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northern-polaris · 6 months

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I'm out of my head, of my heart and my mind

Description: I wrote some tamsand and SOMEONE(YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) bullied me into posting it so please accept this brainrot. Warnings for canon stuff that happened utm but it's not elaborated on.

Rhysand never liked Lucien.

The seventh son of the Lady of Autumn. Born during a time of delicate peace between courts. Overshadowed by the siblings that towered over him. Unremarkable and of no use save for the snort Rhysand smothered the day when the child was presented as Beron’s at the high lords’ meeting.

One look at the boy could tell anyone otherwise.

It was a much needed source of amusement amongst the boredom, the gathering was completely devoid of any of value. Nothing justified him being there whatsoever.

Tamlin was absent from that day’s meeting.

Years would pass and Rhysand would forget about the runt, spending his time on more important matters. Sicing Cassian onto Illyrian rebellions, wielding Azrial to send a message. Things that needed to be attended to.

Rhysand would be abruptly reminded of the brat when the princeling made himself the center Prythian’s attention. He caused quite the stir when he was caught in the arms of some faerie lover, exiled from Autumn, and chased down by the three that held him down.

That little fox had scurried off to Spring court, and two out of those three siblings were reduced to nothing but to bloody piles of gore.

The report from Azriel described it as if the two brothers were mauled and gnawed on by some sort of dangerous, wild fae. He suggested scouting out the Spring court to assure that there were no monsters from the Prison that escaped. Rhysand declined.

Rhysand knew better.

Soon, news would reach him that Tamlin made Lucien emissary.

Seemed that Spring’s high lord took a liking to the fox. A fondness. A favorite new pet, no doubt.

Tamlin had always liked to take in and care for wounded animals.

Shortly after the news reached Rhysand, Tamlin appeared at the next High Lord’s meeting with him in tow. Instead of taking his rightful and appropriate place sitting behind his Lord, standing politely and silently, the fox pulled up a chair next to him. Right at the table. Like him and the Lord were equals. Tamlin didn’t bat an eye.

Every meeting for the next couple centuries to come would start with that, but progressively became more agonizing as time went by.

A shared look here and there. A knowing smirk tossed to one another. A quick roll of the eyes when another High Lord spat out utter nonsense and gibberish. Quick glances that held deep meanings. Kicking each other under the table to keep one from talking and inciting a political incident.

Rhysand would glare and glare, but no looks from those viridescent eyes ever came his way.

That brat would take and take his Lord’s attention and hoard it like the greedy little fox he was.

Then came Hybern’s General.

Her.

Rhysand was there when Lucien would become the center of Prythian’s focus for a second time. He regarded as she carved his face, observed as she scooped out his eye with her long, sharp fingernails.

He didn’t need to fake a smile.

Only a few weeks would pass until every High Lord received an invitation. A ball. The Spring Court was encouraged to wear masks in solidarity with its disfigured emissary.

Rhysand should have seen what was coming. He knew that she wanted Tamlin, he knew there was something wrong with the drinks, but it was too late to do anything about it.

A blight soon manifested herself across the land Prythian. A curse inflicted. Deals struck.

For Tamlin, fifty years to bed a mortal woman and make her fall for him. For Rhysand, fifty years spent leashed to her, to be hers until her chosen obsession ultimately failed and took his mantle as her trophy.

Rhysand agreed to his deal voluntarily. Tamlin finally looked him in the eye when he did so; piecing and damning. So much emotion.

…

Rhysand hated her.

He abhorred her when he awoke to her face first thing in the morning and despised her when she was the last thing he saw before sleep took him.

He hated sitting next to her while she was poised on her throne. He hated when she was on top of him. He hated when she was under him. He hated her marks that she carved into his back. Like lashings from a whip.

He hated her sharp fingernails.

He hated himself for wishing that the claws of someone else were the one leaving the scars in the heat of passion.

He hated that the only way he could get through the night as the years dragged on was to imagine that it was someone else when she defiled. Someone he loathed.

Loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and loathed and love–

Forty-nine passed before something changed. A mortal woman. Rhysand saw her at Calanmai. He had been permitted to go under the guise of surveillance. He told himself that same reason every year that he found himself lining up next to the cave for the sacred rite. He was never chosen.

