#tamlin would be brooding

[readychilledwine]

Mister Grumpy Pantseses

Summary - All you wanted was a day in the vegetable garden with your husbands. Your husbands just wanted to spend the day at each other's throats.

Warnings - a bit of a communication issue trope, grumpy sunshine, reader is Tamlin's sister and uses one of his tactics, jealousy, name calling, Fluff, reader is a literal ray of joy

Prompt - Day 5 - Favorite Tropes

A/N - Happy @polyacotarweek day 5! I am running a little behind, so my other fave trope will be up later, but enjoy a little grumpy azris with their sunshine reader with a bit of miscommunication

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

 “Fucking asshole.”

“Azriel!”

“Bastard.”

“Eris!” You pouted at your mates, sighing as they glared at each other. "Can we please have a nice breakfast? We have so much work to do in the garden if we want the vegetables ready in time to take to the hungry. We need to have energy."

Azriel grumbled an agreement while Eris rolled his eyes. “I am more than happy to spend time with you, foxling. It is that one I can't stand the sight of right now.”

"Eris!"

“Eris, our mate is asking you to stop being an entitled, self righteous, snake for one day. Surely you can handle that.”

“Azriel!”

“You're the one who set me off this morning, Azriel. Must you always run around brooding?” You felt yourself slowly sinking into your chair. The males you love most were both tired, so very tired. They were stressed from their duties and all you wanted was to love and help them.

They had not spent time with just each other in a few weeks. Eris had been too heavily scented on their last night together. It had been Azriel's way of telling you hello, but it lingered, dancing into the air during breakfast at the Forest House the next day. You had glamored it well enough from everyone but his mother. She seemed to see through you and Eris. Almost like she knew you two were hiding something or someone. Eris had caved, telling her everything about Azriel. Her advice had been simple, protect him. 

And Eris had taken that as, “Avoid him.” 

You looked between your two glaring mates, heartbroken at how their sadness was turning to grumpiness. “I'm going to go to the garden. Maybe you two should talk.” You left before one of them could respond then smiled, warding them in the cabin. If they wouldn't talk willingly, you'd force them to!

Azriel glared at Eris, and the heir returned it fully. “Our mate, our beautiful, selfless, and kind mate is outside by herself. Working in that damned garden. Because you want to be a grumpy asshole.”

Eris looked shocked, eyes wide as his jaw dropped. “I haven't done anything! I tried to greet you last night, and you ignored me in favor of y/n. Then this morning you wouldnt even kiss me good morning!”

“Can you blame me? She at least answers when I write.” Azriel watched the hit land, watched as Eris seemed to deflate. 

“I missed you. Regardless of how you feel, I missed you.” Eris stood to go out the door and jumped back as he was shocked. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

Azriel felt his face fall as well, walking to the after he did and jumping back as he was shocked as well. “Took that straight out of her brother's book, didn't she?” 

Eris couldn't help but laugh. “She doesn't even know he did that. I keep her here and away from him and Rhysand lately. It would break her heart all over again."

Azriel then began to laugh too, “She hates when we are mean to each other.”

“Because the world should be sunshine and rainbows.”

“And we are grumpy.” 

The ward seemed to lessen as the two males laughed before moving to the large sliding door that overlooked your garden. You were laughing, the rays of light seeming to want to follow and dance with you. You were such a breath of air. Untouched by the cruelty of the world and sheltered. It had turned you into the happiest female the two of them had ever met. The glass was always half full in your mind if you didn't decide that it was already running over and just a teeny tiny cup. 

Being paired with them, two grumpy and brooding males, seemed unfair to you most days. You were always laughing, always making jokes, and for 300 years, Eris had protected you from it being any other way. When he had taken you to a diplomatic meeting pre-Amarantha though, that had all changed. 

The bond snapping between you and Azriel had been difficult, life changing, and rewarding. He pursued you, regardless of your known status as Eris's wife and mate, and his pursuit paid off. It had kept you safe from Amarantha, and once they all had been freed, the bond between him and Eris snapped. 

That had been a different journey. The two of them were constantly butting heads, constantly arguing, constantly making you cry. It all ended though when Eris had been brave enough to bluntly address the situation. He had pulled Azriel to him, crashing his lips down on his, and the rest became history. Where everyone else saw a fight during the High Lord's meeting, you saw foreplay. 

Azriel sighed, watching you, and then turned back to Eris. “Why did you avoid me? I worried I had hurt you.” 

“You scented me too heavily. She could hardly hide it.”

Azriel nodded, a scarred hand then taking the other male's calloused one. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. She focused on hiding it from him.”

“I am sorry.”

Eris whispered the words back before leaning his head on Azriel's shoulder. “She's so beautiful and happy.”

“You are also beautiful,” Azriel looked him over. “Though, you are as she says, a grumpy pants.”

Eris huffed. “Odd. She says the same of you.” The ward seemed to drop fully. Allowing Azriel to reach his hands out to door and slide it open. “Brat.” He muttered.

“You'll take care of that later.”

“And you will help?”

You smiled as your mates walked out before jumping with glee. “Eris! There's a bunny!”

“Yeah? I'm sure we have many bunnies, my love.”

You glared at him before turning to Azriel. “Azriel!” You paused dramatically. “There's a bunny!”

The shadowsinger looked to the heir, a small smirk on his face as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Show me, starlight.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

Ps- I had to fix the tags! I apologize!

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #azris x reader #azris x you #azris x y/n #poly!acotar x reader #poly+acotarweek 2024 #poly+acotarweek d5 #poly+acotarweek 2024 d5

[azsazz]

Anywhere

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Ooooo I’d literally love it so much if you’d write for Tamlin again😩 I feel like I’ve been seeing so much hate for him recently and I really just need more people doing my sweet misunderstood boy some justice :((( honestly anything that just has him being sweet and soft… hurt comfort is always a solid winner.

Warnings: Angst, foreplay.

Word Count: 1,712

Notes: Of course this would turn into something steamy, that's just who I am.

