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[xlovellydreams]

Reuniting 2

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Summary: Reuniting with Rhysand after Under the Mountain

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Words Count: 6.1k

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ PART 1

Note: Hi guys! Let me say – Thank you so so so so much! I did not expect so much love under my first post, so again, thank you so much!!! Here is part two!

𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃

He sat in the bath for what felt like hours. The water was hot. Scorching hot. But it felt good.

His skin was still tingling from the feeling of your touch and his body ached at the loss of your presence after holding you for so long. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily.

Gods, he was losing his mind. Fifty years had clearly not been kind to him.

Fifty years of being Amarantha’s plaything. Fifty years of being forced into submission. Fifty years of watching her, listening to her, touching her.

Fifty years without you. Not having you, not holding you, not being able to listen to you sing or hear your laugh.

Fifty years of her touch, fifty years of her voice. Of being forced to satisfy her. Of being her whore.

Fifty years without you, his mate.

Rhysand didn’t open his eyes again, just exhaled slowly, attempting to calm himself. To push the thoughts of that woman from his mind.

He was home. He was free. She wasn’t here.

You were.

He scrubbed every inch of his skin. Trying to get all the traces of her away from him. He wanted her scent gone, wanted to smell like himself, like you. Reaching for the sweet-smelling body wash you always liked so much, he rubbed it against his skin.

For fifty years, all he’d think about every waking moment was you. Your face, your laughter, your smile, your soft touch, your scent. He had clung on to the memory of you, just to keep himself sane. Just to keep himself alive.

Gods, he was tired. So, so tired.

He pushed that thought away for now. He couldn’t give in to his exhaustion yet. Not when his family was waiting for him, downstairs. And most importantly, not when he owed you a kiss.

A kiss. So much more than just a kiss. He needed to kiss every inch of you, worship your whole body, hold you, touch you. He needed to feel you in his mind again, to be connected with you in every possible way.

Rhysand stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel, using it to furiously dry his skin. He looked better, that was for sure, but he still looked worn and tired. Grabbing a pair of dark pants and a shirt, quickly threw them on. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to get the unruly locks to stay down. Once his hair was somewhat in order he took another look in the mirror. Deep down he still felt dirty and definitely not convinced that he looked anywhere near presentable. His skin was paler than usual, looking almost sickly in comparison to before he went to Amarantha. He looked like he could benefit from another fifty years in bed.

Rhys felt almost hesitant as he left the bathroom and stepped back into his bedroom. A small part of him was scared that this whole day had just been a dream. That he’d get back into the bedroom and find it empty, or worse, find that witch there. Deep down he was so damn afraid that it is just a nightmare. Another horrible nightmare.

But then he smelt you.

His shoulders immediately relaxed a bit when the scent of you hit his nose. He immediately knew you were still here, waiting for him.

A second later he heard your laughter from downstairs. Rhys smiled at the sound of your laugh, that beautiful, sweet, sweet sound. The idea of seeing you with his family, his Inner Circle made his heart fill with warmth. It just felt right.

𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃 𓂃

The Inner Circle was sitting around the table, as you brought another warm dish, wine already poured in every glass. “Just, don’t overwhelm him too much,” you said, mostly to Cassian, knowing he would be the first to throw punches.

Cassian let out a scoff as he heard you say that. He was already bouncing his leg impatiently, fidgeting eagerly in his seat.

Azriel sat silently, seemingly calm but with a hint of worry in his eyes. He, like Cassian, also seemed eager to see his High Lord, to see his brother after fifty years.

Meanwhile, Amren was quietly sipping on a glass of whatever was in it, seemingly unimpressed. Mor on the other hand was already reaching for another bottle of wine, clearly nervous.

Cassian let out a scoff at your words. “Who, me?” he asked, as if insulted by the fact that you would suggest he would ever do that.

“Don’t pretend as if you wouldn’t be the first one to go and tackle him” Azriel let out a small snort.

“I just want to give him the greeting he deserves!” protested Cassian, his arms out in the air.

Azriel let out another small scoff, clearly not very convinced. “That doesn’t mean you have to literally tackle him to the ground as soon as you see him, Cass.”

“You two behave” you glared at both Cassian and Azriel. “I am being serious here, give him space, as much as he needs.”

That was the main reason you told him to relax in the bath. The main reason you did not kiss him more. He still had his shields up, not letting you in. You had no idea what he had been through and all you wanted, was to respect his boundaries. Give him the space to breathe, and move around freely.

You wanted him to remember, that it was all over.

That he was home.

Both Cassian and Azriel fell silent at your glare. It was clear that you’d have no problem telling them off if they made any unwanted, unnecessary, or overdone gestures toward Rhysand. And the last thing either of them wanted was to upset you.

They both looked down silently, mumbling out a quick “yes ma’am” as if they were scolded children. Nothing new.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs drew everyone’s attention, and the air in the room suddenly became thick and tense with anticipation.

Rhysand finally appeared at the door, his eyes darting around the room. He took a deep breath as he took in the sight before him. The table, filled with his favourite foods, his family sitting around it all looking absolutely stunned to see him there in the doorway, alive and well.

No one spoke, everyone was silent, all eyes on him. It was as if they were all too scared to say something, as if they didn’t quite believe that he was truly standing there.

Like one wrong move, and everything would be gone.

Rhysand’s eyes landed on you, standing in the corner. Alive, safe, and unharmed, he thought.

And then, by some weird instinct, you reached, taking the hot soup out of the way, the same moment Cassian stood up, shaking the whole table, already charging at Rhys.

You rolled your eyes, groaning at that.

The movement of Cassian standing up immediately caught Rhysand’s attention. He knew his brother well, and by now, he knew what was coming. Cassian was out of his seat, and charging at him within seconds. And all Rhysand could do was brace himself for impact.

The impact came soon, and Rhys suddenly found his arms full with his massive, buff-ass brother. Cassian slammed into him so heavily, tackling him to the ground. His breath was knocked from his lungs and he let out a groan as his back hit the hard, wooden floor. The other Illyrian was on top of him, pinning him into place. Cassian’s chest heaved with emotion. A strange mixture of anger, worry, and relief.