He scared off the mortal’s tormentors, and offered his hand. He saw her fear. Her thoughts raced almost as fast as her loud heartbeat. It felt good.

He left her that night.

He’d leave a few gifts here and there as the deadline drew near. A head. A faerie wingless. Something that would make Tamlin think about him.

He paid a visit. Her mind was like wet sand in his hands for him to play with, so brittle and fragile. He made Tamlin kneel for him. He made Lucien watch. It was supposed to feel good.

Tamlin brought himself to his knees for a mortal woman. To save his court. To save his Lucien. It wasn’t for Rhysand.

He didn’t tell Her the mortal woman’s true name. They took another and tortured her to death. Rhysand replaced her in his mind with a fox.

The deadline came and passed. Tamlin joined him under the mountain. He didn’t look at Rhysand. It was just as infuriating as those meetings from the past.

Then the mortal came.

She declared her love to Tamlin and She indulged the woman with three trials and a poem to answer. She was not creative, she probably gave her the poem to infuriate her obsession. He loved intricate poems and wordplay, always did, and that poem was mind-numbingly simple and easy.

The mortal couldn’t figure it out for three months, but Rhysand figured it out the moment those words finished leaving Her mouth. He knew and understood its meaning with crystal clarity. He wanted to laugh, cry, and rage at that.

Lucien was lashed and mutilated for helping the mortal.

Lucien was endangered during one of the trials.

Rhysand didn’t need to fake a smile.

Tamlin wouldn’t respond to him. No reaction. Nothing. Just a face of stone with a far away look in his eyes. The green muted and dulled. It was enraging.

Rhysand wanted something. Rage, sadness, repulsion, disgust. Anything.

So he latched onto that mortal. Dolled her up in paint and glorified ribbons, and paraded her around like a new toy. The faerie wine he forced her to consume took away any memory of it from her, but Rhysand never drank enough to forget. He didn’t want to forget how the rage burned in Tamlin’s eyes.

The dangerous, wild beast who mauled and maimed chained down with a heart of stone.

Rhysand caught him and the mortal together. He kissed her reverently. She reached his pants. He felt one of his teeth crack under the grit of his jaw.

He interrupted. Replaced Tamlin's spot.

Her lips tasted like his.

The final trial came and passed. Tamlin was stabbed in the heart by an act of love. An act of freeing him. Poetic.

They were all free. The mortal was dead.

Rhysand didn’t want to keep looking at Tamlin’s face. The agony was so potent that it seeped into all of the cracks in his walls.

He made them all bring her back. For him.

He saw her the following day.

Mate.

The following few years were crowded, but Rhysand didn’t commit them to memory. Everything turned out in his favor. The 'Band of Exiles' made Rhysand snort just like he did long ago, not bothering to cover it up. Little fox scurried off again somewhere else. Rhysand had gotten his mate. He had gotten his power. His dominance stayed intact. He had it all.

Everything.

Except he was haunted.

Green eyes. Everywhere. Out the corner of his eye. Rhysand could read minds but nothing compared to how they read his soul; Condemning and all-knowing. They controlled him.

The Solstice was a breaking point. He had to get rid of them, those eyes. He had to tear out the problem by the roots. Be rid of the beast that held that much power over him. That monster.

He couldn’t do it himself. He told Tamlin to rid the world of his existence. To Die. It was the only way to be free. It had to. Please.

I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you

I have to kill you. It’s the only way to get you out of my mind and heart.

I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you

Please just die already let me be free

I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you I loathe you

Please.

I love you.

#tamsand #maybe tamcien? who knows?#sorry this aint feyre friendly so just a heads up #simplified summary: Rhysand said “if i can't have you nobody can” unironically #canon utm events just so you know #Tamlin #rhysand

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ae-neon · 1 year

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Okay I'm rereading some beginning chapters of acotar and Feyre says Alis and the two other servants look human/high fae. Like humans with pointed ears. Specifically described Alis as a brown haired woman.

It's probably the glamour, but a very interesting take on it.

Also Tamlin "plops" down into his chair as a horse sized beast AND THEN shifts back to high fae form??? 😭 Sarah what are you talking about?

Credit tho, this is probably the best Feyre is written. Smart, observant, thinking - still panicked but not making stupid mistakes. And kinda funny, she thinks Tamlin is wearing the mask in solidarity with Lucien since Lucien probably wants to hide his scar.