_________________________________________

“Tam?” you call softly, pushing the cracked door to his office open further. The room is dark, moonlight shining through the large windows. You spot him right away, and the warmth of the bond in your chest would tell you that he’s here even if you weren’t able to make out his form, slumped in his chair, elbows resting on knees and head in his hands.

He doesn’t answer but doesn’t turn you away either. Stepping into the room, you make your way towards him. His home is silent, almost eerie with lack of Tamlin practicing his fiddle, without the chatter of the chefs, courtiers, and handmaidens. It’s late, and they’ve all vacated the property. It’s only you and him now, and Tamlin hadn’t sought you out once the sun dipped behind the grassy knolls of the Spring Court.

Your footsteps patter softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the manor besides your shallow breathing. Your heart kick starts along with your nerves, worry wracking your mind as you move closer and he doesn’t answer or shift. You can see the way his broad back heaves.

Timidly, you reach out your hand, brushing some of his long, blond hair from where it’s falling around his downturned head. Again, Tamlin doesn’t move as you tuck it gently behind his pointed ear.

“Tamlin?” you ask, running your hand down the back of his head. He’s starting to worry you, all silent and brooding like this. Lowering yourself beside him to your knees, you crane your neck to see his face, solemn with worry, usually bright green eyes dark. “Tam, are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

Your mate doesn’t respond for a long while, and you don’t ask again. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His fingers are cold, but his cheek is warm when he presses it against his skin, needing to be touched by you.

You stroke your thumb along his smooth skin, and his sigh startles the quiet of the midnight painted room. The moon paints his rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, his skin glowing with it, and for a male born for spring, he surely looks ethereal basked in the night.

His green eyes are piercing as he finally looks up at you, drinking you in. The soft look of concern on your face, knitting your brows together. That look in your eyes, the one that tells him that you will do anything for him, even if it means doing something you may regret. The downturn of your mouth, he can see your teeth nibbling at the inside of your mouth with worry, can feel that niggling down the bond too.

You remind him so much of her sometimes. When you’re reading up in the library in your favorite chair in your favorite spot in the manor, pushed right in front of the windows so you can look out into the garden and at the fountain while you lose yourself in your book. In fleeting moments when he’s playing his instrument and you wander your way into the ballroom, lured by the fantastical sounds drifting throughout the house. The way you fist your skirts and let the music consume you, twirling about the room with your head thrown back, laughing, until eventually you force him from his chair and plant his hands on your hips, the both of you dancing to the music of your bond, the push and pull of loving emotions shared between you.

Or when you strip your pastel dresses away and beckon him into the moonlight pond with your bare body. The silver water slipping against your skin like beads of the Mother’s tears. Only your envious beauty could make her cry. The way he can’t resist himself, eager to have his hands on you.

“I don’t deserve you.” 

His admission is a whisper that, if you were outside, would be whisked away on the breath of the wind. But you’re not, and Tamlin damns the silence, for being so weak, so fucking comfortable in your presence that his mouth has unleashed this secret without his permission. 

Your heart falters, and he feels it, splintering in his own chest. The burn reverberates in his bones, branding his soul with the flash of sadness you release down the bond before pulling those weaving vines taught so no more of your emotion can slip through the tight knit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you hate how your voice shakes. Your hand slackens against Tamlin’s cheek and he tightens his grip on the hand he’s holding as if he’s afraid you may pull away from him.

You’d never pull away from your mate. Instead, you move closer, parting his knees and sliding between them, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes of his. They remind you so much of the plains that make up his court, the grasses taller than your knees, ones you had to wade through to pull him out of his self-loathing rut after Spring had fallen to shambles, making him see the sun shining again.

Tamlin drops your hand in favor of cradling your face in both of his hands. They’re shaking, as is his voice when he speaks answers. “You’re too good for me, petal, too good for this court. You are so bright, so caring and loving and you deserve so much more than to be trapped here—” His voice breaks a little, and you understand exactly what’s happening. Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Spring. The final day of the High Lady of Night’s plan to ruin everything Tamlin has never wanted but was bestowed by his bloodline. “You can go anywhere, do anything, you’re destined for so much better, so much better than me…” 

Tears prick your eyes and you squeeze his wrists, hard. “Stop it right now, Tamlin. Don’t—don’t do this because you think it’s right. Don’t dismiss our love because of the past. You deserve to love and to be loved, to cherish and to live life freely and without dwelling on what happened because some illiterate little female got a taste of power. I will love you until every flower in this court shrivels and until the Mother returns us to the earth. You are mine and I am yours, forever. Is that not what we committed to by accepting this bond?”

“It is,” he hisses painfully, tugging you up. His movements are effortless, lifting you into his lap with an ease that makes your stomach twist. You’d clench your thighs together but Tamlin is spreading them on either side of his thighs so he can pull you as close to his body as he can. Now isn’t really the time to be acting like this, but your body reacts to the slightest thought of your wolfish mate, and with the way his large hands soothe up the sides of your thighs to settle on your waist, he can smell it on you too. “I love you so much that it makes me question everything. How can I head a court when all I want to do is steal you away into the night and force you somewhere no one can find us?” His teeth are sharp at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, making you shiver. 

Tamlin couldn’t have admitted something like this long ago, hadn’t wanted to. He thought he might love the human female the way she’d initially loved him, but it was nothing compared to the burning passion he feels for you. The raw and unyielding power that sears his body when you’re near. He would give up this court in an instant if it meant saving you, keeping you for himself. He needs you like his gardens need the rain, the sunlight, the air. All of the best moments in his life don’t even compare to any of those you’ve given him. You are it, from dusk until dawn, from flesh to ash.

“Do it,” you gasp, fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug on it, throwing your head back at his words, the sheer truth of them. You rock your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing up to meet your cunt. “Take me Tamlin, whisk me away or bend me over this desk and take me right here. It doesn’t matter where we go or who we’re with as long as we’re together.”

“Fuck, petal,” he growls against your skin. He’s leaving marks but you don’t care, neither of you will be leaving your bed for days, not while Tamlin allows himself this freedom. His subordinates will keep the court running, and they know better than to disturb their High Lord. “This is what I’m talking about. The way that you move, that you love…this can’t all be for me.”