“Get off!” Rhys forced out, pushing at his brother. But Cass was stronger than him and was sitting firmly on his chest.

“I’m just trying to give you a damn welcome,” he said with a huge grin on his face. “Fifty. Fifty years,” he breathed out, gripping Rhysand’s shirt tighter. “Fifty years you were gone.”

Rhysand felt his anger turn into guilt as he looked at his brother. He had known it would be hard on them when he was gone, when he was under her control, but seeing the pain in his eyes, knowing he was part of the reason for it made his heart ache.

He wanted to push Cassian off, to tell him to get a grip of himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Especially not when his brother spoke again.

“Fifty years of thinking we’d never see you again.”

Rhysand felt his heart ache more at Cassian’s words, his head was already spinning.

Fifty years. Fifty years he’d been forced to abandon his family. For fifty years he’d had to act as Amarantha’s whore. Fifty years of pretending to be anything other than free. Fifty years he had spent being tortured, and now he was here, finally here.

Finally home. Finally with his family again.

“Get off of me,” Rhysand grumbled. “You’re crushing me.” He looked up into Cassian’s hazel eyes, the pain behind them clear.

“Hell no,” retorted Cassian, not budging one bit. He was not moving away, not until he’d got that message through to Rhysand.

His breathing was coming out in short pants as he spoke. “How the hell do you think I feel? Fifty. Years. Fifty years I’ve had to deal with Az’s moodiness and Mor’s constant bitching, not to mention Amren. I nearly went insane, you prick.”

Rhys did not miss the tears that started building in his brother’s eyes.

“Cassian” you finally decided to chime in, your voice surprisingly soft. “Get up, food is still warm.”

Your soft but firm voice seemed to get through to him, and he slowly loosened his grip on Rhysand’s shirt. He stood up, not taking his eyes away from his brother, as if he was scared of him suddenly disappearing.

A second later, Rhysand was again a little overwhelmed as his family all stood up, wanting to hold him and hug him. But he allowed them to do so, knowing that they had needed this.

He needed this.

He felt Azriel’s hand on his shoulder, gripping him tightly, as if making sure he was truly here. Azriel let out a shaky breath at the sight of Rhys. “Thank the Mother you’re back,” he said quietly, he pulled him into a hug, his embrace strong.

The second to reach him was Amren, who punched him on the shoulder, clearly trying to keep her facade of calmness together. But he could see the relief in her eyes.

Mor was the last one, hugging him so tightly he was certain she’d suffocate him. She was whispering something in his ear, and he could faintly hear the words, “I’m so sorry”. “Stop apologizing” he mumbled in her ear.

Rhysand felt overwhelmed with emotions. Seeing his family standing around him, holding him, squeezing him so tightly it was as if they were scared he’d disappear.

His eyes landed on you. Seeing you stare at everyone, at him, with a soft expression in your eyes, made his heart pang painfully, and all he wanted to do was to have you in his arms.

But he could wait, he reminded himself. He had waited fifty years, he could wait a few more hours.

Once everyone had finally released him, you gently pulled him to the table, and you all sat down.

Rhysand still couldn’t quite believe this. He was surrounded by his family, sitting down at a table filled with his favourite foods, and he had you with him.

It was so utterly surreal that he almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

You reached your hand for his under the table, and he immediately closed his fingers around yours. A simple touch. Rhysand’s body immediately relaxed. He let out a small breath, closing his eyes as he felt the familiar rush of comfort and calm he always felt whenever you touched him.

He gently stroked your skin with his thumb as he opened his eyes, turning to look at you.

“Good?” You whispered, only for him to hear, making sure he was alright.

Rhys felt a small thump in his chest. Gods, he was so in love with you. So in love with your soft, sweet voice whispering to him. So in love with the gentle concern in your tone. Still afraid of waking up suddenly, waking up with that red-haired monster.

Home. He was home. With his family. With you.

He let out another breath, feeling the last of his tension and stress drain out of him at your question. So he squeezed your hand slightly in response, a smile on his face. “Good,” he whispered back, his eyes never leaving your face.

You smiled more, nodding your head as you reached for a glass of wine. He leaned back in his chair, his hand still in yours, as he watched the banter go back and forth between everyone. Watching as they all ate some of his favourite foods. The rich, warm stew you had made, along with a variety of other dishes.

Rhys couldn’t believe he had been the luckiest bastard in Prythian. Getting to come back home and seeing you, his mate, still here, waiting for him. And he’d be damned if he didn’t make good on his promises.

HOURS LATER.

You laughed so loudly, so hard that a few tears rolled down your cheeks. Just because of one of Cassian’s stupid jokes. But you were laughing for the first time in forever. Rhysand couldn’t help but crack a small smile. It was so good to see you laughing again.

His body felt warm, full from all the food, and light after the many glasses of wine he had drank. But more than anything, he felt utterly at peace for the first time in fifty years. There were no responsibilities weighing him down, no Amarantha forcing him to perform. He was simply relaxing, at home with his family, like he should’ve been fifty years ago. There was still a small part of him that couldn’t believe it. A small part of him was scared this was all a dream, or just a hallucination, or something else, and that he’d be yanked back to the reality of Under The Mountain. But the feel of your soft hand on his shoulder, the sound of Amren’s amused scoff at one of Cassian’s jokes, it all felt so real, in a way that could only mean that this was, in fact, very much real.

A small yawn escaped his lips, and he quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t that the late hour was affecting him too much - he had been forced to stay up much, much later than this on multiple occasions - but rather that all the food and wine, the relaxed atmosphere, made him feel sleepy. He tried not to let it show, not wanting to break the relaxed mood, not wanting to go to bed.

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining,” came Cassian’s voice from the other side of the table, a pout clear on his face.

Rhysand snorted. “And I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still as bad as ever.”

You giggled softly, shaking your head, “Perhaps we should go and rest,” you said, of course noticing the tired look in his eyes. He felt a pang of affection in his chest as he heard your suggestion.

Of course, you would notice that he was tired, would worry even if he didn’t say anything. You were always so aware of his every need and emotion. And the last thing he wanted was to worry you.