Lucien is a bit weird? In retrospect, he knows about the curse, about the sentries going despite Tamlin's reluctance but he's acting like Tamlin traded Andras's life for Feyre's?

Also sjm's manipulative writing. At no point has Tamlin done anything to save Feyre or earn her trust but she mentally starts switching from captor to saviour out of nowhere. It's only chapter 5 or 6. Be serious. She hasn't even been there a day and she's saying the humans were wrong about Prythian.

Alis and the other two servants cut Feyre's hair, why? Also Alis telling Feyre to take Lucien down a peg lol.

Alis says Feyre will be safe at the mercy of their master and just before she left the dining room Feyre saw Lucien bow to Tamlin as well as be talked down from throwing Feyre out. How does she not know he's the High Lord?

Lucien to Tamlin: you have zero rizz, my boy

Also Lucien: "we're not going to bite." Teeth gleaming in a way that suggested otherwise. Cassian stole this man's whole flow 🙄

Not Tamlin saying it's an honour for a human to be served by a High Fae, stfu.

“You look … better than before.”

Was that a compliment? I could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod.

“And your hair is … clean.”

HAHAHAHA

(Lucien muttered, “So typically human.”) racism.

Lucien was seriously upset about Andras. That hurts.

Tamlin immediately assures Feyre that he's helped her family with income. It's chapter 7. The tension is sucked out of the situation and Feyre's motivation to leave is nullified by the author. That's kinda bad writing. Narratively it makes sense for Tamlin to use this against her trying to escape tho.

Tamlin has magic ropes? Hands? That can just hold Feyre in place?

Feyre: he's lying. Also Feyre: faeries can't lie.

“Why be so generous?” Lucien gave me a look that suggested he had no idea

They literally just finished making sure she wasn't in love with anyone back home so she could fall for Tamlin easier. So Lucien knows exactly why???

Feyre misses sleeping next to her sisters 🥺

Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie—probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers.

She legitimately doesn't know anything about Nesta.

...maybe the villagers would turn on my family, not wanting to be associated with people tied with Prythian, and run them out of town.

acotar Feyre would punch acomaf Feyre in the mouth

"Your hair is … clean. A pathetic compliment." 😭😭😭

(“What in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron is—”) so you're telling me sjm actually used to use real lore and incorporate it into worldbuilding. Wow. Like this is such a good line and flows so naturally from an upset Alis because of course that is how fae see the world.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at my slightly uptilted eyes. I knew I’d see Nesta or my mother looking back at me.

I’d sometimes wondered if that was why my sister had insulted me about my looks. I was a far cry from ugly, but…

I bore too much of the people we’d hated and loved for Nesta to stand it. For me to stand it, too.

The dynamic between Nesta, Feyre and the ghost of their mother could have been one of the realist, rawest elements of this series...

#acotar reread #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #tamlin #sjm critical #anti sjm #just in case

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tamlinsrose · 1 year

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Andras' death is literally the saddest in the whole acotar series. Because he was dear to both Tamlin and Lucien and died out of solidarity - if he wouldn't have been killed by a human girl, Lucien would've been the next to go. But he was their friend and he died a gruesome death and even if it was necessary to break the curse - it was cruel.

#andras #acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #i would kill for a book about the spring court

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tamlinsimp · 2 years

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you and all the other pro tamlin blogs have given me given me life. for the first time I’m actually inspired to reread acotar and refresh my memory. a bitch might just open up her own pro tamlin blog in solidarity

Hi Anon!! Thank you! Do it! I'll be honest with you, I tried rereading and posting here as I went, and I seriously have not progressed on MAF because I got so frustrated. LOL. It's unbearable to read Feyre's narrative & notice Rhysand's manipulation at every turn. It's gross.

#anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti feyre #tamlin #pro tamlin

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elevatorladylady · 8 months

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Critical Reread - ACOTAR Chapter 6

Join me on a reread of A Court of Thorns and Roses

Chapter 6

Feyre gets a bath.

“What wretched power did they possess to make their lands so different from ours, to control the seasons and weather as if they owned them?”

