#Rhysand Drabble

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Solstice Gifts

A/N: Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄✨ This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would give the reader a gift during Solstice. I originally planned to write for all the High Lords, but I ran out of time (and ideas). Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Azriel

Being Feyre’s younger sister, you were new to Rhys’s inner circle and Azriel wasn’t sure if you would accept a gift from him, or if it would even be appropriate. So when the time came for exchanging presents, he didn't immediately hand you his.

As a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster, he had observed what you liked and wanted. So when he decided to get you a gift, he let his shadows quietly place it in your room, unwilling to cross that boundary himself.

When you returned that evening, you found it waiting for you, simply wrapped with a small card in his neat handwriting: For you. From Azriel.

The simple words made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest. But your surprise only grew when you unwrapped the gift and found the very thing you’ve been quietly wanting for so long.

Later that night, you made your way to his room, your nerves making you knock so soft you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it. But his sharp senses caught it anyway, and when he opened the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of you standing there.

You stammered a little before managing to thank him, your cheeks warm. He dipped his head slightly, his voice low as he replied, “I wanted you to have something that mattered, something that you truly wanted.”

On impulse, you stepped onto your toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again, before pulling back and reluctantly walking back to your room.

His heart skipped a beat, shadows curling around his shoulders as he watched you go. Part of him wanted to call after you, to say something to make you stay, but he held back. It wasn’t the right time…not yet.

Cassian

Unlike Azriel, Cassian was anything but subtle. When you joined Rhys’s inner circle, he couldn’t resist flirting with you at every opportunity. Your friendship quickly became filled with playful banter, though you almost always dismissed his shameless remarks with an eye roll or a sharp retort.

On Winter Solstice evening, as everyone exchanged presents, he plopped down beside you on the couch, his thigh pressing comfortably against yours. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “What do you want?” you asked, half exasperated, half amused.

“I want nothing,” he said, grinning as he handed you a small box. The wrapping was so crumpled it looked as though he’d wrestled it into submission. You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head as you opened it.

Inside was a stunning necklace with a rare gemstone. For a moment, you were speechless. His taste had completely taken you by surprise, you hadn’t thought a warrior like Cassian would pick out something so elegant. “This is…beautiful,” you said softly, unsure of what else to say as you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in thanks.

When you pulled back, his grin widened, and you knew what was coming even before he opened his mouth. “I thought about how good that stone would look between your breasts and couldn’t resist getting it,” he muttered, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

Your jaw dropped, your face heating as you stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then, you elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “You’re absolutely shameless.” Though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Cassian only laughed, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Rhysand

Rhys whisks you away to the top of the House of Wind, Velaris glittering below you. With a wave of his hand, a small box appears in his grasp. “Go on, open it,” he urges, his violet eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You do as he says, carefully unwrapping the box to reveal a pendant with a tiny glowing star encased within. “Rhys, you shouldn’t have,” you murmur, awe and gratitude flooding your voice.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before replying with a smirk and a wink. “Oh, that’s nothing…wait till you see what I’ve got planned for you in the bedroom.”

You give him a pointed look before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he quips, his smirk widening. “And I don’t just mean in the bedroom. There are more gifts waiting for you there. Come on, let’s go.” He takes your hand and begins leading you downstairs, his excitement barely contained.

“Rhysss!” you groan, pouting slightly as he tugs you along. “I told you, I don’t need gifts. Having you is enough.”

He pauses mid-step, turning to cup your cheek and pinch it playfully. “I know, darling,” he says softly. “But I can’t help it. I want to shower you with gifts and spoil you like you deserve. After all, you are my greatest gift, and there’s nothing I can do that could ever compare.”

Lucien

Feyre had invited Lucien to this year’s Winter Solstice, and although his duties kept him busy, he had agreed to come, if only for the chance to spend more time with you, his mate. Though you hadn’t accepted the bond yet, you hadn’t rejected it either. This was all new to you, and Lucien had resolved to give you as much time and space as you needed, not wanting to push or make you uncomfortable in the slightest.

He had missed you. It had been months since he last saw you, back in the summer. So when you descended the stairs that evening, his heart drummed wildly in his chest. His amber eye and russet gaze tracked your every step until your eyes met his. You greeted him with a polite nod, and he returned it, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, he lingered on the edge of the festivities, watching you from afar as the others exchanged gifts, laughed, and drank. Finally, mustering his courage, he approached you, his palms damp with nervousness.

“I came across this during my travels,” he muttered softly, handing you a small package wrapped in elegant paper. “I thought you might like it.” Curiosity piqued, you unwrapped the gift, revealing a vintage wooden box. Inside lay a pair of earrings, their intricate design unlike anything you’d ever seen. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the kind of artistry that carried stories within its details.

When you looked up, you found him watching you intently, his gaze warm but hesitant. “It’s nothing compared to what you deserve,” he murmured in a low tone. “But…it’s from the heart.” A small, almost shy smile curved his lips. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “I have a small gift for you too.”

His brows furrowed in confusion as you disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, you returned, holding a single cupcake on a small plate. Handing it to him, you said softly, “I hope you like chocolate. I baked it myself.”

At first, Lucien didn't react. Then realization dawned on his face. “Oh. OH!” His voice rose slightly as the significance of your gesture hit him. “Is this wh- are you aware of what this means in fae tradition?”

You nodded, a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

His breath hitched. “Are you sure?” He searched your gaze for any hesitation. But when you smiled and nodded again, his resolve melted.

Lucien carefully picked up the cupcake, taking a deliberate bite. His eyes closed briefly as he savored it before opening again, now glowing with warmth and joy. “It’s delicious,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as he stressed the word. “Thank you.”

Setting the cupcake aside, he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “May I?” he whispered.

When you nodded again, he closed the small distance between you, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and full of longing it stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a promise, a declaration, and the sealing of the bond he had waited so long for.

Eris

Being Rhysand’s sister and Eris being Beron’s son made your relationship…complicated, to say the least. Some days, you couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Other days, the tension simmered so hot it was impossible to think of anything but dragging each other to the nearest bed…or any available surface to fuck.

Eris, of course, would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was in love with you.

On Winter Solstice, he sent an urgent message demanding you meet him halfway between your courts, in a clearing deep in the forest. His tone had been curt, and you’d feared the worst as you rushed to the meeting spot.

When you arrived, he stepped out of the shadows with his usual smirk. Before you could say a word, he tossed something at you. “Catch.”

Instinct kicked in, and you lunged to catch the small package before it hit the ground. Straightening, you narrowed your eyes at him, holding the elaborately wrapped gift in your hands. “This was the ‘urgent’ matter?” Eris shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His gaze flickered to the horizon, refusing to meet yours. “It’s nothing big. Don’t read too much into it. Just…open it.” His voice was smooth, nonchalant, but you could sense the tension beneath it. He stood rooted in place, his head tilted as though he wasn’t watching you, but you could feel the weight of his focus. A part of him feared you’d hate it. Another part clung to the hope that you’d like it, that your eyes would sparkle and you’d smile, that rare, genuine smile he secretly craved.

Slowly, you unwrapped the package. Inside was a bracelet, simple yet elegant, crafted with the kind of skill only found in the Autumn Court. The small fire-red gemstone set into it caught the light like a glowing ember, warm and alive.

And there it was…that flicker of surprise, the soft curve of your lips, the quiet joy in your eyes. He’d found what he was looking for, and it was enough. That moment was his true gift this Solstice.

But when you glance up to thank him, he was already turning away. “Happy Solstice,” he murmured, his voice cool and distant, as though the gift hadn’t taken him weeks to choose.

Before you could respond, he winnowed out, disappearing into the night without a backward glance. Because if he’d stayed, if he’d looked into your eyes again, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself.

[ladybirdswritings]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS, FIC — rhysand x reader.

DESCRIPTION: an anonymous journalist exposes the dark secrets of prythian’s elite, but when rhysand, the sharp and relentless owner of the night court gentleman’s club, uncovers her identity, she’s thrust into a dangerous game of blackmail, power, and unexpected attraction. NOTES - i HAD to do an ACOTAR fic. this is a modernish au with the brother’s best friend & enemies to lovers tropes. rhys is a rich playboy, reader hates him. steaminess ensues. leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

“I’m going to tear that wretched bitch limb from limb the moment I find them.”

You flinched as glass slammed against the counter, the sharp sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet house.

Rhysand was never subtle. Even in stillness, he commanded a room like a shadow cursed to expand—endless, suffocating, all-consuming. Tonight, he was a storm unrestrained.

He didn’t look at you. He never did. Then again, no one else did either, not with you tucked behind a fortress of old books. Romances, plenty to keep you sated. Tonight, you sat at the table, half-buried in their pages, your too-large glasses slipping down the bridge of your pointy nose.

And there he was—draped in black silk and leather, his movements precise despite the whiskey in his hand. The veins in his forearm protruded most inhumanly as he gripped his glass, his jaw taut with sparsely-contained frustration. Lucien, ever the diplomat, poured him another drink with the practiced ease of someone who’d been smoothing over Rhysand’s outbursts for years. He had.

“The fine people of Prythian won’t care about whatever drivel this so-called author is printing,” Lucien said smoothly. “The Night Court has been thriving, Rhys. No need to let petty gossip get under your skin.”

Gossip.

You winced at the dismissal, your knuckles tightening around the spine of your book. It wasn’t just gossip. It was your work. Your words. The invisible sister of Lucien Vanserra had finally found her voice—albeit from the shadows. If no one would listen to your words spoken aloud, they’d damn well read them. At first, it had been an act of silent rebellion, a catharsis as much as a challenge.

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Behind closed doors had spread like wisteria vines through Prythian’s small town and beyond, and the Night Court’s elite. And while they laughed and whispered about the scandalous columns over their evening drinks, you watched from afar, quietly vindicated. No one could suspect the shy, unassuming adoptive sister of Lucien—odd, foreign, and entirely overlooked. It was empowering. It was ironic.

And it was dangerous.

“Trashy gossip?” Rhysand echoed, his voice low and cutting, dragging your thoughts back to the present. He smoothed a sheet of parchment across the counter, your latest piece, the inked words practically searing into his violet eyes. “Do you think the author would call it merely gossip? Or perhaps truth, Lucien?”

He read aloud, mockery dripping from his tone. “‘The pretty ladies of the Night Court have found their respect elsewhere. Swaying hips grow tired of catering to the insatiable demands of Prythian’s elite, their so-called leader no better than the braying beasts who frequent his clubs.’”

Your heart hammered as his voice sliced through the air, cold and unrelenting. Hatred dripped like serpent’s venom from his pearled teeth. Rhys crumpled the paper in one hand and let it fall to the floor, his lips curling into a humorless smile.

“Poetic, isn’t it?” he sneered, downing the last of his whiskey. “Two of my finest dancers fled last month, and suddenly, every fool with a pen thinks they’re the arbiter of truth. Do you think they imagine themselves clever?”

Lucien frowned, pouring himself a drink now. “You’re letting this rubbish get under your skin. I doubt anyone takes it so severely.”

“Oh, they do take it severely,” Rhys said darkly, quickly— running a hand through his perfected raven locks. “Whoever’s writing this isn’t just clever. They’re precise. Calculated. This isn’t some scorned drunkard’s ramblings; it’s surgical. And you—” he jabbed a finger in Lucien’s direction, “—you’re telling me to laugh it off while my name and my life’s work is dragged through filth?”

You sank deeper into your chair, praying they wouldn’t notice you. A silly worry seeing as most times, they never did.

“Whoever wrote this, I imagine they know you well,” Lucien said, his tone light but edged with something sharper. “You think it’s a man?”

Rhys scoffed. “Of course, it’s a man. No woman is that cunning.”

A sour taste filled your mouth, and you finally dared to glance up. His words, so casually spoken, ignited something in your chest. He was dismissing you. Because what, you didn’t hone the same parts as he did? Annoyance surged your posture straighter and your palms to fists. Before you could stop yourself, you muttered under your breath, “I think whoever wrote it doesn’t like you very much, Rhysand.”

The room stilled.

Lucien choked on his drink, half-shocked, half-amused. Rhysand, however, turned slowly, his violet gaze locking onto you with the weight of a predator assessing prey. Bat to bleeding, weak little bug. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to the space between the two of you. You only dared a blink when his lips curved into a slow, mocking smile.

“And what would you know of such things?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft. “You hardly seem the literary type.” His sarcasm was a direct mockery of what he’d called “rubbish” on more than one occasion. Your romance novels.

“Works of the devil, himself. Keep reading that rubbish and it will keep you lonesome forever.” He’d said once, one of the only times he’d spared you any words.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you held his gaze, refusing to shrink beneath it. “Maybe not,” you said, barely above a whisper, “but I know truth when I read it.”

Rhys tilted his head, the smile slipping from his face. His stare lingered, uncomfortably long, as though he were trying to peel back your skin and see what lay beneath. You squirmed in your seat.

Lucien stepped in before the tension could thicken further. “Careful, Rhys. She’s sharper than she looks.” He gave you a fond glance, but his words carried an undertone of warning. Behave.

“Sharper?” Rhys echoed, turning back to his drink. “Hardly. Your sister is as meek as they come.”

You gritted your teeth, your nails digging into the dilapidated cover of your book. Without another word, you stood abruptly, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor. You gathered your things with deliberate slowness, each movement a silent protest, before stomping toward the stairs.

Behind you, Lucien sighed. “She won’t appreciate your company if you spend the night.”

Rhys’s laugh was low and awfully amused. “Even more reason to stay, then.” There was a gleam in his wicked eyes.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to turn back. But as you ascended the stairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhysand’s violet eyes lingered on you far longer than they should have.

“She doesn’t like you,” Lucien said once you were out of earshot.

Rhys was silent for a strained moment before he finally spoke, his tone almost… thoughtful. “No,” he murmured, more to himself than his old friend. “She doesn’t.”

The realization hung in the air, heavy and inevitable. And somewhere, deep in the pit of your stomach, you felt the first flicker of unease. Why had he assessed you, spared you a glance for a moment longer than necessary? It was unlike him. It was for a reason. It had to be.

Though you tried to convince yourself that your mind was only making shadows from things that were not in the light yet— you just couldn’t shake the feeling…

Your secret was no longer safe.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Bat boys drabble!

How each of the bat boys would react to being called ‘bro’ 🦇

Did I not promise to write a least a little something while I’m travelling?? 🥰 Thank you @aroseinvelaris for letting me use your super fun prompt! ❤️

18+ smut under the cut. It’s brat taming time 😏 💥

Rhysand

Wouldn’t like it one bit

You have heaps of loving pet names for one another (darling of course, princess, tiny, kitten and mischievous one for you) (handsome, lover boy, baby and mosthandsomeandcunninghighlord for Rhys). Bro is certainly not on the list.

He blinks those dark lashes once, the most surprise he’d ever show

A sinister grin grows on his face

“A beg your pardon, darling?”

