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The Morning After

Pairing: Tamlin x f!reader

Summary: After a wild night at Summer Solstice and one too many drinks, you wake up in the bed of the High Lord of the Spring Court with no memories of how you got there.

Warnings: hangover, allusions to sex

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I normally write in past tense, but I realized after a few paragraphs that I was writing this one in the present tense. Since it came so natural, I decided to leave it that way bc I was too lazy to change it all lol

Main Masterlist | Week Masterlist | Tamlin Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

You wake up to a constant, throbbing pain in the back of your head.

The first thing you notice when you open your eyes with a groan is the blinding sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.

Who leaves their curtains open before going to bed? Especially in the Spring Court, where the sun shines brightly most days. How can anyone sleep like this?

Once you adjust to it, blinking several times, you finally take in your surroundings.

The room is decorated in shades of verdant green and golden yellow, with high-end furniture far more expensive than you could ever dream of. There’s even a fireplace on the opposite wall.

Whoever you went home with last night must be really rich to afford a place like this.

#sjmxreaderweek #sjmxreaderweek2025 #tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin x reader #tamlin fanfic #tamlin fluff #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #fluff #one shot #fanfiction

Just Let Me Adore You

You show Tamlin just how worthy of love he is.

For day Three of @tamlinweek : Worship.

Warnings: Some signs of depression (very minor) Smut 18+ (Minors DNI) Porn with little plot. Oral (m receiving), spit, cum eating. Soft p in v sex. Biting.

WC: 2.8k

#tamlin x reader #tamlin smut #tamlin fluff #tamlin week 2025 #tamlinweek2025 #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses

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

The Phoenix

pairing: Tamlin x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of war, a gifted healer and emissary from the Dawn Court, now aligned with the Night Court, is sent by Rhysand to the Spring Court on a delicate diplomatic mission. Her task: to rebuild fragile ties with Tamlin, the High Lord many consider a pariah after his catastrophic fallout with Feyre and the collapse of his once-beautiful court.

What begins as a formal assignment quickly deepens when she sees the man Tamlin has become…worn, haunted, yet still achingly beautiful beneath the ruin.

Despite the whispers of betrayal and the warnings from her own court, she finds herself drawn to him in ways she cannot ignore. His pain, his honesty, and the rare glimpses of the male he used to be stir something in her that goes beyond duty…something tender, intimate, and dangerous.

And despite the warnings, she is determined to help him rise from the ashes.

___________________________________

content warnings: very light angst, fluff

word count: 4.2k

Permanent taglist: @motheroffae @tele86 @demon-master-zero @thegoddessofnothingness @rosecobollway @sillyfreakfanparty @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @plants-w0rld @frietiemeloen @the-hidey-hole @dnfhascorruptedme @lreadsstuff @jesskidding3 @beyondblissxoxo @vanserrasimp @bravo-delta-eccho @sophieliz @masbt1218 @ohemgeewhat @thefatesofspring @flawlessrosee-blog

Story taglist: @impossibelle

If you would like to be added to a permanent taglist, permanent character taglist or story taglist, please leave me a comment and let me know which taglist you want to be on!

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

*****

Chapter 8

Night had fallen gently over the Spring Court, bathing the estate in soft silver light. The glow of lanterns flickered through the manor’s windows as the day’s bustle finally quieted into a rare hush of stillness and calm.

You stood at the edge of the hallway, brushing dried leaves from your skirt, your hands still ink-stained from the day’s notes when Tamlin appeared.

He’d changed into a dark green tunic, tailored now, the gold embroidery at the collar matching the warmth in his eyes. His long hair had been loosely tied back, and a fresh cut of clean-shaven stubble graced his jaw.

But it was the way he looked at you, as if the moonlight itself had whispered your name into his chest, that sent your heart fluttering.

“I was hoping to find you,” he said, his voice low and easy. “Dinner’s ready, if you’re not too exhausted.”

You smiled, warmth unfurling in your chest. “I could eat.”

He led you through the hall to the dining room, where a simple but thoughtfully prepared meal waited. The long table was no longer set like a cold banquet hall. Instead, the staff had arranged a smaller table for two near the balcony doors, letting the moonlight spill in over your plates and casting shadows across Tamlin’s cheekbones.

