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theostrophywife · 2 years

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nonsense.

i don't want no one else, baby i'm in too deep.

here's a lil song i wrote, it's about you and me.

masterlist a/n: i heard this song and immediately thought about meeting az for the first time at rita's and being absolutely stunned at how pretty he is and instantly forming a crush. summary: during a wild girl's night out, mor introduces you to a certain shadowsinger.

mor had been begging to take you on one of her infamous wild night out for weeks. it was her remedy for a breakup: go out, get drunk, and party until you could no longer remember your ex boyfriend's name.

it wasn't a bad plan and after you took the time to truly get over your last relationship, you finally obliged your friend. mor was elated. as a new resident of velaris, she couldn't wait for you to meet her friends—her family as she called them, and you were equally as excited. you'd heard a lot about rhys, feyre, amren, cassian, nesta, elain, and lucien, but not nearly as much as azriel, who mor seemed to think would be a great match for you.

while you had gotten over the heartbreak of your breakup, you weren't sure you were ready to put yourself out there again. a fact that you reminded mor of as the two of you got ready in your apartment.

the blonde only nodded, piling on dark kohl on your eyes and swiping a bright shade of red on your lips. with mor being mor, you knew that she was probably only half-listening, already forming a plan to push you headfirst into the city of starlight's dating pool. you didn't mind. it'd been a while since you'd gone out with mor and you knew you'd have fun. you always did with her. you'd drink those fruity little cocktails and probably end up dancing on tables by the end of the night. you could hardly wait.

rita's was absolutely packed, which made sense since it was a saturday night. but you and mor skipped over the line winding around the street and came in through the back entrance. perks of being close friends with the high lord's third-in-command, she'd said with a wink.

you laughed as she led you inside, the music and lights and dancing making your body come alive. mor wasted no time and had gotten you shots of something strong. you didn't ask what it was as the two of you clinked your glasses together and downed the alcohol. it set your body buzzing and your lips tingling.

it was three shots in when mor's friends finally found you in the packed crowd. rhys and feyre arrived first, followed by nesta and cassian. rhys made pleasant conversation and asked how you were adjusting to velaris, to which feyre fondly referred to as rhys activating his 'high lord' mode. it made you chuckle. by the way they teased each other, you could tell that the mated couple was deeply in love.

you' instantly got along with cassian after you chugged a tall glass of ale without spilling a single drop. nesta had rolled her eyes as he tried and failed to mimic your actions, but thanked you after you asked if she'd like a water or seltzer since you remembered mor mentioning that nesta didn't drink.

elain and lucien arrived just as rhys was telling you about the time that he had to pay for the damages cassian caused to the bar countertop when he decided to do a strip tease in the middle of happy hour. the redhaired male and the pretty brunette were pleasant and welcoming, but you could tell this wasn't their scene. they only joined you for about an hour or so before bowing out.

amren was terrifying, but she'd brought varian with her and she seemed to soften with him by her side. the prince was charming and an old acquaintance of yours when you used to visit adriata with your family as a child. you'd asked after cresseida and tarquin, glad to hear that the two were doing well and making significant changes within the summer court.

the shadowsinger came last. caught up in official spymaster duties, cassian had told you with a wink. honestly, he was just as bad as mor. he even asked if mysterious, broody males were your type. you'd laughed it off, but the answer would've been a resounding yes.

and then azriel walked through the door.

your jaw actually dropped. because are you fucking kidding? the dark hair and sharp cheekbones and carved jawline and utterly imposing figure that was headed straight towards you couldn't be a real, actual male. he looked like something carved by the gods.

shadows swirled around him like smoke, enveloping the enormous wings at his back. he looked like darkness personified.

you could hardly meet that burning gaze, swirls of the deepest greens and browns flecked with golden rings that blazed like the heart of a forge. and gods, you weren't even breathing, couldn't even hear what mor was saying as she introduced you to this gorgeous male.

"it's nice to finally meet the infamous y/n. mor's told me a lot about you." a hint of mischief, a touch of teasing as he took your hand in his.

you smiled, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin against yours or the way his large hand enveloped over yours. "only the good bits, i hope."

"nothing but the best, my lady."

that voice...cool and smoky and downright seductive. you could've listened to him talk for ages.

now that the whole party had arrived, mor called for a celebratory shot. a round of the strongest liquor, passed around through the group with a hint of salt and lime to ease the burn. azriel had settled by your side and it was his glass that clinked against yours as you all downed your drinks. he chuckled as cassian winced at the taste, but kept his eyes on you as you threw the liquor back with a straight face. a lick of salt and a drop of lime and you couldn't even feel the burn. if anything, the liquor made everything warm and delicious and pleasantly hazy.

as the nerves of first impressions dissipated, you found that you actually really liked mor's friends. they were funny and nice and overall welcoming. none more than azriel.

you talked a bit about your home in the winter court and your new role as principal at the velaris ballet.

"so, what exactly does a shadowsinger do?" you asked, leaning against the marble countertop. "i don't suppose you'd grace us with your angelic voice tonight?"

azriel chuckled and the sound skittered over you like a torrential wind, cooling your overheated skin. "wrong type of singer," he'd teased. "a shadowsinger is just who i am. though angelic is probably the last word anyone would use to describe me."

"oh?" you'd retorted with a raised brow. "with a pretty face like yours, i seriously doubt it."

he leaned in and that delicious combination of night chilled mist and cedar enveloped you on all sides. he smelled delicious. you wanted to drown in it. "i'm not the one that people travel across prythian to watch."

