for you," he cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Just relax and enjoy."
You pouted playfully at Rhysand's intervention, but didn't resist as he took control of feeding you once more. He held the dripping bread to your lips, the warmth of it contrasting pleasantly with the cooling broth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you savoured the taste, a contented hum rising in your throat.
"Mmmm... Rhys... So good..." You mumbled around the mouthful, the slurping sounds of your enjoyment filling the quiet shop. A few stray droplets of stew escaped the corner of your mouth, trailing down your chin.
Without thinking, Rhysand leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick them away, his eyes never leaving yours. "Delicious..." He whispered, his voice husky with desire. "And call me hubby again."
You giggled at his request, the sound slightly slurred. "Hubby... Hubby..." You repeated, emphasizing each syllable with a playful nod. The intimate act of him licking the stew from your chin sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving more of his touch.
Rhysand grinned, pleased with your response. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he continued to feed you in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each dip of the bread, each tender placement of it against your lips, was deliberate and charged with intimacy.
As you ate, he nuzzled into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo mixed with the faint tang of alcohol. His free hand wandered down to rest on the curve of your hip, fingers tracing gentle circles over the fabric of your dress. The warmth of his palm seeped through to your skin, igniting a pleasant ache in its wake.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it. Maybe next time, you should drink a bit less." He murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "So you can fully appreciate the food."
"I don't drink too much." You deny with with a head shake, swallowing the food, and drinking water at proper intervals.
Rhysand chuckled at your protest, amused by your attempt to defend yourself despite your current state. "Oh really? Because you seem to be having quite the hard time sitting upright right now," he teased, his fingers subtly massaging your hip in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.
A soft, drowsy giggle bubbled up from your throat as you tried to maintain focus on the conversation. The alcohol still coursing through your veins made everything feel like you were floating on a cloud, although you could string together words better.
"You're saying that like you've not been bored with me being sober," You replied with a mischievous grin. "Hubby doesn't like it when I'm all responsible, does he?"
Rhysand laughed, the sound rich and deep. "I just adore you, no matter what state you're in. And I could never be bored with you." He pulled you closer, until you were in his lap, sharing the same space.
"You're perfect just the way you are, y/n," He said, his voice filled with conviction. "Sobriety, intoxication, strict, carefree. It doesn't change who you are to me. You're my mate, my partner, my equal, my best friend."
He tilted your face up towards his, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "I love watching you come alive when you let go and have fun. Seeing that sparkle in your eyes, hearing your laughter... It's intoxicating in its own right."
After eating, Rhysand paid the couple and held you again on his chest, as you nestled comfortably against his broad chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. The gentle sway of his steps and the cool night air on your flushed skin soon had you drifting off to sleep once more, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.
Rhysand carried you through the quiet streets, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the scene. He navigated the path home with ease, his senses heightened by the presence of his sleeping mate. The rhythmic thud of your heart and the soft rise and fall of your chest against him were a comforting lullaby.
"Hubby..." You whispered in your sleep as Rhysand carried you home, the gentle sway of his steps and the cool night air on your flushed skin soon had you drifting off to sleep once more, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. Rhysand carried you through the quiet streets, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the scene. He navigated the path home with ease, his senses heightened by the presence of his sleeping mate.
He felt a surge of protectiveness and affection wash over him, knowing you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms after a night out.
Summary: Your unrequited love for your High Lord has seen you distancing yourself not just from Rhys, but the entire inner circle. Rhys is concerned, and confronts you.
Word count: 2.2k
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You shifted uncomfortably under Rhys’s stare, keeping your eyes fixed the night’s horizon, still with anticipation of starfall that was yet to begin.
“What’s going on Y/N?” he asked softly.
He had sprung you from your hideaway. It was stupid, really, to think you could escape him, or that he wouldn't follow.
Tonight on Starfall, when your family and friends were drinking and laughing and toasting to a better year ahead, you had held yourself back, observing from the sidelines, longing to partake as you had each year before.
But things were different now, you were different. It had been a stressful year to say the least – too many losses, too many sacrifices made on missions that you couldn’t come to terms with. Choices made, last words said – the turmoil of your mistakes was a constant loop in your mind, each of your missions weighing heavier than the last, a little piece of you left behind on along the way.
And where you would usually confess or turn to your family for the support you desperately craved, it was all skewed by the devastating, gut-wrenching love you had developed for your High Lord.
You wondered what your friends might say – their snorts and sorry smiles as you dreamed of a life with not just any High Lord, but the High Lord of the Night Court, who was only just finding his feet.
It was only shy of a decade since Rhys lost his sister and mother, leaving the male to wade through the trenches of grief alone, which were only deepened by the weight of responsibility as he assumed position as High Lord of the Night Court. You hadn't known him before he recruited you to the inner circle, but in your few years of working for Rhys, he had aged, maturing into his title and proving himself as a true and honest leader.
And in those years, not once had you seen him take to a lover or celebrate romance in his life. You knew that your love for Rhys would be nothing more than an imposition – a burden for him to manage in a world where he was not ready to love again, especially not someone like you.