He gave a small nod, a slight yawn escaping his lips.

“Perhaps that’s a good idea,” he said, giving you a small, tired smile.

The words had barely left his mouth before Cassian let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly not happy to hear the fun was over. “Gods, just go make out already,” he said, a suggestive smirk on his face. “We all know that’s all you two want to do tonight anyway.”

You blushed softly at his words, “Cassian!”

Rhysand let out another low chuckle as he saw you blush at Cassian’s words.  You were so cute, he thought. He missed seeing you blush.

Cassian let out a small huff at your reaction, his smirk growing bigger. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me I’m wrong,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms behind his head, his wings relaxed behind him.

You groaned, looking up to Rhys. He noticed your gaze on him and immediately realised what you were thinking. He saw the blush on your face, and the pleading look in your eyes.

He then let out a huff and looked towards Cassian. “And on that wonderful note,” he said, “everyone out. Go find somewhere else to be for the night.”

He didn’t wait to see if they obeyed. Rhys gently took your hand and winnowed you both back to your bedroom. To the room, you couldn't bring yourself to be in for the last fifty years.

This was the same bedroom he hadn’t seen for fifty years. The same bed where you had both slept peacefully together for so many years. The same room where he had shared so many quiet, intimate moments with you.

His eyes scanned the room as he looked at everything, taking in how much it had stayed exactly the same. It was almost surprising just how much it reminded him of better times. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scent of you, of the room. It was all so incredibly you, and it made him feel so at home that his eyes fluttered shut for a moment in contentment.

You squeezed his hand gently, “It was so cold in here without you.”

Rhysand instantly felt his body tense at your words. “Don’t...” he breathed out, his eyes still closed. He didn’t want to hear about how cold the room had been, how cold and lonely you had felt. The mere thought of it twisted his gut unpleasantly, making his heart clench.

He forced himself to open his eyes, turning to look at you. Your eyes had grown slightly glassy as you spoke, the memories obviously fresh in your mind as he saw it. Your shields of course down and you were trying to push the thought of you lying in this cold and empty room away. Of you lying in bed every night, not getting sleep, not getting rest. How you only were able to stay in here for three days until it was too much.

He clenched his jaw as he spoke again, his voice quiet. “I don’t want to talk about how cold you were without me,” he said, reaching to your cheek. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to imagine you in here, missing me, needing me…” He took a small step closer, his eyes dark with something. “Just don’t, okay?”

“I am still mad” you admitted suddenly, looking up into his eyes.

A frown immediately appeared on Rhysand’s face. “Mad?” he echoed, his eyes narrowing. “You’re mad?” His tone of voice was almost dangerous, defensive almost. He was not in the mood to deal with his mate being mad at him. Not after everything he had just endured down under that mountain.

“Yes,” you said immediately. “I am mad.”

A small scoff left Rhysand’s mouth at your words. He stared at you, his expression hardening. “You’re mad? You’re mad at me?” he repeated, his voice raising now. Why in the world were you mad at him? He had just spent fifty years trapped in hell, being Amarantha’s toy. What right did you have to be mad at him?

“Did I say I am mad at you?” You whispered, tilting your head slightly.

Some of the anger in Rhysand’s expression faded as he realised his mistake, the meaning of your words finally hitting him. His shoulders relaxed slightly and he let out another breath, running a hand through his hair.

No, no you hadn’t said you were mad at him. You had just said you were mad. He blinked at you, almost feeling silly as he realised how easily he had let himself get worked up and angry.

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath as his heart rate slowed down. He let out a long breath. “Perhaps explain why you’re angry then?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“I am mad at myself” your voice barely above whisper, as you reached for his hand.

Mad at yourself. Not at him.

He took a soft breath as you reached for his hand, and he gently laced your fingers with his, feeling the familiar comfort of your touch.

“I couldn’t help you,” you said, frowning a little. “I should have helped you somehow…”

Rhysand’s heart ached in his chest as he heard your words. So that’s what you were angry about. You were angry because you thought you hadn’t helped him. That you could’ve done more.

“You did help,” he said, his voice softer. He gently squeezed your hand in his, his eyes roaming all over your face.

Your frown deepened, as you looked up into his eyes, slightly confused. Not understanding what he meant by that. Rhys saw the confusion on your face, the furrow in your brow. He realized that you were not grasping what he was trying to tell you.

A smile appeared on his face, the one that made his eyes shine. “You did help me,” he repeated, saying the words slowly. “You helped me every single day that I was away. You gave me hope, a reason to live. Without you, I would’ve lost my mind down there.”

Lifting his hand, he gently cupped your jaw, smiling more. “By the Cauldron,” a sigh left his lips as he rested his forehead against yours “Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you? How many times the memory of you, of your face, your body, was what kept me going?”

“Fifty years,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Fifty years of living in hell, and the only thing that kept me going was you. It was your face, your smile, your laugh, your scent, your voice, all playing in my head over and over and over again. That was the only thing keeping me sane.”

Tears started to build in your eyes at his words. “Idiot…” you mumbled, sniffling a little.

A soft smile appeared on Rhysand’s lips as he heard the word. He knew you only ever called him an idiot jokingly. And he knew that if you were now calling him an idiot, it was a good sign.

“And yet you love me anyway,” he said softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, catching a fallen tear.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, hugging him, as you sniffled again “Don’t leave me, ever again.”

Rhysand’s arms wrapped around your body immediately, holding onto you tightly as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, letting it wash over him.

He let out a sigh. “I won’t,” he promised, holding onto you so tenderly, as if he was scared he might break you. “I’m never leaving you again. Ever.” His hands started to slowly caress your back, gently going up and down, just feeling the smooth skin under them. He took another few deep breaths, your scent, and your body against his almost making him feel dizzy.

Rhys gently guided you backward until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, causing you both to topple down onto the bed. He hovered above you, looking down at your face, looking into your eyes. His heart was pounding against his chest, his body almost aching with desire as he took in your face, looked at you laying out beneath him.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, gently reaching out a hand to brush some hair out of your face.

