#tamlin/reader

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin Week 2025 Statistics

This was such a hit last year, and we had a seriously amazing Tamlin Week, so here are the Tamlin Week 2025 Statistics by mod Reyna!

First of all, this blog broke 500 followers during Tamlin Week! We officially have over 500 Tamlin stans! Our instagram account, @the.calanmai, broke 100 subscribers. Thank you all for the support, Tamlin Week literally could not exist without you!

In all, there were 269 submissions for Tamlin Week from a total of 78 participants. This was a 46.2% increase and a 62.5% increase, respectively, from 2024. Let's start breaking down some of those submissions!

Table of Contents

Breakdown of 2025

2024 vs. 2025 Statistics

Shoutouts

Conclusion

Breakdown of 2025

Submissions Per Day

Day 7 had the most submissions, with 19% of the total (51 submissions), followed very closely by Day 2, with 50 submissions. Day 6 had the fewest submissions, with 9% of the total (24 submissions). The average number of submissions each day was 38 submissions.

Number of Submissions per Prompt

This year, we endeavoured to make the prompts for each day a little easier to use together, and people really took advantage of that! There is a huge spread across the board, with people utilizing the prompts on their own, as well as combining the day's prompts. Aside from the Free Day, the prompt with the most submissions was Dark Spring (29 submissions). The combination with the most submissions was Forgiveness/Change (24 submissions). The prompt on it's own with the fewest submissions was Chest (5 submissions), although most people seemed to enjoy combining it with the other prompt for the day, Biting.

Types of Fanworks Created

A majority of the submissions were fanfiction, which made up 43% of the total (115 submissions). The second most popular submission was fanart, with 36% of the total (98 submissions). Our miscellaneous category is 10% of the total (26 submissions), which is really cool! Quite a few people thought outside the box to make amazing submissions for Tamlin Week! This category includes playlists, videos, memes, and others! "Combinations" refers to submissions that combined a few of these types into a single submission.

Tamlin Ships Represented

Something that I have always appreciated about Tamlin fandom is how much content revolves around him as a character, and that is absolutely reflected in the breakdown of Tamlin ships that people made creations for. General Tamlin works absolutely dominated, making up 55% of the works submitted (149 submissions). Tamlin/Lucien and Tamlin/Rhysand are the most popular Tamlin ships submitted, with 11% (30 submissions) and 10% (28 submissions) of the total, respectively. There was a pretty even split among the other ships, and any ship with fewer than 1% of the submissions was combined in the "Other Ships" section. The diversity of Tamlin ships is really amazing, and pretty unique in Tamlin fandom!

2024 vs. 2025 Submissions

I thought it would be interesting to compare Tamlin Week 2024 to 2025, and boy was I correct! Because there were so many more submissions this year that last year, to properly compare each category I calculated the percentage of the total for the year that each category represents, rather than using the total number of submissions in each category.

Number of Submissions per Day: 2024 vs. 2025

There isn't a whole lot to be gleaned here, since the prompts between years were different, so interest in submitting on each day is going to be different. There's still some fun stuff! There was a noticeable difference in the number of submissions on Day 2 between 2024 and 2025, with an 18% increase in submissions. In 2024 the Day 2 prompts were Poet/Warrior, and in 2025 they were Dark Spring/Spring Celebrations & Mythology. Dark Spring was a HUGELY popular prompt, which probably explains the increase.

Day 6, on the other hand, saw a 29% decrease in submissions between 2024 and 2025. In 2024 the Day 6 prompts were Dreams/Fairy Tale AU, and in 2025 they were Spy/Warband.

Tamlin Ships Submitted: 2024 vs. 2025

Now we're cooking! It's very interesting to see the changes in which Tamlin ships have become more or less popular in the past year. To better understand this graph, I've calculated the percent change in the number of submissions for each ship, depicted below. The ships that have a percent change above the 0 axis are ones that had an increase in the number of submissions about them, and the ones below the 0 axis had a decrease in the number of submissions about them. The further they are from the 0 axis, the more dramatic the change between the years.

I think the most exciting thing here is the dramatic increase in popularity of Tamlin/Eris, with a 160% increase since 2024! The difference was between 11 submissions this year and 3 submissions in 2024, but still a dramatic increase! Lucien isn't the only Vanserra that Tamlin got his claws into this year! The increase in both General Tamlin and Polycules makes sense, considering that one of our prompts was Platonics & Polycules this year. We love to see it though! Our boy deserves all the love he can get!

The decrease in most of the other ships from 2024 to 2025 really is interesting. The decrease in the "Other Ships" category also seems to indicate that there weren't as many wild Tamlin crackships this year as there were last year. What I read from this information is that more people were interested in creating non-shippy content for Tamlin this year than ever before, which again is super amazing! That's not something a lot of character weeks can say, especially in this fandom.

What's REALLY interesting is that the number of submissions for the three most popular Tamlin ships with a woman (Tamlin/Feyre, Tamlin/Briar, and Tamlin/Rhysand's Sister) had very dramatic decreases from 2024 to 2025, ranging from a 60% decrease for Tamlin/Rhysand's sister, to a whooping 87% decrease for Tamlin/Feyre. More on that later!

Types of Fanworks Submitted: 2024 vs. 2025

Once again, I've found that the most informative way to view the change in the types of fanworks submitted each year is through looking at the percent change. There was a 61% increase in fanart created this year, which is just astounding! Visual art is freaking HARD, and there was an incredible amount of it created for Tamlin Week this year! There was also a 61% decrease in poetry submitted for Tamlin Week in 2025, which is kind of a bummer. We still made up for it with plenty of other submissions!

Number of M/M vs. M/F Ships: 2024 vs. 2025

This is a new, possibly contentious analysis I did this year. I separated out ONLY the submissions that had Tamlin shipped with one other person, and counted what percentage of the total of those were male/male (M/M) ships, vs how many were male/female (M/F) ships. Essentially, are people shipping Tamlin more with men or women?

In 2024, there were roughly an equal number of M/M and M/F ships in the submissions. In 2025, we suddenly get more than twice the number of M/M ships as M/F ships, with a 35% increase in M/M ships and a 37% decrease in M/F ships. This fits with the data we saw above, where all the popular M/F ships in this fandom had a dramatic decrease in the number of submissions. This really is an amazing thing to see in a fandom so focused on heterosexuality and straight ships!

Shoutouts

Every single person that participated in Tamlin Week is a hero to me. Most (if not all) of us have been harassed and called horrible names for liking Tamlin. Despite that, so many of you came together for this event, both by submitted creations, and by supporting each other. You are all the best!

That being said, we had some users go above and beyond for Tamlin Week! 19 tumblr users submitted works during both 2024 and 2025 Tamlin Weeks! Thank you guys so much for sticking around, and continuing to love Tamlin!

For the people who created 7 submissions (1 for each day), we have @copypastus, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @taymartiart, and @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken.

With 8 submissions, we have @lzrsaugust, @spore-loser, and @thornsinwinter.

With 9 submissions, we have @claws-and-all and @songofthesibyl. With 10 submissions we have @matrixsss and @booksnwriting.

And the number one submitter for Tamlin Week 2025 was once again Zee, @sonics-atelier! We love you Zee, you're amazing!!

Conclusion

My conclusion is that we love you, Tamlin fandom is the best, and Tamlin Week is the best ACOTAR week! Mwah Mwah, you're the best!

[achaotichuman]

Could I humbly request tamlin x reader headcanons. Pweese

Your humble request is gratefully accepted. These little head canons here are gender ambiguous because Tam-Tam is for the guys, the gals and the non-binary pals.

(Also sorry for this taking so long, for some reason I didn't see it until a couple of days ago.)

It takes months to get him to warm up to you, but once Tamlin is comfortable he doesn’t hold back affection or warmth. He’ll always keep a hand on your waist or hip, just to be able to touch you. 

Tamlin will share everything he loves with you. Nothing will be fun anymore unless you’re with him. His song-writing turns into poems and songs dedicated to you. His fiddle-playing is always for you to dance to. He’ll always want to take you horseback riding with him. He’ll show you every beautiful spot in the Spring Court. They will become both your spots. 

If you’re away for any period of time, he’ll spend every free moment thinking about you, writing songs and limericks for you. He’ll hide them in your room for you to find once you get back. 

If you ask, he’ll teach you to play the fiddle. He may fear for the safety of the fiddle, but he’ll try his best to be constructive. If you make a particularly screeching noise on it, he may tell you your hurting the poor instrument. 

He’ll try to bring back lizards he found in the forest. If you tell him he can’t bring them home he will give you puppy eyes and insist they are lonely and need a home, (he’s already named them and gotten attatched, so you have to let him keep them.)

He’ll lay with you in bed on rainy days, his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. He will whisper into your skin how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to have you, how much he loves you. 

Any and all gifts you give him, no matter how small and insignificant, he keeps. They are all displayed in his office. 

He’ll dance with you in the rain. When the water soaks you both to the bone, he’ll spin you around. When mud clings to both your clothes, he kiss you deeply, unable to stop touching you, unable to be away from you. 

You two sit in his office during long work days. He’ll finish work at his desk, you’ll help him some times, others you’ll sit in the chair near him reading. Sometimes he’ll stop work just to look over at you, how the light hits the side of your face, illuminating your skin and eyes. He’ll be unable to look away, when you notice his gaze he’ll tell you how beautiful you are. He’ll say it like the first time every time. 

He’ll surprise you will dates out in the forest all the time. Using magic, he will create beds of moss under trees, with platters of cheese and fruit. You’ll call him a romantic sap and he will roll his eyes, but you’ll both hold each other and fall asleep under the canopy of leaves. (Once a very big spider crawled onto your arm, but don’t worry, his name is Kevin, Tamlin knows him, he is incredibly polite and friendly.)

If excited or happy, Tamlin will pick you up and spin you around. Kissing you all over your face, you will laugh and Tamlin will think its the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. 

He cannot flirt with you for the life of him. He tried writing down a list of compliements which filled three pages, both sides, but when he tried to tell you even one, he froze and just said he liked the way your shirt looked. To this day neither of you quite know what he meant by that. 

Rhysand once came to the Spring Court, he wanted to taunt Tamlin some more. You watched as he waltzed into Tamlin’s office. Before a word could leave his mouth, you snuck up behind him and hit him in the head with a frying pan. Tamlin had to quickly grab you and put up a shield before Rhysand could retailiate. 

You once mentioned offhandedly how much you loved reading a particular series of books. Tamlin went out and bought every single edition he could find, and had an artist paint a portriat of every character. 

You love a particular kind of berry, Tamlin loves them too. Tamlin pretends to hate them so whenever they are on your plates at dinner, he gives them all to you. He loves the smile on your face a thousand times more than that berry. 

Once you were injured so badly you were on bedrest for weeks, you were taken to Dawn as they have the technology required to treat you. Tamlin stayed by your side the entire time. When you told him he had Court to rule, he told you the Court could wait, when you pointed out that was not how it worked, he told you he ruled the Court so yes that was how it worked. 

He lets you braid his hair, you put ribbions and bows in it. Tamlin will wear the absurd hairstyle everywhere, he is very proud of your handiwork. 