He stalks closer, placing his hands on either side of the wall of whatever surface you’re near, trapping you between him, his purple eyes sparkling, almost daring you

“What was that you called me? Bro?” You can hear the distaste in his voice

His scent evenlopes your senses, and you swallow thickly

Tracing the bob in your throat, Rhys quirks a brow at you, faking an expected answer for a victory he already knows is his

He tuts before leaning in that much closer, his lips against your throat. Seconds later, canines gently graze your soft flesh

“I dare you to call me that again,” he murmurs into your neck

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t find your voice as Rhys licks where his teeth were resting, your core now throbbing

He’d probably sink his teeth in just a little before taking you against the wall

Cassian

Laughs at first, you were on the same team at games night and he chuckled, returning your high-five when you won

But as the night went on, you used the nickname a few more times, and it begin to eat away at him

Which you noticed in your partner, his laugh turning to a smirk, then a frown, and finally an outright scowl

Still, you delighted in irking him

Cassian was unusually quiet on your way home. As soon as you got through the door, he grabbed your wrist

“What was that all about?”

“What?” You answered innocently

Cassian levelled a look at you. “Why did you keep calling me bro? I’m your mate.”

You heart could have broken at those puppy dog eyes. You should have realised that kind of teasing would have hurt him, Cassian being the big softie he is

“Oh, I’m sorry Cas. It was- I was just irking you.”

Cassian raises his brows. “Oh! Oh.”

A wolffish grin spread across his face, before you were flipped over his shoulder as he stalked towards your bedroom

Throwing you on the bed (and not gently either), Cassian had your wrists pinned and body pressed against you in seconds

“So my mate likes to tease me, huh?”

You giggled as he nipped your neck, giving a very weak attempt to throw him off you

“I am your mate, sweetheart. And only your mate can make you feel like this.”

Cassian thrusts his groin into yours and holds it there, your laughter immediately halting as pleasure shoots up through your core

Cassian delights at the shock on your face, before moving against you a few more times, slowly rutting, fully clothed

“You’ve gone all quiet, sweetheart, and gone all pink,” he teases. “What’s wrong, got nothing else to say?”

You can barely speak beyond moaning his name as Cassian flips and fucks you, the whole damn bed on its final hinges

Azriel

Does nothing in the moment, beyond quirking a brow at you

Bahaha boy oh boy will you be paying for it later though

It’s like he has a clicker in his mind, and each time you use that word, he tallys the amount of spanks you’ll be receiving that night

Azriel sees the word bro as a challenge – it’s mocking, questions his dominance, and is a weak attempt to toy with him

That’s why later that night, you’re bent over his lap, panties pulled to the side as he soothes your red cheeks after a fifth spank, Azriel cooing softly

“Who am I?” His voice is deep, commanding

Your face is as red as your ass. “Daddy.”

“That’s right. And what am I not?”

You gulp, willing yourself not to snort as you say it

Azriel pinches your ass – you’re taking too long

You yelp before manage to get it out. “My bro.”

“Good girl.” Azriel continues to rub a soothing palm over your stinging cheeks before squeezing at the flesh.

He fucks you sensually, only because you took your punishment like a good girl

[lalacliffthorne]

christmas with the modern!batboys!roommates - as headcanons 💕

because there's way too much I wanna talk about to just put it into a meek lil drabble!!! and I actually can't wait for christmas now. 🎄

merry christmas ya filthy animals 🎀

it's about halfway through November when you decide on spending your Christmas at the flat

reason is the fact that all of your three roommates will, for once, also be staying for the holidays

usually, Rhys is forced into an awkward, stilted celebration with his father that mostly consists of very tense dinners, coffees and him trying to flee to his room for as much time as possible

Azriel always visits his mother, and Cassian usually either stays at the flat or visits the orphanage he spent half of his childhood in to help with the kids

but this year, Rhys' father isn't even in the country because of some business deal

Rhys jumps at the opportunity to avoid one awful holiday and decides to not go with him and instead spend christmas at the flat

Azriel's mother is seeing someone new who invited her to spend the holidays in the mountains

Az really doesn't want to be third-wheeling, so he, too, decides to stay home

(you're a bit surprised he's so unbothered about his mother dating someone new

he is quite protective of her

but then again, Az is quicker than even Mor at stalking someone on the internet

and out of all of you, has probably the best intuition when it comes to people

which means the new guy seems to have passed all the first hurdles)

Cassian doesn't let it show too much bc he doesn't want them to feel bad about how things usual go

but you can tell he's beyond happy to have them there

Mor's also staying in town and will be over for Christmas Eve

you usually always go home for the holidays

but sometimes, it's time for new traditions, right?

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

Your voice rises over the sound of the movie, and with a curious look, Rhys turns it on mute before looking your way, Cassian, lounging in one of the armchairs, craning his neck to do the same when you worm yourself out of Azriel's arms where you have been curled up for the past half an hour, barely paying any attention to the TV.

You can feel Azriel's eyes on the side of your face when you grin sheepishly.

"I - I think I'm gonna stay here as well for Christmas."

Cass crunches his brows in surprise. "What about your family, don't you go home usually?"

"Yeah." Rhys grins. "Won't you be missed?"

You huff at him.

"They might come here for a few days during the holidays, but -" You shrug and grin at them. "I don't know, I feel like I want to stay here this year." You frown in thought. "Would be weird to just leave you all here."

Cassian starts grinning toothily, and just that would have convinced you that this is definitely the right decision. But then you turn your head and find Azriel staring at you, the golden spots in his eyes seeming to twinkle in the warm light, and your heart does a flip.

Yep. Definitely worth it.

and with that and the knowledge that all of you will be spending Christmas at the flat together - you decide on going all in.

everything starts with the flat.

it's your home, your place to be after all

and it deserves to be spruced up and decked to completion

which is why it becomes first thing on your big Christmas list

because the boys usually don't spend the holidays at the flat, there aren't really any decorations in storage down in the basement

so the next Saturday, you and Rhys hit the high street and every place in town needed for the perfectly decorated flat

you get fir garlands and fairylights, together with an unholy amount of candles

in a concept store next to the café where you take a much needed break around lunchtime, you find funky glass baubles

(you make sure you take the black camera and one of the motorcycles)

in another store, you find big stars made out of thick paper for the windows, even light up ones, along with stockings and some candleholders for the big dining table in the living room

(because of course there will be a ridiculous amount of food, if the way Rhys has been buried in cookbooks for the past few days is any indication)

you even get a new set of dishware

on the market, you score some big wreaths

Rhys buys mistletoe; so much of it, you're wondering whether he wants to plaster the whole house

you get ribbons and wrapping paper, festive cookie cutters, trinkets and more candles -

then, the next morning, Rhys turns up the Christmas music, and you get to decorating

because Cassian is tallest, he is tasked with anything that involves hanging things up the second he steps through the front door

fastening garlands and fairylights to the doorways, putting up the light up stars you got for the windows and the one for your room that fits its colorscheme

and hanging up the mistletoe

you place garlands over the mantle of the fireplace, together with fairy lights and candles

the window sills get the same treatment, while outside, Rhys fights with a long string of tangled lights to wrap around the balustrade of the balcony and the bushes

for safety reasons, the stockings are hanging underneath one of the windows and not above the fireplace

(you don't want any accidents involving burning stockings)

you found some pillow cases and a cozy blanket for the couches that fit the theme, and the coffee table is decorated with more candles and a wreath with bows you tied meticulously

you even set up the big dining table in the living room, with more garlands and candles and some of the baubles, and the new dishware

(you rarely use that table because you always eat in the kitchen anyway, so it can stay like that until the holidays)

the bookcases get covered in fairylights and little trinkets, the mirror gets a stole of fir

you're hanging up the biggest of the wreaths with a big red bow at the front door of the flat when Azriel comes home

the corner of his mouth kicks up when he sees you, some glitter on your face, a black bow in your hair and beaming at him

and his eyes actually twinkle a little when he sees the decorated flat

Cassian is positively buzzing with happiness when he hangs up the final wreath in the kitchen window

Rhys has hung some fir branches over the table, with some baubles and ornaments dangling from them and candles sitting on the wooden tabletop

every room smells like pine and firewood and it makes your heart skip with happiness

Rhys smirks and drops his arm onto your shoulder

"not bad, darling. not bad at all."

and with that, the festive time between decorating and the actual holidays begin

and you plan to enjoy every second

one of the first days of December, all of you embark on the most important mission of all:

finding the perfect tree

there's a pop up outdoor place selling trees a little walk away from the flat

Rhys, extravagant as usual, wants to take the huge fir tree right at the entrance

you manage to convince him that even though your apartment does have very nice high ceilings, a tree the width of both Cassian and Azriel combined would be just a little over the top

Cassian votes for a slightly crooked specimen that's about two feet taller than him

("it's got character.")

in the end, Azriel is the one who finds the perfect one

"What about that one?"

Turning at the sound of Azriel's deep, calm voice, you slip past a bickering Rhys and Cassian, and Az looks down at you when you shiver happily and slide your cold hand into his pocket, curling yourself into his side.

It's gotten really freaking cold.

Squinting, you look up at the tree you're standing in front of. It's probably a foot taller than Cass, it's branches thick and close together and it's top just the tiniest bit crooked.

"Huh." You feel a smile slowly spreading over your face, turning your head without looking away from the tree. "Hey, dumb and dumber."

Azriel snorts softly.

"Who's who?" Cassian appears next to you, crunching his nose to suppress a sneeze as he offers you his elbow to hide your freezing hand in.

"If you gotta ask,", Rhys mumbles from Azriel's other side before dodging Cassian trying to kick his shin, his nearly violet eyes twinkling when he smirks.

Not you, you mouth up at Cass and earn yourself a wide grin and a wink.

"What about that one?" Azriel threads his fingers through yours in his pocket, nodding towards the tree in front of you.

Both Cassian and Rhys tip their heads to the side in unison.

"Hm." Rhys doesn't sound as opposed as with every other tree that has crossed your way so far.

"It's big, but not too big, it's got character -" You shrug and look back and forth between them. "I think it's perfect."

"Let's check." Cassian lets go of you, and you're about to look up at him with a confused frown when strong arms wrap around your waist and lift you off your feet.

You squeak and sway and feel a deep chuckle against your back. You look up to find yourself face to face with the tree top, then you get slid back to your feet.

"Yup." Cassian straightens and pats your head. "Perfect height."

You scowl up at him.

"I mean, it's not as perfect as the first one -" Rhys gets cut off by three people groaning and snickers.

"But it's pretty close, so -"

"Thank God,", Azriel mumbles into your hair, and you giggle.

you go home with the tree and a white amaryllis that'll hopefully be in bloom by Christmas and that you want to use as centerpiece for the dining table

Cassian carries the tree like it's not a foot taller than him and probably just as heavy

that weekend, you put it up

Rhys and you bicker about the best way to detangle the ball of fairylights

by the time you're finished and turn towards the tree, Azriel holds up one end of the neatly laid out fairylights with a deadpan look

it takes some more bickering about the perfect way of wrapping the lights around the tree until the huge fir tree is twinkling from every angle

and then little by little, you distribute all the the baubles and ornaments evenly

Cassian is responsible for the top branches and you, begrudgingly, for all the ones at the bottom

the whole slightly chaotic endeavour is accompanied by the sound of Christmas music, hot chocolate and the crackling fireplace

when you're almost finished, Cassian lifts you up, completely ignoring your soft squeak, and Rhys hands you the tree topper

the golden star goes right on the top, and then you're done

that evening, you all just sit and stare at the tree

it's magnificent and slightly chaotic

really mirrors living in the flat, you think

and with the tree up, all the festive activities can truly begin

you bake gingerbread cookies, happy to huddle up in the warm kitchen as it progressively gets colder outside

you go gift shopping with Feyre and Mor, who get along like a house on fire

when Feyre drops you off at home after and helps you carry your bags upstairs, Rhys opens the door

you're pretty sure the blush in Feyre's cheeks does not stem from the cold

even as she huffs at Rhys' blatant flirting

you get dragged out for another round of gift shopping with Cassian a few days after

it ends with the two of you buying a dutch oven for Rhys and almost forgetting it on the Christmas market when you stop for mulled wine and food on the way home

since Feyre is going home for the holidays, you have a little celebration the second weekend of December

you kick the boys out of the flat for the evening

the two of you make a whole small roast, dancing around the kitchen to Christmas music and have dinner in the living room

the tree is lit, and the first presents have found their way under it, all wrapped up more or less craftfully

you watch classic christmas movies and eat on the couch

when the boys get back later that night, the both of you are so full and happy, Feyre actually beams at Rhys in passing

you think he might faint

after saying goodbye to Feyre at the door, you turn, and he still stands in the hall, looking a little dazed

when he glares at you like a silent "not a word", you grin and tackle him in a hug

bc

he's adorable

the day after (probably in an act of revenge on Rhys' side), the both of you engage in a gingerbread house building competition in your kitchen

there's Christmas music, hot chocolate and containers and bowls with icing and dozens and dozens of different decorations spread all over the counter while you set up camp at the kitchen table

when Cass and Azriel come back from the gym and their own Christmas shopping in the late afternoon, the kitchen is absolute chaos

and Rhys and you have switched from hot chocolate to mulled wine and are slightly tipsy

both Cass and Azriel lean into the doorframe, staring at Rhys and you as you giggle and bicker, trying to kick at each other under the table

you're a little dishevelled, wearing a pair of wide pyjama pants, fuzzy socks and a loose t-shirt, your hair a mess and specks of icing all over your nose

Rhys looks equally unkempt for once, slightly flushed and violet eyes twinkling as he grins, icing on his dark t-shirt

when evening rolls around, you're completely exhausted

but both of your houses are standing

they are a bit wonky

but very pretty

complete with white icing, windows made from melted candy, roof tiles and cotton candy for smoke rising from the chimneys

Mor, who drops by that evening, acts as impartial judge and rules a tie

neither you nor Rhys really are too bothered by it

you're mostly proud they've not collapsed into heaps yet

Rhys smushes your face between his sticky hands and leaves a smacking kiss on your forehead that ends the competition before calling dibs on the first shower

and Azriel decides, when you crawl onto the couch where he's already sprawled out on the cushions and bury yourself in his chest, your body aching and feeling sticky

that even though he doesn't really care for sweets

you smelling like gingerbread and icing could make him come around to it

he doesn't say it, but when he wraps his arms around you and drags you up his body, curling around you to bury his face in your t-shirt and humming, you decide that this is definitely becoming a tradition

(even tho the next few days, Rhys and you get nauseous at just the sight of anything sweet)

the closer you get to Christmas, the more giddy you get

Azriel takes every chance he gets to crowd you under one of the many twigs of mistletoe Rhys has snuck into every possible spot in the flat and kiss you until your heart nearly gives out and your knees are jello and you can feel his lips curve against yours

to be fair, the other two don't really hold back either

Cassian has the time of his life leaving smacking kisses onto the cheeks and foreheads of whoever ends up under a sprig of mistletoe next to him

it's cause to different stages of crunched noses and huffs

from amused (Rhys) to fits of giggling (you and Mor) to grumbling (Azriel)

and Rhys likes to dramatically pretend he's about to smooch the shit out of you, sweeping you up and dipping you back and everything, causing you to break into fits of snickers and Azriel to roll his eyes

you're pretty sure to see his lips twitch tho

you go to the Christmas market a few more times

with Rhys, because he wants to sample every food that's sold there and you would never pass up a chance to eat and gossip

then with all the boys and Mor, on an icy cold evening, to look at the decorations all over the shops and drink mulled cider

it's so cold you're permantely glued to Azriel's side, your fingers laced with his in his pocket, your arm wrapped around his elbow

he lets you slide into his coat as far as possible when you're waiting for the hot beverages, his chin resting on your head when you bury your face in his chest, his lips pressing against your forehead when you peak up at him, nose pink from the cold

the way he's staring down at you makes your heart hop and swerve, and Azriel's lips twitch

then, a few days before Christmas, Mor turns up and takes you ice skating

it ends in giggles, the two of you holding onto each other and singing aloud to the Christmas music from the speakers

you get waffles and hot chocolate after and Mor drags you with her into several clothing stores because she still doesn't have an outfit for the celebrations

it's when you decide she's gonna sleep over on Christmas Eve

because the thought of her going home in the evening and then coming back on Christmas Morning is just ridiculous

and when you promise she can sleep in your bed, all by herself, Mor beams

"okay!"

