#tamlin x rhysand's sister slaps so hard
Text
Promised to Another
Rhysand x Reader
Summary: Request from @moonfawnx: for the rhys' sisters best friend idea, what if reader or rhys is arranged to someone else? maybe a young tamlin- around the time that him and rhys were best friends? imagine the angst
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,605
Notes: we’ll, it’s not Destination Unknown but please, enjoy some more Rhys angst.
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“No,” you shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you stumble away from your parents. You nearly trip over your skirts in your haste to get away from your mothers reaching hands, the look of shock and sadness in her normally gleeful eyes. “No. You can’t make me, I won’t do it.”
Their words ring in your head, over and over and over like a mantra, a sledgehammer to your heart each time they sound.
It pounds so loudly in your ears that you barely hear your father respond, standing from the bed, tall and face hard as stone as he responds, “Yes you will, (Y/N), and you will accept with a smile on your face.”
A sob slips from your lips, the first of many. The damn breaking.
You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the cries that try and wrench their way out of your body. Your stomach coils with dread as you back away. The walls seem to be closing in on you as you step towards the door.
You don’t take your eyes off of your parents, afraid they may lunge after you and force you into staying, into never letting you out of their sight until the harrowing day arrives.
You swallow the thickness in your throat as your fingers fumble behind you for the knob.
“I–I’m going to Araphels,” you say, and it’s not up for negotiation. Your parents don’t respond, your mother standing to clutch onto her husband's arm, stopping him from coming after you. There are tears in her eyes as well, but she’s a female of poise, knows how to bottle up her emotions when necessary, and now, watching her child nearly fall apart because of their words…she won’t let her daughter see her crack.
Twisting the handle you swing open the heavy wooden door, nearly throwing yourself out of the room. There’s a loud slam behind you but you’re already halfway down the long length of the hallway, framed paintings and intricate details of the carpet blurred in your water lined eyes.
You sniffle as you race down the winding stairs, fingers fisted tightly into the fabric of your skirts. You’d thought that they were never-ending when you were a child, but now, when you’re so desperately trying to escape from the proclamation chasing you down the hall it seems as though two more appear for every one you descend.
The night air kisses your wet cheeks and the coolness caressing your face causes you to shiver, the hairs on your bare arms standing, prickling with the chilly winds. You hadn’t grabbed an overcoat on your mad dash from your home, dressed in a sleeveless gown, the nightly air would be soothing if not for the horrific news you’d just been dealt, clawing and tearing it’s way through your mind, your heart, down into the most inner part of your withering soul.
It’s late. You shouldn’t be running through the streets of Velaris alone, nevermind racing across town to your best friend’s house. Surely her father – the High Lord of the Night Court – will be less pleased than he normally is with your appearance at his home.
You sprint as fast as you can manage, each breath constricts your lungs, saliva thick in your throat. Tears sting your eyes, causing the tendrils of hair that have fallen loose to cling to your cheeks.
Araphel’s house is tall, looming, as eerie and out of place as it’s ever been within Velaris, towering over the city like the High Lord is always on watch.
It’s seemingly dark exterior makes it seem as though there’s not a soul prowling inside, not with all of the thick, expensive curtains drawn shut.
The faelights are dim as you approach, and the soaring home located up the winding hill had scared you the first time you’d been invited over when you and your best friend were no older than twelve. You’d nearly run straight back down the sloping path all the way back to your home to hide under your bed, but the proud and reassuring grin Araphel had worn made all of that fear disappear.
You’d been over nearly everyday for a handful of years after, and now…
You can’t think about it, pushing yourself all the way up the stairs and throwing yourself against the door like a half wild beast, pounding at the thick door with your fists. It hurts, beating into the wood like this but you’re desperate. You don’t care if you draw the attention of the entire house, the pussyfoot wraiths, the cheeky Illyrians that sometimes stayed the night, the brash High Lord…not even he could stop you from seeing your best friend right now.
The door swings open in an instant and you tumble through, chest heaving and gasping for breath while the sobs continue to wrack your body.
You fall into a warm embrace, uncaring of who it is because as long as it isn’t your parents you hardly care who it is right now–
“(Y/N)?”
Rhysand.