Throughout dinner, laughter hummed between you like a current. You spoke of the day’s triumphs…of the children who smiled at Tamlin’s return, of the villagers who wept quietly with hope in their eyes, of the supplies finally making their way across a court long starved of care.

“I still can’t believe they all came,” he murmured as he set down his glass. “The builders. The livestock. The tailor, for Cauldron’s sake.”

“You clean up well,” you teased, eyes twinkling as you gestured toward his tunic. “Not bad for a High Lord in hiding.”

Tamlin chuckled, but his gaze softened. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You quieted, heart stuttering just a little.

He studied you across the candlelight. “How long… do you plan to stay?”

You hesitated for a beat, fingers brushing the stem of your wineglass.

“Rhysand wants me back in Velaris,” you admitted quietly. “But… if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay. See everything through. Help finish what we’ve started.”

Tamlin’s breath left him slowly, like something unclenching in his chest. He nodded, once. “I’m glad. I -” He caught himself, then smiled ruefully. “I wish you’d stay forever. But I know I can’t ask that.”

Your throat tightened.

The flicker of vulnerability in his voice was as intimate as any touch.

After dinner, the two of you stepped out into the gardens, the stone path warm beneath your feet, the air fragrant with jasmine and dew.

You walked side by side, your arms brushing now and then, silent for a while, just listening to the symphony of nighttime sounds, the chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves, and then…

Fireflies.

They rose slowly from the grass, blinking to life in a soft parade of golden light. They danced around you both, spiraling between branches and gliding past your cheeks. You laughed, startled by the gentle kiss of one near your ear.

“They’re everywhere,” you said, turning in place, arms lifted slightly, childlike delight in your voice.

Tamlin’s gaze never left you.

You were radiant, eyes wide, face tilted to the sky, curls loose down your back, your skin glowing like you were made for moonlight.

Joy bloomed from you in a way he hadn’t seen in years, not in anyone.

“You look…” he said softly, “absolutely stunning in the moonlight.”

You turned to him, caught by the reverence in his voice. His words hit deeper than they should have, nestling in a place you’d kept carefully guarded.

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

And slowly, almost cautiously, Tamlin stepped closer.

His fingers brushed yours…hesitant, searching. When you didn’t pull away, he lifted his hand and tucked a loose curl behind your ear, the back of his knuckles grazing your cheek.

Your breath caught.

And he stepped closer.

Slow.

Deliberate.

His fingers lifted to tuck a curl behind your ear, but they lingered…his knuckles trailing along your cheek, grazing your jaw. He was so close now, his scent surrounding you, wild woods, clean leather, and the lingering musk of him from the sun-warmed day.

You inhaled without meaning to, and it hit you like a wave.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” he said, voice rough with honesty.

Your heart hammered as his hand slid from your cheek to your waist, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric of your gown, grounding you, tethering you to him.

And then he kissed you.

Gently.

Almost reverently.

His lips were soft, seeking.

A question you’d already answered with the way you leaned into him. The way your fingers lifted to the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric like you needed it to breathe.

The kiss deepened.

His hand slipped up your back, cradling the nape of your neck, tilting your head as he pressed closer, his body flush against yours now. His other arm wrapped around your waist, firm and possessive, pulling you into the solid heat of him. You gasped softly into his mouth as his tongue brushed against your lower lip…coaxing, teasing, before sliding past when you parted for him.

And gods, the way he kissed you.

Like he’d waited a lifetime.

Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, the way your breath hitched and your fingers fisted against his chest.

Your back met the cool stone of the garden wall, and Tamlin pressed against you fully, his body hard and warm and overwhelming in the best possible way.

His kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, each brush of his mouth a silent confession he hadn’t yet dared to speak aloud.

And still he didn’t rush.

He took his time.

His lips traced along your jaw, your cheek, back to your mouth, again and again, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

As if he didn’t want to.

And you were lost in him.

In the press of his chest against yours, the heat of his hand on your hip, the breathless sound he made when your hand slid up into his hair and tugged gently, anchoring him to you.