“It is,” you whine as he roughly grabs a fistful of your ass. He lifts his lips, grinding into you as your fingers scrabble against the fabric covering his muscular chest. “Gods, Tam. Take me upstairs, please!”

“Thought you wanted me to take you right here,” his breath is hot against your lips. He bites at your lower lip, pulling on it and causing you to gasp. “What happened to that?”

“Anywhere,” you’re all but babbling now. Tamlin’s fingers slide between your thighs, brushing across your panty-covered cunt. “Anywhere, take me anywhere.” 

He pulls back and you want to whimper but the fire in his piercing eyes makes it catch in your throat. His lips are swollen, glistening from your kisses and his rough tongue on your skin. The way he’s staring up at you…it’s consuming. You slacked the tight reins on your barriers and are hit with his feelings full force. It almost feels like you’ve been struck, the way you rock back and Tamlin has to catch you, tuck you closer to his chest with those possessive hands you adore so much.

“Let me take you anywhere, then,” he whispers and you nod against his heated skin, forehead pressed to his. “Anywhere, Tamlin,” you agree, brushing your mouth sensually against his, pairing it with a swift roll of your hips that makes you both groan and his hands tighten on your skin. “I will love you everywhere.”

#tamlin x reader #tamlin #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses

[sapphicmsmarvel]

the beginning of your life with Azriel

Tw: bad mental health mentioned. Mentioned r*pe and murder of said r*pist 

buckle in friends, we got a long one ahead of us. (long for me to write okay)

tropes: friends to lovers, taking care of future S/O, fluff to angst then back to fluff

When Azriel had met you, he had no idea just how important you would become to him. 

You were Feyre’s beautiful friend from the mortal world, a friend that was taken with her sisters. A friend that fought against Hybern every step of the way. A friend that drew blood from the High Lord of the Spring because he hurt Feyre and you knew the truth. You had smacked the shit out of Tamlin. 

So when your High Lady and High Lord asked you to be the Night Court’s Justice, you readily agreed. 

It was…nice to get that anger out on people that had harmed your loved ones. 

So you began training, you originally were training with just Cassian and Azriel, then when Nesta needed some outlet, you extended the offer to her. 

Well, it wasn’t really an offer. 

She was bitter towards you for it for the longest time. But she eventually, apologized to both you and Feyre for her bitter words, but you both obviously forgave her. 

You knew how bad shit had gotten when you were first turned. Bitter, angry, resentful. But instead you went to different coping mechanisms. You poured everything into helping others, to the point where you were neglecting yourself. Rhysand had pulled you out of it, but that’s a story for another day. 

(read about that here) 

Azriel saw the shift in you then, the day you killed your rapist and brought peace to the survivors. He watched as the pathetic man pleaded for forgiveness. 

Since then, as stated earlier, you began training so you’d be able to fight. When you became the night courts justice, you and him developed a partnership. You were work partners. You two only trusted each other completely unconditionally. It was a hard relationship to build. But after a year of countless missions where every single one was successful, it became pretty easy. 

Late nights eating in a dingy inn room. If you stayed in an inn room that had only one bed, he’d say he was going to take the floor but you eventually persuaded him to just climb into bed with you. 

You two never split up unless it was vital to the mission. You two trusted each other to do things on your own, but sometimes two was better than one. 

You learned the most intimate things about each other. How he doesn’t like when beds are too soft because it feels weird (from ya know sleeping on a dingy floor his whole youth). You can’t sleep unless you bathe every single day. You snore and talk in your sleep while he sleeps perfectly still like he’s laying in a casket. 

When you go on separate missions, he can’t sleep because he doesn’t know if you’re safe or not. You can’t sleep because you miss the brooding bat. 

You helped train the valkyries, hell, you were even taken to the blood rite. 

He had never been so nervous in his life during that time. You were his partner and he couldn’t be there to help you. Frankly, he’d call you his best friend. Rhysand and Cassian knew him extremely well, but you were something else to him entirely. 

The second he saw the four of you walk out, he was so relieved he nearly fell to the ground and thanked the mother. 

You guys had been close before the Rite, and now you were even closer. 

A lot of times, you tried to face your nightmares alone. However sometimes it was difficult so you’d walk to his room to sleep there. His body and shadows were so attuned to your movements that he never jumped when you crawled into the bed. He knew the second you opened the door that it was you. 

He can’t explain it, it was just a sixth sense. Like, you guys would be out and about and he would just know you were about to do some stupid shit with Cassian. 

He started realizing what he truly felt for you after the Blood Rite. How his heart felt lighter when you were in his sight. How he always chose to sit next to you, or be by you.

Cassian finally had enough, so did Feyre apparently because the both of them ambushed him one night, “so when are you finally asking Y/N out?” Cassian demanded.

Azriel looked like he got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “What?” 

“Feyre and I-”

“No, you dragged me here.” Feyre corrected her beloved brother in law. 

“Because you’re her best friend!” 

“Which means I shouldn’t be hearing this because I am legally obligated-”

“Legally?” Azriel questioned. “By Girl Law-“ She cut a look at Azriel who held his hands up in an “I surrender” position. She pointed at him. “This is shit I have to tell her if I hear it. So la la la la.” She plugged her ears and walked away.

Cassian shook his head at her retreating figure. “Crazy woman.” He looked back at his brother and smacked him on the chest. “You need to make a move!”

“What.” Az simply stated. 

“You. Need. To. Make. A. Move!” After each word, Cassian hit Azriel in the chest. 

Azriel swung at him to get him to stop. “Ack!” 

“She’s head over heels for you, idiot!” 

Azriel hesitated. “I don't think so.” 

“Dude, she literally smiles the biggest when she sees you come in the room. She always stays by your side, she constantly shares her food with you.” Cassian explained.

“She does that with everyone.”

“No! No she does not! I tried to take a roll from her yesterday and her fork almost impaled my hand.”

“Bread and butter is one of her favorite things. You’re an idiot for that.” Azriel deadpanned.