“What is it, what’s going on?” His voice is tinged with worry, arms wrapping around you, pulling you from his chest to frantically check you over for wounds of any kind.
And it would be funny…being held by your best friends gorgeous brother, the one you’d been flirting with since you were a little girl, the one who had been your first kiss, your first time, your first lo–
What a sight you must be to him, hair tousled and wind-blown, eyes rimmed red and tears streaming down your face, unable to talk because you’re so upset, if it weren’t for the news haunting you, skittering through the closing door and wrapping around you full force.
“Where’s–Ara,” you hiccup, clamping your hands around the wrists of his pressed jacket because you want your best friend but you don’t want Rhysand to let you go for an instant.
“She’s in Windhaven with my parents,” Rhys tells you and you release another heart shattering sob. He pulls you into his chest immediately, cradling the back of your head and hugging you close with a hand around your waist, letting you cling to him like you’ve done on all those nights he had you in his bed and didn’t want you to go. “(Y/N), sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
His heart is pounding in his chest. He’s itching to know what’s got you so worked up, who’s hurt you in such a way you’re nearly crumbling in his hold. Darkness seeps from his pores, a thick and menacing entity that's begging to be unleashed and wreathed upon the city.
He hadn’t seen this sort of power in a long time, hiding it so deeply within himself so his father wouldn’t find out just how powerful he is.
“Talk to me, darling, please,” Rhys begs because he doesn't know what else to do. He wants to protect you, to attack on your behalf, because the things you make him feel are not emotions he’s ever felt in such capacity before, even if he did feel sick about seeing his sister's best friend at first. You mean more to him now than anything ever has before.
“They–” you can hardly breathe, you’re crying so hard. You’re holding on so tightly that not even the strongest warrior or the powers of the High Lord could tear you from him. The only person that may be able to separate the two of you is your best friend but she’s in Windhaven right now and you curse yourself for not keeping up with your winnowing practice.
“They want me to–”
“Shh,” Rhys soothes. He’s fretting over you, petting your hair and rubbing your back like a child. He’s more worried than he knows, which makes him realize just how much he actually likes you and is scared for you, “Sweetheart, you need to breathe. I’m right here.”
His words only make you sob harder because if you do what your parents want you to do then he won’t be so close. And neither will Araphel.
You pull back so suddenly it startles him. Rhys’ hand tightens around your waist for a fleeting moment before he’s caressing your cheek, wiping your tears and peeling the chunks of hair that are glued to your cheeks away and over your ear.
His chest is aching for you and he can’t help himself, he presses a kiss to one cheek and then your other. It burns and lingers, soothes you near instantly, his grounding hands working warmth into your bare arms, up and down and up and down, like he’s soothing a babe.
You bite your lip harshly, trying your best to get your breathing under control.
Rhys takes one of your hands and places it over his chest, wanting you to match the exaggeratedly slow breathing pattern he’s following just to help you calm down.
Your heart thaws a little at the action.
Once you’ve managed to calm down enough to speak, Rhys is asking again, a soothing thumb brushing across your lip, releasing it from where you’re chewing it between your teeth.
“What’s going on?”
Tears fill your eyes and your lips tremble and Rhys is worried you’ll burst into sobs once more but he catches the way your throat works around the clay lump in your throat from his peripherals.
The words are like acid when they tumble from your mouth, as you watch his face grow from concerned and scared to utterly furious, the darkness unraveling from within him once more.
“My parents…they want me to marry Tamlin.”
#rhysand#rhysand x reader#rhysand/reader#rhys/reader#rhys x reader#acotar#acowar#acomaf#acotarxreader#night court#acofas#azsazz#rhysand angst#rhys angst
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Alone in the Ashes {15}
A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.
Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.
For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: Sorry it took a few extra hours - the chapter was too short so I had to decide what I wanted to add in from chapter 16! Enjoy~
Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x
“We accept the love we think we deserve.” - Stephen Chbosky, the Perks of Being a Wallflower
Cassian couldn't think straight.
That anger, that motherfucking anger, was creeping up on him.
Tomas.
The bastard that sure as hell wasn't good enough for Nesta, was staring at her like she was a piece of meat, a prize to be won. Cassian wanted to hit that look right off his face.