Sometimes Tamlin doesn’t truly believe that he is capable of being loved. The insecurities instilled him over centuries of trauma lurk to the surface. When this happens you grab his face and practically yell that you love him so much and nothing in the world will ever drive that away. Tamlin has to stop tears from falling from his eyes. 

You both like to sit atop of a tall mountain, beside a waterfall, over looking the Spring Court. You rest your head on his shoulder, he wraps a hand around your waist. You couldn’t be happier, neither could he. You tell him you love him, he kisses you and murmurs into your mouth that he loves you.

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[velarisdusk]

Slip into something daring and explore the courts this October. Don't be shy—knock on the doors of your favorite characters. Will you uncover a dark, twisted secret, or indulge in a sinful treat?

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author's note: this is my first ever kinktober!!! ideally, i'll be posting every day from october 1st through 31st, but i'm in school full-time so we'll see lol. these will vary in length, but will all be relatively short this is all 18+ (duh) so please mdni! enjoy! AO3 Link for Kinktober 2024

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

solo days (not reader insert; only 2 lol) will be denoted with a ☾

01 Praise

Sweet Surrender | Cassian x Reader | 732 words read here or on AO3

02 Caught Masturbating

In the Wake of Absence | Lucien x Reader | 2,892 words read here or on AO3 tags: friends to lovers (kinda? insinuated at least)

03 Edging

Before the Dawn | Tamlin x Reader | 1,232 words read here or on AO3 tags: established relationship

04 Virginity

Unveiled Pleasures | Rhysand x Reader | 4,272 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, friends to lovers, corruption

05 Begging

Whispered Echoes | Nesta x Reader | 1,064 words read here or on AO3

06 Mommy Kink

Shadows of Need | Azriel x Reader | 1,004 words read here or on AO3

07 Wet Dream ☾

Dreams of You | Cassian | 483 words read here or on AO3 tags: solo (not reader-insert)

08 Thigh Riding

Floral Reverie | Tamlin x Reader | 1,633 words read here or on AO3 tags: outdoors

09 Dacryphilia

Night's Cold Embrace | Rhysand x Reader | 2,032 words read here or on AO3 tags: dark!rhys, he's out here licking tears again guys someone get him

10 Bondage

Twisted Silk | Azriel x Reader | 1,242 words read here or on AO3

11 Degradation

Fallen Grace | Eris x Reader | 1,525 words read here or on AO3

12 Size Difference

In the Firelight | Cassian x Reader | 593 words read here or on AO3

13 Medical Play

Gentle Remedies | Elain x Reader | 1,065 words read here or on AO3

14 Boot Worship

The Crown's Command | Eris x Reader | 1,572 words read here or on AO3 tags: high lord!eris, dark!eris (cruel? dark? both? idrk)

15 Distracted Sex

Indelicate Distraction | Azriel x Reader | 2,232 words read here or on AO3 tags: this one's hot just trust, az is doing paperwork... uh huh

16 Impact Play

Searing Retribution | Cassian x Reader | 976 words read here or on AO3

17 Cum Plug

Bound by Flame | Eris x Reader | 1,009 words read here or on AO3 tags: undertones of a breeding kink, y/n's gotta make an heir

18 Orgasm Control

In the Stillness of Want | Rhysand x Reader | 1,302 words read here or on AO3 tags: consensual use of daemati

19 Cockwarming

Held in Silence | Cassian x Reader | 840 words read here or on AO3

20 Dollification

Made for Him | Azriel x Reader | 1,193 words read here or on AO3

21 Pet Play

Strings of Devotion | Eris x Reader | 1,308 words read here or on AO3 tags: there is use of a dog crate briefly so beware, im planning on a part 2 to this

22 Cuckolding

When the Stars Bear Witness | Cassian x Reader x Azriel, Rhysand | 2,032 words read here or on AO3 tags: established relationship (with rhysand)

23 24/7 Scene

The Weight of Expectation | Cassian x Reader | 1,398 words read here or on AO3

24 Predator / Prey

Breathe in the Quiet | Azriel x Reader | 2,214 words read here or on AO3 tags: stalker!azriel, dark!azriel, part 1 to Day 28: Captivity

25 Somnophilia

In the Glow of Serenity | Lucien x Reader | 2,399 words read here or on AO3 tags: y/n is drugged (for medical reasons), established relationship

26 Mind Control

Murmurs of the Abyss | Rhysand x Reader | 802 words read here or on AO3 tags: consensual use of daemati

27 Tentacles ☾

Garden of Eden | Tamlin | 2,007 words read here or on AO3 tags: solo (not reader insert)

28 Captivity

Breathe Out Your Sorrows | Azriel x Reader | 9,945 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, dark! az, dub-con, part 2 to Day 24: Predator / Prey)

29 Monsterfucking

Echoes of the Unruly | Tamlin x Reader | 3,119 words read here or on AO3 tags: beast!Tamlin

30 Dehumanization

Lament of Control | Rhysand x Reader | 1,027 words read here or on AO3 tags: dark!rhysand, CoN!rhysand

31 Fuck or Die

Subjugation | Lucien x Reader, Rhysand | 6,452 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, dub-con + non-con (it is both i swear), dark!rhysand, rhysand takes you and lucien hostage, kinda also rhysand x reader?, UtM, nonconsensual use of daemati

[ambivalence-is-me]

The Lost Princess

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Your life drastically changes after meeting Feyre. You don’t know how to help, you don’t know much of anything really so, how is your life going to be now? In a city you didn’t know existed with people you thought you hated.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: manipulation, perhaps some self-loathing issues, slow burn. This is just like a prologue of their first impressions of each other.

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Glinda from Wicked. I’ve been obsessed ever since I saw it. I wanted that sort of superficial clueless character vibe and this came out. I’ve got so many other ideas so just hear me out okay lol

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You were a fool. A useless fool...and they knew that.

But you didn't want to be one. No, you wanted needed to prove you weren’t a fool. Prove it to them and to yourself.

It wasn’t your fault, even if they didn’t know it but you knew that it wasn’t your fault you had been so...lost.

They didn’t know about all the lies and manipulation you’ve gone through at the hands of your brother.

Your brother, who was probably the one male after the King of Hybern that was so hated, the Inner Circle’s number two enemy..Tamlin.

Let’s backtrack a little...

You are nothing like Tamlin, personality and physically speaking. The only trait you two seemed to share is the shade of green eyes. Hair, facial features, even height, seemed to set you apart from him. And you’ve never been more thankful for it.

Personality wise, while Tamlin seemed to damper every path and flower he passed, you had the opposite effect. A true daughter princess of Spring. You were bubbly, carefree, perky and just so full of life. It had annoyed Feyre at the start. She met you a few days after she had been taken from the mortal lands and forced to live at the Manor. You seemed to appear out of freaking nowhere in a pink dress, small tiara on top of your head and on your face a mask that seemed to be of a dove, beautiful white and gold interlaced throughout it. It was all sunshine and rainbows as if you had come down in a freaking bubble or something.

It irritated Feyre how you walked around and interacted with everyone with such joy when everyone else, especially her, seemed to be on high alert and tense but that tension seemed to leave whenever your presence was by. Feyre couldn’t get any answers from you whenever you conversed. She wanted to know everything about the fae lands, including how to get out, anything but you just didn't know. And later you both learned that it hadn't been Amarantha’s fault but your brothers’.

During Amarantha’s reign you had lived in a bubble (methaphorically speaking). You couldn't remember why one day you woke up wearing a mask, one you couldnt get rid of or even think about why you were wearing it. You didn’t know who was the evil red female who had proclaimed herself High Queen of Prythian or what she had done to all the lands and its people. Nor did you know of your father’s involvement in killing Rhysand’s family and especially didn’t know how he (and your mother and brothers) had been murdered by Rhysand’s father. All of this had gone underperceived by you for decades.

Truthfully, you weren't even supposed to be alive but were meant to suffer your mother’s fate at the hands of Rhysand’s father. And after learning the truth and re-meeting Rhysand properly, looking at the pain and grief hidden behind his violet eyes, you knew it too.

Tamlin, seemingly perceptive of what was coming after what his father had done to Rhysand’s mother and sister, suggested to your father to send you away, hide you far away where they couldn’t find and murder you. It had worked but you couldn't remember where you had been or with who, that part of your life was as if never happened.

After becoming High Lord and Amarantha starting her advances, he went even further to secure your protection and took you somewhere where he knew the sort of people who lived there would help him make sure that you followed every word and instruction he gave. He had them put a spell on you, he had cursed you.

Cursed to forget about the death of your family, cursed to overlooked Amarantha, cursed dismiss the danger they lived in, cursed to believe and follow every word he said, cursed to refrain from thinking too much, to question things, cursed to be clueless. For years.

Feyre thought it was an act. How you looked at everything so positively and nothing could go wrong but then she knew that it wasn’t.

It was never an act, you truly were clueless, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just another one of Tamlin’s victims.

Thats why Feyre gave you a chance. Besides the fact that everything seemed to go over your head, you are a nice, caring, empathetic female. After she was Made, Feyre gravitated more towards you, preferred your company over Ianthe's, sought you out after arguing with Tamlin or Lucien and while you never understood what she had gone through, the trauma and burden she carried (because of the curse), you never turned her away.

Tamlin had noticed how deep your friendship had gotten. And since he knew Feyre was to be taken away at one point by Rhysand because of that stupid bargain, he knew he had to turn you against Rhysand so you could in turn continue to feed into Feyre’s apprehension of the High Lord of the Night Court. How did he do that? He told you the truth...well, some of it.

He revealed the death of your family. He emphasized how merciless it had been and how Rhysand was the only one to blame.

You cried...for hours you wept and screamed. Your mother, your beautiful mother was dead all this time. You had thought she was off in another court with your father accompanying him with some lord duties but instead she had been murdered in cold blood, and you didn't even know.

Feyre knew then that she much preferred to see you smiling and laughing than to see you so heartbroken, to hear your cries was devastating.

And Tamlin had succeeded.

You became so incredibly fearful of the Night Court’s High Lord that you begged Feyre to break the bargain, to never look his way, to hate the cruel and soulless male who had taken your family away from you. And in return, Feyre had hated Rhysand, hated him so much for making you cry, for dimming your light. She also had fallen under Tamlin’s trap. But of course, that all changed.

It changed when it didn't get any better for Feyre, when Tamlin’s actions were feeding into her pain, when he locked her inside the Manor. You of course had no idea he had done this; you didn't even recall when Morr had rescued her. You heard the explosion and when you arrived at the scene, Feyre was already gone. Tamlin had been furious and told you Rhysand was to blame, that he had kidnapped your friend and that he had to find and bring her back.

You, of course thanks to the curse, believed him and you were extremely worried for her. Fear ran through your body and you prayed everyday to the Mother that no harm would come to her, that she weren’t suffering your mother’s fate.

Months passed and you remained none the wiser to what was happening outside the Manor’s walls. Whispers of war roomed the halls, some kind of Hybern involved, you hardly saw your stressed brother. Lucien being the one to accompany you at times for dinner. But he never revealed anything, of the war, of Feyre and you continued to stay clueless and out of the loop.

