#rhysand fanfiction

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

Rhysand x Reader | Rhysand is absolutely smitten with you and you appear to be blind from it.

This is a part two to this. You can find the masterlist to keep track of future parts here.

warnings: none

a/n: I use a prompt from the lovely @thepromptswhisperer . you can find the post here. I bolded & italicized the dialogue I used from it.

The secrets that Rhysand holds in his heart are harder to hide than he thought. He can’t help it. His heartbeat is at its peak whenever you speak or simply look his way. The weight of his confession persists, akin to an inconsolable ache nestled in his chest, right above the delicate golden thread that intimately connects his soul to yours. 

Three months have passed since that night—the night when he found himself grappling with delirium, induced by the venom coursing through his veins. It was the result of a miscalculated move when patrolling the Night Court’s borders. His injuries, though not fatal, seemed insurmountable due to the poison's cruel deception that night. In a panic, he insisted on seeing you and only you. If he were to face oblivion, he wanted you to be the last person he saw.

The poison, however, proved powerless against your skill. You healed him and brought him back from the brink. "I think I might be in love with you," were the words he had uttered to you and though he was lucid, he meant them. Wholeheartedly.

And now, there's no uncertainty. He is in love with you. The Cauldron may have destined you two together but Rhysand is beyond doubt that he would love you, bond or no bond. You’re beautiful, sweet and kind. Everything he could ever dream of, and dream of you he has done. A lot. 

Rhysand wonders if you dream of him too. If you think about him as much as he thinks about you. He wished he had been there to see your reaction when opening his gift but you had been busy all day. It sparked a worry in him that you were being overworked. Then, his own duties got in the way, leaving him with no choice but to leave it at your door. You had greeted him the following morning when you went to check up on him. The smile you graced him with in appreciation for the gift was as golden and glorious as the sun itself. One he wants more of.

You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know…

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

Dragging himself away from the labyrinth of his thoughts, Rhysand brings himself back to the sitting room of his house. He accepts the glass of golden brown liquid from Cassian with gratitude, leaning back into the soft cushion of his chair. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s shadows seem to flicker with a knowing gleam. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Rhysand is referring to.  “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“A couple days too long,” Rhysand replies with a sigh, prompting a chuckle from Cassian. As he swirls the liquid in his glass, mirroring the stirring emotions within him, his usually composed facade begins to waver. “She’s my mate.”

“We know,” Cassian grins, though it’s the first time Rhysand has said it. A quick exchange of glances with Azriel makes Cassian shrink back sheepishly, putting on a surprised expression. “Sorry, I mean. What??”

Rhysand glances between Azriel and Cassian. “You know?”

Cassian and Azriel exchange another guilty glance before Azriel turns to Rhysand. “We suspected,” he replies.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know. We also heard your confession–ow!” Cassian's words were cut short as he shot Azriel a glare, rubbing his arm.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a wry smile. "How is it that you two heard, but she didn’t?" he asks, his tone taking on a solemn note.

“I invited her to dinner and you know what she did?” Rhysand doesn’t wait for his brothers to reply to continue. “She brought Madja and another healer with her. Thought it was a group dinner. I bought her flowers and she handed them out to her patients. Thought I had given them to the infirmary, not her. I asked her to join me for a coffee but she said she was busy and I do believe her–there’s been a nasty flu going around. By the Cauldron, is she even taking care of herself? Maybe, I should pretend to be sick just to get her to see me…”

Rhysand downs the remainder of his drink, the burn in his throat paling in comparison to the burning he feels for you. Turning to Azriel, his eyes sparkle with determination.

“Hit me.”

Azriel chokes on his drink and Cassian grimaces as droplets land on his arm. “What?”

“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it, especially after I sent you to parole the Illyrian camps last week,” Rhysand says with a smirk. He then angles his head, giving Azriel perfect access. He taps his jaw. “Hit me. Hard. So that I don’t heal as quickly.”

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Cassian asks, tone on the brink of offense. “I can give you a nasty black eye!”

Rhysand is about to reply when a shiver runs through the air. The room then falls into silence. Rhysand feels something teasing at the edges of his senses. His eyes, aglow with the ethereal light of night, narrow. There’s an unsettling disturbance within the rhythmic pulse of his court. An intruder.

Azriel’s shadows pick up on the stirrings of Rhysand’s instincts. He’s rising from his seat, ready to take on the uninvited presence. However, Rhysand, swifter than a fleeting shadow, vanishes into the embrace of the dark night before Azriel can.

**

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your gaze away from the gold trinket box Rhysand gifted you. Carefully placing it back onto your nightstand, you make your way toward the door. Madja, your mentor, is on the other side. She holds a faelight in the palm of her hand that highlights the gentle contours of her face. The small smile on her lips speaks volumes and you don’t have to ask why she’s coming for you in the late hour. Still, you can’t help but voice your curiosity as she guides you to the foyer of the infirmary.

“What is it this time?” 

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You smile in greeting to the Shadowsinger who is waiting for you. He nods his head at you and without a word, offers his arm. Madja calls out words of encouragement to you. 

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you both and winnow you to Rhysand’s private residence. A beautiful and vast estate nestled in the heart of Velaris. He guides you to Rhysand’s room, though you know your way around well. As your hand reaches for his bedroom’s door, Azriel’s voice stops you.

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, echoing Madja’s words from earlier. It’s more to reassure yourself than him. Azriel only smiles at you in response.

Rhysand’s room is spacious–a sanctuary of regal splendor. Its walls are bathed in a deep shade reminiscent of midnight and adorned with tapestries of celestial landscapes. Everything about the room reflects the refined taste and mystical elegance of its inhabitant and what a mystery he is to you. The High Lord of the Night Court is the most powerful in Prythian history. To many, he is careless and as cold as the winds from the Illyrian mountains. 

Only those dear to him know the truth of his nature. You still can’t wrap your head around as to why he chose to let you see the man behind the mask. Perhaps, it’s all attributed to your power but with Madja living here, you don’t quite understand the need for two healers in Velaris.

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream. 

He stands under the gracefully arched openings of his balcony.  Wispy curtains sway with the gentle night breeze, carrying with them the intoxicating fragrance of citrus and sea that caresses your senses. As moonlight spills into the room, it bathes him in a stellar glow, causing his membranous wings to dance in magnificent midnight hues. You can’t help but wonder which is more beautiful–the breathtaking view of the Court of Dreams from his balcony or him.

A stifled sound from Rhysand pulls you out of your trance, blinking away a gentle intrusion you felt in your mind.

“I have a name, you know,” you remind him.

“I know.” Though his back is to you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

He turns to face you and you pick up on the telltale signs of subtle surrender in the slump of his shoulders. His wings vanish and your eyes trace down to his chest, where he cradles a feebly wrapped arm. A subdued darkness stains the light bandage. As your eyes lift back up to his face, his lips press together into a fine line.

“Come,” you say as you motion for him to sit. With a casual flick of your wrist, your first aid kit materializes from the pocket realm, settling gracefully onto his desk.  “May I?”

Rhysand promptly slips his shirt off before extending his injured arm to you with a nod. You arch a brow. “You didn’t have to take off your shirt.”

“It’s warm here,” he protests, though a mischievous glint dances in those violet eyes of his. He leans back into his desk chair, manspreading those glorious sweat clad thighs of his. “Feel free to admire me, darling,” he smirks at you and you force yourself to look away only to catch his biceps tensing with purpose.

“You’re blushing.” He muses, his eyes tracing every nuance of your reaction. 

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You retort, feigning nonchalance. Internally, you’re cursing the way your blush deepens and the way your stomach flutters at the sound of his laughter. It’s deep and alluring, wrapping around you like a sweet melody. You’d think after months of knowing him, you’d be immune to his shameless flirting.

Focus, you remind yourself as you do your best to ignore the playful smirk that continues to grace his luscious lips. So much for Azriel’s claim of Rhysand being in a mood. Whatever had soured his temper must’ve gone away, you think. Despite his injury, he looks perfectly fine to you. 

You gently grasp his forearm and begin to unwrap the bandage carefully. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the warm, earthy undertones of his skin. Up close, the flush of his cheeks become more pronounced and the thin sheet of sweat glistens on his tattooed chest. Your keen eyes immediately pick up on the black ink trickling from the small wounds on his arm. Recognition dawns in your eyes.

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.” 

A furrow appears on your brow as curiosity mingles with bewilderment. You can't fathom how a Puca, a dangerous creature that roams throughout Prythian, managed to get this close to someone as powerful and even more dangerous as Rhysand. 

“What did it appear to you as?”

Rhysand's demeanor undergoes a shift. A-ha, there is that sour mood you had been expecting. Something akin to embarrassment flickers in the depths of his violet eyes. He instinctively pulls his arm back, but you tighten your hold, silently demanding an explanation.

"They say that a Puca uses your own desires to lure you and then eat you," you remark, your tone a mix of caution and concern.

Rhysand, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, hums thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

You drop your gaze as your hands fall into the familiar rhythm of tending to his injuries. “Azriel said you were in a mood so whatever it appeared to you as, must’ve been something for it to get you this go—“

“You.”

Confusion clouds your expression, and your glowing hands still. "What?"

You can feel the warmth of his gaze, a sharp intensity that lingers on you. "It appeared as you."

A moment of silence stretches between you two. The corner of Rhysand’s lips quirk up, the silver fleck of his violet irises sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more elusive. His gaze holds yours and there’s the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath his charismatic exterior. One you don’t catch.

"You flatter me," you finally say with a soft laugh, not believing him for one bit. 

And all Rhysand can do is look at you in bewildered wonder as your hands continue to move with deliberate care. He needs to try harder.

**

Days later…

Come back home.

Those three words stare back at you. Haunting and persistent. "Home," you quietly muse to yourself.  Dawn is your home. Or so you once believed. 

A home is meant to be a sanctuary. A place of safety. A place of comfort. Over time, it transformed from your sweet haven into a source of distress. But if Dawn is no longer your home, then what is? 

Is it the Night Court? You don't feel suffocated with high expectations here. The nights may be dark, but the stars shine their brightest here. They watch over you, listening to your silent whispers. There is a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows, almost like a sense of belonging.

You crumple the letter, the tangible weight of memories folding with it. Time is healing, you remind yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the stack of books and paperwork on your desk. Yesterday had been a slow day in the clinic so Madja asked for you to accompany her while she bought supplies. She treated you to a nice dinner afterwards. It was a much needed break but now, you found yourself behind in your studies and patient’s charts.

With a glance toward your desk candle, you use your powers to light it up. Leaning forward slightly, you fix your gaze on your first report with a strong determination to finish the stack by the end of your shift. No distra–

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

Your office door is deliberately left open, a practice maintained for moments just like this - in case a patient requires urgent attention. While there’s a room in the clinic set up with rows of cots and medical equipment, your office provides an additional space for those seeking a more private examination.

"Hello, daybreak.”

Rhysand strides in, his easy confidence filling the small space of your office. You glance up only momentarily before returning your attention to the task at hand, responding with a dry humor that matches his tone.

"Hello, High Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Rhysand tilts his head, his gaze lingering on you. Moving with quiet elegance, he walks past the examination table and approaches your desk instead. His attention is immediately drawn to a book resting on top of one of the many stacks. A poetry book, he recognizes, adorned with a delicate cobalt blue ribbon. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift from Azriel,” you reply casually and miss the way his face twists at the nonchalance of your tone.

 Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

“A book. That Azriel got. For me.” You repeat, deliberately slower this time. 

Rhysand heard you perfectly well the first time. His eyebrows knit together as he gazes at the book, a storm brewing in his expressive eyes. If looks could scorch, the innocent book would be reduced to a pile of ashes. Your birthday is months away and Solstice was weeks ago. 

“I’m hurt.”

You look up, keen eyes glancing over his form again. “You don’t look hurt.”

Undeterred, he saunters closer, swiping a deliberate finger across the papers on your desk. "Come on, surely you can spare a moment for a poor High Lord in deep pain."

You inspect his outstretched hand, where a barely visible mark is displayed on his pointer finger. "It's a papercut," you deadpan. 

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

Rhysand dramatically lets out a deep sigh and you suppress the urge to smile. The sound of a bell ringing–a sign that someone is in need of help–has you rising from your seat. You walk toward Rhysand, who continues to brood. Holding his gaze, you bring his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss right over where the papercut had been.

“There.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Feel better now?”

Every nerve in his body tingles with excitement, and there's a giddy flutter in his stomach. “Much better,” Rhysand breathes with a grin, savoring your touch.

He doesn’t allow your hand to drop, brushing it over his cheek instead and holding it there with his own. If you can’t see the flush to his cheeks, then surely you must be able to feel its warmth.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“You’re already paying me,” you remind him with a soft exhale, a laugh almost. The sound is music to Rhysand's ears and all his heart wants to do is dance to its rhythm. He realizes he can’t let this moment slip. Not when he finally has your full attention and a golden opportunity to seek more of it.

“You can come with me to the Midnight Eclipse ball.”

“Midnight Eclipse ball,” you repeat, your voice laced with intrigue, and Rhysand can't help but admire the way your eyes gleam with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Come with me and find out,” Rhysand replies, his eyes sparkling at you. He leans in closer, captivated by the softness of your gaze, and with a smile, he boldly adds, “As my date.”

“Your date?” you ask, your breath catching slightly. 

Rhysand only hums in reply, taking pleasure in the way his cheek presses further against your hand as he does so. The look he gives you is almost pleading as he gazes down at you. 

“Okay,” you finally say after a moment of silence with a small smile of your own. “I’ll join you. When is it?”

Rhysand beams down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. Shifting his face in your hold, he presses a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand and now it is you who is overcome with a giddy flutter in your stomach. Rhysand, normally attuned to your every shift in expression, is too caught up in surprise to take note of it.

“Next Saturday,” he replies, holding your gaze.

