70 messages into the 2258 and he's already sending dick pics and moaning into the chat and tbh I'll just be writing rhysand's masturbation monologues for at least half of this (and then mark it deleted, so I'll know what's wrong with this man and you only get deleted deleted deleted hehehehe)
What if the Attor was Tamlin the entire time in Under the Mountain?
the ending of book one got to me where it is revealed that the attor shapeshifter as tamlin in the last trial. we get to know that attor can shape shift - so what other time throughout the book one did he shape-shift while amarantha had tamlin locked away somewhere?
- possible theory why tamlin never brought anything up from their time UTM post book 1
Feysand/Tamsand | Warning: Infidelity | 2511 words
Chapter 26: And I'm tired of believing the better will come later.
Summary: After Feyre overhears Rhys on the phone and believes the trip is for her and Rhys, Tamlin is left alone and disappointed. Will Rhys come back ready to break up with Feyre or will someone else make that decision for him?
Playlist with the songs each chapter title is from
Read on AO3, preview below:
Wednesday June 27th
The three of them are hanging out in the living room one day watching the latest episode of Love island, Rhys and Feyre on the couch while Tamlin sits on the chair, half watching the show while working on the shop's schedule for the weekend when he is gone. Lucien is gone for a couple weeks playing shows around neighboring cities so he only had to make up a lie to tell Feyre why he wasn't going to be home until Sunday night. He'd landed on saying his brother requested he attend a florist convention a couple towns over to learn about the latest trends and since his brother is the technical owner of the shop, Feyre didn't think anything strange of the request.
It's been two weeks since he and Tamlin had that argument and he'd invited him to go away with him as a way to smooth it over. They'd spent each day texting each other about things they wanted to do and talking about how excited they were about getting some real time together, not just Tamlin sneaking over to Rhys’ a couple times a week. He'd also spent that time trying to think of how he was going to break up with Feyre. It still made him feel sick, the pain he felt at breaking her heart was real but he knew he needed to do it. For Tamlin. He had finally resigned himself to what he needed to do and of course that's when Feyre threw a wrench in their weekend plans.
"Okay, the suspense is killing me. When are you going to ask me to go with you?" She asks as the show goes to a commercial break, pressing mute on the remote before turning to Rhys where he is sitting beside her on the couch.
"Go with me?"
"On your business trip! I know you requested that I come along! I heard you on the phone. Ressina already cleared my time off."
Rhys just stared at her before looking towards Tamlin who had gone still, and back. "Oh, you did?"
"Yes! At first I wasn't sure but then you called the hotel and booked the romantic suite and I knew you were going to surprise me. I didn't think it was going to be two days before though."
He knows he should make up an excuse, say she misheard or that it was for one of his employees, maybe Mor. Or say he was bringing Cass or Az and the romantic sweet was the only one available. But as he looked into her excited gaze, he found himself nodding. "Right…Sorry, Darling. I just wanted to make sure everything was set up correctly before asking."
Feyre beamed."You're lucky I overheard so I could take the time off."
Opening his mouth to respond, Rhys jumped when Tamlin shot up, muttering 'excuse me' before leaving the room. He wanted to follow him, to explain but how could he when he didn't even know what was happening. So he stays put and listens to Feyre talking about how excited she is, how she looked up the area and what was around there and what they could do when he's not in the conference.
Eventually she excuses herself to pack and he heads down to Tamlin's room. He knocked on the door, waiting for him to open it instead of just walking in like he normally does. He had to find a way to make this up to him, but how?
Summary: When Tamlin and Rhysand find out their kids are mates, they're forced to face their own unresolved past.
Warnings: none methinks?
Word count: 1.2k
A/N: hello hello! It's so good to be back baby!! Sorry this is a short one, but I didn't have much time to write and I also didn't know what else to write lol. It's a bit different from what I usually write so I hope you like it. I personally had so much fun writing their bickering. It's based on this request!