When you finally pulled back, panting, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the warm air.

You opened your eyes and found him already watching you, his eyes dark, searching, filled with something so raw and tender that it made your chest ache.

“I’m falling,” he whispered. “And I don’t know how to stop.”

You swallowed.

Your hand curled against his chest, right over his heart.

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered back.

The garden glistened under the kiss of moonlight as you and Tamlin walked slowly, your fingers grazing occasionally but not quite intertwining…though you could feel the pull. The air was soft and warm, carrying the scent of blooming wisteria and rose vines trailing along the ancient walls. Fireflies still flickered lazily in the hedges, and above you, the stars blinked like they were watching closely, holding their breath.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

There was a kind of peace in the quiet, in the nearness of him, in the way your bodies moved in step, as if your hearts were beginning to beat in the same rhythm. And every time you turned your head and caught the profile of his face carved in silver light, your chest ached in that slow, tender way that only came with wanting someone more than just physically.

He stopped as you neared the terrace steps again and looked over at you. “How about a drink by the fire before we call it a night?” His voice was low, almost husky. “Talk through what we need to get done tomorrow.”

You smiled. “Wine and logistics? You really know how to spoil a girl.”

He grinned, the kind of grin that softened all the harshness his face used to carry. “I’m told it’s a gift.”

Inside, the manor was warm and welcoming for the first time in years.

Someone had already stoked the fire in the great room, and it crackled with gentle heat.

Tamlin returned a moment later with a bottle of deep red wine and two crystal glasses. You settled together on a plush fur rug before the hearth, sitting close but not quite touching, the air between you threaded with static.

He poured the wine, and you clinked glasses. His eyes never left yours.

“To rebuilding,” you said.

“To you,” he replied quietly.

Your heart fluttered.

The conversation turned then to planning.

You curled your legs beneath you and leaned closer as you both mapped out tomorrow’s tasks. He’d oversee the repairs on the south wing and help coordinate the field laborers returning to their lands. You’d take on meeting with the household staff, arranging schedules for the cooks, the healers, and assigning restocking supplies over the coming weeks to each village as needed.

The fire popped softly as your voices drifted lower, slower. The heat from it, and from him, began to seep into your skin.

Tamlin looked down at his glass and then asked, almost cautiously, “Do you like working for the Night Court?”

You glanced up at him, caught by the edge of something unspoken in his tone.

“I do,” you said truthfully. “I’ve built a life there. Friends. Purpose. But… I wouldn’t say I’m tied to it forever.”

He nodded, slowly. “Would you ever consider living in another court?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Is there a reason you’re asking? Or are you just conducting a personal census?”

His lips curved, but his eyes remained searching. “Maybe both.”

You leaned forward, slowly, setting your glass down, bracing a hand on the rug as you brought your face closer to his. “Tamlin,” you murmured, your voice a teasing whisper, “are you trying to convince me to stay?”

He didn’t look away. “I want you to. But I know I can’t ask that of you.”

Your breath hitched at the raw honesty in his voice.

Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you.

His lips pressed to yours with a reverence that made your heart ache. And you kissed him back, tilting your head, inviting him in.

The kiss deepened.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the skin just beneath your eye as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. You felt the heat of his body through your dress, the faint tremble in his breath as his mouth opened against yours.

He kissed you again, and again…growing bolder, hungrier.

Soon, he was lowering you gently onto the rug, his body hovering above yours, weight balanced on one arm while the other traced the curve of your waist, your hip, like he couldn’t believe he was touching you.

Your fingers threaded into his long golden hair, tugging gently as you arched into him, your body instinctively seeking more…more of his warmth, more of his strength, more of the need in him that mirrored your own.

The heat between you grew, dizzying and all-consuming, as his mouth left your lips to kiss a slow path down your jaw, your neck, returning again to your mouth with a groan like it hurt not to kiss you.

Every press of his hand, every stroke, every breath sent sparks dancing beneath your skin.

And yet…

Something more was there.

Something that made your heart ache as much as it made your body burn.

You pulled back gently, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Tamlin…”

His golden-green eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with labored breath.

