#rhys wby au

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

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

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

warnings: none

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

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

“I miss her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hit me.”

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

“What is it this time?” 

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

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

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

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

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

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

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

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.” 

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

“What did it appear to you as?”

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

**

Days later…

Come back home.

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

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

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

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

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

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

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

"Hello, daybreak.”

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

 Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

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

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

“I’m hurt.”

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

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

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

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

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

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

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

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

“How can I ever repay you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Masterlist

Summary: When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

a/n: there might be a third part, pending how I end part two and I might write like a bonus for this so I decided to just make a little masterlist to keep everything in one place (:

☪ = smut ☁︎ = fluff `♡´= angst

⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ part one

⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ part two

⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ part three *coming soon*

⋆ ☀︎ ⋆ valentine's day bonus

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

[prythianpages]

The Sun & the Moon | Rhysand x Reader

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

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

Happy Valentine's Day! ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never written a poem before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wrote something for me?”

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

“Roses are red. Violet’s are–”

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

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

“Cas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this is the poem:

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

Cause you are so beautiful.

You radiate light like the sun.

And you bring me calmness like the moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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