#past Feylin

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

A single thread 🧵

One shot featuring past Feyre/Tamlin, Feyre/Rhysand, Nesta/Eris, Nesta/Cassian, Elain/Lucien, and mentions of Elain/Azriel

The following is a work of fan made fiction, the characters mentioned belong to Sarah J. Maas.

It always starts with a nightmare.

Sometimes, Feyre finds her self back on the battlefield holding Rhysand’s lifeless corpse. Or watching her sisters forced into the cauldron. There were even moments when she is back in the Spring Court manor watching Tamlin closing the door as she begs him not to leave her there.

But in the end, Feyre can never wake herself up. This dream, this nightmare never, allows her to leave until she is standing in the endless abyss. Alone. And faces whatever it has planned for her.

Feyre had voiced her concerns to Rhysand when they first started, four days since her rescue from the Spring Court. The nightmares had scared her so badly that she refused to sleep. Believing that if she closed her eyes to sleep she would not return from the nightmare that trapped her.

When she had told Rhysand why she couldn’t sleep he had brushed it off as merely a nightmare, and told her not to think about it too much. Claiming the trauma and horrors they experienced needed to work itself out in their dreams to they could get better. But for some reason, Feyre didn’t believe him then, and she still doesn’t to this day.

She never dared to voice her skepticism about Rhysand’s unbothered response to her nightmares after that. Feyre had even gone so far as to banish the thought from her mind so Rhysand didn’t come across it by accident.

The nightmares only got worse.

Feyre stared out into the darkness once again. Dressed not in her armor from the battlefield, or the rags she wore when she was human. Just the small light blue nightgown she wore to bed almost every night. With nothing to provide any reassurance of protection.

The initial fear she had felt when she had first dreamt of this place never left. Even after so many years of being forced into this empty prison it still terrified her.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.” Feyre whispered, her eyes darting out in every direction for something, anything to jump out. Nothing ever did. But the paranoia never left.

At some point her legs gave out and Feyre collapsed to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes; continuing to whisper the quite reassurances that soon she would wake up and it would all be over.

“Feyre…”

Feyre opened her eyes and lifted her head, believing for a moment that Rhysand was trying to wake her up. But it didn’t sound like him. The voice was quieter, more feminine.

“Feyre…” the voice whispers again ending in a laugh.

“Go away!!” Screamed Feyre, her voice echoing around her but it just made the voice laugh harder and harder.

“Stay with the high lord Feyre.” The voice mocked. Then it vanished, as if it was never there to begin with.

Feyre closed her eyes and lowered her head once more. This was usually where the nightmare ended. Soon she would awake in her house, with her husband, and their darling baby boy. Everything would be alright with the world and the nightmare would be over until the next night.

But when she opened them again, she was still in the abyss.

It didn’t make any sense. Feyre scrambled to her feet unable to believe her surroundings. The nightmare usually ended there, it always did! So what changed?

Then, she looked down at herself and nearly stumbled back in shock. A golden thread appeared to be attached to her night gown, right where her heart is. It stretched on and on further into the darkness until it reached someone standing a few feet away.

“Tamlin.” Feyre whispered softly.

The High Lord of the Spring, her ex fiance (her ex love), stood there dressed in a loose white shirt and green pants with brown boots and his long golden hair looked like he had just ran his hands through it. Gone was the guarded and sharp expression he had given her over the years. Instead he looked at her with the soft loving expression he always did when she was at the manor. The one she used to adore more than anything in the world.

The thread between them seemed to grow warm, like a nice sunny day and hummed with a bond that felt all too familiar.

Tamlin started walking toward her, that soft smile never faltering or growing cold and his eyes seemed so warm and inviting. Like he was the Tamlin she knew before Amarantha tore them apart. The one she had gone under the mountain to die for.

But before he could reach her the sound of scissors snipped through the air and the thread was broken. The bright warmth was replaced with the bitter frost and the golden thread faded to black.

Tamlin’s face crumpled into a pained expression and he began to reach out for her. Instinctually, Feyre reached out too, not understanding why she felt the need to ease the pain. To make it go away. They could fix it, they just had to tie the string together.

A familiar hand grasped her outreached hand and pulled her back. Feyre stumbled back into familiar protective arms. Sure enough, when she looked up it was Rhysand holding her against his warm chest. But where she normally felt protection something felt off. Almost wrong.

But that couldn’t be right, Rhysand was her mate. He loved her. Why would Feyre ever feel unsafe when he loved her?

A strange tugging sensation at her heart urged Feyre to look down at where the string used to be. No, not used to be. When Feyre looked down the string was still there. But the golden thread faded the further it went along until it lost all of its color, tied to another colorless string that faded to a dark red color attached to Rhysand. Her light blue night gown had somehow faded to a dull grey.

Wrong. It felt so wrong and Feyre wanted to back away but Rhysand used his right hand to tighten his grip on her arm and the left to pull her closer to him.

“Feyre darling.” Rhysand whispered, sending fear down Feyre’s spine.

Panicked, Feyre looked back across to where Tamlin stood, wishing he would save her, but he was gone.

Feyre desperately looked around for any sign of Tamlin, that he didn’t disappear, he can’t be gone! But instead of Tamlin, Feyre saw someone she wasn’t expecting.

“Nesta?” Feyre whispered in disbelief.

Sure enough her sister was standing a few feet to Feyre’s right. But instead of the cold and bitter expression Nesta had always wore her face looked calmer, more gentle. Gone were the battle leathers of the Valkyrie Nesta wore with pride, in its place was a dress made of fabric that swirled in orange, yellow, and reds.

Nesta also had a string attached to her heart. Unlike Feyre’s golden string this one appeared like silver. Yet attached to the other end was not Cassian, like Feyre’s expected, it was Eris.

He stood there in dark red robes accented with gold trimmings. The way Eris looked at Nesta was unlike anything Feyre had ever seen. It should have felt wrong for Eris to be looking at her sister in such a way. He wasn’t Nesta’s mate, wasn’t he?

Feyre watched helplessly as the pair started walking toward each other. The string between them seemed to glow brighter and brighter as they got closer to each other.

‘This isn’t right, this isn’t right, this isn’t right!’ Feyre thought over and over and over again.

Then the horrid snipping sound returned. Eris vanished as if he was never there and Nesta crumpled to the ground.

“Nesta!” Feyre screamed. She struggled against Rhysand’s hold but his grip was like iron.

The silver thread attached to Nesta began to fade and Feyre began to struggle harder. If she could just reach Nesta. She could tie the string to hers and Nesta would be ok. Feyre didn’t know what the strings were for but she knew they were important.

A few feet away from Nesta the darkness seemed to part allowing something to come through. But instead of Eris, it was Cassian.

Feyre stopped struggling and watched with relief as Cassian walked toward Nesta. He paused in front of Nesta and reached down to grasp the silver thread attached to her and yanked hard. Nesta screamed out in pain and tried to pull the string out of Cassian’s grip but Cassian tied the silver string to the dark blue string attached to him. The once vibrant dress Nesta wears begin to fade until the dress is pitch black.

Cassian then hauled Nesta to her feet and forced her to stand in front of him. And Nesta looked out into the abyss with the same dark yet vacant look Feyre had seen all of her life.

The horror of what Feyre saw kept replaying in her mind. As if her mind couldn’t comprehend the cruelty Cassian just used against her sister. This was not Cassian.

‘What if it’s not the one he shows you?’ A traitorous thought questions. But Feyre shakes it off.

No, the Cassian she knew would never be this cruel, especially to Nesta. They were mates. Right?

Yet Feyre doesn’t have long to contemplate the possibility of Cassian and Nesta as her attention is drawn to the left of her. The light is almost blinding but as her eyes adjust she can see Elain.

She wears what Feyre could only guess through the light is a light pink puffy dress. Elain is smiling as if the world is filled with a never ending sunlight.

Across from her stands Lucien. He has a ‘devil may care’ smirk on his face and is wearing a simple shirt and pants.

Between them, is what Feyre could only guess is their string. Yet it shines so brightly it seems impossible to tell what color it is. But what Feyre knows is that it’s attached to Elain. And if she was right, someone or something, was going to cut their string.

And Feyre did not want to see what would happen if it did.

By the sheer luck of surprise Feyre manages to break free from Rhysand’s grip and runs toward Elain and Lucien. She is unsure what she will do when she reaches it. How she will stop whoever or whatever it is that are cutting these strings. But Feyre was going to do everything in her power to stop it.

Feyre reaches out; her hand barely touches Elian’s shoulder when the world begins to scream. And Feyre wakes up.

Air rushes into Feyre’s lungs as she sits up in bed. In, out, in, out. Breathe, Feyre needed to breath she looks around the room and her eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness around her.

Feyre was home, she was not in the abyss, and the screaming was Nyx (hungry for his nightly feeding.

Rhysand groans beside her and shifts around until the pillow covers his head. Typical. Feyre rolls her eyes fondly and gets out of bed to tend to her screaming infant.

It takes a while but Feyre managed to get all of Nyx’s needs met and she collapses into the rocking chair. Nyx was feeling extra clingy and was sleeping against her chest, her heartbeat seeming to be the only thing that calms him.

As she rocks back and forth, trying to prevent herself from falling asleep, Feyre thinks over the nightmare. Every time she had been in the abyss it had never shown her that. The voice would always laugh, scream, and taunt until Feyre woke in terror. But this, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Then again it was just a nightmare. Perhaps she was looking too much into it. Yet something nagged at the back of Feyre’s mind that it was much more than that.

[thrumbolt]

Lmao people calling me a Feylin is probably the biggest insult.

I haven't liked Feyre since she turned fae. I don't want her anywhere near Tamlin. He can do better!

[queercontrarian]

dick so good and mental link so strong rhysand gets cc'd for every orgasm tamlin gives feyre between acotar and acomaf

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

this is just criminal

[chrystabelleblaumferge]

Imma say it

I hate Booktok and everything it represents (glorification of anti-intellectualism and overconsumption) so by extension I despise ACOTAR but the anti-SJM fandom, particularly the anti-Rhysand, anti-Feyre and anti-Feysand peeps are some of the most intelligent people who have come out of the fandom from a book series I genuinely loathe.