"damn right they do," mor announces proudly, draping an arm across your shoulders. "you should see her up on that stage. she kills it every time." a mischevious smirk curves across the pretty blonde's face. "in fact, why wait? come on, y/n. let's show them how it's done."

with that, your friend dragged you over to the dance floor. the music blared and the faelights flashed and the dancer within you emerged. morrigan was a great partner, moving with the beat as the two of you did what you do best. you were graceful, twirling and turning effortlessly as mor spun you around. azriel couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

"told you i'd make you forget all about that sorry ex of yours!" mor exclaimed as you gyrated to the pounding beat.

"who?" you joked. mor threw her head back in laughter and you joined her, grateful that you'd agreed to come out tonight.

"you were great out there," azriel said an hour later as you slipped out into the quiet street. he hadn't joined the rest of his friends out on the dance floor, preferring to sit back and watch, wreathed by his shadows. but you could feel his gaze on you the entire time.

the chattering of the rest of your group hummed through the balmy night, but the two of you stayed behind, lingering on the outskirts as you walked side by side.

"you should've joined us, shadowsinger."

he smirked and just when you thought he couldn't be more attractive, azriel proved you wrong. "perhaps i will the next time you come out with us."

"always leave them wanting more," you said with a chuckle. "a smart strategy."

"i can't very well show all my cards at once, can i?" was he flirting? azriel knocked his shoulder against yours, his wing briefly brushing against your back. "perhaps we can make a deal. i'll show you mine if you show me yours." oh, he was most definitely flirting.

you laughed, the sound of it deeper and huskier than you've ever heard yourself. "i bet you say that to all the ladies."

"only the exceptionally beautiful ones and i've only come across one of those, so far." his gaze danced over the flush spreading through your cheeks. "save me a seat at your next performance and i promise i'll show you all the dance moves in my arsenal. even the embarrassing ones."

"are you trying to bribe me, azriel?"

"only if it's working."

"friday night. front row."

he smiled. "i'll be there, my lady."

the rest of your group parted ways, some winnowing, some flying. the shadowsinger stayed behind, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. he bid you goodnight before launching into the sky in a dark blur.

mor smirked, draping an arm over your shoulder. "aren't you glad i convinced you to come out with me tonight?"

you chuckled, bumping your hip against hers as you tore your gaze away from the starry sky. "i think i'm going to like it here."

#AHHHHH #the flirting and the banter god could you imagine #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader #azriel fluff

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bittermuire · 1 year

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Be the first who ever did - 2

more unhappily married nessian for the people!!!!!!

read the first part here :)

The only word to describe how she feels now is naked.

Cassian holds her hand as they walk through the onslaught of cameras. He doesn’t speak and she doesn’t speak but she feels his mind roiling, a perverse, innate movement inside her chest. He wants to talk to her, she knows that much—he wants to talk it out, let’s talk it out, Nesta, but after last night and I just wish that you could really love me, she’s said enough. He won’t be getting a word out of her.

The second they get into the restaurant she pulls away, makes for Elain’s figure in the corner. Cassian lets go of her. Cresseida snatches her attention halfway there with a fierce hug. “Hi,” Nesta says, voice still a bit hoarse, genuinely glad to see her. Thin, elegant pins sparkle in her snow-white hair. “Congratulations. You look gorgeous. Where’s Alastair?”

Cresseida grins and squeezes her hand. “I lost him fifteen minutes ago, I think Tarquin grabbed him. Oh well. I’ll have him all to myself for two weeks.”

“Ahh, the honeymoon I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“The honeymoon you’ve been hearing so much about!” she laughs, and takes a deep breath. “Truth be told, I’m so ready for this whole thing to be over. The wedding, the parties…” she shakes her head, eyes still elegant and present with appropriate mirth. “Velaris is exhausting sometimes.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Elain joins them, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s cheek and then to the bride-to-be’s. “Hi beautiful, how are you?”

Cresseida smiles. “Ready to be tipsy.”

“Allow me,” she says, and with a wink dives into the crowd, cutting a line straight through to the bar. She emerges in record time with three flutes of champagne.

Nesta gives a startled laugh and takes one. “You’re magic.”

“Cauldron-blessed.”

“I’m being summoned,” Cresseida says wryly, and gestures to her tall, handsome brother, standing on the other side of the room. Alastair and a short, dark-haired woman are with him.

Then, Mother help them, Feyre materializes out of nowhere in a silver sparkly dress that leaves scandalously little to the imagination and looks, admittedly, stunning on her. “Oh my god, I have to tell you guys something. Fucking Azriel, of all people, has a girlfriend—” She stops and frowns, staring at Tarquin, a bit flushed. “Who’s that girl? With Tarquin.”

“Oh, that’s Nuan,” Cresseida tells her. “She works in Thesan’s court.”

“They’re dating?”

Cresseida nods and takes another sip of champagne. “For the last couple months, yeah. I really like her. I think he does too.”

There was a period of time before Rhysand, after Tamlin, when Feyre’s attention was caught utterly and incandescently on Tarquin. He was younger, much more her speed. He seemed to intrigue her and kept her guessing. With an energetic mind as quick and eager as a butterfly, Feyre inexhaustibly grew bored and he was good for her. Nesta doesn’t know the extent of that relationship. She only ever met him briefly.

Then this, too, was severed almost violently by the bond with Rhysand clicking into place. Tamlin had been nobody; Tarquin become nobody too. Rhysand was everything the moment they met. Rhysand is her entire world, the love of her life, her beloved mate.

And yet, Feyre watches the girl—Nuan—with cold, exacting eyes. That ferocity she bundled deep inside herself, that intensity she conquered within herself to belong—Nesta watches it emerge, watches her little sister, ruddy and tough, almost, nearly—

“I’ll see you guys later,” says Cressieda, waving at the brink of the crowd. “Get drunk without me!”