“See! Another thing, you two know each other as intimately as lovers.”

Eventually, he got Cassian to stop, but that night he just could not stop thinking about you. Your smile lights him up from the inside. Especially your genuine smile. The one where your gums are showing, your teeth, your nose scrunches and your eyes squint. 

He loves your laugh, it is the song his shadows dance to. You have variations that he memorizes as if they’re the chords to his favorite music. 

He groaned into his pillow, his shadows silently laughing at him as they saw their master lovelorn. 

Although, even they knew you had feelings for the shadow singer. Their master, while one of the deadliest in Prythian, was a moron. 

The feelings for each other didn’t get exposed until later. Much later. 

You two were on a deadly mission, one that even Rhys was worried to send you on. You had completed the task, but the cost? 

Your health. 

One of the arrows was poisoned. You couldn’t move a single muscle below your neck. You were tired. You just wanted a warm bath and snuggles with Azriel.

“Y/N, please stay awake.” Azriel clutched your cheeks. “The healer is on her way. She’s running to you, baby. Please stay awake.” 

You felt water drop onto your face, you looked up at the sky wondering when it had begun to rain. 

It hadn’t. Your friend, your partner, was crying. 

“I love the stars.” You whispered. “My favorite one is right in front of me.”

“Yeah? Which constellation is that?” His voice was gravelly. He sniffed.  He looked up then back at you, as if the idea of letting you out of his sight would seal your fate.

“You. You are my constellation. You are my galaxy.” You whispered. “If I'm going to die, I want you to know that.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“We don’t know that.” You said. “I wish I could move my hand, so I could touch you.” 

“I’m right here.” His hands were on your face. 

“No, I want to hold your hand.” You whimpered. 

He looked taken aback but abided by his dying love's wish. He held your hand tightly. 

“If I am your galaxy, you are my moon.” He put your foreheads together. All you could see was the hazel of his eyes. “You ground me. You keep me in rhythm. You are my constant companion. And I vow, you will survive this and we will be together, okay? You are my strength, my salvation and you will live.”

Your eyes slipped closed right as the healer reached you. 

——————-

When you awoke, you felt a presence next to you. You looked to the side through your groggy eyes and saw Azriel laying next to you. His hand was still intertwined with yours.  His shadows dancing around your bodies. They got visibly excited when you awoke. 

One shot towards your face as if to cradle it and your hand that wasn’t holding Azriels, shot up in reflex. It twirled around your fingertips. 

You could move again. 

Azriel’s eyes shot open, they were incredibly bloodshot. “Oh love.” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by all of Feyre’s abilities at once.” You groaned. “Throw Rhys in there too. And you and Cassian.” You sighed. “Frankly, it feels like everybody hit me with their full powers.”

“The Healer, Tatiana, said you’d feel that way.” He stroked your hand. “Completely normal for the dose of poison you received. She even threw in five bottles of the antidote and instructions for us to give to Madja, so our home healer has information.”

You sighed. “Anything for this pain?”

“No. Nothing will help. You just have to ride it out.” He looked depressed giving you that news.

But you couldn't hide how you felt. How much pain you were in. You were safe enough with Az to crumble your walls.

And that’s when your tears started. “It hurts so bad.” You whimpered. 

“I know.” He brushed them away. “Rhysand is sending a carriage to transport you back home. I was told not to risk winnowing or flying. It’ll be here tomorrow morning, I assumed that you’d want to go home as soon as possible.”

“What if I didn’t wake up now?”

“We still would’ve transported you. I want to keep you comfortable. Tatiana says there is little risk of your sutures opening from where you were shot. Plus, she says the effects of poison won’t flare up after 12 hours and we hit that about five hours ago. So you’re pretty much on track to recovery. We’re just taking a carriage to minimize the risk of you bleeding out or vomiting all over a city. Cause guess what? that’s a symptom too.”

“Fucking shit.” You said leaning against the pillow. “Where are we?”

“An Inn, Esther the inn owner found us in the woods and ran back to get a town healer. She won’t let me pay at all.” He seemed kind of pouty about that. “But I’m gonna try again tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair back. “Are you hungry?”

“Eh.” Was all you said, and then. “Bread and butter sounds nice right now.” 

He snorted and you cried indignantly. “Hey I am ill-“

“Oh relax. I’ve already prepared for this.” He squeezed your hand and got up. 

When he let go of your hand and you’d be damned if you showed how sad you were about that. 

You were pouting. 

He used a knife to slice open some rolls and put them by the lit fire. “I know you like warm bread and cold butter but you’ll have to settle for room temperature butter.” 

He brought you over a plate and glass of water. The bread was even spread with an unholy amount of butter. Just the way you like it. 

He got you set up against the headboard. You downed the glass of water and he quickly gave you a refill. After your belly was full and you felt a bit better, you looked over at him. 

“So you wanna talk about what I said when I was….” You trailed off. 

“Did you mean it?” He whispered. 

“Yes!” You whispered enthusiastically back. “Az, since the very first day I met you I have had a crush on you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes!” You cried, your head hitting the headboard. “Gods, Cassian and Feyre wouldn’t let me breathe about it. Same with Nesta.” 

“I didn’t know.” Azriel said. 

“I know.” You sighed. “I’m sorry if me saying that stuff on my deathbed pressured you into saying anything.” “It didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “I have been infatuated with you for far longer than I ever knew.” He clutched your hand again. “I found you beautiful as a mortal, endearing. But when you were turned, it amazed me that you somehow became ethereal. You were so angry that you smacked Tamlin with your nails. You made him bleed. When he snarled at you, I was ready to jump in. But Feyre beat me to it.” He smiled, a bit sadly. 

“When you went to the Rite, I knew you could do it. Yet, I felt fear that I haven’t felt in a long time. When I saw you, I almost lost it right then. Confessed everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don't think I can handle your rejection.” He whispered. 

“I will never reject you, Az.” You clutched your joined hands. “You are everything I've ever wanted. Ever needed. I would be honored if you’d accept me-“

“I already have.” He whispered looking at you. 