I'd be curious to get more of an exploration on this idea. Are the high lords bending the will of the land? Does the magic balance out with having all of the seasons represented? What would happen if a high lord just didn't want to use their power to create a perpetual season? It would be really interesting if the land itself chose the season, even though we know it's tied to the high lord.

“Only a fool would run with no food, no strength.”

This is what I tell myself every time I try to convince myself to exercise.

“If misfortune forced you to keep company with a faerie, you never drank their wine, never ate their food.”

It's like SJM wants us to know that she does know the lore, but is actively choosing to exclude most of it from the world building.

“This beast was not a man, not a lesser faerie. He was one of the High Fae, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful, lethal, and merciless.”

I still struggle to believe that she knows the difference between any fae races when 95% of info she has on faeries is inaccurate. And really, do humans consider every other kind of fae "lesser faeries" too?

“That promise to my mother, cold and vain as she was, was all I had.”

Again, you'd think the idea of her family dying of starvation would be enough without the asinine promise.

“The Treaty’s summons led me to the mortal. I gave her safe haven.”

Is the Treaty's summons a real thing? If it is, why wouldn't it work to magically protect humans as well? Cause they mention several instances of the fae crossing the wall to attack humans, but humans don't have any recourse for when that happens.

“Perhaps he wore it out of solidarity.”

I looove the idea of Tamlin wearing a mask in solidarity with Lucien. Tam definitely would if Lucien felt self conscious about his scars.

“Well,” the red-haired one seethed, “now we’re stuck with that, thanks to your useless mercy, and you’ve ruined—”

What does it ruin? Am I forgetting something? Isn't actually what they were hoping for by sending Andras out there? Maybe it's all for show?

“While these faeries also looked human, save for their ears, I’d never learned what the High Fae called their servants.”

How can she tell a High Fae from "lesser fae" if they both look human with pointy ears? Are the high fae just prettier? Also, it'd be pretty cool if they had actual names for the different races of fae instead of just calling them all lesser. Feyre still uses the term as high lady and damn does that seem racist as hell.

“A bit fancy, but I didn’t complain when I donned the white shirt, nor when I buttoned the dark blue tunic and ran my hands over the scratchy, golden thread embroidered on the lapels.”

I want some fan art of Feyre in this outfit.

“I was too young to remember much before my father’s downfall.”

Didn't we establish that she was 11 when they lost their wealth? The narrative treats this as though she was 5/6 when she lost their wealth, but there is a huge difference between the two ages.

#ell reads #sjm critical #ell reads acotar

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praetorqueenreyna · 1 year

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For the ask: fuck marry kill ACOTAR edition(yes there are correct answers)

Fuck: Tamlin. I'll appreciate your big titties king

Marry: Lucien. wlw/mlm solidarity baybee!!

kill: Cassian because I hate him. And maybe Rhysand will be so devestated he'll kill himself. Two for one special.

#asks #ask game #jasldkfjdf I AM NOTHING IF NOT PREDICTABLE

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a-court-of-messy-break-ups · 3 years

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The afterglow trend on tiktok is giving me Tamlin vibes and I don't know how to feel about it

#the second the live actions drops im making an edit of hin with this sing #please you can not tell me this so is him #that and the whole sour album but i digress #tamlin #acotar #acotar headcanons #tamlin acotar #tamlin solidarity #tamlin redemption

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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81 & 46 for Elucien 🙃

81- the missus and the ex & 46- blind date

Lucien couldn't decide if agreeing to a blind date was adventurous or desperate. Feyre Archeron had assured him she had the perfect person that ticked all his boxes and Lucien figured he had nothing to lose. Nothing could be worse than Stella, an influencer who spent the entire evening live streaming her date with a Vanserra to thousands of people.

"Lucien?" a soft voice interrupted his humiliating replay. He stood so quickly his chair fell backwards and Lucien spent a stumbling second righting his chair and then himself.

Ah, shit, he thought when he looked at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. He thanked God for the warm summer air that forced her into a strappy lilac dress, revealing swaths of tanned skin. She was stunning, the kind of beauty that seemed to belong in Renaissance paintings and not the rooftop patio he was currently standing in.

Palms sweating, Lucien offered her a one armed hug. "Elain, right?"

She nodded, smiling sweetly. She sat beside him instead of across from him, liquid brown eyes focused wholly on him.

"How do you know Feyre?" she asked, ignoring the menu he was using to hide how nervous he was.