Nesta smiles and turns away as well, entirely without the patience necessary to entertain Feyre’s company tonight. Elain follows her and links their arms together. She doesn’t feel like speaking. This is something her sister seems to understand as they go to a smaller table in the corner of the vast, loud restaurant. They position their chairs close together to face the rest of the room; to guard their backs, to observe the crowd, both, neither; Nesta’s head is pounding with a worry that isn’t her own, a sick cold spreading through her veins. Her eyes fall inevitably on Cassian. He’s standing with his beloved brothers, hands in his pockets, laughing. He’s so beautiful it pains her. He smiles like it isn’t painful.

He looks at her, then. Sees her already looking. Across the room his smile drops, his eyes soften, his brows pull together. He makes as if to come to her.

She looks down, looks away.

By midnight the guests have dwindled to a generous twenty. Nesta twirls her wine glass. On the abandoned dance floor, Alastair holds Cresseida with blinding love as they sway. Elain is talking animatedly with the bartender. Feyre is nowhere to be found—come to think of it, neither is Rhys. She can see half of Azriel through the back door propped open, talking on the phone, crouching on the concrete with a cigarette. It glows red.

And Cassian, silent, a palpable presence in her body, stands as he has been on the other side of the restaurant, talking with Tarquin and the girl, Nuan. He leans against the wood of the bar and gesticulates gracefully as he speaks. His mouth moves in that beautiful way; she can almost hear his voice, low, even, steady.

Maybe she’s tired. Maybe the dam broke last night and now the world is ending. But her heart burns and her eyes burn, too, tears threatening to well up and fall. She drops her head, panicked and sad, tired of being sad. She went three years without shedding so much as a tear—she can last this night.

Her chest twinges; she looks up to see Cassian walking towards her. Alarm jolts within her, joins arms with squeezing pain, derelict, real.

She went to the doctor, once, when the bond had only recently snapped. She was experiencing chest pains, heart palpitations, headaches. Her blood was hot. Her body was cold. There was something inside of her that she had to get out, somehow. She’d sit on the bathroom floor, hunched over the toilet, fingers down her throat, trying to eject the pain.

He holds his hand out to her. “Will you dance with me?”

Wordless, she goes with him.

He holds her in the classic style. This is what she learned in her mother’s sitting room. Now, gratefully, that most of the party has gone, the music can be heard. It lingers softly in the air—cello, violin, solemn like a dream already being forgotten. She’s tall, but he’s taller. With a sigh she rests her head on his shoulder. He tenses.

He softens, and pulls her closer.

“Nesta,” he murmurs. His fingers twitch on the small of her back. “Can we talk about last night?”

She huffs a laugh. “No.”

“We’ve got to talk at some point.”

“Talk with yourself. I’m done.”

His hand moves hesitantly to her upper back, where her skin is bare, fingers skimming soft and cautious. “There are things I need to tell you.”

“You’ve had three years, Cassian,” she says lowly. Like always, he startles at the sound of his name. “It’s too late for either of us to make an effort.”

His chest swells and she knows he’s about to make some clipping remark, a towel over her mouth. She braces herself for it. It doesn’t come. His hand slides down again to the small of her back, although the heat of his skin still manages to seep through the fabric.

“Tell me what you want,” is all he says.

What does she want?

Does she want anything?

She used to want love, more than love she wanted happiness, more than happiness she wanted stability. She’s been given a husband, a house, a city in which she can live at the sparkling epicenter; she’s been given money, status, sway; she’s been told, we’ve found a man to love you, we’ve filled your bank account, we’ve picked out clothes for your closet, she’s been told, in words and glances and silences and taut, fierce, ordering voices, there’s no reason for you to be sad now. Is there anything worse than what she is? The oldest sister, unfailingly terrible? A disappointment, too stubborn to give in. She used to wonder—perhaps she’d be happier if she let Feyre reign. Soften to be made again. So, out of tiredness, she took Cassian, accepted him into her body.

So she sheltered his heart. Her lungs stretched to fit his breath as well as her own. Souls, entwined, struggling for room. So he sheltered her.

Hand-in-hand they go together, to parties, to galas, to luncheons, to surprise interventions followed swiftly by tea and pastries. They have sex on regular intervals and it’s fine. He isn’t gentle but he isn’t hard. She can extricate, easily, pleasure from him. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever like it, if pleasure is something her body knows. All she feels is the heat of him on her skin and beneath it as well, his languorous passion, bitter and gratifying, in her mind, in her hands, in her soul, if such a thing exists.

And so he holds her in a dim restaurant and says, Tell me what you want. Says it as though she could be expected to answer.

She lifts her head and looks at him. His eyes flit vigilantly over her face.

“I want,” she says, “a bottle of the wine served tonight.”

To his credit he doesn’t look angry or surprised. He nods stiffly. “I’ll arrange it,” he says.

She pulls against his grasp and he lets her go.

Late that night they’re lying in bed. She can tell he’s awake. She’s lying on her side, facing away from him.

“Cassian,” she whispers. Her voice sounds soft even to her in the darkness.

A small pause.

“Yeah?”

“You have to understand, it’s…”

Another pause, heavy with expectation.

“You can tell me.”

She blinks. There’s nothing for it. All that anger, it’s as though it’s now been replaced by a screaming urge to be understood. She pulls the sheets closer around her.

“I used to like you. I had a crush. You were a storybook character to me, a prince from a fairytale.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “And you were—gentle, with me. You were kind and I hated everyone and I wanted you to like me back. I knew you wanted to sleep with me, but I ignored that, I think.”