I find it ironic yet charming that the anti side of this fandom is actually filled with brilliant and bright minds as opposed to the "pro" side of that fandom who speak and act like they've been programmed by a cult to repeat the same type of opinions like a broken record. The people accused of being "vile and hateful" happened to be some of the best human beings I've ever interacted with and are willing to listen to dissenting opinions and debate in a civil manner.

In contrast, the "pro" side of the fandom who love everything these books represent are generally some of the most unpleasant and vile people I've had the displeasure of encountering. I was already uninterested in the series but was peer pressured by an insane fangirl of this series to read it expecting me to love "the twist" and the same characters she does (*cough* Feysand *coughs*). I cut her off for being a generally horrid person over a damn book all because I dared to speak my mind (she threatened physical violence over my honest critique).

I'm a general fantasy reader (think JRR Tolkien, George RR Martin, Brandon Sanderson et al.) and do not like romance books therefore dislike romantasy in general since I am not the target audience for these books. I only "read", by that I meant pirating these books to form my opinion on them, will never buy them since they're rubbish and not worth my money (plus I hate the author for being a shit human being and would never give her my money). It was bleh and I found it painful to read since I've read fanfiction that was written more eloquently than this SJM-produced slop. I always hated bad boys even as a teenage girl and that sentiment still remains as an adult. So imagine how I physically cringed when the love interests were switched.

Getting back on topic to the "pro-side", they were genuinely hateful despite their incessant preaching about "love conquers all" and on multiple occasions loved telling me I should die (classy...) for voicing my honest critique that I didn't like it. What's more, is that the common sentiment of the "pro-side" was to coerce and brainwash me into liking 'le main characters' and how I had 'internalised misogyny' for not liking something I only consider as fairy porn with no substance to keep me engaged lmao

The best part is that I'm not even a shipper of their rival ship Feylin, Tamlin, or Nesta. I am ambivalent towards them at best but I started sympathising with them given that the story made me hate the main characters and their 'Inner Circlejerk of Bougie Faerie Arseholes' that love wanking their 'Dear Dictator Leader: Ricespam' (I'll never spell his name correctly since I hate rapists like him). It also helps that the fans of these 'antagonist characters' are genuinely nice and pleasant people. I'm almost tempted to so say I love Tamlin/Nesta just to rustle the Feysand cultists' jimmies lol

It seems like they only use "feminism" when it's on their side. Not bothering to accept contrasting viewpoints from women such as myself who do not like a book and are within our rights to do so. What's even surprising is that the pro-fandom is overwhelmingly like this. They'd bully you into submission if you don't kowtow to their demands. Having been bullied in my childhood, I can absolutely recognise the same pattern of abuse that I've been inflicted on in the past. Therefore, this produced the inverse effect than the one they had anticipated. I started hating their self-insert Feyre and Ricespam even more. If they weren't so toxic, I would have just remained a general hater but them acting like Jehovah's Witnesses over a shitty book definitely made me spiteful.

All I can say is: I'll never be a fan of these books nor part of the fandom because I consider it mid. But I do enjoy the thoughtful criticism the antis of said fandom provide and will likely continue hating the pro-side of the fandom for being hateful bigots (especially the Feysand shippers, never met a nice one. Not even once).

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 9

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 8 | chapter 10 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, body shaming, Ianthe, smut - Tamlin smut specifically, I'm sorry

Words: ~6.9k

Author's Note: alexa, play 'I Hate It Here' by Taylor Swift. My poor girl Feyre. And fuck Ianthe. Lucien and Alis are godsends. Tamlin is... okay... ish. In this chapter. I hope you guys like it!

18+ only pls!

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Knocks kept coming on the door, frequently enough to wake Feyre from her sleep. She opened her eyes to see sunlight still coming through the windows, though they were lesser in intensity now.

Her eyes felt puffy and uncomfortable, and her throat was dry and scratchy. But she didn't move.

She couldn’t move. Not after all of the horrid words thrown at her in the past two days. They probably just wanted to make sure she was alive, anyway.

The door cracked open anyways, her room flooding with the scent of an alpha- Lucien.

"Feyre? Did you want to come down to dinner?" He asked softly as he entered the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

Feyre shook her head as visibly as she could from where she was still curled into herself.

"Do you want me to have something brought up here for you?"

She didn't think she could stand to eat anything right now, not with the way her stomach was churning and her brain was hissing back Ianthe's words at her.

"No," Feyre whispered as Lucien sat on her bed. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently, his warmth so soothing. He brushed a bit of hair away from her face after, running his thumb across her cheek softly.

"Is everything okay, Feyre? Did Ianthe say something to you?"

A bitter laugh left Feyre's lips. "Yes, Lucien. She did. She has made it clear to me that I am a horrid omega, and my body..." She paused, choking on tears. "My body is awful as well. I would rather spend the evening alone, and avoid any more of her wrath for being such a failure."

Lucien's scent filled with anger, and Feyre shrunk away from his touch. "Feyre, you are not a horrible omega, and your body is your body, it is perfect the way it is. You are actually quite a wonderful omega, if you'll allow me to say that," Lucien consoled, hand returning to stroke her hair. "You have gone through so much, and have only been experiencing your secondary gender for a year. You are doing perfectly, Feyre," He said, a slight alpha commanding tone to his voice. It soothed Feyre's fears, though, the fact that he was so adamant that Feyre was not what Ianthe had claimed her to be. "Tamlin is lucky to have you," he added, and those were the words that made the dam in Feyre's eyes break once more.

Feyre cried for a few minutes, Lucien’s hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Thank you, Lucien,” Feyre sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “I still would rather not go to the dining room tonight, that’s… too much pressure.”

��Would you let me have Aine bring you a tray of food?” Lucien asked with a smile.

Feyre nodded after a moment. She could eat, if Lucien wanted her to.

“Good, I’ll make sure it’s sent up as soon as possible.” Lucien stood from the bed, but turned to Feyre before he left. “For what it’s worth, Feyre, I think Ianthe is just jealous of you,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “You are much more beautiful than her, and you’re Prythian’s beloved Cursebreaker. What does some cowardly priestess have that compares to you in any way?”

Feyre gave Lucien a watery smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he turned to the door and left her room, softly closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later there was a knock on Feyre's door, only opening after Feyre said it was okay. Alis entered the room, followed by Aine who was carrying a tray of food. She set the tray on Feyre's vanity, and gave a tilt of her head to Feyre before leaving the room.

"Good evening, Feyre," Alis said softly as she approached her in her bed, extending a hand for her to take. "If you eat at the vanity, I can braid your hair for you, hmm?"

The thought of Alis's gentle hands carding through her hair sounded lovely, and Feyre took her hand, exiting her nest. She sat in the chair at the vanity, leaning back against it. Feyre was exhausted.

"Try and eat, I promise it will make you feel better," Alis said as she began brushing out Feyre's hair gently.

Feyre scrunched her nose, but did as she asked, picking up her fork and stabbing a bite of salad. She was grateful it wasn't something heavier, but couldn't help but wonder if Ianthe had picked it for her specifically.

Alis's gentle hands soothed Feyre's senses, and by the time she had finished a comfortable plait to sleep in, Feyre had finished as much of her salad as she could bear at the moment.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, Feyre, I'm here to listen. And I won't tell a soul whatever you trust me with, okay?" Alis assured as she met Feyre's eyes in the mirror.

Feyre sighed. "I might take you up on that soon, but... I just want to sleep right now," Feyre said sadly.

Alis gave her a warm smile, squeezing Feyre's shoulders before she stepped away from her. "Just know that you have people here for you, Feyre. And if I'm being honest, I wouldn't tell Ianthe a peep even if she commanded me to. I'm not too fond of her," Alis said in a hushed tone, grinning as she did. "Did you need anything else before bed?" The beta asked, her eyes taking quick stock of the room.

Feyre shook her head as she stood from the vanity. "No, I think I'll be fine. Thank you, Alis."

"It's no problem, dear," Alis said as she grabbed the mostly eaten tray of food. "Sleep well."

"You as well, Alis," Feyre said as she followed her to the door, shutting it behind her. Feyre made her way back to her bed, sinking into the mattress and burying herself under the covers.

It once only when she was still and alone that insults began to float around her head again. Omega whore. Fat. Desperate.

She cried herself to sleep once again.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Lucien woke her again, this time in the crisp Spring morning air.

He had swung into her room at around nine, and asked her, "Feyre, would you like to join me for breakfast in the gardens again?"

Feyre was silent for a moment. "No. Could we do breakfast in here instead?"

Lucien thought on it, then nodded in agreement. "I'll be right back."

He left the room, and Feyre took the time to freshen herself up slightly, brushing her teeth and splashing some water on her face. She looked... dreadful, in her opinion. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes that had only gotten worse overnight. Feyre sighed, and took the tie out of her hair and began undoing the braid Alis had so gently put in for her.

Lucien returned just as Feyre was finished brushing out her hair. He had a tray with two plates on it, both loaded with food. Feyre got back onto her bed, sitting near the end so that Lucien could pull the vanity chair over to the edge of the bed. He set the tray in front of her carefully, and Feyre was happy to see that they had nearly equal amounts of food- bacon specifically.

They ate in a comfortable silence for most of the meal, which Feyre was thankful for. She didn't feel like talking about Tamlin or Ianthe's hurtful words, or what the lack of apology from both of them meant.

Feyre ate until she was full, only leaving behind a few bites of scrambled egg that she didn't think she could finish without losing her breakfast altogether. "Thank you, Lucien. I don't feel like leaving my room today."

He nodded in agreement. "I figured as much. I’ll try to ward away Ianthe, but she’ll probably try to bother you anyways. Also I… spoke with Tamlin about training your magic,” Lucien began hesitantly.

“And?” Feyre asked, fearing she knew the answer already.

Lucien sighed. “He feels that training you at the moment would do more harm than good, but agreed to revisit the idea if you have an expressions of magic. I’m sorry, Feyre,” he added with another sigh, taking one of her hands in his.