But concealing your feelings had a very true affect in physicality – you were plagued with guilt, rigid by unrequited, unconfessed love practically bursting to come out. Skittish manoeuvres to avoid his touch, aloofness at times where you were known to share and console – you had done excellent work to distance yourself from Rhys, and with it the rest of the inner circle.
Even the blatant probing by Cassian to open up, or gentle suggestions from Azriel to join them on flights went politely declined as you assured them you were fine. And the times where your work was too much, when you needed to tell your High Lord the burdens you were baring and seek comfort from him as a friend – instead you bottled it up, unsure of what you might confess and afraid of the very real affect of someone who was not yet ready to love.
Rhysand had been particularly observant tonight. Your own behaviour was predictable as of late, but after the first bashful glances to the ground, reddened cheeks where you used to bite back, and the distant, distracted manner in which you watched on – you felt watchful violet eyes on you all evening.
The tipping point had been Rhysand’s speech, a glass of auburn liquid raised high as he spoke to his sincere care and affection for each of you in his circle. He was thankful for all of you, for being the self-made family he could have only ever dreamed of having. But as he spoke to each of the members, starting with his second-in-charge, followed by Mor, Cassian then Azriel, you had slipped from the room before he could get to you.
Because in that speech - he had shown that he still loved, just not in the way that you craved. And if you had learnt anything through both your career at the Night Court and from Rhys himself – it was that happiness could be stolen in an instant.
So you fled, heart thumping as you craved fresh air – overwhelmed with cyclical thoughts and foolish amounts of fae wine.
After a polite ten minutes, Rhys had followed, finding the flattened patch of roof you often sought out after long missions, now stripping you bare under his gaze.
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
Rhys winced with worry. “I asked what’s going on with you?”
You forced a small smile, keeping your breathing as even as you could. You were trained to stay calm when interrogated, but somehow this was harder than some of the life threatening circumstances you had endured. It was almost laughable.
"Nothing at all," you forced your eyes to his, your stomach dropping at his beauty.
Rhys’s face remained concerned, completely unconvinced.
“Is it work?”
“No.” A half-truth.
Rhys nodded, a sense of relief that his court was not to blame.
A few moments of silence, you were burning from within, cheeks flushing yet again. You allowed for a moment to imagine his reaction if you were to tell him. Imagined his face as you confessed your feelings for him – your High Lord, your employer. How ridiculous and wildly inappropriate.
Your face flushed a deeper pink at the shame of it. Rhys’s eyes dotted to your cheeks, not missing a thing.
He leveled a look at you. “You can always be honest with me.” You felt a gentle caress on your mental shields, and it was an instinct you cursed yourself for to seize them higher at his touch.
You moved your eyes back to the horizon, sighing with frustration. He was here, he cared – perhaps you could just, try?
“How did you do it?” you asked ominously, a pained frown pulling at your brow.
Rhys shifted at your question, brows raising in surprise. “Do what?”
You cleared your throat. “How did you let yourself love again, when you know how quickly it can be taken away?”
Rhys nodded slowly, violet eyes softening with understanding.
“Would you believe me if I said it was easy?” he replied.
You gave a small laugh, looking down at your hands. “No, actually.”
“Well it was.”
Another beat of silence.
“Opening my home to all of you, creating this family is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, because it was meant to be.”
You nodded back. You would never tell him how easy it is for you to fall in love with him too. How quickly it had happened, how natural it felt for you.
“I would risk everything I have to have to keep you all safe and content, even just for one more day.”
His words struck you. Risk – there was too much to lose.
“I would risk everything I have for anyone I love, I think,” he continued. “I know that now, that it’s important to let go of what I can’t control, and let myself risk it all.”
He loved your family so dearly – it felt traitorous to indulge in the idea that your love could evolve past the sincere platonic form that it took now. You were greedy, spoilt.
“But that doesn’t just apply to my love for my court.”
Huh?
“As you know, anyone I care for is automatically a target beyond Velaris. My brothers, Mor, Amren.” Rhys paused. “And you.”
You looked up at him, his violet eyes unreadable as stars winked in their depths.
“I don’t want you to risk what you have for me,” your voice was barely a whisper, and you wondered if he sensed the deeper implication of your words.
Rhys wore a soft, sideways smile as he spoke. “You are well worth the risk.”
You were sure he could hear your fastened heart, no longer able to conceal your feelings. For a year your secret had lived at the tip of your tongue, threatening to ruin everything you had. It was too much to bare.
Silent tears started to run down your cheeks.
Rhys’s eyebrows clenched in concern, and he stepped towards you, reaching to brush them away with a stroke of of his cool fingers. You tried to step away, turning your face in shame – but he held your shoulders, a gentle hand pulling your chin to face him.
Violet beheld you again, and you forced yourself to not look away. Maybe you could face him, face your truth. Maybe, you could be as brave as him.
“You are so beautiful, Y/N,” Rhys said softly, his hands cupping your face as he brushed away your tears. “I don’t think I need to tell you that I’m very fond of you.”
