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[acourtofimagines]

This is the only furnace I want 😭

Say Yes to Heaven - Lucien

Pairing: Lucien × Reader

Summary: You find the bed empty upon waking up. Bundled in your blanket, you head out to find Lucien and demand that he warm you up.

Tags & Warnings: Fluff, suggestive but nothing explicit (if i miss anything, let me know)

Word Count: 1077

Links: Masterlist

Sunight creeps languidly through the heavy drapes, heralding the persistent call of the waking world. The day has come, and in minutes, the entire room is bathed in golden light. You’re forced to relinquish the last dregs of sleep clinging to you. You roll over expecting to find Lucien beside you, only to see that his side of the bed is empty. You run your palm over the sheets and find them still warm.

With one last stretch, you pull yourself out of the bed and onto your feet. You wrap the blanket tightly around your shoulders, not ready to give up their warm embrace just yet. The manor is deathly quiet as you pad through the hallways as if the rest of the world is as reluctant to wake too. The persistent chill of winter remains in the air, the tiles as cool as ice beneath your feet. The blanket trails on the floor behind you, and you can already imagine the legendary scolding Jurian would give you if he were to catch you. You imagine Vassa would only laugh at you, if she wasn't too busy being a bird.

Thankfully, no such altercations occur, and you find Lucien sitting in the library, busy reading what you assume are reports from Prythian. He’s lounging by the fire, clad only in his rumpled, unbuttoned tunic and plain trousers. His legs are carelessly spread, his cheek resting on his hand - the picture of relaxed nonchalance. Lucien wears finery like a fine suit of armor, his bravado like a sword secured at his hip, and it’s rare to see him so unguarded, so candid. When he spots you, all bundled up, by the door, a bemused expression makes its way across his face.

“You left,” you sniff indignantly.

His only response to your complaint is a smirk. So you pad deeper into the room until you're standing in between his legs. The smug look on his face only seems to grow at the increased proximity.

“Why?” He asks. “Did you miss me?” Lucien’s eyes trail down your body with deliberate slowness, stalling over your exposed thighs. His hand comes up to grasp the side of your hip, a movement made instinctually, naturally, as though his existence only makes sense when you’re there, with him.

You don’t deign to respond, but you let him pull you onto his lap. He wraps his arms around you, tucking you under his chin as he continues to read. You sink onto him, enjoying the heat that perpetually radiates off his body. He’s basically a sentient furnace, your love. Your hands trail beneath his shirt and he jolts the moment your cold hands make contact with his skin.

“Mother’s tits, you’re freezing.” He exclaims, wiggling in his seat.

“Because you left,” you retort, running your hands languidly over his back. Goosebumps rise in the wake of your touch. “This is your doing, miscreant.”

Lucien cackles but recovers. “Apologies, my lady,” Lucien says with exaggerated gravity, his hand over his chest. “I’m adequately chastised. I’ll be sure never to abandon you in bed again.”

“You better,” you threaten, trying to fight the smile from emerging on your lips. “Or else I’ll find someone else to warm my bed.”

Lucien stiffens, holding you tighter against him as if readying to fight off anyone who dares to draw near. With his hand on your chin, he lifts your head to meet his gaze.

“What was that?” He speaks, something dangerous lingering in the depths of his words.

You raise your brow in challenge. “I said, if you keep leaving me I’ll find-“

He shuts you up with his lips on yours, but it’s a soft fragile thing. His lips move against yours like the back and forth of a waltz. Lucien pulls you tighter into his embrace, enveloping you in the scent of sandalwood, cinnamon, and smoke. You melt against him and think that you could stay like this forever, as long as you’re with him. You want to lay here even as the world cracks and burns around you, until the both of you are covered in ivy, moss, and memory.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Lucien deepens the kiss. Your lips willingly part for him and he licks into your mouth, eager for a taste. His hands are molten against your skin, kneading the pliant flesh of your hips from where your nightgown has ridden up. You can feel his chest expand as he inhales your scent as if reminding himself that you’re with him, in this moment, and there you will remain until your body gives out from the force of loving him.

Eventually, the two of you have to break the kiss. Just there, his forehead on yours, breathing the other in. Idly, you tap your finger over the freckles on his chest, parsing them like constellations in the night sky. You wonder what prophecies you’d be able to divine in the shapes they take. You press a kiss on the freckle over his beating heart, and Lucien shudders beneath your touch.

You move to the wealth of freckles spread across his cheek, over his nose, then on his chin. Lucien pretends to be preoccupied with the reports, but it’s a losing battle. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, and you plant a soft, chaste kiss at the upturned corner. You kiss him like he’s an object of worship, and only your heart, your body, your whole being would be a worthy sacrifice.

“Is that the only thanks I get for being your sentient, walking furnace?” He teases, brow arched, but not unkindly. “Threats and a few kisses?” Beams of sunlight hit his face like a lattice of amber, accentuating his sharp features, and setting his russet eye ablaze. And it strikes you just how damn pretty he is, scars and all.

“I’d prefer it if my sentient furnace did not walk away at all,” you retort, raising your brow in turn.

“Ungrateful,” he teases, even as he begins to trail tender kisses over your neck. “You’re lucky I adore you, dearly.”

You huff, pretending his words haven’t set you aflame in a way only he can.

“I suppose,” you begin, tapping your finger over your chin. “I could be persuaded to thank you properly if you go back to bed with me.”

Lucien glances at the report and pretends to consider it for three whole seconds, before setting it down the table with finality. He smiles, as bright as the sun, beautiful, blinding, yours.

“Let's go then,” he says, as he easily carries you back to your room.

AN:

Hello! I’m new to this fandom & I’d love to hear your thoughts. 💙

i’ve been so obsessed with Lucien recently. I made art of him and I love how people kept mentioning his freckles so here is we are. + I hate the cold and had the thought that Lucien would be the perfect person to cuddle up to in winter.

[acourtofimagines]

He is a master piece 🥺

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

“y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[acourtofimagines]

SAY IT LOUDER!!!!!

It’s not right. At all. And I will fight for this Faerie.

Justice for Tamlin

I'm sorry but SJM's character assassination of Tamlin is criminal. You cannot make me believe that the same guy who:

-Buried a fae from another court with his own two hands

-Killed Lucien's brother and gave Lucien refuge

-Replaced Lucien's eye

-Provided for Feyre's family when their own father wouldn't

-Tried his best to give Feyre every comfort and freedom instead of what some other fae would do to a human in Prythian

-Got sick at the mere thought of having slaves

-Hated having to kill literal monsters because he doesn't like killing

-Sent Feyre home and took on her life debt for killing Andras so she would be safe from Amarantha

-Did not enforce rank in his court and treated his subjects and sentries as friends

-Only wanted to be a traveling minstrel and not high lord...

Etc etc is the same dude that allegedly killed the guards on duty when Feyre left, had a sentry whipped, beat Lucien, abused Feyre, intentionally sold out Rhys' mother and sister and got them killed, on and on....

Not to mention the fanon claims that he intentionally got her sisters kidnapped and turned because he thinks he owns Feyre. That 100% didn't happen. Come on SJM, what are you thinking here?? All of this just to make Rhys look better when Rhys is out here slaughtering innocents with no remorse, not ruling 2/3 of his court, allowing females to be abused, locking Nesta up and threatening to kill her, tormenting a male who has absolutely nothing left just for the fun of it.... I could list a ton more.

And this fandom just accepts this as fact and doesn't argue it because they worship the ground Rhys walks on. Make it make sense for me....

[acourtofimagines]

No he does not need a redemption arc. He needs a healing arc. And I swear if Sarah doesn’t give him one. I WILL!

leave Tamlin alone, MY GOD

Tamlin doesn't need a redemption arc. He's done enough good to make up for his past actions. Was he perfect? No. Did he handle his worries the right way? No. But, did he do basically the same things Feyre gets praised for, while he's hated for them? Yes. Has he shown he's a good person? Definitely.

Think about it. Tamlin saved Rhysand's life, even though he had every reason not to. Rhysand is Feyre's husband and partly responsible for the fall of Tamlin's court and the death of his family. Yet, Tamlin chose to show mercy. He also saved Feyre at the Hybern camp, sacrificing his role as a double agent and putting his life and his people's lives at risk. And let's not forget, he didn't sell out Nesta and Cassian's meeting with Eris to Beron, even though he could've gained from it.

No one is saying Tamlin is perfect. But calling him the worst isn't fair either. He has shown over and over that he can do good and that he has grown from his mistakes. Tamlin doesn't need a redemption arc because he's already proven his worth through his actions.

[acourtofimagines]

Hello, ok I know I haven’t posted much lately but I’m hoping to change that soon.

Bye Monday (hopefully) I will have the second book. Which will open up more characters to write for. I do have some stories that I haven’t finished writing yet. Will try to get them done snd up soon. I don't take requests.

To all those who have followed, read, shared, and commented appreciate it all!

[acourtofimagines]

🥺 any woman who would willing let this beautiful faerie go is an absolute fool.

Dream Come True

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: light swearing

Summary: When Elain rejects the mating bond, the High Lord of Autumn spares no sympathy for his youngest son (well… you know. Anyways.) Hosting a ball with all the most eligible maidens in the court, you are of course eligible and happy to attend, wishing from afar for so many years — but, you decide to take a different approach to hopefully win his heart.

SR’s Note: *sigh* this is my current favorite art for my favorite fox boy… did I stare at it for way too long? Maybe. Anyways, here’s the fic. Enjoy! xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Honestly, you couldn't understand what the fuck was wrong with the Archeron girl.

First of all, she was blessed enough to look the way she did -- not that you wanted to look just like her, you would thank the Mother every day and night for blessing you with such lovely parents of your own who'd only pass on their best genes to you. But, she didn't have to try so damn hard to catch the eye of every male in Prythian, just with the swoosh of her skirt or the toss of her hair over her shoulder.

It sure caught the eye of the youngest Vanserra.

Her mate.

Don't even begin with her newfound Cauldron-blessed gift, either. It seemed like everywhere she went, all that was talked about was, "Ooh! Elain, the seer" or "have you been seeing anything new?" blah blah blah, I mean really -- how much longer will we hyperfixate on this? On her? Long gone was talk of her younger sister, the one who literally saved the land from Hybern's hand. You wondered if she ever grew as tired of her sister's attention as you did, not that you knew the Cursebreaker personally.

However, none of it mattered the 28th night of September. You'd been working that evening in the Autumn Palace, completing the tasks assigned as the Lady of Autumn's first assistant when you heard probably the best rumors to ever grace your ears. Beron had been passing you in the hall with his oldest son Eris, and you spared both of them a nod as they passed. Eris returned the small smile, having known you for years, but you didn't expect much from his father, knowing how cruel he was even with his own wife. You also didn't expect to hear the conversation they were having, but you slowed your pace as they continued in the opposite direction down the corridor from you.