(you'd be sleeping in Azriel's room anyway)

the boys don't mind

quite the opposite

Rhys actually huffs bc he didn't think of it earlier

you have Christmas movie nights, with snacks and gingerbread and hot chocolate, the tree glittering and the smell of pine making your heart skip happily

gingerbread decorating competitions

and evenings where the fire is crackling and you are curled up against Azriel on the couch, reading with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and lips absentmindedly pressing against your temple

and then the afternoon before Christmas Eve, you take advantage of having the flat all to yourself and lock yourself in your room to wrap all your presents

in the end, you're sitting on the floor, surrounded by paperscraps and bows, with sticky tape on your forehead and a small heap of presents in front of you

wrapped to the best of your abilities and carefully labelled

they go onto the growing pile of presents under the tree, and you award yourself with a bubble bath

(wrapping gifts is hard, okay?)

you got the Dutch Oven you bought for Rhys with Cassian, along with a pair of purple fuzzy socks (mostly so he stops stealing yours) and fancy pickles

the guy has weird interests

Cassian's boxing gloves have seen better days, so you and Mor got him a new pair, with his name embroidered in deep red stitching at the wrist

you also bought him a set of hair care, after he once accidentally used yours and was in awe about how soft it made his hair for a solid three days

for Mor, you found a small shop on etsy that makes custom jewellery with recycled materials

you got her a necklace with a little charm with a little deep red stone and a matching bracelet, both dainty and slim

as well as a kit for a fancy bubble bath

as for Feyre, she already got her present a few days before and now lugs it home with her

you and Mor bought her a set of fancy oil paints

you also got her two mugs

one says coffee

the other paint water

you hope it means she stops accidentally poisoning herself

as for Azriel

his gift makes your heart hop with nerves

on Christmas Eve, Mor comes over, and Rhys whips up a three course dinner

you eat in the kitchen, Mor and you occupying the couch and giggling into your wine glasses

then you move to the living room and watch Home Alone

at 11, you all suddenly feel the need to move

so you bundle up with coats and scarves and hats before piling out of the flat

outside, it's so cold, your breath rises in thick white clouds

you take a long walk around the neighbourhood, looking at the lights and decorations everywhere

some people have wrapped their outside trees and bushes in fairylights

some have hung stars that light up porches, balconies and windows

you're actually not the only ones on a walk

there are still quite a few people out, probably with the same idea as you

you walk next to Mor, your arms linked together and awing softly at the glimpses you catch at decorated living rooms and twinkling trees

Rhys and Azriel are behind you, talking quietly between themselves

and Cassian is walking a little bit ahead of you, sniffling against the cold air, ridiculously broad in his thick jacket, a hat pulled over his head and seemingly lost in thought

after a while, you let Mor fall back to the other two and catch up with him

shivering happily, you wrap your arm around his and bump your shoulder softly into his side

"you okay?"

your voice is soft, and when you look up at him, your heart does a little warm pulse

because Cassian, big, vibrant, boisterous Cassian is completely quiet and calm

he looks at the houses with the lights and the twinkling trees in the living rooms, and one corner of his lips tips up gently

"yeah."

as you're staring up at him, something's suddenly swelling in your chest, making it hard to breathe

bc for one second, the only thing you see is a very little Cassian, alone in an orphanage on Christmas

you really try not to allow the sudden pressure behind your eyes to surface

but then Cassian looks down at you and gently bumps his elbow into your side, grinning softly

"got my family."

and that pressure spills over and with it the tears as your chin wobbles and your chest aches

"duh", you press out, voice weak and trembling, and Cassian smiles, bigger and crooked

you realise what that look on his face is when he tucks you into his side and lets you bury your face in his jacket until the tears have died

complete peace.

"Hey."

The quiet, deep voice travels through you, and you shift, grumbling quietly.

There's a soft breathed smile, then warm, rough fingers brush over your cheek, and lips press against your forehead. You can feel them move when the familiar deep voice, soft and rough with sleep, vibrates through you and causes shivers to run over your spine.

"C'mon baby, wake up."

Your heart does a little skip, and the warm haze of sleep slowly slips away. You exhale slowly, then you force open your heavy eyes, and something in your chest rises in a soft flutter.

Azriel's face is only an inch away, all sharp cheekbones and soft lips and tired eyes, and something in your chest dips over at the sight of his warm amber iris dragging over your face.

"Hi,", you mumble, voice thick and raspy with sleep, and the corner of Azriel's lips tips upwards, causing your heart to rise.

With a quiet sound, you shift closer, your arms sliding over his bare shoulders as his dip and wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body until one of your legs drapes over his hip and you're completely pressed together. There's something shifting at the back of your head, keeping you from just burying your face in the warm crook of his neck and going back to sleep -

Your heart misses a beat, your eyes dart up as suddenly, a flutter builds in your chest, and Azriel's lips curve, up and up until his cheek creases.

"There it is." His voice, deep and low, husky with sleep and vibrating with a hint of amusement, sends your heart tumbling as his gaze drags over your face. Then he blinks, and something softens in his eyes, a slow twinkle growing in his iris as his gaze drags over your face. One corner of his lips curves upwards.

"Merry Christmas,", he mumbles, low, deep, and steady.

If your heart hasn't stopped before, it definitely does now, and you need a couple of seconds until it works again. Then a smile spreads over your face, slow but growing until it is ridiculously wide.

"Merry Christmas,", you whisper back, breath hitching and voice thick with sleep and something pulsing and swelling under your ribs.

The twinkle in Azriel's eyes grows; your breath hitches when he dips his head, and something tipping over in your chest when he presses his lips onto yours, warm and slow and unhurried.

He only pulls back once he coaxes a soft sound breaking from your throat. Your heart is thrumming and one corner of his lips has curved lazily as he stares at you, a few strands of hair curving over his forehead, the rest so tousled, you just can't resist burying your fingers in it as warmth spreads through your body and your hearts start fluttering as giddiness starts spreading through your chest.

Slipping your arm tighter around Azriel's neck, you pull him down to kiss him again, deeper and firmer and causing your breath to shudder and Azriel to groan softly. His hand slips under your hoodie, palm slowly roaming up your back with the softest pressure, pushing your closer.

When you pull back, breathing shakily, warmth rushing through you and gather in your cheeks, Azriel nudges his nose against yours, a soft rumble building in his chest.

"Sleeping in on Christmas morning, so rebellious,", he mumbles, and you lightly kick his shin, causing a tired smirk to spread over his face that makes your heart topple and still.

Oh.

Azriel is about to pull you back in and roll you over when suddenly, the door bursts open.

You jump, Azriel huffs and rolls his eyes, and when you crane your neck to look over your shoulder, Cassian is standing in the doorway, only wearing a pair of checkered pyjama pants, hair pulled back haphazardly and grinning wildly.

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. Get your asses out here." He winks. "It's present time."

knowing that he is not going to let up, you grumble and dig yourself out of your blankets

your heart starts hopping as you pull on some pyjama pants and fuzzy socks

Cassian hugs you so tightly, you can't help but fall into a fit of giggles when he lifts you off your feet with a dramatic groan

squeezing you for a solid few seconds in which you squeeze him back with all your might, he lets you slide back to the floor and presses a kiss onto your cheek before letting you pass

Rhys and Mor are already in the living room

the giddy feeling in your chest grows when you sink into Rhys who's sitting on the back of the couch, squeezing his middle tightly and feeling him hug you to his chest, pressing a kiss onto your hair before he straightens and pats your bum

you press a sloppy kiss onto his cheek in revenge that makes his nose crinkle and a snort break from your throat

then you drop down next to Mor on the carpet

you feel like your heart is expanding to impossible sizes when she wraps you up in a ribcrushing hug and leaves kisses all over your face until you giggle

Cass and Azriel come into the living room, and Rhys hugs Azriel so tightly he huffs, but you can see the muscles in his arms straining when he hugs him back

Mor beams up at Az when sinks onto the floor behind you, squeezing her shoulder before he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your neck

and you feel like you might burst

you open your presents, with the tree glittering and the fire crackling

Rhys fangirls over his pot and the pickles

Mor gets teary eyed over the jewellery and leaves more smacking kisses all over your face

and Cassian actually looks like he might be speechless when he unpacks the boxing gloves

he wraps you and Mor up in a hug so tight, you're completely smushed together

you even get a selfie from Feyre with her mugs and a deadpan look that makes you giggle for a solid minute

it's Azriel you're really watching though, as he unwraps the last gift with his name on it

you see him still for a second before he pulls out a very old camera

you feel something twitch nervously in your chest

"I - found it at an antique store. I remember you showed me a similiar one and that you said how difficult it is to find one like it today." you grin lopsidedly. "I got it repaired, it's working again."

Azriel blinks

then he raises his head, and you're pretty sure your heart just stops

because the way he is staring at you is flaring and deep and heated and burning with something that causes your breath to stop

his throat works, and he carefully slides the camera back into its case and places it on the floor

then he reaches out and drags you over the floor until you're trapped between his legs

your heart gets stuck in your throat when his arm slides around your waist

your breath falters when his hand comes up to cradle your face

and the world stills when he pulls you forward and kisses you like it's the first and last time and there's no one else in the room but you

and he doesn't need to say it

you can feel it all in the way his breath shudders when he exhales and somehow pulls you even closer, until you're flush against his chest and your arms wind around his shoulders and he kisses you harder

only Rhys clearing his throat makes you remember you're in fact not alone

something dips over in your chest, and you can feel heat wash over you when you somehow manage to break the kiss, breathing harshly as your fingers dig into Azriel's hair

you pull back a little and look at him, just to really be sure, and your heart tightens at the way he's looking at you

kinda like you're beginning and ending and everything in between

something swells in your chest, begins rising, and you can't help it

you beam at him, your heart thrumming against your ribs, and Azriel drinks it in like he's dying of thirst

you somehow manage to turn in Azriel's arms, curling into him as you stare at your friends that bicker and laugh, and your heart swells when Azriel buries his nose in your hair and holds you like he's not planning on ever letting go

after unwrapping, you have a big, fancy breakfast in the kitchen, with waffles and pancakes and eggs and bacon

you sit curled up in one corner of the couch, with Azriel behind you, chest in your back and arm wrapped around your waist

you spend the day all together

watching Christmas movies, playing boardgames

Rhys drives you all into bankruptcy at Monopoly, twice, and you beat Cassian at trivia (again)

when it gets dark in the afternoon, Rhys disappears into the kitchen, and Mor drags the rest of you to a classical Christmas concert in a church nearby

you all sit together, Azriel and Cassian flanking you and Mor, Azriel's fingers linked with yours

when you inevitably get teary eyed towards the ending, Mor squeezes your other hand and sniffles

when you get back to the flat, you're met with scents more delicious than anything you have ever smelled before

your stomach grumbles, Cassian groans, and Rhys appears in the doorway to the kitchen and grins

"to the table, please"

to say he went all in would be too little

he supplies you with a whole seven course dinner

soups, salads, a whole freaking goose, and two kinds of dessert that make your mouth water even though you already feel like you won't be eating anything until next Christmas

the whole living room is lit

the tree is twinkling, the candles are flickering and the fireplace crackling

Cassian's rambunctious laughter mixes with Mor's ringing giggles and Rhys' deep laughs, and Azriel sits next to you and grins, his arm draped over the back of your chair that he has pulled so close you can feel the side of his body pressing against yours

and you think that maybe, making new traditions was the best idea you ever had

it's really only topped by your decision to move into this flat.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @ailyr92

[tadpolesonalgae]

Vampire!Rhysand Drabble[*]

Warnings: blood drinking, cock warming, smut

Word Count: 1,691

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Cold, icy palms grip your hips steadily, making sure you don’t move an inch.

Hot, burning blood trickles down your throat, tipping over collar bones before being licked up by his tongue.

“Rhys…” you pant, head tipped to the side so he can feed properly. “Please…I need to…” His hips buck beneath you, and you’re silenced, feverish heat washing down your spine, slick dripping down onto him as he keeps you spread out across his lap. “Keep still,” he murmurs over your neck, cold fingers stroking make-believe patterns into your back. “Got to take it for me. Then I can give it to you.”

Fangs prickle your skin, a quiet moan whispering from your lips, desperately trying to follow his hushed orders of being good. Your pulse spikes with arousal, and his grip tightens, evidently able to taste the shift, latching onto it as he drinks deeply, hips grinding subconsciously against the wet heat of your cunt.

Keeping as still as possible, you raise your arms to lift over his shoulders, your left arm sliding down his back, greedily taking in the ripe muscle, your other hand threading through his soft and silky locks, like velvety ink beneath your touch. His tongue licks over the intimate skin of your throat, and your heart jumps with relief as he seals the marks, at last pulling away.

When he meets your gaze, his pupils are blown wide, lips tinted with the red of your blood, features dazed from the deep drink. It has your chest rising and falling against his own, teeth pushing into your lower lip, wondering if you’re yet free to move.

A nervous shift of your hips brings the answer, a rough groan dragging from his chest, brows furrowing in the middle as his eyes slide closed for a second, and you repeat the motion. His own arousal wraps around you, power thrumming in the air as his cock grazes a part that has you gasping, eagerly rolling over top him again, desperate for that feeling.

“Rhys…” you moan, “I need…please…”

He growls, icy fingers biting into your hips, his cold, large palms sliding beneath your thighs as he stands from the chair, parchment rustling as he sets you on his desk, uncaring for the mess you’ll inevitably leave. His soft mouth opens over yours, tongue stroking and flicking as he grinds into you, soft, wet sounds being exchanged intimately in the quiet of the room.