You put your hand against his cheek and pulled him to you. Your lips met and it was everything you’d ever wanted. All your fears and love were put into that kiss. 

You knew you both would be okay, as long as you had each other. 

And right as you thought that, the mating bond snapped. 

——————————

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 6

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: Took a wild leap with this one...

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): mentions of physical abuse, mentions of SA, major sexisim, SMUT, dirty talk, angst.

Word count: 3557

(all photos are from pinterest)

“And if they win? If my brother and Beron get their way?” I ask Rhysand who is clearly lost in thought, but it’s Mor who answers.  

“Then you would be forced to marry Eris. As fucked up and sexist as it is, they’re going to call into question who had claim of you first Eris or Rhys.” Mor answered clearly, hating the words  coming out of her own mouth. 

“Oh,” I murmured, it was all I could say, the thought that all of this could have been for nothing. Those days spent in a cell, weeks keeping Rhysand and I a secret it didn’t change the outcome of my life. 

“I won’t let it come to that,” Rhys said, walling over to me and pressing his forehead to mine. “I won’t let them take you from me.” 

“You’re right I’m sure we can figure this out,” I reply, not trusting my own words.  

“Let’s go shopping girl, it will give brooding old Rhys here time to think of a plan.” Mor said, trying to lighten the mood. “You can borrow something of mine while we shop.”

“Mor’s right we should get me some clothes,” I giggle looking down at the too big shirt of Rhysand’s that I was wearing. I press a chaste kiss to his lips trying to bring a smile to his face but it doesn’t work. I move towards Mor but I feel Rhy’s hand pull me back. 

“Not without one of these,” he says, pressing his lips to mine passionately. I nearly moan at the way he is always able to kiss me into submission. I swear I’d do anything he asked me if he just kissed me like this. 

“I love you,” I smile, pulling away from the kiss. 

“I love you too,” he smiles, running his thumb over my lips. “Take care of her Mor.” 

“Like she was my own mate,” Mor smiled before leading me to her bedroom.

“This wasn’t just a shopping trip you know?” Mor says, holding up her glass of wine to her lip. “I wanted to thank you.” 

She had insisted that we go out for a drink and for dinner before turning in for the night and given the long day we had I was more than willing to do just that. 

“Thank me for what? I hardly think I’ve done anything but cause problems for your cousin and your court,” I sigh popping another grape into my mouth. 

“Yet I’ve never seen him so happy,” she sent me a knowing smile. “I’ve known Rhys my whole life, never have I seen him so at peace, so willing to live. When his parents and his sister died he was given the title of High Lord, one he never felt like he was ready for. It made him unhappy, but all that has changed because of you.” 

“How did Rhys’ family die?” I ask sipping my own glass of wine. All of the color drained from Mor’s face.

“You don’t know?” she asks bewildered. 

“No he never told me,” I answered, afraid of whatever answer she might tell me. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she said, trying to resume sipping her wine. 

“Mor please, tell me.” I beg her. 

“Okay but don’t let Rhys kill me,” she starts. “200 years ago Rhys and your brother were friends, but your father figured out that Rhysand would be the most powerful High Lord and sought to bring him down a peg. So one night he and Tamlin as well as your brothers went to the Illyrian Camps and slaughtered his mother and sister in cold blood. When Rhysand’s father found out both went to the Spring Court only leaving you and Tamlin alive.” 

I could hardly believe what I was hearing Tamlin had always told me that the agents of the night court had killed our family for stealing their wings, that they were to be an enemy of our court. If I ever asked him to tell me more he would refuse. “But why would Rhys and his father leave us alive?” 

Mor let out another sigh, “Rhys was supposed to kill you. That night he stood over your bed with a dagger, the mating bond snapped into place. He told me that he fell to his knees before you. It was too late for him to rectify what he had done to your family, but when he found his father holding a dagger to Tamlin’s throat Rhys begged for him to live and he did. But Tamlin took Rhysand’s fathers own dagger and drove it through his heart anyways.” 

I nearly felt my knees give out, he had known for 200 years and said nothing. I couldn’t stop myself from reeling. My heart rate began to pick up and suddenly this dress was too tight, this room was too hot and the walls were closing in. 

“I need…I need some air,” I gasped. It was all I could say before taking off. 

I heard Mor calling for me inside the tavern but I couldn’t stop, not for anything. The chill of the night air did little to calm my heart rate down.  I wove through a sea of people, all of them balking at the unfamiliar face. I even heard murmurs of ‘that’s Tamlin’s sister’ and my gut churned. All that was going through my head was he knew, he knew, he knew. 

So I ran, and I ran, and I tried to outrun the feeling but it didn’t matter how far I went, I couldn’t escape the shocking truth I had just heard.

I found myself sitting by the edge of the river about a mile outside of town. Something about the sound of the water flowing by and the crickets chirping gave me time to think. It wasn’t agents of the night court that killed  my family, it was the High Lord, and Rhys. I supposed I should be mad, but given the events of the last few days, what Tamlin did to me, what he’s still trying to do? I’m almost glad Rhys nearly put an end to it all. But it doesn’t change one thing. He knew we were mates for almost 200 years and didn’t tell me. I had heard him calling down the bond for an hour now, but I shut him out. I needed time to process this. 

Behind me I heard the flap of massive wings and then a thud, I turned to find Azriel standing behind me. His face was kind. Not angry or upset like I thought it would be. He looked friendly. 

“It’s a bit cold out tonight, mind if I join you?” he asked, gesturing to the spot beside me. 

“I’m afraid I’m not the best company, but be my guest.” I reply, patting the spot next to me. His massive frame came to sit beside me and as the breeze floated in from my right he curled a wing around me shielding me from it.  

“So you found out how to shut Rhys out of the bond?” he smirked. 

“I guess so,” I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the river before me. 

“Nice,” he smiled like he was proud of me for doing so. 

“Is he mad?” I ask, cringing slightly. 

“No, but he is worried. The second Mor came back and told him what happened and he sent all of us out to find you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has the whole of Velaris doing search and rescue by now.” Azriel explained casually.  