“I want this,” you said softly. “I want you. But this, what we’re feeling, it’s not just… physical. It’s more. And when that moment happens, when we give in completely, I want it to be something neither of us questions.”

He stared at you like you’d just placed your hand around his heart and held it.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” he murmured, voice raw. “I ruined the last good thing I had. I don’t want to be that male again.”

“You’re not that male,” you said, your fingers stroking down the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “Not anymore.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, his weight pressing into you gently, grounding you both. For a long moment, the only sounds were your breathing, the crackling fire, and the thrum of your hearts, beating in time.

When he kissed you again, it was slower.

Tender.

Full of restraint that trembled beneath the surface.

He pulled back, brushing your hair away from your face.

“I’ll wait,” he said quietly. “For as long as you need.”

You smiled, curling into his chest as he gathered you close.

And for the rest of the night, you lay there by the fire in each other’s arms, not needing to speak.

Because some things didn’t need words.

Some things just needed time.

*****

The week unfolded in golden light and blooming life, as if the very land had begun to breathe again.

Each morning, the manor awoke before the sun had fully crested the horizon, bursting into movement like a long-sleeping beast stretching its limbs at last. The halls echoed with the sound of hammering and saws, laughter and shouted instructions, the creak of scaffolding being raised along the outer walls. The scent of sawdust, lavender oil, and fresh-cut roses mingled in the air.

Builders worked with swift precision to repair the south and west wings…clearing debris, re-laying stonework, and restoring stained glass windows long clouded with dust and grief. The manor itself seemed to respond to the attention, walls gleaming brighter each day, halls warming with color and new life.

In the gardens, the head gardener worked with reverence, pruning overgrown hedges, coaxing new blooms from roots long buried in shadow. Roses unfurled, violets stretched open to the sun, and the once-wild grounds began to look tended and loved again. In the far field, plots were turned and tilled, ready to be planted with new crops…hope sown into every furrow.

Inside, the maids scurried through rooms with renewed purpose, sweeping away cobwebs, dusting gilded moldings, beating out carpets, and shaking life back into every chamber. Fresh linens, soft and fragrant, were laid on every bed. The kitchens bustled with the rattle of pans, clinking jars, and the fragrant simmer of stew as food was stored and sorted.

The tailor was already halfway through constructing Tamlin’s new wardrobe, consulting with you often about colors and cut. He looked glorious in deep green and gold, and you made sure the seamstresses also began working on fresh tapestries, curtains, and cushions to bring color back into every corner of the estate.

Tamlin oversaw the manor’s repair with ease, directing workers with a quiet authority that never shouted but somehow made everyone move faster.

You watched him often from afar, sleeves rolled up, sun catching in his long golden hair, his voice steady, patient, encouraging.

A High Lord reborn.

You, meanwhile, had made the household your mission. You created a rotation for the staff, ensured the healers traveled daily to the villages, checked that each supply drop had been completed. You met with cooks, gardeners, and messengers, organizing, planning, tending every crack and corner with your own touch.

Each night, when the stars emerged and the work quieted, you and Tamlin would find yourselves in front of the fire.

Always on the same rug.

Always with wine.

And always, without fail, in each other’s arms.

Some nights it was soft conversation about progress and plans. Others, you simply lay there in silence, his fingers brushing circles along your back, your head on his chest, your heart beating in time with his.

But the tension built.

Every touch, every glance, every kiss goodnight grew longer, hungrier.

A fire smoldered between you, licking higher with each day you worked side by side, lived side by side, breathed side by side.

And now, as the week drew to a close and the manor sparkled like a gem returning to the light, Tamlin walked you up the stairs in a quiet hush of candlelight and woodsmoke.

You reached your door, the air between you charged with everything left unsaid.

He stepped close. “Sleep well,” he murmured, voice deeper than usual.

You looked up at him, already swaying slightly toward him. “Tamlin…”

The moment cracked.

His mouth was on yours in an instant, claiming you in a kiss that scorched away everything else. His hands found your waist, then your back, then buried in your hair, pulling you to him like he couldn’t bear another inch of space between you.