A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek without her realizing it was there in the first place, and she let Lucien wipe it away. “I suppose I should try to light another dress on fire then, hmm?” Feyre asked rhetorically, still garnering a smile from Lucien.

“Try it on a particularly ugly one, Fey. Mother known Ianthe has given you plenty of those.”

Feyre shook her head and sighed. “Even you think they’re ugly? Is Ianthe really giving me bad clothes?”

Lucien squeezed her hand gently and said, “Not necessarily, the clothes are in fashion, they just don’t suit you well. And Ianthe does seem to love frills quite a lot…” Lucien trailed off.

“I should mutiny and burn the whole wardrobe.”

Lucien chuckled. “Now that would be an expression of magic that neither Tamlin nor Ianthe could ignore. I say go for it, Feyre.”

“Ah, yes, and your advice is always sound,” Feyre joked, taking her hand out of his and pushing him on the shoulder. “I still remember the Suriel, Luce.”

Lucien let out an exasperated sigh. “The Suriel, Fey? When will you let that go?”

“I have, I just like bringing it up,” Feyre laughed, giggling when Lucien pushed her shoulder lightly. “And you’ve apologized on multiple occasions for it, so I’ve forgiven you.”

“That’s good to know, Feyre.” Lucien smiled at her, then stood from his chair, placing it back in front of the vanity. “I should be going now, I have a few meetings to go to with Tamlin. I’ll make sure someone brings you up lunch and dinner, if you choose to not leave you room. No matter what, I’ll see you in the morning, Feyre,” Lucien said, staring her down until she nodded her head.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then, Lucien,” Feyre said with a small smile. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“It’s no problem, Feyre.” He picked up the tray of dishes, and made his way to the door. “Have a good day, Fey.”

“You too, Luce,” Feyre replied, and he shut the door on his way out.

Feyre let out a heavy breath.

Time to practice her magic.

Feyre reached in her chest for her magic, the cold ball that she'd gotten to loosen up while in the Night Court.

She tried gently to move her magic within her, see if she could do something to change Tamlin's mind.

It was frozen solid again, unwilling to budge even the smallest amount.

Worry built in Feyre's chest as she tried and tried to get movement in her magical core, with no success. Tears pricked her eyes.

All of her progress, gone.

And she wasn't even sure if it was normal for this to happen, for a fae's magic to solidify itself again after not being used for over a week.

The tears in Feyre's eyes rolled down her cheeks after an hour of trying, with nothing to show for her time. She fell back against her bed, feeling defeated.

This is why I need help training, Feyre thought to herself. Someone to help guide me or tell me to take a break...

Feyre let out a heavy sigh. If she couldn't get her magic to cooperate with her, she could practice her shielding. And shielding had come more easily to her, it's possible that practicing it could help loosen her core again.

She hoped.

Feyre sank into her own mind, the feeling of her mental shields soothing her, especially once she felt as though she was floating on an endless expanse of ocean.

Maybe I can get Tam to take me to the coast, soon, Feyre thought softly, noticing how her shields had a pink tinge when she thought of Tamlin. I should ask Rhys if emotions can change the look of shields...

Feyre's breathing evened out as she sank further into her shields, wrapped in them like a cozy blanket. Her fingers played in the waters of her mind, loving the way she created small ripples as she did. She was on her back, floating in the water with her hair fanning around her head. A warm light was pouring over her, buttery soft when she opened her eyes mentally.

Her mind moved quickly, adding in mountains that completely encircled the body of water she was in, looking suspiciously like those she had gazed at longingly in her week away. Trees stood proudly on the mountainsides, another place that she could hide herself if she needed. There was a log cabin on the shore, with a hammock hung from two trees sitting nearby.

Feyre swam to the shore, sinking her feet into the sand that bordered the water once she was out. She approached the cabin, noticing that it looked similar to the hut she lived in back in the human lands. Her hands ran over the smooth doorknob, twisting and pushing the door in to enter the cabin.

Inside, it was a nicer version of the home she'd shared with her family. The small kitchen, fireplace, even the door leading into the one bedroom were placed the same. She made her way into the bedroom, tears in her eyes at the sight of the large bed, exactly as it was when she'd left that fateful night.

Feyre walked over to the bed, and sank down onto it. She could almost picture Nesta and Elain getting ready for bed, brushing out their hair and changing into their nightgowns. Feyre laid down, tears flowing freely now.

She had a complicated relationship with her sisters, of course, but she missed them. She missed the feeling of snuggling in for body heat, even when it wasn't too terribly cold.

She missed her sisters.

Feyre buried her face in one of the pillows, wishing she was surrounded by their familiar scents.

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she was aware of was Ianthe bursting into her room, Tonilia behind her carrying a tray with a bowl and cup on it.

"Feyre, really? A nap in the afternoon? This is what's so important that you can't bother to plan your own wedding?" Ianthe scoffed.

Feyre was silent, busy wiping the sleep from her eyes after sitting up as Tonilia set the tray down over her legs, effectively keeping her in her place.

"Not even going to answer me?" Ianthe asked as she waved Tonilia out of the room, who gave Feyre a gentle smile before shutting the door behind her.

Feyre just shook her head, not having any energy to deal with her right now.

"Fine, if you won't talk, you'll just have to stuff your face faster, Feyre. I have a lot to do, and if you're unwilling to help then I have to pick up your slack." Ianthe gestured to the tray over Feyre's legs. "Eat up."

Feyre's stomach dropped as she processed Ianthe's words, her clear disdain for Feyre. She took in the food she'd been brought, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. The soup looked to be mainly vegetable, with a few small bits of chicken in it. Feyre's eyes flicked up to Ianthe's, then back to the food.

Ianthe already had a pinched expression on her face, as though dealing with Feyre was the last thing she wanted to be doing at the moment. She let out an exasperated sigh when Feyre didn't immediately pick up the spoon, her ire prompting Feyre to do so.

Feyre ate as quickly as she could manage, stomach churning as Ianthe watched her. She managed to eat most of the soup before Ianthe sighed again, so Feyre moved on to the tea quickly.

She wrinkled her nose before taking her first sip- Ianthe always picked the worst blends, and the tea was always too hot for Feyre's throat. Nevertheless, Feyre drank the cup as quickly as she could, setting it back on the tray once she was done.

"See, Feyre? It's not that hard to do things right when you do what I ask. And you even left a bit of the soup, that's perfect. Maybe you'll fit into your wedding dress," the alpha said condescendingly as she picked up the tray. She left the room without another word, thank the Mother. Feyre didn't think she could deal with her cruel words for another second, not without bursting into tears.

Feyre breathed deeply for a few moments, doing her best to calm her nerves before diving back into her mental shields once more. The waters hiding the core of her mind were gentle, lapping at the edges of her shields before the mountains she had previously envisioned reappeared, the cabin along with it.

Her pulse slowed as she allowed her mind to fill in more and more detail, using her painter’s eye to make it look as natural as she could. Leaves on trees, thick blades of grass, a beautiful patch of wildflowers, similar to those that grew in the woods she hunted in. By the time she’d finished focusing on those, Feyre was tired enough to let sleep take a hold of her.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“Feyre?” Alis’s voice asked through her door, just loud enough to rouse Feyre from her nap. “Can I come in?”

Feyre nodded her head sleepily, before realizing that Alis couldn’t see her. “Yes, Alis.”

Her door opened and the beta entered, closing the door behind her. “Did you feel up to attending dinner in the dining room?"

Feyre shook her head, biting her lip apprehensively. She was expecting her wishes to be denied, but Alis surprised her with a smile. “Very well, I’ll bring a plate up to you. Would you like to wash up beforehand?”

Her body did feel rather dirty at the moment, as she’d stayed in bed all morning and declined to take her usual morning bath. “That would be nice, Alis. But… Would you eat with me? I don’t feel like eating alone…”

Alis gave her another smile, and nodded her head in agreement. “I would be delighted to dine with you, Feyre. I’ll go get some food for us, and you can go wash up.”

“Thank you, Alis,” Feyre said as the fae was opening her door.

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Alis replied, shutting the door behind her.

Feyre let out a long sigh before standing from her bed, stretching out her limbs to relieve some of the ache in her muscles from laying in bed all day. She stripped off her nightgown, throwing it into her laundry bin and made her way into the bathroom.

She turned on the tap, letting water fill the enchanted tub that began to heat it immediately. Feyre waited until the tub was full and steaming to slip into the water, sighing as heat poured into her body. She hadn’t realized how cold she had been.

After washing her body and halfway through washing her hair, she heard her bedroom door open, and Alis knocked softly on the wall outside of her bathroom. “Would you like any help washing up, Feyre?”

Normally, Feyre would say no, but she was so exhausted at the moment. “Yes, please,” she admitted softly, and the beta entered her bathroom, eyes respectfully keeping to her face. Alis settled behind her on her knees, taking over for Feyre’s hands and massaging the soap into her hair, nails scratching gently along her scalp in a soothing manner.

A small contented huff left Feyre’s lips, and Alis chuckled softly. Feyre didn’t feel self conscious about it, though, she and Alis had known each other long enough that Feyre felt nothing could embarrass her in front of the other fae. Alis had been the one to help Feyre feel comfortable in her new role as an omega, after all, comforting her when Feyre was confused about building her first nest. A few contented sighs were perfectly normal.

Alis guided her head to rinse her hair, so careful to not get water in Feyre’s eyes. Once it was clean, Alis set to massaging conditioner into her hair for a few minutes, massaging her scalp before rinsing her hair once more. She wrung the water from her hair before grabbing a nearby towel, wrapping her hair in it. “Alright, dear, go ahead and dry yourself off and I’ll bring a nightgown in for you.”

Feyre did as she said, dragging her body out of the warm water reluctantly and toweling herself off. She slipped on the light blue, long sleeved nightgown Alis brought her, and followed beta into her room, where a tray of food was waiting on her bed.

She settled into her bed as Alis dragged the vanity chair over and sat at the end of the bed.