Main masterlist | Rhysand masterlist | Tamlin masterlist | AO3
The room was silent in that way that could only mean two things: either it was empty, or the people occupying it were immortal Fae who barely made any noise even while breathing.
The two males sat perfectly still across from each other, a small, round coffee table between their armchairs. The scene might have looked normal enough from the outside, but the tension between them could be cut with a knife. Maybe one of those Illyrian blades Rhysand had gifted Tamlin centuries ago, when things were less complicated.
It felt like a lifetime ago. And despite all the time between then and now, the two High Lords had never really made peace with what had happened. Not after their families’ deaths, not after Amarantha and Feyre, not after the destruction of the Spring Court and the decades it had taken to rebuild it.
And now, the possibility of becoming family loomed over them both like a burial shroud.
“So,” Rhysand finally said, breaking the silence and stopping what was only a moment away from becoming a staring contest. He leaned back in his armchair and crossed an ankle over a knee with all the nonchalance he could muster. “My son and your daughter.”
Tamlin's posture was rigid, his back stiff, not fully leaning against the back of the armchair. His hands gripped the armrests as if he was still debating whether to let his claws emerge or not.
“My daughter has clearly been abducted by your son.” His reply was dry, his voice full of disdain. “Hyacinth knows better than to mingle with the Night Court.”
A flash of something like frustration crossed Rhysand's violet eyes, but when he spoke, his voice carried his usual hint of amusement. “Mingle with the Night Court?” he repeated, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Last time I checked, we were allies, Tamlin.”
“The last time you checked was sixty years ago.”
“Oh?” A faint smirk graced his lips. “And did something happen in these sixty years for us to stop being allies?”
Tamlin's scowl didn't falter. “You visited only to see how I had rebuilt my court after your mate destroyed it.”
The change in Rhysand's relaxed posture was subtle—just a tick in his jaw—but it was there. “You locked her up and sold her sisters to Hybern.”
Nails began to slowly sharpen into claw tips. “Even if I had known what Hybern was planning with her sisters, my people shouldn't have had to pay the price of her retaliation.”
Rhysand inclined his head, the silence stretching for a few moments as he let his gaze slowly wander over Tamlin.
“Perhaps,” he conceded eventually. “But that was ninety years ago. Things are different now.”
“Ninety years don't change what she did,” Tamlin almost snarled.
Rhysand didn't miss a beat. “And four hundred years don't change what you did.”
Tamlin glared at him, but the other High Lord only stared back. They were at an impasse, neither of them willing to back down, but bringing up the past wouldn't lead anywhere. They could be stuck accusing each other of past mistakes for hours, and that wasn't what they were here to do.
A minute passed. Then two. And eventually, Tamlin let his claws shrink back into short nails.
“Where's Feyre?” He glanced around, as if he thought she might appear out of nowhere. “She couldn't be bothered to be here to discuss this matter?”
“She never wants to step into your court again, and I can't blame her.” Rhysand looked at his nails, examining them. Whether he was mocking his claws, Tamlin couldn't tell. “Besides, she's talking to Nyx. Making sure he knows what kind of family he'd become a part of if he truly decides to go through with this.”
The scowl returned to Tamlin's face. “You can think whatever you want about me, Rhysand, but I will not let you come into my house and imply my daughter is not a good person.”
Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “I never said she wasn't.”
Again, the two High Lords stared at each other. This time, it was Rhysand who broke the silence.
“Look,” he sighed, setting both his feet back on the floor and leaning forward in his chair. “I care about my son, you care about your daughter. And we both know we can't stop them if they decide to accept the bond.”
“Then why are you here?” Tamlin asked, skepticism lacing his words.
Rhysand clasped his hands in front of him. “I'm here to know what you're going to do. If you plan to stand in their way, or if you'll give them your blessing.”
“My blessing,” he repeated slowly, like he was testing the word as if it were a weapon. He didn't particularly like the sound of it.