“Hold still for me,” he repeats roughly, the command feathering down your spine as one hand gives an encouraging tap to your shoulder. Heat thrumming beneath your skin, you lay down, the cool leather encasing the wood pleasantly pressing into your spine, trembling fingers searching for something to hang onto. “You did that intentionally earlier, didn’t you?” He asks, and it’s the question you’ve been both anticipating and dreading. Glittering violet settles like a blanket of snow over your skin, and you fight to suppress a shiver, knowing it will only urge him on.

You avert your gaze, but dip your head—he’ll be nicer to you if you’re honest.

“Was it fun?” He asks lowly, something tightening in the air, tension prickling at your mind as sharp, piercing talons scrape idly over tissue-soft walls. So easy to rip into if he wished.

The question registers, and you stiffen.

Eyes flick to his, heat warming your cheeks, and you nod.

White fangs flash in a slow, feline smile, icy thumbs rubbing over the bone of your hips, pulse spiking at the cool calm of his features.

“Think you’ll be doing it again, little lynx?” He asks, something cold and threatening slipping into his demeanour, having the hairs on the back of your neck rise. You hurriedly shake your head, shaky hands moving to grip onto his, but his smile widens in a display of teeth, and you pull them back.

“Mm sorry,” you breathe, nerves wriggling in the pit of your belly. “You were working all day… I just wanted your attention…”

His hard gaze softens almost imperceptibly, icy grip letting up on your hips just a bit. “You wanted my attention, sweet girl?” He prompts, having warmth flush your cheeks as you nod. He sighs, staring down at you on his desk, completely bare and utterly ready for him. The small puncture marks on your throat have healed over, and he already wants another drink, to have you on his tongue as you couple.

“Well you’ve got it now, haven’t you?” He drawls roughly, dragging his hips back until it’s just the tip inside, then pushing forward, pulling you back to meet him, slick slipping out down your thighs. A whispered moan gasps from your lips, eyes meeting as pleasure sparks in your lower belly at last. Nails pierce into the leather, fumbling for words as he starts moving slowly, idle, languid rolls of his hips to taunt and punish you for the disturbances you’d caused.

“You like that?” He chuckles, watching as your eyes squeeze shut, panting deeply as you try to grip onto the desk, spine arching upward, just begging him to attach his mouth over your pretty nipples. He gives in, raising one roughened palm to indulge in his desire, pinching harshly to get your attention. “I asked you a question,” he reminds lowly, thumb brushing the sensitive peak.

You nod quickly, desperate not to disobey.

“I don’t think I’ve taken your capacity for speech,” he muses, violet eyes glinting with hunger as they settle on your mouth. Heat licks down your spine, full to the brim as he continues moving his hips, not enough to get you off but enough to keep you stimulated, aching for more like you have been all day.

“Yes,” you breathe, nearly fumbling your words. “I like it…like you touching me.”

“Oh?” He drawls, again pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers tightly before swiping the pad of his thumb over your wet and sensitive clit. “What about this?”

Your back arches from the table as he presses down, pleasure swarming your nerves as heat bubbles and sizzles in the pit of your belly, begs and pleas on your tongue but unable to voice them. His deep laugh echoes through your mind, heat scorching your senses as he sweeps in on all sides, overstimulation already kicking in, not even at the peak of the night.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he drawls, mirth underlying his tone as the pace increases, his hands keeping you pinned to his desk with the force of his thrusts. Your eyes meet his pleadingly, praying for him to slow down, going from nothing to everything too quickly for you to keep up, already on the brink of losing your mind.

“Rhys…” you cry out, hands grappling as they needfully pull at his. “Please…I can’t—” You lips part in a delicious shape as his hits that spot from earlier, the one that had you so eagerly wanting more.

That spot? He asks, and you can practically see the grin on his lips despite how tightly your eyes are screwed shut. Want me to hit it again? He laughs, hands pulling you back as he slams in. Your head tips back, mouth open as silent moans try to spill from your throat but there’s too much for you to manage. All you can do is grip onto him and take it as he delivers your punishment mercilessly, reaping his own pleasure from your ecstasy.

His cock abuses that part of you again and again, having it memorised since the first time you gave away your weakness, cataloguing it as another spot he can use to his advantage when he wants to see you truly come apart, unraveling on his desk with a cry.

Your fingers fumble, clumsily reaching for him to grab onto, to feel as your high crests over your skin, and he decides to give it to you, lacing his digits with your own, pinning them to the leather of his desk as he cages you in, hips bucking against your hot cunt, feeling as you flutter wildly. Hunger prickles in the back of his mind, arousal permeating the air, driving him to starvation as his discipline breaks beneath the overpowering urge.

Your soft breasts press into his chest as his mouth latches over your throat, reopening those feeding marks, groaning as hot, rich blood burns his tongue, unable to resist tasting your orgasm.

Thighs squeeze him closer, hands gripping one another tight as he fucks you through the high and into the next one, putting pleasure into your bloodstream as tingling heat erupts through your body, rationality fading to animal need as your hips buck against his own. Hot spurts of cum spill into you, and hot tears drip back into your hair, utterly overwhelmed as he dominates your mind, sending in images and short flashes of how his cock sinks into you, the bruises he leaves and the small crescents that often litter his back and shoulders.

That’s it, so good for me, he murmurs into your mind, still grinding into your fluttering cunt, prolonging your orgasm as he feeds and fucks, drawing it out for as long as he can without damaging you.

Rhys pulls away from your throat only in favour of sealing his lips over your own, feeling their warmth seeping into him, cold against hot, stealing from one another in an equal give and take.

Your hands squeeze his, tongue flicking against his own, making his hips buck sharply into yours, the last aftershocks of his high fading as your orgasm washes away, leaving you panting beneath him.

You peer up at him, breathing softly, ankles remaining crossed at his back as you stare into adoring violet.

“Will you be good from now on?” He asks, lips quirked at the edges, hands leaving yours to cup your cheeks. “Not if that’s what I get for it,” you murmur over his mouth, a matching smile softening the corners.

His laugh ghosts across your skin before dipping down a final time, putting a kiss tenderly your lips.

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[velarisdusk]

Moonlit Waltz

Rhysand x Reader

word count: 414 summary: Amidst the festivities of the city, you and Rhysand share a quiet dance in the moonlight, surrounded by the magic of the night and the warmth of each other’s gaze. author's note: im putting off writing VW,MT pt.2 as well as my next series so take this (imagine me throwing this at you like a frisbee) i'll have something of substance up soon i promise

The celebration in Velaris raged on in a symphony of laughter and music, spilling over the streets and mingling with starlight. You and Rhysand slipped away, weaving through lantern-lit paths until you found yourselves in a quiet courtyard bathed in moonlight, far from the bustling crowd.

He turned to you, shadows casting his gaze in soft, inviting darkness. The moon cast silver over his shoulders, glinting in the raven sweep of his hair. He gave a roguish smile, a hint of that charm always lurking in his eyes. “One dance,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvet promise. You hesitated—just for a breath—and then placed your fingers in his, the warmth of his touch sending a quiet thrill through you. The world stilled as he pulled you close, his other hand settling at your waist with a gentleness that felt like it was reserved only for you.

You swayed together, the night air cool but his touch igniting heat wherever he held you. The night seemed to fold around you both as you swayed, guided by an unspoken rhythm. The dance was slow, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your gaze from the way his eyes softened. Shadows clung to him like they belonged, curling around his frame, drawn by the glow of his magic—and perhaps, the magnetic pull between you.

Rhysand’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a silent, intimate gesture. He spun you slowly, your skirts twirling around your ankles, and when you turned back to face him, his smirk had melted into an expression that sent your heart pounding. There was no High Lord here—just Rhysand, the male who looked at you as though each breath between you was sacred. With each turn, the world beyond faded, the distant laughter muffled by the electric pulse between you. 

He lifted your hand, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles before pulling you back into the circle of his arms. You continued moving, your bodies swaying together like waves against the shore, the soft press of his fingers against your back a silent assurance.

The sounds of celebration drifted, faint but present, while you and Rhysand moved through shadows and moonlight. His gaze never left yours, the air between you heavy with words unsaid, promises woven into every step. When he leaned close, your breaths mingling, it was as though the city and its revelry had vanished, leaving just you and him, dancing in the hidden heart of the night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3 @acoazlove @anarchiii @feerique @inkedinshadows @lilah-asteria

@mrsjna @okaytrashpanda @serena-capella @starlightazriel @wildfloweroutlaw

[anama-cara]

swipe right

Rhysand x reader drabble

Summary: After matching on a dating app, you meet Rhysand at your local café for a 1st date. It does not go how you expected. Word count: 2.2k Drabble. AU. Set in the real world. Descriptions of reader’s clothing only. Use of y/n.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving)

You’re sitting in a booth with your back against the wall, facing the door. He’s late. You swirl your cup of coffee in front of you. You know you should have waited for him to order, but you felt bad taking up a table and not ordering anything. You dressed up a bit for your date, but not too much. You don’t want to appear like you’re trying too hard, or be over dressed if he wears something really casual. You wear a black skater skirt and a light blue sweater with a silver pendant.

              Did you just get stood up? You stare at your cup, only a third left. The bell above the door jingles and you look up. The world seems to go quiet and you stare. He’s freaking gorgeous. Darkness seems to ripple out of him. The people chatting around you go quiet for a second. Tall dark and handsome would be an understatement, you think to yourself. You blink and avert your eyes before he can catch you staring. The talking around you starts up again. My gosh he is unbelievably attractive. He was handsome in his profile picture sure, but the photo was a bit farther away and kinda grainy, this… him… Your heart is beating embarrassingly fast.

              He glances around the café and his eyes land on you. Your stomach flutters at the eye contact made. He grins and you began to feel that flutter a little lower. He approaches your table, smoothly. So smooth. He moves silently, full of ease and grace.

              “Y/N?”

              You have to clear your throat before saying, “Yes, nice to finally meet you in person.”

              He drags the chair out from the table and takes a seat across from you. You watch him as he moves and gulp. You watch his hands as he grips the chair, broad and strong, watch the muscles flex in his forearms. His arms were tanned and muscled, his biceps tight under his charcoal short sleeved t-shirt. The shirt also graciously showed off his broad shoulders and chest. You knew underneath there hid a very toned abdomen. You said a silent thank you to the shirt. He wore black jeans and black boots to complete the look. Peeking out underneath his shirt collar you could see whispers of a dark flowing tattoo that swept across his chest. It wound around his biceps too. You had never really been a fan of tattoos but suddenly it seemed like the most attractive thing in the world. That is, until you looked up and met his eyes as he sat down as gazed at you, smiling broadly.

              Shit.

              You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you felt a tug between your legs. His eyes were violet. Impossible. He had violet eyes that seemed to dance in the light. You stared until you realized you were being rude and blinked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed your awe. He did. His devilish grin grew.

              “Hello darling”

              Oh fuuuuck. That velvet voice. You were in trouble alright.

              “Nice to meet you too. This is a charming little place you picked,” he says casually, glancing around the café. He looks back to you. “Cozy,” he says with a wink. A flirt.

              He noticed your already half drunk cup of coffee and frowns. “I’m sorry I was late. A friend of mine, Cass, was in a tight spot and I had to help him out.”

You realize you haven’t spoken a word yet. You were too enthralled with his beauty. You shake your head ever so slightly and ask calmy, “Oh no worries. Is your friend okay?”

              “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied with a cocky smile. “He’s just one of those friends that sometimes does stuff without thinking and trouble always seems to follow them.”

              Just then the waitress arrives and stands next to him to take his order. Very close to him. He gives he order quickly – coffee. Black.

              “Thank you,” he says as she writes it down. His voice is polite and quiet. Not at all like the flirtatious tone he had just been using moments ago, despite the waitress flashing smiles and batting her eyelashes, giving all the obvious signals like you’re invisible. You clear your throat. She throws you a glare before leaving.

              “You look beautiful.” Now his tone is respectful. Sincere. You hide your blush.

              What a flirt. But it was working.

              “Thank you.” You give a little laugh. “You look beautiful too.” He smiles at your compliment.

You chat back and forth about all the normal first date stuff: where you both grew up, what you studied in school, what your favorite book was, what kind of music you listened to. You got to know each other, sipping on coffee and giggling at his shameless flirting. Before you knew it two hours had gone by and the shop was closing.

“Where did you park?” he asks. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m behind the back and down the alley,” you give a shrug. “Free parking.”

He chuckles and stands from his chair, offering you a hand. You take it and he helps you up. He doesn’t let go of your hand. He leads you through the shop to the back door. As you pass the waitress you give her an overly sweet sarcastic smile.

Its late in the afternoon and the sky is a fading blue and the sun sinks into dusk. There’s a street lamp on the road, but the alley is mostly painted in shadows.

He stops and turns to face you. “I had a good time today. When can I see you again?” He’s still holding your hand.

Your mind is blank, he’s so much closer, there’s no table between you, no café full of other people. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by shadow in the still night and he is standing right in front of you, so very close. You could reach out and touch his face, you could…

--

His eyes move back and forth between your own. The slight anxiety he had from you not answering his question instantly vanishes and he clocks your expression. He takes a step forward, closing the space between you. Your hand floats upwards on its own accord and reaches out to cup his jaw. Your eyes never leave his own and you still look dazed. He smiles to himself and takes another step. You instinctively follow his lead, stepping backwards until your back is pressed against the cold alley wall. He lets go of you and cages you against the wall, hands pressed into the concrete on either side of your head. Your beautiful hand is still cupping his face and he leans into your touch closing his eyes a moment to relish in it. When he opens his eyes again you’re still gazing at him and your glossed lips are slightly parted. He lowers his head and leans in closer, whispering against your skin barely inches away.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod and close your eyes. He smiles and takes pauses, taking the image of you in, committing it to memory before he presses his lips to yours.

--

His lips are soft and full as they move against yours, taking your breath away. You lift your head off the wall slightly, deepening the kiss. He reciprocates your eagerness and you part your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. Your hand that was resting on his jaw moves down, lightly sliding along the skin of his neck and collar bone to grip at his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. You hook one leg around his waist to pull his whole body against yours. Any tenderness in that kiss is gone and you are full on making-out. Your body grinds into his and you feel his body tense in response. What is wrong with you? You don’t do this on first dates. You don’t make out with people in dark alleyways. But he has some power of you, there’s just something about him that draws you in and won’t let go. All rational thoughts leave your head as your body takes over, focusing on the feel of his lips against yours, the muscles in his shoulder, the warmth of his body pressed to yours. His right hand drops from the wall and reaches for the leg you looped around him. He hikes your leg up and hold you, slowly running his hand up and down your thigh. Your skin tingles at his touch and you feel yourself getting wetter. His hand moves farther up your thigh and he skims the hem of skirt. He pulls back, gasping. You tilt your head back, leaning it against the wall for support.

“Can I- “

“Please” you immediately respond.

He smirks and leans forward to kiss you again. His hand moves all the way up your thigh, under your skirt and his thumb hooks the waistband of your lacy underwear. He slowly pulls them down, taking his time as his hand brushes against your skin. Not wanting them to fall on the dirty alley floor he tucks them into his back pocket. Maybe you’ll just let him keep them. Then his hand is back on you, gliding up, leaving a trail of electricity at the contact. His touch makes your skin come alive and you arch your back at the feeling.