Dinner tonight was roasted chicken and potatoes, as well as sautéed green beans, both of them having a nicely sized portion.

Eating with Alis was quiet and comfortable, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence tonight. Feyre just barely managed to finish her food, feeling so full and sleepy that she yawned after setting down her fork. “Dinner was delicious, thank you Alis.”

“Of course, Feyre. I thought you could use something nutritious and warm.”

Feyre gave her a small smile. “You were right.”

Alis’s expression mirrored her own as she stood from the chair, finished with her own meal as well. “I know I was,” Alis said cheekily, then gestured for Feyre to get up. “Come on, let me braid your hair.”

Feyre stood from the bed, unwrapping her hair from its towel as she followed Alis, dragging the chair, to the vanity. She sat in the chair, handing the towel to Alis, who dried Feyre’s hair as much as she could before brushing it out, smoothing out any tangles with a gentle hand. Feyre closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the sensation and lull her into a sleepy state. By the time her hair was braided and tied off, Feyre thought she could fall asleep at the vanity.

Alis led her out of the chair and into her bed, even going as far as to tuck the omega in, pillows fluffed and covers pulled up to her chin.

“Have a good night, and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, Feyre,” Alis said softly, and picked up the tray of food from where she’d moved it to the floor before leaving the room, the door snicking shut behind her.

And Feyre was alone with her thoughts once more.

Luckily, her full stomach and exhausted mind pulled her into her dreams swiftly, leaving hurtful words and actions for the waking hours.

Her dreams were filled with flying, soaring above mountain ranges and lakes like a bird, feeling the wind in her hair and whipping across her skin.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The next two days of her self imposed isolation were nearly identical to the first. Lucien roused her in the morning, asking if she would like to have breakfast outside with him, and when she declined her went to grab them both plates of food. After her left, she would practice with her magic, trying and trying to regain the progress she’d made in the Night Court, and when that failed turning to fortifying her mental shields.

Ianthe would interrupt her at midday, bringing Tonilia who carried a bowl of soup and mug of tea on a tray for Feyre. Ianthe glared at her until she finished both, and storming out with Tonilia on her heels, who always gave Feyre an apologetic smile before shutting her bedroom door.

Feyre spent her afternoons recovering from the cruel alpha’s presence, comforting herself by adding even more details to her mental shields, focusing on the waters where she hid her actual presence.

By the end of the third day in her room, she had an underwater fortress protecting herself, so many doors locked by keys that only existed when she wanted them to.

She wasn’t certain that her shields would be impenetrable, but she felt confident in their strength now.

Alis would come to her room in the evenings, helping Feyre bathe if she was too tired and bringing food for the both of them to eat.

It was only on the fourth day that Feyre woke before Lucien knocked on her door, and she had enough energy and willpower to bathe and dress herself that morning. She had just put on a pair of slippers when a knock came at her door, and Feyre rushed to answer it, ready to make Lucien proud by being awake and dressed.

She was met with green eyes and blond hair.

Tamlin.

Feyre instinctively shrank back into herself, expecting more insults to be thrown her way.

Tamlin noticed, and the regret that was shining in his eyes increased tenfold. “Feyre, I… I’m so sorry, omega.” He stepped forward, pushing into her room as Feyre retreated slowly, letting him get closer to her. “I should never have called you any of those things, I should never have blamed you for this situation. You’re not to blame for coming home like that, it’s that damn bastard’s fault,” Tamlin growled, pulling Feyre into his chest. Her arms stayed limp at her sides as he hugged her, still flooded with anxiety even as she scented her alpha. “I’m sorry, Feyre. Will you forgive me?” Tamlin asked after pulling away from her slightly to look her in the eyes.

The regret and sorrow in his eyes had her caving instantly, and her arms came up to clutch at him tightly. She buried her face in his chest and nodded, and Tamlin sighed a heavy breath of relief.

“Will you come with me? I have a surprise for you,” Tamlin asked, already pulling Feyre out into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“I said it’s a surprise, omega,” Tamlin teased, grinning widely at Feyre. It was the first time she’d seen him look happy - that I can remember – since returning home, and her chest melted at the sight.

He guided her down the stairs and out the front doors, straight to the stables where Tamlin’s preferred horse was waiting, already saddled and ready for them, a basket hanging off of either side.

“Up you go, omega,” Tamlin said as he helped her climb onto to the horse, pulling her skirts up high to be able to ride normally. His eyes tracked her movements, and made sure she was secure before climbing up behind her, his arms wrapping around her to grab the reins.

The horse started walking at Tamlin’s signal, leading them to wherever Tamlin had planned. Once they were out of sight of the manor and in the trees of the forest, Tamlin’s lips kissed a slow path down her neck, sending shivers up her spine.

Feyre pressed back into him, leaning into his hold as he repeated the action on the other side. One of his hands let go of the reins, and slinked up Feyre’s thighs, stomach, to rest on her right breast, squeezing softly. Feyre gasped, completely melting into the alpha behind her and hands gripping his thick thighs that were caging her in.

Tamlin chuckled lowly in her ear, pressing a soft kiss just underneath it before the horse came to a stop.

Feyre hadn’t realized she had shut her eyes, but they flew open when they halted, her eyes taking in the clearing they were at.

The pool of starlight.

It was even more beautiful than Feyre remembered, most likely due to her new eyesight. The silvery waters rippled appealingly, and Feyre wondered if sipping starlight would make her feel new again.

Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

Tamlin climbed off of the horse, extending his hands to Feyre to help her down. Once she was safely on the ground, he turned his attention to the two baskets tied to the horse, taking them and the saddle off and allowing the horse to graze as it pleased. One of the baskets held a large blanket which Tamlin laid out on the grass near the pool, patting for Feyre to sit down next to him.

She did, snuggling into his side as he went through the second basket, pulling out a selection of fruits, crackers, cheeses, and thinly sliced meats, as well as a couple of bottles of sparkling fairy wine.

“You planned,” Feyre hummed as she took in the spread of food, watching as Tamlin pulled out a small knife and began to slice up an apple.

“I did, sweet omega,” Tamlin said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“That works for me,” Feyre replied before he placed a slice of apple in her mouth. It was juicy and slightly tart, absolutely lovely. Feyre hooked her arms around his left one, pushing her body further against him. “I missed you, alpha,” she whispered.

“I missed you too, omega. No more fighting, hmm?” Tamlin asked, feeding her another slice after she nodded in agreement. “Good.”

Feyre took a chance, letting go of Tam’s arm and instead pulling it over her shoulder, snuggling into his chest and breathing in his scent. He simply kept feeding her and himself, every now and then scenting the top of her head. Feyre’s omega relaxed with every bite, every minute spent in peace with him.

Once they’d finished eating, the two of them laid back on the blanket, taking in the puffy clouds floating by slowly, the gentle rustle of leaves from the slight breeze. Feyre had nearly drifted off when Tamlin’s hand began to wander below where it had been caressing her shoulder, going lower and lower with each pass, before finally his hand squeezed her ass softly, drawing a quiet moan from Feyre. She tilted her head to smile up at him, eyes blurry with sleep. She puckered her lips slightly, the closest she could get to demanding a kiss at the moment. He obliged her, pressing his lips hungrily to hers, and his change in scent made her wake up quickly.

He claimed her lips, taking Feyre’s breath with him when his other hand came to caress her neck, brushing over her scent gland teasingly.

“Alpha,” she moaned needily, pressing her front closer to him, needing to feel him everywhere. He pushed her back so she was flat on the ground, and covered her body with his, slotting himself between her hips after pressing the skirts of her dress out of the way, and Feyre whined at the feel of him against her, even fully clothed.

“You smell delicious, omega,” Tamlin remarked as he slid his lips over Feyre’s neck, sucking dark marks along the expanse of it. “So needy, so perfect, and all mine,” he growled, pressing his hips down harder.

“Yes, alpha, all yours,” Feyre mewled, her hands scratching over Tamlin’s shirt, wishing they were already unclothed so she could feel their skin together. Tamlin seemed to have the same thought, ridding himself of his shirt quickly and working to free Feyre from her dress, tossing them to the other side of the blanket before returning to Feyre’s neck, mouth moving lower and lower, finally catching on the edge of her bra.

His eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat when he undid the clasp and removed it from her chest, immediately giving attention to her breasts. Her back arched when his teeth grazed over her nipple, his answering chuckle only making her pull herself closer to him. He moved to the other one, sucking a light mark on the underside of it before kissing lower, traveling down the expanse of Feyre’s stomach, straight to the hem of her panties.

She was leaking slick at this point, she knew, and Tamlin could obviously smell just how effected by him she is, judging by his smirk and playful eyes. More slick gushed out of her once Tam’s teeth latched onto the hem, pulling her panties away from her center slowly, a string of slick connecting them together.

Feyre would have been embarrassed, but Tamlin’s eyes were hungrily devouring her core so thoroughly there was no room for doubt about if he was pleased or not.

He lost his patience after a moment, using a claw to shred through the fabric so he could set in on his second meal- Feyre.

Moans spilled from Feyre’s lips as Tamlin lapped at her core, licking up every bit of slick he could find before sucking at her clit. Her hips were already shaking, only driving Tam to work his tongue faster, and one thick finger entering her was enough for her to tip over the edge, pleasure blinding her as her hands clutched at his hair, holding him to her center as she rode out her high.

As soon as her hands slackened their hold, he pulled away, shucking off his pants as quickly as he could manage before returning to his omega, slotting himself between her legs and pushing into her in one stroke, all the breath leaving her lungs as he filled her.

When he pulled out slightly Feyre whined, walls clenching down on him and causing him to groan. “So tight, omega,” he moaned, punctuated by thrusting back in, and Feyre’s answering moan was more than enough for him to set a fast pace. His lips hovered over her scent gland, grazing slightly every now and then, sending jolts of pleasure through Feyre.

“Alpha, please,” she begged, not knowing if it was more for his knot or his mark, but that either would please her. He bit lightly on her gland, just tipping her over the edge again, and he followed soon after, pushing his knot into her cunt and locking them together as he came deep inside of her.