It wasn’t like you didn't want to know or that you didn't try. You did, you tried to ask around, to the servants, the sentries, but they all knew the spell you were under and knew better than to reveal anything Tamlin didn't want you to know. And you hated it. You felt so frustrated that you were doing meaningless things around the Manor while your friend, your only friend, was off in another court probably being tortured and you weren't doing anything to help her. After Tamlin had popped part of your bubble, you felt the need to be more hands on but you just didn't know where to start. At one point, you tried writing down the whispers you heard, along with questions you had, or any information obtained, and you tried to piece it all together by yourself. But nothing made sense. Nothing would continue to make sense when your brother had the power to take knowledge away from you.

Everything started to change for you with Feyre’s return. You were delighted that she was back, that your brother had rescued her from the Night Court. You hugged her so hard that for a second Feyre had forgotten her plan to ruin Tamlin. She remembered all the time both spent together, remembered and felt the care you had for her. And it was then that she knew that somehow she had to convince you to run away with her, to help you ruin your brother. After all of the things she went through in Velaris, all the knowledge and new perspective she gained, Feyre recognized you to be another prey fallen into Tamlin’s claws.

And you needed to get out. But by then, she didn’t know of the curse that was befallen on you. All she knew is that you believed every little word Tamlin uttered, that you blindly followed his every instruction, and she couldn't believe how she had never pieced the pieces together before. So, with more conviction than ever, under the wards and glamours in her bedroom at the Manor, Feyre told you everything. Of Amarantha's curse, what your family had done to Rhysand, what Tamlin did to her, of Velaris and the Inner Circle, Hybern, her mating bond, her sisters being Made and even of her plans to destroy the Spring Court. Slowly, Feyre took off the blindfold that had been forcedly put on you for decades. She talked and you listened, tears running down your face, for hours. Well into the night and again when the sun came up.

It was extremely difficult to believe her. How could you? When everything she was saying went against everything your brother had told you. Feyre knew that risk, that you wouldn't believe her but she held nothing back. She answered all your questions, worries and even hugged you.

You promised Feyre you wouldn't tell a word to anyone of what she had expressed. And you kept that promise but it didn't mean that you still full heartedly believed her. You wanted to, something inside you was screaming that it was the truth and that you had been an idiot to believe Tamlin.

But you couldn't understand, if Feyre was telling the truth then, why Tamlin had lied? Why had he kept so much from you? Tamlin, your older brother who fiercely protected you when you were a child, would read to you at nights, played with you, gave you attention when the rest of your brothers only ignored you. He was your favorite brother, your first hero, the first male you had told ‘’I love you’’ too. How can you change this image you have of him so fast when for all of your life he had been your rock? How can someone who claimed to love you do the complete opposite of love? You couldn't understand.

But then you remembered he lied about your family’s death, kept that from you. And using the same train of thought then that means, yes he could have hid so much more from you. And before making any decision in regards to following Feyre, you tried, just one more time, to get information out of your brother.

You asked him one question ‘’How did you find Feyre?’’.

He had looked up at you and said : ‘’It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now and that she’s safe. Keep her company and help in whatever she needs. You will do that right, sister?’’.

The spell made you nod without you even being aware that you were nodding and replied ‘’Of course, brother. I will help Feyre with anything she needs.’’

He smiled and dismissed you.

That did it for you. You couldn't explain why you had accepted his truth so fast, why you didn't question him further, why your mind seemed to be battling itself. It was maddening.

And so, you agreed to be part of Feyre’s plan to run away. She told you she was to accompany Lucien, the twins and Jurian to the forest. As per usual, you were expected to stay in the Manor while everyone did, well, everything else. But this time, when everyone left, you were to grab a bag with essentials and leave. Feyre pointed out a meeting spot where you were to wait for her there and then continue the path to the Night Court.

It was the most terrifying thing you had ever done.

‘’What about my guard?’’ You asked her, worried about your escape since Tamlin had appointed a sentry to be your guard whenever he or Lucien weren't in the Manor.

‘’I’ll take care of it. Just meet me there and wait. No matter what you hear, wait for me there. I will come find you, I promise’’.

And she had been right. Whatever she had done to your guard well, she took care of it since there didn't seem to be any near you, making your exit far smoother than you expected. Even if inside you were terrified, every neuron in your brain screamed at you to go back inside the Manor and wait for Tamlin. But you pushed through, for Cauldron’s sake did you push through. Every step away from the Manor, from Tamlin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, making it hard for you to continue, as if there was an invisible force trying to pull you back (the curse).

When you made it to the meeting point you cried. You were feeling an immense amount of fear of this new life you were heading towards to. You were also feeling proud of yourself for committing and making it there but then the fear came back when hours went by and there was no sign of Feyre. You waited, just like you said, no matter if you were terrified of being alone in the woods. In the same woods you now knew ran part of Amarantha’s creatures. You were honest to the Mother about to piss yourself out of fear when you heard her. Feyre, she was coming. And she was not alone.

Lucien ran with her and they both looked worse for wear. You barely managed to speak when she grabbed your hands and urged you to run, tagging you along with them. You saw Lucien’s expression; he was probably confused by your involvement in all of this and he was worried of what would happen to you since he knew of the limitations of the curse. And yet, he stayed quiet and ran along with you both.

It was extremely hard for you to keep along with them. They were fighters, they were fit, they’ve been in battle before, but not you. You were just..well...a princess. You knew nothing of survival or fighting skills and they all knew that but they also knew they couldn't stop if they wanted to stay alive, to fulfill Feyre’s plans.

And made it you had.

With some great trouble along the way involving Lucien’s brothers but thankfully two Illyrian soldiers quite literally fell from the sky and rescued the three of you out of there.

Azriel and Cassian, Feyre had introduced.

And you of course took one look at them and nearly fainted. You were trying so hard not to show your fear but knew you were failing spectacularly. You’ve heard of their kind, from your father and Tamlin, of how ruthless they were, how they had no respect for females and enjoyed tearing them apart. But no, Feyre trusted them, had expressed there was nothing to fear, that they wouldn't harm you. And while everything inside you that was holding you back in Spring was telling you that it was a lie, you tried and believed her.

And now here you were. In this city you’ve never heard of, in a court where only bad things have been said, with only two other faes you knew, surrounded by others who apparently aren't evil at all. After all, in their eyes, you were the evil one, you were the villain in their story.

You met them all, the inner circle and they all stared at you. It was clear that they didn't trust you nor Lucien. But the way they treated you was different. With you it was like they didn't know how to treat you, as if they didn't know what to do with you. And well, you didn't know what to do with you either.

You were a fool, a useless fool.

They figured that out the moment Morrigan began asking questions and all you did was stare at her, mouth a bit open. Because of course, you didn't know the answer to any of her questions and you could see they were growing exasperated with you.

They all showed it differently. Rhysand hadn't met your eye once since you’ve been in the room, his jaw firm and looking anywhere else but you. The Morrigan vividly rolled her eyes at you and instead moved her attentions to Lucien. A smaller female than you with silver glowing eyes had taken one look at you and shook her head. Cassian, the big male with long hair and red jewels, was openly glaring and eyeing Lucien with distaste. And then, Azriel.

The most handsome male you’ve ever seen in all your life. While Rhysand and Cassian were also handsome, Azriel was a different type of handsome. One you couldn't quite explain. The best way your heart could capture it was by thinking that he was like the prince you always thought you’d end up married to. The handsome male described in those romance books you read. The one you hoped had a dazzling personality you longed for, to swept you off your feet and leave you breathless. And he did definitely leave you breathless but not in the way a female wants.

Right off the bat you’ve noticed that Azriel was quiet, the quietest of them all. He seemed to be analyzing everything, blending into the shadows that followed his every breath. And although he hadn't spoken your way once, his body language screamed that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And that hurt.

These people didn't owe you anything. On the contrary, you were the one invading their home, their safe space, you were the enemy so the least you could do is...what? Exactly what were you expected to do?

This only seemed to aggravate you further.

They don't know you, they don't know your heart, quite frankly besides existing, you’ve done nothing to harm any of them. Your hands and your heart were clean. And you didn't know this but that is exactly why Azriel, Rhysand and the rest had a hard time looking your way and accepting you.

You’ve done nothing. While they’ve gone through hell and back, what have you done? In their minds, you’re just a perfect little princess that can do no wrong.

And were they? Were they wrong? They weren't. Tamlin made sure you stayed pure, innocent, protected from danger so that you didn't need to lift a finger if you ever needed anything. But that was it, all your life had been dictated by someone else. Your thoughts, opinions and ideals were implanted by Tamlin.

It was time to start thinking of your own, to start creating a life of your own without Tamlin’s influence.

Without his curse.

The curse that only Lucien knew the existence and Feyre suspected of.

It was time to start battling everything you’ve been taught and fight for what you want. While you still needed to figure out what exactly it is that you want, you were going to do it. It was time to prove to yourself and to these new people that you were capable of more, of being more than just a foolish lost princess.

How were you going to do it? You had no idea, but you hope that the beautiful male with hazel eyes and scarred hands would wait long enough for you to give you a chance or perhaps, he could be the one to help you.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Way Down We Go

Lucien x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

Summary - Basically Lucien smut with very little plot

Warnings - fluff, smut (p in v), forbidden love, oral (f!receiving), slight breeding kink, Lucien being the man of my dreams xo

Water baby.

Lucien had always called you it, and at first you had found it rather patronising, but you soon warmed up to the sweet pet name he had bestowed to you.

There had been countless occasions where he would stroll through the gardens of the Spring Court manor and find you idly floating in one of the ponds or fountains. Lucien would stand at the waters edge silently, enjoying the way the water made your dress stick to your skin and turn it almost translucent to the point where he could make out the faint peaks of your nibbles beneath the fabric. That wasn't his favourite part, no, it was the serene smile that would always form upon your lips.

Sometimes you would open your bright eyes and find him stood there, and you'd engage in conversation with him, polite and elegant as always. But other times you wouldn't open your eyes at all, and Lucien had often stood there until he was called away, enjoying the joy etched onto your face.

No one knew what drew you to the water. Tamlin had always teased you about it, telling you to go and drown whenever you had a spat to which you'd simply flip off with your usual level of sarcasm and ire. It had always caused Lucien to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.

Being Tamlin's sister meant that you were off-limits to him, even Tamlin had said that Lucien was not worthy of someone so light and perfect as you. Coming from Spring, it had made sense that you were at one with nature, not only were you a shifter like your brother and father, but you were also able to manipulate the earth, to sprout flowers in the palms of your hands and grow trees with a single thought if you required a touch of shade whist you floated in the streams.

Animals also adored you, bounding from the forest if they caught a speckle of your scent, one of early morning sunlight and lilies. It wasn't rare to see you lying in the grass with a school of new-born fox pups basking in your glow, stretching across your stomach as you read beneath the willow tree atop the mound to the west of the large estate.

"Why does everyone think that she's so perfect? She's a pain in the ass," Tamlin asked to no one in particular as he stared out of the window, catching a glimpse of you trapsing through the gardens with a fox in tow dressed in a sage green ensemble that brushed over your shoulders to expose your dainty freckles to the air.

Lucien hummed in reply, "Because she is perfect," he told his friend and High Lord, chuckling at the eye roll from Tamlin as he mumbled that he knew that you were, but that didn't mean that you weren't a pain in the ass.