“I’m sorry. I just needed time.” I said picking at the rocks on the ground. 

“Don’t be. It was a big blow,” he started. “Are you mad at Rhys?” 

“I know I should be, but I’m not. I just wish he had told me.” I sigh.

“You know I was there that night. I was at the townhouse when he returned from the spring court. He was a wreck, an honest to gods wreck. He was so stricken with grief over what he had done that he disappeared to the Illyrian mountains for a week.” he explained. 

“But why didn’t he tell me?” I plead.

“I don’t know. I think he wanted to, but the timing was never right. He spent nearly 200 years loving you from afar and then you finally felt the bond snap. I think he was so happy that he was scared he would lose you. That you would reject the bond.” he said. 

“I suppose I don’t know what I’d do in that situation either,” I sigh.

“One thing you can be sure of is that he does love you. I’ve never seen a person love another person more. Hell he’s trying to claw into my mind as we speak but I’m not letting him,” Azriel chuckles. 

“I suppose I should go back then,” I laugh beginning to stand up. 

“I’ll take you. Do you want me to winnow you there or do you want to go the fun way?” he says, cocking an eyebrow. 

“What’s the fun way?” I ask nervously, dusting the dirt off my dress. 

He snapped his wings out in answer. 

“Oh definitely the fun way,” I smile. “I’ve never flown before.”

“Rhys will be pissed that I’m taking your flying virginity but he’ll get over it eventually.” Azriel smiles before scooping me up. “You ready?” 

“Yes!” I squeal in anticipation and excitement. 

“Hold on tight princess,” Azriel laughs, launching off the ground into the sky. 

My stomach bottoms out and my grip on his neck tightens as the river below us gets smaller and smaller. All the air leaves my lungs as we continue to ascend and then we’re soaring through the sky.  

“Oh my gods this is amazing!” I shout with joy into the night and I feel Azriel’s chuckle reverberate through my body. 

“Do you trust me?”  he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I smile, still unable to  hide the joy I feel.  

“Let go of my neck, I'm going to let you free fall,” he instructs me. 

“But you’re going to catch me right?” I ask just to be sure. 

“You’re going to be my High Lady one day, I will always catch you,” he says nonchalantly.

“Okay let’s do it,” I say, removing my hands from his neck. 

“See you in a second!” he laughs before letting go. 

I feel myself falling through the sky and it’s the most freeing feeling ever. I can’t help but let an excited whoop out as the wind whips my hair about. I have never felt more powerful, more invincible than in this moment. Every worry about my brother, about Beron and the council are gone, for once my mind is clear. 

I see Azriel tucking his wings in above me diving down to meet me and in mere seconds I feel him scooping me up again. 

“That was so fun!” I shout. 

“Don’t ever tell Rhys we did that he will have my head,” Azriel laughed and I could see the townhouse below us. 

We land on the terrace and the sound of our laughter brings Rhys out to meet us. 

“Thank gods I was scared something had happened to you,” he said, rushing over to press a kiss to my forehead.  

“I’m fine you overbearing mother hen,”  I laugh putting my  hands on his forearms.  

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Azriel said backing away. 

“Wait!” I shout before running over to throw my arms around him giving the biggest hug I possibly could. For a second he doesn’t hug me back, in shock from my sudden action but then I feel two arms wrap around me. “Thank you for everything, for the talk, for the ride.  All of it.” 

“Of course y/n any time.” he smiled. I backed away and took Rhys’ hand as he began to lead me inside. 

“Oh and Azriel!” Rhys called making Azriel turn around. “I saw that,” he smirked and I know he meant the free fall. 

“Damn,” Azriel cursed before taking off into the night. 

Rhys turned to me, mood more somber now. “I think we need to talk,”  he said quietly, like the words would hurt him if he spoke them too loud.  

“I think we do too,” I replied. 

We walked upstairs to the bedroom, everything was just as we left it this morning. Bed unmade, sheets thrown everywhere. The only noticeable difference was my new trove of dresses hanging in Rhys’ closet. My heart warmed at the sight of it. Something so small yet so meaningful at the same time, so domestic. Something I had unknowingly wanted for a long time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask turning around to meet his violet eyes. 

“Please believe me when I say I wanted to tell you. I never planned on keeping you in the dark about it. That night I went to kill you I had such hatred in my heart, I had lost my mother and my sister and I wanted revenge. I was young and stupid and following my father blindly. But when I saw you  the bond clicked and I had never known such love. I remember it all. I fell to my knees before you and I realized what I had done. I had killed my mate's family. When I saw my father and Tamlin fighting I begged them to stop, begged my father to let him live. I couldn’t tell them why for fear that Tamlin would kill you just to hurt me. But eventually my father gave in, but Tamlin still stuck a dagger in his heart. When I got back to Velaris I had become High Lord and I couldn’t cope.” he explained, stepping closer to me to cup my cheek. “I have spent the last 200 years in agony knowing what I did to you.” 

He paused taking in my face like he might never see me again, like I might reject the mating bond, and his eyes started to glass over. 

“The day the bond snapped for  you was one of the happiest days of my life. But you were already so hesitant to let me in, you wouldn’t even let my name pass your lips. I knew I couldn’t tell you then for fear of losing you forever. I had to make you see that I wasn’t the monster Prythian paints me to be. Even though I acted like one that night. I was selfish in not telling you. You deserved to know the truth. But please forgive me, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for it in every way I know how. They might seem like empty words, but I love you so much, I don’t think I can live without you.” he finished and I saw a tear slip from his eye. 

“Rhys, I’ve already forgiven you.” I say wiping the tear from his face. “And maybe that makes me a terrible person, forgiving and loving the man who killed my family. But look at what they would’ve done, what they stood for. Tamlin locked me in a cell and was ready to sell me off to be Eris’ breeding vessel. The way my brothers and father always treated me they would’ve done the same, maybe worse.  Who knows what miserable fate you might’ve saved me from. Your true character is reflected in people like Azriel and Cassian, in this beautiful city you’ve kept secret and protected for years. I see all of you Rhysand and there is not a part of you that I don’t love with all that I am.” 