She was floating, or that’s what it felt like, being held in Tamlin’s arms and locked to him, his hands smoothing over her hair gently as they both came down.

Half an hour later his knot had deflated enough to separate themselves, Feyre whining at the sensation of being empty.

“Do you want to swim, Fey?” Tamlin asked softly into her ear, a hand still playing with her hair as he held her against his chest. She tilted her head up to look at him, and saw excitement in his eyes.

If he wanted to swim, she would swim.

“As long as we can cuddle afterwards while we dry off.”

Tamlin smiled down at her, kissing her forehead. “Of course, Fey. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood up, then helped her to her feet. The two of the slipped into the starlight waters, smiling giddily at each other as they both took a sip from the other’s hand, happiness bursting across their senses as they did.

Feyre giggled and pressed herself into Tamlin, hugging him tightly and nuzzling into his chest as he pulled them into deeper waters. He swept Feyre off her feet once she could barely touch, clutching her to his chest as he spun around, laughing with her when she splashed his face with starlight.

She leaned up, licking a trail of it from his neck before kissing him hungrily, and both of them were breathing heavily once she pulled away.

He had her again, her upper half pressed on the grass as he pounded into her from behind, both of them still standing in the pool. He barely managed to keep himself from knotting her, instead pulling her back onto the blanket so they could dry off, basking in their pleasure as they laid on their sides, facing one another.

Feyre could feel their uninterrupted time coming to a close, but… she needed to talk to him.

“Tam, I know it’s… Important for the wedding to be traditionally Spring, but… would you be able to speak to Ianthe? She’s said some…” Feyre paused, and looked away from his beautiful green eyes. She didn’t want to talk about this, but she needed to. “Unkind things about my body, and I just don’t think I can handle planning the wedding if she continues to be so controlling and harsh on me.” She bit her lip nervously.

Tamlin’s hand came to caress her face, tilting her head so she would look at him. “Of course, Feyre. You are my future Lady of Spring, I want you to feel comfortable. I’ll talk to her, make sure she knows that you input matters. And I’ve already told her to ensure that there is no red at the wedding. I am sorry about that, Fey,” Tamlin said sincerely, giving her a soft smile, one that she returned at his promises.

“Thank you, Tam,” Feyre said, snuggling into him and peppering kisses on his chest and neck. Something akin to a purr rumbled through his chest, and his scent changed once more, deepening with lust.

Feyre was sure they would make love once more, but a horn cut through the air just as she started to kiss him, and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, love, that’s our cue to return home,” he said regretfully, pulling their clothes over to his side. He dressed Feyre, hands lingering on her curves as long as he would allow, before dressing himself and packing up their things and re-saddling their horse.

“Up you go, omega,” he said as he helped her atop the horse once more, following after her and beginning their ride home.

“What was the horn for?” Feyre asked, leaning back into Tamlin’s strong hold.

“I sent a scouting party to the West after a few reports came back about the welfare of the villages, and they’ve just returned. I was hoping it would be later in the day, though,” he whispered into her ear, a hand gripping her thigh as he did. “I’m planning to take more time with you, though, omega. Don’t you worry.”

A pleasant shiver went down Feyre’s spine at the promise, wishing that it could be now. No time with her alpha was ever enough, it seemed.

They were home soon enough, dismounting at the stables where a number of guards were gathered, obviously the ones from the scouting party if the state of their weapons- bloody and used- were anything to go by.

Feyre was nearly grateful to see Ianthe, her scent an unwelcome but needed change from the metallic tang of blood coming from the guards. “Ah, Feyre, come with me, we have some planning to do,” she said, attempting to tug Feyre back into the manor.

“Ianthe, a quick word?” Tamlin demanded, pulling her aside.

Feyre couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but assumed it was what they’d talked about. Lucien’s voice made her turn her head, and with the way he was staring at her, she was sure he’d said something to her.

“What?”

“Did you have a good morning?” Lucien asked, a sparkle in his eye. He had obviously known Tamlin’s plan, and could see the joy radiating off of Feyre.

“Mhm, we had a lovely swim,” Feyre replied, and Lucien snorted at her.

“I’m sure, Fey. I’m also sure the local wildlife is traumatized now.”

It was Feyre’s turn to laugh, swatting him on the arm just as Tam and Ianthe returned to her.

“I’ll see you at dinner, omega,” Tamlin said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before following the guards who were now headed inside of the manor. “Let’s go, Lucien.”

The redhead smiled once more at Feyre before following after their High Lord, leaving Feyre alone with Ianthe.

“Well, Feyre, let’s get to planning. We have a lot to make up for, for these past few days. We’ll manage, though,” Ianthe said sweetly, but Feyre could tell it as fake.

Still, she let the alpha drag her back into that sitting room, taking her place on the couch and accepting that fake sweetness was better than thinly veiled insults. And, she wanted to have some input on the wedding.

And it would make Tamlin happy if she tried her best to get along with his dear friend. So she would do it, for him, even if Ianthe showing her fifteen different types of ribbons to tie the bouquets made her want to claw her eyes out.

After all, he had nearly marked her today, a sign that he wanted it as badly as her.

So she would plan their wedding, and hopefully make her dress something more her this time. Anything else, she didn’t care too much about.

As Ianthe pulled out yet another type of ribbon, Feyre merely nodded her head at Ianthe’s suggestions, picturing herself and Tamlin holding a child bearing both of their features, instead of how her bouquet would look with said ribbon.

Yes, for Tamlin, she could do this.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @homeslices @holypizzaqueen

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[fourteentrout]

Santa Has Returned (With Fanfiction)

Hello again, @positivelyruined ! I said I had more gifts in my Santa bag, and I wasn't lying! I come bearing a ridiculously long Feylin oneshot for the @acotargiftexchange called Read Between the Lines, and I sincerely hope you like it!

Pairing: Feyre Archeron/Tamlin

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 25,199

It's been an absolute blast being your Santa for this event, and I really hope you enjoy both my previously posted art, and this new addition to your ACOTAR stocking! These characters were really fun to figure out, and I hope I conveyed them in a way that suits your liking.

I hope you have a happy, healthy holiday season!! Thank you so much for being a part of this event.

And for anyone else interested, here's a snippet below!

Feyre paces and finds herself, embarrassingly enough, holding back tears. It seems that these days, when she isn't puking her guts up, she's either lost to grief and frustration and guilt, or completely, utterly numb. The only times she finds true bliss is when she and Tamlin make love. When she can lose herself in his expansive embrace, the warm, hard press of his body, the unimpeded movement that reminds her that they're alive, alive, alive . 

But even that can be overshadowed by the sleepless nights that follow. 

She needs to get out, put herself somewhere new that could spark a feeling other than dull dread. And Tamlin doesn't let her. Not without a watchful eye, not without so-called protection . It's almost laughable. Had she not proven herself? Had she not slayed horrors beyond imagination when she was a human? And yet he won't let her out of sight of people she barely knows. He won’t let her help, he won’t let her travel past the manor grounds. 

And she can't do anything about it. 

So she paces, and paces, and refuses to leave the small sitting room that she'd sequestered herself into. She can't go outside. She can't handle another inane, migraine-inducing task from Ianthe. She can't paint, not when the sight of it leaves her feeling so...empty. Or leaves her stomach clenching, visions of pleading eyes and bleeding chests swirling before her. 

Distantly, she can hear the main doors of the manor opening. 

It's strange, being able to hear and see and smell everything . Strange and overwhelming. Too much at once, all the time, with no end. Even in sleep she can never find reprieve, her nightmares practically more vivid than real life. 

She waits to see if he will come into her little hideaway, soothe her with apologetic touches and gentle words. 

It's for the best, he'll say. It's for your safety.

And she won't have the strength to say, but what about my happiness? 

[the-lonelybarricade]

TheLonelyBarricade Feysand Masterlist

All works excluding drabbles are avilable on AO3

🌶️= Smut/Works with explicit content

A Court of Faded Dreams Masterlist🌶️ - acotar rewrite/timetravel fic. (WIP)

Darling, Let's Run 🌶️ - Cat!Rhys and his general trickery (Completed)

As the River Flows Masterlist 🌶️ - Regency Feysand with a magical fated mates twist (completed)

Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist - A slice of life chronicalling the adventures Grim!Rhys and his reluctant wife Feyre (WIP)

Queen of Thieves Masterlist 🌶️ - Con-artist Feyre makes an ill-placed bet with the High Lord of the Night Court (WIP)

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans Masterlist 🌶️ - Modern AU where Feyre gets pregnant from a one-night stand with a violet eyed stranger (WIP)

We Bleed the Same Masterlist 🌶️ - An acotar retelling where we cut out the feylin love story entirely (WIP)

The Other Side of the Apocalypse 🌶️ - A canonverse AU following human Rhys and Feyre as they journey through all seven courts (WIP)

Canon:

Hate Me If It Helps 🌶️ - Feysand angsty sex pollen fic.

The Most Magnanimous High Lord 🌶️- Rhys gives Feyre a reading lesson

Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) 🌶️ 🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand beast form, monsterfucking, breeding kink filth

ACoMaF Wedding Scene - Canon compliant Feysand wedding scene.

The Chains That Bind Us - Feysand are married and Rhysand’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else. 

When The Glass Shatters - Feysand are married and Feyre’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else.

A Conversation At Dawn - Rhys takes a quiet moment to reflect with his mother. 

Just Can't Prove It - Feyre meets a stranger on a flight

All By Design - What if Isaac Hale was Rhys all along?

-

AU:

It’s Nice to Have a Friend  🌶️ - part 1 ⟡ part 2 -  Modern AU best friends to lovers/accidental kiss.