Gently his fingers reach your core and he runs his middle finger up your seam. He groans into your mouth at the feeling of your wetness. It drags up and down a few times tantalizingly, then circles your entrance to gather slick before sliding back up to your clit. He flicks it then begins rubbing slow circles. You moan into his mouth as he plays with you. His finger glides back down and pushes into you, curling against your wall in the most wonderful way. You break the kiss as you tilt your head back into the wall, pressing against it as your back arches and your hips roll into his hand. He brings his lips to your chin that juts out, leaving a kiss before his open lips trail down your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. Your having trouble figuring out where to focus, his mouth or his hand. He presses his lips into the hollow of your throat then into the bit of cleavage visible above the V-neck collar of your sweater. He sucks on the soft flesh of your breast as he continues to slide his finger in and out of you. It feels so good and you let out a strangled little noise. His hand stills and leaves you to rest on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to yours and his lips leave your flesh.

“Are you sure?” He asks. His violet eyes are gleaming and eager.

You nod as you reach for his pants in response. You unbutton his jeans and look up to meet his eyes again as you slowly lower his zipper. He is completely still; you think he may even be holding his breath. Your fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans and boxers at his hips. With both hands you tug them down till they rest on his thighs. Even in the low lighting you can tell that his cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him. But he doesn’t give you any time to admire it. He leans you back against the wall again and hooks your leg back around him, holding just below your knee. He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back to wrap a large hand around his thick cock and guiding it into your entrance. He pauses there to read your eyes again before slowly pushing all the way into you. Once he is inside you, he breathes deeply. His hand brushes against your cheek affectionately before he places it back onto the wall. He shits his weight forward, leaning against his hand and thrusting even farther into you, pushing your own hips into the wall. He hits something deep inside you and you let out a moan. Spurred on by your sounds he pulls out halfway then thrusts back into you as he sets up a pace.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building.

“Rhysand I’m-“

“Me too darling.” He replies with a grunt as he deepens his movements.

And then you’re contracting around him, holding onto him as you ride your waves of pleasure. Your hand is squeezing his shoulder and your pussy is squeezing his cock as you cling to him. Just as you’re coming down you feel him quickly pull out. He strokes his cock and points it at the alley wall beside you but he sees you lift your skirt up and groans loudly as he spills on your lower stomach. It trickles down onto your mound and your sensitive core.

He lets out a shaky breath and leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, his cock pressed against your sticky stomach. You feel his chest rise and fall against yours and his hot breath on your back.

“Tomorrow. I’m free tomorrow.” You say and he laughs. It’s a bright, beautiful laugh and you smile underneath him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder then your lips.

“Good.”

[redbleedingrose]

This is Rhys with his ass slapping

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR3J1meA/

You know....

This truly screams Cass to me!

Don't get me wrong!!!! Rhys is smacking your ass whenever he gets the chance.

But I feel like his can range from a light tap (so you know he is there and watching you kinda situation) to making sure his spank leaves a mark (usually when you're being extra spicy around him ;)

Cassian, on the other hand, is out to bruise your ass every. single. time.

Bastard Illyrian male has NO SHAME!!!!! He is smacking your ass this hard in PUBLIC!!!! In front of the INNER CIRCLE!!!! HIS HIGH LADY AND LORD?!?!?!? They are sick of his antics!!!

But all of them cackle at every meeting or dinner when you struggle to sit down on the couch, squirming around cuz you can barely sit on your ass comfortably cuz of the general's incessant need to mark it.

Don't worry though, he kisses the bruises all better and makes sure to rub some cream on the marks with his large warm hands. He might grope your ass while he's at it, but he's gonna take care of his pretty little mates ass no matter what <3

[apollodarling-writes]

Can you write a dialogue between Yandere High lord Rhysand from ACOTAR and male reader about after reader escaped and ran away from his wedding/mating ceremony and Rhysand catches reader agian maybe you could add smut of Rhys forces reader to accept the mating bound and then Rhysand goes through a feranzy and Reader going through heat. If it to much you don’t have too and I couldn’t see if your requests are open or not 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

yan! high lord rhysand with a male! reader who ran away from their mating ceremony

cws : yandere themes, dubcon elements if you squint, forced mating bond, reader in heat (i hope i did this well enough), rhysand in a frenzy, kidnapping, mind-break implied, mean! rhysand, dom! rhys + sub! reader, toxic! rhys, reader whimpers, throatfucking, magic used to aid in a penile and anal stimulation, darkness used for added stimulation, idk the extent of rhysand's powers but i imagine he can do wtv the hell he wants, uhhh dacryphilia, overstim, possessive! rhys, kinda degradation??, the term pretty is used but its in a degrading way, he calls you little mate, spanking, handjob, ball-fondling??????, literal marking, mate marking, a little bit of blood bc of biting,

mdni !!

author note : this is my first time writing for an amab reader. if its not any good, im so so sorry. i did try really hard. idk much about amab anatomy or what it feels like so pls forgive me. i hope this was good and i hope it was what you were looking for!!

it was safe to say that rhysand was livid. after all that he’s done for you, he only asked that you accepted the mate bond, but you couldn’t even do that. a snarl tears through his lips as he orders his inner circle to immediately begin searching for you. feyre was long gone— he’d made sure to ship her back off to tamlin after he’d made a deal to use the cauldron to create a mating bond with you.

rhysand was sure that you knew. it was no wonder that you’d try to run from him, but he thought you knew better. this was supposed to be a special night for the two of you. you were supposed to go through with your part of the mating ceremony, the two of you would fuck on every surface of the home he had built for this purpose specifically, then he would announce you as his husband— his mate. but of course, you just had to be a brat.

rhysand tugged on the bond, a spike of fear being sent through from your end. he was silently glad that he hadn’t taught you everything he did feyre— he could enter your mind whenever he pleased without worrying about you shutting him out.

“i’ll find you, little mate. you can’t run from me forever.”

he makes sure to send a fraction of his rage through the bond before shutting it off completely. that’ll send you into a state of panic, make your movements sloppy, blah blah blah. it’ll be a piece of cake.

it doesn’t take long before azriel finds you. shit, azriel has been keeping his mate captive, so it’s no wonder he’d be so willing. rhysand is quick to winnow to your location — only a few miles from the border of the night court. you must've had help...

“hello, little mate.” rhysand purrs, fingers darting out to grip your collar. he watches with a sick pleasure as your eyes widen with fear, your hands desperately trying to claw his off of you; it was futile. rhysand winnows the two of you back to your home feeling his cock grow hard the more you struggle against his grip.

“if you want to be a brat, then i’ll fuck it out of you.” rhysand growls. “but first, you’ll make me something to eat.”

rhysand ushers you to the kitchen, his grip shifting to the back of your neck as he harshly pushes you forward. a cold chill runs down your spine as you make him something simple— you didn’t want to further incur his wrath. after plating it, rhysand quickly eats it, his gaze shifting to you.

even an idiot would realize that they’d fucked up royally. with the way rhysand’s gaze darkens, hungry and lustful in nature, your senses picking up on the pheromones he was subconsciously releasing. the scent of him was heavy-- citrus and sea numbing your mind as your body grows hot. your cock sits heavy in your pants, straining against the fabric as rhysand pounces on you, his wings encasing the two of you as he presses himself against you.

rhysand rocks his cock against yours once, twice, three times, before slipping his hand into your pants. his digits wrap around your length, smearing pearls of precum along your shaft as he strokes you. a whimper parts your lips and rhysand takes the opportunity to slot his lips against yours. his tongue is quick to claim the new territory, his free hand gripping your hip as he pulls away from you. with a wave of his hand, you stand bare before him, body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"on your knees, little mate." an unseen force followed by a metallic twang forces you to kneel before him, jaw slackening as far as your bone structure would allow. rhysand's dark eyes are blown wide as his clothing dissipates, his hand reaching down to cup the base of his manhood. it was unbelievably large-- based on his wingspan, you knew it would be above average, but this? it was monstrous. you briefly wonder if it would tear you in half.

rhysand slides the tip of his cock along your tongue, the magic swirling around you flattening the muscle in your stead, and one hand cups the back of your head as he bottoms out. tears spring from your eyes, the rough pads of the high lord's fingers gingerly brushing them away as he coos at you. "you can take it."

a gurgled protest on your end elicits a throaty groan from the man above you, his cock throbbing as he slowly thrusts in and out of your throat, a rippling pleasure taking over his senses. rhysand's pace gradually increases, drool dripping down your chin as he wields the darkness around you to prep your ass and stroke your length. the pain and pleasure of both send you into a frenzy-- the pathetic whimpers you release only stimulate your mate further.

"fuck... doin' so good for me, baby."

it doesn't take much for you to cum; the cool touch of his magic combined with the stimulation on your g-spot became too much, your body quickly becoming overstimulated.

"baby, im gonna cum." rhysand announces, his eyes screwing shut as his thrusting becomes more aggressive and powerful. "fuck, fuck-- keep crying for me. y'look so pretty."

rhysand's hips still, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat as he roars in pleasure. his lips curl into a sneer as he directs his attention to you, and with another wave of his hand, you're bent over the counter. "d'ya think you'd ever escape me? i'm the most powerful high lord there has ever been, and will ever be. you will never, ever fucking escape me."

rhysand brings a heavy hand down on your ass over and over, stinging your flesh and forcing a sob from your throat. "i-i'm sorr-"

"i know you are. you're always sorry." he snarls, his thick cock slotting between your walls and slowly filling you to the brim. the darkness curls around your manhood once more, stroking it agonizingly slow as he speaks. "have you ever thought about how your actions make me feel? hm?"

your mate chuckles mirthlessly as you shake your head. "i know you don't-- because i've been blessed with a pitifully selfish mate."

rhysand suddenly begins thrusting into you at a harsh pace, the sensation bringing tears to your eyes as your fumble to grip onto something. you whine as your mate orders the darkness surrounding him to bind your hands behind your back, wrapping an arm around your midsection to hold you upright. "feel good, pretty boy?"

you babble in response, too overstimulated and fucked dumb to form a proper sentence, causing rhys to smirk victoriously. "do you think any other man in this world could fuck you as wonderfully as i do?"

all you can do is sob in response, coming undone beneath your furious lover. your seed spills to the flooring, your cockhead flushed an angry red as the tendrils continue their onslaught.

"rhys!" you cry. "'ts too much!"

"fucking take it. i know you can," he pants. "tonight is about me; i'll be gentle the rest of this month, but you've really pissed me off, little mate."

you feel your mind begin to slip at his words, melting into a pretty mush as he fills you up-- his hips never once stopping despite the growls he releases and the way his fingers dig into your flesh.

"that's it, pretty boy. give into the pleasure." rhys purrs, pressing your back to his chest and stroking your cock himself. his magic teasingly cups your balls, gently kneading the soft flesh and bringing you closer and closer to your next release. "cum f'me, baby. i know you can do it."

your mate's lips trail along your shoulder, nipping an sucking as if he were searching for a spot in particular. his teeth sink into an area on your throat that has you screaming in pleasure, your body tensing and twitching in his grasp as you release into his hand. "there we go, baby. wasn't so hard, was it?"

rhysand's tongue darts out to soothe the area, lapping at the blood that dribbles from the wound and staining his teeth crimson. he reaches his hand up, licking your cum off of his fingers, then presses tender kisses to your shoulder.

"now you can't leave me."

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Lovers' Day

A/N: This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would celebrate Valentine's Day with their S/O. Enjoy!

Azriel

Azriel didn’t need words to show love. He never had. 

He let his actions speak for him, the way he always seemed to be there, anticipating your needs before you voiced them.

So when you woke up on Lovers’ morning, you didn;t think much of it. It was just another day. Azriel never made a fuss about things like this, and honestly, you had completely forgotten.

But Azriel, well, he never forgot anything when it came to you. And this time, he had planned ahead, with a little help from Rhys.

A week prior, Rhysand had informed you about an incoming mission. A simple infiltration, something requiring subtlety and mingling. The only strange thing was that Rhys had specifically told you to wear something nice, to blend in. It had seemed odd at the time, but you had dismissed it and agreed without question. 

Now, standing on the roof of the House of Wind, you found Azriel waiting for you, arms crossed, face unreadable. But instead of his usual Illyrian leathers, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

You blinked. “Oh, you’re also going to blend in tonight? Not staying in the Shadows as always?” 

His lips twitched slightly, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. “Something like that.” 

There was a subtle smile tugging at his lips, but he said nothing more as he extended a hand to you. You took it gladly, intertwining your fingers with his scared ones.

The familiar pull of winnowing wrapped around you, and when the world settled again, you found yourself atop one of the highest rooftops in Velaris. The city stretched out below like a sea of stars, the Sidra reflecting the soft glow of faelights. 

And in front of you-

A single candlelit table, dinner spread out with  precision only he could manage. Your favorite cuisine, appetizers, carefully arranged, two glasses of Rhysand’s most expensive wine waiting to be poured.

But that wasn’t all. On the ground beside the table lay a large, thick blanket, with two more folded ones resting at the side. A woven basket sat nearby, promising more hidden surprises.

You turned to face him, and he was already watching you standing so close his hands easily found your waist. He still hadn’t spoken much, letting the weight of the moment settle between you.

“Az…” Your voice was soft, uncertain. “What’s this?”

His thumb brushed over your hip, his gaze never leaving yours. “Do you like it?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You looked at the table again, at the small details that spoke volumes, how much he had thought about this, how much he knew you. “Th- this is for me?” Your brows furrowed in confusion as your mind caught up. “I thought we were supposed to be- wait, what about the mission?”

He shook his head, a small secretive smile playing on his lips. “There’s no mission, baby.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “Then what about Rhy- Oh. Oh!” You turned back to him, realization dawning. “You planned this with him, didn’t you?”

His lips parted slightly, watching the way your face lit up in understanding. He nodded, his smile growing when he saw yours. “I wanted to do something for you.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. Without thinking, you closed the small space between you, stepping onto your toes as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s perfect,” you whispered against him.

His shadows curled around your wrist, a silent response, as he intertwined his fingers with your and led you toward the table. 

You glanced toward the blankets, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “What’re those for?” 

Azriel pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before settling in across from you. “I thought we could watch the stars together after dinner,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “The blankets are just in case it gets cold.”

You smiled, warmth radiating through you, not from the candlelight or the wine, but from the male sitting in front of you, the one who loved you in the quietest, most breathtaking ways.

Cassian

Cassian wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, or throwing surprises. He was too impatient for that. 

So on Lovers’ Day, he burst into your room at the crack of dawn, grinning like a fool. “I challenge you,” he announced.

You groaned, barely awake, propping yourself up on your elbows as you blinked blearily at him. “Cassian,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes, “What in the Mother’s name are you on about? A challenge to what?”��

He folded his arms over his broad chest, expression smug. “An arm-wrestling match.”