The bell rings again, the sound prompting Rhysand to reluctantly let go of your hand. You give him an apologetic smile as you turn toward your desk, grabbing a couple of supplies. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

You excuse yourself, walking around him to exit your office. Rhysand follows but chooses to lean against your doorframe, watching as you rush toward the infirmary.

“Don’t forget, it’s a date!” Rhysand calls after you, putting emphasis on the word ‘date.’

“Yes, I got it!” You reply, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

Rhysand smiles to himself. Though Saturday is almost five days away, he doesn’t mind the wait. Not when you just agreed to be his date. He looks down at the hand you kissed, closing it into a fist, overwhelmed with the giddy excitement building up inside him. You’re so utterly endearing. He brings his fist close to his mouth, suppressing the urge to bite it as he swoons over the thought of having you as his date for the Midnight Eclipse ball.

Reality begins to set in and his smile widens into a grin. Now, he has to plan the ball he literally just made up…

a/n: tbh, I don't know how I feel about this part. I feel like I set up expectations too high for myself because I really loved how the first part turned out and this part is kinda meh to me. anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this. I'm looking forward to writing the other part(s) as those include scenes I've had in my head for weeeeeeks lol. (You'll finally learn the little secret or two reader is hiding in the next part...any guesses? )I estimate only like 1-2 parts left, depending on how long the next part is.

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030, @nebarious, @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #rhys wby au

[illyrianbitch]

Insatiable

Pairing: College! Reader x Frat Boy! Rhysand

Summary: There are countless reasons why you and Rhysand don’t work… but those reasons don’t seem so important when you’re tipsy in a bathroom with him inside you.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!! drunken lil tipsy sex (between two consenting adults: drink responsibly), fingering (f receiving), p in v. all the funsies

Word Count: 2.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You knew you were a goner when you saw him, your gaze catching his through a gap between the shifting sea of people— a gap just wide enough for your eyes to meet as he grinned, bringing a red plastic cup to his lips.

Now, your hands grasped at each other as Rhysand guided you backwards. The pulsating bass of the music followed you, echoing in your ears as you finally slipped through the door and into the relative quiet of the neon-lit bathroom. It was surprisingly clean for a frat-house. But then again, it was Rhysand’s, and he had an image to maintain. Not that any of it mattered, anyway, not as his hands snaked themselves around your waist, warm and eager to explore you.

The counter was hard against the small of your back as Rhysand pushed himself into you, your hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling at his hair as he kissed your neck. His kisses were hot and wet, soft in a way that made you weak at your knees, practically purring at his touch. Your breathless gasps filled the air, mixing with the echoing music that blared from outside of the door. 

"This is a bad idea," you murmured. But you made no move to stop. Instead, you tightened your arms around Rhys, fingers grasping at his hair. He lifted you up onto the edge of the counter, pushing your knees apart in order to slot himself in between them.

His lips trailed along the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he murmured against your skin, "Is it?”

It was. You and Rhysand could never seem to make things work. The fire was there, the chemistry was unlike anything you've ever felt— but it never mattered. Rhysand was selfish, arrogant, and stubborn. He made stupid decisions in the name of good intentions, found no error in spending his fathers money on every whim and desire, and never knew when to leave well enough alone. But from freshman year, to sophomore, and now far into your junior year, you still found yourself in moments like this. Moments pressed up against Rhysand as you told each other that it was the last time, that it would never happen again. You shouldn’t be doing this, you told yourself. 

But as you pulled him back by his hair, locking eyes with him in the dim glow of the bathroom, any semblance of rational thought fled your mind. The red glow of the shitty LED strips pasted to the walls casted an almost sinful allure over his features, hair tousled and lips swollen. You wondered if this was how the devil looked, hauntingly beautiful as he lured people to sin.

"We can't keep doing this," you whispered, “We don’t work.”

He moved a hand to cradle your chin, his touch sending a spark of electricity that coursed through your veins. His thumb brushed against your lips. "And yet I heard you were the one looking for me?"

Your breaths were heavy, chest rising and falling with each erratic heartbeat as you looked at him.

"Maybe.”

He placed the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip, giving it a small tug. 

"I didn't throw a party just to get a maybe.”

You pulled back slightly, swallowing hard as you searched for the right words. “Did you, did you throw this party for-” 

"Yes," he answered before you could even finish the question, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. “I did.”

Your eyes met his. There was a certain vulnerability in his features, in his furrowed brows and parted mouth, as if he was preparing himself for your answer– getting ready for, what he must have thought, was the inevitable dismissal. But no part of you felt like running away, like lying to him as you’d been lying to yourself. Your stomach tightened. 

"I was,” you confessed, “I was looking for you.”

In an instant, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a kiss that was pure heat, a firestorm of passion and longing. Even the blaring music faded from your ears as you lost yourself in Rhys’ touch, in the wetness of his mouth and the grip of his hands. There was a faint taste of some liquor on his tongue– what it was, you couldn't tell. It didn’t matter. You were sure your own lips matched the flavor, a hint of whatever was mixed into the drinks you’d taken while you attempted to convince yourself to leave. 

His hands were everywhere, one at the base of your neck, pulling you closer with a possessiveness that made you pool at your core, while the other now gripped your ass, fingers digging into the fabric of your tight black dress. The dress you’d worn just for him. You moaned into his mouth as your body responded instinctively to his touch, arching against him, begging to get closer, to feel every inch of him against you. 

His lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a searing trail of fire in their wake as you tilted your head back, offering yourself up to him completely. Your breathing was ragged, each exhale coming out as desperate pleas that had Rhysand’s cock stirring in his pants. 

With a swift, almost impatient motion, Rhys pushed the fabric of your tight black dress up your thighs, pulling you forward as his hand grabbed a handful of your ass. You gasped into his mouth, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into his touch. You welcomed the warmth that rippled through your body, the sense of arousal that you felt drenched in. 

"Tell me you wore this just for me," he murmured against your lips.

Your heart leapt, a nervousness now filling your veins. 

"Shut up," you managed breathlessly, your response drowned out by another searing kiss that left you reeling, pawing at him like an animal in heat. 

You could feel it, the smirk that now played on his lips, no doubt relishing in the effect he had on you— the effect he always had. If it was another time, another night, you would’ve been embarrassed, maybe felt the need to gain control. But it wasn’t any other night. It was tonight, and tonight you wanted Rhysand.

A low, guttural moan escaped your lips as his touch grew bolder, his hand dipping between your legs, the heat of his touch setting every inch of your skin ablaze. You arched against him, seeking more, craving the intoxicating pleasure that you both knew only he could provide. Rhys, your body seemed to scream, touch me, feel me, fill me. 

You pulled him closer, your hands trailing down his chest as you sought to feel every inch of him against you. You reached forward, hands trembling as you fumbled with his belt. The sound of the metal clinking against the buckle was drowned out by sounds that filled the room– your harsh breaths and the bass of the music pounding against the walls. 

He grinned against your lips, his touch hot against your skin as he began to pull your dress up further, exposing the bare skin beneath. With a soft gasp, you pushed yourself farther against him, body trembling with need as his fingers traced along your soaked core. 

Rhys groaned as he pushed his hand in the front of your underwear, the material stretching out over the back of his hand as he used two fingers to spread you. You whined as he dipped a finger lower and pushed it inside of you. 

Your body immediately clenched down around it, cunt pulsing as you gasped his name, lifting your hips in response. He kissed you as he brought a second finger into your soaked core, the sound of your moan swallowed by his mouth on yours. You were grasping at him, hands in his hair, on his shoulders, everywhere you could reach. 

Rhysand’s lips found your neck next, nose running along your smooth skin. He peckered kisses in a small trail, stopping to give a harsh suck that had you murmuring his name once more. 

With each curl of his fingers, the coil in your stomach tightened, a deep sense of urgency in your body growing, a need to feel him even more. "Please," you gasped, your voice a broken and desperate plea.

“Please what?" he teased, voice husky with desire as he brought his fingers deeper inside you with each stroke.

"Fuck me.”

Rhysand maintained his rhythm, the heel of his palm brushing against your sensitive clit as he brought his fingers in and out of you.  "Patience, gorgeous," he murmured into your ear, “I’m getting there.”

But you didn’t want to fall apart like this, not on his hands. You wanted to feel him inside you, feel him stretching you out with every roll of his hips, feel him come undone with you– inside you. 

"Well get there faster.”

Rhysand pulled back slightly, hands still buried inside you, fingers coated in your slick essence. "What's the rush, huh?" he murmured, his voice thick with amusement as he gazed down at you.

You squirmed beneath him, an ache for release burning deep within you. "I don't want to finish on your hands.”

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he withdrew his hands, leaving you feeling empty and achingly needy. "As you wish," he conceded, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

The sight of him licking his fingers clean sent a surge of arousal coursing through you, and you reached forward. Your hands fumbled with his pants, eager to feel him against you, and with a swift motion, he pushed them down with underwear, his cock springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, at the desire to taste him and feel him everywhere. God you missed this, you missed him.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter and began teasing you with his length, holding it in his hand as he rubbed it against your folds with maddening slowness, coating the tip of his cock in your wetness. You whimpered in frustration.

"Rhys.”

He grinned against your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a wave of heat through your body. "Yes, darling?" 

“Please.” You bit your lip, the sensation of his touch clouding your thoughts, mind hazy with a desire that consumed you.  "I need you.”

His movements stilled for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. "Then you shall have me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself inside you. You choked on a moan, head dropping forward to rest on his shoulder, fingers clutching at his shirt. 

"You’re fucking divine," Rhysand murmured, his voice low and husky as he began to move. "Gods, I've missed this."

You nodded against him, unable to form coherent words as waves of electricity washed over you. Rhysand grunted as he increased the rhythm of his movements, each thrust desperate and passionate.

“Haven’t you missed this, too? Me inside you?”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling his tongue against yours. “Yes,” you whimpered against his mouth, one hand holding his jaw as the other clawed at his bicep. Your voice was barely a breath, barely audible between the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Rhys leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as you both panted. He looked at you through dark lashes, pupils blown wide as he murmured, “Does anyone else make you feel this way?” 

You met his gaze, hands holding onto him as he bucked his hips up into you, feeling the way your cunt massaged his cock from inside. You clenched around him, breathing heavy.

“No.”

No one, ever. And it wasn't for a lack of trying. You’d tried hard, tried your absolute best to get Rhysand out of your system. But no one ever compared. The prick was in your bloodstream, in the air that you breathed. You craved him. Even now, as he fucked you, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

Rhysand pulled out for a moment before he pulled you off the counter and flipped you around, repositioning you so that he could enter you from behind. He guided himself inside you once again, gripping onto your hips, the bunched fabric of your rolled up dress above his knuckles. 

You arched your back as every snap of Rhysand’s pushed you further onto the counter, closer to the mirror. Your hands desperately searched for something to grab onto as he fucked into you– one hand gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles, the other reaching back to lightly brush Rhys’.

With every snap of his hips, a new wave of pleasure rolled through your body, the sensation of him filling you from this new angle making you feel fuzzy and weak. You met his gaze in the mirror, watching as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. And then his lips were hovering over your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck.

“Does this feel like we don’t work?”

You couldn't answer, couldn’t bring your mouth to move as he held your stare. Your body quivered with each movement, every sensation heightened by the reflection of him fucking you from behind. Rhys moved faster and harder, his hands reaching around to push the flimsy straps of your dress down, exposing your bare front to the cool air of the bathroom. Your nipples peaked instantly, and with a possessive grip, Rhys pulled you up against his chest, one gripping your breast as he claimed you as his own.

"Because it feels like we were made for each other," he breathed against your skin. Your breath hitched, mouth falling open in bliss as he pushed into you, the warmth of him against your back strong and commanding. 

"Rhys," you moaned as he continued to drive you towards the edge of your release. With each movement, each touch, he pushed you closer and closer, a tight coil in the pit of your stomach slowly unraveling. 

And then, with a swift motion, he moved a hand from your hip to circle your clit, sending waves of white-hot pleasure rippling through your body. You felt him everywhere, his cock inside you, his hands gripping your body. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he locked eyes with you once more in the mirror, his eyes burning with raw desire. 

"You're perfect," he said, his words almost reverent, gentle like a prayer falling from his lips. Your heart clenched at his words, now pounding fast in your chest, a fluttering sensation in your ribs. “You look so beautiful like this.”

With one final snap, you felt the tension within you reach its breaking point, pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Your cunt clenched around him, the sensation driving him over the edge with one last harsh snap, his release echoing yours with a loud moan that had his head falling onto your shoulders. 

It took a few moments for you both to catch your breath once more, Rhysand pulling out gently, making sure to keep his hold on your trembling legs. His movements were careful, almost tender, as he helped you clean up.

Turning to face him, you found yourself lost in his gaze. You knew that your hair mussed and your makeup was smudged, both things you’d noted as you watched him fuck you, but didn’t quite acknowledge until now. With a soft smile, Rhysand reached out and brushed the skin around your lips with his thumb, wiping a small streak of your lipstick.

"Beautiful," he said, his words a whispered caress that had you blushing and looking down.

He brought you into a sweet, small kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that had your heart fluttering. "You should get back to your party," you whispered.

"I should.”

Rhysand’s hand dropped from your face, your skin now feeling cold and empty, already begging to be touched by him once more. He paused, his eyes searching your face for a moment. 

"Guessing this is the last time?" 

You stilled, breathless and nervous, knowing deep down that it should be the last time. But the truth was undeniable, your heart was hammering in your chest and there was already a new wetness pooling at your core at the thought of him before you. You wanted to kiss him, to hold his hand, to lose yourself in the intoxicating heat of his touch over and over again. 

"It should be." You reached to readjust your straps, a feeble attempt to conceal the uncertainty that coated your words. 

Rhys narrowed his eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a small grin spread across his lips. "You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”

As he opened the door, the sounds of the party flooded back into the room, the thumping bass reverberating through your bones. You cringed at the sudden smells and sounds that were now filling your senses. Turning back to you, Rhysand met your eyes one last time. 

"You're always worth the wait.”