Ten Past Five 🌶️ - plotty Feysand NYE meet cute

Snow on the Beach 🌶️🌶️ - Daddy kink, Feysand join the mile high club

Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself 🌶️🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand Sugar Daddy AU 

The Music of the Night 🌶️🌶️- Demon!Rhys visits Feyre in her dreams (dub-con)

Violent Delights 🌶️🌶️ - Feysand vampire smut (dub-con)

Be a Doll, Darling🌶️🌶️ - Feyre's Sex Doll comes to life (dub-con)

Cakes & Cupid - Birthday party meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Scaring Is Caring - Halloween themed meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Arrowmusings B-day Present - Lucien x Rhys x f!reader fluff (Modern AU)

Long Story Short - Feyre gets stood up in a restaurant. (Modern AU)

The Dating Game - Modern fake couple AU. (Modern AU)

The Outlier - part 1 ⟡ part 2 - Timetravel fluff / university AU. (Modern AU)

A Letter Never Sent - Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Caught Up In You - Rhysand Celebrity AU (Modern AU)

Don't Be a Jerk (It's Christmas) - Coffee Shop Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Down the Water Well - Eldritch Horror Vibes AU

if you ever think you got it wrong - modern hurt/comfort friends to lovers

Good Morning, Darling - Feysand & baby Nyx fluff 

Behind You - Batboy Snowball fight featuring Nyx

Like An Illyrian - Rhys and baby Nyx fluff

No One Has to Know What We Do - vaguely smutty angst

Every Time I Look at You, It's Like the First Time - Feysand fluffy proposal

Guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats - Feyre drunk at a party

[feylinweek]

What an incredible five days we had. A huge thank you to who participated whether through contributions or simply spreading the event around. Every fic, moodboard, poem, art, etc. was incredibly appreciated. It was an honor to run this week and appreciate Feylin with all of you, and to make next year's better you can share your thoughts and opinions on the event.

Masterlists will be released May 9th at 6:00 PM EST, and submissions will be reblogged even past that date but only submissions before will be added to the Masterlists.

To fun and Feylin, see you next year 💚

[bookishfeylin]

Of Beast and Beauty

@feylinweek

For Feylin Week Day 4: Beauty and the Beast. This references some of my other oneshots where I delve into Tamlin's childhood and adolescence.

It begins when Beron makes a small, snide comment to Feyre at the first meeting of all the High Lords around a year after Amarantha.

“How can you love a monster like that?”

At the time she’d rolled her eyes and turned to talk to Tarquin instead, not noticing how Tamlin had stiffened beside her.

Tamlin had implied that he was viewed as more… animalistic, perhaps, than other Lords due to his shapeshifting abilities. And Feyre sensed that there was something very important about Tamlin’s past that he was refusing to share with her, as her lover himself seemed to have a curious love-hate relationship with his magic. And after Beron’s comment, Tamlin had grown more distant. 

But after days of her seeking him out and being relentlessly affectionate, Tamlin was acting normal, and had seemingly forgotten what Beron had said. 

Seemingly.

But it's after they announce their engagement that the drama truly begins, in the form of Rhysand winnowing directly into Rosehall manor one bright spring day. He’d walked through the hallways, dodged Tamlin as he attempted to throw Rhysand out, and casually slid into Feyre’s painting room, closing the door behind him. 

Then Rhysand turned around on his heels and said, “you do know what he is, don’t you?”

Feyre had been stunned, at first, that Rhysand would be so bold that he’d stroll into her painting room in broad daylight, but she quickly recovered and glared at him. “Get out.”

“Hush, and listen to me. You know that your fiance is a beast, don’t you?”

“Get out of here, Rhysand, and don’t speak of him that way.” Her voice trembled, and Feyre slowly sat down her tray of paints on the easel she’d been using. With a flick of her hand, Feyre summoned a small flame between her fingers, but Rhysand merely looked at the fire and shrugged. 

“I’m trying to talk to you,” Rhysand began, before dematerializing into a cloud of shadow when Feyre attempted to flick her flames onto him. He rematerialized behind Feyre and grabbed her, holding her arms together tightly and preventing her from using her magic. “Perhaps you haven’t been told that Tamlin spent a decade straight of his life as an animal?”

That made Feyre freeze, and she turned around to look at Rhysand, frowning. Tamlin had what?

“As I said, your fiancé is a beast, Feyre. Do not let the façade of civility he wears convince you otherwise.”

Then Rhysand was gone, and soon even the shadows had retreated so hard it was almost impossible to believe he’d been there.

With a sigh, Feyre walked over to the doors of her painting room, opening them to reveal a stricken-looking Tamlin.