He lowered his head, slowly making his way down to your neck, peppering kisses along your skin.

“I was yelling at everyone” You mumbled, already unbuttoning his shirt. “That we had to do something. Save you.”

Rhysand’s heart thumped in his chest as he heard your words. Despite knowing that you had never given up hope, the thought of you fighting for him, of you trying to save him, was almost too much. He could so easily imagine you yelling, demanding that everyone do something, demanding that everyone save him. He could practically see you standing there, his fierce, tiny, determined mate.

Mate. His mate.

Chuckling a little at your words he shook his head “Of course you were.” His hands were working quickly to take off your own shirt, needing to feel your skin underneath his touch. “I expected nothing less.”

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled too.

Rhys smiled, his lips against your neck. He continued to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses up towards your jaw. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help the need he felt to mark you, to leave you something as proof of it being real, of him being back home.

“Of course,” his hands were all over you. “You’ve always been so fiercely protective of me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck again. “So very, very protective.”

“Because you deserve it” you whispered quickly. “You take care of everyone. You do everything to make everyone happy and safe.”

It was so true; those were the things that mattered to him. Making sure his people were happy, and safe. And most of all you. His heart clenched, shields still so high in his mind, hiding the memories from you. You still believed that he was worthy of being taken care of, that he deserved to be protected. And as you said the words, he felt his chest ache with overwhelming affection and love for you.

Rhysand felt a lump rise in his throat at your words. He couldn’t believe that you were here beneath him, saying these things to him. Praising him, loving him. It seemed too good to be true.

“Gods, you’ll make me cry if you keep saying things like that,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual.

You pulled him down by his neck, your lips not yet touching “But still, you are not being honest with me” you whispered, searching his eyes.

Rhysand let out a soft breath as you pulled him down, your bodies almost pressed together. Gods, he could practically taste you, he was so close to having you.

But then you stopped him from kissing you.

He raised his eyebrows at your words, now looking into your eyes, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over him.

“And what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice careful.

You sighed, guiding him, so you both were sitting on the bed, still close but you did keep a small distance. “You are keeping me away.”

Rhysand frowned, feeling a pang of hurt run through him at your words. Keeping you away? That’s certainly not what he was doing. He was aching, aching, to have you close, to be with you, to have you in every way possible. He shook his head quickly, trying to banish the hurt from his eyes. “I’m not keeping you away, sweetheart,” he said, trying to find the right words. “I just want to go slow, I want to be careful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, not like that,” your voice was quiet, vulnerable. Raising your hand, you placed it on his temple, “You are keeping me away from you”. Feeling how high his shields were, how strongly he kept you away from his mind, it hurt you.

It hurt, not being able to feel him that way.

He felt his heart stop in his chest as he heard your words, as he felt your hand on his temple. It hadn’t even occurred to him how much you must have missed feeling him down the bond, feeling the connection.

But… he wasn’t ready for you to feel all the pain and fear he had endured, all the trauma from Under the Mountain.

“I want to help you, to give you everything you need. But I can’t do that while you keep me away. Not letting me in” You brushed your thumb over his knuckles. “I want to know, what she did to you. How she hurt you.”

You wanted to comfort him, to comfort and help him. But he felt so broken, so ugly, so used. He was scared, he was scared that you’d never look at him the same if you found out how Amarantha had touched, used him, and made him do those dirty things.

He squeezed his eyes closed as he heard your voice. No, he didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to hear about what had happened, he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want you to know about how weak and broken it had made him, how pathetic he had felt.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You don’t want to be saddled with the horrors and trauma of it all.”

“Rhys I am your mate-“

“Exactly,” he interrupted, suddenly snapping. “You are my mate. I am supposed to protect you, to keep you safe. To take care of you, not the other way around. This isn’t-“ he stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he realised that he was being an idiot. He was just feeling so damn vulnerable right now, so damn raw.

You shook your head, pulling him closer, “I just don’t want you to have all my horrors sitting in the back of your mind,” he said, his voice quiet now. “I don’t want that for you.”

“Look at me” You murmured softly “I won’t look at you differently if that is what you’re afraid of” You caressed his cheek. “I love every part of you, no matter what.”

Rhysand felt the knot in his chest tighten as you caressed his cheek, as you spoke such sweet, tender words to him.

And his heart, his heart ached.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes roaming all over your face as he spoke. “You don’t understand, you don’t… I let her do it. For fifty damn years, I let her use, touch, and hurt me. And I just... laid there and endured it.”

“No, no, no, no, Rhys, my love no,” you shook your head again, searching his eyes, your heart breaking. “Everything you did was to save your family, to save your people, and I would never, look differently at you. You sacrificed so much, so much for other’s happiness” You rested your forehead against his.

Hearing the utter determination, the absolute conviction in your voice, made Rhysand want to cry. Feeling your forehead against his, your soft touch, the closeness.

Those goddamned words. The way you said them so honestly, with so much love, so much understanding.

“I let her use me… for fifty years I-“ He did not want to cry in front of you. “A whore, that is exactly what I am”

You gently took his hand, pulling him slowly, so carefully down, so you could both lie down. In your mind, there were already so many thoughts, as you slowly guessed what he meant, and your heart broke even more.

You felt sick that he had to endure all of that.

“Don’t. Don’t you ever dare call yourself that” you whispered.

Rhysand felt his chest tighten, his body shivering as he followed you. He desperately, desperately, wanted to bury himself in you and simply take comfort in your scent and your presence.

Yet, you did not make that kind of a move towards him. You just pulled him close, hugging him so gently. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, not being able to look into your eyes. He swallowed hard as the memories assaulted him again, making his stomach turn into a painful knot. “Fifty years,” he repeated hoarsely. “I let her use me, abuse me…”

“One day I felt so bad, that Cassian and Azriel literally dragged me out of my room” You spoke suddenly, stopping him, and changing the subject, just like that.

Caught by surprise by the sudden change of subject, Rhys blinked a few times, “What are you talking about?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed, not understanding.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, “I did not want to eat, or sleep, or move.” You murmured, playing gently with his hair. “They decided that it was time for me to… pull myself together. So they dumped me into the river.”