“Nesta, I—”

“Then the bond happened,” she tells him. “It’s different for men. You have… urges. You walk around getting horny and overprotective. For me I thought I was dying. The only guy I ever really liked was now practically inside me. And you went on living your life.” She shakes her head, swallows. “I lost you. You might have liked me. I knew you’d never love me. I thought, I’ll grin and bear it. At least I’ll live comfortably. I won’t have to work. Well, anyway.” She closes her eyes. Her voice pitches up, the tell that she's about to cry. “There’s nothing I want anymore. I don’t know what I want.”

The sheets rustle, the mattress dips. She feels him closer to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You were in my head,” she hisses, feeling stupid.

“You kept me out,” he says lowly. “And besides. No matter what Rhys tells you, minds are indecipherable. I could submerge myself in your head and not understand a thing. I’ve only ever felt shadows of impressions of feelings from you.”

She frowns and takes a breath. “You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does Feyre go through my head?”

There’s a brief, menacing silence.

“What did you say?”

“Periodically, Feyre goes through my head. To check if I’m hurting myself or plotting treason, is what I’ve always guessed.”

“And you agreed to this?”

She laughs dryly. “I haven’t agreed to a lot of things.”

“Do you let her in? How does she do it?”

“She’s my little sister. She’s clumsy at loving people. A family trait. I crack open a door in the corner and she very stealthily sneaks through.” Nesta smiles, despising herself. “Like a gyn appointment but worse. At least you make an appointment for those.”

Then, blessed Mother, she starts crying again, as predictable and irrepressible as an infant screaming for food, for love, for warmth. It’s quiet this time. No shaking, horrible sobs, only salt and water leaking from her eyes, making the darkness blurry.

“Nesta,” he says softly, which, of course, only makes it worse.

She rolls onto her back, pressing her palms into her eyes. “Oh, god,” she laughs. “Oh, god help me. I’m so tired. Maybe I’m still sick.”

“Then let’s sleep,” he says, hesitantly. “I’m sorry, this is a conversation for tomorrow. Want me to go to the guest room?”

She can’t find the words and covers her face with her arms. When she was little her mother didn’t like her to get her hair cut short. Shining hair swirling thick and smooth down her child’s body. She used to grab it in her hands and cover her face with it, like within her flower-smelling hair she could disappear; she would slip between the hanging laundry sheets of the world and no one would find her, not a soul.

With placid fingers he eases her arms away. She opens her eyes to see him above her, blurry and reliably beautiful. She wants to lose her memory. To start over in this bed.

Brow furrowed, he brushes her hair back from her face, painstaking and gentle. She looks at him all the while, examines his face. Such calmness. Dark eyes, darker lashes. His mouth is turned down. How many times has she kissed that mouth, felt its heat?

He bends and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, breath fanning warm over her skin.

She takes a shaky breath. “I have a cellphone,” she whispers. “I have a college degree in literature.”

“I know.”

“A mate bond is a myth, Cassian.”

His mouth tenses. “I know.”

“I’ll always hate you.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I love you. I mean it.”

She swallows. “Sleep here tonight.”

“Alright.”

She rolls back onto her side. She wonders drowsily where she went, where her anger and horror and bitterness went. Sometimes she thinks she feels it in her throat or her stomach; the reaction is split and swift; kill it, kill it, kill it; clutch it tight, Nesta, never let it go.

Sleep gathers her like a child gathers a stray bird’s feather into her basket.

they're so bad at communicating it makes me laugh and also cry

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #nessian angst #look. i know that she should be angrier at him and i think this part will frustrate some people #but i'm trying to emphasize the EMPTINESS here #nesta had a CRUSH on him #they didn't date #they didn't flirt #she was in the trenches and he was like this guy who was NICE to her i mean she was daydreaming about him #anyway idk how to convey this but you guys get it. you get it #also it's been a while since i was last writing this story so if there are inconsistencies #shhhh no there are not

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shi-daisy · 5 months

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Flower Mischief

If you can't tell I'm currently bouncing! Day 3 and I been waiting for this prompt cuz Florist Tamlin AU is giving me life. Today on the agenda, Tamcien being cute and petty. Readers will recognized the boquet described here from the old flower language insult post that's floating around Tumblr. Hope you all like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024 -Day 3: Flower Language

Flower Mischief

Tamlin perked up when he saw his favorite costumer, and good friend coming down the road. He was about to greet Lucien with the biggest smile he could until he noticed the redhead's russet eyes were puffy and reddened and his pretty face had tears tracks. A far cry from his usual beautiful smile.

"Lucien! What happened? Do you need water?! Should I call someone?"

"No...It's fine. I was just hoping Andras was still clocked in. I need a ride."

"I think he left an hour ago, but I can help if you'd like. What happened?"

He sighed not wanting to look at him. "Elain cheated on me."

Tamlin nearly screamed. He froze for a moment and then put down the pot of lilies he was holding.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say Elain cheated on you?!"

"Yes. Let's just say I came home early from college and had a surprise visit. Sorry to say the floral orders will stop for a while."

"Forget about that! I'm so sorry to hear that. Let me get you some water. Here sit down and I'll be right with you."

Tamlin rushed back to the breakroom where Dorevan was raiding the mini fridge.

"If you took my ice water I'll kill you."

"Chill, pipsqueak. I took some soda and stole the salami sandwich Hart left there. Roxy packed us salads for lunch, you can have mine if you want, too much lettuce."

"You're gonna get scurvy if you don't eat at least a leafy green a week!" Tamlin chastised his brother as he grabbed two ice water bottles. "Are you gonna close up?"

"Yeah, Ciaran and Roxanne have date night but they're leaving the kiddo with mom and dad. I'll close shop late, maybe get the wedding order done too. Thesan is my friend but if he changes colors one more time Khalid will be a widow before the wedding."