“Tam—“

Her fiancé flinches at the sound of her voice and pulls away from her touch, and a heartbeat later he’s gone, disappeared out the window in a flash of light. 

~~~

Tamlin doesn’t return for hours, and by the time dusk begins to bleed into night he’s still gone.

After a quick conversation with Lucien, asking him to look after the manor while she’s gone, Feyre grabs a blanket and pillow and heads off into the woods, determined to track Tamlin down so she can, at the very least, sleep beside him tonight. 

Feyre spends several hours checking all of Tamlin’s favorite hiding places, and glares at any puca who attempt to follow her—though they know to keep their distance from the future spouse of their High Lord—and in the end winds up in a meadow on one of the rolling hills overlooking the manor. It’s beautiful view, looking at Tamlin’s lands—their lands, and Feyre is content to sit and stare at their home and the night sky beyond it while the gentle breeze carries her scent around the forest, trusting she knows Tamlin well enough to know he won’t leave her alone, at night, in the middle of the forest. 

It’s not long before her patience is rewarded when a giant, golden beast slowly emerges from the woods, giving her an exasperated look, before trotting toward and curling around her.

Leaning against Tamlin with the blanket over her shoulders and the pillow at the back of her head, Feyre begins to stroke the fur around his antlers, before whispering, “Tell me, if you want.”

He looks at her, his green eyes oh-so-recognizable even in his beast form, before nuzzling against her torso as he begins to speak. As he speaks of his father and his older brothers, of railing against injustice and years forced in a form not his own as punishment. 

The truth wears on Feyre like a cold, heavy stone. 

She’s not sure how to comfort him, or what she can say, to tell him his father was wrong about him, to voice the absolute horror she feels that a parent could do that to their own child, to convince Tamlin that he’s not a monster or creature or beast when he has spent centuries thinking otherwise. A few loving words cannot ease centuries of pain. Telling him he’s not a beast won’t do anything to prevent him from ignoring her and continuing his self-loathing.

So in the end, she declares something else. “I love you no matter what you are, Tamlin. If you are a man then you are mine. If you are High Fae then you are mine. And if you are a beast, then you are my beast.” And she holds him close.

And as beauty holds her beast and her beast cradles her, they finally, finally manage to find peace and fall asleep.

[achaotichuman]

Bravery Is In Spite Of Fear

Day 2 of Feylin Week!! I hope you guys enjoy the feels in this one!

Prompt- Protection

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

“Will you be okay?” 

Her hands on his arms, eyes glaring into his. Feyre attempted a staredown with the male towering over her. Tamlin raised an eyebrow as Feyre slowly sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring. An intimidation tactic that she slowly realized was working very poorly. 

Tamlin put his hands on her waist and leaned down to whisper, “I will be fine.”

“You cannot be sure.” She countered with, “Hybern is dangerous and I-”

“Feyre I swear.” Tamlin took her hand, the hands with black swirling tattoos. She turned her glaring eyes to stare at it in disgust. Feeling the Night Lord’s hands on her bare body once more, she shuddered, eyes falling closed at the memory. 

A part of her was still closed off the male standing before her. Still left in that pit of utter despair and hopelessness. Every night was a struggle to not fall into it, to not go back to living in that dark cell in her dreams. 

Tamlin wasn’t any better, staying in beast form when he could not sleep, and pacing the grounds when the walls became too much like the rocks of the Mountain. 

The same coin, two different facings. They struggled at the start, but with the past only getting further behind them, new trouble lay ahead. With Tamlin now being requested to visit the Court that witch originated from. 

The thought of him back in a scene like that again. Back at her mercy. Back in the darkness. Back in that danger. 

Feyre grabbed his wrist and forced him closer, standing to the tips of her toes to harshly say, “I will not let you be hurt again. I will not let you be taken from me again.”

She said it, and she clamped her mouth shut after she did. Broaching the topic she had been keeping locked inside her. How it felt like torture to see him leave every morning. To not be close, to be gone, to not be around. Like at any moment, claws of red would emerge from the darkness and whisk him away, to where she would never see him again. 

To lose him again… it would break her. In a way she didn’t think she could possibly recover from. 

Tamlin had gone silent, he watched her with those deep green eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. Saw past the exterior and into a part of her she had been keeping locked up tightly. 

Everything she kept locked up, the chains loosened at the look in his eyes. She screwed her eyes shut because she couldn’t, not yet, she couldn’t face what was underneath her yet. 

“Feyre.” He whispered, not a question, just acknowledgement. Still keeping her eyes tightly sealed, she felt a soft, tender kiss to the crown of her head. 

Just like the loosened chains in her soul, her eyes gave away from the tension, against any will of her own. Like it all crumbled before him. 

She held onto his hands. Grasping his fingers tightly, “Please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You never lost me.” He murmured, pressing another kiss, this one to her brow, “You have never lost me.”

A tear, hot and wet slid from her eyes and down her cheek. Burning into her with the sensation. One hand released hers and he wiped it off with his thumb. Catching her chin between his fingers, Tamlin coaxed her into looking up at him, so she did. Meeting those spring green eyes with her stormy blue. 

It was strange the things that mirrored each other in them. If he was the soul of the land, Feyre felt like the wind and sky, the storm that rained down on the Earth. Unbound and wild. Though she tried to keep the wildness down, if only because it was another form of protection in the newly bloomed Prythian. 

“Swear it to me.” She demanded, “Swear you will be okay.”

“I swear it.” Tamlin said, with all the sincerity in his words as the day he had said those beautiful and still dreadful words, “I love you, thorns and all.” That day had always signified the change in their relationship, she couldn’t help but love it, but hate it all the same time. If only she had whispered it back, instead of pretending to sleep. 

She released a breath, then launched forward, sending him sprawling to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his middle. 

“Feyre!” He shouted, but unable to hide the laugh behind the words. 

“I will not let you go!” She said, despite herself a smile bloomed on her face, “You will have to pry yourself from my cold, dead hands.”

In an instant, Tamlin flipped them around, pinning her to the soft carpet of their bedroom. Staring down at her with a satisfied grin, “Cold and dead? You seem very alive to me.”

She huffed as she struggled against his hands. But was no match, even if Tamlin had lost some muscle due to the stress of the days after the Mountain, he was far stronger than her. That did not mean Feyre would not, or could not, put up a fight. 

She kicked up into him, causing Tamlin’s breath to whoosh from his lungs as she quickly scrambled and flipped them back over. Straddling his waist, she grinned with victory. Tamlin laughed, as he let his hands drift to her waist. Seemingly content to remain put. 

“Alright then, my thorn, you have me beneath you, what will you do with me?” The words were amused, meant to incite whatever Feyre had next planned. 

She considered him for a moment, hands drifting down the planes of his chest. Touching and feeling. One hand tangling in the waves of blond before her. Finally she said, “I want you to be safe.”

The grin slowly slipped away from his face, replaced by a tender softness. He gently took her hand and kissed the skin of her wrist, before pulling her gently down. His lips meeting hers. Feyre hummed softly, a sigh escaping her throat, as she kissed him back. The fire between them burning with their intimacy. Whilst it was not the hours long, moaning mess they both became at night, it was something deep and fiery nonetheless. Just as, if not more, intense than any long night spent together. 

Memories bore into that kiss, and Feyre felt another tear slip from her eyes. Tamlin brushed them away with ease, leaning back just enough to whisper, “I never left, and I am not leaving now.”

She nodded, she knew he wouldn’t. Knew with his full magic back, Tamlin was stronger now and could protect himself with ease. Protect himself in a way Feyre never could. But still the worry and anxiety festered in her gut. 

“I know, I just…” It was hard to forget, she wished to say, but words were stuck in her throat. She wasn’t a poet, and did not know how to conjure up the way of conveying perfectly to the male beneath her how she felt. 

“I am afraid.” She said, and nothing more. She could barely say those small three words at all. 

Tamlin looked at her, that strange look that she couldn’t understand. But then he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. Feyre laid her head down on his chest, pressing herself tightly against him, keeping him as close to her as their physical bodies allowed. Like if she just held on tightly enough, he wouldn’t leave. 

He kept his big arms tightly around her. His warmth seeping into her, pushing back something horribly dark and frozen, like a cold front beginning to press in. Something about the steady beating of his heart, his breathing, his skin touching hers, it all felt like it was thawing something frozen in her chest. Feyre felt her body relax against his, becoming a puddle in his arms. 

“I’m afraid too.” He whispered, which caused her arms to tighten, but he quickly continued, “But we’re brave for it.”

She blinked as she looked up at his eyes, gold flecks gleaming. Cutting through the striking green. The small traces of color and detail in his eyes that she had been unable to see until he received this new, strange body. 

“How? How are we brave, Tamlin?” Her voice was small, a hushed whisper, unable to speak louder for fear of breaking into a sob. 

“Because we are still moving forward in spite of fear.” He said, his voice harsh but solid and true. Like he was telling himself it as well as her. Tamlin cupped her face, “We are still going.”

She nodded, closing her eyes, “We are.” 

He pressed their foreheads together. Just remaining close, feeling the heat of the other, until he finally maneuvered them to stand. Feyre went easily. Standing before him as she had stood firmly the day she steeled herself to enter Under the Mountain. Despite the fear, despite the thoughts that begged to go back, despite the instinct to now pull him close and never let go again. Feyre remained upright, and strong. Her back like steel, her hands clasping his. 

“There is not a soul in Prythian more brave,” He whispered, “Then you, Feyre. Then the woman who won back Prythian.”

“No.” She said, voice ringing true, like thunder in a storm, “I did not win back Prythian, that is not what I set out to do.”

Before he could refute, before he could continue to praise her as if she were better than any God in the sky, she cupped his face and brought him close once again, “I won back you. That's what I set out to do. That is what I will always set out to do, you will never be taken from me ever again.”

For once Tamlin appeared utterly speechless, and Feyre smiled. A pure genuine smile. All at once the chains over her heart loosened and she did not tighten them again. 

She kissed him again and fell back into that warmth. Into that wonderful bliss. 

@feylinweek

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

You will Always be a princess

A Tamlin one shot

The following is a story of fan written fiction. Tamlin and the setting belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Note: Tamlin’s daughter is named Bellarose in this story. There are also mentions of past Feylin

Tamlin stared at the piles of paperwork covering his desk and wished he could set it aflame and be done with it. If it weren’t for the threat of death by his older brothers for even thinking of taking this position Tamlin would say the endless piles of paperwork were his reasoning for not wanting to be the High Lord of Spring.

Constant forms of complaints about neighbors, pest infestations, and at least four letters from Mrs. Glendale about people destroying her gardens or talking too loud. There were a few serious ones about attacks or law reforms but they there always drowned out by everything else.

Tamlin sighed and leaned back in his chair. His right hand rubbing the temples of his forehead in an attempt to rid himself of the growing headache.

Perhaps he could take a break and check on Bellerose. He had promised to wander through the gardens and make flower crowns today. She would be thrilled if he decided to take her earlier than planned.

“Papa…”

Tamlin removed his hand from his face and immediately sat up. Just over the pile of paperwork he could see his darling little princess, Bellarose. She stood in the doorway of his study dressed in a light pink dress and was holding a hairbrush. Her hair was a bit messy and the white hair bow she was wearing had tilted to the right side of her head.

The most concerning part for Tamlin was that she looked like she had been crying. Immediately Tamlin leapt to his feet and moved around his desk toward Bellarose.

“Princess what’s wrong?” Tamlin asked. He knelt in front of her and gently began wiping her tears away. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No.” She replied.

“Did you trip?”

Bellarose shook her head.

“Did Uncle Lucien fall climbing through the window into the kitchen again?” Tamlin asked with a scowl.

“No Papa!” Bellarose laughed.

The sound of her laughter brought a smile to his face. At least what whatever it was didn’t cause her to lose her laughter.

“Then what’s wrong Bellarose?” He inquired.

Bellarose’s smile disappeared at the question and she appeared nervous and sad once again. She looked down and kicked the ground nervously. It seemed she chose not to wear shoes again today. This was something Tamlin would have to go over with her again but for now he wanted to focus on what was wrong.

“I don’t like my hair.” Bellarose whispered.

“What?” Tamlin looked at her in confusion. This was about her hair?

“I don’t like my hair.” Bellarose repeated. “It’s curly and tangled and it hurts when I try to brush my hair. I don’t want to deal with it anymore!”

Tamlin stared at his daughter. It sounded like such a simple problem but to her it must seem like a huge deal.

The paperwork could definitely wait, his daughter needed him right now.

“That is a big problem,” Tamlin agreed. “But there’s something I want to show you that might change your mind.”

Tamlin got to his feet and grabbed Bellarose’s hand. They walked together out of the study and turned left to go down the hallways.

The afternoon sun light was shining through the windows illuminated the green and golden accented curtains and the various tapestries hanging in the walls. Passing servants bowed in respect as the passed before returning to their tasks.

They walked until Tamlin paused in front of a wooden door with a golden handle. It was a room that Tamlin always struggled to enter due to all the memories that were held within. But this was for Bellarose.