"The girl said she wanted the bond broken," Beron muttered in a menacing tone. Eris sighed, and your breath hitched.

"What do you think Lucien-" Eris started.

"I'm not asking Lucien what he thinks. We won't deal with some ignorant wench who doesn't know what she wants. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to deal with him, but I won't deal with the scandal of him going unmated..." Beron's cruel tone fades as the pair rounds the corner of the corridor, and you brace yourself on one of the credenzas along the wall for a moment. Elain wants to break the bond? There's no way. You look up, eyes catching on your reflection in the dimly lit mirror hung on the wall. Was she really so unhappy that she would ask to break something so sacred, with someone as special as Lucien?

You took a steadying breath, forcing your feet to keep carrying you and your completed task sheet to the Lady of Autumn's office. You could barely focus; what was Lucien going to do? How was he feeling? You remembered all of the times you'd stolen glances at him, all the memories of hearing his warm but rare laugher through these very halls with his brothers over the years. He wasn't around as much anymore, but that didn't stop the desire that still warmed your heart at the thought of him.

"Thank you for your assistance, Y/N," the Lady of Autumn's voice was a warm caress as you laid down the task sheet upon her desk. "You're free to go for the evening."

With a nod you made for the door, but instead of heading for the front of the palace, you made way for the back stairwell, one that led to the private bedrooms. You knew your way around this place as you'd worked here for years, becoming rather close with the family and the boys that lived here. You counted the doors: one, two, three on the right side, and gave the third door a soft knock. Within moments, it was unlatched and a familiar pair of mahogany eyes met yours.

"Oh... hello, Y/N," Eris steps back, allowing you into his room before his father caught on somehow that you were still here. You silently slipped inside, as you'd done so many times before and taken a seat on the edge of his mattress. He perched near the top by his pillows, and offerred a quizzical look. "What brings you-"

"I need to know. I need to know about Lucien." You cut in. Eris' face immediately softened in realization. You'd been in this position many a time, coming to Eris with your concerns about his brother and him confiding his own feelings in you. This is what drew the two of you so close and provided a friendship so precious you knew you had to keep secret, as Beron was unpredictable and could use it as a weapon in a time of his own need.

"Elain... she asked Helion today to break their bond. He told my father right after she'd requested it." His hand found yours, and you loosed a breath. Your heart constricted, only imagining what Lucien must be going through right now.

"And... and Lucien? Was he-" Eris only shakes his head. Your sadness turns to anger, and you yank your hand back. You rise from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth in his room as traitorous thoughts cloud your mind.

"So, he wasn't even there? He doesn't even know?" You say, voice rising in octave. Eris leans forward, pressing a forefinger to his lips and shushing you.

"Shhhh, he likely knows by now," he says soothingly. But it doesn't matter. You feel as though your rage is bubbling over like the milky substance of the Caldron.

"Yeah. You're right, he probably knows -- I'm sure it probably hurts pretty fuckin' bad when a cord inside of you just... just..." You're throwing your hands in the air, fists clenched and shaking. "...breaks right in half out of nowhere-" Eris is instantly on his feet, taking both of your wrists in his, eyes searching yours in all seriousness.

"Y/N." He says solemnly. "You have to calm down. Someone is going to hear you, okay?" He says calmly. Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands still grip your wrists mid-air. He lets go, moving one hand to brush the stray hairs sticking to your face behind your ear, clinging to your forehead with the sweat you've worked up. "Just, take a deep breath, okay? I'm not too keen on it either, but this isn't my situation to have an opinion on, alright? We have to try and remember that."

You take his words into consideration, wiping your perspirating hands on your smock and breathing deeply. He takes a step back from you, allowing you your space and returning to sit on the bed. You follow, rubbing your hands over your face in defeat.

"My father doesn't want this to be a big thing," he continues, and you move your hands to look at him. He peers at the patch of bedsheets between the two of you, appearing to zone out as he continues. "He thinks if he finds someone else for Lucien quickly, the whole bond "thing" won't cause too much talk and Lu will be able to get over it faster or something." You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"That's the most rediculous thing I've ever heard." You say.

"I know." He replies. You shake your head, biting your bottom lip.

"What's he planning to do? Line someone up for Lucien to wed instead?" You ask. You really don't want to know the answer -- hearing he had a mate was already heart-wrenching enough, now hearing he would be betrothed to another would be even worse.

"He's planning to have a courting ceremony in two days, in the palace," he says. You perk up.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," he continues, eyes sliding to yours with a mischevious grin. "Now, don't get your hopes up, but he's only inviting the most eligible maidens and High Fae to attend, but anyone in attendance would technically have the right to Lucien's hand, if he accepts it. I've known a sly fox like you long enough that-"

"You know I'll find a way in." You finish. He chuckles.

"You also have to get him to say yes." You heart sinks a little. With Eris, its always been so easy -- the conversations, the getting along, the understanding. But, you started working here not too long before Lucien was on his way out the door. You could only pray you would be able to talk to him the same as his brother.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. I'm sure when Lu sees how charming you can be, he'd be stupid not to take your hand." Eris flashes an award-winning smile, and you can't help but feel hopeful by his tone.

You only hope you can pull this off without a hitch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

The deep violet dress you wore clung to every curve, the soft fabric scrunching in all the right places as it brushed the against your legs and drug along the leaf-littered ground behind you. You'd allowed your hair out of your usual braid for tonight, the long wavy tendrils sweeping down your exposed back, locks illuminated by the moonlight. You had to admit, you did appreciate the way you looked when you put in some effort -- you'd do it everyday, only for him.

"Y/N," Eris' soft whisper-shout echoes from the illuminated doorway as you round the corner of the palace, just where you'd arranged to meet. Turns out, sneaking into the ball was a lot easier than you'd thought; Beron was too busy in the throne room to pay any mind to where his oldest son was, which of course, was helping you enter through one of the unguarded back entrances.

"Wow," he breathes, pulling the heavy door closed and ushering you inside. "You're a vision." You blush, swatting his arm.

"Well, while I appreciate the compliment," you state. "Let's hope your brother reciprocates the sentiment."

Eris chuckles. "He would be a damned fool not to." You followed closely behind him as he led you down corridor after corridor, some unfamiliar at first as he peered around the corners before leading you down the halls. The sound of people talking rang out, and you heard the approaching throne room, recognising more of your surroundings. You placed a hand on Eris' arm, the fabric of his ornate jacket rough under your touch.

"You go in first," you say.

"Are you sure?" He asks, a tender look in your friend's eye.

You give him a knowing look. "Yes, your father would be suspicious if we walk in together." He nods, opening the doors a slit and slipping inside. You take a deep breath, wringing your hands and grounding yourself once more. You were finally going to have a chance, a chance to see him again tonight - and try your very best to not mess this all up.

Opening the door, you inch inside, hoping to not catch the eye of Beron or the Lady of Autumn -- youwere, after all, not "technically" invited to this thing after all. Luckily, you'd waited long enough that their attention had drifted back to the dancefloor and Eris had made it to their side by now, and only he was looking to you as you slid along the wall noiselessly blending in with the crowd.

Your gaze searched the scene, looking for a certain redhead. Of course, Eris stood out among the crowd of beautiful maidens, all adorning lovely full gowns and makeup much more extravagant than your own. Guess you didn't get the memo. Nonetheless, you see a few of Lucien's brothers making their rounds as well, girls shamelessly flirting with them too. However, the Vanserra you were seeking was nowhere to be found.

That is, until a few moments later when Beron rose and cleared his throat.

"Good evening to everyone," he began and the room quieted. You slunk deeper into the shadows, trying to remain hidden as he peered out into the crowd.

"Thank you all for attending this rather, special, evening," he chuckles. Eris rolls his eyes at his father's indecency. You can't help but do the same as a few girls near you giggle in excitement.

"I would like to present my son of the evening, the most eligible and willing bachelor, Lucien Vanserra," he says. Lucien stalks out from the entrance beyond the thrones, and many of the ladies in the room gasp and giggle. You can't help but widen your eyes at his presence. You had to admit, his beauty was incomparable.

"Allow the ball to commence!" Beron ends his stupid announcement with that, and Lucien's stoic expression has your gaze dropping, remembering how hard this must be from him. Women all around are fluttering about, some gossiping, some flanking his side immediately -- Gods, that must be so suffocating. Your gaze meets Eris', and he tosses you a wink, motioning with his hands in a way that indictates give him some time. You then watch him glance at the incessant ladies pouncing on Lucien, and see him grimace and shake his head. You giggle, and head for the table of treats along the wall. If you have to wait your time, that's fine -- you'd been playing the long game for this long anyways, what was a few more hours?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Yes, you'd been crushing from afar for so long -- but now that you shared air, it was a lot harder to stay on a long leash.

Watching him share dance after dance with beautiful fae after beautiful fae was... well, hurtful. You knew what you wanted, well... what you damn near needed, but you also knew that you needed to wait for the right moment.

What did you have that these ladies didn't?

All night, you looked around, comparing -- they were gorgeous, all High Fae, all much more glamorous than you. But, did they know him? No. Did they have much of a personality, or were they just here in hopes of being married off to the High Lord's newly-available son?

You needed to take the different approach.

And, hiding out by the food tables would not get you noticed.

You knew by the look on Lucien's face that he was getting tired of dancing the same dance, over and over and over. Having the same conversations, over. And over. And over. Sooner or later, he'd need an escape, and you knew this place like the back of your hand.

So where would he go?

You slipped outside, to the vast expanse of the private balcony off the throne room and rested your arms on the marble railing. Eris didn't miss your exit, suggesting to his brother a breath of fresh air, which he was happy to oblige in. You would have to remember to thank him later.

"Uhh, miss? This is a private balcony-"

You turn, hair brushing over your shoulder with the movement. Your eyes meet his, and heat floods your cheeks at the realization that the moment has finally come. The moonlight illuminates every russet freckle on his skin, the color matching his iris as his eyes widen in his own realization.

"Y/N?" He whispers, taking a tentative step toward you. You crack a half smile. You shrug your shoulders.

"In the flesh."

He walks quickly over to you, gasping and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in so tight, and your arms wrap around his neck. He laughs against your neck, the sound as light and magnificent as the stars above. You inhale deep, his scent of amber and sunshine warming you to the core.

"I can't believe this, I... I haven't seen you in forever, I mean... how... wait, how are you here?" He chuckles again, releasing you. You wish he would hold you forever, but you pull back to look at him. He's still smiling down at you, a mere foot from you now, his hands still resting on the small of your waist.