“Aren’t you the guy that moved in across the hall from her?”
He was drinking a beer and had been ignoring Cassian until now.
Cassian gave him a short nod.
“What, you two friends now?” Tomas asked, looking back at Nesta. “I thought you hated him. Said he was annoying as fuck.”
Nesta ignored his question, his comment. She asked, quietly, “Where the hell have you been?”
Cassian stilled. The fact that she still cared made him nauseous. Maybe he was in the wrong, but he thought Nesta had forgotten about Tomas long ago. Thought he had helped her forget about Tomas a long time ago.
“Adriata,” he said, shrugging. “Went along the Coast. Surfed.”
“You just fucking left,” Nesta gritted out. “Without saying anything because I hurt your fucking pride.”
Cassian had taken her home that night, when Tomas had abandoned her at the nightclub.
“Needed some time away,” he said, simply, and smiled.
Nesta wouldn't look at Cassian.
He had yet to touch his whiskey.
“Did you miss me?” Tomas asked.
Nesta looked at Cassian, then she turned her back to them both.
He couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, didn't want to know what was going through her mind. If he knew, his anger would only grow.
He kept watching Tomas.
“What time do you get off?” Tomas asked, continuing his interrogation.
“Late,” Nesta answered.
“I’ll wait,” he said, grinning.
Nesta looked over her shoulder at him, then at Cassian. Her eyes were hard, unreadable. She didn’t tell him to fuck off, didn’t tell him to go to hell. Instead, she said, “I’m on break. Be back in five.”
She left, leaving Cassian to stare, dumbfounded, after her. Before Tomas could say anything more, Cassian tossed some cash next to his untouched drink and made his way into the alley, where Nesta was standing, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette.
Unsurprised by him storming in, Nesta didn’t bother to look up at him as he stopped in front of her.
“What the fuck?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice monotone.
Cassian shook his head. Maybe he’d gotten everything all wrong, read the signs all wrong. All the time they had spent together the last few weeks - maybe it was just for sex, something to fill the void for her after Tomas left.
Maybe now that he was back, she had no need for Cassian anymore.
He raked a hand through his hair, calming himself. “Are you coming over when you get off?”
Nesta looked tired. “I don’t know.”
“Because Tomas will be waiting for you?” he asked, before he could think twice about it.
Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Cass.”
He shook his head, laughing, humorlessly. “What am I to you?”
She didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question,” he said, voice low.
Nesta blew smoke into his face. “I don’t owe you an answer, so fuck off.”
Cassian took a step back, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. “Alright. Fine.”
He started walking away, back toward the sidewalk, where he stopped. “I’ll leave my door open, when you get off. If you don’t show up, I’ll take the hint.”
Nesta said nothing.
Cassian walked away.
He found his bike, the one he’d finished that morning, near the other side of the building before strapping on his helmet and speeding away.
That anger, that fucking anger, crept into his mind, into his soul, and he couldn’t control it. They were doing so well, getting along so perfectly, until that fucker waltzed in, pretending like nothing ever happened. Cassian remembered the first day he’d met Nesta, when Tomas was there, and she was a fucking mess. High on Mother-knows-what, hungover, depressed. Now he was back, and Nesta shut down, pretended like Cassian no longer existed. And he had thought that things had changed, that she and him were starting to…
Unimportant.
It was unimportant, didn’t matter anymore.
Maybe she was just surprised, thrown off by Tomas’s unexpected presence.
Cassian tried to push the anger away.
He would go home and do what he said he would - leave the door unlocked, wait like a pathetic jackass who felt too strongly for a woman like Nesta Archeron.
So that’s what he did.
And just after midnight, he heard low voices outside of his apartment. Drunk on whiskey, he opened his door, and found Tomas stumbling into Nesta’s apartment.
He met Nesta’s gaze, but it was like looking into a never ending abyss. Empty. Dead. An endless void.
She watched him, though. Watched his eyes go wide, then harden. Watched his jaw lock as he shook his head. “Hint taken,” he slurred. “Fuck you, N-Nesta.”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t act like the words affected her at all. But she watched him, those empty, stormy blue eyes - watched as he took a step back and slammed his door shut.