Your heart thrummed, pulsing with instinct. Say it, out loud, risk it! it seemed to shout.
You bought your hands up to his, holding them as you took a deep breath.
“And I am fond of you.”
Rhys’s face lit up as stars twinkled in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and the smile that pulled at his sharp cheek bones threatened your knees to buckle.
You couldn’t help the tears that kept running. You were given in, risking it all, and there was no coming back.
Rhys leaned in close to your face, his fresh scent filling the air around you. He placed a gentle kiss on each of your tear stained cheeks before licking the salty liquid from his perfect lips.
You stared at him in awe, his beauty enveloping your view.
“Fond, on my behalf, is an understatement,” he murmured, tilting your chin upwards to him.
A gentle hand snaked behind your back, pulling you against his body. The feeling of him softly pressed to you made you throb, and you continued to stare up at his face, unable to hide your own shock.
He brushed your hair behind your ear, before cupping your jaw.
“So beautiful,” he said again, before leaning down and placing his lips on yours gently.
The kiss was soft, more attentive than you had ever experienced. You succumbed to it, letting your body relax into his hold as he pulled you in closer with the arm at your back, strengthening to hold your knees truly gave out at his touch.
You own arms naturally made their way to his hair and neck, trying to pull yourself closer.
Rhys chuckled into the kiss, inhaling as he traced his tongue along your lips, asking for permission.
A moan escaped you as you gained Rhys his entrance, his tongue sliding sensually over yours.
Your skin was alight, senses heightened and perked as every part of you ached and begged to never let go.
But a guilty conscience had Rhys pulling away from your lips, a small smirk pulling at your frustrated moan.
“Y/N,” he straightened, suddenly more serious. “I didn't come here to only confess my affection.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you hummed, fingers on your mouth as your lips tingled with his lingering touch.
When Rhys chuckled, you swore it pleased the Gods.
“The others are just as concerned as I am. You’re withdrawn, proper sleep has escaped you for months, and–"
Your mouth twitched, before you flew up to plant a quick peck on his lips, silencing him. “And what of you, High Lord? How much do you burry in that head of yours? It is hard to know how much to burden onto you, when you are already dealing with so much.”
Violet eyes danced between yours in thought. “Make a bargain with me.”
Your brow quirked. “Pardon me?”
“Promise me, to share the things with which you need support so you may not burden them alone. And I will promise to do the same.”
“Rhys,” you breathed, honoured yet anxious at the vulnerability weaved into a bargain such as that. “Do you know what you’re asking each of us to confess?”
Rhys smiled, shaking his head. “With conditions, of course. This will be for those things that you know you shouldn’t keep to yourself, the truths you know the other would want to help with.”
You couldn't help the grin that pulled at your cheeks. “You’re mad.”
Rhys flicked your nose. “I know what it is to rot from within, Y/N. And in a world of magic and power and darkness, I will not let you burden it alone.”
“Rysand…”
Rhys all but moaned, pulling you in for a searing kiss. “Say yes,” he murmured against your lips.
With clenched eyes, you nodded, aware of the itching sensation on your neck as Rhys enveloped you with another kiss, the etching of your bargain searing to your skin.
A gentle talon stroked at your mind then, hinting with sensuality.
You opened your eyes, forcing your shields down for the first time in years.
Rhys growled as he entered your mind, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeply. And as the night sky became alive with iridescent streaks of light, the beginnings of starfall went neglected as you and Rhys explored a world of your own.
--------
AN: Hello dreamers, I just had to get out a one-shot, and I had a few requests to write for the most handsome High Lord!
I sincerely hope you liked this, I haven't done a one-shot in a HOT minute!! So glad to be back with them.
Comment to join my main tag list anytime, MWA!
“I booked the table…” you explained, surveying the crowded restaurant behind you. “Anne,” you finished, mustering a cordial tone as you read the little name tag on her apron.
“Your name isn’t on the list, lady…” She even cocked her head, as if thoughtfully, to make it clear she didn’t know who you were.
You had told her five times already.
“Y/N,” you reminded her. At the sight of her venomous stare, you added, “Tarquin’s second in command.”
“Who?”
You eyed her incredulously, hissing, “The High Lord of the Summer Court.”
She was unfazed. “And is your superior supposed to be on the list as well?”
Stupid, bratty b—
“Tarquin… not quite as handsome as the Night Court’s High Lord.” You turned to the elegant, smoky voice to find a somewhat familiar face.
You eyed him up and down until it came to you.
Rhysand.
Not quite as handsome as the Night Court’s High Lord.
Of course.
You remembered him from a reunion back at the Summer Court. You had only seen him from a distance, not wanting to interfere in the discussion that seemed to get the worst of your High Lord.
A stupid, narcissistic prick, Tarquin had called him when you asked in private.
“You’re shamelessly staring, darling.”
Yes. It was definitely Rhysand.