"Go easy on him! Those two are hopeless."

"Like you and your pretty redhead?"

"Hush!"

Dorevan smiled. "I can hear you all the way down here. Just be nice. He's single now, isn't he?"

"Shhhh. He is but the poor man was just cheated on! I'm not going to take advantage fo that."

Dorevan rolled his brown eyes so far Tamlin thought he'd go blind. "You're such a goody two shoes. Go get that man and help him get revenge. Perfect first date!"

"If Alis was on shift she'd kick ya."

"Good thing she's off today. Now run along before your fire fox leaves."

"Stay quiet or I'm telling Cresseida you don't really like seafood and go to the restaurant just to have her as your waitress."

"Tamlin I swear to fuck if you do that I'll beat you up!"

Tamlin just laughed as he walked out with the water and went back to Lucien's side. "Here you go!"

"Thanks."

The two had a nice drink and Tamlin began putting everything away everything before his shift ended.

He noticed Dorevan had left the orange lilies out on display and he had an idea.

"Lucien, you once told me your ex knows flower language, correct?"

"Yes. I often suggested themed boquets for that reason. Why do you ask?"

Tamlin smirked mischievously. "We could give her a little parting gift to ease your sorrows. Free of charge of course."

"Tamlin, I can't ask that of you!"

"Hey if it bothers ya just take me out for coffee sometime."

It made him giddy to see a slight blush take over the redhead's dark skin. Tamlin took out the flowers a day explained their meaning to Lucien as he arranged them.

"These are geraniums they represent stupidity, the yellow carnations mean disapointment, the foxglove is insincerity, and finally the orange lilies represent hatred."

The end result was a beautiful boquet that was full of loathing. Lucien seemed impressed. "Too good of a parting gift but it's a nice way to be petty silently. Thank you."

"Anytime."

The pair heard a honking from outside the door. Tamlin recognized it as Arryn Vanserra's red SUV.

"Ugh! The twins found me? No doubt they'll want gossip."

"You know them?"

"We're siblings."

"Oh...Oh right you have the same last name. You just look very diffrent."

Lucien smirked. "I was the cuck baby. Ask mom."

He nearly busted a lung laughing at that.

"Luciiiiii, I'll become an old lady honking outside. Oh hi Tami!"

"Hey Tanya. Congrats on the transition, you're looking lovely."

"Thanks blondie! Just came to pick up the baby, Eris and Nesta sent me to take you out for treats with Arryn."

"You all know already?!"

"Eris is a bigger gossip than me, dummy. We went to get your things. Gideon and Nemesis would've beaten Az up if Eris didn't stop em and let Nesta unleash a yelling reckoning instead. It was glorious!

The boys are setting everything up for ya at Cedric's place. Unless you wanna go stay with mom and Helion. Feyre said you can stay with her and Bryaxis too, she's pretty livid at flower girlie too."

"Ugh no, mom and dad will get over emotional and I don't wanna worry them. Feyre's family and roommates are fun to hang out with but their house is a permanent rave. I'll stay with Ced."

"Wise choice, now get to it! We can go clubbing after the ice cream! Wanna come along Tamlin?"

"Well, I'd love to but I have to make a delivery before that." He said while glancing at

"That can be done tomorrow, I'd rather have you out for some ice cream and dancing if you're still interested." Lucien said.

Tamlin smiled. "Then let me clock out and I'll be right with ya."

With the Vanserras heading for the car, Tamlin put away his apron, clocked out and got a small flower for the road. He and Lucien went to the backseat while twins sat in the front, before they headed out he put a small bloom on Lucien's hair.

"What's this?"

"A little pick me up for the road."

"A daffodil? What does this one mean?"

"New beginnings."

Tamlin was overjoyed to see Lucien smiling sweetly at him, already in a better mood. He'd make sure the redhead was the one receiving flowers this time.

#tamlinweek2024 #tamlin #tamlin x lucien #tamcien #day 3: Flower Language

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niytavia · 4 years

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i think i can safely speak for everyone when i say this is the one thing the entire fandom can agree on

#he's so good #never did anything wrong your honor #i would have a platonic marriage with him #and date cresseida on the side #listen he's got the lesbian stamp of approval #so that's good #tarquin #summer court #acomaf #acowar #mine #text post #ish #acotar crack

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sarah-bae-maas · 7 years

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Here you go, hope you enjoy! To check out some more if you feel like it, I have a masterlist here that has everything I’ve written for ACOTAR and TOG in it!

***

Having children was never something Amren was inclined to do. She found them irksome, and the way they couldn’t care for themselves and were so overly dependent was annoying. She had never truly loved a child until her family had started procreating. First was Cassian. She thought his son might be the true spawn of irritation like his father, but that feeling melted away the first time he clenched her finger in his fist, and she saw the dimples on his cheeks. Then Rhysand and Feyre popped out a little girl, and she had never felt the urge to protect as strongly as she had then. As more and more of them had children and her life was filled with calls of Aunty Amren and the sound of high-pitched laughter, her heart settled on the idea of kids – not her own, but loving someone else’s. No matter how much she loved her nieces and nephews, there was no way she would ever want to give birth. The problem? Her lover of centuries, Varian.

Amren couldn’t miss the way he stared longingly at families if she tried. It had started small at first: a lingering glance full of envy as he stared at Azriel and Mor with their son and daughter, being willing, even wanting to change shit filled diapers, holding babes close to his chest and just closing his eyes. But it became more than that. Tarquin gave him full reign of care over his children, and Varian took every opportunity he could to whisk them away and be the best uncle he could. Amren could admit that he would be a wonderful father. As for her? That just wasn’t something she’d ever considered or wanted. She’d seen women give birth, and there was no way in hell she was doing that. Amren knew this like she knew the sound of Varian’s breathing, like she knew the beating of her heart if he was near. So, as she looked at him now with Tarquin’s youngest giggling in his arms, she was afraid. Scared that this male she loved so much, who owned the key to her locked heart and soul, would leave her.