Rhys lets out a sigh of relief before smashing our lips together. I can taste the salt of his tears and the salt of my own. I throw my arms around his neck pulling him impossibly close 

“I love you so much,” he cries between kisses. 

“I love you too,” I say back smiling. I sit down on the bed and pull him down with me. 

“Wait we can’t your still hurt,” he protests. 

“Rhysand, if you don’t get on this bed and fuck me right now I swear on my life I will get myself off.” I gripe at him. 

“While I would love nothing more than to watch you play with your pretty pussy. I think I’d rather do it myself tonight. But you need to tell me if you’re hurting at all okay?” he fusses. 

“I will, I promise! Now please touch me!” I whine taking his hand and placing it on my breast. 

“With pleasure mate,”  he says, squeezing my breast. He snaps his fingers and our clothes are gone. 

“That’s a fun little trick,” I laugh pulling him down, needing to feel his skin on mine.

“Only used for times where I desperately need to be inside you,” he purrs and chills coat my body. 

I kiss him hard letting my hands caress his shoulders and arms, all of him pure muscle, lethal and totally at my mercy. He pulls my hair back to give himself access to my neck and I feel a wave of arousal flow through me as he finds that sweet spot that drives me wild. 

My hand drifts down his front  grazing every muscle on it’s way until I find his cock already hard and dripping with precum. I wrap my fingers  around it and begin stroking it. My hand feeling incredibly small compared to the size of him. His hips buck fucking himself into my hand at the contact. 

“Fuck mate,” he lets out a low groan in my ear. “How is it that even your hands feel perfect around my cock?” 

“It’s because I was made for you,” I muse nibbling his ear. 

“Hmm,” he hums in delight. “You know what was really made for me?”  

“What?” I ask as he pulls his cock from my hand. 

“This,” he smirks before plunging himself inside of me. I arch my back off the mattress in pleasure as he lets out a guttural moan. “Gods your so fucking tight!” 

“Oh fuck Rhys!” I moan, scratching my nails down his back. 

He starts fucking me hard, the mating bond glowing brightly between us. If this is how badly we need one another before the mating ceremony I shudder to think what will happen after. If he thinks a few weeks will be enough he’s dead wrong, I could do this for the rest of my life. 

He snaps his hips at an angle that hits a particularly sensitive spot and I can’t help but moan even louder. 

“Gods I love the sounds you make when I fuck you,” he says with a feral grin before sinking his teeth into my neck. 

“Oh gods Rhys I’m close!” I groan, running my hands through his hair. 

“I’m right behind you mate, make a mess on my cock,” he grunts and it’s enough to send me over the edge with his name on my lips. 

“Fuck y/n!” he screams, spilling his seed inside me.

As I feel his warm cum coat my walls he collapses on top of me and though he’s crushing me it’s an welcome weight. His skin on mine is the best feeling I’ve ever known. His shallow breaths coat my neck as I rub soothing circles on his back. We spend a few minutes catching our breath as I continue to hold him close to me. 

“Did you talk to Cassian and Az about Beron?” I ask. 

“I did and I think we have a solution.” he answers without moving his head from my chest. 

“What is it?” I inquire further, dying to know. 

“We toyed with the idea of having the mating ceremony early but with the meeting so soon it wouldn’t be safe. If we were to walk in there as a newly mated pair I would have Beron’s head ripped off within moments of him talking about you like you’re an object. It’s too dangerous,” Rhys said. 

“Agreed,” I chuckle nervously. “But if we can’t mate officially then what do we do?”

Rhys rolls over from his spot on top of me so that he can see my face, no doubt wanting to gage my reaction to his proposed solution. 

“I make you my High Lady,” he says with pride in his voice. 

I knew that Azriel had said it earlier but at the time I didn’t believe him. It didn’t seem possible. I bore no real powers besides winnowing, I had no political knowledge. How could I possibly be High Lady.  

“But do you really want that?” I ask. “I mean you’re not just doing it to make sure Beron and Tamlin don’t win right?” 

“I’ve always known you were going to be my High Lady y/n. But I knew that the title came with responsibilities. I didn’t want to pressure you into it.” he explains. “But to answer your question more directly, yes, I want it. I want you to be my equal in every way possible. Why do you think I brought up Kallias and Viviane when we were on the Summer Court terrace?”

I smile remembering the interaction.

“Then I guess I’m High Lady of the Night Court now.” I smile triumphantly. 

(I was debating wether or not to put this sort of plot twist in here so please leave some feedback because it helps me to know what you guys like and how I can write better for all you beautiful stars!)

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81, @annaaaaa88 , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92, @aunicornmademedoit, @sharknutz , 

 @slytherintaco , @isa1b2h3 , @nickishadow139  , @sarawritestories , @coisas-da-dani ,  @lovemesomevesey ,  @graceshifts , 

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader smut

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Lucien being the bravest mfer in the series

“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed. “And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.”

"Lucien … Lucien was sent to her as Tamlin’s emissary, to try to treat for peace between them.” Bile rose in my throat. “She refused, and … Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin … The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend.”

Amarantha sighed. “I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

“Let’s say I walk out of here. Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid within five minutes of my leaving. Perhaps he’ll come in five days. Perhaps he won’t come at all. Between you and me, he’s been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. Amarantha’s not exactly pleased with him. Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared— such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

We give them no reason to suspect she might have any abilities, which training will surely do. Don’t give me that look, Lucien. Silence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin’s voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death.

Lucien nodded, glancing to where my mate now waited by the front door. He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

It's the fact that he's BRUTALLY punished for his bravery every time and he continues to fight for what is right OVER AND OVER again. Nobody else even shows anywhere close to the amount of bravery he does throughout the series. for you @decadentpostnachos-evil-twin :))

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

[acourtofthought]

How would you feel if ACOTAR 5 is gwynriel instead of elucien? In one of SJM interviews she stated that after finishing acotar5 she will be working on the 1st book of a different series. So that means acotar6 will come out 2027.