Feeling how hard it was for him to talk about what Amarantha did to him, you decided not to push him, to let go. Deciding that, it was not the time yet for him to open up about it, and as his mate, of course, you understood.

A small hint of a smile appeared on Rhysand’s face. The image of you being dragged out of bed by Cassian and Azriel and being thrown into a river was a very fitting one. He sighed softly as you tangled your fingers in his hair, enjoying the feeling of your touch.

“How long did they have to keep doing that?” he asked, now gently caressing your side.

“Two weeks straight” you laughed a little, feeling him relaxing in your arms.

Rhys started laughing too, the thought of you being dumped into a river every single day for two whole weeks was both amusing and amusing.

He was relaxing, but he still felt so on edge. On one hand, he was enjoying this moment with you, enjoying your touch, your laughter, feeling the bond flow through you both. But on the other hand, there was a part of him that was aching with the need to talk, to unload the past fifty years onto you. He did not want to keep hiding those memories from you.

“And then, next month came, the same story. It happened a lot” you murmured softly, nuzzling your face in his hair.

Even though he was enjoying this moment, enjoying your soft, gentle touch and your sweet voice, there was a part of him still feeling so raw, so disgusted with himself. He suddenly let out a soft sigh, his fingers gripping your hip a bit harder. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I am” You laughed with a bright smile.

And Rhys couldn’t help the laughter that broke out of him at your words, feeling a burst of warm affection. Gods, he had missed this. He had missed laughing, making sarcastic comments and jokes just like that.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. “Clever girl.”

“When you are ready. One day, I will be here to listen,” you started quietly, still playing gently with his hair, curling the soft strands around your fingers, “But for now, can we just, stay like this?”

Deeply you wanted to know what exactly happened Under the Mountain, what Amarantha did to him. How much he really sacrificed. How broken he really was, and how could you help.

But not yet. Not when you finally could hold him, rest with him, laugh with him. Not when he was so alive, so real, lying next to you, breathing, not a hallucination, not a dream.

As you spoke, Rhysand felt a sense of relief wash over him. The fact that you weren’t forcing him to talk about it now, that you weren’t pushing him to unload all his trauma and pain onto you.

Instead, all he had to think about right now was the fact that he was home, that he was in your arms.

He pressed a few gentle kisses on your shoulder, before he spoke, his voice gruff. “Only if I can hold you like this every day for the next fifty years.”

You giggled softly, “Fifty years is not enough.”

Rhys chuckled softly, feeling a rush of affection towards you once again. Gods, he would never get tired of the sound of your sweet giggles.

“Alright, a hundred then. Two hundred, even,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, followed by a small love bite. “That’s still not enough, though.”

“Still not enough.”

“Forever” This time, he connected your lips in a soft kiss.

“Forever.”

[xlovellydreams]

Wait, what? Thank you so much for all the love under my first post!!!! 😭🩵

[xlovellydreams]

Reuniting

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Summary: Reuniting with Rhysand after Under the Mountain

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ Words Count: 4.7k

˚˙⋆.☾.✮.˙˚ PART 2 !!!

Note: Hi guys! So, as you can see, this is my first work here – and the first one that I do post fully in English (mhm, as you can guess, English is not my first language, so let me know if you find any mistakes so I can correct them quickly). Anyway, I hope you will like it, and let me know if I should maybe do a part 2?

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⟡ ☾ ⟡ 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

It had been fifty years. Fifty years since you last saw Rhysand. You slowly started to begin thinking that you’d never see him again. That you’d never touch him again, hear his laugh, see his smile. You were drowning yourself in expensive wines, just for distraction between mourning his absence and taking care of the Night Court.

The morning was rough for you. Waking up early after drinking so heavily with Cassian last night made your head spin, and your eyes dry and red. You decided to wake yourself up a little. Wrapped in one of his robes you walked out of your room, right into the balcony.

And then, so suddenly he appeared in front of you. Just like that.

You and Rhysand just stared at each other in silence.

His skin was so pale, nothing left from his beautiful tan. On top of that sickeningly pale skin, the dark shadows underneath his dull, violet eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept at all for the last centuries. Those violet eyes, that you knew so perfectly didn’t shine like they used to. No spark in them.

You didn’t know what Rhys had endured Under the Mountain. Didn’t know what Amarantha had forced him to do. You were just standing there, shocked.

“Y/N…” Rhysand finally broke the silence.

You took a small step back, shaking your already spinning head. Your eyes were wide, and you needed to blink rapidly as you just could not believe it.

Rhysand took a step forward. You could see that he was trying to hold back his emotions. His eyes looked pained, so so pained.

“Don’t run from me, please… it’s me. It’s really me…” his voice was shaky.

“Gods” your voice cracked as you shook your head again. You did not even care about that headache anymore. “I shouldn’t have drunk with Cassian. Gods, I am hallucinating.”

Rhysand chuckled under his breath. It sounded hollow, humorless. He took another step closer. He was standing right in front of you now, his tall, lean body mere centimeters away from you. He was so so close to you. You could smell him. He smelt the same. Just like you remembered. Citrus and sea, and you were slowly breaking.

Rhys reached out a hand, carefully taking one of your own.

“Does this feel like a hallucination?” His voice was soft like silk. The voice that you had always known.

You choked out a small cry, tears in your eyes already building. “Holy shit, that wine was freaking strong” you mumbled, brushing your fingers against his. Not believing that you were touching him again. After so long. You honestly were not sure if you were not hallucinating.

Rhysand laughed. That same warm, rich sound that would melt your insides. He took another step closer, his body against yours and he wrapped his lean, strong arms around you, crushing you against his broad chest, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent and sighed deeply.

“Gods, I thought I would never get to hold you again.”

You shattered.

 A loud sob escaped your lips as you immediately wrapped your hands around his neck. Hugging him, holding onto him as your knees buckled and you were sure you would have fallen to the floor if he was not holding you. But he was real and he held you up, not allowing you to collapse.

He was real. Not a hallucination. Not a dream.