Despite how low his voice was, you heard him in perfect clarity, the words echoing in your ears long after he disappeared into the pulsating chaos of the party. 

Taking one last look around the red- lit bathroom, you gathered your resolve, pushing aside the fluttering sensation in your chest as you straightened your dress and adjusted your hair, setting out to find your friends.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

college bat boys and frat boy rhysand is something i think about daily 💋

i’m in such a writing rut so enjoy this lil one shot that i think is ASS 🧎🏻‍♀️ but it’s okay we ball.

MWUAH

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhys x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand smut #acotar smut #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Pairing(s): Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Warnings: poly relationship, smut, sharing is caring, poly mates, fff what i would give to have the bat boys as my mates, voyeurism, masturbation, bratty reader, disobeying rhys and the gang, punishment, overstimulation

Words: 1761

Summary: One major flaw of your's: You were cocky of not just your own strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates.

You knew you were in deep shit the moment you nailed the coffin into your decision.

Rhysand forbade you from acting out on your own during this reconnaissance. Normally he wouldn't have said anything; you were good at whatever you put your mind to and you knew how to behave yourself unlike Cassian who was known to blow his cover from time to time. You and Azriel made an excellent spy pair. Both levelheaded and calculating, not to mention very deadly. Lacking the useful shadows that were unique to Azriel, that didn't stop you from being just as intimidating.

Or perhaps reckless.

That was one major flaw of your's. You were cocky of not just your strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates. Yes, THREE.

A fae would be lucky to find their soulmate in their lifetime. Many never felt that electrifying spark of your invisible bond being snapped into place. And you'd felt it three times. A phenomenon that had never been witnessed before in all of fae history. It caused Rhysand to delve deep into the House of Wind's library to look up whatever he could about fae soulmates. He even went so far as to ask Helion, whom he had a somewhat friendly relationship with, if he could scrounge up any information on his end. The Day Court high lord upon hearing of this immediately became highly interested.

Of course you would feel indestructible. On top of the world even. In your pocket you possessed a High Lord, a general and a spymaster. You yourself were known as the Mistress of Poison.

None of that would save you from disobeying Rhysand's orders though. Sometimes you forgot that you HAD to obey him. Even if the four of you stood together as equals, there was still a power dynamic when regarding Rhysand. Azriel would not be covering for you this time.

"It was the perfect opportunity Rhys!" Trying to argue your case once more, Rhysand merely holds a hand up to quiet you. You pout, biting down on your lower lip to prevent anymore words from slipping out. Nervously you glance to either side of you where Cassian and Azriel stood.

Az's blue eyes catch you in the corner, he stiffly shakes his head. Don't argue, love.

Even Cassian's voice chimes in You've really done it this time.

He wasn't exaggerating. Rhys' pretty violet eyes were hardened. "You could have gotten hurt." More importantly, you blocked me from your thoughts. Like you think I wouldn't know. "You disobeyed me. You could have even blown Azriel's position."

Unlikely. . . Azriel half muses but returns his face to a neutral expression when he caught Rhysand's gaze sharply slice into him.

Utterly foolish, you utter "But I didn't get hurt. And I didn't blow Azriel's cover." The pressure of his power thickens the air around you. "I succeeded in killing them, didn't I? Succeeded in what we were sent out to do."

Cauldron, zip your beautiful mouth. Mentally hisses Cassian. From the corner of your eye you catch a twitch of his wings.

You were digging your own grave yet you couldn't stay silent. Rhys' doubt of your capability wounded you.

Rhys sighs deeply through his nose, the rigidness of his broad shoulders reduces when he reads your thoughts. "That's not the issue here."

"You don't think I can take care of myself? That I can't be trusted like Cassian and Azriel?"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Rhysand's deep black hair shifts as he shakes his head. "Perhaps this is my fault. You think you don't have to listen to me because you're my mate. That you don't have to listen to any of us."

From either side, you suddenly feel hands clamp down on your wrists. Rounded eyes gawk at Cassian before swiveling to Azriel. You give your wrists an experimental tug to test your restraints. Fingers like iron manacles.

"You're spoiled."

Brat.

The click of his boots hammer into your chest each step he took.

"I can't let this insubordination continue. I know you can take care of yourself. If you had discussed this with us, we would not be in the situation we're in now."

You didn't even tell Az where you'd rushed off to. And you didn't care about what you would be putting him through with your vanishing act.

Finally Rhysand stands in front of you. His entire hand was able to grab your entire jaw. "I'm proud that you succeeded. But I'm going to have to remedy your arrogance."

You try to wrench your face out of his grasp, in response Rhysand tightens his hold. He's not looking at you, addressing the other two. "Take her to my room. I'll be there in a moment. Have her ready."

A thrilling surge shoots through your core, alongside terror that you would be at their complete mercy. Unable to touch and coax them. All of you knew you wouldn't apologize for what you did. This wasn't the first time you'd callously acted on your own. To your credit, it had been quite some time since you'd last disobeyed Rhys.

"Really should have kept your mouth shut." Cassian barks out a laugh as he and Azriel haul you off.

Azriel shakes his head but even he has a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it's you who needs to shut your mouth Cass. She may be at our mercy, but I doubt that exempts you from having your dick bitten."

He rolls his eyes. "She would never! Love my cock too much, don't you?"

In reply you snap your jaws at him before turning your attention to Az. "You know I didn't mean anything bad by what I did. I know I should have taken your feelings into consideration-"

"But you didn't. Don't think you can sweeten me up with a belated apology." Hazel eyes narrow at you. He would be offering no help to you. "Be silent and accept your punishment.

The cover over your eyes disorients you even more. Still you were able to distinguish whose cock was shoved into your mouth and whose teeth were sweetly nibbling on your clit causing you to cry out and beg for mercy.

You'd already orgasmed twice and your poor clit was overstimulated to the point where pleasure bordered pain.

You try to yank your hands free from Rhys' magic that bound you. His heavy gaze weighing you down. You didn't require sight, of course Rhysand would be watching. Probably fisting his own thick cock that was beading with precum. He wouldn't waste his seed on masturbating though.

"Alright. Have her present." Rhys voice sounds lazy as he commands his general and spymaster to stop.

Suddenly your body is pulled this way and that until your face is pressed against a pillow, ass positioned high up. Rough hands spread your legs so your already messy cunt is on display for the High Lord of the Night Court.

There's a sharp smack to your ass that has you yelping.

Another.

And another.

Then obtrusive fingers slide right into your exhausted pussy. You'd already taken Cassian and Azriel. Twice.

A hand, most likely Az's, strokes your sweat soaked hair.

"We're a team, are we not?" Rhysand's harsh tone clips through your pants.

"Y-Yes." At that point you'd allow all three of them to try and shove their dicks inside of your cunt if it meant you could get water and some rest. "M'sorry. . ."

"We talk things out together." He removes his fingers and you could feel the spongy tip of his cock prod at you. "None of us make a move until all of us agree. Was that not the plan? Don't apologize just to me."

"M'sorry Cass. . . S-Sorry Az. . ." You're barely able to catch your breath when you feel Rhysand breach your folds. Your nails cling desperately to the sheets under you.

Cassian laughs. "I know you are, sweetheart. I forgive you."

Azriel's scarred digits are still weaving through your hair as he hums. "Just remember next time. Don't let it happen again."

"Though I dare say she likes being punished." Darkly laughs Cassian when Rhysand finally snaps his hips forward to sheathe himself inside of you.

He stretches your walls to their limit in a ferocious rhythm that has you unattractively squealing. Rhysand's grip on your waist is firm as he keeps you in position with the help of your other two mates. You can't help the drool that dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. Especially when his balls keep tapping against your clit.

Through his own groans of pleasure at the absolute death grip your pussy had on his shaft, Rhysand manages to pull himself together to ask "What do you guys think, should I make her cum again?"

"N... N. . . No!" You helplessly protest from under him.

They just laugh.

"Never heard you reject an orgasm before." Azriel cheekily comments.

Rhysand must have thought it a good idea since you felt another white hot jolt when the pad of his finger lands on your poor clit that throbbed with its own heartbeat. "Our High Lady can take one more."

You thought you'd ascended to another plane of existence.

Your boys spent the next two hours bathing you from the mess they'd made of your body.

With feather light touches, Azriel gently ran a soft towel over your sensitive skin.

Sitting between Rhysand's legs, your High Lord washed your hair. When he came across a knot, Rhysand coaxed it free without the harsh tugging they'd previously been doing with it. He'd asked you to recount to him how you'd killed the target. Now that the hard feelings were over, your boys wanted to hear about your success.

After bathing, Cassian presents you with a pre-warmed towel that engulfed your whole being.

Once in bed, your eyes grew warm. "I am sorry. Really. We are a team. I shouldn't have acted on my own."

Rhysand leans down to brush his lips along the bridge of your nose before kissing you. "You don't have to apologize anymore."

Cassian, being your favorite teddy bear, slithers under the sheets with you and pulls you to his expansive chest. He insisted on being first in the cuddling duties. Rhysand and Azriel unfortunately had to finish their own respective duties. But the general was all your's for the rest of the night.

He kisses the crown of your head. "Rest sweetling."

Azriel kisses your cheek before standing tall. "Have sweet dreams."

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses reader insert #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #cassian fanfic #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fanfiction

[captainsophiestark]

To The Stars

Rhysand x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: With war on the horizon, Rhys and his mate have been busier than should be possible, with almost no time to even see each other. But sometimes, to stay sane, you have to make time.

Word Count: 1,064

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I squinted at the words on the paper in front of me, trying to get them to stop blurring. My eyes burned, and my head ached, and before I knew it, I was face down on the desk.

Not the first time it had happened to me, and probably not the last. But the Night Court was basically the only court who had our shit together and stood a chance at stopping Hybern, which meant it was on me and the rest of the Inner Circle to organize what we needed to organize to save the world as we knew it. That tended to lead to a lot of exhaustion.

Even worse, it had left me no time to see my mate, Rhysand, as we were both running around like maniacs, often in different directions. His face floated across my subconscious as I fought to stay awake despite my body begging me to rest my eyes and stay down on the desk. I thought I'd finally lost the battle when I heard his voice, calling my name in his smooth, soothing voice that had come to feel like home. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder, and realized this wasn't an exhaustion-induced dream.

I groaned, slowly dragging myself back into a sitting position as I blinked at Rhys through bleary eyes. He hardly looked better than me, with dark bags under his eyes. Still, he pulled a soft smile onto his face when he looked at me.

"You look about as tired as I feel," he said, voice a little more gravelly than usual. I huffed a sigh.

"I'm absolutely exhausted. But we have to do what it takes to have a chance at winning this war."

"We do."

The silence hung between us for a moment, the massive weight we carried together resting heavily on our shoulders. Then Rhys, my wonderful mate, sighed and gave me a tired smile, running his hand along my cheek.

"Come outside with me."

I raised an eyebrow at him, but his face didn't change. I held his stare, but when his calm expression didn't crack with even a hint of what he was up to, I finally gave in with a sigh of my own.

"Fine. But only because I love you so much. If anyone else was asking me to accompany them for mysterious reasons rather than wading through these papers or sleeping, I would tell them to fuck right off."

"I'll make sure to remember how lucky I am to be met with a different response."

I snorted, at myself more than him, and he shot me a small smile as I got to my feet. He held out a hand and led me out of our bedroom and up the stairs to the roof.

"If we had even a single extra second to string together, I would've told you to close your eyes first," Rhys said, a smile in his voice from ahead of me. I raised an eyebrow, more curious than ever as he stepped out onto the roof of the Velaris townhouse and I followed after him.

Rhysand stared at me with a massive grin on his face, holding his arms out slightly on either side in a 'ta-da' gesture. I looked just past him to find a nest of blankets assembled on the roof, with glasses of sparkling wine waiting for us. A small fire roared in a firepit that hadn't been there the last time I'd checked.

"We have to rest at some point, or so I've been told by every other member of our court. And if I have to take a break, I'd much prefer to take it with you."

I smiled, none of the tiredness leaving me but most of the tension draining away. I crossed the short distance between me and my mate, wrapping my arms around him tightly and breathing in his scent. I could hear his heart beating in his chest, the soft thud mixing with the crackling fire, and for just a moment everything was right with the world.

"How did I get so lucky as to find you?" I asked, a soft smile on my face as I at last pulled back to look at Rhys. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he leaned in until his lips were just a breath away from mine.

"I wonder the same thing, how we could be so lucky to find each other, almost every day that I walk this world," he murmured. My heart swelled, and a heartbeat later Rhys closed the distance between us. I lost myself in his embrace and his soft, tender kiss.

We stayed locked together for a few long moments, then finally, reluctantly, I pulled back. Rhys watched me like a hawk, but I just gave him a little smile.

"We'll have time for that after wine and stargazing," I promised. He sighed, playing it up a little, even as he leaned back.

"I suppose it would be a shame to let it all go to waste."

I winked and gave him one last peck on the cheek, then led him over to the pile of blankets. The two of us made ourselves comfortable, snuggling into the warmth together and staring up at the crystal clear night sky. I sighed, the light from the stars shining out through the darkness above.

"This is beautiful," I murmured. Rhys handed me a glass, which I took, my eyes never leaving the night sky above.

"It really is. It helps, to look at this. To look at Velaris. And you. To... remember what we're fighting for."

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."

I finally tore my eyes away from the starlight overhead to look at my mate, meeting his sparkling eyes. I would go to the absolute ends of the world for him, and I knew he would do the same for me. The road ahead would be hard, against Hybern and the other courts, but how could anything hope to stand against us? Especially when we had the rest of our friends behind us, too.

"To the stars who listen," he said, lifting his glass to mine with a half-smile. I returned the gesture, the soft clink of the glasses ringing out in the night.

"And the dreams that are answered."

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

#sophie's year of fic #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #sarah j maas #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand oneshot #rhysand imagine #actoar oneshot #acotar imagine #velaris #a court of dreams #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #high lord of the night court #high lord rhysand

[officialrhysandweek]

Most Delightful High Lord Incoming In...