“Darling?” you echoed, turning your attention to the waitress. You had no time for High Lords now. “The table,” you gave it another shot. “Could I at least get another one now? A tiny, stupid table?”
“You can join mine.”
You didn’t turn to his charming voice.
“Please,” you begged, but the waitress shook her head in exhaustion and moved her eyes to Rhysand.
“High Lord,” she greeted as she bowed.
Great.
“Is my table ready?” he asked with a well-practiced smile, which made Anne nod effusively.
“If you’ll follow me,” she said.
But he didn’t. The High Lord turned to you.
“My offer’s still up, darling.” You watched as his hands gracefully brushed back his black hair, his eyes glinting with confidence in your eventual agreement.
As much as it pained your pride, it was better than starving.
You didn’t so much as roll your eyes before you followed the waitress, not wanting to watch the satisfaction on his face as you said yes.
Rhys was quick behind you, and with every step you took, you could feel the winning smirk on his lips.
…
“So?”
“So what?” you asked as you wiped your lips with the silk napkin.
He chuckled, you guessed, at your hungry desperation and how you’d already eaten everything on your plate.
“So, what are you doing here, Y/N?”
“Here at this restaurant?” you inquired, trying to suppress your sarcastic smirk. It was now your turn to be insufferable.
But he didn’t give in. He even flashed you a charming, stupid smile. “Here in the Night Court.”
You extended your hand for your glass of wine and watched as he shook his head, still smiling, when you took a long sip.
He preyed on. “Business? Spying? Seeing someone—a lover, maybe?”
You chuckled. “A lover?” you echoed in disbelief.
“I don’t know.” He matched your laughter, but his seemed more forced, nervous even. “So what is it, then?”
You took your time before answering. “I’m on a mission.”
“Not secret, I suppose.”
“Ha. Ha.”
Your eyes got lost in the elegant gesture of his index finger grazing the top of his glass.
He caught you staring, so before you left any room for his flirting, you added, “I’m just here to check on the Court. To see how things are done here.”
“And are you surprised by the lack of murder, violence, and death in the actual Night Court now that you’ve seen it?”
“No. I’m surprised about you.”
At that, his grin grew bigger. “Are you, now?” he purred.
“Yes. I thought you were taller.”
And you got to see what few have: the High Lord choking on his wine. Nervously, ungracefully, and awkwardly coughing as he used his napkin to clean himself.
Checkmate.
“I’ll admit,” he started, mustering calm even at the sight of your uncontained giggles. “You caught me by surprise.”
“I can see that,” you smiled, watching this brand-new look on his face. Slightly blushed, slightly childish.
Very much real. As if his narcissistic facade had, for once, fallen.
You beheld this new Rhysand and couldn’t help the tenderness in your heart at the sight.
“You play dirty,” he snapped, pointing at you with his fork.
“I’m a High Lord’s second in command—I have to.”
At last, he laughed, and you knew it was genuine.
You pointed at him with your own fork. “And I’ll admit…I like this Rhys.”
The childish embarrassment in his eyes turned into childish curiosity as they opened, awaiting further explanation.
You smiled, thinking of how unusual it was for him to not seize the opportunity and start flirting shamelessly.
“The one that chokes on his wine when a girl makes him nervous.”
Knowing better, he set his mid-air glass down, not daring to take a sip as he chuckled. “You say you make me nervous?”
“I don’t know. Do I?” you copied his sensual, slow tone.
He held your gaze bravely. And then he surrendered, shaking his head as he beamed.
Summary: In attempt to get away from the ball, Rhysand encounters a generous stranger and seems to find exactly what he’s looking for when she invites him in.
Warnings: Mention of sickness | all fluff | teensy argument at the end but has a HEA :)
4.1k words
Rhys had yet to decide where it was exactly he was going. His hands were tucked into his pockets and the darkness of his power swirling from his neatly pressed jacket.
He left the ball thrown in his honor quickly after it started, it was an event meant solely for him to find a High Lady, or at least scope out the options.
A night of mindless women vying for attention that he had no care for, none of them held what he was looking for, and none of them were her. Who she was, he had no clue, but he would, once he found her.
A low whistle came from his lips, the tune the same one he heard as he snuck out of his own damned party.
I was squatted down beside the bar sign, writing the nightly specials with the chalk in my hands when the stranger approached.
"One free drink with the order of a meal? It's almost too good to be true," The male said. I turned, not noticing his footsteps, and glancing towards him. I chuckle, rising to face him— even if he towered over me, and readjusted the sign to stand on its own. "You hungry? I could open up a few minutes early," I offer and his dark, manicured brows lift in slight surprise. He was beautiful, truly, his tanned features and hair dark as night complimenting his stunning violet eyes that seemed to be stealing the breath from my lungs.
"Such generosity, from a stranger," He smirks, his eyes softening as he took in my modest dress and simple hairstyle. It wasn't pity that shone in that glorious violet, but warmth. Then those eyes flick down from my face, lower, then slowly trail my figure all the way back up— lingering for a moment on the way my neckline dipped a little too low for comfort. I blurt out my name and his eyes snapped back to mine, not at all looking ashamed for his staring.