You snorted. “Oh?” You raised a brow, an amused smile curving your lips. “Or…you could just tell me what you want, since we both know that you’d win.”

His grin widened as he sank onto the edge of the bed, looming over you. “A kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “You get kisses every day, Cass. Come on, tell me what you really want.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “I want to take you out for breakfast.” His fingers brushed along your arm, making your skin prickle. “And then, I have a little gift for you.” His grin turned downright wicked as he added, “As for my gift…I want you.” 

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, low, certain, possessive. But before you could respond, he continued, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation build. “Lying in bed tonight,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “with nothing on but a ribbon…while you wait for me.”

Your jaw dropped. Then, without hesitation, you grabbed the nearest pillow and  threw it at him. Cassian caught it with ease, laughing as he tackled you onto the mattress, pinning you beneath him. His hands pressed into the sheets beside your head. “Happy Lovers’ Day, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing over the curve of your neck. 

And judging by the way his body pressed against yours, you knew he wasn’t going to let you leave this bed anytime soon.

Rhysand

Rhysand had been smirking all evening.

He had something planned. He always did, but you weren’t sure what, and that was what made you suspicious.

The two of you sat comfortably in the living room, a deck of cards between you, glasses of expensive wine half-full. Rhys dealt the next round, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief.

“If you win,” he mused, “I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you desire.”

You arched a brow. “And if you win?”

His smirk widened. “You’ll have to find out.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined to beat him at his own game. But always, Rhys played dirty. Lingering touches, whispered words in your mind, distractions that made your thoughts fog over.

When he laid down his winning hand, you groaned, glaring at him. “Fine. What do you want?”

Rhys leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear, his voice a slow, sinful purr. “You. Every second of tonight, in whatever way I please.”

Your heart skipped a beat, throat tightening. Not that you were complaining. Or that he didn’t already have you however he pleased often. You swallowed hard, shrugging in what you hoped was a nonchalant gesture. “Fine.”

Before you could blink, darkness surrounded you, and the next thing you knew, you were standing on a balcony overlooking Velaris, the city glowing beneath the moonlight. Rhys stood behind you, his hands sliding to your waist as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “Open your eyes.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the anticipation. Rhys always found a way to surprise you, ways to keep you on your toes. And you never knew whether the night would be one of slow seduction or raw passion.

Your lips parted in surprise as you took in the sight before you. “Oh.”

The bastard smirked. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

You turned to him, mock glaring. “In my defense, you were insinuating something else.”

“You have a dirty mind, darling,” he teased, his grin widening as your glare deepened. 

Before you could retort, he leaned down again, his voice brushing against your skin like silk. “Don’t worry, you weren’t wrong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before lowering his lips to your ear once more, drawing out every word, slow and deliberate. “But first, dinner.” A pause, then, just as your breath caught- “I’m feeding you before I feast on you.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks as you smacked his chest. “Rhys!”

He chuckled, catching your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Come on, darling,” he murmured, tugging you inside.

Lucien

Lucien was a hopeless romantic. He spoiled you every day and every night. But today, he was determined to spoil you even more. 

You woke to the softest of touches, featherlight kisses pressed to your face, the warmth of his lips trailing along your jaw. A gentle hum rumbled in his chest, the only indication of his presence as he continued his slow, unhurried worship.

It was only when you stirred, a sleepy murmur escaping your lips, that he finally spoke, his voice low and affectionate. 

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned softly, your voice husky with sleep. “Mm, morning.”

Lucien chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before tilting your chin up. “Come on, wake up. I’ve planned a lot today, starting with breakfast.”

When you finally opened, you saw a beautifully arranged tray sitting on the bedside table. Your favorite fruits and pastries, along with a delicate teapot filled with your preferred brew Everything meticulously placed, because of course Lucien would make sure the presentation was just as perfect as the taste. 

“Lucien,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the effort he had put into this. “You shouldn’t have.”

He only smiled, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “Of course, I should. You deserve nothing less.”

After breakfast, he led you outside, winnowing the two of you to the Dawn Court.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the golden hues of the rising sun reflecting off the crystal clear lakes, soft melodies of birdsong filling the air. Everything about the Dawn Court was serene, ethereal, and today, he had planned the most romantic day imaginable.

The day unfolded like a dream. Horseback riding through rolling meadows, Lucien effortlessly guiding the reigns with one hand while keeping you steady with the other. Then, a private boat ride on the lake, where he reclined lazily, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand trailing absentmindedly through the water as you talked about everything and nothing at all.

As the day faded into twilight, Lucien winnowed you both to a quiet hilltop overlooking the sunset. The sky was a masterpiece of oranges and violets, the cool breeze tangling your hair as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close against his chest. His chin rested atop your head, his heartbeat steady against your back.

That night, after winnowing back home, he sat you down in front of the fireplace, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled a folded letter from his pocket. His amber eye flickered with emotion as he met your gaze. “I wrote this before we were together,” he admitted, handing it to you. “I never had the courage to send it.”

You carefully unfolded the paper, your breath catching as you read the words, his confession, his longing, the love he had harbored in silence for so long. The ink was slightly smudged, as if he had gone over the words countless times, his heart laid bare on the page.

When you finished, your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Lucien…”

But before you could say anything more, he reached for another paper,  his lips quirking into a shy smile. “That was then. But now…” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. 

And then, he recited a poem. A poem he had written just for you. His voice was deep, smooth, steady, filled with adoration and reverence. Every line a promise, every syllable laced with love, By the time he finished, your heart was a mess of warmth and something else. You didn’t hesitate before launching yourself into his arms, kissing him deeply, hungrily, whispering his name like a vow.  Lucien chuckled against your lips, holding you tight, as if he never planned to let go.

“You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered, and you knew, he meant every word.

Eris

Eris did not do romance. 

He scoffed at the very idea of Lovers’ Day, calling it foolish, a ridiculous excuse for people to parade their affection like desperate fools. 

And yet- he still sent for you.

Later that evening, you arrive at your usual meeting point between your two courts. Eris was already there, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his face carefully impassive.

He was fiddling with something- a small box, rolling it between his fingers.

 When he saw you approaching, he straightened forcing himself into stillness, his voice carefully nonchalant. “You came.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You said it was urgent. What’s wrong this time?” 

His smirk was slow, calculated. “It was urgent. I needed to see you.” He pushed off the tree, approaching you with lazy, confident steps, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed something deeper. He stopped just in front of you, holding out the small box. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You raised a brow but took it anyway, fingers brushing over the carefully wrapped edges. “I thought you didn’t believe in this holiday?”

He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t. I just…” His jaw ticked as he glanced away. “Wanted to get you something.”

A smirk curled on your lips. “Ah, and it just happens to be on this specific day?”

His eyes snapped back to you, sharp as embers. “Don’t push your luck.” 

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You really called me all the way here for this? You’re starting to make a habit out of it. Next time, I might not-”

You didn’t get to finish the sentence. Because in a single, swift movement, Eris closed the distance, grasped your face, and crashed his lips against yours.

The heat of him was blistering, unbearable- yet you couldn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. 

The kiss was measured yet scorching, each calculated movement knocking the breath from your lungs. His mouth moved with slow precision, as if he were branding himself into you, as if he hated how much he wanted this but couldn’t stop himself.

When he finally pulled back, you smirked against his lips, murmuring, “Next time, lead with that.”

His grip tightened slightly on your chin, his thumb brushing over your jaw in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, before tilting your head up and kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier, as if he were making damn sure you’d never forget the way he tasted- like fire and temptation, like something dangerous you’d willingly burn for.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Rhysand Jealous sex, how would it be?

did a little drabble again, hope you like it, here you go❤️ minors DNI

"Who is the only male that can fuck you like that, huh?" Rhys ruts into you, his majestic wings flared behind his broad shoulders, his large hand fisting your hair, as he towers behind you. "You are," you pant, pleasure clouding your mind as you squeeze your eyes closed. You try to match his pace, rubbing your ass against his hips. He only thrusts into you faster, harder, pushing your further into the mattress. The sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin is accompanied by your lewd noises of pleasure, as the High Lord shows you exactly who you belong to and that there will never be another male in your life than him.

"Are you so sure about that?" he growls and stills for a moment so he can slap your ass and then he returns to his relentless pace. You know you will still see the imprint of his broad hand there tomorrow. "Not that waiter you smiled at so prettily? Huh? You think he can fuck you like this?"

"Never," you moan, feeling how the broad head of his cock touches the oh so damnable spot inside of you. He stretches you out to the maximum, filling you the brim as he moves into you over and over again, fucking you with the strength of an Illyrian warrior and the force of the most powerful High Lord. 

"Then say my name," he growls, leans down and kisses your spin. "Scream it for all of Velaris to hear." And you do as told, crying out his name in pure pleasure. 

"Louder! I want the whole of Velaris to know that you are mine and only mine." He fists your hair tighter, pulling sharply before letting go and curling his arm around the base of your throat so he can pull you up to his chest. With your slick back flush to his chest, he captures your earlobe between his teeth, speaking in the sultriest tone possible, his voice like a purr. "I want the whole of Velaris to know that I am the only one who can fuck you like that. That you only make those sounds when you are riding my cock. Now, be a good girl and make me proud. When you come, only with my name on your lips." 

He lets you fall back to the bed, hands hitting the mattress. He slaps your rear one more time, feeling how your walls clench around him, his own length twitching and pulsing inside of you. You come simultaneously, he with a growl that has the mountains shaking, you with your mate's name on your lips. 

[itsthedoodle]

Tiny Ancient Pup

For @officialrhysandweek 🩵

A drabble for day 5: Family Man

Rhysand winnowed right outside of the gate to the River House, mindful of the small mass of fur in his arms. Truth be told, he had no idea how he had been roped into this but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

It had started like a very casual day the other week—he had spent the morning with Nyx, treating him to breakfast first and then an uninterrupted day of just the two of them, which was something they did regularly. Growing up, he hadn’t had a doubt his mother loved him, but his father had been cold and distant with both children, which had led to Rhys swearing his own children would never doubt they were loved.

It was during one of these uninterrupted days, while on a walk around Velaris, that they had stopped at the animal shelter, and it was precisely at that moment his current problem had begun. Rhys had been taking Nyx to the shelter ever since he was old enough to walk, and Nyx loved spending hours playing with the animals, but he had never really expressed anything beyond a reluctance to part with them.

Nyx had been quiet on their way home, and he hadn’t said anything the rest of the day either. It had only been during dinner, when he had pushed his food around the plate the way Feyre did when something was bothering her that Rhys had realized something was going on.

He had tried sensing the root of the problem, but his son’s mental shields had been up and tight, the way they had drilled it into him from the moment he had been old enough to manage them. Rhys had chosen to give him space to sort it out, trusting him to bring it up whenever he felt ready.

Which had been two hours later as soon as Rhys had tucked him in for the night.

“Dad? I really like spending time at the shelter.”

Rhys had simply smiled and kissed his forehead. “I know, me too. Most of all, I like spending time with you.”

Nyx had reached up and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, hugging him. “Me too.” He had then pressed his face against Rhys’s shoulder and had mumbled in superspeed “Canwegetadog?”.

Rhys had simply blinked. “A dog?”

“Yeah. There's this one, she’s really sweet.” Nyx had looked up at him with his own puppy eyes. “I’ll take care of her myself, I swear. And I know how to teach her stuff, she’ll be good.”

He had told Nyx he would think about it, and when he had shared this with Feyre, she had simply laughed and wished him good luck.

So here he was, days later, dog in his arms. Rhys had asked the Fae male at the shelter about it, and he had shown him the one dog that would always act weird whenever Nyx left, and get overly excited when he visited again. The one year old pup had soft, wavy gray fur all over, eyes round and dark. She had looked very standoffish, but had not complained when Rhys had picked her up, and was now simply looking at him with the kind of disregard and coldness that would make most feel uncomfortable.

Nyx had claimed she was sweet, and while Rhys didn’t doubt him, he was having a hard time seeing it.

He repositioned her on his right forearm, and opened the door, entering the house, finding the foyer empty. Rhys reached out a mental talon, softly tapping on Nyx’s mental gates.

Nyx let him know he was coming, and Rhys set the dog down next to his feet, where she simply wagged her tail excitedly.

Almost as if she knew who was coming.

The moment she saw Nyx, she broke into a sprint, jumping at his feet like a bouncing ball.

Nyx let out an excited squeal, lowering himself on his knees as he started scratching the pup’s belly.

Rhys simply observed the two of them, all his worries regarding this being a wise decision disappearing.

“I’m assuming she is the one you meant?”

Nyx, who had started crying, wiped his tears and ran to him, and Rhys lowered himself to collect his son in a hug.

“Thank you, dad.” Nyx shook in his arms, half from excitement, half from sobs. “I love you.”

Rhys kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too. What will you name her?”

Nyx pulled away, sniffing. “Weeeell… about that…”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, unsure where the conversation was going but fully convinced it was going to cost him his sanity.

“I kind of already gave her a name months ago when I first saw her. She has grey fur, and looks unfriendly but is generally harmless once you get to know her so you know, it reminded me of Amren… so her name is Amren.”

Rhys blinked, unsure if he was hearing correctly. “You named the dog Amren… like the Amren?”

Nyx nodded sheepishly. “How mad can she be? Uncle Cass calls her an angry snowball every time it snows and he’s still alive, limbs intact.”

Rhys suppressed a groan, and muttered a prayer to the Mother.

[lalacliffthorne]

sometimes all you need is cuddles. and a nap. not specifically in that order.

(this made me melt. I might need cuddles now as well. *sighs deeply* these modern!batboys drabbles really scratch an itch in my brain.)

Letting the door fall shut behind me, I felt something warm shift under my ribs at the soft sound of the piano floating into the hall, chasing away some of the heavyness that had settled on my chest.

Slowly kicking off my shoes, I started shuffling towards the door to my room as the sound of the piano stopped, and a few seconds later, Rhys appeared in the door to the living room. He looked a little tired, his hair more tousled than usual, a strand sticking out at the side that made me want to reach out and smooth it down, but there was a trace of the usual twinkle in his nearly violet eyes.

"Hello." Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, Rhys sent me a light grin, a soft dimple forming in his cheek when he raised an eyebrow. "Respectfully, love, you look like shit."

I blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then I furrowed my brows in confusion. "What about that was respectful?"

Rhys grinned, and I huffed and breathed out, my bottom lip jutting out in a pout as I blinked tiredly and mumbled: "I need cuddles." I crunched my brows a little. "And a nap."

Rhys' lips curved. "That order a necessity or -"

"Nope." I shook my head, and breathing a soft chuckle, Rhys pushed off the doorframe, his eyes twinkling a little.

"Nap?"

Breathing out and turning around, I mumbled: "Let me get these clothes off."

"Not that kinda nap, darling."

"Oh, piss off."

I heard Rhys chuckle behind me and felt my lips curve into a soft grin, then I pushed open the door to my room.