"Well... you know I would never be invited to this sort of thing but... I've never exactly played by the rules." You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes, laughing heartly once more. He inhales fully and lets it go, gazing once more at you.

"Ohhhh, Y/N, it sure is good to see you again. And no, you never have played by any kind of rules," he shakes his head, and you register your hands still softly bracing his biceps. You grin up at him, and he seems to realize the intimacy at the same time you do. He releases you in that moment, moving to the balcony and loosing a breath, looking out at the Autumn Court beyond. You move to stand next to him, feeling his body heat even from a few feet away.

"Can you believe my dad would do such a rediculous thing like this?" He asks after a few beats of silence. You chew your lip, sneaking a glance at him. His jaw is tight as he continues to look straight ahead.

"Honestly... yeah. He is... he is somethin'." You say. Lucien turns, facing you once more.

"Has he gotten worse since I left?" He asks. You think for a moment, and his eyes search yours.

"I mean... I don't know. I talk more with your mom. He's still, well, cruel, not with me in particular, but with just everyone, I guess." He swears under his breath.

"I should have never left." He says. You place a hand over his and he glances down at it, then back out at the court, swallowing thickly. "None of this would have ever happened. I would have never met Elain. It never would have gotten worse here. I would have never-"

"Hey hey hey, don't say that," you say. He gazes at you again. You smile kindly at him. "We're all okay here -- the only thing that got worse was how much we all missed you." You trace a vein atop his hand and he breathes in deep, eyes fluttering down, then back up to yours, growing darker. "Well... how much I missed you, anyways."

He smiles softly. "Is that so?" He says quietly, and you nod.

"And... Elain is... so... so blind for not seeing the amazing man she's missing out on..." you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, and he slides his empty hand to your hip, pulling you close. He pulls you so close that you're sharing a breath as he practically whispers the next words into your mouth.

"Honestly... I might be glad she broke the bond. She is nothing compared to what I've been missing out on."

His lips press to yours, and you can only feel a rush of golden fireworks inside as his fingers brush through your hair, moving to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek. His lips move, kissing you sesually as your hands hold onto his shoulders, finally reveling in the moment you'd only dreamed would come true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

[acourtofimagines]

SAY IT LOUDER! Now I do love Rhys, but I also have a soft spot for Tamlin.

Yes he handled things badly but no one ever takes into thought the he was suffering too and he truly didn’t understand or see how he was acting. In his mind he was protecting the woman he loved. And my heart breaks for him. Pleaee Sarah, give him a healing arc!

You know Tamlin doesn’t get enough credit. He tried to change for the better now that he understood how he was unintentionally treating Feyre. He listened and even when it was tough gave her space. He didn’t even try to force her into being intimate when she was back at the manor.

And (the important part I swear to God) after everything Feyre did to him, after losing everything, when he saw Rhysand dead he brought him back to life and told Feyre he wished for her to be happy. I bet everything that if put in that same situation that Rhysand wouldn’t do the same.

Tamlin had every reason not to. To leave Rhysand and Feyre there or even kill her then and there. He had literally nothing to lose if attacked for his actions. But he didn’t. And this will always be my main reasons why I prefer Tamlin instead of Rhysand.

[acourtofimagines]

I love him so much! 🥺

Settled Nerves

Lucien Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N and Lucien had been together for nearly one hundred years and he comes home after discovering that Elain is his mate.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

With a flick of her wrist, Y/N opened the oven and pulled out a fresh batch of cookies. She breathes in the familiar scent and places them on the countertop. Lucien was late coming home and she was worried about him. It was over an hour later from the time he said he would be home.

The cookies were hot as Y/N stacked them on top of a plate and placed them in the middle of the kitchen table. Y/N glanced at the clock and bit her lip. Her worry was slowly beginning to increase.

Y/N and Lucien had been together for nearly a century. However, for the fifty years Amaranta was in power, Lucien had told Y/N to stay away for her safety. So for fifty years, Y/N hadn’t seen Lucien or even heard from him. When he finally showed up on her doorstep, the fox mask gone from his beautiful face, Y/N thought it was a dream. The first thing Y/N did was punch him in the arm.

Now as she sat and waited, her leg bouncing up and down, Y/N wanted nothing more than Lucien to walk through the door. He always wanted to keep Y/N away from anything that could endanger her. While growing up, Y/N had come from a family of farmers and wasn’t trained to fight. When she met Lucien, he taught her basic moves to save herself if it ever came to it but nothing more.

The front door opened and Y/N immediately got to her feet. Lucien stepped into the small house and Y/N launched herself into his arms. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and held onto him tightly. Lucien’s arms wrapped around her waist and held her just as tight. It was as if he were afraid she would disappear.

“I was so worried something happened when you didn’t come back,” Y/N mumbled into his hair.

Lucien didn’t reply as he pulled away. His arms remained around Y/N but there was a distant look in his eye.

Y/N smoothed his hair down. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Lucien’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the words. They were stuck on the tip of his tongue.

“I found my mate,” Lucien said finally, ripping off the bandage.

Y/N stilled her movements. “Oh.”

With slow movements, Y/N stepped away from Lucien, keeping a small distance between them.

At Lucien’s reveal, Y/N’s heart plummeted in her chest. She felt as if she had been stabbed. Y/N always knew that there was a possibility Lucien would find his mate but selfishly she hoped that he never would.

“What will you do?” Y/N finally asked.

“I—“

“If you want, you can go to them,” Y/N said even though it physically hurt her to say. “I knew that this day might come eventually but, forgive me for being selfish, I really hoped that it wouldn’t.”

“Y/N—“

“I won’t blame you if you do leave,” Y/N said, pacing the room. “She is your mate, it is only right.”

“Y/N!” Lucien said, now standing in front of her.

Y/N stopped her rambling and her pacing and looked up at Lucien. He cupped her cheeks and his thumbs gently rubbed her tears away.

“What?” Y/N whispered.

“I don’t want my mate,” Lucien said.

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked at Lucien. “Are you sure?”

“Why would I want her when you are standing in front of me?” Lucien said, resting his forehead against hers. “The most perfect female I have ever seen.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her hands clutching his wrists. “But she is your mate. The two of you were made for one another.”

“I don’t care,” Lucien said softly. “She wasn’t the one who took care of me when Amarantha carved out my eye. You didn’t shy away from me, you never even left my side when I told you to leave.”

Y/N clutched his wrists a little tighter.

“You are the one who is always there for me,” Lucien said with a brush of his lips against Y/N’s.

“I don’t care about my mate. I don’t care that she was apparently made for me. You are the one I love. You are the one I will always love for my entire life,” Lucien pulled Y/N’s body against his. “She might be my mate, Y/N. But you are the one I choose. You are the one I will always choose.”

Y/N pulled Lucien close to her and cried into his shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“I love you too,” Lucien said, hugging her close.

The two stood wrapped in each other’s arms for a while longer. Y/N was the first to pull away to rest her forehead against Lucien’s once more.

“If I ever meet my mate, I will choose you over them,” Y/N said. “You are the love of my life. I will love you forever, Lucien.”

Lucien pressed his lips against Y/N’s and the two melted into one another. Every time Y/N kissed Lucien it always felt like it was the first time. Lucien kissed her sweetly and full of love, his arms wrapping around her and pressed his entire body against hers.

Y/N smiled into the kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. There was no one else who Y/N would ever love as much as she loved Lucien. From the first time she met him, she knew that she would love him. From the first time she kissed him, she knew that she would be with him forever.

Lucien pulled away. “I don’t care if I have a mate, Y/N. You are the only one I will ever care for and love. I cherish you and only you.” he mumbled against her lips.

Y/N smiled. “Lucien, I adore you.”

Y/N pressed her lips against Lucien’s in a quick kiss. “I don’t want you to go anywhere for a while. I just want to be selfish and keep you by my side.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lucien replied.

“Good,” Y/N smiled, pulling away from Lucien to grasp his hands. “Because I plan on making your night incredible.”

Lucien smirked. “Tell me more.”

“I will,” Y/N said. “But first we will eat the cookies I made because they are still warm and fresh.”

“There is a reason I love you,” Lucien said and allowed Y/N to push him down onto the couch.

“Only because I make cookies?” Y/N questioned while collecting the plate from the small kitchen table.

“And a lot of other reasons,” Lucien said, pulling Y/N down onto his lap.

Y/N smiled as Lucien pressed a kiss against her jaw and plucked a cookie from the plate.

[acourtofimagines]

Which is why with all my heart (and someone who knows how this abuse feels) I will defend my boys. These two have my heart and that will not change.

Examining Double Standards: Unraveling the Truth Behind Tamlin and Rhysand's Trauma

1. Age and Vulnerability : Tamlin was a teenager when Amarantha became obsessed with him, which underscores his vulnerability to manipulation and coercion. This vulnerability is often overlooked by those who criticize him for not resisting Amarantha's will.

2. Power Dynamics : Amarantha held immense power over Tamlin, both as a High Fae and as the ruler of the Spring Court. This power dynamic inherently skewed any notion of consent or resistance on Tamlin's part, making it unfair to judge him for not "bending to her will."

3. Complexity of Trauma : Rhysand's actions while under Amarantha's control are often scrutinized, but it's crucial to recognize that trauma responses are complex and nuanced. Rhysand's experiences cannot be reduced to mere "whoring"; he was a victim of abuse and manipulation, and his actions were a survival mechanism in an incredibly hostile environment.

4. Minimizing Trauma : Criticizing Tamlin for not resisting Amarantha's advances while simultaneously downplaying Rhysand's trauma perpetuates a harmful double standard. It minimizes the severity of both characters' experiences and fails to acknowledge the complexities of trauma and survival.

5. Understanding Vulnerability : Instead of blaming victims for their perceived weaknesses, it's important to understand the context of their experiences and the dynamics of power and control at play. Both Tamlin and Rhysand were victims of manipulation and abuse, and their responses to trauma should be met with empathy and understanding, rather than judgment.

[acourtofimagines]

Oh my Rhys heart can’t take the cuteness 😭💜

Umbrella

Rhysand x Fem Reader

A/N I got splashed twice; First by a truck driving through a puddle and then a car did it later on my walk to the train a few days ago, so I needed to put my feelings somewhere.

Summary: You didn't want to leave the comfort of your bed. But the shop needed to be opened. You didn't expect the rain or a speeding cart to run through a large puddle drenching you. Your High Lord finds you on the verge of tears he makes sure to brighten your gloomy day.