That anger returned, rising at an uncontrollable speed.
He threw his glass, still holding a thin layer of whiskey, against the wall in his living room, where it exploded into shards of glass, dark, caramel colored liquid raining down the ivory wall.
“Fuck!” he yelled, and Bryaxis was instantly up from his bed, following his master down the hall.
Cassian stomped into his bedroom and tossed himself onto his mattress where Bryaxis instantly was, knowing his father was having an episode, knowing he couldn’t control the anger, that hated anger.
The pup pulled himself over Cassian’s abdomen, laying his chin on Cassian’s chest, paws outstretched. Cassian closed his eyes, told himself to breathe.
That anger lingered, even as he calmed, but Cassian told himself that it was all his fault.
He had started to fall in love with her.
And no good ever came from falling for a woman like Nesta Archeron.
~~~~~
Rhysand awoke to his bed creaking, just after midnight.
Feyre had hurried out of the room, down the hall. He heard the bathroom door shut.
He picked up his phone off the nightstand and opened his messages, where he had missed five texts after falling asleep early.
Three were from Cassian.
Feyre’s sister is a bitch.
Whiskey is good. I like whiskey.
Where the fuck are you and Az you little lovesick fuckers.
Rhys made a mental, uncertain note to give Cassian a call in the morning.
The next text was from Azriel. It was a picture of Mila, who was wearing the new pink Batman pajamas Rhysand had ordered her online. Beneath the picture read, Mila has been jumping across all the furniture all night, pretending to be Batgirl. At one point, she body slammed me. It was all fun and games until I got kneed in the balls.
Rhysand huffed a laugh, pulling up the last text that was from an unsaved number. Your ring is in. You can pick it up at your earliest convenience.
He quickly deleted the message as Feyre swept back into the room, bare body outlined in the dark, starlit room.
“Sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, watching her climb across the bed to him. “Cassian was having a drunken, mental breakdown, it seems.”
He put his phone back on the nightstand as she asked, “Because of Nesta?”
“Seems so,” Rhysand muttered, as Feyre fell back against the pillows. He climbed over her body, and her arms wrapped around his waist. “Who knows.”
Feyre rolled her eyes. “I won’t be getting in the middle of that mess.”
Rhysand chuckled, kissing her, softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, hands wandering down to his ass. “Sleep.”
“You’re going to be tired for work in the morning,” he murmured.
Feyre huffed a laugh, pushing his wild hair off of his forehead. “I’m okay with that.”
With a grin, Rhysand pressed his mouth to Feyre’s, his tongue sliding between her lips to brush alongside her own.
One last night of peace, one last night before Rhysand woke up the next morning, kissed Feyre goodbye, and got ready for himself to leave the house. Because after Feyre left in the morning, he would be going to see Tamlin.
And, it seems, he had a ring to pick up.
~~~~~
“It’s getting late,” Elain whispered, glancing at the clock.
“Yeah,” Azriel agreed, quietly.
They had been lying awake for hours, talking about everything and nothing and all things in between. Now, he could see the exhaustion sweeping over her.
“Get some sleep,” he said, smiling.
But Elain didn’t smile back. Her palm rested against his cheek, her thumb brushing over his open lips. Azriel’s own smile faded at her touch.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Azriel didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned in closer, pulled her to him by her waist, and pressed his lips against hers. Elain fell back against his bed, and he hovered over her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.
Her delicate hands swept down his back, under the hem of his shirt. Her hands were warm against his skin as they crept up. Chills swept down his spine.
Elain tugged at the fabric, and Azriel leaned back, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it onto the floor.
Elain pushed against his chest, a silent plea for him to lay down, and when he did, she straddled his waist. Those delicate fingers trailed over his chest, his abdomen. Her brown eyes were bright as slipped off her sweatshirt, and her tanktop.
“Elain,” Azriel hesitated, his entire body reacting beneath her. “We don’t have to-”
“I want to,” she said, laughing quietly. She took his hands and put them against her body. Azriel’s hands swept up her stomach, to her breasts. His fingers brushed over the outline of her bra, careful not to catch the lace on his rough, calloused fingertips. She leaned down into him, lips crashing into lips.