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

Rhys week is back for 2024 and with just as much excitement as ever! Please join us in appreciating our wonderful Rhys from August 18th through the 24th!

Prompts coming soon, see you guys in August!

#rhysandweek2024 #rhysand #pro rhysand #high lord rhysand #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand acotar #acotar

[noctumbra]

             D I S C L A I M E R 

✵ works listed below might contain explicit content. read at your own risk. no minors, please. make sure to read the warnings before you proceed with reading the fics. 

✵ this masterlist will include works from a court of thorns and roses series, throne of glass series and crescent city series ─ the whole sarah j. maas universe. it might contain spoilers from the books. 

✵ the works might be happening in the same universe as the books, or they might be written as alternate universe. i will specify it in the author’s note section. 

✵ the works i will be posting will include reader insert and book couples (such as feysand, rowaelin etc). 

✵ i do not have a tag list. you can turn on the notifications for @cuddlewrites​​ for fic updates only. 

             C H A R A C T E R S

✵ COMING SOON...

✵ COMING SOON...

✵ COMING SOON...

✵ LONG LIVE (ALL THE MAGIC WE MADE)

            ─ masterlist will be updated as i post the fics and/or add more characters ─

#azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #azriel fanfiction #rhysand fanfiction #ruhn danaan fanfiction #acotar #cc #a court of thorns and roses #crescent city #masterlist #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn fanfiction

[stargazingfordreams]

The stars that missed The Sun

Nyx x Reader

Warning- arrange marriage, cute stuff.

A/N- Hey guys I'm sorry this took so long I had to rewrite this a few times. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter but I hope you guys like this

Part one, Part two

Chapter three

Over the last few weeks, Nyx has been amazing, kind, and patient. I couldn’t even repay him in a hundred years. So then, what are we waiting for? Every night I would go to my bed, and he would go to his. There was something in me that I couldn’t quite place, something that always found its way back, that feeling of not knowing if he was even interested in me at all, and maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was only interested in this marriage to be a friendship, and when the time came, I would give him heirs. Would he have a mistress to satisfy him, and would I have mine? I couldn’t get a read on him or his feelings. I couldn't even understand what I felt, but the thought of Nyx having a mistress made me nauseous and unsettled.

Nyx’s family had their monthly dinner tonight. All of us gathered at the river house. I was getting out of the tub and into my bedroom to get ready for the evening, where I saw a dress laid out for me with a note.

Since you loved Abrail’s dresses so much, I had her make you more. I thought this one would be perfect for dinner. -Nyx,

I smiled. I put my dress and jewelry on and couldn’t wait to show him; I didn’t think to knock on his door, so I walked right in.

“This dress is-” I hadn’t even made it through the door frame. I stopped every thought because of the sight in front of me. He had just gotten out of the bath with only his underwear on. He was in the middle of putting his pants on. I watched as he slipped them on and bottomed them. My eyes made their way up from his torso to his tattooed chest and, finally, met his eyes and smile that held too much amusement.

“It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he said as he pulled his shirt over his head and found his jacket.

“I… I… I just wanted to say thank you,” I stumbled over the words.

“For the dress or the sneak peek,” he smirked at me.

“We are going to be late,” I tried to change the subject. But, instead, he raised an eyebrow, and I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to school my face into something neutral.

He had finished putting his shoes on and walking up to me as if sizing me up for a fight. He leaned against the doorframe a mere inch away from me.

“Don’t look at me like that firefly” he leaned in close as if to kiss me.

“Like what?” my voice barely came out as a whisper.

“As if you want me” He knew the effect he was having on me, and he didn’t care; I didn’t care all I knew was that I became all too aware of my body. I stayed silent.

“Well, do you?” he asked, still close to me.

“Do I what?” I wasn’t even sure I was speaking.

“Want me?” he said. I wanted to lean in and kiss those lips once again to taste them. His lips brushed past mine, just a small graze.

“But you’re right, we will be late” he changed his tone and smiled in my direction, moving around me to leave his room. I stood there in shock, not knowing what to do.

- - - - - - – - - - - - - -

We had winnowed into his parent’s home. I moved from his arms. After what happened to be that close to him wouldn’t be a good idea, especially with his parents in the other room. I looked around the foyer that we had landed in. I hadn’t been to his parent’s home before. The front entrance opens to a grand hall with winding staircases to the upper levels of the house. Everything was so beautiful in the way it was decorated. A family portrait of everyone hung there. My brother was even in it, and then another of just the High lord, High lady, and their kids, but there were small paintings in frames on the entry table. One stuck out to me, though. It was a baby boy sitting on a deep blue blanket with a head raven black hair and blue eyes with the chunkiest of smiles that was nothing but gums.

“Is this you?” I asked Nyx. as I picked up the photo to take a better look.

“You were so chunky. Oh my gods, look at those rolls,” I gleamed as he chuckled beside me.

“He was the greediest of my children, which would explain those cheeks,” The voice came from behind me. I turned to see High lady Feyre and High lord Rhysand approaching us.

“I’m afraid not much has changed. You should see how much he eats for breakfast alone,” I joke. He smiled down at me, pulling me to his side. Rhysand had looked at me with a puzzled look, then back at his son, who only nodded—nodded at what? Were they having a conversion within their minds? Feyre looked at Rhysand once again. Her eyes widened, but she composed herself as if trying not to give away her excitement. I looked up at Nyx. to see if I could read his face but nothing.

“Are we going to eat or what? I’m starving over here” Cassian entered and broke up whatever was happening. Feyre chuckled, and Rhysand shook his head.

“I would hurry. Morrigan has already started on the wine.”Amren made her way over and looked me up and down. I didn’t flinch under her gaze as she looked back at Nyx and me.

“Well, come along between Cassian and Mor. If we don’t hurry, there won’t be any food or wine left for the rest of us.” Rhysand led us into the dining room; I sat across from Nyx on the couches, who gave me a flirtatious smirk. My thoughts drifted, and I thought about his lips again and the sight of his body and what I wanted to do with it. I shift in my seat carefully and calm my body in this room full of fae before they catch wind of desire through my smell and thoughts.

Don’t worry, firefly. Only I can hear your naughty thoughts. I made sure of it. He was having a conversation with Nesta, who was next to him. While I was still standing by the window. You couldn’t even tell that he was in my mind. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I wouldn’t let him see that I was affected by him again, so I kept my tone as unbothered as possible.

That is the first time tonight that you have been a gentleman.

You are right that I was rude to leave things like I’m sorry earlier. How would you like me to make it up to you?

A smile made its way to my lips as the perfect opportunity came.

I can think of a few ways. So that’s what I did; I imagined me and Nyx intertwined with nothing between us, his lips on my skin trailing kisses down my neck to my breasts as he moved lower and lower.

That’s cruel of you, firefly. His tone in my mind grew dark. I was pleased with myself, smiling as I picked up and drank from my glass. Nyx’s presence left my mind. That’s when his siblings and cousins came in.

“There’s my new sister,” A girl with blonde hair and Violet eyes embraced me in a soul-crushing hug.

“You’re about to break your new sister Astrid,” another girl said; she had dark brown hair and steel blue eyes.

“Welcome to the Family. I know we haven’t spoken since the wedding, but a certain future high lord has had all of us running ragged with missions since then,” Astrid, Nyx’s sister, spoke while she held annoyance in her tone. Nyx paid her no mind but gave her a simple hand wave.

“I’m sure you remember Lyra,” she gestures to the beautiful woman beside her. She towered over me, and though she looked intimidating, she waved me a friendly smile, making her look even more attractive. I had to remind myself that I am a married woman now.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Lyra said to me as she nodded. She looked so much like her mother. It was scary.

“Where are the rest of you?” Feyre asked.

“They’re coming, mother; you know you can’t trust those boys to be on time for anything” Astrid looped her arm in mine and closed her hand around my fingers. Not long after, the rest of the inner circle children, along with Azriel, Gwyn, Luicen, and Elain, showed up.

“Great, now that everyone is here, we can finally eat,” Rhysand said, and we all made our way to our seats and began to eat. Conversation flowed throughout dinner. Whenever I tried to speak to Lucien, he would brush off what I asked or not answer. It started to get to me that I was trying so hard to talk to him, and he couldn’t even bother.

“Your dress looks lovely dear. Where did you get it from?” The question had come from Elain, and it had taken me aback only because her mate, my brother, had seemed determined to avoid me for the evening.

“Oh, there is a shop by the bridge. The owner Abrail makes amazing dresses. I can take you there one day if you're not busy?” I said to her,

“Elain always has time to shop,” Nesta teased jokingly with her sister. It reminded me of how I was with mine. A homesick feeling washed over me, causing me to grow distant. My family, I had almost forgotten how much I missed them and my home. My early morning rides on my pegasus, my sisters at dinner, and my father. How could I have forgotten them? How could I have forgotten my oldest sister, who was no longer here? I’m enjoying the life she would have had with Nyx. I must have been quiet for too long because when I looked up, I saw Nyx looking at me with worry.

Are you alright? I didn’t answer him though

“Sorry, would you all excuse me” I stood up and left before anyone had the chance, To say anything.

#acowar #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #nesta archeron #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #cassian acotar #feyre cursebreaker #cassian x reader #female writers #rhysand fanfiction #rhys x feyre #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #nyx acheron x oc #nyx acotar #feyre archeron #nyx archeron #nesta acotar #high lady of the night court #nessian #nesta #nesta x cassian #night court #nyx archeron x blackoc #nyx x reader #lucien vanserra #high lords of prythian #high lady feyre

[saphirered]

Hi!! Could I please request a newly mated Rhysand? 😍

I got a little carried away with this one. Warnings for smut. Very freshly mated during this fic and of course we have to haunt the Court of Nightmares a little bit with some shenanigans. Enjoy! 😘

Happy lives make for poor stories, or so you’d told Rhysand when you became more acquainted. You were exactly everything he could do without in his life back then; high ambitions, an unwillingness to compromise, a decent moral compass though easily discarded when the goals outweigh the means, a mind weaponised and an appearance to match. He knew you’d be trouble the moment he laid eyes on you and from that moment he knew he was screwed because despite all alarm bells, against all better judgement he felt himself gravitating towards you and he found; you have a good heart, a truly good heart. Even now, the Court of Nightmares has gathered for a banquet in your honour and you have the guts to be fashionably late, leave all the dimwits and fools wait simply because it is some petty payback for those who would rather see failure, see his failure. Fear and cruelty are the only things these people respond to and you are daring them to lash out, to test you and remind them this time, it is you who is in control. If that isn’t a turn on, Rhysand doesn’t know what is. Finally the doors open and in you stroll. He’s doomed. Completely and utterly doomed. 

The throne room falls quiet, not but the clicking of your heels against the stonework echoing throughout. The crowd parts for you, creating a direct path towards him. Rhysand leans his chin on his curled fingers, trademark smirk studies your every move, your wicked stare that promises mayhem, the sway of your hips, garments formfitting and bordering inappropriate. You’d made a conscious choice to be a menace today. He supposes he should not expect anything less from his mate. He had suggested a quiet night in, somewhere far away from this world, this life. You’d made a counter offer of the opposite; a grand feast in the lion’s den. Leave it to you to suggest a power play against the Court of Nightmares; your first public act together and marking the beginning of your lives together. He’d argued that perhaps the cabin up in the mountains would be better suited for the activities after the completion of your bond. But when you retorted that you had no opposition to an audience. Eyes did not have to be present for your coupling of course, but plenty of ears would hear even behind closed doors. Let them hear. Let the whole court know for all you care. Though you made clear you’d not mind the time or place as long as you shared it with him. He gave it some thought and the images he’d seen in your mind, the ones you pushed towards him left him in agreement with you, and somewhat hot and bothered; something you’d apologised for and took care of on your own terms. He did not complain. 

Not once do Rhys’ eyes leave you, not when you size up the crowd, not when your wicked grin spreads at the eyes on you, ranging from reverence to disgust. Good. Perfect. The crowd closes behind you, cutting off the path to the doors once more but you have no eyes for what lays behind you. You feel that burning stare, that gentle tether that pulls you closer towards the steps of that throne atop which sits the violet eyed devil himself. 

“You’re late.” The voice in your mind seems amused. You don’t fight a smile.

“Fashionably on time. Don’t blame me for your lack of dramatic entrance.” Rhys’ laughter echoes through your mind even though his face displays nothing but smugness. Finally you make it to the steps in front of which you stand back straight head held high. He straightens himself in his seat. The crowd does not dare whisper but waits in suspense. You take another step forward, and then another, up the stairs until you’re on the platform. 

“You know it’s customary to kneel before your High Lord, or have did you decide to leave your manners in our chambers?” At the top of the steps, but a few feet from him you bow, deeply and give him an ample view of what you up on display oh so intentionally. Tease. 

“If you wanted me on my knees you should have just said so, my dear.” You muse and Rhysand doesn’t respond. He gets up from the throne and covers the short distance between you two until his boots are within your vision. His fingers lift your chin until you’re staring up at him. Eyes defiant, plump lips slightly parted, and all in all you are a vision that promises mischief. Rhysand is tempted to dismiss the court and take you right here right now. Or perhaps he he’d neglect dismissing them and see how many of them will favour disappearing as he extracts every moan and whine from you he can. The thought is certainly tempting but the satisfaction of dragging this out for just a little while longer makes the end goal all the sweeter. 

“Excuse my tardiness, High Lord. I was seeing to some final preparations for the day’s events.” The insinuation of that statement gains plenty of chastised expressions as it does blushes and looks of disgust. Rhys urges you to rise and you do. He strokes the side of your face until his hand cups your cheek. You lean into the touch, tilting your head at an angle ever so slightly and look through your lashes; an invitation. His lips press to yours. The kiss is anything but chaste. It is heated, leaving a longing for more. You feel his hand press against the small of your back, pushing you closer against him and you curl yourself into his form, wrapping your arms around his neck. Managing to extract a muffled moan from you when the hand on your back wanders lower, he pulls away and leaves you pouting, brushing away a stray curl. 