You gasped into his mouth as he backed you against your bedroom door, lips bruising, tongues tangling, your fingers gripping the front of his tunic like it was the only thing holding you upright. His hands roamed your body reverently, dragging over the curves of your waist, the swell of your hip, up your ribcage, branding your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Gods,” he breathed between kisses, “you’re driving me insane.”

He kissed you again, rougher this time, pouring a week’s worth of restraint into a single press of his mouth. His scent, wildwood and rain and heat, was everywhere, and your knees buckled with the overwhelming need to feel him.

All of him.

His hands found your thighs, lifted you just slightly so your body aligned with his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips parting for him again with a soft whimper, your head spinning.

But then he pulled back.

Breathless.

Shaking.

“If I don’t stop,” he said hoarsely, “I won’t stop.”

You stood there, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses, pupils blown wide with desire. “Then don’t,” you whispered, voice trembling.

He groaned softly, pressing his forehead to yours, trying to steady himself.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered.

One hand cupped your cheek, while the other traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful.”

You closed your eyes at the gentle reverence in his voice, heart pounding, every nerve ending alight.

He kissed your forehead, lingering there. Then pulled back with visible reluctance.

“Good night, my little flower,” he whispered.

And before you could speak, before you could beg him to stay or throw open the door and pull him inside, he turned and walked down the hall.

His hands were clenched at his sides.

And you stood there, stunned, panting, your body still singing from his touch, your soul aching at the depth of something neither of you could deny any longer.

*****

The moonlight spilled in soft silver slants across your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs as you lay wide awake, your pulse still echoing with the heat of Tamlin’s kisses.

You hadn’t even closed your eyes before your thoughts wandered back to him.

Always to him.

Tamlin.

The male who, only a few weeks ago, had been a ghost of himself.

Hollow-cheeked.

Worn thin.

Moving through his manor like a fading shadow.

But not anymore.

Now… he was slowly becoming someone else.

Or maybe not someone new…maybe the male he had once been, the one buried beneath pain and shame and a thousand regrets.

And it was you who was watching him return to himself, piece by piece.

You saw it in his posture.

He stood taller now, shoulders squared, head held higher, his steps steadier.

You saw it in his body, in the way the sun had returned warmth and gold to his skin, kissed his cheeks with color, and deepened the tone of his once-pale frame. His muscles filled out again as he worked the fields alongside his people, no longer a High Lord hiding behind glass and stone, but among them, with them.

He smiled now.

He laughed, soft and cautious at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

And then, more and more, like it was natural.

Like it felt good to feel joy again.

And gods… he was beautiful.

You could hardly look at him sometimes without your breath catching…golden and strong and quiet in his intensity.

But it wasn’t just the beauty of his face or body that undid you.

It was the way he looked at you.

The way his eyes softened when they landed on you across the gardens.

The way he held you like he was terrified of breaking you, even when you pressed against him like you needed him to breathe.

The way he kissed you…like it meant something.

Like you meant something.

You weren’t falling in love with him.

You were in love with him.

And just as you whispered the truth of it silently to the ceiling above, the bond shimmered to life…dark and cold, like a sudden wind through an open window.

Rhys.

His voice filled your mind sharply.

“You were supposed to return days ago. Are you planning to come back within the week or not?”

You sighed and closed your eyes.

“No,” you sent calmly. “It will be another week. We’re close to finishing, but the work is not done.”

His reply was instant, scalding.

“That wasn’t the mission. You were to assess, open talks, and return. I have other courts needing emissaries, and I expected your loyalty—not for you to play house in some decaying garden with an overbearing High Lord who’s failed his people.”

You bolted upright, fury rising in your chest like fire.

“That’s unfair,” you shot back. “Spring Court is not beyond saving. Tamlin is putting in the work. The people are healing. They needed help, and I offered it. If you want trade alliances, they have to have something to trade. This is how that starts.”

“That is not your problem to solve.” His voice was sharp with finality. “Your priority is Night Court. Your duty is to me. If you’re not back in a week—with a formal trade agreement—you will face consequences. Choose your loyalties wisely.”

And with that, he slammed the bond shut, cutting you off so abruptly it physically jolted you.

You sat in the silence, heart thudding, mouth open in disbelief.