"We ah...we went to college together. She dated one of my friends."

Elain's eyes narrowed. "Which one."

Stupid, he thought miserably. "Tamlin."

"Are you two still friends?"

"Fuck no," Lucien said hastily, pleased to see her smile return. "How do you know Feyre?"

"She's my sister," Elain responded promptly. Ah. That made sense. Feyre only had four friends to start with and Lucien had met them all.

"Do you-"

"Oh. My. God. Look who is out with another woman," an all too familiar voice interrupted Lucien's next question. Panicked and filled with dread, he turned to see the overly contoured face of Stella staring into her phone as she clacked towards them. Shit.

Elain turned too, curious at the commotion Ianthe was about to rain down on them.

"I knew you were a player but this is low, even for you," Stella spat. Elain looked back to him, eye brows raised though her expression was mild.

"P-player?" he spluttered. It would have been funny if he hadn't liked Elain. Now it was upsetting. He didn't need Elain thinking he had some kind of reputation with women when he certainly didn't.

"Did he tell you he took me out recently?" Stella demanded, pointing her phone towards them, effectively putting them on blast. Elain seemed taken aback.

"How is a month recent?" he demanded, finding his voice. Fuck her and fuck her manufactured drama for likes and follows.

"He didn't call me back, either," Stella continued, clearly hoping for some female solidarity. "Just absolutely ghosted me."

"You live streamed our entire date. Surely you could look back and find my obvious disinterest," Lucien shot back.

"What's wrong with your shoes?" Elain asked instead, taking Lucien by surprise. Ianthe, too, glanced down at her feet.

"What do you mean-"

"Knock off," Elain finished, looking back up at Stella, daring the influencer to call her a liar. "That's embarrassing."

"You're a bitch," Stella declared. Elain merely shrugged.

"A bitch in good shoes."

Stella opened her mouth, perhaps to respond with something vulgar. Lucien stood, ready to demand she leave but two waiters who had clearly been watching the entire exchange seemed to sense danger. Making a beeline for Lucien's table, Ianthe shot Elain one last filthy look before slinking off, lest she be caught on camera thrown out of one of the city's better bars.

As she left, Lucien could hear her outraged squawking. "I am so sorry," he said before Elain could say another word. She only shrugged.

"My ex was a gym-fluencer. I get it. They do everything for likes...it's exhausting. I won't hold it against you if you buy me desert."

"Anything you like."

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien prompt #i cant make jesminda the bad guy #so enjoy this made up person #based on a person i know in real life #who did this #and it was peak cringe if youre wondering #graysen the gym-fluencer made me laugh though

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adelindschade · 2 years

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Give me 1950s destitute housewife Nesta, putting on a face as she braved surviving on her own after her husband ran off. Oh, Tomas, that philandering fool has run off to who knows where, and leaving his wife to fend for herself.

Give me 1950s Emerie, hired help turned friend long before Tomas ‘took off’, and closest confident, as they endeavor on this unprecedented friendship between a middle class white woman and colored woman who refuses to abide by segregation and old norms.

Give me 1950s Gwyn, a runaway after she was kicked out of the orphanage for “misconduct” (since it’s always the girl’s fault for not doing enough to not be assaulted) and taken in by Nesta who understand her completely, and Emerie who’s friendship is very much welcomed, and not at all rejected on the basis of skin.

All three of them under the same roof, accompanied by Catrin who soon followed her sister in solidarity. It’s very strange household but they look so happy together.

“What makes your roses grow?”

“Natural fertilizer,” Nesta would joke.

There’d be a knock on the door and there’s Feyre in a fret, asking for refuge, saying she’s escaping her overbearing husband. Emerie and Nesta would share a look - been there, done that - and lend her a bed. If Tamlin ever came by to fetch his evasive wife, he disappeared shortly hereafter and no sign of him since.

“Those roses are looking wonderful this season,” Catrin commented.

“I’m telling you - natural fertilizer is the best way to go,” Nesta would wink.

#shit posting #what if au

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starkovsnesta · 3 years

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I still have two chapters to read but Mor saying that Nesta, a traumatized woman, should go live to a place that abuses women and that is the fucking cause of Mor's own trauma (and Cassian actually agreeing internally) is so so so so disgusting. This is the same one who condemned Tamlin's action towards Feyre because "no other woman should have been trapped or abused" or whatever, and then she says this??? Does solidarity towards women only apply to your female friends? Cause feminism doesn't work like that, honey.