Varian threw his niece into the air and caught her, her little giggles echoing around the atrium.

“Thank you for bringing her back safely,” Tarquin said. His other children had been busy in tutoring today, but his little girl couldn’t read yet let alone learn history or languages. That meant that while Tarquin had a date with his mate, Varian got his daughter.

“Same time next week?” Varian kissed the toddler’s forehead.

Tarquin approached him while nodding before lifting his girl out of Varian’s arms. The High Lord cooed at her and cuddled her tight, the tot snuggling eagerly into her Papa’s chest, tiny hands clenching onto his jacket’s lapels.

“I’ll see you soon, take care.” Tarquin left, muttering things under his breath to his daughter about how much he loved her and how much her missed her during the day.

Amren would never be able to give Varian that. There was just no way she could ever carry a baby in her body.

That night as Varian released himself in her and groaned her name, a tear escaped her eye. Every time that she now made love to him might be the last. It was inevitable. Amren could not give him a child.

_____

It had started to happen.

Amren knew Varian too well for him to be able to hide his emotions from her. She could tell he was steeling himself to ask her if they could try to conceive a child. The first time she noticed was the morning after their five-hundredth and eighty-third anniversary, when she awoke to find him running his fingers over her bare abdomen. Then one day while they were walking down the Sidra he stopped to look at baby clothing, even though the clothes were too small for any child they knew. The week proceeding, she caught him reading a book of names, the fortnight after that he asked Azriel to teach him how to be a carpenter so he could build furniture for him and Amren. The piece he made? A crib. The first time something like this happened a seed of dread planted itself in Amren’s stomach, and every situation since had only watered it until it had grown to the size of her body, completely consuming her.

Amren could not give birth.

She sat across from Varian at their table, barely picking at the food while he enthusiastically ate. He kept giving her strange looks as she used her fork to push her peas into the shape of a dagger, but he didn’t comment. He did keep tapping his fingers on the hardwood table though, something he only did when he was nervous.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said as he laid down his cutlery.

Amren had dreaded this moment, but resigned herself to her fate. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. We’ve been together so long, and these years have given me nothing but joy when I’m with you. There hasn’t been a war in Prythian since the King of Hybern, and there are strong treaties between all the Courts. We’re perfectly safe, and I think that now would be the perfect time to maybe extend the little family we’ve made for ourselves.”

The look of pure hope on his face made Amren want to throw up the small amount of food she had managed to eat through her anxiety. She didn’t reply, just turned her head to the side. Varian misread her distress as hesitancy so he got up from his chair and came around the table to kneel in front of her. He took her hands in his, the rough feel on his calluses from centuries of sailing on her skin was the most comforting feeling she could hope for at a time like this.

“I don’t know…”

“Amren, I love you. I have since the first time I say you in Adriata and you looked like you were going to murder me, but then stood and drank with me anyway when I was feeling lonely. You are everything to me, and I can’t imagine a life without you. It’s been nearly six-hundred years, Amren, and I think we’re ready to-”

“Don’t say it.” She hissed.

Varian’s face fell slightly, but he tried to hide it with a smile. “Amren?”

“I can’t,” she breathed.

“It doesn’t have to be now, for now we could just talk about the idea of a child.” He lifted his hands to caress her face but she grabbed his wrists to stop him.

“I’m never going to be able to give you what you want, Varian.” She stood up and stepped away from him, releasing his wrists and looking away.

“I… This – okay then.” Varian’s shoulders slumped. “I’m happy with just you Amren. I always have been and I always will be.”

When Amren finally looked up, she didn’t see a man content with his relationship staying the way it was. She saw a man with tears in his eyes and a hand on his forehead. She saw a man whose hands were shaking slightly and whose cheeks had reddened. Varian was no liar, he meant what he said about her, or at least he thought he did. Sometimes, the person who knows your emotions best isn’t yourself. Amren looked away, covering her mouth with her hand to supress her emotion. Amren could see the truth between them like shadows dancing – Varian was already a father. A father, who because of her, did not, and never would, have a child. The last six hundred years had been the best of her miserable existence. They had been a light, love and happiness that she did not know possible, and it was because of the male in front of her. If she did not let him go now, then she would destroy him. She would shatter him into a million bitter pieces where not even one was capable of a selfless love. She would make him like her.

“This is it,” she said.

“This is enough,” he genuinely believed.

“No, it’s not.” Amren turned her back to him, her face crumpling. Amren prided herself on her control, so as the tears fell down her face it was just another reason for her to feel ashamed of herself. “This has to stop.” She whispered.

Varian came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his face in the crook of her neck. “I agree. I don’t want to fight with you. Let’s just go to bed, okay?” He kissed her neck, and it only made her cry harder. “You’re shaking,” he said with concern, tightening his arms.

“This is over.”

“Amren?”

She turned and because she was selfish and she loved him she kissed him one more time. She breathed the last of her soul into that kiss, tasting him for long enough that she prayed his essence would stay on her lips forever.

When it was over, she put her cheek to his and pulverized her heart. “We can’t be together anymore.”

As he stood there in utter shock, his eyes wide and mouth unmoving, she left him.

It was for the best. That’s the only thing that made her capable of walking out that door.

____

Varian stumbled into the palace of Adriata, guards yelling in concern as he did. The way he was walking and breathing made them think that Varian had been attacked, that somehow he was injured, but the reality was much, much worse.