“What room is this papa?” Bellarose looked up at her father in confusion.

“This,” Tamlin reached out and opened the door. “Is the portrait room.”

Bellarose walked in slowly and looked around curiously. Tamlin waited a moment to allow her to look on her own and build up his courage to walk into the room.

Immediately he could feel the judgmental painted eyes of his ancestors, his father, his brothers. Each painting was framed in a golden or silver frame to importance to the family. But there was only one gentle pair amongst them.

Tamlin walked until he stood in front of the painting. Bellarose, on the other hand, seemed completely entranced by the paintings around her.

“This is wonderful Papa!” She exclaimed excitedly then looked at him in confusion. “But what does this have to do with my hair?”

“Come her princess, and I’ll show you.” Tamlin encouraged.

When she was next to him Tamlin pointed to the painting he was standing in front of. “Do you see the woman in this painting?”

Bellarose nodded in response.

“That’s your grandmother.” Tamlin explains. He could feel the rush of memories and emotions trying to take over him but he pushed them down. “Your grandmother was a very important lady, just like you. And just like you she also had curly hair.”

“She looks so pretty.” Bellarose whispered.

“She is…. was, a very pretty lady.” Tamlin paused for a moment then continued. “And she passed her beauty to you princess. So if you’d like I will help you learn how to fix your hair. That way you don’t have to worry about those nasty tangles.”

Bellarose looked at the painting for a moment longer with a serious look on her face. Then, when she came to a decision, she nodded her head.

“I wanna be just as pretty as grandma.”

“Oh princess that’s impossible.” Tamlin said with a mock serious expression. He then leaned down and scooped Bellarose up into his arms. “You are already the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world!”

He grinned as the joyful happy look returned to Bellarose’s face. Knowing his daughter was feeling much better was worth everything in the entire kingdom.

Tamlin started walking toward the door. He still needed to finish his paperwork before they could play and he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible.

“Papa, what’s that one?” Bellarose asked, pointing to a painting.

That painting.

Grief slammed back into Tamlin full force stopping him in his tracks. The painting his daughter was pointing sat innocently in the corner. Still set up on the easel as if the painter could return at any moment to complete it.

“That one,” he could feel the tears threatening to fall but he held them back. “That one was made by someone Papa loved very much a long time ago.”

“What happened to them?”

Tamlin was unsure how to answer that question. It was one he had so much time to think about yet he never prepared to tell Bellarose what happened. Naively thinking she would never ask. But he promised he would never lie to her.

“They left.” He replied quietly. Silently adding every thing he wished he had said back then so that the painting had never been left of that easel, placed into this room filled with so many painful memories.

“That’s enough talk about paintings for now princess. Papa has work and you have your lessons today.” Tamlin stated, shifting the topic and shoving his feelings down once more. His princess shouldn’t have to worry about her Papa’s feelings.

“Awww.” Bellarose wined. “I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay with you! Lessons are boring!!”

Tamlin chuckled at his daughter’s antics and walked out of the room. The door shut behind them leaving the memories locked away for another day.

[shi-daisy]

hi hi it me for the CHARACTER BREAKDOWN game thing!! obvs I gotta ask u about Tamlin!!!!

Hiiiii sweetie! Okay so we're going with my best boy!

How I feel about him?

He's precious, I loved how silly and awkward he was on book 1. I think he's really handsome despite my type being brunettes rather than blondes, he is strong in a fight but I love his quiet scenes and how much he cares for his court even if this is a duty he never wanted. Tamlin owns my heart and was a comfort for me during a dark time in my past. I love him very very much!

All the people I romantically ship this character with

Man has darn harem.

First in line obviously Lucien because these two as friends to lovers would heal me and they're absolutely adorable (sjm don't ruin them) Feyre before book 3. I loved their relationship and held out hope he'd win her back, alas after book 3 even if they go back to being friends I can't see them getting back together. Still love book 1 Feylin and Feylincien tho

Briar, I'm a basic bitch and while he haven't seen Briar again and she's human, I think she's sweet and would love to see them get together as long as it does not end in tragedy or bittersweetly.

Cresseida, Also kinda crack but I could see them starting as a political marriage and the slowly fall for one another and bond over Night screwing them over. They'd be cute

Hybern. I cannot get the appeal of Tamsand because this ship is a 1000 times more compelling to me. A decent into evil by Tamlin when everyone leaves him behind as he's hurt? Bloody revenge? Spring not being destroyed but turned dark and used to destroy Tamlins enemies? Homoerotic tension? That scene where Hybern binded Tamlin with magic? Cmooooooon, I need evil Tamlin or redeemed Hybern fics with them for sustenance they're so interesting to me.

Non romantic OTP for this character

Jurian, they'd be a cool ship but given Jurian's sass and him helping Tamlin as a double agent and being buddies with Lucien too. I'd love to see them hanging out more.

Andras, these two were beasties and I headcanon Andras went out saq Feyre and meticulously planned for her to break the curse because he knew Tamlin would like her.

Unpopular Opinion

He does not need to apologize to the IC. He helped them in the war and brought Rhysand back despite all he'd done to him. Man should be left alone and book 3 actually did before SJM chose to kick him while he's down. If he apologizes let it be to Lucien and Feyre if she loses the bad attitude. Otherwise I want him to heal away from Night.

Something I wish would happen

That he gets an uncontested adorable happy ending because he deserves the world.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

Loooooove the latest Feylin fic chapter you wrote! I enjoyed seeing Tamlin back in his glory; our charming, good looking High Lord slowly gaining himself together. So handsome and confident. I loved how you described him. Could you draw him that way too?

Pretty please? ♥️

Omg🥹❤️ thank you so much

I really wanted to display a Tamlin we have never seen yet, healing confident and powerful UGH

I will DEFINITELY draw him that way just you wait😏. The hate he received this past week also refueled my passion for him lol

Thank you for reading and writing these messages I really appreciate it, a little bit personal but I lost my little elderly dog today and it has been so hard and this honestly made me smile!

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, today Ive read chapters 9-12 and honestly, at a certain point reading this book while knowing all the spoilers stops being frustrating and starts just being funny. Like, Ianthe brings up the fact that people are gonna want to kidnap Feyre for "breeding" to which Tamlin says that no one is gonna dare do that to Prythian's Saviour because then theyll be on the shitlist of the other six courts, but Ianthe says that Rhysand could and would do it because hes The Most Powerful(tm) and hes really manipulative and yeah. shes right. Obviously I know this is gonna be treated as unreasonable and as foreshadowing of Ianthe being evil all along, but shes totally right

Anyway, Rhysand continues to be unbearably annoying but not in any particularly interesting way, so I dont really have anything to say about him. I hate how hes so powerful that six courts all working together would be no match for the night court and he comes across as sooooo insincere. Like, I often talk about not being the biggest Feylin fan because its pretty boring to me, but atleast it was like, sweet because of how genuine and endearingly awkward Tamlin was

Speaking of Tamlin, guess who just keeps getting worse and worse? I had some hope for him when he reduced the guards and gave Feyre more freedom, but then he doubled them again and he did that thing with the barrier around the manor so yeah. Now, if I wanted to be a pedantic asshole I could point out that he listened to Feyre (who managed to very clearly tell him what she needs at the moment, freedom, which was great) and they were doing fine until Rhysand came back, but as much as I would like to blame Rhysand for everything, Tamlin's actions are still his own. And honestly, I find Tamlin keeping any guards around Feyre after what she told him very unreasonable

I think keeping Feyre safe has become a coping mechanism for him because he couldnt protect her from Amarantha back then so now hes trying his best to protect her from Rhysand (and others, but mostly him rn) who was essentially Feyre's very own Amarantha, and obviously its not his fault that thats a coping mechanism he developed, but it is actively making Feyre upset and making it more difficult for her to heal as well, and hes the older one in this situation, hes the guy whos dealt with intense trauma before, he should be listening to her and giving her space

The only thing where I'll kinda take Tamlin's side is him locking her in the manor when he was going to the western border and Feyre wanted to follow them, but even then the force field was way too much. But also, to me it very much seemed like he and Lucien were in a hurry to leave and it was a very hasty spur-of-the-moment decision, but also it felt like the narrative was trying to demonise him more by impling that it was more of a calculated decision. Like, idk thats the vibe that Lucien explaining to Feyre that everyone but her could pass through the shield gave me, but that might just be a personal thing. I mean, Tamlin is clearly being demonised here either way, him being so unreasonable is something that I find very OOC even with the recent trauma hes experienced. But, theres a lot of buts in this paragraph i know, I do also want to acknowledge that Feyre would likely not have wanted to go with Tamlin to this conflict-zone if he had listened to her wayyyyyy earlier and not doubled the guards again. I recognize this kind of behaviour because I also felt like I had no agency over my situation in the past and Im also a very stubborn person, and it lead to me also doing more and more reckless things in an attempt to make the people around me actually listen, and make them understand how serious I was about getting out of the situation that was upsetting me

(In case youre worried, Im completely fine now and Im leaving out a lot of detail for the sake of my privacy and so I can draw a cleaner parallel)

Speaking of Feyre's agency, chapter 12 ended with her having a panic attack because she was trapped and then Mor and Rhysand showed up and Alis just gave them to her??? First of all, insane behaviour, second of all, I hate that Rhysand is meant to be the choice guy or whatever but wont wait for her to come of her own volition. I think it wouldve been better if she had that panic attack and it ran its course and then she either called for Rhys or Mor or managed to winnow to the night court herself and thats how she got there. Also, and this is part of the same issue, I hate that Rhys is the one who originally forced her to read. I think at some point Feyre shouldve realised that all the people in the spring court are withholding information from her but!, she realises that they write shit down sometimes and exchange messages and whatnot so knowing how to read could really help her here and maybe she even thinks about Rhysand taunting her about teaching her UTM, so next time shes at the Night Court she demands that she be taught how to read herself

Because honestly, right now it seems like she has the same amount of agency no matter what court shes in, which is basically none

I was gonna end it on that snappy one-liner, but then I remembered all the stuff with Feyre losing weight and how Rhys remarks upon it and how Feyre notices herself getting thinner as well and I dont have that much to say about it, I just wanted to say that it just made me incredibly uncomfortable

But yeah, now Im done for realsies

[nikethestatue]

Antis loves to said elriel won’t happen because sjm doesn’t write forbidden romance. First I don’t think anyone should base an endgame in that I mean look a bryce and Hunt people were saying there weren’t going to end together because Hunt was her first love interest and Sarah never make endgame with firsts love interest. Mainly elriels were saying yes they are because of the evidence plus on the book it was confirmed they are mades😂 and even after that antis ask sjm on the live if Hunt is her real mate and look at the face she made of wtf. She could easily decide she wanted something different for elriel and you can see that because of the evidence we have ,it doesn’t matter if she has never write a friends to lover/forbidden romance is the fact she has foreshadow the trope for 3 books now. I am not saying we shouldn’t look at her past book for guidance because of course she has a way to write her books but it doesn’t mean she is going to copy paste everything is the same dilemma with chaol having a book and az will have one because cahol did😂that is not reason enough give me evidence or foreshadowing that this is going to happen in what part of the book does it show he is having a separate story line or how gwyn will save illyria like i get you want that but where in the book is that foreshadow it was not like in the book said “ and Gwyn look at illyria like a opponent “ “azriel has always wanted to help illyria” “something like a charge went between az and gwyn “ nothing of that happened. If sjm write a book like that I think more than one will be like well the hell this came from?

I love theories but to me if there is not multiple evidence for it then is just a fanfic.

You are right Anon.

The thing is that there are more than one 'forbidden love' storylines in Crescent City happening already. In ACOTAR, we have everyone's fan faves--Helion and LOA. We have Mor and Andromache. So to say SJM 'never' does something is plainly false. If we are talking about 'mains' we've only had 4 'main' couples in all of SJM writing--Aelin and Rowan, Rhys and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian and Hunt and Bryce. So that's not exactly an overwhelming number of examples to build any hypothesis on.

Also, do people really want to read the same story again and again and again? It's kind of weird to me. It also doesn't have to fall into tropes. I know that the TikTok crowd can't comprehend anything that's written if it doesn't fall into a certain trope, but experienced authors like SJM write stories. They don't write tropes. And I don't see SJM as a trope writer. She might be a reteller, but she doesn't take your basic trope and then just sticks characters into it. So to say that she can't write something that had an element of forbidden love in it is frankly insulting. And a bunch of nonsense. Because of course I've also read 'theories' how she doesn't write friends-to-lovers...so Elriel can't happen. By the same token, what would Gwynriel be then? What are they, if not friends-to-friends?

People make up all kinds of crap to fit a circle into a square. It's just pure silliness.

"SJM can't' 'SJM won't!' -- it's so stupid. This is the chick who destroyed Feylin and set Feyre up with an evil, ruthless High Lord. Really? she 'can't'? She can. And she does.