Consequences.

For doing what was right.

For helping people who had been abandoned.

For believing someone could rise again from their worst mistakes.

And worst of all… you didn’t know if you could choose.

Because even now, even in the middle of your swirling anger and hurt, all you could think of was Tamlin.

The male down the hall who saw you.

Trusted you.

Was changing because of you.

The male who, in a week’s time, had gone from a stranger to the center of your thoughts…your days and your nights.

Your chest was tight.

You couldn’t breathe lying still anymore.

So you stood.

Barefoot, your nightie brushing your thighs, you slipped out of your room and padded down the corridor. The halls were dark and quiet, but you could feel him…like a golden thread tugging at your ribs, drawing you closer.

You knocked lightly on his door.

It opened almost instantly.

And there he stood.

Tamlin.

Shirtless, golden skin kissed by firelight, tousled hair falling over his forehead, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on you.

And what you saw in his gaze wasn’t just desire.

It wasn’t just relief.

It wasn’t just the pull of passion barely restrained.

And in that moment… you knew.

He wasn’t falling in love with you.

He was already in love with you too.

Chapter 9

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin x female reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin fanfic #tamlin fic #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin acotar #tamlin #tamlin fluff #high lord of spring

tamlin (acotar) - nsfw alphabet ♡

synopsis: a compilation of my nsfw headcanons about tamlin!

content: MDNI 18+, nsfw content of course, dominance, masturbation, sex, etc etc its freaky y'all

an: i got a request for this and of course i had to fill it! this is for all those tamlin lovers out there hiding in the shadows

#tamlin fluff #tamlin headcanons #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #alphabet #acotar fanfic

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

For @tamlinweek Day 4: Hair / Powers

Summary: Tamlin tries to be intimidating with magical hair, but ends up singing like a lovesick bard. Lucien survives emotional whiplash, rogue chameleons, and the overwhelming urge to kiss the sunshine out of him.

WC: 691. Read On AO3 here or below the cut.

. . .

The clearing was dappled with gold, late afternoon sunlight catching in the soft sway of wildflowers. Tamlin sat perched on a mossy log, long legs tucked beneath him and an unmistakable air of nerves about him, which he tried to disguise by fiddling with his own hair. It was absurd, really—he could shift into a bear the size of a cottage, yet here he was, flushed pink and fidgety beside Lucien.

Lucien sat beside him, arms draped over his knees, expression caught somewhere between amused and utterly smitten. His eyes wandered—innocently, at first—until Tamlin caught him staring at his own hands.

“You have… really nice hands,” Tamlin blurted, then immediately regretted it. “Not that I look. Regularly. Or anything.”

pairings; tamlin x reader, tamlin x lucien vanserra, tamlin x elain archeron, lucien vanserra x reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron, elain archeron x reader. tamlin x lucien x elain x reader. this is a poly fic!

a/n; my first tidbit of these four! still undecided on whether it will stay x reader or i’ll create an oc (leaning towards oc atm but let me know!) any thoughts or discussions for this dynamic and these four are open! my inbox is always open for them <3

warnings; none really just fluff, suggestiveness, established relationship dynamic, polycule

thinking about how hard elain would blush if you started calling her lainy.

she hides her face and muffles her giggles with the palm of her hand as you coo over her, the nickname falling from your honeyed lips in a way that has her skin prickling with heat, subtly fanning at the white-hot flush that seizes hold of her every nerve ending.

lucien positively roars with amusement at the effect you have on her, his willowy stature drifting over to the pair of you where you’re sat in the grass, hair tousled and windswept with the breeze of the spring morning. he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks and snorts at the residue of heat that emanates from elian’s milky skin, flushing her a soft shade of pink.

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: swearing, otherwise mostly fluff

Part XXVI | Part XXVIII

#english isnt my first language #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf #rhysand #sarah j maas #tamlin fluff

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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

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.

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

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

"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.

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.

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?"

"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.

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

"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..."

"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.

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

But that was a long time ago.

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..."

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

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

"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.

"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."

"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."

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

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.

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 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.

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

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

"Yes."

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

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.

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.

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."

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.

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

#tamlin fluff

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