Rhysand’s arms tightened around you as you began to cry. He held you as close as he physically could, and he had to bend down so he could bury his head into your shoulder. He pulled you even closer, his body shaking with emotion as he breathed you in. You felt his mouth on your shoulder, his lips pressing into you, a silent apology.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you…” Rhysand repeated over and over again between ragged breaths.

“I won’t drink with Cassian again. It feels too real” you sobbed into his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

He laughed.

A weak laugh was huffed against your shoulder. “Please refrain from drinking with my brother if it’s going to affect you this much” he sounded so much like Rhys you knew. Gods, you had missed that so much.

His body was shaking violently, his emotions overflowing. But it was as if he was desperately trying to appear strong. He slowly pulled his head away from you, pulling back far enough that he could look at your face. His hands came up to gently cup your face, his fingers wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. He examined you with his violet eyes, taking in your face, your eyes, your hair. He was drinking you in.

“You’re more beautiful than I remembered.” Rhys breathed.

Those words snapped you back into reality.

Rhys was really here. He was really back after fifty years, after disappearing so suddenly.

Within seconds you feel the same anger you had felt that day. You gathered your strength, pulling yourself to stand straight and free yourself from his arms. Without thinking twice, you turned, reaching for one of the pillows from the small armchair you were always using while sitting on the balcony. And you threw it at him, hard.

Rhysand had relaxed the moment he saw recognition in your eyes. Then, before he could register what was happening, you’d freed yourself from his arms and swung a pillow at his head. Rhys stumbled backward as the pillow smacked him right in his face. He let it fall to the stone floor of the balcony, looking at you surprised, a small frown appearing on his face.

“What in the Cauldron was that for?”

“What in the Cauldron was that for?!” You snapped angrily, reaching for another pillow, throwing it at him again.

Rhys managed to catch the second pillow you threw at him before it hit his face. Again, he dropped down the cushion looking back up to you.

“You couldn’t have just said ‘welcome back’ like a normal person?” He sighed when he saw you reach for ANOTHER pillow. “Come on, put the pillow down.”

“Idiot! Prick!” You threw that pillow, the one he told you to put down.

Each pillow that hit him, Rhys caught with ease. And each time he caught a pillow he looked at you with a scowl on his face.

“Idiot? Prick? Bit harsh, don’t you think?” he grumbled before another pillow hit him in the chest.

But you were too angry, your eyes filled with tears, as you kept throwing pillows. You were a little glad, that you had spent a lot of sleepless nights on that balcony, buried in blankets and pillows, talking to the stars, praying for him to be back.

“How about you stop throwing things at me and we talk?” He tried to reason with you, but you were having none of it.

“Stupid. Selfish. Thoughtless bastard…” you muttered as you picked up another pillow.

“That’s it. Enough is enough.” Rhysand growled and he stalked towards you.

The next thing you knew, he had wrapped his arms around you and he picked you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing. He was now carrying you off the balcony and into your bedroom. He walked over to the bed and flung you down on it, your body landing on the soft mattress with a thump.

You groaned softly, immediately sitting up, and reaching for a pillow from your bed but his hand stopped you.

Rhys quickly straddled your thighs, using his hands to push you back down onto the bed so you couldn’t get up and grab the pillow. His knees on either side of your legs and, with his hands on your wrists, he pinned your arms above your head. He was above you, looking down at you with an intense expression.

“Do I have to tie you down?” Rhys threatened, narrowing his eyes.

Looking up into his violet eyes you slowly calmed down, taking a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Let me sit up” you murmured softly after a few minutes of silence.

Rhysand watched as your breathing started to level out, your chest slowly rising and falling. He still held you pinned to the bed, your wrists still in his firm grip. He didn’t respond right away, he just silently took you in. He could feel you calming down beneath him, the anger and frustration that had been in your chest earlier now starting to ease.

Finally, he released your wrists. “No more throwing pillows at me,” he told you firmly.

Instead of throwing a pillow this time, you threw yourself, burying your face in his neck, letting out a small sob again.

Rhysand’s arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He felt you bury your face into his neck, your tears staining his shirt. He held you against him closely, his arms like a vice as he practically crushed you to his body. He buried his face in your shoulder, his own body still shaking from emotions.

Rhys was finally holding you again after fifty freaking years.

“You are so pale” you sniffled into his neck, not letting go of him.

Rhysand chuckled at that, though it was humorless. “Fifty years in the darkness of the mountain will do that to a person” he tried to joke, but the humor seemed to be lost when he spoke.

He held the back of your head with one of his hands, his other hand resting on your lower back. Pulling you even closer if it was possible.

“I’m sorry-”, he whispered into your shoulder, his lips pressing against your skin. He repeated it over and over again like a mantra. His body shook with emotion as he continued to hold you tightly to him. After fifty years of hell, he was finally home. He could finally hold you again.

“Don’t apologize” you tried to stop him, but of course, he was not listening.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Rhys’ words were a whisper. He was breathing you in, his nose buried in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to spend fifty years not knowing what had happened to me. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to hold you or comfort you or laugh with you or dance with you or do any of the things I was supposed to do…” Rhys’ words caught in his throat and he shook his head slightly.

Rhysand didn’t listen when you kept telling him to stop apologizing. He had spent fifty years in the darkest hell possible. He had missed you so much. Had thought about you all the time. Wished every single day that he could be free, that he could come home to you. He continued to whisper his apologies into your shoulder. His apologies for disappearing without a trace, his apologies for taking so long to get home to you.

“Stop it Rhys” you begged softly, pulling his face away from your shoulder, your cheeks red from crying. “You are home. Thank you for coming home.”

Rhysand reluctantly let you pull his head back from your shoulder, his body still shaking. He met your eyes, his own filled with tears, though he was fighting to keep them from falling. When you thanked him for coming home, his throat tightened and he swallowed. Felt another wave of guilt and shame wash over his body when he saw the tears streaming down your face and he had to hold back a whimper.

He didn’t deserve the warmth and kindness in your eyes, not after what he had done while he was under the mountain.

You brushed away the tears from his pale cheeks, as you still sat in front of him, wrapped tightly in his robe.