To everyone else, you were the Daughter of Spring, a fair and benevolent creature that the fae genuinely believed was a decedent of the gods, maybe even the Mother herself. But to those within the manor, you were a rebellious thing, consistently pushing the limits of your freedom. Alis enjoyed your spirit far too much.

So did Lucien.

Tamlin had excused himself to patrol the boarder shortly after, fixing his green riding jacket to his frame and untucking his hair from the collar, leaving Lucien alone within the dining room.

Shortly after his departure, you entered the ornate dining space where Lucien sat reading over reports with a book between your fingers. You glanced about the room, noticing his arched brow of inquiry before closing the doors behind you and turning the lock; you crossed the gleaming oaken floor, enjoying the manner in which Lucien leant back in his chair and parted his legs, watching each step you took like a predator assessing its prey.

There was no denying Lucien's beauty. Everything he was, you beheld. The long red hair that you often braided when you were alone, braids that he would fight to keep in place and when a singular one would unwind he would find any reason to visit you and have you fix it. The russet orbs that glimmered in the sunlight made you weak. Then there was the issue of his body, his perfectly sculpted and muscular body that was so alluring that it was difficult to not be wrapped around him at all times.

Sighing, you nestled yourself onto his thighs, hitching your skirt around your waist as you shuffled to make yourself comfortable, you draped your arms lazily around his neck, lowering yourself to capture a chaste kiss from his lips, "Has Tamlin ventured from the estate?"

Lucien smirked at your words, his body tingling from the sensation your lips next to his ear brought him, "You know that I despise it when you talk about your brother when you're sat on me, my love."

His large hands rested on your hips, keeping you steady as your body straddled him; you laughed at his words, his humour matching your own, and you sank further down on him, feeling his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his briefs, "Would you rather I got off?" Your voice was light and held a level of teasing to it, and you slowly began to dismount Lucien, stopping in your tracks when his grip tightened and held you in place.

"Well I never said that," Lucien leaned forward, his hands travelling up to rest on the centre of your back despite the table cushioning your weight from behind. His finger traced down your throat all the way down your sternum, pausing at the corset of your dress that he had heard you complain of that morning, stating that Alis had secured it too tightly to your figure.

A wickedly feline glint consumed his stare, his finger dipped into the corset that was so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against the digit and leaned further to capture your lips against his, trailing kisses along your jaw until he found that certain sweet spot beneath your ear.

Emitting a breathless moan, you threw your head back as his lips worked their way to the curve of your breasts, "We can't. What if Tamlin comes back?"

"Let him," Lucien idly pulled at the strings of your corset, tugging each rung loose as he spoke against your skin, "I'm not the one who has the issue telling Tamlin that we're mates." Lucien continued to kiss along your breasts and collarbone, softly sucking and nipping at the skin.

"He'd be furious," you ground down on his lap, a low growl emitted from his lips, so low and dangerous that it made heat pool between your legs.

"I. Don't. Care." Lucien lifted you into the air and set you down atop the table, standing between your open legs and taking your head in his hand, willing it to the side to give him better access to the neck that haunted his dreams.

"Luc," you breathed, feeling weak under him, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the corset holding your breasts in place so that he could dip his head low and swirl his tongue around your right nipple.

That simple action had your back arching against him, and Lucien smirked at the scent of your arousal infiltrating his consciousness.

Lucien indulged the unconvincing scolding, planting his palms either side of you and pulling back slightly, "What is it, baby? Do you want me to stop?" Lucien drifted the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own, enveloping you in his scent, in the same scent that you had both worked hard to glamour from your brother.

"Gods no," your mouths collided in a battle of lips and teeth, Lucien captured your bottom lip between his canines and used the action to prise your mouth open just enough for his tongue to roll against your own; his hands slid up your thighs and rested just inches away from where you needed them to go, his thumbs dragging over your skin teasingly.

"That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips, his rough toned voice making your core clench with need, you always loved it when he called you that, his girl, and the damned bastard knew it.

Lucien's lips trailed from your mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses across your breasts that were exposed thanks to his handiwork at unfastening your corset and pulling it down your arms so that all you wore was your dress around your waist. You were the most magnificent creature he had ever seen, and you were his, his until the day you both ceased to exist.

Your mate dropped to his knees, looping his arms under your legs and pulling you to the edge of the table. His warm breath swept between your thighs as his eyes dropped to meet your core that was begging for his touch, "Always so eager," the vibration of the words against his lips made you shudder, realising how close he truly was from tasting you.

Without waiting for your reply, he ran his tongue up your folds, humming at the decadent taste of you on his lips and your body jolted at the touch. His tongue swirled around your clit, assessing the perfect spot he knew would have you screaming his name in a matter of minutes and pressed a light kiss to the area, smirking at the breathless moan that escaped your lips. "Luc, please," you whined, his hands had pried your legs apart and had moved to grasp onto the flesh of your ass, spreading you to give him better access.

Lucien attached his lips to that bundle of nerves, winding his lips around it and sucking gently, flicking his tongue against it and running a finger through your folds, "So needy," he mumbled against you.

Arching your back from the table, you slid your fingers into his hair, gently tugging him closer and moving against his face, rolling your hips against the graceful and fire-tinged flick of his tongue against you. It was so sinful, to have his head buried between your thighs pulling every moan and mewl from you that he could whilst you lay on the table where you had dinner each night, nipples piqued upward toward the ceiling and juices coating the table edge.

Your mate sensed your urgency, mainly from the way you were grinding against his tongue; Lucien coiled his fingers around your thighs, keeping your legs in place despite your writhing against the table and fingers clawing against his scalp with desperation. It didn't take him long to find the specific spot that had you crying out, he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them inside and curling them upward to meet the rough spot inside of your walls, keeping a steady pace when you cried out his name to the skies; a hot white heat consumed your body, his fingers stretched you deliciously, preparing you for what was to come.

But Lucien was a gentleman, he always made sure that your pleasure came first, and he was happy to serve you in whatever way you needed him to.

"Tell me," he pressed a kiss to your folds, smirking at the jolt the touch sent through your body before rising and pulling you upright to meet his chest. One of his hands cupped your jaw, making your cock-dazed eyes find his whilst his other unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his briefs, pulling his cock from the fabric and pumping it twice in his fingers, "Do you prefer the stars above or the ones I make you see?"

It wasn't a question that you needed to answer, you couldn't anyway, your mind still calming from the orgasm that had ripped through it only moments before; your legs still quaked as he settled himself between them, running the tip of his cock through your folds and capturing the slick left in the wake of his tongue ravaging you. Lucien trailed his lips along your shoulder, tasting your sun kissed skin and pecking against the herds of freckles that appeared when the sun was strongest.

Capturing your lips against his own, Lucien pushed into you, pushing until he was hilted and waiting a moment for you to adjust, your walls quivering around him threatening to become undone within a matter of minutes. A low growl fell from him, his fingers raked through your hair and he rolled his hips, thrusting so slowly that it allowed you to feel every single inch of his cock stretching your walls. Lucien's movements quickened slightly but it was still torturous to endure, but you loved the feeling of having him inside of you too much, the way he rocked his hips into you, the way his fingers coiled around the base of your neck and the way his lips pressed sloppy kisses on your mouth. All of it was enough to drive you irrevocably wild.

The frenzy had come and gone, you had decided to accept the bond during a time when you knew Tamlin would be gone for long enough for Lucien to be able to act somewhat normal around him. You had spent two weeks in that bed being fucked by fire, and even if you did rise from the comfort of the bed against his wishes, Lucien would always find you and drag you into the nearest cupboard, pinning your chest against the wall and taking you from behind without a single care as to who could have seen him or heard your mewls.

Though, the desire for him to be always buried inside of you had never faltered, and he would make sure to visit you nightly to remind you of that fact, even if he had to climb up the vines outside of your window to stay undetected.

"You look so good with my cock in you," Lucien's voice was low, his hands cupped your face and he moaned at each thrust you met with your hips; he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips, red and puckered from the onslaught of his mouth, neck coloured from his possessive markings.

The table groaned against the ground, rocking with every movement as Lucien's pace hardened, part of him eating itself alive to stay inside you for as long as possible, but the other part of him anxious about Tamlin returning a minute too early and tearing him to shreds.

"Do you know how much I love you?" You panted through the moans Lucien was drawing from your pretty little mouth and ran your fingers up his arms, setting his nerve endings on fire with the lingering touch of your fingers against his skin, tracing the muscles sculpted by the gods.

"Tell me," his fingers lightly wrapped around your throat, pulling your chest to his, making your eyes peer upward through their lashes at the perfect male rolling into you whose own gaze had darkened at your question.

Lucien's other hand travelled between your legs, his index finger circling around your clit and causing your breath to catch in your throat that bobbed against his grip. Lucien repeated his order, his grasp tightening around your neck and pace quickening so that you could hear your skin sounding against his, "I love you so much that I would walk away from this life to live in the middle of nowhere with you, just us, a life of our own." Lucien groaned at the image, returning home from catching fish in the streams with his bare hands to his perfect mate and even more perfect babes, "I love you so much that the thought of being with child, your child, brings me nothing but serenity," you widened your eyes deliciously, doe-like and innocent, knowing what those words did to him, "You can give me what I want, can't you?"

Lucien's resolve was fading, and the grunts that were sounding from him were edging you closer and closer to one of your favourite places. His index finger continued drawing soft mewls from your lips, your walls tightening around his cock as it slammed continuously into you, surely cracking the legs of the table with each movement, "Yes. I can," his hand moved to the back of your neck, forcing your lips to meet his in a symphony of desire and adoration, and the final few circles of his fingers had you coming undone within moments.

A white hot flash poured through you, had you crying out against his lips, and the convulsions of your walls drew Lucien to the same fate. Lucien fucked you with the fire you had always wondered about long before you had found out that you were mates, his moans delicious enough to send you into a haze as he emptied himself into you, continuing to roll into you to fuck his seed in as far as it could go, determined to give you what you desired.

Lucien's movements slowed, the feral beast tamed and locked deep within him, and he lowered his face to catch your lips once more, not wanting to remove himself from you like usual, but for a different reason this time. He pressed his forehead to yours, russet orbs staring into your own with a type of wonderment you hadn't seen before, "You'd give it all up, for me?"

"I'd give anything for you," and it was true, a life without Lucien wasn't one you wanted to live, so if Tamlin did find out and exile him, you'd follow. The simple life became much more appealing each passing day. "And, to answer your question," you ran your fingers down the contours of his arms and up his chest, curling them over his shoulders, "I think I much prefer the stars you make me see."

Lucien threw his head back and laughed, a smile so beautiful and bright that it could be the most perfect thing you'd ever see in your entire life, and certainly your most favourite thing in the universe.

Lucien's laughter dimmed and his eyes found you again, his hands worked seamlessly to pull your dress back up over your arms, kissing every inch of skin of your shoulders as he tied the corset against your skin, though, he removed your panties from your legs, folding them into his pocket and smirking at your inquisitive arched brow, "I'm not done trying to put my child in you just yet."