#acosf spoilers

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adhdo5 · 3 years

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Would they eat the pizzadillas? - O5ver edition

Founder - not enthusiastically but if you convinced him to do so as his Duty To The Foundation/Council then yes, unflinchingly Nazarene - yes out of sheer respect of this absolute blasphemy in the face of god Philosopher - he would do it out of solidarity with his friends but he wouldn't by himself. He doesn't like BBQ sauce :< Ambassador - yes, for the likes Forward - no, and he would bayonet you for asking Cowboy - not of his own volition but he would succumb to peer pressure Teeth - yes :( Lesser - no, he's vegan Outsider - yes, but only for science Archivist - yes, because she is resigned to her fate Bureaucrat - yes, but only because he doesn't want to make you feel bad by saying no Physician - no, he's normal Tamlin - yes :(

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celinamarniss · 4 years

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Because I can’t be stopped, I ended up choosing dæmons for the characters of the Campaign podcast:

Tyst’s dæmon is a fennec fox—although he claims that as a Ringist, he believes that dæmons don’t actually exist and are only a mass hallucination. No one’s every entirely sure if he actually believes this, and whenever anyone tries to call him on it, he just doubles down.

Leenik has a very poisonous, brightly colored lizard dæmon. She lost one of her eyes in an incident that Leenik refuses to talk about, and he wears an eyepatch in solidarity. He frequently wears wigs that match her colors.

Lyn, like all Twi’leks, has a desert snake dæmon. He's a glossy snake (Arizona elegans)

When Tamlin’s dæmon settles, she takes the form of a firefly, a Zabrak trait.

Sian Jeisel’s dæmon was a Kestrel. As a clone, Bacta’s dæmon never settles, but she often takes the form of a kestrel in memory of Sian.

Evil Campaign!

Ava's dæmon is a little bat with bioluminescent fur.

Blue’s dæmon is a yellow cat that he dyes white for the drama and in flagrant violation of the laws against dying dæmon fur.

Although clone dæmons weren’t meant to settle, the majority of clone dæmons instantaneously settled into the exact same dog form the moment they enacted Order 66. Synox’s dæmon is a dog.

Zero, being a Gank, doesn’t have a dæmon.

#campaign podcast #daemon au #my headcanons

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girldraki · 4 years

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I also have anxiety. solidarity. [attempt at a comforting statement] -tamlin

yes....

#ask #tamlin #thank you i am unironically very comforted

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adriata-archive · 6 years

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Breakaway (ACOTAR College AU)

Special thank you to @helloetherealsunshine, @swishandflickwit, and @acourtoftruelove for encouraging me and screaming along with me while I got this fic off the ground.

Also available on AO3

Chapter One

Feyre loved flying.

Not in planes - never in planes. The idea of being trapped in an airplane for hours at a time, completely at the mercy of the pilot, terrified her. Putting her life in the hands of people she didn’t know, people she didn’t trust, wasn’t in her nature.

But stunting with her team? That was a whole different story.

Feyre loved the rush of adrenaline, seeing the faces of everyone in the crowd and feeling the steady support of her teammates around her, the rush of wind during the dismount before she was being set back down on the ground. She had known after her first ever basket toss that cheerleading was the sport for her, and she thanked her lucky stars every day that Velaris University had thought she was good enough to offer her a full ride if she cheered for them. She was doing what she loved and getting an education for free because of it, and if that wasn’t enough, she was able to go to practice every day with her best friend so that they could cheer for her boyfriend together.

She was a lucky girl, and she tried to remind herself of that fact as she half-heartedly listened to her roommate explain that she was moving out of their dorm.

“Sorry, I know it sucks to get a new roommate towards the end of the quarter, but ever since my parents got divorced my mom needs help wrangling all of my younger siblings under control,” Clare said, her voice apologetic as she tossed clothes into a suitcase. They hadn’t been the best of friends, Feyre and Clare, but they had gotten along well, and they had a system that worked - not everyone could say the same of their roommates.

Feyre had been lucky with Clare, and that alone made her sad to see her go.

“I get it,” Feyre said, and she did, she really did. “Family comes first, always.”