"There, not strangers anymore." I shrug with a gentle grin. He mirrors it with a charismatic smile that has been guaranteed to have dropped panties before.
"Lead the way then," He jerked his head back towards the tavern and I nodded, swiveling on my heel and heading towards the propped open, slightly worn red door. The tavern itself was a little rough around the edges, the paint chipping from the walls, the fireplace dusty, and half of the table legs were uneven. But it paid the bills and the regulars didn't seem to mind as long as we served drinks.
"Why aren't you at the ball tonight?" The male asked as I loved my way around the bar counter and he sat on one of the stools.
"I have to stay and look after my mother," I explain, and I wasn't sure why I told him something so personal, so I quickly added, "Besides, once that ball is over this bar will fill tremendously. Someone's got to run it."
He simply nods in reply, leaning onto the counter with fascination in his eyes, as if I were a creature to be studied.
"And what about you? Why'd you leave?" I ask, turning away from his stare to pour him a mug of ale.
"I didn’t find what I was looking for there," He explains as I place the mug in front of him. "Out here, though, much better." His eyes linger on me as he brings the glass up to his sensuous lips, and something tells me he wasn't telling me the entire truth.
"That's all? I don't buy it, you're too polished to be wandering like this, what's the true reason?" I lean my hands onto the counter, tilting my head at him.
"Polished, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting with me." He taunted, setting his mug down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"And I'd say you're deflecting," I retort. "So tell me, what are you hiding, stranger?" I smirk, using the nickname to my advantage, if only to further show I knew very little about him.
"Perhaps I found a better reason to stay away?" He suggests, leaning back in his stool with casual grace as if he comes to this bar nightly.
"Oh? And what might that be?" I arch a brow, pushing off the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.
His smirk widens. "I'm looking at her." He purrs and a blush blooms across my cheeks and my heart rate picks up, I prayed to every god that he couldn't hear it.
I steel my features into submission as I say, "You're not a very subtle male are you?"
He snorts, looking down at his pressed black suit. "What about me says subtle?" His eyes come back up to mine, reaching to his lapel and picking an invisible piece of lint from it.
I chuckle and shake my head. "Very little," I say with an amused smile, going over to the sink and grabbing a damp cloth that hung over the faucet, wanting to busy my hands, I begin wiping down the countertop.
"So is this what you do, then? Tavern maid by day, barmaid by night?"
"No, I only work the night shift here, I'm a teacher at the school down the road during the day," I explain, a proud grin on my lips as I think of all my young students.
"A teacher? I thought they were supposed to be strict?" He suggests and I smirk, glancing up at him with a wicked gleam in my eyes.
"I can be strict if you'd like," I shrug, feigning innocence.
"You're bold for someone who doesn't know who they're talking to," He purred in reply and I scoffed.
"Bold?"
"Inviting me in? Flirting with me?" He suggests, leaning onto the bar, closer to me.
"I am not flirting. And I'm only being nice, you looked like you needed saving from your own thoughts." I shake my head, turning away from him and discarding the damp rag back over the sink faucet before moving towards the kitchens where I could prepare him a meal.
"And you think a meal will do that?" He asks from behind me, I can feel his stare on my figure as I shuffle behind the bar for a plate.
"I've been told I make a killer pie, you'd be surprised how far a slice will get you," I say while playing with a piece of my signature pie.
"I'll take one then," He hums and I walk back over to him, placing the plate of warm pie in front of him.
"Good." I hold a fork out to him. He takes it with wild amusement in his gaze before digging into the slice and taking a large bite. I tried to pretend I wasn't watching his reaction, instead refilling his ale but his minor groan did not slip past my notice.
"So, you never told me your name, what should I call you?" I lift a brow, glancing over at him and pushing his mug back over beside his plate.
"Handsome? Mysterious? Dashing? All three? I'll let you decide." He replied unflinchingly and it takes everything in my power not to scoff.
"I think I'll stick with 'stranger' for now," I give him a pointed look but he only replies with a one-shouldered shrug.
"Your loss."
———
The Stranger came back the next day, and the next, and the next. I always set a slice of pie aside for him. He usually came in at the end of the night, when the crowds dwindled and the barstools were put up, and once he was done with his food he helped me with the dishes, and I tried not to acknowledge the way my heart skipped a beat when our hands would brush beneath the warm soapy water. He'd always walk me home afterward and bid me farewell at the door, and only once he was gone would I realize that I never got his name. And if I did remember he'd change the subject or call himself handsome again.
I didn't get too hung up on it, I was far too distracted by his casual grace and clever remarks.
At some point we had shifted into him walking me from the school house to the bar, then meeting with me again to walk me home, I don't even know how it happened, how he had interwoven himself so much into my life. Not a stranger, a friend, whom I still did not know the name of.