“You look awful,” you said without a hint of hesitation.

For a second, a hint of a smile appeared on Rhys’ lips. There you were, blunt, sarcastic, honest… He had missed you so much.

“Don’t hold back on the insults, please,” he said sarcastically back, his eyes meeting yours.

“You deserve it”

A small, huff of laughter escaped Rhysand’s lips and he shook his head slowly. He supposed he did, after everything that had happened.

He winced a little as you brushed the tears from his cheeks so softly, so tenderly. He didn’t deserve your softness. Didn’t deserve your kindness.

Rhysand was supposed to be tough, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. But under your watchful eyes, he felt weak, broken. He felt raw.

“I feel awful. Physically and mentally, I’m exhausted” he took another deep breath, his eyes not leaving yours. There was so much he wanted to say to you. So much he wanted to confess. But he was tired. Too tired to talk about it all.

You didn’t answer, biting your cheek a little harder as you kept running your fingers against his cheeks, trying not to burst into tears again. Later, you promised yourself to ask him later, not now.

Rhysand’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you brush your fingers against his cheek, the sensation shooting straight to his heart. He could see you biting your cheek, could practically feel the tears building up in your eyes. He knew you were trying to hold back your emotions. He didn’t want you to hold back.

He could barely remember the last time someone had touched him with such care, with such tenderness.

His heart ached in his chest as he looked at you. He hated himself for what he had done. Hated himself for leaving you, for making you worry for fifty years. “You can scream at me,” he spoke quietly, “Go on. Scream at me.”

You were trying desperately to keep it together. This was the first time you had seen him since he had disappeared. You had no idea what had happened in the mountain. You had no idea what he’d endured for fifty years. Just looking at you was already killing him. Rhysand just sat on the bed, letting you sit on his lap, his hands resting on your hips. He sat quietly as you touched his face, his eyes flickering over your, taking in your small little movements, your actions.

He wanted to say something, wanted to keep talking to you, but he couldn’t find the words. All he wanted to do was keep holding you close to him, to bury his head in your shoulder, to hold you and never let you go again.

“You left us” you whispered, your thumb still against his cheek. “Just like that. You left your city, you left Cassian, Azriel, Mor, Amren…”

You left me.

Rhysand heard the pain in your voice, as you spoke. Your eyes weren’t looking at him anymore, your gaze was fixed on your own fingers as they touched his cheek. He slowly brought his hand up, gripping your wrist, forcing you to meet his eyes.

Yes, he had left his friends. He had left his city. But he had also left you. You. His mate. His own beloved. He hated thinking about it. Hated himself for leaving you.

��I had no choice,” he said quietly, reopening his eyes and looking at you.

“We would have found another way!” You snapped at him softly, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

Rhysand reached up with his hand, gently wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. His fingers, which had always been so gentle with you were now trembling slightly.

“There was no other way, you know that as well as I do.” He spoke, his voice quiet and resigned.

He wanted to fight with you, he wanted you to lose your temper. Gods, he wanted you to snap at him. He didn’t deserve your softness. Did deserve your anger, deserved your rage. He was more used to you shouting at him, swearing at him, throwing pillows. Wanted you to shout and yell and curse. He didn’t want your soft voice and your soft touch.

But Rhys also knew you too well. He knew that you would have fought tooth and nail, and risked your own life if you had to, in order to find another way to get rid of Amarantha.

He knew you would fight for your friends, your family.

“You would have gotten yourself killed” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then opened them again and spoke quietly. “You’re smarter than all of us, you know that… But you wouldn’t have found a different way”

“So what” you huffed. “If it meant saving you, I would have done that.”

Rhysand’s heart ached at that response. So casually saying that you would have sacrificed yourself. You would have gotten yourself killed. Willingly sacrificed your life if it meant finding another way of getting rid of that monster... He wouldn’t allow you to do that. Wouldn’t allow you to get yourself killed.

“You are an idiot,” he told you simply.

You were his everything. The light in his darkness.

“One of the stupidest people I’ve ever met,” he continued, his voice getting a little louder as his annoyance with you grew.

“You just said I am the smartest” you huffed, your eyes softening a little at the hint of annoyance in his voice.

Rhysand looked at you, a small smirk appearing on his face as you huffed. His eyes quickly darted down to your hip, where his hand was still gripping you tightly, keeping you on his lap.

“Smart? Yes. Stubborn? Definitely. Idiotic? Abso-fucking-lutely”

You couldn’t help it anymore, letting out a small chuckle.

“Says the prick himself” you pushed his shoulder gently.

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of your chuckle. Gods, he’d missed you. He’d missed your fire, missed your temper. He’d missed listening to you swearing at him.

“Still calling me a prick, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“You deserve it” you mumbled softly, resting your forehead against his. Still sitting on his lap, in his robe as he did not let you go for even a second.

Rhysand couldn’t help but close his eyes as you rested your forehead against his, the gesture so incredibly intimate. His face so close he could feel your breath on his lips. He hummed in agreement as you mumbled that he deserved it. Gods, he did deserve it. He deserved all the insults you wanted to throw at him.

He had dreamed about this so many times under the mountain. So many days and nights of wishing he was at home, with you. Wishing he was holding you instead of being the monster’s plaything.

His grip on your hip tightened again as you continued to sit in his lap. The smell of you, the feel of you… it was driving him crazy.

Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling of being close to you again. “Perhaps I do deserve it” he muttered, a slight edge to his voice. “You still won’t throw a pillow at me again, will you?”

“I should be throwing more pillows at you” you murmured almost against his lips. “Hell, something heavier.”

“Like one of those books on your shelf, perhaps?” He teased, his eyes still closed as he held you. Relishing in the feeling of you against his body, the soft scent of you filling his nose and he inhaled deeply, trying to commit the moment to memory. He never wanted to forget what it felt like to hold you, never wanted to forget the sound of your voice or your soft laugh.

“One of my daggers, perhaps” you teased him back, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmhm” He hummed lazily, a shiver running through his body at the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair. The touch so gentle, so careful. It felt so good, so soothing. Like you were trying to soothe all the pain and trauma away. “Are you threatening your High Lord, darling?”