“Maybe you won’t even get a new roommate,” Clare said hopefully. “You could end up having the dorm all to yourself.”

Feyre smiled. “Fingers crossed.”

-/-

“Did I tell you that Clare’s moving out?” Feyre asked, motioning for an increase in pressure until her forehead was pressed flat against her legs.

“Tam might have mentioned it,” Lucien said, removing his hands from Feyre’s back and sitting on the gym floor in front of her. “He told me you sounded stressed out about someone new moving in.”

Feyre raised her eyebrows and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Usually I think it’s cute when he worries about me, but that’s a bit of a stretch. I think he’s more concerned than I am at this point. If I get a nice roommate, cool, but if I don’t, it’s not like I spend much time in my dorm anyway. I spend most of my free time at your apartment.”

“You know how he is,” Lucien said, shrugging. “Besides, he has the big game in two weeks to worry about.”

“They’ll win.” There was a confidence in Feyre’s voice that she almost didn’t recognize when she talked about Tamlin and the rest of the football team; as one of the few sophomores on the cheer team, she often felt that she had to earn her place, and knew that she worked harder than half of her teammates to stay in shape and be what everyone expected a VU cheerleader to be.

It was exhausting, but it was worth it. Being able to go to school and cheer on her boyfriend made it worth it.

“He told me to ask if you’re coming over once Captain Bitch ends practice.”

“I believe that’s Junior Captain Bitch, actually,” Feyre corrected, not even bothering to mask the disdain she felt for Ianthe. If ever there was someone who should not have been allowed to be in a position of authority, it was Ianthe.

Personal biases aside, Feyre hated Ianthe purely because the latter insisted on sleeping her way through the males on the team. Feyre really could have cared less, if it had all been completely consensual. If asked, she had no doubt that all of the men Ianthe had slept with would say that they were willing participants, but she had a reliable source that had told her otherwise.

Feyre was all too aware of the dangers of antagonizing one of the junior captains of the team, but when she caught Ianthe attempting to send a seductive smile Lucien’s way, she openly glared. She might not have been able to spare any of Ianthe’s other victims, but she could protect her friend.

“Ignore her,” Lucien said, the words coming out rough instead of reassuring, as Feyre knew he’d intended. “She’s not worth our time.”

“How’d she even get to be junior captain, anyway?” Feyre asked. “She’s probably the worst flyer we have and her dancing is awful.”

Lucien grinned. “You mean you don’t think that watching her writhe around the gym floor is a fantastic way to spend your time?”

Feyre laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up.” She could feel Ianthe’s eyes burning a hole into the back of her head, but she wasn’t going to allow the other woman to dictate how she interacted with her friend. Ianthe could pout all she wanted; nobody else decided what Feyre could and could not do.

Lucien’s eyes, which had been laughing back at Feyre, suddenly focused on the entrance to the gym. “Tam’s here.”

“Tamlin’s here? Why?” Feyre couldn’t help her brows from furrowing as she looked over her shoulder to see her boyfriend casually leaning against the doorway. “I told him I’d call after practice, and he asked you to check if I was coming over.”

“Practice is running a little later than usual,” Lucien offered, waving a lazy hand in Tamlin’s direction.

“I guess,” Feyre said dubiously, following Lucien’s example and waving at her boyfriend before going back to stretching. “He’s going to be bored, though, if we don’t get out of here soon.”

“Maybe if she notices we have an audience, Her Ladyship will relieve us from our duties.”

Feyre snorted and leaned forward, her voice dropping into conspiratorial whisper. “If you ask me, it’s high time for an impeachment.”

“Whatever you say, poly sci major,” Lucien said, smirking as he avoided Feyre’s half-hearted swing at him.

Neither of them noticed the way Tamlin’s carefully neutral expression slipped into a frown as Ianthe told them they’d be running through partner stunts, or the way he stiffened as Lucien placed his hands on Feyre’s waist.

-/-

“Hey, babe,” Feyre said cheerfully. Tamlin slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, despite the fact that she was covered in sweat and had never been a fan of public displays of affection. It made her acutely uncomfortable, but Tamlin was almost her polar opposite in that regard, so she compromised when she could.