Authors Note

I go delulu for my Lulu x

[geniemillies]

i will never be convinced on rhysand the better high lord when tamlin opened his court to refugees during amarantha's reign, began celebrating festivities that didn't belong to spring just so they'd feel at home, played for them too with his silly fiddle omg, refused to send his people beyond the wall until he was desperate, felt them die because their bond as subject and high lord was just too great (sarah's words not mine), even buried a lesser fae in his court after he was brutalized by amarantha, dug the ground with his haaaands, said lesser fae wasn't even his subject but he offered him peace and company during his death anyway. then there's mister change takes time over here, has his people living in harsh conditions in camps, under a mountain where they cannot leave because they're more weapons than people. so if you were born anywhere in his court that's not velaris sucks to suck i guess.

don't even get me started on his family being in charge while he was gone for 50 yrs because their circus troupe didn't do squat either. cassian is a privileged boy who has lost all emotional connection to his own people. idk what azriel does besides do a job he doesn't even want to do and mope around i guess. morrigan hates her people, morrigan 'i'm the exception, everybody evil except for me and i will make no effort to change anything bc im too pretty for that'. amren. amren wtf even is she doing in the night court. not even from the lands and she's already named second in command, that's all i have to know about the high lord. what is she commanding? *in damian's voice* she doesn't even go here!!!

tamlin did more for spring and people from other courts in those fifty years than the ic will ever consider doing for the night court. morrigan couldn't lift a pinkie, if you mention doing anything for hewn city she'd start whining throwing up waa waa waa, grown ass woman. cassian kisses the dirt rhysand steps on, if he says bark he out here 🐕. amren is just there for shits and giggles. azriel.

so if anyone sat on their asses it's rhysand and his ragtag group of powerful people who don't do shit with it. illyrians still suffer in the camps, hewn city still trapped in a mountain where abuse is the norm. and they aaaalll stiiill haaaate youuur aaaasss 💥💥💥💥💥

[inkedinshadows]

Calanmai

Day 28: Breeding kink — Tamlin x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex

Word count: 1.507

A/N: sorry again for the delay in posting this one. I’m not sure about how this turned out, I honestly don’t know what to think of it. It's not exactly what I wanted it to be, but it also is what I wanted? Idk, I have no idea lol

Tamlin had warned you about Calanmai. He explained what it was and what he was required to do, and he made sure you knew you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to. But you had stood by each other’s side since the day you met months ago, and you weren’t about to abandon him now.

Especially because you knew he hoped you would be there, even if he never said it and left the choice to you. And you wanted to be there. You wanted to see this part of him, too, and love it as much as every other part.

You stood among the faeries lining the path that led to the cave where the ritual would take place. They were all female, all waiting for Tamlin’s arrival and hoping to be chosen.

Would he choose you? You had no way of knowing for sure. It was the magic flowing through him tonight that would make the choice, not him. But you pushed the thought away, unable to stomach the idea of him with some other girl. Even more so because he had told you he needed to “complete the rite inside the chosen one.” You needed it to be you.

The drumming picked up rhythm and volume until it was an almost deafening frenzy. Swaying on your feet alongside the others, you resisted the urge to cover your ears and instead focused on the other end of the path, where every faerie—lesser or High Fae—had gone utterly still.

You felt the thrum of power before you saw him, and when he appeared, he looked like a god.

Tamlin wasn’t wearing a shirt, his muscled chest painted with swirls of blue ink that shimmered in the light of the bonfires. His hair was unbound, and a crown of golden leaves rested on the top of his head. His back was rigid, his stride long and unhurried as he surveyed every faerie gathered just for him. A part of you swore he was looking for someone specific.

But what if you were wrong? What if he wouldn’t pick you? The question crawled its way into your mind, and this time, you couldn’t shake the concern—not when you heard the girls next to you sigh dreamily. You couldn’t blame them, but something churned in your stomach.

Suddenly, Tamlin stopped in his tracks. He seemed to smell something in the wind, and then his head snapped in your direction, his eyes immediately locking on yours amidst the crowd. You held your breath as he stalked closer, and only when he stood in front of you did you realize what he meant when he said he wouldn’t be himself tonight.

His pupils were blown wide, his short fangs exposed, just like his claws. Even his beautiful features seemed more animalistic than usual—sharper. There was nothing soft in his face, nor in his voice, as he snarled, “Y/N. Come with me.”

Every worry disappeared the moment he grabbed your wrist and headed for the entrance of the cave, not bothering to glance back to check if you were keeping up.

You followed silently as he led you deep into the hillside, the rock walls illuminated by only a few lanterns casting long shadows. Tamlin stopped after a turn in the tunnel and pointed to several blankets laid out on the ground.

“That’s where I’m going to take you,” he growled.

The sound trembled down your body, a shiver of anticipation and excitement coursing through you at this new version of him. He pulled you closer until your chest pressed against his. The paint smeared on the front of your dress, but you were too caught up in his eyes to notice.

You caressed his cheek as you normally would, and something softened in his gaze, if only slightly.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, but there was a light tremor in his voice that revealed just how much he was struggling against the magic of the land.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

As if the word were a trigger, the softness you had glimpsed disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only that feral, lustful gaze. His mouth descended on your neck, and he bit the tender spot where it met your shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood, but enough to make you yelp at the jolt of pain. Yet, there was a sort of tenderness to it all—the way he soothed the spot with his tongue before he pulled back, how his claws retracted until they were nothing more than sharp nails so he wouldn’t hurt you.

Tamlin was already panting, a victim to whatever greater power flowed through him. His cock was straining in his pants, and you reached for it, palming him through the fabric. He flinched, as if not used to being touched in such a situation.

“Let me,” you murmured.

He bared his teeth in another growl. “Later.”

He was on you again, kissing you with such hunger that a moan escaped your lips. He dragged a short claw over the laces at the back of your dress and the fabric soon slipped off your body. You shivered as the cold air of the cave hit your skin, and a guttural groan came from Tamlin at the sight of your peaked nipples.

For a moment, you caught another glimpse of your beloved High Lord in his eyes when he helped you lay down on the blankets. But soon, his clothes joined yours, and he was back in the grip of the magic-induced frenzy.

The male that would normally murmur sweet nothings and soft praises as he pleasured you was gone. This Tamlin kept silent while he spread your legs and lowered his mouth to your cunt. His thumb drew tight circles on your clit, making sure to use just the pad and avoid scratching you with the sharp nail. Your eyes closed as he lapped at you, but he stopped shortly after—once you were wet enough for him to slide in effortlessly.

He thrust into you with a single roll of his hips and you cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth when he kissed you again. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, fingers digging into your thighs, and you welcomed the slight twinge of pain, relishing in the knowledge that he would leave little marks on your flesh. By the time the night was over, you hoped there would be many more all over your body.

Tamlin looked like he couldn’t get enough of you. He was nibbling on your neck one moment and sucking on your nipples the next, and then his mouth was on yours again. Yet his pace never faltered, pounding into you relentlessly as if his very life depended on it.

“Tam,” you whimpered. You held on to his broad shoulder, your hands smudged with the blue paint that was now also smeared on your breasts. “Gods, this is—”

“I’m not stopping,” he interrupted you with a snarl. “I need to come inside you to complete the ritual.”

His words were accentuated by a deeper thrust that had you almost screaming, but concern about him stopping was actually the last thing on your mind. You knew that already and you wanted him to come inside. A primal, hidden part of you wanted—needed—him to breed you.

“That’s not what I—” you tried again, but Tamlin was too lost in the magic.

He growled and kissed you, teeth slightly sinking into your lower lip. His hips slammed into you faster, harder, and you were soon arching beneath him as you neared your climax.

“I’m about to come, princess.” His voice was barely recognizable. “I’m going to fill you up.”

“Yes… yes, please,” you whined. “Breed me, Tam. Put a baby in me.”

His grip on your thighs grew tighter, his thrusts became frantic and he came with a roar that echoed off the cave, spurting hot seed inside you. The sensation pushed you over the edge and you reached your own orgasm just a few seconds later. You clenched around him and as you did, you felt a wave of power shake the ground beneath you and expand all around.

“The ritual,” Tamlin muttered. He sounded more like himself now, though the animalistic growl lingered, along with the unnatural glint in his green eyes.

You went limp beneath him after coming down from your high, but Tamlin was still moving, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, pushing his cum deeper inside you.

“We’re not done yet,” he warned you. His hands let go of your legs to roam up your body and cup your breasts. “That was just the bare minimum we had to do.”

You were still panting, but you offered him a smile. He had told you that too. The Great Rite could take hours, if not the whole night.

“Then keep fucking me, High Lord.”

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[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[slytherin-pen]

Ruler For A Day

pairing: Tamlin x Reader x Lucien

word count: 1k

warning: none, this is fluffy af

a/n: written for day 1 of @polysjmweek

If anyone asked, you’d insist it had all started as a joke. You had only been mated to Lucien and Tamlin for a year now, and when Tamlin had originally proposed you becoming High Lady, you had denied it. You wished to live in the Spring Court and enjoy your mates before you took the title. There were so many responsibilities and rules that you needed to be familiar with in order to be a good ruler, and it just wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment.

But then Tamlin had been complaining about how exhausting ruling the Spring Court was, how the paperwork never ended, how the nobles always had something to whine about.

You, lounging beside Lucien on a plush sofa, had offhandedly said, “Maybe I should be in charge for a day.”

You’d meant it sarcastically.

Tamlin, however, had perked up with a dangerous amount of enthusiasm “That’s a great idea.”

“Oh, I like this,” Lucien had said, grinning over the rim of his glass.

A crown made of flowers now rested on your head, and as the day stretched on, you were starting to believe that maybe you were meant for this throne. Lucien, however, was not meant to be the Royal Tea Maker.

“I take it back,” he grumbled, setting another steaming cup before you. “This is a fate worse than death.”

You took a slow sip, maintaining perfect eye contact, just to make him sweat. “Mmm… acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” He leaned on the armrest of the throne beside you, voice dripping with exasperation. “Do you have any idea how many cups of tea you’ve made me fetch today?”

“I’ve lost count.” You turned to Tamlin, who was sprawled on the steps of the dais, clearly enjoying the show. “What’s the tally?”

Tamlin pretended to consider, tapping his chin. “I’d say we’re at… thirteen?”

Lucien made a strangled sound, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are insufferable.”

Tamlin smirked. “And yet, you love us.”

Lucien opened his mouth, closed it, then scowled. He did love you both—that much was obvious.

Which was exactly why you and Tamlin took such pleasure in teasing him.

Tamlin stretched like a lazy cat, the morning sun streaming through the open windows casting golden light across his broad frame. “Now, what’s next on our High Lady’s very serious agenda?”

You leaned back in the throne, crossing one leg over the other. “Inspections of the gardens.”

Lucien blinked. “That’s… actually a real duty.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And I plan to do it while being carried.”

Tamlin outright laughed. “Carried?”

You fluttered your lashes at him. “You don’t expect the High Lady of the Spring Court to walk, do you?”

Lucien let out a low groan. “You are ridiculous.” But he was already holding out a hand.

You barely had time to reply before Lucien scooped you up effortlessly, your legs dangling as he adjusted you in his arms. You clung to his shoulders for balance, biting back a laugh as he hoisted you higher.