“Your punishment will be determined later.” That is a promise. You resist the urge to scoff. “I think we’ve let them wait long enough, darling. Let the banquet begin.” He takes your hand in his, and guides you along to the head of the table. There’d been a seat at the other end; set up for a High Lord’s partner as opposed to a spot on his left side, but Rhysand has no intentions of letting you sit so far away from him. Instead he guides you along to his seat, sits down in his throne-like chair and you do not miss a beat, sitting down on his lap sideways, back to the arm of the chair, and legs draped over the other, as he rests an arm around your back settling on your waist. Keir, at his right side looks ready to oppose but it takes a single look from his High Lord to shut him up; this is nonnegotiable and right now you and Rhys can make the Darkbringer commander’s existence a whole lot more miserable. 

Plenty try to ignore the elephant in the room. Others have simply accepted this is just how it’s going to be. And some cannot look away for a variety of reasons. The High Lord and his mate engage in rather intimate displays of affection to which the whispers are but innocent and the wandering hands and gentle caresses are only so much away from bedroom habits. Rhysand has been careful to display anything truly loving and soft in fear of a weakness shown to these animals waiting for the opportune moment to strike but you are his mate. No one would be so stupid to make a such a reckless move. You’d assured him all would be well, had teased him enough to have him forget about showing that softer side and lean into your provocative intentions, enable them and retort with his own. He’d seen and felt the growing displeasure of some of his courtiers and it’d became a fun game with you to see how far you could push them, which one would break first and speak up. Your money was on Keir. You’d actively been gunning for him to try and get him to break but he’d proven more resilient than even Rhys expected. Though, you’d be right. 

“Enough of this. If you wish to fuck your mate, do so but dismiss the court. This is a disgrace.” The male grumbles in disgust making you pull away from Rhysand amused.

“I win.” You muse leaning your head against his shoulder as you cross your legs, playing with the lapel of his jacket. Minx. Rhys turns his attention begrudgingly away from you and is forced to face his uncle. That doesn’t stop him from brushing his fingers up and down the outside of your thigh higher up to your hip with each passage, feeling the goosebumps form at the light touch. 

“I’ll dismiss this court when I feel like it, Keir. Remember your place.” There’s no warmth in his voice, not like the words he’s spoken to you, only the dead of winter remains in that tone, in his eyes, across his features. This is the High Lord of the Night Court showing he does what he wants and is not to be questioned. The Darkbringer opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. First his glare is directed at the High Lord but quickly it turns to you when he sees your fingers moving and still, and with it hold his ability to speak. “You were saying?” Rhys seems almost disappointed at the lack of reply, and indifferent to the choked sound that does escape Keir’s lips when you decide to squeeze on that invisible hold just a little tighter. The majority of the table has stopped eating, all eyes falling on this display, anticipating what will come next. 

“I’m sure the steward had nothing but the best intentions at heart, my love.” You kiss along the underside of Rhysand’s jaw as you cast your eyes to the crowd. 

“I suppose they do look a bit… shall we say bothered?” Rhys muses and you feel a pinch to your hip but cover your response, and let your hold on Keir drop. The male breathes as if he never had before, bracing himself on the table. “Well then. Do you wish to leave and skip this celebration of my charming, beautiful, benevolent mate?” With the promise of death he gazes over the courtiers. Silence looms as the tension rises. No one dares respond. Even Keir has gone silent again, though he bites his tongue with an equal venom in his gaze as you offer the male. Rhys goes to kiss you again, if only to make a statement but you stop him, and simply peck his cheek before your rise from his lap, and step up onto the table, careful to avoid the grand dishes and plates. You make sure to look at your guests, stare each and every one of them in the eye as your mate studies you, as you put on this display. You bend down in front of a male; blonde hair, grey eyes expression unreadable like a properly schooled member of the Court of Nightmares. 

“Does all of this make you uncomfortable?” You hum with a kindness that this court regards as a mercy before the axe. The male takes a deep breath but doesn’t respond. You just hum displeased and rise again. “I believe your High Lord asked you all a question.” You turn on your heels gracefully and grin wickedly at Rhys who simply offers his hand in your direction even though you’re some distance away. You reply to his summons and slowly make your way back over to him. He rises and helps you off the table onto the floor. He breaks away from your gaze, and back is the coldness. 

“Out. Now.” They don’t need to be told twice. Some winnow, others rush as the doors are opened and every single soul present in this hall makes themselves scarce until it’s just the two of you left, until those doors fall closed once more. 

“Dare I say that was a success?” You grin and the answer is provided in action as opposed to word. In a swift motion the plates, cutlery and glasses are pushed away, clearing the table space. You’re lifted off the ground by your thighs, wrapping your legs around Rhysand’s hips as he sets you on the table as his lips brush along your cheek and jawline, until they dip lower, down your neck licking and kissing and sucking until you make the little sounds you do, until your pleased laugh turns to a moan. 

“Very much. That was quite the display. Though the game’s over now.” He smiles against your throat as he pulls your hips closer against him, until you feel him pressing against you, feel his excitement. You pull him away from your neck, cup his face stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Oh the game has just begun, my love.” You smile sweetly, letting your hands drop to his chest, playing with the closures of that perfect jacket until he grasps them in his. 

“We have a bond to complete, don’t we?” Those words spark a fire within you, despite the fact you play innocent. You know he peers through that pretence with ease. You’ve let your walls down after all, invited him to witness your every thought unfiltered. 

“No foreplay?” You joke as you pull back. You push him down by his shoulders until he is seated once more. When you feel his fingers brush up your thighs, sliding beneath the fabric of your attire you simply cross your legs tutting. 

“Must you torture me so? Have you not had your fill with the court?” He jests as with a wave of your hand a covered dish appears off to your side. Despite its cover Rhysand is instantly reminded of something homey, something comforting. Never has he felt it, or thought himself capable of feeling this here in the Court of Nightmares. When you pull away the cover it becomes stronger, the scent of spices and herbs perfectly mixed with the ingredients to create a delicious looking curry. You bend back to grab a spoon and take the bowl in your other hand. 

“Don’t make me lose my patience.” You roll your eyes only to be replied with a pinch to your thigh leaving you gasping. “You know, we could just postpone a little longer.” You can barely speak those words even if they are a joke. You want to get this over with too at this point. All standing in your way of solidifying this mating bond is that curry you prepared. 

“Of course we could.” Rhysand does not miss your tone and the aversion at the mere thought of delaying this union even longer. He shares your sentiment. 

“Another week?” You suggest as you heap a spoon full of rice and curry. 

“Why not a month?” He retorts and you’ve had enough. You push the spoon to his lips, parting at your offering and successfully shutting up any further witty comment or retort. 

For the first time in a very long time, or perhaps even ever Rhysand feels his mind quiet, peaceful and void of all distraction. His focus is only on this beautiful creature that sits in front of him. Everything around him ceases to matter because this world is not the one for him if it lacks his mate; the one who loves him unconditionally, who knows him, who accepts him, the one who looks past his horrors, and holds him when the dark becomes too much, who embraces him when he comes to fear what lies ahead, when he loses courage and the path to true darkness is as easy as it is tempting. You reminded him he’s a fighter not because you push him to fight, but because you gave him something worth fighting for. Everything just makes sense, even if he doesn’t have the answers. Everything just feels right and as it should be. 

He sees your eyes, waiting for a further response and equally dazed at first to come to these realisations, but there’s that serenity; a calm in the storm that surrounds the two of you. He sees your eyes, sees through them and stares straight into your heart and he knows that it holds a love to be true, he knows part of his heart will always be with you no matter where he goes, and the knowledge that part of your heart will be with him, it is comforting and reassuring. You will always have each other. When this world crumbles, he will stand beside you and it would be a damn good life. You put the empty bowl aside, spoon with it and breathe. The rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your lungs expanding and retracting, every twitch of muscle he’s aware of it all. You cross your legs a little tighter rubbing your thighs together as your hands collect in your lap hesitantly. Rhysand reaches out, takes your hands in his, and brings them to his lips pressing a kiss to your palms and knuckles lovingly. He might feel that frenzy in his veins spark to life further, and by the looks of you too but that does not mean he cannot be loving, cannot show you how much he appreciates you, cherishes you and above all; loves you. 

“This is it.” You breathe. His fingers trail up your arm until they settle on your neck and cup your face. He stands and you finally uncross your legs, allow him to step in between. Ever so sweetly does he plant his lips against yours.

“This is it.” He kisses you once more, lets his hands wander, but careful to avoid any sensitive areas just yet but not missing the opportunity to spark shivers within you, when they trail down your sides and come to rest on your hips. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table, fingers brushing up and down your thighs, inching closer to the inside, inching closer to your apex and leaving you short of breath in anticipation already. He looks you straight in the eye, ever so close, takes in every response. He hasn’t even touched you proper yet as you fight the urge to lean into that gentle touch, so terribly close to where you want him to venture. 

“What do you want?” He asks. The question is not lewd nor innocent. It seems so trivial yet so meaningful.

“You.” You gasp as he brushes along those sensitive nerves. A soothing kiss finds its way to your cheek where you can feel the curl of his lips form a smile. You bring your own hands up to cup his face and hold him in place. “I want you and I’d like to have you now.” One of your hands trails down his chest, lower and lower. His breath catches when you brush over the straining fabric of his trousers and feel him twitch. 

Rhysand has other plans. While he certainly appreciates your advances and has every intention of taking you on this table he’ll be patient. He strokes along the apex of your thighs, but halts your own hand settling on him. He tuts and trails kisses along your neck down, lets his teeth graze across your bare skin, pushing aside the fabric that barely covered you in the first place, until he kneels between your legs. A kiss sucks along the supple skin, and another, and another. Your hand settle within his hair, brushing through, as he holds onto your hips, keeps you from moving too much. You are so sensitive at this point, your breathing already laboured from the littlest attention, and the knowledge of what is to come. You relish in it, when you moan his name, and whine when he pulls away those skilled fingers all too soon. 

You feel his chuckle against the skin of your thigh, and finally he obliges, finally you feel his lips kiss that final path to your centre, where they settle, where his tongue flicks and teases you so. He has the gall to look up at you amidst your pleasure, and show that cockiness knowing he can make you feel this good. Before at each hint of you getting close to release he slows down or pulls away entirely, but then finally when you struggle against that hold on your hips, when you wrap your legs draped over his shoulder and cross your ankles, your moans turn into whines and you all but beg for release, that’s when he finally gives it to you and leaves you wholly breathless. He lets you ride out the waves of pleasure until the built up tension fades, and your breathing calms. Only then does he pull away slowly. He would have let you settle, before he would extract another orgasm from you, and another, but you have something else in mind and who is he to refuse to you these demands. You unwrap your legs from him, make him rise. 

“Take it off. Now.” You demand winded. He laughs, but you grasp the lapel and pull him closer against you, wrap your legs around his hips and grind yours into him. To no surprise you feel his presence, feel the self restraint he’s been holding onto for your own pleasure and you seek to destroy that restraint. 

“As you wish.” He begins undoing the buttons of his jacket but goes too slow according to you because before he knows it you’re helping him discard the garment as well as the shirt beneath. Electricity sparks through his body when he feels but the faintest brush of your fingers against his abdomen when pulling the garment over his head. He knows it’s intentional simply by the look you give him and so in turn, whatever scraps may have been covering you, he tears away, leaving you truly exposed to the cold air. You undo the closures of his trousers and pull him free; revenge, as you wrap your fingers around him and give a slow stroke. You place your hands on his shoulders after he casts aside the final constraining fabrics leaving you both completely and utterly bare. You feel him press against your entrance, the sensation alone extracting a gasp, eyes shooting to his in ecstasy and wanton. 

“Fuck me.” Another order and one he would oblige, pushing his hips forward. A court embarrassed. A mating ceremony completed and now the celebration of this union between the two of you. You were meant for each other. 

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #rhys acotar #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand

[dawneternal]

What Can't Be Undone

✴ a one shot inspired by the theory that Elain reminds Rhys of his sister

✴ word count: 1.1k

✴ warnings: grief, loss, nightmares

✴ Hespera Masterlist

Rhysand woke to a room cloaked in starry midnight. His eyes scanned the room for threats, heart beating so quickly it ached in his chest. He was too warm, skin sticky with sweat.

Thunder rumbled, rattling the glass of the windows. It took him a moment to understand that it hadn't come from himself, but the summer storm approaching Velaris. He held his breath, glancing toward Nyx's bassinet, but the wards had held. The sound hadn't gotten through and his son was still asleep, his little face peaceful and silver with moonlight.

His gaze shifted toward the bed. The space beside him was empty and the anxiety rattled even harder against his ribs. He knew Feyre was only at the House of Wind with Nesta. But he needed her now.

Before he could stop himself, Rhys was out of bed and tugging on clothes. His nightmare and the real world were still merged, horror crawling down his spine. In this strange version of the world, a pair of glowing purple eyes overlapped with a pair of shining hazel ones. The sharp sting of loss filled every inch of him, coursing through his veins like his night-kissed power.

He was running down the hall, barely registering the thoughts of how stupid this would look and how foolish he would feel in the morning. He didn't care. He couldn't care. Not with the panic and the grief warring for space in his mind. And worse, something deep in his gut was clawing for a shred of hope. He fought for it, chest heaving. Because accepting the truth would hurt more than he could bear.

If Feyre were here, or Cassian, or Az, they would help him slide back into reality. But they weren't here and he stuck in this world of rumbling darkness. This rendition of the truth, created by his nightmare.

Trembling fingers grasped the doorknob to Elain's room and swung the door open wide. Lightning illuminated her form as she shot upright, fear written across her features. Thunder rolled again and Rhys jumped, scurrying toward her. Elain's shoulders sagged as she realized it was just him, though her brows furrowed at the wild gleam in his eyes, the sheen of sweat on his torso as he struggled for a breath.