Azriel had been so patient. Had taken things slow.
It was easy to take things slow with Elain. She was easy to talk to, easy to be gentle with. But in that moment, Azriel was done being gentle. His body ached for anything but gentleness.
He unhooked her bra, and she let him slide it down her arms and palm her breasts. Azriel flipped her onto her back, smile bright as she looked up at him. Azriel pressed his lips, softly, against her abdomen, and she held onto the back of his head as those feather-like kisses trailed up, tongue sweeping over her nipples, lips finding the base of her neck.
Elain’s eyes fluttered shut as she breathed, heavily, as she inched down Azriel’s shorts with her fingertips.
A soft growl escaped him as his lips found hers, once again.
“Elain.” He whispered her name between the whirlwind of kisses, but was unable to say anything more, because a loud knock came to his bedroom door.
“Uncle Az!” Mila’s little voice came through the door.
Azriel froze, then sighed, his head falling against her chest, between her breasts. Elain, unable to help herself, laughed quietly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
With a groan, Azriel pulled himself off of her and hopped off the bed, pulling his shorts back up to his hips. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, smiling fondly as she pulled his blanket up over her body.
Azriel stopped at the door, trying to collect himself as Mila knocked, again.
“Okay,” he breathed, and opened his bedroom door to find a teary-eyed four year old, clutching her blanket.
He frowned, shutting his door quietly behind him. “What’s wrong?”
She reached her arms up, and Azriel gathered her into his arms as he carried her back into her room.
She laid her messy-haired head against his shoulder.
“Bad dream,” she said, yawning, as Azriel sat on the edge of her bed with her on his lap. “Those men took mama away and she was crying.”
Azriel blew out a long, slow breath. It was impossible, trying to find a way to tell Mila what was happening without telling her that her mom was a horrible woman. Yes, he hated Amarantha, but he wouldn’t let his view of Amarantha cloud Mila’s.
“It was just a dream,” he said, quietly. “Your mama is okay in there. And she loves you and she misses you, okay?”
Mila yawned, nodding, slowly.
“Let’s get you back to sleep,” Azriel murmured, laying Mila down and tucking her in tight. “Don’t want to be tired for preschool in the morning. I love you.”
“Love you,” Mila said, eyes already closed. He patted her back, gently, until her breathing evened out; then, he backed out of her room, slowly and quietly, until he was back across the hall, sneaking into his own bedroom.
Where Elain was sound asleep.
“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, laying down on the other side of his bed.
It took him a longass time to fall asleep.
And when morning came, and he stumbled into the kitchen, Mor was already sitting at the table, grinning with a cup of coffee.
“May I help you?” he mumbled, pulling open the fridge for some orange juice.
“Took you a long time to open your door for Mila in the middle of the night,” she said, sipping from her mug.
Azriel shut the door and spun around, exasperated. “You were awake? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mor shrugged. “She wanted you, not me. Now, what did she interrupt?”
“Nothing,” Azriel muttered. “Didn’t have a chance to….nevermind. I’ve got to run to the store to get a few things before I head to Elain’s dad’s to finish up. Mind taking Mila to school for me?”
“I’d be honored,” she said, winking.
Azriel took the orange juice into his bedroom and got dressed. He had pulled on a hat over his messy hair when Elain woke up.
She smiled sleepily at him.
“Good morning,” he said, quietly.
“Good morning,” she repeated. “Sorry about last night.”
Azriel smiled. “Don’t be. It was late. I’ll be done around noon. Can I come get you for your lunch?”
“Please do,” she smiled, and he kissed her forehead before walking out.
Mor’s grin followed him until he was out the door.
~~~~~
After Feyre left, Rhysand had run to Tamlin’s office, but he wasn’t in, yet, and wouldn’t be until ten. So, he drove down the strip until he came upon a little, local jewelry shop.
He was welcomed by the owner, an elderly man, who was smiling broadly behind the counter.
“I see you got my message.”
Rhysand smiled. “Couldn’t wait. Can I see it?”
The owner went to the back of the shop and came back with a little black velvet box. He handed it to Rhysand, who opened it with shaking fingers.
It was perfect.