Tamlin stood beside him, shaking his head in amusement. “You really just do whatever she asks, huh?”

Lucien smirked. “Unlike you, I know how to please our beloved High Lady.”

Tamlin’s green eyes darkened slightly, but he just rolled his shoulders, stepping closer until you were caught between both of them. “I think we should both be keeping her satisfied.”

Warmth pooled in your belly. Perhaps this day was about to get even more fun.

Lucien carried you through the gardens—at least until Tamlin got jealous and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

You smacked at his back, laughing. “This is not how you treat your High Lady!”

Tamlin just chuckled, adjusting his hold. “You’re the one who wanted to be carried.”

Lucien, walking beside you, smirked. “I’ve got to say, you are the most adorable ruler the Spring Court has ever had.”

You pouted at him. “You’re supposed to be defending me.”

He just raised a brow. “You should’ve thought about that before making me run errands all day.”

You huffed as Tamlin finally set you back down—only to immediately sweep you into a proper embrace, strong arms caging you against his chest. “You do look good ruling this court.” His voice was lower now, more serious. “Perhaps you should be High Lady every day, your mates waiting on you hand and foot.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that. Spoiling our mate is my guiltiest pleasure,” Lucien said as he brushed a strand of hair from your face

The shift in atmosphere was almost dizzying—the playfulness turning into something more.

Tamlin pressed a lingering kiss to your temple as he put the flower crown that had fallen back on your head, while Lucien traced gentle fingers down your arm. Your skin ignited under their touch.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

By nightfall, you were draped across the throne once more, legs hanging over one of the armrests. Lucien was seated lazily on the steps below you, rolling a small flame between his fingers, while Tamlin perched on the free armrest of the throne, watching you with quiet amusement.

“Final decree of the night,” you announced, stretching. “There will be a royal feast.”

Lucien groaned. “I swear, if you make me go to the kitchens again—”

“No, no.” You waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve suffered enough.”

Tamlin chuckled, reaching out to tuck you in closer. “And what else does our High Lady desire?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oh, I don’t know…” You cast a pointed glance between the two of them. “Maybe my mates making it up to me for all their teasing today?”

“You mean all of your teasing?” Lucien scoffed.

But despite his words, he was already rising to his feet, stepping toward you with a slow, deliberate smirk.

Tamlin leaned in, voice a husky murmur. “I think that can be arranged.”

You swallowed hard, caught between the two of them, a shiver running down your spine.

Yes, you decided, as Lucien’s lips brushed against your neck and Tamlin’s hands gripped your waist.

Being the ruler of the Spring Court had definite advantages.

[tamlinweek]

TAMLIN WEEK MASTER LIST: DAY 7

Tamlin Week 2025 went out with a bang, with 50 submissions! Thank you to everyone who participated, either by creating works or supporting creators. The spirit of Tamlin is strong!

As always, if ever we missed your post, please let us know so we can reblog and add you to the list! We will never intentionally ignore a post. Make sure you're tagging @tamlinweek too! We also accept late submissions for previous days as well.

We want to especially highlight Calanmine, the amazing dating sim created by @copypastus, @thrumbolt, and @highlordofkrypton.

GENERAL TAMLIN

Tamlin Week Deleted Scene by @thornsinwinter

A World In Us by @songofthesibyl

Burning the Memories by @shi-daisy

TAMLIN/RHYSAND

In the Devil's Deck by @sonics-atelier

Ichor by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken

How Green Was My Valley? by @fourteentrout

Are you my mate? by @lifeisabiscuit

TAMLIN/LUCIEN

Horror and the Wild by @thornsinwinter

TAMLIN/ERIS

Dreaming of Love by @matrixsss

TAMLIN/NESTA

The Blood Waltz by @sonics-atelier

TAMLIN/TAMLIN'S BROTHERS

like a jaybird by @tamlincest

TAMLIN/RHYSAND'S SISTER

Caught in the Act by @zoy999zoy

The Lost Queen Among the Stars by @booksnwriting

TAMLIN/RUHN

The Date of the Century by @room217prayer

TAMLIN/NYX

The Great Stroopwafel Incident by @sonics-atelier

TAMLIN/FEYRE, TAMLIN/LUCIEN

Made In His Image by @achaotichuman

TAMLIN/READER

Across the time by @mika-no-sekai-blog

A Fox in the Manor by @wildlupinewrites

GENERAL TAMLIN

genderfluid Tamlin by @herrinarte

forest fairy princess by @l1mmerencee

Tam's happy ending by @lzrsaugust

Cowboy Tamlin by @pitohiu

Hades Tamlin by @geniemillies

Hair tree Tamlin by @ejkreader

Moody Tamlin by @themadmorrigan

Tamlin Portrait by @lunamond

Hogwarts House by @claws-and-all

Follow the Emerald Star by @arson-09

Silly Beast by @olenvasynyt

Which Medieval Tamlin Cat Are You? by @jadedbugart, @bonecarversbestie, @themadmorrigan, and @olenvasynyt

Tamlin as a medieval cat by @jadedbugart

cursed medieval lion Tamlin by @themadmorrigan

Medieval Tamlin doodles by @bonecarversbestie

TAMLIN/RHYSAND

The Return of Wormlin by @taymartiart

TAMLIN/BRIAR

Tamlin and Briar by @luciensdefenseattorney (commissioned by @booksnwriting)

TAMLIN/ORIGINAL CHARACTER

For Love, For Spring by Kannamora (commissioned by @valentinevar)

GENERAL TAMLIN

Tamlin Edits by @spore-loser

TAMLIN/ERIS

Dreaming of Love moodboard by @matrixsss

TAMLIN/NYX

look at me like I'm the sun by @praetorqueenreyna

GENERAL TAMLIN

Tamlin in Faerûn by @therrookie

Thank you to Tamlin Week by @sonics-atelier

It's official! by @matrixsss

Picrew compilation by @copypastus

Favorite Blonde Boy Playlist by @comexwhatxmay

The Tamlin Berate-Yourself Press Tour by @sonics-atelier

Tiny clay Tamlin by @claws-and-all

Tamlin Healing Arc Playlist by @songofthesibyl

Love Nikki Tamlin by @alizangc

Tips from Tamlin by @booksnwriting

TAMLIN/RHYSAND

Once Upon a Spring Night: A Tamsand Playlist by @lainalit

[readychilledwine]

Hi!, here's a Tamlin x reader request. So reader is always so fun and smiley and happy but every night, when everyone is asleep, she goes to the garden and sits there alone crying because of her abusive past. One day, when Tamlin goes to open the window at night, he notices you crying while sitting in the garden. Then he realises you do it every day. So one day, when reader goes to the garden, she notices he's sitting there. He asks her why cries there every night and they have a lil chat, and then tamlin eventually cups her face, looks her in the eyes and tells her "you mean everything to me. There's no one that matters to me more than you" or something like that. And then he just comforts her 🥺. Just make it super fluffy ✨️.

Among The Lilies

Summary - There was always a pro and con to every situation, and being Lady Spring was no different.

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, overstimulation, feelings of being out of place and not belonging

A/N - This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this. I'm still not sure I captured what I was hoping for with this, but fingers crossed.

🌹Tamlin Masterlist🌹Master Masterlist🌹

You sighed as you chugged your second glass of sweet floral wine, watching the fae of your court dance for another night of celebrations. You weren't used to this. You were a forest nymph, a low fae who the Cauldron seemed to think belonged with Tamlin, a High Lord. You were not used to loud parties filled with fae laughing and dancing the way Tamlin was. You were used to silence, to fireside celebrations, small groups among a large crowd. You made the best of his gathering, though. Becoming known for being the life of the party and dancing the night away.

Celebrations like this had started to become a norm. Every accomplishment was met with wine, music, and dancing as Tamlin brought your home back to its former glory. The fae of Spring had been so excited to celebrate the Equinox this year that they had asked you and Tamlin to take it from a night of debauchery and fun to a week of dancing, drinking, and revelry. It would be the first the court had celebrated in 6 years and with the new court voted taxation system, the new faith in their High Lord, and if rumors and whispers were true, the influence of you, it was hard for Tamlin to deny them anything.

So here you were. Wearing the smile that didn't reach your eyes, struggling to breathe in the corset dress you had a love-hate relationship with, and waiting to slip out unnoticed. You had been enjoying yourself, but you were slowly becoming over stimulalated from the countless males and females touching you, thanking you, trying to dance with you. You were exhausted from the late parties that quickly faded into morning duties and after assignments.

You finally saw your chance, sparing one last look to where your husband stood, Lucien by his side, laughing at something Tarquin said. You bolted then, running to the doors and through the halls before slowing to a walk at the private garden Tamlin had planted for you.

The garden had become your safe place. A place for you to cry, to use your magic to recenter yourself, and to find peace. You felt almost guilty, coming here again and bombarding the poor sprites as they danced and enjoyed their little fires and celebration. Such small, kind creatures, but yet some of Springs most important. "Forgive me," you inclined your head before heading to the fountain you knew they'd be nowhere near.

This had become a ritual for you the past few nights, hiding out here with your back and head against the cool marble, breathing in the scent of fresh blooming roses and lilies. You typically stayed here until you relaxed before heading back in, but a sprite had different plans this time.

Small hands touched your cheek, wiping the tears that were falling as you finally collected yourself. A female fluttered her gossamer like wings next to you, her light green skin contrasting her flower petal dress. "Why is my lady sad?"

You smiled, holding a hand out to her and allowing her to land. "Not sad, just tired."

"Lilies are the flowers of sadness. You come here when you're sad. You go to the roses when you're blushing. The daisies for joy." She stood and held your thumb as if to hug and hold you. "Please tell me what's wrong?" Your heart ached, burdening this innocent creature with your frustration. Yet, she only nodded, seeming to understand the feelings you were having. Soon, you two became so engrossed in conversations that you didn't notice green eyes watching from a window and a sharp mind wondering why his wife had closed off their bond.

The next night was more of the same. More fae dragging you to dance. More hands touching your exposed arms. More music. More everything. You were not sly as you escaped this time and all but ran to your beloved fountain. Faltering, you saw Tamlin, a single rose in his hand as he sat watching the sprites.

"I had thought to myself, perhaps my rose just needed fresh air the first night you ran out here," his voice washed over you like rain as you walked over, sitting next to him. "Then it happened again. And again. Then, for the fourth time. And again tonight. You're coming here to cry, and evidently do so frequently, your friends have told me that much," a sprite with a familiar smile disappeared from your view. "But she will not tell me the one thing I want to know." His eyes finally met yours, lingering and studying your expression. "Why," the question was simple, one you should have been able to answer.

You finally found it in your mind, looking at the root of the complicated problem. "I struggle to feel I belong among the high fae still." You took a spot beside him, pulled your knees up and hugged them. "I offer pretty smiles, I give them the positive words they expect, and I play the part of happy wife, but I still struggle."

He hummed, his calloused hand finding yours, "Are you a happy wife? Or do I need to provide more?" His tone had changed, realizing this was more than feeling overcrowded. This was his mate, opening that dark feeling he knew was festering.