Two minutes later, I trudged through Rhys' door, the scent of something warm and citrusy hitting me as I pulled the sleeve of my oversized sweatshirt over my hands. Rhys was already stretched out on his huge mattress, his eyes closed, and I just unceremoniously flopped down next to him, shuffling around to curl into his side and dropping my head onto his chest.

Rhys shifted in the spot, his arm wrapping over my shoulder and squeezing, and I tiredly poked his side.

"Why were you playing?"

I felt Rhys' chest rise and fall with a sigh, and when I peaked up at him, there was a soft crunch to his brows, his deep voice quiet when he mumbled: "Just needed a break."

Something tightened gently in my chest, and humming, I buried my nose in his hoodie again, my eyes slowly closing a little as I felt Rhys shift, patting my head a little.

"Why were you looking like you got rained on by a big cloud?"

This time, I was the one to sigh.

"Dunno." Feeling the gentle weight on my chest, I shrugged. "Jus' one of those days." I snuggled closer into his side, and Rhys gave a soft sound of acknowledgement.

Breathing out, I reached up and uncoordinatedly patted my hand over his face until he chuckled.

"'m sorry you´re feeling shitty,", I mumbled.

Rhys sighed, but I felt the crease in his cheek against my palm. "I'm sorry you look shitty."

I crunched my brows and tried to flick his forehead. I hit his nose instead, and a giggle broke from my lips when Rhys winced, grumbling under his breath.

"Sorry." I grinned into his hoodie, and Rhys huffed, pulling my hand away from his face, but I heard the way his lips curved when he mumbled: "Love you."

I smiled. "Love you too, Rhysie."

Rhys flicked my ear, and I giggled before breathing out. Curling into his side, I closed my heavy eyes, feeling myself slowly drift away to the rhythmic rise and fall of Rhys' chest.

Tiredly shifting in the spot, I buried my nose in the pillow I was clinging to as the haziness of sleep slowly pulled away. The sheets smelled dark and warm and citrusy and definitely not like my own.

"Hey."

The soft, low voice, just vibrating the tiniest bit with the trace of amusement made something skip gently against my ribs, then a warm hand wrapped around my ankle, squeezing gently, and furrowing my brows, I squinted, raising my head as I blinked disorientedly.

My eyes flickered over the room that was not my own, and the gentle weight on my chest shifted a little, reminding me where I was and why - until my gaze landed on the person sitting on the edge of Rhys' huge mattress, tall frame turned towards me, amber eyes warm in the half light and flickering over my face.

Grumbling softly, I dropped my head back onto the pillow someone seemed to have gently maneuvered into my arms. For a moment, I felt the warmth and haziness of sleep slowly pull away, then I laboriously sat up, rubbing a hand over my eyes. Pushing a strand of hair out of my face, I raised my head, and something skipped gently against my ribs when I blinked at Azriel, sending him a crooked, tired smile.

"Hi."

Azriel's lips curved the tiniest bit, but there was a soft crease between his brows as his gaze flickered over my face, and something rose in my chest at the silent question in his eyes.

"Just one of those days,", I mumbled, my voice still a little hoarse from sleep as I felt my lips rise, and Azriel blinked, the crunch of his brows smoothing a little.

"You okay?"

His deep, low voice sent tingling shivers through my body, warm and steady and slow, and I felt my lips rise just a little more, the small weight on my chest pulsing a little.

"Yep." I blinked and furrowed my brows, feeling my lips purse in a pout as I rubbed my eyes. "I think I might've overdone it with the nap though." I crunched my brows. "I feel like I need another one."

Azriel huffed, but there was a soft twinkle in his eyes as they moved over my face. "Anything else?"

I breathed out. "Cuddles. I need cuddles."

For a moment, Az stared at me. Then he leaned forward, and my heart got stuck in my throat when his hand slipped into between my legs, closing around the inside of my thigh and dragging me over the mattress. My breath hitched as something in my chest dipped and fell, then Azriel dipped down and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his lap, and when my eyes met his, wide and frozen, one corner of his lips just quirked gently. This close, I could see the golden specks in his eyes, and the curve of his lashes, and the sharpness of his cheekbones over the trace of a crease right next to his lips.

"Okay." His voice vibrated through me, warm and steady and amused, and I blinked, feeling something flutter against my ribs.

Azriel huffed softly, then his hand slipped up my back, gently pulling me forward and tucking me into his chest. His arms came around me, wrapping me up in a warm hug as he propped his chin onto my head; something rose under my ribs, and without being able to help it, without wanting to, I slowly melted into him.

I didn't know how long I was curled up in Azriel's arms, but it was long enough for his scent to fill my lungs and for me to completely bury myself in his chest. His thumb was brushing over my shoulder, and his grip was shifting between gentle and relaxed to squeezing gently.

Finally, I straightened slowly, pulling back, my fingers slipping from where they had curled into his sweatshirt, and when I raised my head, my breath got stuck somewhere in my lungs.

Azriel's nose was just an inch away, the golden flecks in his eyes dancing softly as they slowly moved over mine, deep and twinkling just the tiniest bit.

Swallowing, I pulled back my head a little and felt my cheeks flush softly, and Azriel's arms slipped from my shoulders as one corner of his lips curved.

There was a deep, muffled call of Azriel's name from outside, and Az rolled his eyes, but it broke the way his gaze seemed to have bound mine.

I blinked, then I huffed and slid off his lap, and Azriel pushed himself to his feet as I clambered off the mattress. Stretching, I shook myself off a bit, blinking and crunching my brows, and Azriel's lips curved. Then his chest bumped into my back, and something tipped over under my ribs when his hands closed over my shoulders and he gently started to push myself towards the door.

In the hall, I could already hear Cassian and Rhys bicker. Az gently nudged me into the kitchen, and I felt my lips curve at the sight of Cassian trying to sneak his spoon into the big pot on the stove and Rhys fending him off with a spatula.

"Fucking hell,", Azriel mumbled drily somewhere above me, and I felt a soft giggle build in my throat.

"Hey..." Cassian tossed his spoon into the sink and opened his arms, and I flopped into his chest readily, burying my nose in his t-shirt as Cass wrapped me up in a warm, tight hug. I could feel him drop his head to lean his chin onto my head, swaying me gently from side to side as he mumbled: "You okay, sweets?"

I smiled into his chest. "'m better."

"Yeah?" Cassian pulled back his head, and when I tipped mine back to look up at him, his huge hands came up to frame my face. Scrunching his brows a little as he considered me, one corner of his lips quirked.

"Rhys is right, you do look a little like shit."

I glowered at him, and Cassian broke into a wide grin, the scar on the side of his face shifting as he squished my cheeks between his palms until I crunched my brows. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss onto my forehead, followed by another, and another, until I couldn't hold back the giggle that built in my throat.

Squeezing my face, Cassian sent me a grin, then he wrapped me up in his arms again, swaying us in a circle until something was rising warmly in my chest.

When he finally let me go, it was with a wink and a gentle flick to my forehead. Flipping him off, I turned, patting Rhys' arm in passing and earning myself another light wink, then I climbed onto the couch at the dining table, plopping down and curling up in the corner with a sigh. Snuggling into my sweatshirt, I watched Rhys and Cassian pick up their bickering, Rhys defending the big pot with his spatula like a sword, and I felt my lips slowly curve upwards.

The cushions dipped, and Azriel plopped down on the other end of the couch, stretching out his long legs as he draped an arm over the backrest. Something began to flutter against my ribs at the way his eyes twinkled in the warm kitchen light, and there was a soft gentle pull in my chest when the corners of his lips curved in amusement.

Breathing out, I turned my eyes back ahead, feeling a gentle thrum in my chest.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate123 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds

[tadpolesonalgae]

Rhysand x reader: Star-crossed lovers - Drabble

A/N: I’m an asleep-by-eight-wake-up-at-six kinda person, but am currently writing this at 2:26am because my dog needed to go outside (this is the second time)

Summary: modern reader gets woken up by her dog who has a poorly stomach. Trying to avoid waking her boyfriend of four years, she sneaks out the back door onto the terrace, clad in one of Rhys’ shirts and some slippers. She notes the time on her phone, takes some dog treats to call him if he takes too long, and heads out into their back garden.

“Did I wake you?” You whisper, soaking in his warmth as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back gently against his front. “Not at all,” he replies, pressing a sleepy kiss to your night-mussed hair. He pauses for a moment, then, “maybe a little.”

You laugh softly—how he can be in such a pleasant mood when you’ve just woken him up in the liminal hours of night you can’t understand. You turn in his arms, hand sliding over the hot nape of his neck as you push onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek.

Ithan had probably eaten something a little off in one of the fields today, hence the needing-the-bathroom situation in the middle of the night. Still, better he goes outside than on your bedroom floor—which you’ve managed to avoid happening so far. Touch wood.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that for?” He murmurs, squeezing you slightly, allowing you to greedily take in his heat. “I love you,” you murmur back, fingers threading through his soft, thick locks of hair, going against their grain. Rhys makes a rough but affectionate sound in the back of his throat, resting his forehead against your own. “I love you, too,” he whispers onto your mouth.

You smile onto his lips, both your arms sliding over his powerful shoulders. Without really thinking, you press your lips against his—softened and heated with sleep. Another one of those pleasing sounds drags from his throat, and he kisses back lightly. Then deeper.

When you pull away, he dips forward, nipping at your lower lip gently. “What was that for?” You laugh quietly, keeping within his heat. “I love you,” he whispers back, smiling cheekily, the buttery light spilling from the open door warming his handsome features. “You might have a slight case of morning breath, though,” he teases. You gasp at him, then huff out a puff of air in his direction.

He makes a faked choking sound and you both descend in to quiet laughter. “How charming you are,” he mutters over your mouth, smiling onto your lips. “So long suffering,” you shoot back, but try to at least turn your head a little, in case he was serious about your breath smelling bad. He grunts softly in agreement, before grasping your jaw lightly and pressing another kiss onto you.

This one’s deeper: slower, but more intense. Your arms tighten around him, fingers wandering through his hair as his hand grazes the pathway of your spine. You arch into him.

A slight breeze blows, and you shiver, tucking yourself further into his warmth. “The sky is beautiful tonight,” Rhys says quietly. You pull away a little, peering up into the darkened heavens.

Beautiful isn’t the right word. Not for something so integral in nature—it doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s simply what it is. Then again, if you had to assign a word to the clear night sky, how the sparkling pin-pricks of light gather in spots to map out constellations, how there isn’t a cloud to be seen and instead it’s just endlessly stretching whorls of starlight blending into distant galaxies—beautiful would have to do.

“It’s…” you fumble for words, but thought trails off as you take in the starry night. Rhys nods, understanding as he gazes with you, “it is.” Such a rare sight. One that you’ll treasure in the silvery pools of your memory.

“Maybe we should go camping,” you whisper, half joking. “Then we could wake up in the night, and have some snacks under the stars.”

“We could do other things under the stars, too.”

You smack him lightly on the shoulder.

The bastard laughs.

“Okay, I promise not to taint your chaste ideas with my filthy thoughts,” he chuckles, both arms wrapping around your waist. You hum softly in response, hoping to sound displeased. He can definitely feel you smiling into his chest, though.

You both fall silent again, and your eyes droop, weighed with fatigue. In the back of your mind, you consider telling him to go back to bed—Ithan will probably take a while. He likes sniffing things. But the thought falls away as he pulls you a little tighter, and starts swaying.

It’s not obvious, nor pronounced, but a calming left-to-right. Lulling you deeper into that dreary state, beckoning you with soft, warm hands. A quiet sigh slips from your lips, and you nose at the shirt he’s wearing—smelling so delicious.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a wet snout brushes the dip of your knee, startling in his arms. Rhys lets out an obnoxious laugh that spills into a genuine one when you shoot him a scathing glare. “That’s what you get for almost nodding off on me,” he chuckles, bumping his nose against your own. “Prick,” you mutter, but press a kiss to his chest.

“Alright,” you sigh, stepping out of his warmth, “inside, hound.” Rhysand moves to guide you into the house, but you turn to your dog, “you too, Ithan. Inside.” From beside you, Rhys lets out a snort, shoving you lightly as you pass the threshold of your home, closing and locking the door once you’re both in, eager to return to the warm comforts of your bed.

All three of you settle quietly, and you bask in the soft warmth of your bedsheets, the coolness of your pillow, and the male body that lies beside you as he tucks you into his chest. Presses a kiss to your forehead. And flicks off the light.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22

[illyrian-dreamer]

Gnawing at the bars of my cage rn 😶😶😶😶

I am a firm believer that Rhys is a S L U T for lazy morning sex

Anyways just had to spread the gospel 🫡

I got more little headcanons of Rhys, if you ever need any 😌

You are SO RIGHT. When his hair is all mussed and his voice is all deep and raspy, and he takes his time fucking you sloooow and deep 😩he definitely lays you on your front and kisses down your spine, and he slides slowly into you and tells you to tip your head back and look up at him so you can see the pleasure on his face as he begins to fuck you. And it’s so unhurried and sensual, with lots of touching and changing of positions, and he makes you come multiple times. And he eventually thrusts deep and spills inside you with the most delicious, rasping groan, and he doesn’t pull out of you for a while after because he’s just savouring the feeling of being inside of you. But when he does pull out of you and sees the mess he made of you, he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and cleaning up every last drop like the good boy he is 🥵

Sorry, I got carried away 💅🏻please always feel free to send more Rhys headcanons, I would genuinely eat my own fist if that man told me to 🫶🏻

[surielstea]

Solstice Special

(SFW version)

Pairing: ACoTaR x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: A compilation of drabbles with a theme of Winter Solstice, just an excuse to write fluff really.

Warnings: All fluff! One allusion to smut (rhys), but that’s it!

3.7k words.

Rhys - Mistletoe

I leaned against the archway of the foyer, sighing as I reached down to unbuckle the straps of my heels. The day's weight still clung to me, but the familiar warmth of home promised relief. One shoe off, then the other, I barely registered the soft sound of hurried footsteps until they were practically upon me.

Rhysand rounded the corner from his office, his usual grace momentarily abandoned as he skidded slightly on the polished hardwood floor. My brows furrowed at his urgency. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, my voice laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

He didn't answer, not with words, anyway. Instead, his hands cupped my face, firm yet tender, tilting my head up to meet his descending lips. His kiss was sudden, warm, and commanding, leaving me breathless before I had a chance to even think.

Still, I kissed him back, my confusion melting into a hum of contentment. When he pulled away, his violet eyes sparkled with mischief, and his lips curled into that devilish smile that always unraveled me.

"Welcome home," he murmured, his voice rich and teasing.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "What was that for?" I managed to whisper, still feeling the lingering heat of his mouth on mine.

His grin widened as he silently pointed above us. My gaze followed the gesture, landing on a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the archway. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, shaking my head. "Did you hang that up?"

"I did," he replied, looking awfully pleased with himself. His pride was almost endearing, considering I had done all the rest of the decorating. The garlands on the banister, the wreath on the door, the lights twinkling softly in the windows—all my handiwork. And yet, he stood there, so smug about his singular contribution.