Content warning: mild cursing, slight feelings of failure and insecurity

One drop became two, then in a blink of an eye, the sky opened and unleashed a downpour that had you not had your umbrella would have had you drenched in seconds. You knew you shouldn't have left the warmth of your bed or your mate this morning. But the bookshop wasn't going to open itself.

Cassian had offered to fly you to work, but you insisted on walking. Something you enjoyed doing for centuries. He had insisted you bring the umbrella despite the sun rising and a few clouds in view. To appease him, you did, and you were thankful for listening to the general, though you would deny if anyone asked.

The wind whipping against your face made it difficult to walk, this being a more violent storm than Velaris had seen in a while. You stood at the corner of the city about to cross when a cart at full speed barreled down the road. You saw the wheel collide with the deep puddle, watched the water become airborne over your head, and the cold water colliding violently against your body. Your mouth fell open, umbrella still upright as you kept moving, not fully comprehending the events that took place.

By the time you reached your shop, the cold water had seeped through your clothes and provided you with a chill you couldn't escape from. This was not how you wanted to start your day. You swallowed down the tears that kept threatening to fall as you opened the door to your bookstore. Making a beeline to the hearth to start a fire. In hopes you could at least dry the sweater you wore. You held on to hope that the rain would bring in customers who want to cozy up with a book on the gloomy day.

☂️☂️☂️

The hours ticked by as the rain continued to pattern against the windows behind you. The store was quiet, not one person wandered in, either for shelter or to shop. You leaned your head on the counter. The feeling that had been bubbling to the surface for months beginning to consume you:

Failure

Rhysand insisted he buy you this store. "Darling, let me help you make your dreams a reality," he had said as he handed the keys to you and closed your fingers around them. "Go on, my Little Dreamer. Let's go see your new store."

Guilt creeps up to your throat. Your grand opening consisted of the Inner Circle. Azriel bought a few books for himself and one he thought Nesta would enjoy. You hadn't had the heart to tell him that she had that book already.

Rhys was beaming as he looked at the tomes amongst Aisles. His fingers grazing amongst the titles. You could see pride as he wandered every aisle.

A look you now dreaded every time you walked into a family dinner and someone asked you about your shop. You always danced around the answer.

Ding

Your head perked up as the bell from the door chimed, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. Familiar black hair and and tan skin was shaking off his umbrella before leaning it against the side of the wall. Rhysand's smile bloomed on his face causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Even after all these years his beauty still took your breath away. "Hello, Darling." He smiled walked around the counter and pulling you close. His brows furrowed as he noticed your damp clothes. "You're drenched, Love." He turned and noticed the clothes in front of the fireplace, facing you once more his thumb began to idly swipe against your hip.

You sighed, and averted his gaze, "I was splashed by a cart on the way here." You shifted under his touch, "I didn't have enough time to react."

Rhysand hummed, and you glanced over at him and noticed him staring out the window. He smirked, "Close the shop." It wasn't a question.

"Excuse me?" You tilted your head as his violet eyes met yours stars twinkling in his eyes and something, playful.

"Close the shop. Your mate wants to spend the day with you." You opened your mouth and he kissed the corner of your mouth, "No one is right now and all the stores around are closing early today."

You tugged the bottom of your lip behind your teeth. Debating whether or not you could afford to have the store closed. Rhys' eyes turned pleading and he even jutted out his bottom lip that sealed that swayed you. "Okay."

Rhys smiled and slid his hands, to yours. "Great!" And he pulled you away from your counter and headed out side leaving behind his umbrella. You were quick to grab opening it as Rhys ran to the middle of the street releasing your hands. His arms spread out against "Rhysand, what are you doing?" You shrieked as he began to laugh. "You're getting soaked!"

"I can't let you be alone in being soaked to the bone can I?" He lifted his head to the sky and smiled as the water coated the male's skin. You watched him in awe and wondered how often he did this when you didn't noticed, especially after returning from being with Amarantha. His violet eyes bright and twinkling, "Come dance with me." He held out his hand and slightly bowed.

You shook your head, "I should get back inside."

Darling, Rhysand spoke in your mind, Are you really going to deny your High Lord a dance with his Lady? He quirked a brow and you rolled your eyes.

You're insufferable. You thought to him as you closed the Umbrella and ran to him. The minute you were within his reach he lifted you up off the ground and you began to laugh. Once he put you down he gripped your waist, his hands lacing with yours the two of you began to sway. No words needed to be said he just held you and began to dance in the middle of the street. The two of you began to laugh and he spun you out, and when he spun you back, his chest pressing against your back, he kissed your cheek. He held you close and your eyes closed leaning your head against your shoulder. You didn't mind as the rain trickled against your skin.

You're a vision, My Love. Rhysand spoke in your mind. You hummed and Rhys continued to lead into more dances until exhaustion befell on both of you.

☂️☂️☂️

Rhys had brought you some dry clothes as if he suspected you needed them. You smiled as you found he packed his sweater that was your favorite to wear with some shorts. Rhys was sitting by the fire in the book store when you walked in with dry clothes, clean thanks to Rhys' magic. "Feel better?" he asked as you crawled into his lap.

"Always with you, My Love." You paused and threaded your fingers through his hair. He purred at the touch closing his eyes as you continued. "I thought you and Cassian were heading to Windhaven for meetings."

"Devlon cancelled, he didn't want the rain and the wind to mess up his hair." Rhysand joked as he creaked his eyes open.

I frowned and straightened my posture, "Rhysand."

Rhysand opened his eyes and his hand rubbing your back in a soothing manner. "You are more important, Darling."

You shook your head, pushing away as far as his arms would let you, which was not far at all. "Rhysand, you shouldn't have. I got wet. You're High Lord you have responsibilities. I'm-

"My mate," he finished, leaning up to kiss your nose. "You come first. You will always come first." He gripped your hand, placing it over your heart, "Especially when she opened up the bond, and her sadness was so palpable I fell to my knees in agonizing pain. Then Azriel told me that his shadows witnessed what happened. You needed me. I'm here." And that was the end of it. He wasn't willing to budge his priorities, not when it came to you.

You leaned back into his embrace head on his shoulder as he leaned his own on top of yours. The two of you sat in silence. "It wasn't just about the rain today, was it?" His voice was soft and gentle."

"No, it wasn't." Your voice laced with exhaustion.

He kissed your head. "We'll talk about it more in the morning. Right now, I want you to sleep. I'll be here when you wake." He kissed the side of your head as your eyes drooped closed. "I love you, Darling."

You yawned, "And I you, Rhys."

A few weeks later ☂️

The sun illuminated the store, and you were grateful as swarms of people were scouring for books, looking for new adventures to take. You and Rhysand talked for hours on what was needed to turn business around and turned out his frequent visits helped. Everyone wanted to shop where the High Lord did.You took a minute from helping a customer to smile, down one of the Aisles Rhysand stood an apron around his hips helping a customer find a book. His eyes glittered, and his smile brought her customers at ease. He insisted that if he was coming to the shop, he would be on the floor assisting but never missed a chance to glance your way with a playful wink.

You were a lucky female to have a caring, loving, and passionate Mate. Your best friend. Your High Lord.

And he loved his wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Book Shop owner.

Fin.

[acourtofimagines]

This is beautiful! Guys read it!

Unsettled (pt. 1)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: None, actually hahahaha (yet, just you wait)

Warnings: None!

Summary: You go to Tamlin’s estate to make a delivery but instead, run into someone else. The unexpected happens and you’re left feeling… unsettled.

SR’s Note: I’m actually really liking where this is going, will probably have multiple parts!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

For those who dwell in courts outside that of the Spring court, the first thing you'd learn to get used to is the pollen. Amid the pleasantries that the court offered -- the aromas of the peonies in the spring season, the florals always in bloom, the billowing gardens across the lands -- one thing that a non-native might learn to get used to is all of the pollen invading your senses, especially in the springtime.

It wouldn't help that the pollen was always being stirred up, never settling too long. There was always something happening, something to do, or something to be done in the Spring court, which caused a lot of hustle and bustle for those who dwelled in and around the estate of the High Lord and his few trustees.

You'd been near the estate a few times; one time in particular, you actually entered the grounds. You'd only gone to deliver floral arrangements before Calanmai, a courtesy of your parent's shop in the court's square. It was the last stop on your route, and one that you had saved for last on purpose.

"Go to the estate first", your mother told you earlier that morning, as she secured the last of the floral arrangements in the small cart being towed by the proud, white mare before you. "We want Lord Tamlin receiving the freshest flowers from our shop; you can stop by the rest of the families on your way back." You nodded, slinging a leg over your horse, and preparing for the ride to the "estate", knowing you'd venture to every other home before arriving at those massive, iron gates.

But here you are. The gates before you, the yellow pollen wafting by in the breeze and infiltrating your nose. It almost makes you sneeze, but you hold back, and instead awkwardly raise a fist to... knock? Within seconds, the gates slowly drift open, the iron creaking as they beckon you in.

The pale stones clop clop clop under your horse's hooves, the sound steady and unmatched to the racing of your heart. Before you know it, you are on the staircase to the estate, and you feel as though you weigh the amount of a piano as you force yourself off your mare once more.

One step. Two. Three. Fifteen. You're almost to the top of the staircase, a floral wreath in one hand and a vase of peonies in the other. You have seen Tamlin before, of course; but have you spoken to him? What if you seem a fool? He is a High Lord. You curse your mother under your breath for making you come out here alone and deliver these. You also notice the lack of spring breeze, as a drop of sweat slides down the back of your neck beneath your braid and rolls below the collar of your blouse. It feels as if even the folds of your flowing skirt are sticking to your legs-

"How did you get past the front gate?"

You freeze, no breeze needed to feel the ice filling your veins. The firm voice sounded from behind you, but all you can do is stand perfectly still, too scared to turn around. What if it is Tamlin? What if he is angry with you for entering his home without permission?

Whoever is behind you huffs a laugh and speaks again. "You cannot make me believe you are a statue now; I've already seen you moving just moments ago."

Your brows narrow, and you shake your head, glancing down at the vase in your hand. Does this guy think you're an idiot? Obviously, you're a real person... you won't have any of this.

You turn on the ball of your foot, your boot scuffing on the stone stair beneath. Dramatically, the skirt that was not stuck to your legs whooshes around you too, and you finally get a good look at whoever is interrogating and ridiculing you.

You almost wish you had pretended to be a statue.

A tall, tanned-skin man with flaming red locks is peering up at you from the first step, arms crossed across his broad chest. The emerald green tunic he is sporting is a stark contrast to the copper strands, making them stand out even more. What also stands out is the pointed ears protruding slightly beyond those luscious locks. He is High Fae.