You could only smile at him, a real one that did reach your eyes, "I am happy in all aspects of our marriage. I just want a sense of belonging when it comes to other courtly matters." That was where you struggled. You struggled with the weight that came from the jewels you wore, the circlet on your head.

"Oh, you belong," he murmured as he pulled you closer. "You are this court. The very soul that drives it. Being a nymph does nothing to change that." His thumb came up, wiping a tear you had not realized was falling. "There is more. I can feel an ache in your heart wanting to come forward."

Moments of silence passed, "Am I enough?" That question had him cupping your chin, forehead resting against yours as you continued. "I don't want to be High Lady. I don't have the drive and ambition Lady Summer, Lady Night, or Lady Day have. I enjoy my place at your side, but not-"

His free hand came up, holding both sides of your face as he shushed you, thumbs continuing to swipe your cheeks. "You are more than enough. You are everything to me." His forehead stayed touching yours, your noses brushing as he spoke, "I love you as you are, for who you are. It would break me to see you change your drive to match the desires of others instead of your own."

You nodded as you were listening to his words. You could feel the beat of your heart beginning to match his, your body relaxing to match his. "I just want to be everything you've ever asked for," you confessed.

"And you are more," his lips twitched, "Cauldron, you are so much more. You are perfect for me. Perfect for my court. You are-" Tamlin paused trying to find the words. "I could write all the poetry in the world, source from the greatest love stories of legend, yet nothing could compare to what you are to me."

Those tears changed at that, sadness replaced by warmth as he touched his lips to yours in a comforting kiss before pulling back. "You are my sun," he whispered. "You are not just my world. You are the center I orbit. You are the source of light and warmth. You are how I time my day." Your smile was growing as he continued to speak, hands finding his broad chest as your eyes closed to fully process and enjoy the timber of his voice.

"I love you. I just.. I love you." He ended it so easily. Three words that encompassed thousands of emotions he could describe. "Never change and never hide these feelings from me. Let me help shoulder your burdens."

You leaned up, kissing him as you opened the bond, "And I love you." Your arms wrapped around him, head resting on his chest. "We should go back before our guests worry."

"Let them worry," he kissed the top of your head. "Let's enjoy the garden and the sprites."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[scorpioriesling]

Hii, hope you are having a good week! I saw your prompt list and that your requests are open👉👈🥹 I was wondering if I could request number 4.Make up sex with Tamlin x reader where they are mates??? I love himmm

Discussions in … Strategy

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Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw, p in v, oral, semi-public sex, slight angst

Summary: While in the Winter Court for a meeting with your mate, a simple discussion of strategy gets out of hand. After a heated argument, and words said out of anger -- your husband knows just how to make it up to you.

SR’s Note: This one has been in my inbox / WIPs for SO LONG, and I'm so excited to finally finish it and share it with all of you lovely people. (: This uses prompt #4 from my prompt masterlist -- please feel free to send me an ask/idea/request at any time! There are a few unused prompts from the list that I would still love to incorporate.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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The wind was cold as it whipped against your face -- you hadn't enjoyed the Winter Court much for that. It was rarely warm in this court, no sun, no humidity... it almost made you miss the Summer Court.

Perhaps I'll just go back there, you thought.

Shaking your head, you let the angry feelings recede a bit. As you closed the open window and made to look in the mirror instead, you let out a long sigh.

Is the Spring Court High Lady supposed to look so... blue?

You reached for the jewelry you'd laid out for today's meeting; a pair of pearl earrings your mother had once given you, and a golden necklace with a heart-shaped pearl hanging from it.

That one was from your mate.

Your mate. Your husband. Your Tamlin. Your brows furrowed as the sinking feeling in your heart returned, one that made its debut the night prior. The night prior, when, being so stubborn as usual, you and your mate got into a tiff. More of an argument, really. It was the worst one you'd ever had.

You glance at yourself in the mirror again, frustration reddening your face as you try to clasp the jewelry around your neck. Usually, your husband would be there to help you out with that -- but, he had left early this morning, after a long night with not so much as a cuddle from you.

Maybe he was rethinking his original proclaimation to make you his High Lady...

Last night's argument was rough, sure. But the Tamlin you knew, one so changed after his falling out with Feyre, wouldn't think twice about you being his equal. You knew that -- but the feeling still lingered.

He was so upset last night, so worked up by the things you were saying. You'd never so much as heard him raise his voice before, let alone gripe at you so loudly during the disagreement. But, last night was different.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying, Y/N," he started.

"I don't need to! I already told you, the best course of action was to ally with Kallias, and-"

"Is that much not already clear? By the Cauldron, Y/N, we've travelled all this way to meet with him in his palace-"

"Exactly!" Your voice rose one octave, the knitting of your brows only making him frown.

"So why aren't we focusing more on our alliances with-"

"I swear to the Cauldron, Tamlin, you don't listen to a word I say." You huffed, tossing your worn gown into the closet and slamming the door. You pulled your sleeping top over your head, continuing on.

"We already have the Autumn Court on our side. The only other party here right now, for this meeting tomorrow, is the Night Court-"

"Right, the Night Court that we still need to forge an alliance with."

You glared at him hard.

"You really think Rhysand is going to hear a word either of us have to say? After all this time, how blinded are you-"

"For the record, I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, High Lady. I think I know what I'm doing." He glared back at you.

That's when your heart sunk, and a few beats of silence passed between you.

"That was low, even for you."

His face softened at your words, his eyes downcast as you slid into the cozy, winter-white sheets.

He let out a small, saddened sigh as he changed, and slid in behind you.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't." Even with your back turned, you could still hear every word he said, and sense he had reached out to embrace you.

You didn't care. Your feelings had been hurt -- and your heart felt as cold as the snow gathering on the windowsill.

Standing before the closet once more, you ruffled through the gowns you'd packed, not quite sure which one was best fit for the meeting. Originally, you thought the pale blue would be best, as you were in the Winter Court after all -- but, you were the High Lady of the Spring Court. You didn't want your potential allies for this upcoming battle to feel as though you were trying to be somebody that you weren't.

You bent at the waist, picking up the discarded gossimer from last night and hanging it straight on a hanger. That one was a rather expensive one, one your mate had bought you for your anniversary; you'd have to consult with Alis about the wrinkles.

Thumbing through the dresses once more, your eye caught on the moss green gown, one you hadn't worn often, but one that surely got other's attention. The last time you'd worn it, you took your honeymoon with Tamlin in the Dawn Court... oh, what a lovely trip that had been.

You tried to ignore the growing pulse between your legs at the memory.

Snatching it from the closet, you put it on, fixing your hair once before giving yourself a confident smile in the mirror.

You'd make things right today, you thought. Just after you got through this meeting.

✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"My Gods Y/N -- you're ravishing as ever!"

Vivianne greets you with a warm embrace, and you chuckle as some of the fur on her long, white coat tickled your nose.

"It's good to see you again, Viv."

You pulled away, smiling politely before she pulled you close conspiratorally.

"Hey -- we really need girl's weekend again, don't you think?"

You smiled, the memory of the last weekend spent in the Summer Court a happy one.

"Oh, I most certainly agree. Tamlin's been..." you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe, but not insult your husband.

"...Tamlin?" She finishes, and the two of you chuckle. Your stomach drops a little as you see the familiar head of blonde hair waltzing over to the two of you, one that didn't particularly like you or your husband.

"Morrigan!" Vivianne cheered, embracing her long-time friend as she'd just done to you. "I missed you so much!"

Morrigan flashed her a beaming smile, her attention solely focused on her friend. Your cheeks heated in that moment. Of course they were closer than you and Vivianne were -- they'd both been doing this for a lot longer.

Maybe, you should've trusted your husband's judgement, instead of snapping at him like you did.

"Mor, I'm sure you've met-"

"Yes, I have. The, High Lady, of... the Spring Court." Her words are punctuated, but she extends a hand to you nonetheless. You take it, plastering the most confident smile on your face as possible. "Your name was...?"

"Y/N," you fill the silence, Vivianne's eyes switching between the two of you. "It's Y/N." She only nods, dropping your hand as she subtly glances at your necklace.

"Yes, Y/N and I were actually just talking about another ladie's weekend!" Vivianne chirps excitedly. "Do you think you'll be able to come this time?" Morrigan's gaze returns to her friend.

"It depends -- Rhys always has something for me to do, we have more of an army than we know what to do with, and..." she glances sidelong at you. "I suppose it depends on how this meeting goes today, doesn't it?"

Vivianne bites her lip, trying to feign nonchalance as she offers a simple shrug. "I... I suppose, so."

Morrigan takes in a breath, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It'd be so much easier if the men here could get off their high horses; if we started working together years ago, we would already be prepared for something like this." She lets out a short laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile.

You definitely should have heard Tamlin out. An alliance with the Night Court? That was absolutely the move.

Vivianne and Morrigan shatter on as you reflect on how wrong you were, shouting at your mate like that last night, what were you thinking? You were already friends with Vivianne, which meant Kallias was willing to work with your court-

"Hello, everyone! So glad you could all make it." Kallias' voice rang out through the room, his voice bouncing off the ice-walls. "Please -- join me at the table, everyone, as we discuss this upcoming war."

Morrigan tutted, and Viv muttered a "men, right?", which caused you to chuckle as you made your way to your seat. Your heart caught in your chest as you observed Tamlin in the chair beside yours, his chosen outfit for the day was green, fitting, and... attractive.

You began to pull out your chair, only stopping when his large palm covered yours atop the wood.

"Allow me."

The quiet offer was all you needed, as you moved to sit, allowing your husband to push you closer to the table. He sat quietly next to you, and it took everything in you to not lean over and kiss his cheek.

"Alright -- at our last meeting, I believe we were discussing the matter of battle origin," Kallias begins. He droned on, and on, and on, discussing various maps of each court as he earned input from the other two High Lords in attendance. Beron, though he was your ally, didn't know how to say anything respectful; you opted to sneak a glance at your husband instead of listening to his opinion.

Boy, what a mistake that was.

You felt silly, foolish for the thoughts running through your head. Your mate's jawline was clean shaven, his silky golden hair flowing to his shoulders. The way his cream-colored pants fit him... Gods, you only could imagine the way his strong thigh muscle would feel against your aching clit, his strong hands guiding your waist back and forth as you made a mess on his-

"And, what do you have to say about this?"

You were so wrapped up in your dizzying thoughts that the question came as a shock to you. While you were trying to come up with an answer, something to say to that -- Tamlin spoke up.

"I believe we will have to agree with Kallias on this one."

His answer washed over you like a bucket of ice water. Kallias? The Winter Court? Examining the maps laid upon the table, one thing was clear -- the decision of where to camp for battle was very divided.

All it took was one look to the High Lady of the Night Court's face to realize the grave mistake your husband just made -- they'd never align properly with you, given that you'd taken the side of the court in the minority over their plan that made much more sense.

Even Beron frowned.

"I... I think, what Tamlin meant," you spoke up. "Was that while the Winter Court would be ideal..." you could feel the nerves creeping in. Everyone's eye was on you. Public speaking wasn't a comfortable skill you'd taken on, usually opting for your husband to do most of the talking -- after all, he was much better at it than he had been.