“I am threatening my mate” you whispered looking straight into his violet eyes.

His mate.

The word mate coming from your lips felt like a jolt to his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he heard you say it, the word wrapping around his heart and squeezing it tight.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his smirk fading and his expression changing to that of something more vulnerable.

Rhys didn’t think he’d ever become tired of you saying that. The fact that you were his mate, that the Mother had bound you to him in such a beautiful, special way. He was a High Lord. A powerful immortal. But here he was, sitting in your bed with you on his lap, your legs on either side of him. So vulnerable, a side he didn’t let others see.

“Say it again,” he spoke, his voice quiet and firm.

He had to hear you say it. Had to hear that word roll from your mouth once more. He needed confirmation. Needed to hear you say it again and again, over and over, just to remind himself that this was real. That he wasn’t still under the mountain, trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

You moved your fingers from his hair, to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his pale skin.

“My mate. My High Lord. My soulmate. My other half” you whispered softly, tracing the lines around his face.

As you repeated the word, his breathing hitched slightly. He could feel his body getting warmer, his chest aching and a lump forming in his throat.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

The word was running through his head over and over again, as if it was the most important word in the world. Rhysand felt like he could cry at the way you were speaking, the way you were touching him.

He’d spent fifty years in hell. Fifty years he was stuck under the mountain, being forced to become that woman’s plaything.

And here you were. Touching him, caressing his skin, calling him your mate. After everything.

“Again.” He knew you didn’t know what he had endured and he hated that. He made sure to keep his shields up, to keep you away from his mind even now. Hated the fact that he couldn’t pull down his mental shields, couldn’t allow you to see what that witch had made him do.

But he was so damn scared you would hate him if you ever found out.

You chuckled a little, snapping him back.  “Later, I will spend the entire night whispering it to you, but now, others are waiting for you too. I bet Cassian and Azriel will be here any second”

Rhysand almost whined as you said you’d whisper it to him later. He wanted you to say it right now, to hear it again and again until he was sure it was real.

But he knew you were right. The idea of seeing his brothers again, of seeing the looks on their faces when they saw that he was home made him smile a little. You mentioning Cassian and Azriel brought a brief sense of relief that flooded his chest. They were alive. They were okay. His family was safe.

Then again, later, you had said. Later. A promise of tonight.  Of lying so close to you all night, in his bed, whispering those words to him over and over again.

He let out a breath, reluctantly accepting the fact that you wouldn’t say it again. Not right now.

“You are cruel, you know that?” He grumbled. “Making your mate wait.” He took a moment to take you in, you sitting in front of him on his lap, your skin almost glowing in the sunlight as the light streamed through the windows. You were beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered. “How do I look?”

You burst into loud giggles at his question.

Rhysand watched as your body shook and your laughs filled his ears, and for a moment, he just stared at you in utter disbelief. He couldn’t believe the sound of your laughter. The sound he had missed so dearly while he was away.

When he finally found his voice, he spoke, a sly smirk on his face. “Is that your way of telling me that I look terrible?” His grip on your hip tightened.

You kept giggling softly, nodding your head as you just couldn’t even speak.

Rhysand feigned hurt at your response and your nods, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he spoke. “You are insufferable, you know that?” Hearing you giggle at his question, and seeing the gleam of pure happiness in your eyes. He felt as though he could get drunk off the sound and sight of your joy.

Letting out a small fake gasp, cupping your cheek “Here I am, finally returned home after fifty years stuck under the mountain, in order to be greeted by a giggling, stubborn mate of mine who is insulting my appearance.”

You only giggled more, making his heart melt, “I am sorry!”

“Apology not accepted,” he said, feigning sternness. He gave your hip a little squeeze. “Say something nice to me, then I’ll consider letting you off.”

Instead of saying you leaned, capturing his lips in a soft and gentle kiss.

Rhysand froze for a moment.

Your lips, soft and gentle against his, filled him with a feeling of warmth he’d not felt in years. He’d had fifty years of Amarantha forcing herself on him, fifty years of being touched by an unwanted hand.

But your touch, your soft, gentle lips against his own, suddenly filled him with a sense of calm. A sense of being home.

He reached up with his other hand, letting go of your hip, to place it on the back of your neck as he kissed you back.

Before he could have even deepened the kiss, before you could have fully lost yourselves, you pulled away, breaking the kiss.

It had been fifty years since he’d felt the feeling of your lips against his own. Fifty years since he’d kissed you, held you. It was agonising to have to stop the kiss so suddenly. Rhysand couldn’t help but let out a small, almost whiny sound of disappointment as you pulled away from him. He could feel his mind going fuzzy, already addicted to the feeling of your lips against his own. He just wanted the moment to last longer. Wanted to keep kissing you until he couldn’t breathe. Wanted to keep kissing you until you were breathless.

“Why’d you stop?” He was not done kissing you, “Come back here.”

“You need to change” you murmured.

Rhysand huffed, but begrudgingly removed his hand from your cheek.

“Fine,” he mumbled, a hint of annoyance in his voice. But his eyes were on your lips again. “Can I expect that I’ll get to taste those lips again once I’m done changing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smiled, so softly as you shook your head. “Later, for the night I am all yours. But now I want you to just, take a bath, relax a little and then come downstairs,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek “because your family is waiting.”

There was that word again. Later. You were really testing his patience here. Rhys stifled the urge to pout as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering on his skin for a moment longer.

Even though he really, really just wanted to stay in your embrace, his family was waiting for him.

He huffed again, the sound turning into a small chuckle. “You are cruel to me” he murmured, begrudgingly letting go of you. His family were waiting, he knew that. He could sense his brothers close; could sense their worry and eagerness. And that’s why he didn’t want to leave you, to leave this room. He didn’t want to leave this bubble that was just you and him.

“Rhys?” You whispered softly, before he could disappear in the bathroom.

Rhysand heard you whisper his name. His name, spoken in your soft voice. Gods, he had missed the way you said it. How you’d say it like a prayer, like a promise.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he responded. “Yes, darling?”

“Welcome home”