I hadn't been expecting to see the stranger today. I wasn't working at the bar tonight, I told him that, yet here he was at the school house grouped with all the parents there to pick up their kids. They stared sometimes, at me and him. It was unabashed and more of a gawking look than a stare but if the love life of their children's school teacher is the only drama they have in their lives then so be it. I let them stare as the Stranger slung an arm around me and guided me along.
"I thought I told you yesterday I'm not working tonight?" I say, propping my hands on my hips as I stare at him with a pointed stare. "Which means no daily pie?" I say because that's what this was, right? He'd walk me to and from the tavern for some free food then be on his way. That was all.
He shrugs, his hands in his jacket pockets casually as he utters, "I still wanted to see you, slice or no."
"Shouldn't you be busy with more important things?" I ask, taking a few steps closer as a gaggle of young kids rush past me with their bags halfway on their shoulders, running to their parents.
"Who says this isn't the most important?" He suggests and a pink hue graces my cheeks. I look down at one of my students struggling with his bag.
"Well, you're always welcome," I say while leaning down and adjusting the boy's straps onto his back. The kid thanked me then rushed off, staring slightly at the Stranger in wonder. "Though the kids might ask you to read a story if they see you hanging around too much." I smile teasingly while brushing the front of my clothes off.
"I think I can manage that." He hummed, staring at me like I hung every star in the night sky that this court worshipped.
"I hope you know I'll be holding you to that," I say with a small smile, grabbing my own bag from its cubby and slinging it over my shoulders.
"Can you hold me to walking you home as well, or should I take my leave?" He asks, leaning against the doorway of my classroom.
I scoff a laugh, shaking my head amusedly. "I suppose some company would be nice." I drone dramatically and he returns my chuckle with his own rich, deep laugh.
The crunch of shoes on gravel sounded as the Stranger walked beside me, his black suede shoes so contrasting to my colorful kitten heels that the younger girls in my class adored so much. "So what does a school teacher do on her night off?" He asks after a pause of comfortable silence. Our hands brush as we walk, so I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug.
"Oh you know, wild stuff, baking pies, reorganizing the pantry, going to bed after dinner, truly living on the edge," I remarked, tossing him an incredulous glance.
"Dangerous, I might have to stick around just to make sure you survive." He intones and a soft giggle leaves my lips as I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.
I could feel his stare linger on me at that moment, and perhaps it was the sun setting behind me, or the echo of my laugh, but I could’ve sworn he whispered, “Beautiful.” I glanced at him curiously but he looked away.
"You know, I've been thinking—" He started and cut him off.
"Treacherous words." I purr, earning myself a sidelong glare.
"Rude, as I was saying, I've been thinking that you might be one of the most interesting people I've ever met." He confesses and I snort, looking at him like he’s gone mad.
"What's funny about that?" He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest— and I most definitely did not miss the way his muscular arms strained against the fabric of his jacket.
"I work two jobs and live with my sick mother, there's not much interesting there," I utter, looking at the familiar slightly run-down town townhouse in front of me.
He shrugs. “I stand by what I said,” He hums, continuing to stay beside me all the way up to the front door.
My hand rested on the doorknob but I didn’t make the move to go inside, instead, I turned to him— my breath hitching at our proximity. I hadn’t realized how close he was, but now I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his smell of sea salt and citrus invading my senses. I swallowed thickly as his eyes glanced down to my lips, then quickly back to my eyes.
"You've got flour on your cheek," He murmured and I flushed beet red in embarrassment.
"Still? Oh gods, I was prepping some dough for the tavern this morning," I replied, rubbing at my cheek with panicked movements and he chuckled, moving forward and reaching towards my face, then hesitating before touching me.
"Here, can I?" He arches a dark brow and I blink up at him but nod.
He cups my jaw, his thumb swiping over my cheek in a lover's caress. His touch was so intimate, and his calloused hands only brought warmth.
“There,” Again, his gaze went down to my lips, but before he could lean in I turned towards the door, fumbling with my bag for my keys while clearing my throat.
His touch didn’t linger as he retracted his hand and then took a few steps back. “So do I get an invite inside or am I subject to wandering the streets looking lost until I find my way home?" He suggests, simply filling the silence as I scrounge for my keys.
"Something tells me you're often lost," I say slightly shakily, finally finding my keys and unlocking my door.
"Not with you." He says casually and heat rises to my cheeks. I swing the door open, scanning the room for my mother then figuring she must be in bed. “You can come in, for a few minutes,” I say, entering the house and sliding off my shoes.
He follows my actions and closes the door behind me, taking in the warmly lit cabin, the fireplace crackling in front of the sofa, the curtains spread and welcoming in the last of the sun's rays.
I silently shuffled into the kitchen, and the stranger followed on my heels.
“So this is where the magic gets made, hm?” He said, eyeing a pie half dug into on the counter.
I frown at the sight of it and his brows furrow. “What is it?” He asks as I scan the room.
“I made that pie for you,” I say softly. “Hold on, just a moment,” I say and stalk towards the dining room separated by a partition wall. I peek my head through the open archway, finding my mother at the end of the table with incriminating crumbs and jam on her plate— and the corners of her mouth.