"I think that, while your Court is ideal," you repeated, looking to Kallias and then to Rhysand. "The weather for said activity, is not. From my understanding, the Night Court is much better suited-"

"We think the Night Court is a good idea, but it may be better to lie in wait here where invading armies are less likely to look." Tamlin interrupts, trying to steer the conversation in favor of the Winter Court. You huff, only trying to show your change of heart from the night before.

Kallias' satisfied expression changes when Rhysand opens his mouth.

"Let the lady speak, Tamlin... she is your High Lady, after all." He offers you a polite smile, and you clear your throat once more.

"I think... we have to agree with the Night Court, on this one." Tamlin shakes his head beside you, his knuckles white as he clasps his hands together atop the table.

"No no, we are aligning our judgement with the Winter Court." He half-smiles at Kallias. Beron raises an eyebrow.

You look at him, brows knit. "I think my husband is... confused, as we already talked about our allegiance with the Night Court," you punctuate, hoping to get the memo across that yes, he was right, and yes, aligning with the Night Court would be best.

He stares blankly. "I'm not confused. About any of it." The two of you stare eachother down, only interrupted when Beron claps his hands loudly.

"Well, as it seems the two of you don't have your court's beliefs in order quite yet," he looks to Kallias. "How about an intermission?"

The High Lord of Winter nods. "An intermission -- meet back here after dinner?" Many attendees nod, moving to stand from their chairs. You catch a small wink from Morrigan, clearly pleased with your interest in her native court. But before you can make to stand, your husband's hand braces your thigh.

"You're not going, anywhere." He growls. You sit still, watching as every other member filters out, and Kallias closes the door behind him. Turning to Tamlin, you take a steadying breath as his eyes meet yours.

"Tamlin, I-"

He rushes toward you, his free hand bracing the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours. His other hand squeezes your leg, feeling up and down as he rumples your dress. Lips moving against one another, you let out a soft groan at the feeling of his tongue slipping between your lips, tasting you and fighting for control against yours.

You pull back breathless, your eyes meeting his once more. The dark green irises are filled with pure hunger.

"What are you playing at, Y/N?" He growls, and you have squeeze your legs together.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, already longing to be on his again. "I... I realized, you were right, last night, and um-"

"And, you thought leaving your mind open to me, during this crucial meeting was a good idea?" His brows lower, while yours furrow in confusion.

"What? I..." Oh.

"You think I can't hear what you're thinking? See what you're fantasizing about, while I'm trying to focus on the plan you suggested-"

"Woah woah woah," you held your hands up, chuckling humorlessly. "How did you miss that I was trying to follow your plan?" He glowered at you. "Tamlin, I know what was said last night was in anger, but you were right-"

"Do not apologize to me." He says lowly. "I had no right to speak to you that way. Speak to my mate that way." Your heart aches at his wors, his mouth mere inches from yours as he maintains eye contact. "And I don't want you ever, thinking I'd want you in any court than mine. With me. Leading, with me."

Your bottom lip quivers. He must have heard your negativity this morning, too.

Before the tears well up too much in your eyes, you pull him in, kissing him again. Your fingers grip his emerald jacket collar, holding on as his mouth devoured yours at once. His hands, Gods his hands... he hoised you out of your chair, placing you on his lap to straddle him instead. You moaned into the kiss, his cock throbbing beneath the restraints of his pants and sending waves of desire straight to your core.

His hands roved all over you, sliding down your back and across your covered thighs before settling on your hips, moving you back and forth across his hardening length. You only break the kiss to gasp when he leans you back, splaying you flat on the table while he pushes up your dress.

"T-Tamlin, we're..." you suck in a breath, his eyes meeting yours as he slides his tongue flat against your clothed pussy. "We could... someone could..."

He reaches out a hand, the small click of the door locking behind him all the assurance you need. His gaze returns to the masterpiece before him, his mouth practically watering as he slides your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

"Oh... OH Gods," you groan, his tongue returning to your quivering hole at once. You write beneath him, every lick and soft bite around your pussy pure torture. He lays one hand on your lower stomach, pressing down as he inserts two of his fingers inside, curling them deep inside of you.

"T-Tamlin, oh Gods...yes, yes," you chant, feeling the tightening in your lower stomach as his mouth continues eating you out deliciously. At once, the lewd sounds stop -- and you lift your head off the table for only an instant before his hand wraps around your throat, pushing you down to lay flat again.

"You want to tease me during an important meeting, hm?" He smirks, shoving down the waistpant of those well-fitting pants at once. His shoulder muscles flex, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gazes into your eyes while jerking himself off. "This dress? Your attitude?" He tuts, and you clench around nothing as he presses the head against your awaiting hole.

"You're getting what you wanted, my love -- I'll always, give you exactly what you want."

A gasp breaks free as he pushes into you, his girthy length stretching you in the best way. His hand grips your ass, pulling you to the edge of the table. Your hair lays splayed beneath you, your beauty only more captivating to him as he squeezes your throat slightly.

Breathy pants escape with every thrust he gives you, every vein and ridge felt against your sensitive walls. He groans in pleasure, licking his lips as he speeds up, pounding mercilessly into you.

"I... oh, Tamlin, oh... fuck," you moan, and he chuckles slyly at you.

"What a dirty mouth you've got for a High Lady," you suck in a gasp as his hand leaves your throat, opting to slide along your jawline as his thumb runs over your bottom lip. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue as he slips his finger inside.

"Mmm... good girl," he grunts, watching as you squeak in pleasure beneath him. His hips slap against your thighs, the angle at which his dick is thrusting into you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You open your mouth, gasping for a single breath. "Tamlin, I'm gonna... oh Gods!" You squeeze your eyes shut as you cry out in pleasure, the pressure in your belly finally releasing as your orgasm rolls through you. He continues fucking you, only slowing when he drains himself inside of you. Pulling out, he offers a small laugh as you make eye contact.

"I think... we need to clean up, before the others return." You giggle, taking his offerring hand and hopping off the table. The both of you work to re-arrange the maps as they'd been before your activities, and you smooth your dress down once you're satisfied with the room's presentation.

"I'll keep these," Tamlin reaches for your undies, pocketing them for later. You blush as the two of you approach the door, unlocking and opening it to reveal a shocking scene.

Kallias stands before you, a brow raised in amusement.

No words are exchanged, until your husband clears his throat.

"We were just discussing-"

"Oh, don't worry. I heard your discussing." He chuckles, and your face reddens. How long had he been waiting there?

Tamlin coughs, opening his mouth again to speak. Kallias only raises a hand.

"No need to explain, friend -- I've already called off the meeting for tonight." Tamlin's brow furrows, and you exchange a look of confusion.

"But, we haven't even discussed our final decision yet-"

"You both... discussed, rather loudly. Assuming you'll give your wife exactly what she wants..."

Your face deepens more in color.

"...you'll be in favor of the Night Court's plan. That's 3 votes to 1." He glances to you, smirking as he turns on his heel. "Seems as though the High Lady of Spring is going to get exactly what she wants."

He begins ascending the stairs, and Tamlin takes your hand in his. The rosiness on his cheeks is cute, but you can tell he's embarassed too as he calls after his ally.

"Kallias, wait-"

The white-haired male turns, looking at you two with an amused grin.

"Maybe, next time, don't use my round table for your...discussions."

✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[velarisdusk]

Day 1: Beginnings / Endings (05/04/25) In the Absence of Snow | Rhysand x Reader | Angst

During a quiet Solstice morning at the River House, you learn of an absurd tradition and decide to start your own. Now, over a century later, with the House quiet and the memories lingering, you and Rhysand stand together in the silence, trying to find meaning in what remains.

Day 2: Friends / Family (05/05/25) The One Where Everybody Finds Out | Cassian x Reader | Fluff

Keeping a secret in a house full of nosy friends was a losing game. You and Cassian thought you were careful—but after one too many slip-ups, it's clear: the jig is up.

Day 3: Fate / Choice (05/06/25) The Force That Binds | Azriel x Reader | Angst

Under the glow of Starfall, fate calls—but you don't answer. Azriel reaches for it, the bond thrumming between you, waiting. But the night is long, and you don't reach back.

Day 4: Villain / Hero (05/07/25) Cracked Earth and Wilted Roses | Lucien x Reader | Hurt/Comfort

The Spring Court is unraveling, and the screaming downstairs is only part of it. Feyre's letter said she wasn't coming home, but it didn't prepare you for the version of her you found instead.

Day 5: Heirs / Lords & Ladies (05/08/25) On Strategic Withdrawal | Eris x Reader | Angst

When the fire between you and Eris starts to dim under the weight of his responsibilities, your once-shared spaces become haunted by the memories of what they used to be.

Day 6: Adventure / Home (05/09/25) Breadcrumbs and Blossoms | Tamlin x Reader | Fluff

After weeks away, your anniversary begins with a note — and a trail of memories only Tamlin could leave behind. 

Day 7: Free Day (05/10/25) I've Got the Gift of One-Liners (And You've Got the Curse of Curves) | Azriel x Reader | Smut

Backstage. One night. No regrets. The track says too much — but that night said it louder. (A bonus fic for my Wings of Illyria AU)

[siriuslystyle1989]

Call It What You Want.

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a long mission away, the only thing Azriel wants is his mate.

Warnings: Fluff

masterlist

Door clicking open, Azriel found himself letting out a sigh of relief at the familiar scent of him and his mates shared home.

Meandering through their large apartment in the centre of Velaris, Azriel searched for where Y/n could possibly be.

The mission had been gruelling. Trying to stay hidden and get information on the continent is no easy task, but Azriel was the best person to do it. Everyone knew that.

Azriel's shadows balled around him as if they were as equally as tired as him.

"Az?" a familiar female voice fell to his ears "Is that you?"

Before he could reply, footsteps from the kitchen began to draw nearer. Until he was greeted with Y/n's face.

"Oh my love" She spoke softly with a pout on her face as his shadows suddenly awoke again, making their way towards her.

Azriel felt pathetically tired. Therefore when Y/n opened her arms towards the man he practically fell into them.

Stroking his hair, Y/n placed delicate kisses on his head as she guided him to their shared bedroom.

"I need to take a shower, I stink." Azriel groaned, not wanting to leave his mates embrace.

He might seem clingy, sure, but neither Azriel nor Y/n could care. They just enjoyed the feeling of being in each other's arms, especially after being apart for so long.

"Okay, you go shower and I'll make you some tea for when you come out." Y/n smiled at his dramatics as she made her way back to the kitchen.

After around 20 minutes, Azriel left the bathroom to find Y/n sat with a book open on their bed.

Looking up, Y/n smiled at him.

"Baby, let's get you to bed." the girl spoke, her voice just above a whisper.

She helped him snuggle into the blankets as he laid his head on her chest.

"I'm going to kill Rhys if he sends you on any more missions any time soon."

Azriel let out a small laugh, his shadows curling around Y/n in comfort.

"Let's not think about him right now please?" He grumbled as he buried his head further into the crook of her neck.

Y/n giggled slightly and ran a hand through his hair.

"I love you."

A/N: Thank you for all of the love recently!! my requests are open all the time for anyone who wants to send some in. This is my first acotar fic but I'm happy to write for any of the characters! Though my favourites are probably Lucien, Eris and Azriel lol.