“Yeah, hey, babe,” Lucien repeated with the same level of enthusiasm, snickering when both Feyre and Tamlin shot him withering glares. He dismissed Feyre’s without a second thought, but something in Tamlin’s eyes prompted him to stall so that he was walking on his roommate’s other side rather than next to Feyre.

Feyre had to try hard to pretend not to notice.

“How was practice?” Tamlin asked, pointedly not looking in Lucien’s direction.

“As good as practice led by a would-be dictator can be,” Feyre quipped.

“Ianthe’s not that bad,” Tamlin protested, opening the passenger side door of his car for Feyre. “If you guys hung out with her outside of practice you’d know that.”

Feyre arched an eyebrow. “You have to say that. You’re in the same major. Solidarity and all that. And haven’t you known her since high school?”

“Middle school, actually,” Tamlin said stiffly. The apartment he shared with Lucien was only a few blocks from the university gym, but their practice had gotten out later than usual, and he didn’t want Feyre to be walking around in the dark, even if he and Lucien were with her. “She’s one of my oldest friends. You could at least try to like her.”

“I could,” Feyre agreed. “But I probably won’t. You have the whole childhood nostalgia thing working for you when you talk to her - we don’t.”

Tamlin sighed, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he pulled into a parking space. “Can you try? For me?”

Feyre frowned, but she didn’t say anything about the way her boyfriend shifted into park with more force than was necessary. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Tamlin said, his smile little more than a thin line as he motioned for Feyre to stay seated while he got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her. She was more than capable of opening her own damn door, but the protest died on her lips when she saw how tense her boyfriend was.

She didn’t say anything when Tamlin interlaced their fingers and squeezed, even when it started to hurt.

-/-

“Clueless,” Feyre said, shifting from her spot on the couch to rest her head on Tamlin’s shoulder.

“We watched Clueless last week,” Tamlin reminded her, idly running his fingers through her hair. “Maybe we could move out of the nineties tonight?”

“Fine,” Feyre said, grinning up at him. “How about Dirty Dancing?”

Tamlin chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You hate Dirty Dancing. You think it’s cheesy.”

“Yes, but it’s one of your favorite movies, so we should at least consider having to endure Patrick Swayze teaching someone named Baby how to dance.”

Lucien groaned from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of the TV as he sorted through their DVD collection. Feyre had tried (and failed) to convince one of them to get a Netflix account since she’d first started hanging out at their apartment, but both Tamlin and Lucien were surprisingly old school, and she’d had to learn to make her peace with it.

“Will you two just pick a movie already?”

Tamlin laughed again, his arm loose around Feyre’s shoulders as she tucked herself further into him. She liked him like this; relaxed and easy-going, free to be affectionate in the comfort of his own living room. He’d been tense lately, the pressure from the football team growing to be a little too much this far into the season, and she wasn’t sure what she could do to help him carry what seemed like the weight of the world.

“Let’s watch Clueless,” Tamlin said, his smile soft as Feyre clapped her hands.

“Excellent choice.”

-/-

It was late when Feyre got back to her dorm, but she figured that since Clare had moved out and her new roommate wouldn’t be moving in for a couple of days, no one could complain. Tamlin drove her back and insisted on walking her to her door, lingering a little longer than was necessary. She was fairly certain that he was waiting for her to invite him inside, but she had class the next day, and so did he - a fact which she firmly reminded him of before kissing him goodnight and sending him on his way.

Something eased in her chest as Feyre watched Tamlin disappear around the corner of her hall, something that she didn’t care to dwell on.

She let herself into her room, leaning against the door after it shut behind her, and contemplated whether it was worth taking a shower this late. When she opened her eyes, though, she found herself wondering if she’d left the light on the entire time she’d been at practice and then at Tamlin’s, and finally saw the boxes on Clare’s old side of the room.

“Hey,” Feyre said slowly, focusing on the girl methodically unpacking boxes and stowing clothes away in the other closet. “I’m Feyre.”

Her new roommate turned around, and Feyre blinked despite herself. The other girl was absolutely stunning in every way, but what caught Feyre’s attention was the large bruise covering half of her face.

“I’m Morrigan, but you can call me Mor.”

Tagging: @darlingfireheart, @goldbooksblack, @who-tf-was-i-before-fandoms

#bravebuttercups breakaway #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #college au #my writing #acotar #cheerleading au #*writing

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