You know what you should do, what you’d do in the presence of any High Fae: bow, apologize, explain yourself. Any of the above? All of the above? But... instead, you begin your descent down the stairs. Water sloshes out of the vase you're holding, but you don't care.

One step. Two. Five.

You're stomping now, face heating in anger with each step you take.

Ten. Fourteen.

You come face to face with the High Fae male who you're ready to berate, but when you come to the bottom step, you're close enough to take him in more up close. One of his eyes is of russet, but gleaming with flecks of amber in hues that complement his hair. The other is golden and mechanical, a scar running from above his eyebrow through it and down to his cheekbone. A light scruff dusts the lower half of his face, and as you draw nearer, he only scowls more at you.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, so I'll ask you again -- How. Did. You. Get. Past. The front. Gate?" He punctuates each word as if he is speaking to a child, which only causes your disdain to return. Finally, you open your mouth to speak.

"Maybe I should ask you the same thing. This is the High Lord's manor, isn't it? And you aren't him." His frown turns into a snort, and he shakes his head at you. You don't allow his reaction to rattle you; you keep your stare firm.

"Glad to know you can speak," he begins. He steps off the first step, walking backwards and gesturing to the estate. "...and that you are aware who Tamlin is! Bravo." He bows at the waist in mockery, and you allow a small growl to escape your throat. He only chuckles in response, straightening and flicking his gaze back to you, seeming to only just notice the wreath and vase you are holding.

"What's with the romantic gesture? Planning to ask him for an evening with you?" He taunts. You take the last step down, your feet finally landing on the ground again. It isn't only your feet that land on the ground, but you feel grounded again inside. The red hair. The cocky attitude. The familiar ambience. Why couldn't you see it before? He is one of the Vanserra boys. He's practically screaming Beron. Anything to do with the Autumn court or that family, you want none of.

You bring yourself out of your thoughts, and back to reality. One foot in front of another, you walk right up to him, so close you can see every speck of pollen on his tunic. It has all settled atop the green fabric.

You shove the vase and wreath into his chest, catching him off guard. A few of the slightly wilted peony petals flutter to the ground, and the pollen on his jacket scatters up into the air around you. He takes a half step back to steady himself, eyes widening down at you. His mouth opens, a stunned look on his face, but before you let him spew anymore bullshit, you speak first.

"I don't need to bring flowers to anybody who has someone like you already living with them." You flash him a sarcastic smile and shrug your shoulders. Since the beginning of the interaction, he doesn't bark a retort or bite back at you. He just stands there, gawking at you.

The small feeling of victory against this newfound stranger swells inside as you stride over to your horse, tossing your braid over your shoulder and hopping up on it. You don't even spare a look back as you begin riding to the front of the grounds, though you want to. You want to see the smug look on that Vanserra's face; him standing there, finally looking silly after poking at you — someone he didn't even know! He is High Fae too … what a bad rap to start for someone of that stature, and from that lineage.

You might not have minded looking at him a bit longer, though. It was true that the arrogance was off-putting, but you had to admit, whoever he was, he was quite beautiful. Even with a stuffy pollen-covered tunic, he didn't look quite like anyone you'd ever seen before. He looked so, so much better.

The quiet, low pulling deep in your chest felt unsettling as you rode home in the afternoon sun. Why, and how could someone with such an attitude have such an effect on you? Because he was, what… attractive? It didn't matter, you'd get over it soon enough. You'd likely never see him again. You had no intent of visiting the estate ever again.

Yet, that feeling, the low and deep tugging, didn't subside.

✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2

[acourtofimagines]

Enchanted

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Pairing(s): Rhysand x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Every birthday girl makes a wish... yours has been the same for years. One you began to doubt would ever come true; but what happens when it does?

SR’s Note: I am honestly giggling and kicking my feet over this one, and lately Rhys hasn't even been my favorite... I don't care. I like how this turned out. Based on Enchanted by Taylor Swift, of course. Enjoy (:

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Everything about the final day of Autumn was as it usually was; the cool sun bathing the Velaris cobblestone in light, the crisp breeze ruffling your hair, causing you to pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. Even the townsfolk presented the same familiar faces you’d seen nearly every day now on your way to the public library.

Today was a treat; the day before your birthday, of course. The first day of the Winter season would mark the day of your birth, and usually you’d spend the day before spoiling yourself as you’d usually end up having to work on said birthday. This year, it was no different.

That is, before two large Illyrian warriors donning seven gleaming siphons each landed right in the middle of the square, their enormous bat wings spread wide. The townspeople, as well as yourself, whirled in shock at the sight. After straightening, the taller one (Cassian? You thought?) cleared his throat.

“Greetings, Velaris,” he said, voice echoing down every corridor and alleyway around you. Every wide-eyed fae stared back in awe as he looked from person to person.

“As you know, the High Lord will be having his annual Winter Ball tomorrow evening,” he continued. You’d known; it was an annual tradition. One you’d always ended up working as the bakery your parents owned supplied the delicacies for the event.

“…andddd this year, the High Lord has made it very clear that the celebration is to be extended.” He coughs. Gasps and murmurs begin around you, and you glance side to side as chatter begins.

“The ballroom cannot accommodate all of Velaris; so only a select few will be receiving invitations.” The spymaster calmly cuts in, and the chattering crowd around you stops. All eyes return to the pair in the middle of the street.

“The festivities are to be celebrated here in the city, though, should you not attend the ball,” Cassian fumbles. His brother raises his eyebrows, releasing a breath and gazing at the crowd once more.

“If you’re to be invited; you should expect to receive an invitation in your mailbox by this afternoon.”

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You practically jumped on the mail man when he approached your drive, scaring him half to death as his letters tumbled from his hands.

“I’m so sorry! I’m, um… just, really hoping something came for me today.” You laugh sheepishly as he thrusts a pile of letters into your hands.

“Yeah, you and every other female in Velaris.” He continues on his route with a hmmph, and you begin anxiously thumbing through the letters.

You almost trip when you finally make it back into your small flat, sitting at the kitchen table. Your hand shakes as you get to the last envelope in the pile, only one elegant word written across the front of it.

Y/N.

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“I don’t know if that’s the right… I don’t know, color?” Your best friend eyes you in the mirror, and you twist to one side, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Maybe not. I don’t know, it’s just not quite… right.” She says, the statement only a repetition of how your morning’s been going. You’ve spent the entire morning trying to find a gown for the ball tonight, but every single one you’ve tried just isn’t quite… the one.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and your friend / shop owner flits toward a wall of dresses, brushing through them once more.

“I feel like I’ve tried on a million,” you say. She returns just a moment later, a lovely steel silver gown in hand. You raise your brows at her.

“Yes, but, it’d be dress one million and one that might catch the High Lord’s attention.” You can’t help but blush, turning from her. It was no secret you found the High Lord of the Night Court quite intriguing; Gods, half of Prythian did.

She tsked at you and shooed you towards the dressing chamber, only for you to reappear a moment later in the gown. She didn’t hide back the gasp, or stunned expression on her face as you approached the mirror to look yourself.

“Oh come now, it can’t be…” But, it was. Seeing it in the reflection, you understood her reaction a little more. You were breathtaking; this one. It had to be this one.

You spend a good few minutes twirling, admiring the gown hugging you in all the right places. You finally glance down at the price tag, and your heart sinks. It was way too expensive.

“I don’t think I can…” You say. Your friend shakes her head, leading you back to the dressing room to change.

“Nonsense.” She says. You stare at her, a blank expression on your face.

“I can’t afford it.” You say. She only winks at you before shutting the chamber curtain, allowing you privacy.

“Consider it a birthday gift!”

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You'd never been to one of these before; not coming from a wealthy family, or even being High Fae yourself, there was never any reason to attend such an event held by Night Court royalty.

Yet, here you stood. In front of the polished black gate, separating you from the awaiting festivities inside.

"Uhh.. miss?" You turn, to see another guest had silently approached at your side. "Are you going in?"

You nod. "Yes! Yes, I'm sorry if I held you up-" He shakes his head, a small smile offerred to you as the gates open and he steps beyond. He looks over his shoulder to you.

"No worries... but, I think it's beginning soon?" You hear the groaning of the iron bars and quickly step inside, keeping in step with this new aquiantence. You politely converse until you've reached the main building, and females in lovely gowns pass by you. You nervously look around; maybe you should've prepared better for this.

"I'll see you around," with a small wave, your company stalks off toward a group of males he seems to know. You sigh, taking in the beauty around you. The gleaming faelights, all of the attendees meandering around you, the scent of jasmine in the air-

"I personally want to thank you all for your attendance tonight," you hear, and the room is instantly filled with silence. All eyes are peering toward the front of the room, and the crowd shuffles together to hear the speaker more clearly. You try and get a good look, but you can't really see over everyone's heads.

"I haven't had one of these events in a while where I get to invite our court's friends to join us, and as this marks the first night of Winter," the voice drawls. It sounds lovely, as though it was coming from a cello - deep and smooth. Not like the sounds from Azriel or Cassian, but this one was much different.

"...we are very happy you're all here. So, let the dancing commence!" And with that, the crowd is in a frenzy, chattering and partnering off for the first dance of the evening. Your cheeks heat in embarassment as you realize you have no one to dance with, and you recede towards the stone wall to hide in the shadows for this one. You feel a light hand on your elbow, and you whirl around to come face-to-face with the kind male from earlier.

"I don't have a partner either..." He says, his cheeks flushing rosey-pink. You give him a soft smile, your embarassment fading with every passing second.

"I'd love to dance with you." You slide your hand into his and pull him to the middle of the crowd, just as the music begins. His hand rests on your lower back, the cold metal ring on his finger sending a chill up your spine. You suck in a breath as he pulls you closer to his chest.

"Is this... alright?" He asks. You nod, resting your free hand on his shoulder. Now that you're close to him, you get a better view of his face; his sharp jaw, auburn freckles dusting over his nose. His sultry amber eyes that match the flaming locks upon his head; he truly is beautiful.

But not the reason you came tonight.

He engages in polite conversation as you continue the waltz, asking you about yourself, laughing and making light jokes with you inbetween the spinning and dipping as the music intensifies. You laugh with him, appreciating him more and more by the minute. When he's turned you around, his back to the dias at the head of the room, you swear you meet those violet eyes, staring right back at you. Maybe you're just thinking wishfully, maybe... maybe he is just looking at everyone, but he looked irritated, besides the sweet sentiment he'd made before.

You have to look away, your partner realizing you're staring.

"Is, everything okay?" He politely asks you. You nod, reassuring him everything was. But it wasn't. You were living in this moment; the music, the liveliness of the room, the way you were pushed so close with this male's hand on your waist-

But it still wasn't who you wanted.