"What's wrong? Is it Nyx?" She pulled back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Another flash of lightning ignited the amber of her eyes.

When he saw it, the honey brown that was supposed to be violet, Rhys crumbled. He dropped to his knees by Elain's bed, the harsh thud of his landing coinciding with another wave of thunder. When the sound faded, Rhys's sobs filled the room. He bent forward slowly to rest his forehead on Elain's knees.

She was still for a moment, processing the High Lord coming undone at her feet. Then she silently reached toward her sister, hoping the message made it to her, before pushing Rhysand back with gentle hands so she could kneel in front of him. She wrapped her arms around him, letting him weep into her shoulder. An image drifted into her mind and she didn't know if it had come from her own gifts or if Rhys had shared it with her. Wherever it came from, it sent a wave of aching grief so strong it pulled tears from her own eyes. 

The heart-shaped face of a winged girl, blushing and laughing. Her golden skin and thick black eyebrows matched Rhysand's. Her eyes the same shade of violet, flecked with stars. Unruly black curls bounced over her shoulders. She was so young. Younger than Feyre had been when she'd gone over the wall with Tamlin. Elain could see her youth and promise, possibility wreathing her like a halo. As brilliant and glowing as her brother's power.

"Hespera," Rhysand croaked, grasping fistfuls of Elain's nightgown. Her jasmine scent filled his nose and pulled another choked cry out of him. It was not Hespera's scent. Not the smell of summer nights and moonflower he'd likely never experience again. 

Elain's heart broke in two as she understood. He had come looking for her. He would not find her, would never find her again.

Rhys had told her once that she reminded him of his sister. It had filled her chest with warmth, made her eyes gleam with the honor, though a part of her had wondered if he was just being nice. 

Now, she knew it was true. As he had rushed in his half-awake state to her room, to the closest thing in this living world he could find to Hespera. Mind hazy from his dream, he had forgotten she was gone. She had framed felt it before, the jumbled mess of emotions that came from dreaming of one you've lost.

"I'm sorry," Elain whispered, threading her fingers through his own inky hair and cradling his head. The floorboards dug into her knees and snagged against her nightgown but she did not move, only reached toward Feyre again. "I'm so sorry." 

Elain couldn't guess how long they stayed like that, Rhysand enveloped in grief as the storm raged outside. She listened carefully for Nyx but he seemed to be sleeping through it all and she thanked the Mother for it. 

Then she heard the snap of an incoming winnow and hurried footsteps on the stairs. Feyre ran past Elain's open door, doubling back when she registered what she'd seen. She stopped in the doorway, eyes drifting over her mate in Elain's arms, the panic in her eyes turning into sorrow. 

"Feyre's here," Elain whispered as Feyre sat on the floor with them. Rhysand released Elain, looking at Feyre with such devastation in his red-rimmed eyes. Feyre held his face in her hands, brushing away the tears, murmuring comfort. 

Elain wondered how her sister could stand even a fraction of the grief he must be sending through the bond. Her thoughts flashed toward her own mate, wondering if he had ever experienced such an episode and held it in so as not to send it to her unwittingly. It was another wave of pain in her already twisted heart.

She stood and walked toward the door a little numbly. Tea. Tea might help. 

"Thank you," Feyre whispered over her shoulder at Elain, tears falling freely down her cheeks. 

Elain nodded, not bothering to wipe away her own. For the millionth time, she cursed the cauldron for the power it had thrust upon her. This time, though, she did not wish to be human again. She wished for more. Something greater than her visions, greater than either of her sister's stolen powers. Something that could reverse the cruel death of Rhysand's sister. Or something that could help her dole the most fitting justice. She would send that vengeance to the afterlife, if she must.

Just as Nesta hadn't seen the silver glow of power in her own eyes, Elain could not see the golden light of her own. 

#acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand #rhysand fic #rhysand fanfic #rhysand fanfiction #elain acotar #elain archeron fanfic #elain archeron #elain archeron fanfiction #rhys acotar #rhysand sister #rhysands sister #rhysand!sister #rhys!sister #hespera

[adreamof-spring]

Warnings: torture, mass death, murder Rhysand has been made aware of a brewing unrest in the Hewn City. Dissidents give quarter to former soldiers of Hybern, and whisper for their High Lord and Lady's demise. These accusations cannot go unanswered. Rhys is determined to find out the truth of it, and remind those who would stand with his enemies that he is the most powerful High Lord of Prythian.

Written for RhysandWeek2023. Day 3, prompt: Most Powerful High Lord. @officialrhysandweek

The room was packed with the affluent and moneyed denizens of the Hewn City. Voices boomed, each louder than the last—angrier than the last.

“And now he breeds with a woman, not a true high fae. A former mortal of the human realms.”

“No more than an upstart wench with a title.”

“Filthy mongrel—”

“Quiet!”

Rhysand watched silently as the remarks and accusations flit through the room, marking each face as their insidious words spewed like filth from the sewers. His face was concealed by a low-hanging hood as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the throne room with the High Fae around him.

He had veiled himself and his power, blending seamlessly into the crowd and shadows as nothing more than another lavish dissident that rocked the room with vicious mockery.

Azriel had told him of a growing unrest, a possible rebellion that festered in the bowels of the Hewn City. From the moment he became the High Lord of the Night Court, they’d resented his authority—his lineage. Tradition demanded that the High Fae rule, pure high fae, not one with Illyrian blood. Lesser blood.

His crown had only ever been tenuously accepted by the citizens through the stewardship of Keir, thankless, feckless Keir.

Keir who stood at the dais, just before the carved ebony throne of Rhysand’s line, and spewed measured vitriol and treason.

And though the citizens had resigned themselves long ago to Rhysand’s lordship, his marriage and newborn son had shaken them to their core, fomenting nothing but a new wave of dissent. They would see him dethroned, and his wife and child cast aside.

And that was unacceptable. They could bemoan and detest his rule, but they could not plot insurrection and revile his mate and his child. Azriel had reported that there were soldiers of Hybern who had found quarter here after they fled the field. The thought alone filled Rhysand with an icy, bitter rage.

In his anger, Rhys had considered wiping the Hewn City off the face of the map, but Feyre, his darling, even-handed Feyre, had stayed his hand. ‘There are dreamers even in the darkest of places, and I will not have them lost to the schemes of traitors,’ she had said. So rather than leveling the mountain and every vile traitor beneath it, he would find the serpent in the gutters of his city and flush them out, one by one. And, Rhysand suspected, he knew just where to start.

Treachery would not go unpunished.

Rhysand slipped through the crowd, pushing closer to the front. Fae after fae bandied their ire, voices rising as their frustrations grew. Keir had galvanized the room with a mastery that even Rhys found himself impressed with.

“Our High Lord shames this glorious city, just as he shames the hallowed crown upon his head. He breeds with filth, and expects us to follow an heir born of human stock.” Keir spit, eyes burning with fury and outrage. His voice was a low baritone as he added almost conspiratorially, “I refuse the authority of such questionable pedigree. Someday...someday he and his brood shall meet a most unwelcome end, of that I will guarantee.”

In one breath, Keir had crossed the line from dissent to mutiny. It was bold—deathly bold, to stand in Rhysand’s very own throne room and speak of such open treason.

The male in front of him muttered his agreement to Keir’s statements. Casually, Rhys reached up and splayed his fingers against the back of the male’s head, and with sudden spark his body burst into sheets of viscous red.

The crowd heaved away in confusion, eyes turned toward Rhys where he still stood with his arm outstretched.

Blood trailed from his hand and down his arm, soaking deep into his sleeves. He was covered in the male’s innards, but thought little of it. Rhys took a step forward, hands coming to draw the hood off of his face. With a gasp the crowd parted for him, fear draining their pallid faces. One by one they scrambled for the doors, grasping and clawing to pry them open, but Rhys had sealed them shut in anticipation of this moment.

Trapped. They were all of them trapped within the throne room with their Lord of Nightmares—a lord they had just openly plotted against.

Rhysand prowled forward, each step a slow, languid thing. He took the steps up the dais one at a time, and when he was just before that grotesque, ebony throne—his throne—he swept his arm out with a regal flourish. The midnight cloak he’d been wearing turned to mist and shadow as it slithered down his arms and through his hands. Tendrils of black coasted to the floor and pooled around his feet. Smoke writhed and curled from his broad shoulders until great, black wings rose out of the large panes of his back.

Slowly, he turned to face the crowd, to drink in their fear and terror at the sight before them. “I gather you all seek an audience with your High Lord?” His voice was made of satin and silk, a beautiful, seductive caress

Keir had gone unnaturally still. Fear creased the lines of his face, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Well now that I’m here, shall we?” Rhys lowered himself into his throne, wings tucking in carefully. Powerful legs stretched wide as his fingers steepled. He leaned back casually, the perfect picture of bored indolence.

The room was silent as the grave, a far cry from the impassioned cries just minutes before.

Rhys cocked his head, eyes sweeping over the assembled. “Come now, you all had so much to say.” His voice was playful, teasing; like a cat with a mouse. But they’d forgotten how to speak, rancid tongues shriveling in their mouths. Rhys looked to Keir now. “As steward of the Hewn City, surely you can speak on their behalf.”

Keir’s throat bobbed, his bold and brave words swallowed by cowardice. “M’lord...” he began, but he lapsed into tentative silence once more before trying again. “It was nothing, nothing but petty frustrations...no harm was meant.”

Rhys hummed low, the sound of it more akin to a growl. “What? How are you to guarantee mine and my brood's most unwelcome end, as you put it?” Violet eyes glittered with the promise of violence. There was no answer.

Rhysand sighed. “You see, I give you an inch, and you take a mile. It was my darling wife that opened your borders to that of more than just Velaris. She was the one that proposed new trade agreements and free movement from this city into the rest of my court. All of you were free to explore the vastness of this land outside your decrepit city, to build a society under this mountain that could move past your regressive traditions. But instead you chose to whisper dissent, harbor enemies of your High Lord and Lady, former warriors of Hybern.” Rhysand searched every last face before him. “You chose treason.” The weight of the word settled like the foundations of the very mountain the city was carved of.

Keir blanched and wrung his hands, pale skin going remarkably paler.

“I wonder, Keir, if you were the ruler of an independent Hewn City, how would you charge such conspirators?”

“I...a lord would investigate to come to the truth of such things...to see if there was any real risk—” a sudden shriek tore from Keir’s lungs and he crumpled to the floor on his knees. Rhysand flicked his fingers as he squeezed Keir’s organs from the inside out.

“Speak plainly to me. I tire of your duplicity.”

Keir sucked in a breath of air between his teeth, eyes blazing. “You...you desecrate your title. You’ve made a mockery of this court by parading that bitch as if she had any real authority.” Venom gushed from his mouth, the loathing behind them palpable. “You are no true High Lord, and the Hewn City rejects you, you and that farce you call a family.”

Ah, there it was. The true Keir, just as poisonous as Rhysand remembered him. Rhys smiled then, a cruel and terrible curve to that sensual mouth of his. Come and play, darling, he whispered down the bond that linked Feyre to himself.

The air around them whipped and distorted, wind lashing until the High Lady herself stepped out of the torrent of shadows like a beautiful spectre of the night. She stood tall, back straight and chin raised. Rhysand couldn’t help but trail his eyes down her full form. She wore a dress of midnight black silk with a daring neckline that plunged all the way to her navel. Smooth, powerful thighs and long legs were exposed by the slit in the skirt that tracked all thew way to her hips. His fingers itched to run a line up the lovely skin of her thighs and beneath the panel of that skirt.

Rhys held his hand out in offering, and Feyre moved to stand by his side at the throne, threading her fingers through his.

Feyre’s steel-blue eyes stared down her nose at Keir, where he huddled in pain before them, insides still painfully convulsing. “Rhys,” she said with a tone of light admonishment. With another wave of his hand he released Keir’s organs from the vice grip of his magic. The male sputtered and gasped, relief washing over his sickly grey face.

Feyre swept forward gracefully, the clicking of her heels bouncing off the chamber walls. She lowered herself to Keir’s level and crouched in front of him. Head tilted to catch his gaze, she clicked her tongue. “Oh Keir, what has my wretched husband done now?” Her voice was a serene lilt, and Rhys felt it like a wash of sunlight against his skin.

Keir glared up at her through his lashes, lips twisted into a sneer.

“Are you hurt?” she asked innocently, and reached out to gently touch the side of his face. He flinched away from her touch, contempt roiling off his very being, though Feyre seemed entirely unfazed. “Rhys does get rather cruel when provoked,” she mused, a smile quirking the edge of her painted lips. Rhys felt the intimate caress of her hands down the bond between them. He leaned into the sensation, lapping up any and every shred of her attention.

“You’re nothing more than a trussed up whore—a disgrace. Human waste!” The male seethed.

A feral growl erupted from Rhysand as he leaned forward, hands gripping the carved serpent heads upon his throne with enough force to splinter the dark rock. Shadows angrily coiled around the outline of his body, writhing in their choler.

“Ah—Rhys,” Feyre tutted again, tongue clicking against her teeth.

Violet eyes whirled with unbridled furor, the light in them swallowed by endless, deathly black. But he breathed slow and leaned back again as he awaited his mate’s command, eyes never leaving Keir’s clammy face.

“Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but I stopped being human when I was killed saving you lot.” Feyre’s eyes glittered with displeasure as she swept her gaze beyond Keir’s sniveling face. The temperature of the room dropped, and the crowd shrunk further back, away from her cool, disapproving stare.

Rhys could feel the righteous indignation burn hot and hungry in her gut, her composure slipping.

“Once a human, always a human,” Keir spat. “You are of ignoble blood. Unfit to wear the crown of Night.”

A single, manicured brow rose on her face as she flicked her gaze back to Keir. She paused as she took him in, assessing, calculating.

“The fact that our High Lord bows to you is a humiliation to great to bear. You should be ashamed of yourself, Rhysand.”