I grinned, shaking my head as I leaned up on my toes to press another quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's my favorite of all the decor," I murmured against his mouth.

He hummed his agreement, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "I know," he said, his tone entirely too self-satisfied. "I'll expect full credit for it."

From that day on, the mistletoe became a tradition—one he refused to let go of. Every day when I walked through the door, he'd be there waiting. His excuse was always the same, a playful glance upward and a husky, "You know the rules."

Usually, the kisses were soft, sweet. A lingering press of his lips against mine followed by a quiet, "I'm glad you're home." Sometimes he'd brush his thumb along my jaw or press his forehead to mine, his eyes saying what words never could.

But on other days—those long, grueling ones when exhaustion was carved into every line of my body—his kisses were different. They were hungrier, more insistent. He'd pin me against the wall, his hands roving over my waist, my back, his touch dissolving every ounce of tension. His mouth would trail to my neck, his voice a low murmur, "Let me take care of you." And he always did, in ways that left me breathless and melting into him.

There were moments when I wondered if the mistletoe had been an innocent gesture at all, or if he'd hung it up knowing it would become something more—a way to anchor us, to carve out a pocket of intimacy amid the chaos of the world outside. If so, I couldn't complain. It was the best idea he'd ever had.

The archway and its ever-present dangling plant became our quiet haven, an unspoken ritual that drew me closer to him every day. And it was the last night of the Solstice Season, meaning all the decorations would go down tomorrow. So when I came home I expected rose petals leading up the doorstep and candles to illuminate our last kiss beneath the dangling plant.

But when I walked inside, I found him waiting for me, not beneath the mistletoe, but by the window, a glass of wine in his hand. The soft glow of the moonlight framed him like some sort of painting, his silhouette a study in elegance and ease. He didn't notice me at first, his attention fixed on the snow drifting lazily outside.

I paused in the doorway, letting the sight of him settle in my chest. He was dressed in more casual clothes—a loose, charcoal-gray sweater and black slacks—and for a moment, I could almost forget he was the High Lord of Night, the most powerful male in Prythian. Right now, he was simply mine.

"Are you going to stand there staring all night?" Rhysand asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. He didn't turn, but I could hear the amusement in his tone.

I rolled my eyes, stepping into the room. "You looked peaceful. I didn't want to ruin the moment."

He glanced at me over his shoulder, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You could never ruin anything." Setting his glass down, he turned fully, holding out a hand. "Come here."

I hesitated for only a moment before crossing the room and slipping my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and sure, and he guided me toward the window. "Look," he murmured, nodding toward the snow.

I followed his gaze. The world outside was blanketed in white, the kind of snowfall that muffled all sound and made the world feel smaller, quieter. It was beautiful, but I couldn't focus on it for long. Not with the way he was looking at me.

"You're not even looking at the snow," I accused softly, glancing up at him.

His lips twitched. "Why would I, when you're here?"

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "You're shameless."

"Always," he agreed, pulling me closer. His hands settled on my hips, and I found myself instinctively wrapping mine around the back of his neck, head resting on his chest as I stared out the window. We stood there, swaying slightly to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

After a moment, I tilted my head up to look at him. "You going to kiss me anytime soon?"

"Desperate, are you?" he countered, one brow arching.

I gave him a pointed look. "You're the one who started all this."

He sighed, a dramatic sound, but the way his hands tightened on me gave him away, he couldn't deny me.

He leaned forward, smiling as our lips nearly met but didn't quite touch. I huffed, rising onto my toes and closing that gap to kiss him. It was slow and deep, a silent confession of everything I couldn't say. He responded immediately, his arms tightening around me, grounding me.

His hands ran up my hips, large hands gripping my waist, the warmth of his touch seeping past my clothes as he pulled me closer and deepened our kiss, attempting to pour all his love into this one moment.

By the time we pulled apart, I felt lighter, the weight of my long day dissolving under his touch. "Thank you," I whispered, my fingers brushing over his jaw.

He smiled, that familiar, self-assured curve of his lips. "For the kiss? Or for being perfect?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "For this. For you."

His smile softened, his gaze turning molten. "Always, my love." He pecked my lips once more, slowly pulling away with his forehead against mine. "Always."

Az - Cookies

We had made a mess. Flour clung to the entire front of Azriel's black shirt, standing out starkly against the dark fabric, while dye from the frosting stained my hands in streaks of bright colors. The countertops were a warzone of cookie cutters, unused dough scraps, and piping bags in every color.

But neither of us seemed to care. Azriel focused on his latest creation with the precision of a Spymaster turned confectionery artist, the perfectly golden-brown sugar cookies serving as his canvas. I was still shocked he hadn't devoured the one he was decorating, considering he'd been snatching cookies fresh out of the oven all afternoon.

We weren't officially competing, but if we were, I'd be losing. Horribly. His cookies looked like something straight out of a Winter Solstice display—ornate wreaths, perfect bows, and snowflakes so detailed they might have been drawn by hand. Meanwhile, my snowman looked like he'd been through a blizzard and lost the fight. His crooked smile mocked me from the plate.

With a defeated sigh, I cleared a small space and hoisted myself onto the counter, leaning back on my hands to watch my mate work. I didn't understand how he was so good at manipulating the frosting—it seemed to defy my every attempt.

"Are you pouting?" Azriel asked without looking up, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Something like that," I replied, unable to keep the pout from my tone.

"This was your idea, might I remind you," he said, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving him off. "I remember."

Azriel placed the piping bag down with deliberate care, adding yet another masterpiece to the growing plate of decorated cookies. Finally, he looked up, those hazel eyes warm and alight with quiet humor as they locked onto mine.

Without a word, he stepped forward, settling himself between my legs. His hands, still dusted with flour, rested on either side of my thighs as he leaned in. The kiss was soft, sweet—lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. When he pulled back, his lips curved into a slight smile, dimples appearing as though summoned just for me.

"You taste like frosting," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

A soft giggle escaped me before I could stop it. "You're not entirely innocent either." I poke his chest.

He tilted his head, pretending to think, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes gave him away. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he said at last, his lips twitching into a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the warmth blooming in my chest.

Cass - Snowmen

"Using your powers is cheating," Cassian declared, gesturing toward my much more impressive snowman. His own creation, barely the size of a pre-schooler, leaned precariously to one side, a lopsided grin smeared across its face.

I scoffed, smoothing the snow on mine as I used my magic—honed in the Winter Court—to form the snowman's perfectly symmetrical, smiling expression. "Don't pout," I said, throwing him a smug grin. "It won't make your sad little snowman any better."

His gasp was loud and exaggerated, and he stomped through the knee-deep snow toward me, hands on his hips like a scolding parent. But the rant he was about to give cut off as his gaze flicked upward. He tilted his head back, dark hair dusted with white as fresh snow began to fall.

The soft flakes drifted between us, one landing perfectly on the tip of my nose. Cassian grinned, leaning in to brush it away with his lips before stealing a kiss, his mouth warm against mine. The cold melted away as I wrapped my arms beneath his jacket, hugging his solid torso against me. His hands pressed against my back, pulling me even closer.

But he leaned too far into the embrace, and the next thing I knew, we were tumbling backward into the snow.

I squealed as I landed with a soft thump, the freezing cold biting into me as I flailed. Cassian laughed, his deep chuckle loud and unapologetic as he flopped onto his back beside me.

"You're such a brute," I muttered, trying to brush the snow off my hair.

"And you're such a sore loser." He grinned, turning his head to look at me, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Thought you liked the cold?"

"I do." I glared, my cheeks flaming as the cold snow beneath me only seemed to grow colder.

"Then stop whining and enjoy it." Before I could argue, he swept his arms wide, his legs kicking out to carve a snow angel. The sight was so ridiculous—Cassian, a massive Illyrian warrior, lying in the snow and making an angel—I couldn't help but laugh.

"You don't need to use your arms, you already have arms," I said, flopping back beside him. "So ridiculous."

But I joined him, moving my arms and legs until a pair of angels stretched between us. He turned his head toward me, his grin softening into something warmer, gentler.

"I like this," he murmured. "Just you and me, acting like kids in the snow."

My heart clenched, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me tighter than his arms ever could. I reached for his hand, our fingers lacing together in the snow.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," I teased, "or I'd bury you in it."

He laughed again, the sound full of unrestrained joy as he tugged me closer. His wings wrapped around us like a shield, keeping the cold at bay as the snow continued to fall. We lay there for a while, watching the snowflakes swirl down from the dimming sky.

Eventually, he whispered, "I'll help warm you up when we go inside—if you admit my snow angel is better than yours."

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Not a chance, general."

Lucien - Ice Skating

"Wait!" I called out to my mate, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself. My knees wobbled dangerously beneath me, the ice beneath the blades of my skates feeling far less forgiving than solid ground.

Lucien turned, easily as if he wasn't on blades. His golden eye shimmered with amusement, the hint of a small smile tugging at his lips. He looked as though he'd been born on skates, while I felt like a newborn fawn—clumsy, awkward, and certain I was seconds away from disaster.

I took a tentative step forward, my arms stretched out as if I could somehow will balance into my uncooperative limbs. The moment my foot moved, I lurched forward, letting out a squeak of panic.

Lucien was there in an instant. I grabbed his jacket instinctively, clinging to him as though he were the only thing standing between me and certain doom.

"Here," he said, his voice warm and steady, "hold my hands." He extended his palms toward me, his confidence so disarming that it made my own nerves feel a bit foolish. Slowly, ever so slowly, I released my death grip on his jacket and slid my trembling hands into his.

"There," he said softly, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles over the backs of my hands. "Be confident, or you'll fall."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered under my breath, glancing down at the ice with a mix of terror and defiance. "My legs are so stiff from the cold I feel like they'll snap in half."

Lucien chuckled, the sound low and rich, like molten honey. "Always so dramatic," he teased, threading his fingers through mine as he took a small step backward, gently pulling me forward.

"Just match my movements," he instructed. His voice was calm, soothing, and so maddeningly self-assured that I almost forgot my fear. Almost.

My brows furrowed in concentration as I tried to follow his lead. My legs refused to cooperate, my body too tense to glide smoothly the way he did. Instead, I felt like a lump of wood teetering on the edge of disaster, certain that at any moment I'd go face-first into the ice.

Sensing my hesitation, Lucien squeezed my hands, and warmth bloomed from where his skin met mine, chasing away the biting chill that had settled in my fingers. The warmth crept up my arms and into my chest, soothing me in a way that only he could.

"See? You're already doing better," he encouraged, his voice laced with pride.

I frowned up at him, catching the faint curve of his lips. "Stop laughing at me," I huffed.

"I'm not laughing," he protested, though his golden eye sparkled with amusement.

"You're smiling," I pointed out accusingly.

"Am I not allowed to smile at my mate?" he countered, his smirk widening.

"No," I shot back, though my voice lacked conviction. "Not when I'm one slip away from breaking every bone in my body."

He laughed then, the sound so genuine and warm that I felt my annoyance melt away. "You're not going to fall," he promised.

"And if I do?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Then I'll catch you," he said simply, his voice steady and certain.

Something in the way he said it—like it wasn't just about ice skating, but about everything—made me falter. I swallowed hard, the moment of vulnerability making me cling to him just a little tighter.

"Now," he said, his tone light and teasing again, "let's try this without you looking like you're walking on hot coals."

I glared at him, but I couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up. His confidence was contagious, and as I let him guide me step by step across the ice, I felt my body begin to relax.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges, but with Lucien's steady hands in mine and his unwavering gaze fixed on me, I started to believe that maybe I wouldn't fall. And even if I did, I knew he'd be there to catch me.

Eris - Cocoa

I buzzed with excitement as I topped my steaming mug of cocoa with an indulgent swirl of whipped cream, crowning it with tiny marshmallows that spilled over the rim. The warmth of the drink seeped into my hands as I cradled the mug, savoring the simple joy of the moment.

"Love?" Eris's voice, low and laced with sleep, called from the hallway. I glanced up just as he peeked his head around the corner, his copper hair deliciously ruffled, his sharp amber eyes softened by drowsiness.

"Morning, Eris," I said softly, a smile tugging at my lips. He blinked at me, his expression still crinkled with sleep, and shook his head wordlessly before padding into the room.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he closed the distance between us. Gently, his hands slid over mine, tugging me away from the counter and into the hallway with the sleepy drag of his feet.

"Eris," I began, my voice full of curiosity, "what are you—?"

He didn't answer, his silence as warm and grounding as his touch. His hands in mine felt like slipping into a sun-drenched blanket on a crisp autumn morning. He led me to our bedroom, nudging the door open with a lazy kick. Releasing my hands, he turned to face me, his sharp features soft in the early light.

In one swift motion, his hands found my waist, and he pulled me down onto the bed with him. "Eris," I sighed as he reached for the blankets, cocooning us in their warmth.

"It's too early," he murmured, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he nestled into the crook of my neck.

"My cocoa's going to get cold," I protested half-heartedly, but the argument died on my tongue the moment he tightened his arm around me.

"Just a few minutes," he countered, his words brushing my skin like embers. His fingers began tracing slow, soothing circles along my back, their heat melting away the last of my resistance. He pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck, and I couldn't stop the warmth that bloomed in my chest, spreading like wildfire.

"Fine," I whispered, my resolve crumbling under his touch. "Just a few more minutes."

His only response was a soft hum of approval as I ran my fingers through his unruly hair, combing it away from his face. His quiet breaths and the rhythmic heat of his touch lulled me deeper into the comfort of the moment. Before I knew it, I'd drifted off, enveloped by his warmth.

I woke to the sensation of gentle kisses—one pressed to my forehead, another to my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. I blinked my eyes open, greeted by Eris's amber gaze, glowing with unspoken affection.

"Morning," I rasped, my voice heavy with sleep. "Again."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he leaned in, brushing a kiss against mine. His fingers cradled my jaw, the gesture tender enough to steal my breath.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek. "Think your cocoa's cold now?"

My eyes widened as the memory hit me. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the kitchen as Eris's amused laugh echoed behind me. I skidded to a stop at the counter, frowning down at the abandoned mug. Tentatively, I dipped a finger into the drink. Ice cold.

"It's ruined," I said, pouting as I turned to Eris, who had followed me with his usual unhurried grace. "It was the last of the cocoa powder."

He leaned against the counter, his hair still a mess from sleep, and shook his head with a smirk. "You forget who I am."

Taking the mug from my hands, he held it between his palms. Within seconds, steam curled into the air, and the rich scent of cocoa filled the kitchen once more.

I smiled, biting my lip as I looked up at him. "Show-off."

"There," he said with a grin, handing the mug back to me.

Rising onto my toes, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the warmth of his skin. "Thanks, 'Ris," I murmured, cradling the mug close as I took a tentative sip. The heat spread through me, as rich and comforting as the male watching me with sleepy affection.

"You're welcome, love," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His amber gaze held mine, filled with warmth, and I couldn't help but think there was no better way to start the day.

NSFW version here -> Link

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