Green eyes lingered on the gardens outside the large windows and the rustling leaves kissed by the last rays of day before meeting a violet gaze.
“My daughter claims to love your son,” Tamlin finally said, his voice quiet.
Rhysand inclined his head in a faint nod. “And Nyx claims to love her.”
“And why should I believe that's true?”
“I believe it,” Rhysand said simply. “And most importantly, your daughter believes it.”
“She's a young girl.”
“She's eighty.”
Silence fell again, and the staring resumed while they both considered their options.
Nyx and Hyacinth weren't children anymore, they could make their own decisions. And if their parents tried to stop them—even if those parents were two High Lords and a High Lady—they'd find a way to accept the bond anyway, and it would likely ruin their relationship with their family. But giving them their blessing would mean to welcome someone they could barely stand to see, someone with whom they had a complicated and unresolved history, into their family.
“Feyre and I won't stop them,” Rhysand stated. “Nyx is old enough to know what he wants, and his happiness comes first.” He sighed, straightening in his chair. “Even if it means letting him be with your daughter.”
Tamlin was quiet for a moment longer, but eventually, he gave a simple nod. “Hyacinth is more important than our old resentment. But,” he added quickly, “I want to meet your son first. The last time I saw him, he was sixteen. I want to make sure he'll treat her right.”
Rhysand didn't protest. Instead, his fingers lazily drummed on the armrest of his chair. “I'm sure that can be arranged. We'd also like to know who he'll spend the rest of his life with.”
Reaching an agreement—and doing so without the conversation escalating—was an impressive achievement in itself. Hard feelings still lingered between the two males, a bitterness that would likely never fully fade, but they were at least able to put it aside for the wellbeing of their children.
Rhysand was the first to rise. “I'll speak with my mate and my son,” he said, picking an imaginary speck of lint off his sleeve. “We will send you a message to arrange a meeting.”
Tamlin stood as well, simply offering another small nod. “Fine.”
Neither of them bothered with a farewell. The two High Lords exchanged one last glance before Rhysand winnowed away, disappearing in the blink of an eye. A faint scent of citrus lingering in the air was the only sign he had ever been there.
Tamlin stood there for a moment longer, staring at the now empty chair, wondering what he'd just agreed to. Then he turned and went looking for his daughter.
Bak with another drabble about Tamlin's juicy peach and Rhysand's obsession with it.
Booty drabble #1 here
Rhys was supposed to be watching the football game, Illyria vs. Hewn, on TV after he couldn't get the time off to go to the game with Az in person. He wanted to support Cass as he played his first game back after his shoulder injury but Rhys found he could barely look away from the mess of blonde hair in his arms.
His boyfriend had come over after his shift at the bakery, showering off the flour and chocolate that had somehow ended up in his hair before coming out wearing one of Rhys' hoodies and a pair of Rhys' boxers that were tight around his ass and thighs, looking more like boxer briefs on him. Rhys had forced himself to behave, to turn on the game instead of marching his love back into the bedroom and having his way with him.
Which led him to where they are now; Rhys laying on the couch with Tamlin on top of him. Legs entwined, Tamlin's head on his shoulder as he swiped through his phone. One of Rhys’ hands was holding the remote, hanging off the side of the couch as the other was on Tamlin's ass, fingers tracing the crease where his ass became his thigh; occasionally lifting it to let it jiggle.
The announcement for halftime comes on and Tamllin looks up at him. "How long is the break?"
"Around fifteen minutes, Darling. Why?"
Tamlin's eyes sparkle with mischief as he grabs the hand that's on his ass and moves it up to slide into the back of the boxers. "Since you have such a fixation on my ass, do you wanna see what you can do to it in fifteen minutes?"
Rhys gives him a dirty smile and squeezes his ass. "Challenge accepted."
They don't make it back to the living room to watch the rest of the game and Rhys has to watch clips and read about the game so he can pretend to Cass.