The sound Rhys made was of dark and heady amusement, lip curling into a contemptuous smirk. “She has a leash on me, and I am profoundly eager to serve.” His tone dripped with self-satisfaction.

“Is it a crown you want, Keir?” Feyre asked him, snapping his attention from the High Lord and back to her.

Keir scowled at her, but his eyes flashed.

“Your High Lady asked you a question,” Rhysand thundered, voice hard and cold as steel.

The room silently awaited his answer, every last breath sucked between cagey lungs.

“Yes.”

“Then it is crown you shall have,” Feyre replied without hesitation. She reached her hand up to cup the top of his head, palm and fingers spread from his forehead to his scalp.

Rhysand watched as Keir grit his teeth and hissed in pain. The skin along the edge of Feyre’s hand began to glow with a dim, orange light. In a show of defiance, Keir held her stare, eyes never wavering from her own. His face became mottled and flushed as the skin of his forehead blistered and sizzled around her hand.

“Fuck...you…” he grunted before a ring of fire exploded from her hand and swallowed his head. A crown of flames danced along his scalp, singing and scorching with a sweltering intensity. Keir screamed then, unable to hold back as Feyre’s magic seared his skin.

The room smelled of charred flesh and burnt hair, but Feyre did not yield, not as Kier screamed and convulsed, and not as the dissidents gasped in horror.

When Feyre was finally satisfied, she removed her hand from his face and inspected her work. Red, oozing blisters crowned his head. She stood then, lips pulled into a tight smile, and sauntered back to Rhysand where he still sat in his throne. Her hips swayed, and that countenance of hers shifted to one of mischief as she looked upon him. And by all the gods above and below, he loved when she misbehaved; loved when she reminded the world of her abundance of power.

He clasped her hand in his and pressed a delicate, reverent kiss to her knuckles as she circled to stand by his side. “And what of the rest, my love?” he spoke to her as if she were the only one in the room; as if they weren’t casually talking about the fate of every last soul in this chamber.

Feyre let out a soft hum as she searched her husband’s violet eyes, sketching every last star and galaxy within. Her hand traced along the edge of his shoulder, trailing toward the ridge of his neck. He lifted his chin, offering his neck to her in complete surrender. Her fingers dragged along the smooth and supple skin there, nails grazing.

Keir whimpered against the cold, dark stone of the throne room, chest heaving and half delirious, but alive.

Leaning down to capture Rhysand’s mouth with her own, Feyre murmured against his lips. “Show them the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. I want to taste him.”

Rhysand groaned into her mouth, savoring the taste of her violence and retribution. With a playful bite to his lower lip, Feyre pulled away. “I think I’ll take Mor a present. She’s owed that much,” she said as she paced back to where Keir lay prone and vulnerable, a shadow of his usual blustering-self.

“No, no…” he choked from his scorched and cracked lips. Feyre snatched his arm in a tight grip and turned to Rhys one final time. Rhys could see the desire swirling in her eyes, the voracious appetite that had ignited in her blood. It was a craving he was most eager to satisfy. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she winnowed away, shadows bending her and Keir into the ether and away from the Hewn City. She would await when he was done.

Rhysand turned his attention back to his subjects and stood, wings unfurling behind him. He addressed them now, voice hard and imperious as a King’s. “My whole life I have endured your vile judgments and your self-righteous lies. I have suffered your disdain. My son, and my mate, shall not.”

Screams hollowed out the throne room as Rhys purged the rot and corruption that had festered for centuries within the Hewn City.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #pro feysand #pro rhysand #rhys #rhysandweek2023 #prompt: most powerful high lord #rhysand fanfiction

[shallyne]

Beautiful Stranger

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Inspiration Faerie visited again. Didn't proof read, it's late.

TW: none

Feyre meets someone new at dinner with their families. (The sisters actually kinda like each other in this one)

It was a brisk spring evening, the late spring breeze blew through the open windows, ruffling Feyres hair a bit. She was late. Again. Her mother would be furious, not just about her being late but about being late today. Today was important, apparently. The Night family was coming over for dinner. Feyre ran through her room looking for her second silk slipper. She found it half laying under her bed. Great. A look at the clock told her that she only had 3 minutes until she had to be in the foyer, greeting the Nights. Shit. Feyre took a last look in the mirror, checking that there wasn't any paint she had missed while freshing up. She found none, that was good. Feyre wore a modest, midnight blue gown. The gown that her mother ordered her to wear tonight. Feyre sighed, she was hoping that this dinner would be over soon. It was always the same. Attracting as little attention as possible, keeping herself in the background. Not that she was particularly upset about it, she didn't want any attention of these snobs that her mother always invited, to find a suitor for my sisters. Preferably Nesta. Feyre didn't have any doubt that her mother would try to pair off Nesta with the son of the wealthiest Family in town. She took one last look in the mirror, fixing her hair and then began sprinting through the halls of their manor. She had 2 minutes, if she was fast enough she would make it before the Nights would arrive. A sharp turn around a corner almost made her collide with a maid. Feyre mumbled an apology and began running down the stairs. One minute. She could make it. One turn left, another left. There were the double doors where her family was waiting behind. She quickly opened the doors and stood in her usual place behind her sisters. They didn't bother to turn around and look at her. Her mother on the other hand managed to throw her one disparaging look before the front doors opened. Like usual, her mother became a whole another person as soon as the Night family stepped into the foyer. She looked lovely, her smile welcoming. It always surprised Feyre how fast her mother can change masks.

"Welcome!" Feyres father exclaimed.

"It is an honor to dine with you tonight." her mother said with her most charming voice.

Feyre took a look over Nestas shoulder. There were four people. Two older, a woman and a man, probably in their forties. Both had black hair, the man radiating some kind of strict authority. The female on the other hand was lovely. Her smile could light up rooms. Her eyes were a crushing blue, they almost looked violet. Trailing behind them was a girl, looking like her mother. She was about twelve years old. Then there was another man, about Feyres age. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. The foyer lights where shining on his raven black hair and he had the same eyes as his mother. Feyre got pulled out of her thought when her mother began introducing them. She held a whole speech about Nesta, like she always did. Feyre began drifting off again looking at the beautiful stranger. To her surprise, he met her eyes. She instantly looked down at her feet. Don't attract any attention, that was her first rule when visitors came.

"...and this is our daughter Feyre." Feyres Mother said, and that was about it for her introduction.

The beautiful stranger introduced himself as Rhysand and the little girls name was Selene.

After the introductions were done, her parents led everyone in the dining room. Feyre was sat between Elain and Nesta. Opposite to her sat Rhysand and Selene. Feyres parents sat on each end of the table.

Feyre and Rhys's eyes met again, this time he smiled at her. When she felt a blush creeping up she looked down at her plate. Don't attract any attention. Rule one. No attention.

As Feyre looked to her right she noticed Nestas stare on her. Feyre raised her brows in question. Nesta smiled slightly, a twinkle in her eyes. A mischievous twinkle she didn't see since they were kids. Did she see how Feyre blushed? Will she tell their mother?

Feyre tried to make herself as small as possible. She was glad when her mother brought attention to Nesta again, praising her dancing skills to Rhysand.

Nesta smiled. "Thank you, mother, but it's nothing." Nesta softly laid a hand on Feyres shoulder and turned to Rhysand "You should see her paintings."

Feyre whirled her head towards Nesta, who just kept smiling at Rhysand.

"You paint?" Rhysand asked. Rhysand asked her. Feyre. He asked her if she painted. Oh gods.

"Y- Yes. Sometimes." she stammered. What was Nesta planning? "It's just a silly hobby, though." To no surprise, her mother nodded at that. She could feel her mothers displeasure at her getting any attention.

Feyres surprise just grew as Elain said "Don't be so humble, Feyre." Elain smiled at me, then looked at Rhysand. "Her paintings are excellent."

What was happening right now? She tried to kick Nesta under the table, trying to signal her to stop.

Rhysand laughed "I would like to see your paintings some time."

Feyre was sure she was already red as a tomato as she rasped out "Maybe another time."

Rhysands smile grew wider.

"I would like to see your paintings too sometime, Feyre. If that's alright with you of course." Rhysands mother chimed in.

The only thing Feyre could do at this point was giving her a nod and a shy smile.

Rhysands father cleared his throat, now all the attention on him. Feyre was glad. Rhysand father turned to her own father to ask a question about business. Feyre turned her attention back to the people across from her. Selene was watching her with big eyes, Feyre gave her a smile. Selene smiled back.

It was safe to say that her mother scolded her later that evening for getting so much attention. She didn't say anything, she didn't tell her that it was Nestas fault. Feyre knew it wasn't bad intentions on her sisters side. Feyre didn't even know if her sisters knew that her mother specifically ordered Feyre to not draw any attention, ever.

She couldn't sleep that night. Not because of her mothers scolding. No, she was used to that. She couldn't sleep because her thoughts were always wandering to Rhysand. They didn't talk much after he asked her if she painted. Just a brief goodbye when they left.

Feyre threw her blankets away and stood up. She got to her armoire and grabbed dark pants and a black tunic. She slipped into her dark boots that stood hidden under her bed and stuffed a dagger she had hidden behind her bed in one shoe. Just for protection.

Something tugged her to get out of the house. She had to get out for a little bit.

So Feyre sneaked out through the hole in the fence that was hidden behind a bush, nobody else knew about that hole. Nobody knew how often she sneaked out at night.

She walked a while through the forest near their house until she hit the river bank. She walked a few minutes until she found her usual spot. Feyre sat down and breathed in the midnight air.

"Feyre?" a familiar voice said behind her.

She whirled around to see Rhysand coming out from the shadows of a tree.

"Rhysand." she replied. "What are you doing here?"

Rhysand chuckled. "Please call me Rhys."

When she didn't answer, still waiting for his answer to her question, he sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to take a walk. What about you?"

"Me too." Feyre replied. It wasn't a lie.

"Well, that's great. I couldn't Imagine a better companion than you, Feyre darling." Feyre rolled her eyes at the nickname. "May I?" Rhys asked pointing to where she sat a few moments ago.

Feyre nodded and they sat down again. Watching the stars reflecting on the river, moonlight shining on them.

"You didn't say much tonight." Rhys broke the silence after a few quiet minutes.

"I don't have much to say." Feyre responded, looking him in the eyes.

"That's not true." he breathed.

Part 2 - Beautiful Hell | Part 3 - Beautiful Knight | Part 4 - Beautiful Endings

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #Acotar fanfic #Acotar fic #Feysand fanfiction #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fic #Feysand #Feysand headcanon #Feysand AU #Pro feysand #Archeron sisters #Feyre fanfiction #Feyre fanfic #rhysand fanfiction #Rhysand fanfic #Rhysand fic #Feyre fic #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #rhysand #rhys

[prythianpages]

The Sun & the Moon | Rhysand x Reader

summary: Rhysand wants to write you the perfect poem for Valentine's Day and calls up Cassian and Azriel for help.

warnings: fluff and some implied smut/mainly suggestive tones.

Happy Valentine's Day! ♡

a/n: So I got a little ahead of myself because this can be read as a stand alone (all you have to know is that reader is a healer from Dawn Court.) But it is a part of my Wanna Be Yours series. All because I saw this tiktok sound of this poem and found it so beautiful. I did not write this poem, all credit goes to this creator. I also wanted to write a scene of Rhys struggling to write a poem (I had some saved on pinterest) in part two but had to scrap the scene out for other ones. Now, it's a win-win situation. Don't worry, there are not really spoilers in here for what I have planned. Just know this takes place after their happy ending (:

Valentine’s Day is approaching and Rhysand finds himself facing an unprecedented dilemma. Getting you a gift. A gift as special and perfect as you.

The pressure is high, and the responsibility lies squarely on his shoulders, particularly given the mating gift he presented to you. An expansive estate, where everything–the architecture, the decor, and furniture seamlessly marries the celestial essence of the sun and moon. The grand house paints an exquisite portrait of dawn, reflecting the enchanting blend of your old court and now new one.

So naturally, given his stress, he calls upon his brothers for help.

“You called us here because you don’t know what to get y/n for Valentine’s? y/n, your mate?” Cassian asked, carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“I thought this was important,” came from Azriel.

Rhysand shoots Azriel a pointed look. “This is important.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow while Cassian grins. The two exchange a knowing glance that hinted at a shared understanding. Just as Rhysand prepared to delve into their minds to unravel their thoughts, they turned their attention back to him, nodding in unison.

"Alright, Rhys," Cassian began, clearing his throat dramatically, "How about flowers?”

Rhysand slumps into his desk chair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I get her flowers every week.”

Cassian mirrors Rhysand, seating himself on one of the chairs across from him. He throws his hands up in the air. “Then, I don’t know.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“How about you gift her something a little more sentimental?” Azriel offers. He crosses his arms deep in thought, resting his chin on one hand. “Something small but meaningful.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes light up, the silver specs in his irises glimmering like stars. “Like a poem! Y/n loves poetry."

The library in your home is stocked with a vast amount of poetry. Mainly romantic ones and then, the initial enthusiasm gives way to a fading spark.

Expressing the depth of his feelings verbally comes naturally to Rhysand. His silver-tongued declarations never fail to effortlessly convey how much you mean to him. He is the master of tone and inflection when it comes to expressing his feelings for you and when those are not enough, he loves to show you. Often. With that silver-tongue of his.

However, the transition to writing felt like a different art form altogether. It was challenging because how could he successfully capture the nuances of his love for you in writing? When he'd rather show you...

Rhysand runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, a frown creasing his face. He wants to do this for you but--

“I’ve never written a poem before.”

He looks up to Azriel for help, who in return merely shrugs with a smirk. “I don’t resort to poetry.”

“Oh! I got it!” Cassian, on the other hand, leans forward in his seat with nothing but pure mischief reflected in his gaze. “How about this? Roses are red, violets are blue. y/n, my love, I’m obsessed with you.”

The silence was loud. And then Azriel’s deep laughter fills the air. He finally takes a seat next to Cassian’s, sensing this is going to take awhile. “That is terrible.”