The red marks his tears had marred down his face were so raw it looked like he had been clawed at. His breathing was so shallow and inconsistent that his sobs were no longer possible. His chest hurt so much that he had a hand clutched to it at all times.

As Varian crossed the threshold to the opening atrium, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He could hear people calling his name and feel their touch as they tried to make him stand, but nothing could be done. His eyes were glazed and he could see nothing but the blurred ivory marble floor.

How could this be? How could she be gone? What could he do to get her back?

Eventually, it was Tarquin and Cresseida that picked him off the floor, his cousin carrying him over his shoulder and taking him to his room at the palace. A healer was called, but after confirming that there was actually nothing physically wrong with him, she left. His two closest family members sat with him, his sister in tears with worry and Tarquin begging him to tell him what’s wrong. Varian could not find the words to say what happened with Amren, so he simply closed his eyes and hoped when he woke up he would have a miraculous answer on how to fix this mess.

____

“I know what happened,” Tarquin said as he passed Varian a tray of breakfast.

“How?” he croaked.

“I contacted Amren and she told me that she ended the relationship. But why? Varian, I had no idea you two weren’t happy. I wish you had told me so I could’ve helped you.”

Varian sat up in his bed, a pile of cushions behind him so he could easily lean and be comfortable. His throat was so dry from the night before that when he saw the glass of water Tarquin had for him he greedily drank it. His throat was still burning though, his whole body was, and he doubted it would end soon.

“We were happy. Or I was. I had no part in this decision.” If Varian closed his eyes, he could pretend that the night before had not happened. That he hadn’t been stupid enough to bring up the possibility of children when she was so obviously uncomfortable. He has such an ass, thinking that maybe if they talked it through she might be more open to the idea; instead, all he’d managed to do was push her away.

“What happened? You two have never seemed... I never thought you would end.” Tarquin asked hesitantly.

“I want children and she does not.” Varian whispered. The image he’d been picturing for a hundred years now was disintegrating in his mind. An image where he walked along the shore of Adriata with his child in his arms and his wife at his side. An image where together he and Amren taught their boy or girl to sail and fight and lead.

“At all? She seems to enjoy spending time with children. Maybe that maternity doesn’t spread to her own offspring.”

Varian was no idiot; he knew exactly why Amren wouldn’t want kids, and he should’ve thought of that before broaching the subject. “I think the more likely problem is that she doesn’t want to be pregnant. When it comes to her body… It has always been purely her own. She doesn’t eat certain things because she doesn’t like the thought of it being inside her, will only let certain healers treat her if she’s injured, doesn’t like it if people touch her without her explicit permission. I think she sees growing a baby as a violation to herself. Or, not a violation, but an intrusion. She would never be the same after that – that’s where the problem lies. And Cauldron, I can’t blame her for feeling that way. Thousands of years and she’s finally proud of the skin she walks in, I could never insist on taking that away. I’m such an idiot.” Varian groaned and put his face in his hands. He was so ashamed for thinking about his wants and desires before considering the impact it would have on her.

“Varian, just as there is nothing wrong with her not wanting to be pregnant, there is nothing wrong at all with you wanting children. Have you considered other options?”

“Like what?” Varian unintentionally snapped. “We could adopt, but where the hell would we find an unwanted child? Not even the Illyrians abandon their bastards anymore. Or I could make her endure a surrogate, what women doesn’t want to watch her man fuck another female? Mother above, we were in our twenties when we went Under the Mountain. I don’t know how to actually live without her, Tarquin. What am I – what am I going to do? I – I-” Varian’s tangle of words ended in a shaking sob.

Tarquin, having raised five children at this point, knew how to be soothing. He sat next to his cousin and best friend and put his arm around his shoulder, letting him cry into his shoulder while he smoothed back his hair.

“Do you want to be a father, Varian?”

“Yes,” he hiccupped. “But only with her. I could never look at another woman.”

“I might have a solution for you,” Tarquin offered. “But first I want you to take some time to yourself first, just give me a week and I promise I can give you at least one thing you want. Do you agree?”

“I’ll do anything,” Varian resigned.

Tarquin nodded and then left Varian with his food and guilt.

____

Amren had not left their home in over a week. Or was it now just her home? Varian had not come anywhere near it, she would know if he had. She had spent the miserable days without him alone, the only interaction she’d had with another person was when Tarquin had messaged her frantically to say something was wrong with Varian and she must come. She replied saying in time Varian would heal, and explained in a single sentence that they were no longer together. All it took was a single sentence, and suddenly the past six hundred years of her life were exactly that – the past. She would no longer wake up to Varian at her side every morning, would no longer sail the world on a whim, would no longer feel like she belonged in this world dominated by High Fae.

Her friends and family had come by desperately wanting her to let them in so they could help her, but she sent them away. This was a problem she needed to deal with on her own. The only person who could get through the wards she had laid around her home were Varian, and hopefully he had embraced the fact that he was better off without her.

She sat at her bay window, clutching a pillow to her chest and gazing out into the rolling sea. The way the moon shimmered off the thrashing waves reminded her of sunlight glinting of Varian’s hair, and it made her smile. When she looked at the stars, she only saw the constellations Varian had taught her while they were on the sea so that no matter where she was, she’d never get lost.

But what if I lose you? she had joked. When she was with him was the only time she allowed herself to be vulnerable, and under her joke hid a serious question and insecurity.

He had kissed her until she had forgotten her words, and made love to her until she knew for sure that the only way they would be parted was through death, and maybe not even then.

Amren’s gaze jolted away from the window as she heard a faint but insistent knock on the door. Who the fuck broke her wards? She was fuming. She didn’t care that her hair was a gritty mess on her head and that all she was wearing was one of Varian’s old shirts, she was ready to murder.