Simple, he couldn’t afford too much, but he knew she would like it. A thin, rose gold band with a small, pear-shaped diamond.
“I can make the first payment today,” Rhysand said, closing the lid. “I can take it with me today, though, right? Even if it’s not paid in full?”
“Of course,” the man smiled.
Rhysand slipped the ring into his pocket before making his payment, thanking the owner, and leaving. He wasn’t sure when he’d ask, but he figured he would know when the moment felt right.
All he knew was that he was in love with Feyre. He had always been in love with Feyre. There was no one else he would want to ask to spend the rest of his life with him.
As he got into his car, he pushed the idea into the back of his mind and put the ring into his glove box.
At nearly ten, he was driving back down the strip, until he was parked in front of Tamlin’s father’s building, where Tamlin got a job for simply being his father’s son.
Rhysand didn’t wait. He got out of his car and walked into the building, heading straight for the elevators.
He rode up to the twelfth floor, where the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “I told Mr. Lewis you stopped by. He said to send you in when you come back.”
Rhysand nodded his thanks and went through the winding halls until he was in front of Tamlin’s office door. He didn’t bother knocking.
Tamlin looked up, one brow raised, as Rhysand entered and sat in one of the armchairs on the other side of his desk.
For a moment, neither of them talked.
“Gad to see you’re healing,” Tamlin said, with a small, snarky smile. “Not surprised to see you coming to my office. Can’t get your ass kicked here.”
Rhysand shook his head. “I came here to talk to you like a fucking man. We’re not in high school, Tamlin. I’m not like you. I don’t go around looking for trouble like a fucked up teenager.”
Tamlin’s pride wasn’t hurt. That smile remained as he cocked his head. “I liked when Feyre came to my apartment the other day. How very chivalrous of her. Reminded me of simpler times, when she warmed my bed, not yours.”
“Don’t talk to me about Feyre,” Rhysand said, trying not to let the words bother him. “It’s sad, really, how your need to make her miserable has come this far.”
Tamlin’s smile faded. “I love her. All I do is for her.”
“That’s bullshit,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “Feyre loves me, and you cannot stand that you lost her. When, in reality, it’s all your fault. You pushed her away with your pride, your incessant need to be in charge of everything, her included. And now that she’s finally happy, you can’t stand it. Because it’s me, the person you hate the most, who is making her happy.”
Tamlin didn’t move. He watched Rhysand with a deadly calm, one that Rhys matched as he propped his elbows on the armrests and leaned forward.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Rhysand went on. “I never was, and I never will be, but Feyre doesn’t deserve to live with you constantly looming over her shoulder, so you will back the fuck off.”
Tamlin, to Rhysand’s surprise, grinned. “She’ll come back to me, no matter what I do. She was with me for almost a decade. She’s with you now because you were around, and she was lonely.”
The words struck a nerve as Rhysand’s worst nightmare was voiced by his greatest foe.
But he didn’t let it show. “Will you still be saying that when Feyre becomes my wife? Because she will. Soon. I’ve got a ring, I plan to propose, and you’ll be the first person I tell when she says yes.”
Tamlin was up from his desk and storming around the corner where Rhysand met him, on his feet.
“Ask her to marry you and you’ll be looking worse on your wedding day than you do right now,” Tamlin spat.
He jabbed Rhysand in his broken ribs, and the pain was excruciating, but Rhysand was ready, this time. Rhysand elbowed Tamlin in the jaw before pushing him back onto his desk and holding him down by his throat. His laptop fell off, along with a giant stack of - what Rhysand assumed - important documents.
“You’ll leave us alone,” Rhysand said, gritting through the pain that shot through his body. “You forget that I know you, Tamlin, that I’ve known you for your entire life. If you want to keep the glamorous life you have, your dad’s money, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. If you ever cared for Feyre, you’ll leave us the fuck alone. And, if you don’t, I will personally destroy you. So leave us. The fuck. Alone.”
Rhysand slammed Tamlin’s head back into his desk one last time, for good measure, before storming out.
Tamlin didn’t come after him.
~~~~~
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@julemmaes
@regular-nessian-trash
@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s
@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut
@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome
@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta
Prompts:
{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous
{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous
{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous
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