You wanted him.

His hands on you. Your body against him. His eyes looking into yours.

You felt like a fool for thinking that coming here would change anything for you.

"I, uhm," your partner fumbles for words to distract you. "I didn't catch your name?" He asks. You meet his gaze, smiling again at him. You knew the High Lord wouldn't need or want you, so you may as well make the most of your night while it lasts.

"Y/N," you reply. He grins.

"What a lovely name," he tucks a flyaway tendril of hair behind your ear, eyes catching when it is exposed. He immediately sees it is rounded; and shame courses through you again as you know he is High Fae.

He clears his throat. "What a beautiful name," he reiterates. "...for a beautiful girl." You can't help but blush at his words, this male is laying the flirting on you thick. Doing quite well at that, too.

"Why thank you," you say, voice feeling small. You didn't register that the song had already changed, your bodies abseltmindedly falling into rhythm as you continue to sway with the music.

"I should probably relieve you from me," he says, dipping his head and huffing a small smirk. "Had I known who you were, I would have let you dance with someone else. I'm sure Rhys will have my ass for this anyway," he concludes. You furrow a brow, as the song engages in the final chorus.

"Whatever do you mean?" You ask. He opens his mouth to answer, but clapping erupts and conversations get too loud around you. What was he even talking about? You'd never met the High Lord, not officially, anyway. Maybe in passing, but there was nothing there.

Suddenly the room feels too small, too warm, his hand on your back feels like fire and you feel like you are sweating. You could pass out, you just needed a minute to breathe and get out of this crowded room.

"I have to um," you shout, over the loud conversing around you. "I need a breath of air!" You say. He nods, and pulls you close, hands still holding yours.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He politely asks. You lean back, meeting his eyes and shake your head.

"I'll be fine!" You say loudly. He nods, and you lean up and kiss his cheek. "I'll find you later?" You say, and he grins at you. What a cutie.

You search for an exit, clammy hands brushing the sides of your skirts. You find an open doorway, and travel down a side hall that leads to an unmarked door. Chest tight, you open it -- revealing the most wonderful sight you've ever seen.

You step out onto the stone terrace, walking all the way to the railed edge to get the best view. You let out a gasp; you can see all of Velaris from here. Soft music echoes from beyond, and you watch as a single shooting star stretches across the sky.

"This is, my favorite place to see the whole city too." You turn abruptly, not realizing someone had followed you. You stare in shock as Rhysand leans against the open doorway, arms folded, and one ankle crossed over the other. You immediately get embarassed again, remembering this is his building and his terrace and you were out here without permission-

"No need to worry, darling." He strides over to you, and you feel a tiny tickling inside your head. Your fingers brush your temple on instinct, and you remember that he could in fact see what you were thinking.

"Enjoying the ball?" He asks, his silky tenor causing your attempt to clear your mind to fail. You huff, turning back to the city beyond. He puts his hands on the balcony railing next to you, one hand nearly brushing yours.

"Oh! Um... yes. Yes I have been." Your mind flashes to the dances you'd shared with the readhead, how he held you, and how you'd wished it was Rhys the whole time...

Clear your mind, Cauldron! He could easily see what you were thinking.

"That's... great." His sudden clipped tone had you side-eyeing him. The night seemed to radiate off of him, the onyx crown atop his head gleaming in the moonlight. He was definately intimidating, but you remembered what your new friend said. Did you even catch his name? No. You were too focused on the High Lord, though this other man was nothing but nice to you.

Cauldron, boil you.

"Can I ask you something?" You say. He angles his head to you, a small smirk pulling the corner of his lips up.

"You'd like to know why I asked you here tonight?" He answers. You gape at him, and he chuckles, the sound like soft rain outside an open window.

"How did you-" You begin, and he turns to you, a hand tracing his knucles down the side of your face. You flush at the contact, as this was something you'd only ever hope for in a dream.

"This... is something we can work on later." He looks at the top of your head, the idea of mind shielding grazing your brain.

Has he been inside your head this whole time?

You almost feel violated; if it was anyone but him, you'd tell them to leave you be. But... you couldn't. He was finally here, with you -- but, you can't help from a little bit of your attitude peeking through.

"If you wanted me here so damn bad, whatever the reason may be," you start, pulling back an inch from his touch. His brows raise in amusement. "Why were you pouting about in there? I didn't even see you dance once." You finish. His gaze softens, and his free hand brushes yours on the railing. The hand that once grazed your cheek is now gliding down your arm, tracing over every inch of exposed skin.

"The partner I wanted was already taken." He answers lowly. You don't miss the way his eyes darken a bit, and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to try and stop from freaking out and dissolving into a puddle right then and there.

"Well..." You begin, taking one step closer to him. The soft scent of sea salt and nectarines graces your nose -- of course, one of your favorites. His gaze stays locked on you, drinking in every inch of you with his eyes.

"I'm not now." You say, as confidently as you can muster. His lips twist, trying to supress the huge smile he eventually allows to take over his face. You can't help but smile back; his gorgeous features only more enticing up close. His hand slips around the curve of your waist, pulling you in closer. Your breath catches, as his other hand guides your idle ones to his neck.

"I've waited much too long for this," he says. You are sure you look like a tomato; there was no way he was fawning over you like this. The way you'd done, every night in your room; every day in Velaris, constant reminders of him all over the city; every year when you'd use your bithday wish just to see him, just once -- and there he would be, waltzing into your parents shop before the ball as if he wasn't reducing you to mush each time.

"I'm not very good," he admits with a small laugh. You don't know what the hell comes over you, but you don't allow him enough time to read your mind before the words are spilling out-

"I don't need good. I need you." You take the lead, swaying to the distant music from the walls beyond and streets below, and he only follows. Its his turn to feel flattered, as his hands gently trail up and down your waist. You try your best to keep from shaking in excitement; but it isn't long before you see another star flying across the sky. He glances in your line of sight, grinning and letting one hand go of you. He takes the gleaming onyx crown off his head, replacing it atop yours, tucked behind the brained crown near the top.

You stare at him wide eyed as he pulls your body flush with his, leaning in to whisper, "I'm enchanted to finally meet you," as his soft lips lightly graze the shell of your ear. You can't help but let out a small chuckle, not knowing if you are going to cry or not. You could; you'd only wished for this very thing for years and years.

"You truly are a princess," he drawls on, fingers tracing your jaw lightly. His gaze flicks to the star trailing across the sky, and back to you once more. "One that still needs to make her birthday wish."

Your hands play with the soft hair near the nape of his neck, eyes loving the way he practically wills your mouth to his. It's like there is a thread, a rope connecting the two of you, and he is using his end to pull you closer, closer...

He finally kisses you, softly cupping your jaw as your hands slide down his chest. Pressed against him like this, that rope feels more like a threat tied so tight, golden aura coming from deep within you at the scene around you. He slowly pulls back, eyes searching yours for reassurance. You only reach up and swipe a tear away from his cheek, the new feeling connecting the two of you reassurance enough.

"I don't have one this year; it has already come true."

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[acourtofimagines]

This was too cute 😭

Mr. Ro...Mantic?

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Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warnings: fluff … ish?

Summary: When the High Lord of the Spring Court's best friend and emissary drags him to the Summer Solstice festival, he is anything but excited to go. In an attempt to restore his happiness, Lucien thinks this might be an opportunity for Tamlin to put himself out there again and get out of the Manor for once -- and thank the Cauldron, he did. It literally, could not have gone better.

SR’s Note: This is just kind of, um, cutesy? Idk. Enjoy!

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Lucien was sick, sick of watching his best friend mope around day in and day out around the Manor. It’d been months since everything happened; the war, everything with Hybern, Feyre…

“I’m perfectly fine.” He’d always snap whenever Lucien dared press him on it. Prythian had already been rebuilding, Lucien taking on so many roles and belonging to more courts than he could count. He was feeling better about his friendship with Feyre, after their little spat at Winter Solstice; but it still didn’t change that his best friend, his friend that held that title for centuries prior to Feyre’s arrival, was indeed not well. Lucien new he could visit Elain as many times as he’d like; he could bring as many reports as Rhysand asked of him; hell, he could drink as many nights as he could handle with his newfound band of exiles.

But, none of that would help his friend that needed him the most right now.

“Tamlin?” Lucien called, entering the manor through the large front doors and strolling into the foyer. He wasn’t suprised to see dust still collected on the varying surfaces in the space, but was pleased to hear the sound of food steps approaching from the hallway to the left.

“Hello,” Tamlin greeted, emerging from the dim hallway. Lucien forced a smile, despite his disappointment. He was happy to see his friend, of course — but not the state he’d sunk so far into. His hair had grown so long, and he hadn’t bothered to shave in weeks. His crumpled shirt didn’t do him any favors either.

Lucien cleared his throat. “I um, I just wanted to stop in and extend you an invitation.” Tamlin’s face didn’t falter, the same blank expression remaining.

“I was planning on attending the Summer Court’s festival tomorrow, and I was hoping maybe you’d come?” Lucien continued. A small smirk formed on Tamlin’s lips, one Lucien had seen all too many times to know it didn’t contain any humor.

He loosed a breath after a few long beats of silence and awkward eye contact. Lucien shifted on his feet. “No thanks.” Tamlin broke the eye contact first, peering down at the floor. Lucien rolled his eyes hard, stepping toward his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tamlin looked back up at him incredulously.

“Tam, look. I mean really. Look, at you. You haven’t left this place in months! You’re deteriorating. You’re absolutely ruining yourself, my friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to, I don’t know, get out for once?” Lucien’s eyes search Tamlin’s hopefully, and for a moment he sees a flash of what looks like consideration in them.

“No. I don’t.” Tamlin moves to turn away, and Lucien throws his hand up in frustration. Tamlin, caught off guard, halts his movements.

“I don’t know what to do with you man! Can’t you humor me for once? I mean it’s been months since you let Feyre go-“

“Don’t you fucking bring her into this. I don’t have anything to do with her anymore.” He bites out. Lucien stares at him wide eyed, taking this as an opportunity.

“Okay…. so you’re over it. But… it was nice having her here?” He says gently. Tamlin runs a hand through his hair, sighing and looking at the floor again.

“Yeah. Yeah it was Lucien. Real nice until I fucked it all up.” Lucien walks closer once more, offering a small smile when Tamlin meets his eyes.

“So, come with me tomorrow. Get out there again, my friend. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

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Tamlin had to admit; he looked good. Felt good, too. Lucien brought him new clothes, and took him by the small barber shop in the court square the following morning to get a haircut before the festival that evening. He did take it upon himself to shower that morning; a long one, at that. He had a lot to think about, and he hadn’t been out in quite some time. There was a lot riding on tonight.