“Absolutely,” Rhysand agrees, his expression defeated. It doesn’t stop him from summoning a quill, ink and paper right in front of Cassian. “But jot that down...just in case.”

As the trio delved deeper into their poetic endeavors, Rhysand's frustration grew. Cassian's attempts became increasingly cheesy. Meanwhile, Azriel just sat back and watched, his shadows peeking curiously over Cassian’s and Rhysand’s papers. He would give his input when necessary, more inclined towards laughter than actually helping.

Nearly two hours later and drowning in parchment full of scribbled attempts at poetry, Rhysand lets out an exasperated sigh, finally excusing Cassian and Azriel. They leave all too quickly, slipping away before Rhysand could retract the words of dismissal that had escaped him.

There’s still a frown in his brow as his eyes graze over all the poems him and Cassian wrote together.  He couldn't bear the thought of presenting any of these creations to you. The inked words on paper seemed to mock the depth of his feelings, failing to capture his love for you.

His eyes flutter shut as he allows his thoughts to drift toward you. The clock's hands have nudged past noon, and the familiarity of your daily rhythm dances in his mind. He knows your schedule as you know his. It’s right after your lunch so he knows you’re at your desk. 

A mental portrait forms, capturing you leaning forward at your desk. Maybe a touch hunched over as you read over a patient's reports with that adorable furrow in your brow. There’s a window right behind you and given the sun is currently at its peak, he can imagine how it glows upon you like a radiant spotlight. 

And when your eyes grow tired from reading, he can already picture the way you’d lean back in your chair, spinning around to face the sun. Your eyes would be fluttering shut like his at this moment. The sun would now be shining on you, its golden hues cascading upon you in an ethereal glow where every beloved feature is highlighted. A living embodiment of warmth and brilliance.

You're his sun but you’re also his moon.

His eyes snap open, his grip on the quill tightening. Before he knows it, words are spilling effortlessly onto the blank parchment in front of him as he lets his emotions flow. He feels a tug down the bond, as if you could sense his thoughts, and with a smile, he echoes the sentiment. He couldn’t wait for you to read it.

Valentine’s day dawns a week later, and Rhysand’s excitement for you to read his poem is palpable. It took all his restraint not to give it to you as soon as he finished it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to take the day off. It didn’t matter as your plans for tonight were simple–just a lovely dinner together, made by Rhysand, in the privacy of your home. All that mattered is that you had tomorrow off. 

Rhysand waits for you right outside the steps of the clinic, not wanting to distract you from your last reports. He could feel your presence grow nearer and nearer through the bond. He tugs on it, a silent urge to pull you to him faster. The door opens and you’re rushing down the steps to meet him.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you bury your head into his chest, inhaling softly. He feels his heart flutter and he tightens his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace. “Hi, love,” you murmur.

He pulls away, cradling your face in his hands. He smiles and then kisses you, pouring all his love and devotion to you. A promise of what’s to come later. “Hey, beautiful. You ready to go home?”

“Always. As long as it’s with you,” you tell him,  voice still breathless as your hand effortlessly entwines with his.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he finds himself melting at your words. Instinctively, he averts his gaze, warmth flooding his cheeks as he bites his lip. He intended to walk you home as Velaris had decorated the streets with hearts, flowers and pink garland. He gives your hand a squeeze and winnows you both directly to the comfort of your home instead.

He reluctantly lets you go so that you can wash up and change.

When you join him in the dining room, the glamor he had placed earlier lifts, revealing an exquisite dinner that has your stomach growling. Cute hearts, flowers and confetti adorn the table and walls around you, filling your heart with a cozy glow.

As his gaze lifts from the table, his eyes widen, pupils flaring.

“Come here, you,” he breathes, pushing his chair back just enough for you to have space to settle onto his lap. 

“I’m hungry,” you say, a small warning delivered with a touch of mirth. His eyes sparkle at you with an unmistakable gleam as he drags a finger up the fabric of your red dress. But your body betrays your words, leaning in to his teasing touch.

“Me too," Rhysand replies with a smirk and it's evident he's not referring to the food plated in front of you.

Your stomach growls and he chuckles, resting his hand on your waist instead. “Let’s eat then.”

The two of you dive into the dinner Rhysand made, feeding each other and catching up with one another. You’re nearly in a food coma, collapsing into Rhysand’s chest when you're done. He rests his head on your shoulder, his strong arms securing their place around your waist.

“I got you something,” he whispers against your neck, lifting his head only to speak his next words. “Well, I wrote you something.”

“You wrote something for me?”

He takes delight in the surprise and excitement in your voice. Raising a hand, he retrieves his valentine card from the pocket realm. The only place he deemed fit to hide his poem for you. He’s too busy pressing his lips against your neck, to hide the giddiness he feels inside, to notice his mistake.

“Roses are red. Violet’s are–”

“Not that one!” Rhysand exclaims, body tensing behind you as he rips it from your hands. “I did not write that one!"

You can’t help but laugh. “Then who did?”

“Cas.”

“Cassian wrote a poem for me?” You reply, eyes widening slightly as you shift in his lap to face him. You're thankful the dress you chose has a loose skirt as it allows you to move freely and settle a thigh on either side of him.

“Gods, no,” Rhysand groans, cursing himself for not discarding that poem once he had written his. He leans forward, burying his head into your chest for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

“I asked Cas and Az for help. I didn’t know what to get you because–well, you’re perfect to me and nothing could ever amount to the love I feel for you. Az suggested I give you something small but meaningful and I know how much you love poems but I’ve never written one so then–”

You interrupt Rhysand with a soft and sweet kiss. When you pull away, Rhysand chases after you but you stop him, pressing your fingers his lips. He plants a kiss on your fingers, holding your gaze.

“Let me read it. The poem you actually wrote.”

“Okay,” Rhysand breathes as he summons another red envelope from the pocket realm. He holds it out to you. “But don’t laugh.”

“Never,” you reassure him as you take the envelope, fingers eagerly tearing it open.

He watches with bated breath, a cascade of emotions swirling within him, as your eyes gracefully traverse from left to right, absorbing every emotion he poured out to you. It's endearing—the tender way your expression, while immersed in his poem, mirrors the very sentiment he wore on his face while crafting it for you. Your lips curve into a radiant smile, and the spark in your eyes begins to glisten with heartfelt tears. In that moment, he can feel the ripples through your shared bond, overwhelming and flooding with an abundance of pure, unbridled love.

“I love it,” you manage to say as you lift your gaze to meet his again. Holding the poem to your chest, you store into the safety of your pocket realm. “I’m going to frame it.”

“I love you,” Rhysand says and then kisses you. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips and then wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you. “Now, it’s my turn to give you your gift.”

this is the poem:

"If the sun and moon had a baby, it would be you.

Cause you are so beautiful.

You radiate light like the sun.

And you bring me calmness like the moon.

You balance me out like the earth and that’s just the beginning of everything you do.

I think that you’re so gorgeous and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.

Because how could I get so lucky to have someone so beautiful like you in my life.”

a/n: I thought this poem was really cute, especially given the sun/moon theme of this series. It's 11:58pm where I live so technically, I made it before Valentine's Day was over lol. I apologize if there are any typos. I tend to make them a lot and switch words out (like I caught myself writing lips instead of lap) when I'm tired. This is exactly the type of vibe i'm going for, for Rhys in this series. It's a scene from a kdrama, where the male fell hard first for the female and he's totally endeared by her. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030 (I know this isn't part two but I tagged y'all just in case, y'all were interested ♡)

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #rhysand fanfiction #rhys wby au

[em-roseee]

Acotar prequel fanfiction

My fav part from the last Heir of Night (@elegistnox) update when Helion finally gets Rhysand to admit he has wings: 

“Tendrils of shadows snaked around his torso, their whispers appearing to come to life as they danced around their master. His shoulders dropped as his tongue curled around his teeth, a malevolent smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth as though he could no longer quite manage to contain it.

In the end, it had not taken much to provoke the Heir to the Night Court at all.

It was rather transcendent witnessing the way they flared wide behind him, casting their Heir into shadows and catching the light as though macabre stained glass.”

AHHHHHKAHAHKAKJAHHAKKAKAK

#acotar fanfiction #rhysand #rhysand fanfiction #helion #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acotar #heirofnight

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #bat boys #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar cassian #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

[captainsophiestark]

Pajamas

Rhysand x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: ACOTAR

Prompt: "I can't go in there! Are you crazy?" "And why on earth not?" "Look how I'm dressed!" "Darling, you could wear a potato sack and still be the marvel in any room. Now let's go show them, shall we."

Summary: Y/N is all ready for their date night with their mate, Rhys. They've had a long, stressful time, and are going to spend the night relaxing in their pajamas and having the time of their lives. Unfortunately for Y/N, the other High Lords have different plans. They're set on having a meeting, and for some reason, they don't seem to care that Y/N and Rhys have plans for a date.

Word Count: 1,008

Category: Fluff, maybe a little angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I stood on the roof of the townhouse in Velaris, head tilted towards the stars as I breathed in the cool night air. Rhysand, my lovely mate, was due to pick me up for a starlight picnic any minute. I'd worn my warmest, fuzziest outfit for a night of stargazing in the countryside. The world around Rhys and I was as crazy as ever, but we made a point of making time to relax with each other, to stay sane if nothing else.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. While my eyes were still closed, a wind stirred the roof, and I felt my mate's presence land softly behind me.

"You're late," I said, smiling all the same. I didn't open my eyes. I was still taking in the calming, cool night air around me.

"My most sincere apologies," Rhys purred, closing the distance between us and wrapping his arms around my waist as he pulled me to his chest. "I wish I could make it up to you, but... I actually have some unfortunate news."

I turned in his arms and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to continue.

"You remember all the effort we've been putting into organizing a meeting of all the High Lords?"

"I don't think I like where this is going, Rhys."

"Well, they finally agreed to do one. Now. Here."

"Are you kidding me?" I cried, throwing up my hands in frustration and pushing back a few steps from Rhys. "Why? And what's with the short notice?"

Rhys shrugged, and I could tell he didn't like it any more than I did. Damned High Lords.

"I think they wanted to catch me off guard," he said simply. "We've been trying to convince them of several things about us, our Court, and our city. Maybe they decided to spring a visit on us to see if we were telling the truth."

I scowled and shook my head. Stupid High Lords and their stupid politics. Would it really have killed them to let Rhys and I have one normal, peaceful night?

"Let me change, and then we can go," I finally said. Rhys ruefully shook his head.

"There's no time," he said. "We need to go now."

"Now? Rhys-"

The end of my sentence was cut off as Rhys swooped me into his arms and took off into the sky. I couldn't hold back a shriek at the sudden change in altitude, and I caught my mate with a roguish grin on his face at my surprise.

I smacked him on the arm as payback, but he just laughed.

I glanced towards the House of Wind to see the lights on, and as we got closer I could make out people milling around inside. The other High Lords had never been to the Night Court, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this meeting wouldn't go smoothly.

With Tamlin and Berron in the mix, it never did.

Rhys lightly squeezed my arm and leg where he held me, probably sensing my unease, then dropped down to the balcony. He carefully set me down too, and once I had my feet under me again, I put my hands on my hips and glared at Rhys. I could see the High Lords milling around inside the House, but they hadn't noticed us yet.

"I can't go in there! Are you crazy?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice hushed.

"And why on Earth not?" asked Rhys, his hands in his pockets and his posture relaxed. I scowled.

"Look how I'm dressed!"

"Darling, you could wear a potato sack and still be the marvel in any room." He grinned at me, and my heart raced a little bit. "Now let's go show them, shall we?"

He held out his hand to me, a confident smile on his face. I took a deep breath and focused on straightening my posture, lifting my head, and looking like the High Lady I was.

Finally, I smiled and met Rhys' eyes. I took his hand, and he pulled me a little closer to him.

"Alright fine, smooth talker. You've convinced me. Let's show those bastards what's up."

"Ooh, bastards," said Rhys, raising his eyebrows as I took his arm and we walked side-by-side towards the doors. "Even Kallias? And Helion?"

"When they're interrupting our date night? Hell yes."

Rhys and I reached the doors, and he used a bit of his power to push both doors open in a grand entrance. All the High Lords (and the rest of the Court of Dreams, who were standing in the back) turned to look at us in sync, their expressions ranging from surprise to displeasure when they saw me. In the background, I caught Cassian's eye and he gave me a feral grin.

"Well, if everyone's ready," said Rhys, ignoring the questioning looks on other people's faces. "Let's begin."

The other High Lords kept staring as Rhys and I moved towards the head of the dining table. I could see Berron getting ready to speak up, but Cassian managed to silence him with a threatening glare.

I knew the peace probably wouldn't last the whole evening, but we'd deal with that when it came. Tarquin, Kallias, and Helion had at least transitioned to giving me appreciative glances, so I knew they'd probably back up my decision.

If the High Lords wanted to get an idea of what the Night Court was actually like, then that's exactly what they were going to get. Pajamas and all.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhys #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar one shot #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #rhys imagine #rhys one shot #rhys fanfiction #night court #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfiction #velaris #cassian #high lord #high lady of the night court #The Night Court

[officialrhysandweek]

Prompts ✨ Guidelines ✨ AO3 Collection

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✍Written Works:

Questioning Motives by @clairebear08

Where Are You by @justfeysand

Day 2: by @shallyne

A Friend by @justfeysand

Rhysand's Blood Rite by @timesconvert

Doing What Is Best by @thecatsaesthetics

Only the Young by @adreamof-spring

🎨Art:

Pants Brawl by @thrumugnyr

The Illyrian Warrior by @copypastus

The Illyrian Warrior by @taymartiart

🎶Misc:

The Illyrian Warrior Moodboard by @shallyne

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🎨: davidjbrunson, louisse_ang, and nicolajwilkinson

#rhysandweek2023 #pro rhysand #rhysand #prompt: The Illyrian Warrior #Rhysand fanfiction #Rhysand fanart #Rhysand moodboard