"Mom, what are you doing out of bed?" I sigh, more worried about her health than her stealing a slice from a container that I specifically told her this morning not to eat, granted she was half asleep and any food she could get down was as valuable as gold to me nowadays.
"I need a few moments of feeling young, and this pie will get anyone out of bed." She waves her hand at me dismissively, making a sour face as I attempt to look disappointed.
"Who's your friend?" She jerked her chin in the direction behind me, but she didn’t even glance at him. I turn to see the stranger now leaning against the open doorway, taking up the whole space with his height.
"Uh, he's—” I begin to say, only to realize I could not answer, for I still did not know his name. Yet here I was, inviting him into my home.
"By the cauldron— the High Lord." My mother gasps, standing up, her chair scraping against the tiled floors.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, gods, you'll have to excuse her, she's a little out of sorts—" I wave her off but the Stranger simply smiles and bows formally to my mother.
"At your service, my Lady."
My mouth goes dry. "You... you're the High Lord?"
The stranger— no, High Lord Rhysand, smirked. It dawned upon me that I never learned his name because he made sure of it, he only visited me during opening and closing hours, and that first night, the night of the High Lords ball, he said he hadn’t found what he was looking for, a potential wife. He had been looking for a High Lady that night.
Yet here he stood in my dining room like he’s always belonged here, his dark hair, his violet eyes, and his tanned skin all slotting into place in my memory of what I’ve learned of my courts High Lord. I swallowed thickly, glancing between him and my mother, then back at him.
“Can we speak, in private?” I say with a polite smile.
He pushes off the doorframe and moves for me to pass through. “Lead the way.” He gestures for me to pass with his hand in a dramatic manner. “It was nice meeting you, Miss,” The High Lord smiles charmingly at my mother and I grab his arm, dragging him down the hall towards my bedroom.
“You too, dearie!” My mother calls in a slightly frail voice.
I ignore him and pull the male into my room, closing the door behind him and then staring at him like he’s turned my world upside down.
I didn’t know how to react or what to say. I wanted to be furious at him, wanted to scream and yell and throw something at him to express the suffocating emotions clawing up my throat, but for some reason, I couldn’t.
Because beneath the betrayal, the anger, and the shock, lay something I thought I’d never experience. That flutter of something warm I felt when he smiled at me, or when our hands brushed, made me feel safe in ways I thought I never could before.
“Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” I whisper, quiet but not weak. My words were barely audible but he heard me, he always did.
“It’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just, I got lost in the feeling of you seeing me, for me.” He expressed but my glare did not waver.
“But you still have duties, you have a title— you have a gods damned court, you can’t just use me to play pretend,” I argue.
His eyes soften at my words and he takes a dangerous step forward. “I’m not using you, and I’m not playing pretend— in fact, it’s quite the opposite. With you Darling, I feel more like myself than I have in centuries.” He admits and I swallow, wringing my hands anxiously. “I wanted to tell you,” He adds.
“You should have,” I stress with narrowed brows, a furious expression that didn’t quite meet my eyes.
“But would you have treated me differently if you had known from the start?” He suggests and I clamp my mouth shut.
He was right, I doubt I’d be as unguarded with him if I knew of his title, and I certainly wouldn’t allow him to walk me home every night, and gods— oh gods, I flirted with him. The High Lord.
“I don’t know,” I sigh, rubbing at my face, unsure how to navigate any of this.
“I’m still me, nothing has to change.” He takes another step, less than an arm's distance away now. Too close, or too far. I didn’t know.
“But they do, you’re a High Lord and I’m just—”
“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, you are far more than ‘just’ anything.” He cuts me off and I release a low, well-earned sigh.
“High Lord,” I muttered under my breath, the weight of the title seeming to make my room close in around us.
“Rhys, please, call me Rhys.” He grabbed my still fidgeting hands, his familiar callouses still the same, the warmth still the same.
“I could never fit in your world,” I express.
“You already do, in ways I thought never imaginable.” He expressed, his thumb caressing over the fluttering pulse in my wrist.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you in it— beside me, I mean.” He confessed and I swore my breathing stopped and the words were stolen from my mouth.
“You, you can’t be serious,” I shake my head, disbelief encasing me.
“I told you I didn’t find what I was looking for the night of the ball, but I did— an equal, a High Lady.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everything was a phantom wind, except those violet eyes that I feel like I’ve known my entire life. Those remained steady, constant. “Rhys,” I whisper and the tension in his shoulders dissipates, as if hearing his name on my lips had lifted a weight atop them.
“I don’t know the first thing about, any of that,” I admit and a soft smile tugs at his lips.
“That’s okay, we can figure it out, together.” He promised. “You don’t have to decide right now, you don’t have to decide for another century if that’s what you prefer— just think about it, because I truly believe no one else could fill that role, not the way you can.”
I nodded slowly, still processing everything, and leaning into his touch, his hand slipping into mine while his other came to cup my cheek.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I nod. Because I had to weigh my job at the schoolhouse, and my situation with my mother— I couldn’t just uproot my life and move into a palace.