“Now, I know you haven’t been out in quite some time,” Lucien drawled, mimicking Tamlin’s thoughts. They walked through the hallways of the manor toward the front entrance, as the midday sun shone through the windows and onto the marble floor below. Dust danced in the golden streams of light. Gods, he thought. I really do need to clean up around here.

“But you needn’t worry! I’ll be there the whole time.” Lucien clapped a hand on his friends shoulder, leaning in close. “That is, unless your eyes find a lovely lady and you make other arrangements…” Tamlin looses a chuckle, Lucien reciprocating the sentiment. Once the two approach the doors to the manor and push them open, they peer out and to the expanse of the court they had called home beyond. Lucien motions outward with a hand. “Shall we?”

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The sun was a half-circle along the ocean’s horizon when the pair arrived at the Summer court for the festival. Though it seemed late to the High Lord of the Spring court (who wasn’t used to coming to such things), this was only the beginning of the fun-filled evening to come.

Between walking and winnowing, Tamlin felt a bit worn from the use of his power. He hadn’t needed to use it in quite some time, and with his refusal to partake in the past Calanmai, his stamina wasn’t as up-to-par as it used to be. Glancing to his side, Lucien seemed to be keeping in shape, whatever he’d been doing to hone his powers sure was working as he didn’t even break a sweat.

“Alright, so I believe the way this works is that there are celebrations along the beach, and some activities through the towns?” Lucien explains. Tamlins eyes drop to the sand-dusted cobblestone road when two Summer court females pass by, eyeing him in suprise. He couldn’t help but feel… embarrassed.

“Lucien, I’m not sure if coming here was the best idea.” He admits, scratching his jaw. The short sleeved silk shirt he donned was indeed a good choice, as the warm air was causing Tamlin a bit of discomfort. That, or maybe his anxiety was causing his hands to clam up. Either way, he was feeling warm, jittery, and… out of place.

“Hey,” Lucien said, stopping his pace and turning to his friend. Tamlin stopped too, realizing his hands were tightly clamped into fists at his side. Lucien offered a warm smile, and jerked his head to the sandy beaches that looked a little less crowded than the town.

“Let’s get you a drink, yeah?” Tamlin nodded, and Lucien chuckled, motioning for him to follow. Sand squished beneath the flat planes of his sandals as they waded toward a small wooden hut in the sand, and Tamlin glanced around at the varying people gathered near the center of it.

Lucien approached the bar first, sliding close to a girl in a pink sundress with long, caramel colored hair. She looked to him when they touched, and gasped in suprise, offering a small hug. Ugh. He always had such a way with women.

“Lucien! I didn’t know you’d made it!” She beamed. Her face looked vaguely familiar as Tamlin leaned into the bar on Lucien’s opposite side.

“Only just a few minutes ago,” he replied. She smiled up at him, his arm still around her waist. Then it hit him. That was definitely his mate. Lucien turned to Tamlin, who was now focused on the back of the bartender’s head.

“Tamlin, you’ve met Elain before, right?” He asked. Tamlin turned, pretending to see her for only the first time that evening.

“Yeah! Yeah. Of course. Nice to see you. Again.” He said. Gods, she looked so much like Feyre. No wonder he’d found her familiar.

She offered him a polite smile. “You too.” She kissed Lucien’s cheek, and Tamlin sighed. Before he could pretend to not look again, he felt a tiny tap on the back of his elbow. He turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse and then fully turning to face you.

You stood in silence for a moment, mouth parted and eyes wide as you took in the most handsome male you’d ever seen. He was doing the same, eyes raking over your body and catching on your lips for a moment before returning to meet your gaze. You blinked once, twice, trying to remember what you were doing over here in the first place.

“Oh um… I’m so sorry, um…” you stammer. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, and you catch a glimpse of his lovely white canines. You can feel your face hot with embarrassment.

“I was just wondering if you ordered yet, I…” Tamlin crossed his strong arms over his chest, a smirk taking over his lips. He took a step to the side, clearing a space for you at the bar. He held out a motioning hand for you to step up, so you did, opting to close your fumbling mouth. Lucien’s eyes glanced to you; then to Tamlin in question as you replaced his friend’s position against the bar. The questioning didn’t go far, as the two shared a knowing look moments later.

The bartender took note of the empty space before you on the counter and walked over to you, first asking and preparing a drink for Lucien. He slid to you next, and within moments you felt body heat very close to you from behind.

“What’ll you have, Miss?” He asks.

“Mai Tai, please. Strong,” you say. He nods, glancing above your shoulder. “And for you, sir?” You crane your neck, the tips of blond hairs tickling your nose as Tamlin’s arms move to cage you in to the countertop. He leans in close so the bartender can hear him.

“Whatever she’s having!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

“Andddd, over here we have the shell art studio,” you say. The sun had only dipped a tad more, and from the very first drink Tamlin had clung to you like a cloth drenched by the ocean. His friend was happy to let him go; “Have fun, brother!” he’d said. His pretty friend smacked him on the chest for that one.

You now walked along the sidewalk in the Summer town, pointing out some of your favorite booths and tents that you’d frequent when the Summer festival would occur each year. The sun was dipping low beyond the skyline, the last remnants of it painting your new friend’s portrait beautifully.

“Oh! There is the pineapple ice bar! I can’t believe they’re still here…” you say excitedly. Tamlin looks down at you, noting every freckle on your joyous little face as your cheekbones rise in excitement.

“Well… if it’s as good as you’re making it out to be… we must try some, shouldn’t we?” He requests. Your mouth drops in shock, and you grasp his bicep.

“You’ve… never had… pineapple ice?” You ask. He shakes his head, lips thinning to a flat line. “I’ve never really toured the Summer court, remember?” He replies. You furiously shake your head, groaning and grasping one of his hands in yours.

“Okay — we’re getting this to try, just as a starting point,” you explain. Tamlin nods, trying to ignore the fireworks in his mind from your touch. “But, when you come back to visit, I’m giving you the grand tour, we’ll see everything, I promise!” You hiccup, and Tamlin chuckles. You’re pulling him toward the booth, the few drinks causing the two of you to stumble your way there. When you let go of his hand, he sighs a little, only in his mind.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

“Okay, so, my turn… can you surf?” You ask. The booze has kicked in full swing now, and you have retired with your new companion to a large blanket by one of the hundreds of mini bonfires littering the outstretch of coastline. Upon your suggestion to get to know eachother better, you’ve begun to ask eachother random questions.

“Y/N…” Tamlin chuckles, placing his spoon back into his mostly-empty pineapple ice cup. “I told you I’m not from here, remember?” A laugh bubbles from deep in your chest, and you let it out, causing Tamlin to laugh with you. His wonderful white smile shines bright like the stars overhead.

“I am soooo rediculous!” You say in between your giggles. You set your empty cup down next to you, and Tamlin looks at you sincerely. He mimicks your movements, setting his cup down and then reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You blush, and pretend the colorful explosions just from his touch aren’t there.

“I don’t think you’re rediculous.” He says softly. You grin at him, leaning closely and he chuckles again. He’s laying on his side, head propped up in one hand and you’re sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Mmmm andddd what do you think I am?” You ask. His brow raises, and he stares deep into your eyes.

“I think you’re … cute,” he says. You giggle, and he inches closer. “Very, very funny,” another inch. “And a very good… tour guide!” His hand flicks his spoon at your nose, landing pineapple ice atop the small slope. You squeal, and his fingers find your ribs, sending you fluttering onto your back as you squirm and laugh under his wiggling touch. In an instant his face is hovering over you, vibrant mossy eyes peering into yours. His fingers stop moving, finding purchase on your hips just above your low waisted jeans shorts instead. He holds firm as his tongue flicks out, licking the melting pineapple ice from the tip of your nose. You stare at him, wide-eyed before furrowing your brow and placing a hand over his.

“Tamlin,” you say gently. He smiles softly at you, loving how his name sounds in your voice.

“Who… why… I don’t understand why I don’t know you. How, I don’t know you. How I haven’t met you until just now?” You say. Your words only slip together slightly, as his fingers delicately trace circles on your exposed skin below your tank top.

He lets out a small sigh, his expression going solemn. “I don’t think you’d want to know the real me.” He turns to look toward the water, shame flooding his mind when he remembers what and who he still is. Your brows draw together, fingers caressing his cheeks and turning his face to look at you once more. His mouth is only an inch or two from yours, and you’re almost sharing breath at this point.

“What if I do?” You ask, eyes searching his in desperation. His eyes line with silver, and you smile at him, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. His hand holds yours in his against his face, and you use the other to pull him into you.

The syrupy sweet pineapple remnant kiss sent tethers of electricity through you; the warmth of his mouth on yours heating you from your head to your toes. His hand moves to cup your face, tangle in your hair — and yours pulls him closer by his (very soft) shirt collar. His heart beat is loud, pounding against where your chests touch. His fingers dance up and down your exposed skin and under your tank top while his tongue briefly swipes your bottom lip before he pulls away. You open your eyes to look at him, a cheeky grin over taking your face when he grins down at you.

Behind his head, you catch sight of a shooting star and gasp. “Tamlin!” You whisper. He turns slightly, then fixes his gaze on you again. “Tamlin it’s a shooting star — you make a wish on those, you know? I don’t know how they do it back where you’re from, but here—“

“Darling, I’d only wish for you.”

[acourtofimagines]

There ain’t a doubt in my mind she was forcing him into her bed. Hell the nasty was full grown when he was 12 and she was trying to seduce him. HE WAS 12!!!

acotar/acomaf/acowar spoilers

Unfortunately I’m a Tamlin defender and here’s why

We all know that Feyra is traumatized as fuck; it’s why Tamlins behavior and actions towards her hurt so much. Her reactions and behaviors are understandable. But I see everyone putting Tamlin in an evil-toxic-ex-who-deserves-nothing box. I don’t see him that way, never have. His character actually makes me so immensely sad.

From the beginning, he’s been traumatized. He had a father who was cruel and ruthless. Tamlin told Feyra that he disagreed with and unapproved of a lot of things his father did. We don’t know the full side of his story about the night he and his father killed Rhysand mom and sister. Did Tamlin want to do that? Did his dad force him to go like Rhysand dad tried to get him to kill Tamlin? I just have a feeling there’s a lot of unfortunate misunderstandings between them. But then Tamlin had to watch his father get killed right in front of him and he and Rhysand were declared High Lords in the same night.