She stormed to her door and picked up a dagger on her way, fully prepared to throw it in the face of whoever was disturbing her. She threw open the door snarling, but went silent as she saw Varian in front of her. The dagger dropped to the ground with a clang, and she lowered her arm.

“Varian? What are you doing here?” She had a lot of things to be embarrassed about, but she found herself not caring that he was seeing her in this state. He had seen her at all her best and worst moments, and been there for her through every one. Surely, he could handle seeing her break down like this too.

“I have only two questions, and it could change everything. All you have to say is yes or no.” Varian looked put together. He was clean shaven and bathed, the scent of salt and lavender that followed him everywhere invading her senses. He had on a Summer Court suit made of fine whites, golds and greens, and he was adorned with golden jewellery.

She had lost the ability to produce coherent words so she just nodded. She didn’t think for one second that Varian’s appearance meant he was taking this easier than she was, but she was intrigued about why he had put so much effort in his lookds when he was just seeing her.

“Am I correct in saying that when it comes to us having a child, the obstacles have to do with pregnancy and birth more so than raising a child?” His eyes glimpsed up and down her. They were filled with longing and sorrow, likely mirrored in Amren’s.

“Yes.”

“If there was a way for us to have a child without having to conceive it, would you? With me?”

Amren had never considered this option. Adoption in Prythian was very uncommon. On the rare chance a child had no parents, someone else from the family would swoop in and take them to raise. After the war there had been a few children in need of homes, but that was quickly sorted. The Illyrians no longer abandoned bastard children, and even then Amren had no right as a fae to take one of them to raise for herself. Surrogacy, or a donor mother, was something that was beyond the bounds of possibility. For a fae to get pregnant was unlikely enough, let alone one who was willing to do so just to give the child away. And it also meant that Varian would have to intimate with another woman. Polyamory was something they had experimented with before, but only together. She didn’t think she could handle him being with someone else if she wasn’t there too. All it was, was another failed alternative.

“There’s no way-”

“Just answer yes or no. If we could have a child without you giving birth, would you do it?” His hands were the only part of him that betrayed how nervous he was about her answer. They were fiddling with his belt, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out her hand and stop his fretting with a kiss to his palm. But they couldn’t do that anymore. There was one thing she could do though.

“Yes,” she answered again.

His fingers stopped and a smile as wide as the Sidra graced his beautiful face. “I love you,” he breathed.

“That doesn’t change anything! I still can’t give you what you want. You have to have children, Varian. And when you find a female that you love and who can give you that you will be the best father in Prythian, but that woman can’t be me.” She stepped away from him and tried to close the door, but he stuck out his foot so it was in the way.

“If you come with me I can show you something that I swear you’ll want to see. You just have to keep an open mind.” He put his hand on the door frame and wedged himself further inside their home.

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on his cheeks. “I will never stop loving you, and I wish I was able to give you a child, wish I could watch you as a father to our baby but I cannot, and will never, get pregnant.”

He leaned forward and quickly kissed her. “You don’t need to.”

_____

Amren was led by Varian to Adriata’s palace. His steps were hurried and he never let go of her hand as he pulled her down the stone spiral staircase that led to the infirmary. She had no idea what was going on and knew that she should probably be nervous about whatever shenanigan he was going to lead her into, but his excitement made her slightly giddy.

Before she had left she had quickly thrown her hair into a bun and put on pants – the situation would probably require them. When they had made it to the infirmary, Varian bypassed the healer on shift and went straight to the room at the end of the hall. The stopped outside the door when he turned and kissed her again.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

He reached his hand out, it was trembling slightly, and opened the door.

The inside of the room was the nicest area Amren had ever seen in an infirmary. The navy drapes covering the walls made the room seem bigger and warmer, and the carpet was a bright red colour. There was a multitude of mahogany dressers lining the walls and in the exact centre of the room was a white cradle.

Amren stared at it, and Varian pulled her forward so she could see more.

Inside the cradle was a small infant, with white curls and lovely dark skin. The baby had pointy ears like the fae and tiny little hands and feet, which were kicking as the baby looked up at them. The baby’s eyes were the most precious green, like seafoam.

“She’s ours, if you want her.” Varian let go of Amren’s hand so he could pick up the little girl. She tucked into his chest, one of her hands making a fist as she grabbed onto his shirt. It was exactly how Tarquin’s daughter acted when held by her father.

“How?” Was all Amren could manage to say.

“One of our patrols found her near the border, completely and utterly alone. She couldn’t have been older than a few days and as hard as they tried to find her family they couldn’t. They waited to see if someone would come to claim her, and when no one did they informed Tarquin. Amren, don’t you see? We wanted a child, so the Mother gave us one.”

Amren’s breathing became unsteady as she looked at the small girl. “What if I’m a terrible mother?”

“You won’t be, I’m certain of it. Amren I’ve – I’ve already signed the certificates making her officially my daughter. We’ll wait for you, if you need some time.”

Amren knew from that statement that Varian was one-hundred percent in this, and his confidence in himself made her feel better about her being a parent too. Even if she did everything wrong, if she was absolutely terrible at being a mother, Varian would be good enough of a father to make up for it.

Amren walked forward and peered at the tiny baby, her green eyes staring curiously back. Amren put out a hand and ran a finger down her soft cheek, and in response the baby closed her eyes. And just like that, she was asleep.

Amren looked up at Varian and held out her arms. With a smile on his face, he handed the baby to her to hold. Amren shuddered a breath with the baby in her arms, and she knew the truth. This baby was her daughter, and she would try to be the best mother she could be.

“Our baby,” Amren sniffled.

“I love you.”

“I will never be able to thank you enough, my love.”

#amren x varian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fan fiction

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