“Will you also think about finally letting me kiss you?” He mutters, our noses nearly brushing.
I crack a sly smile. “I’ve done enough thinking about that, come here Stranger,” I grab him by his collar and he grins wildly the moment our lips connect.
His hand on my jaw slides to the nape of my neck while his other moves to my hip, pulling me impossibly closer.
My arms sling over his shoulders, my chest pressed to his, slotting together like the final piece to a puzzle I’ve been trying to finish for years.
Everything else faded away as my back made contact with the cold wood of my door and his wicked tongue slid over my bottom lip. I gasped softly and he took advantage of the moment to invade my mouth. He explored and tasted and savored every inch he could find, memorizing the feel of me against him, my taste, my rapid heartbeat, my muffled noises.
I didn’t know I was suffering from lack of oxygen until he pulled away and I had to take a deep, recovering inhale.
I blinked a few times, the kiss tilting my world on its axis.
He chuckled, the sound like velvet against my bare skin. “That really did a number on you, huh?” He taunted and I glared up at him, wrapping my arms a little tighter around the back of his neck.
“Don’t get cocky, I’m still mad at you,” I grumble but his smile didn’t falter.
“In my defense, you never asked if I was the High Lord,” He said matter of factly and I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, right because that’s a normal question to ask people I meet on the street.” I scoff and he nods, staring down at me with a love-drunken smile.
“I might take you up on that High Lady offer sooner than expected if kissing is a part of my job description,” I murmur, ghosting my lips over his.
He gifts me a wolfish grin in reply. “Much more than kissing is on that description,” He purrs, matching my tone.
“Tempting.” I rise onto my toes and connect our lips once again, and again, and again. Prepared to do so until I was sure I was sick of the taste of him.
I knew it was reckless to make such life-changing decisions so suddenly, but internally it was clear what my answer would be to his offer.
A/N: I am exhausted and need Rhys to... comfort me
Warnings: this is mostly fluff but def smut too, cockwarming, somnophilia-ish (that's where this would head if there was a part 2)
The soft rug dragged against your feet as you trudged into your mate’s office, Rhys looking up at you through his reading glasses while you shuffled closer.
A slow smile appeared on his lips, tongue flicking out as he took in the sight of you in your nightgown and bed-ruffled hair. “You are up late, darling,” he purred, violet eyes twinkling like starlight.
A soft, silent yawn left you, limbs stretching as your legs carried you around the desk to where your mate sat. “I missed you,” you admitted, leaning against the desk as one foot crossed over to slide along his thigh.
Rhys swallowed thickly, his power flickering throughout the room as he struggled to control himself. “What do you need from me, my love?”
Suppressing the wicked smirk you felt within, you allowed your eyes to rove over his body. Rhys’s unbuttoned shirt displayed his tattooed, toned chest, his tightening slacks leaving nothing to the imagination.
“I just want to be near you.” The admission left you in a breathless whisper, eyes growing hazy as you straddled his lap, settling over the hardened length beneath you.
Settling against his warm chest, you relished in the feeling of your synchronized heartbeats as your muscles relaxed in his hold. Everything in you felt at peace, except for the ache in your core at his arousal pressing against your own, his scent growing stronger and darker in the air.
Rhys’s arms enveloped you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to attempt to work on the papers laid out before him. Leaning forward to gather ink on his quill, your mate’s crotch brushed against yours in a way that evoked a high pitched mewl from you.
Sharp teeth bit into the skin of your neck, tongue flicking out to soothe the sore skin as Rhys’s voice invaded your mind.
It is very... challenging... to keep my composure, when you make sounds like that.
“Then don’t,” you whispered aloud, leaning back to look in his lust-filled eyes, hands dipping to the waistband of his pants.
Rhys groaned, hips rolling up against your own, head tilting back against his chair. Your face flushed at the sight of his cock as it sprang free, pussy clenching around nothing at the mere thought of him being inside of you, stretching your walls in painful pleasure as he hit the deepest parts of you.
“I have work to do, though,” he gritted out, voice pained as Rhys looked to you for mercy. “I need to feel you, darling, please.”
Hands cupped his sharp jaw, tilting his face towards your own as fingers slid through onyx locks to tug him impossibly close. The tip of his cock rubbed your folds, making it difficult to focus as your own head fell from his lips, collapsing against his shoulder.
One hand guiding Rhys’s lips to your neck, the other slid down his toned chest to his cock, lining him up with your entrance. Sliding down, your hand gripped his neck, his teeth digging into yours at the sensation.
“That’s so good,” you murmured. “So deep.”
Another small yawn escaped you, your desire for Rhys at odds with your own exhaustion.
“Sleep, my love,” he murmured, chest pressed against your own as he picked up his quill to return to his work. “I’ll take care of you soon enough.”
“Mm,” you moaned, half-asleep and warm in his arms, the safest place in the world for you. You felt a kiss press to the top of your hair, love flowing through the bond as you fell asleep with Rhys deep inside of you.