Tamlin was a child just like Rhysand. The only difference was Tamlin didn’t have a family, or a best friend, or people to hold him up and teach him how to be a ruler. He was a child forced into a position he wasn’t ready for. So he keeps the same traditions, same rules. It’s probably why the Tithe is still a thing. Has anyone told Tamlin that there’s other, better ways to go about that? Does he even know? He’s playing a guessing game as a High Lord and it shows.

Then Amarantha comes in and we know how that goes. Tamlin is easily the High Lord that got the ‘easy’ way out, compared to the rest who were imprisoned and were definitely tortured on the daily for 50 years. That had to have filled him with guilt, but he still doesn’t know What To Do. (I think Tamlin 100% has the Freeze reaction at any given sign of conflict). “But he only sent his men out for two years!” Two years!! That’s a long time for sending people who are devoted to you, people who became your friends, to a death that will likely will come up at pointless. He was running out of people so he stopped. He froze and continued existing in his Court.

Then came Feyra. The human with hate for Fae in heart, the human who killed his sentry and friend. I, personally, I don’t think Tamlin was planning on falling in love with a human. The deal was that she had to fall in love with him, not the other way around. But when he takes her to his home and she has such a bigger personality than he’d originally thought. She wasn’t only angry, she was also sweet, caring, sarcastic. She wasn’t just a wild human, she loved to paint. Over and over, Tamlin says that he never thought that a human could love such things. Then, she cries over that faerie that died on the table. She held his hand and comforted in his last moments. It was a tender moment that had Tamlin rethinking his own feelings.

But Amarantha still exists. Amarantha is sending more and more beasts and monsters. She’s terrorizing his land day after day. Taunting him. She’s dangerous and all he wants to do is keep Feyra safe. Not because she had to fall in love with him, but because he already fell for her. But Feyra also keeps going out, getting herself in trouble, having to fight for her life. She was reckless. Tamlin wanted to keep her safe. He knew that if he told her the truth, she would go and try to stop it herself without thinking.

Theeeeeen there’s Rhysand. (He’s a whole other point of topic AHH). Rysand, who spiked a head on Tamlins front lawn. Rysand, who came into his home and Hurt Her. Tamlin wasn’t able to protect her in that moment. He didn’t fight, he Bowed. Soooo he sends her away, risking everything; never seeing her again, finally becoming a personal prisoner to Amarantha, losing his court, his best friend. He lost all of that just so she would be safe with her real family.

We don’t know the full extent of what Amarantha did to him. We only saw them at the throne when everyone was gathered. We know what she did to Rhysand, who’s to say she didn’t also to that to Tamlin; the man she actually wanted to marry? Did she hurt him? What did she say to him? We don’t know. What did she hold over his head to have him never interject, never argue, never defend?

Oh and then Feyra is there. She’s There. Even though he sent her away, here she was. I don’t doubt he wanted to fight. But whatever Amarantha did to him, paired with his habit of freezing, prevented him from even making a face. Then she was beat up, put in awful, horrible trials. She almost dies. She’s isolated and alone. And He Can’t Do Anything. He’s watching all of this unfold, frozen out of fear and uncertainty if he’d even win against Amarantha.

Then he has to watch as Rhysand took her, drug her, make a bargain with her, KISS HER after her and Tamlin finally had a second alone. What was going through his head! This man was probably so hurt and broken and torn between fighting and freezing. What was his react when Amarantha told him of the final trial? Was he angry? Scared? Relieved? He knew about his heart of stone, so maybe he already knew the loophole?

I just want to drive it home that We Don’t Know What He Was Thinking when all of this was happening. Then Feyra fucking DIES! Did he notice Rhysand fighting for her? Did he see the true desperation and sadness in Rhysand? Did he understand? Did he think the High Lord of the Night Court was just upset of losing a pet? Weeee don’t know. But I bet it hurt to see someone who is Enemy Number One (other than the obvious) fighting for the woman He loved. Then she’s brought back and everything is good and great and everyone got their happy ending and the world is perfect again. (Haha, there’s a storm coming).

Mist and Fury is the one I want to talk about the most but I’ll make a different post about that.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, more to come.

[acourtofimagines]

Summary: Lucien lets you play with his hair.

I do take requests just check the info and requests page.

If you wanna be added to my tag list let me know.

🍎🍁🍏🍎🍁🍏🍎🍁🍏🍎🍁🍏🍎🍁🍏

It was evening time outside. The setting sun casts a blended hue of pink and orange over the spring court. The rays fluttered through the window. Casting a faint glow onto Lucien. Who was currently seated on the floor by the foot of his bed? His arms were crossed and he wore an unserious scowl on his face. You were settled behind him. Seated on the edge of his bed. You wore the biggest smile on your face. You gripped your brush as you gently grabbed a lock of his beautiful red hair. He sighed.

"Why did I agree to this again?" he grumbled even though the corners of his mouth lifted clearly showing he was anything but upset.

"Because we made a deal" you reminded him, "I helped you on patrols this morning and in return, I got to play with your hair". He rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh and because you love me!" you added.

"A high lord's emissary shouldn't be so...pampered" he grumbled but you clearly heard his chuckle.

"Yeah, well I like pampering you Vanserra, so get used to it," you told him as you started to weave his gorgeous red locks into an intricate braid. Lucien smiled softly and leaned his head back as he closed his eyes.

"Only for you," he murmured with a softness only you ever really got to see. You smirked.

"I should go grab a pretty little bow," you teased. His eyes snapped open

"Don't you dare!" he warned even though both of you knew good and well he wouldn't stop you if you did. You giggled finishing the braid.

"All done," you said, "didn't think you could be even more handsome,". He smiled, feeling the braid.

"I guess it's not so bad," he leaned his head further back until it was lying back in your lap as he looked up at you, "but only because you did it," You smiled as you used your hands to caress his cheeks as you leaned down and gave him a soft, loving kiss.

REQUEST INFO

[acourtofimagines]

😭

hi, i agree with a lot of what you’ve said in your last post about acotar opinions that should be universal - but would you mind not throwing around diagnoses like that of DID with little to no context? i agree that tamlin was acting out of character to some extant, but i attribute that to sjm’s bad writing more than anything else, and i think pathologising the behaviour of a fictional character who’s already so hated (however unjustly) further contributes to the stigma. i don’t think he changed as much as the narrative’s attitude towards him. i’d be interested to know why you think he has DID because i can’t think of anything that would suggest the same. i apologise if i’m coming off as combative, but as someone who takes issue with the ease with which this fandom throws around words like abuse - or pathologies/labels in general, i can’t help but implore you to think twice about this, or at least explain why you hold this opinion, if you don’t mind.

— i’m also not trying to imply that there’s anything wrong with tamlin or anyone having DID - just that there are a lot of misconceptions about such disorders, and having failed to find evidence supporting the same, wanted to understand your assertion a little bit more. which is to say i don’t want someone to think “if tamlin is bad and tanljn has did then tamljn is bad because he has did, ergo did is bad.” which is a terribly oversimplified statement and a bit of a reach, but within this fandom? i wouldn’t be surprised.

Hello! I am not just making the diagnosis on a whim, I have actually taken psychology courses and Tamlin fulfills many of the DSM-5 symptoms. DID often occurs as a result of severe childhood trauma, and Tamlin, apart from having abusive parents, was sexually harassed as a child by Amarantha which continued long into his adulthood.

I think the age break scenario does personally suit him as a character even more than the personality break.

Because it is at incidences of high intensity. So, not all of the pain he’s suffered is going to result in a crack. But it would build up overtime

For example, leading to the first crack being at childhood meeting with Amarantha, after two years of living with an abusive parent. Which creates a “brain save” in his mind of twelve year old Tamlin. Fast forward to UTM, where I am almost certain Tamlin was raped. Considering he already had past SA from Amarantha, the trauma he experiences UTM is likely to become associated with the experiences of childhood. So the “brain save” of age twelve will then mix with the new age of twenty three / five hundred

And a new crack is formed, creating a need for a new save. Think of it like a computer auto saving. It’s the minds way of seeing a future crash and ensuring that you don’t wake up not knowing who you are. In ACOMAF we see two distinct sides of him. We see one side that is gentle and kind as he was before, and we also see a more violent, panicky side where he seems to be losing control of his magic. If you want to know more, my friend @positivelyruined has actually had DID and recovered from it and she agrees with my diagnosis!

[acourtofimagines]

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE FUCKING BACK!

“Lucien would enact the Blood Duel over claim to Elain.”

Lucien Vanserra?

Lucien, who was willing to undergo torture to keep Feyres name?

Lucien, the only one to give Feyre a way to get true answers?

Lucien, who came to check in on Feyre UTM?

Lucien, who saved Feyres life in the first trial and was whipped debilitatingly for it?

Lucien, who still found a way to make it to Feyre after he was whipped?

Lucien, who gave Feyre a means to protect herself?

Lucien, who took the brunt of Tams abuse advocating for Feyre?

Lucien, who ventured into the Nigh Court tracking Feyre basically on his own to attempt to save her from a HIGH LORD who he thought was mind controlling her?

Lucien, who suffered in silence from Ianthes stalking and harassment?

Lucien, who endangered himself to get to Elain to cover her up when she came out of the cauldron when no one else could?

Lucien, who held Feyre because she was having a nightmare?

Lucien, who performed the Rite out of duty even when it meant forcing him to have sex with the woman who actively stalked and harassed him and would later go on to try to rape him?

Lucien, who was Feyres closest ally in the Spring Court even as she was destroying to only place he could call home?

Lucien, who told Feyre to run while he was about to be raped so she would be safe?

Lucien, who protected Feyre when they went on the run?

Lucien, who went to the Night Court to ensure his mate was safe, not caring about his own safety, not knowing if he would die?

Lucien, who found out what was wrong with Elain, and even through his concern and mate instinct, respected Elains boundaries and the inner circles wishes?

Lucien, who cooperated from the moment he stepped into the Night Court to help give them information to save Prythian?

Lucien, who was the only person to listen to Elains visions, and endangered himself to travel to the continent?

Lucien, who helped bring a fucking army to Prythian to save them and help destroy Hybern?

Lucien, who slaughter his way across a battle field just to make sure Elain was ok?

Added Bonus: Lucien, the ONLY PERSON to tell Amarantha off and lost his eye for it?

I can keep going but I hope you get the point that under no fucking instance does Lucien enacting a blood duel fit his character. He is the most selfless character is this series and how anyone could call him a fucking coward is beyond me. Maybe try reading with nuance and understanding the character yall speak ill of on behalf of Azriel who hasn’t even done half as much. And stop acting like Elain needs saving from him when he’s been nothing but respectful to her and the most respectful mate we’ve seen. Get it together.