Disappointed. I think there gets to be a point where an author drags out a particular storyline too long (the Blood and Ash series come to mind) and the writing suffers as a result.

Vassa was taken in ACOMAF, we found out by who in ACOWAR and that she as well as the other girls at the lake have been cursed / kidnapped by Koschei. In ACOFAS we're told her freedom will come to an end and reminded of that in ACOSF.

Spring was destroyed in ACOWAR and in ACOFAS, we're told Tamlin is severely depressed but that they'll still need Spring as an ally. SF shows it's been awhile and Tamlin isn't getting better, that they know they need a strong ally in Springs army.

Elucien's bond snapped in ACOMAF, Elain was turned fae and in ACOWAR she lost her father, stabbed a man, was rejected by Graysen, fought with her sister in SF and was rejected by Az yet we've not once been given her inner thoughts of all she's experienced. We don't even see any of the main characters trying to talk to her about any of those things.

And Lucien, the list is too long to include on all his unresolved plots.

Having Nesta's story told first made sense to me because there was never going to be Elucien progress until Nesta began letting go of her protectiveness over Elain, to accept the idea of Lucien (and technically, Nessian's bond was hinted at before Elucien's bond snapped).

Her healing arc was important to Feyre and Elain's stories too (along with herself of course) however it wasn't very plot heavy. But there was no moving forward for anyone until Nesta's anger wasn't destroying everything in Nesta's path. The series, since book 2, has been as much about the sisters relationship to one another as plot and romance and closing that out before moving into a new era makes sense to me.

But Az having his story before Elain and Lucien doesn't seem to fit especially when a Gwynriel romance would probably need at least 6 - 9 months (meaning that almost another year would go by before we even start getting resolution to the above).

I'm not sure that I see anything in his story that is necessary to lead us into the Koschei storyline.

He wasn't in Feyre's "Let's help one sister before helping the other" speech, he wasn't part of Feyre's "I want them all to be happy" speech in ACOFAS.

To me the Illyrians aren't a bigger concern to their entire world than Vallahan setting their sights on the humans or Beron trying to ally with Koschei or how an entire court is now being neglected by its High Lord.

Dragging out Vassa, Koschei, Lucien's father reveal, the Elucien bond, the girls who were kidnapped, Spring, Elain healing from her trauma while she continues to remain in a court she doesn't truly belong just so Az can have his story which doesn't fit in to any of those things does not make any sense to me and honestly, I think it sends a weird message.

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her"

"I'll defeat him with little effort"

"I know, I helped rescue Elain after all"

"There is a darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to"

"She has no interest in him anyway"

Az (no offense) is kind of a dick at times outside of the priestesses.

He makes Mor so uneasy with his behavior that she feels like she needs to lie about what she's doing so he doesn't brood.

He is jealous and bitter towards Lucien and speaks for Elain without ever acknowledging her bravery and strength.

He gives off Tamlin vibes at times and to me that means he needs to be on a time out for a bit. Where he has to really sit and think on why his behaviors were wrong, why he tried to keep Mor and Elain small so he could be the hero, why he had such issues with a guy who is a very decent person.

Giving him a HEA after he treated them like that while Mor still remains unlucky in love, Lucien is struggling, Elain has no found family, it feels like jumping over an important lesson for Az to learn so he can become worthy of Gwyn. Not just in who he is when around her but who he is on his own.

I think Az seeing them happy and actually being happy for them is an important arc for his character.

But, in the end that's just my perception of the situation.

I don't know how SJM thinks, what her plan is, and if Elucien is not next than there's not much I can do but wait!

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar 5 #acotar 6

[witch-and-her-witcher]

Tamsand | Explicit | Monstober Inspired Pre-Canon | Knotting

ao3 (huge thanks to @wilde-knight & @popjunkie42-blog for the beta reads <3)

“The wolf thought to himself, ‘What a tender young creature. What a nice plump mouthful.’” - Brothers Grimm

--

The dinner party had gone just as atrociously as anyone would have anticipated: the High Lords of Spring and Autumn one-upped each other and boasted until the room had spilled over with male bravado and overbearing testosterone. Until their wives were near cowering under the tables and their armful of warrior-trained sons were nearly at each other's throats.

This. This was what Tamlin had been called from his brothers-in-arms and his beloved wilderness for. Broken his peace to witness and forcefully participate in this embarrassing charade of a pissing contest.

At least in the camps, the people were forthright with their intentions.

At least in the camps, they respected Tamlin for the warrior he had grown into.

But not in Rosehall.

In Rosehall, Tamlin was nothing more than the black sheep of the Spring Court. The most vulnerable for the Vanserra brothers. 

The strapping Vanserras, three old enough to sharpen their monstrous canines for use against their enemies while the fourth hell spawn cooked in their mother’s belly. Tamlin wasn’t a small male and had an intimidating wildness about him - but even he cowed under the full attention of their barbed tongues and the honed insults they welded as deftly as their blades.

It didn’t help he had no taste for this pageantry, this political fuckery.

The second oldest viper poked his tongue out, nearly touching Tamlin’s cheek tauntingly, as he breathed down on him. “Your muscles have hardened well, Goldilocks, but I have heard tales of what Spring warbands do with the likes of you. I bet you’re real soft in other places, like a well-worn saddle.”

“Would that excite you?” Tamlin growled in response, cautious of the twitching points of his brothers’ listening ears - waiting for their own opportunity to jump on him later, waiting for something to use as fodder to prove his weakness and unfit presence in their ilk. “Must get you hot all over, to think I don’t have to present every lover to my father first for approval. How does it feel, to only experience Beron’s seconds?”

Before he could be grabbed by the collar, wrenched off his feet, and blamed for ruining the already disastrous dinner, Tamlin stepped away.

It was cowardly. 

It was for their mothers’ sake.

At the other end of the room, speaking softly to each other but watching their sons with apprehension. Lady Laurel surely couldn’t handle an all-out brawl in her condition, and Mother knows the Lady of Spring had been shamed enough by her brood's actions this evening.

So Tamlin tucked tail and slipped out of the formal dining room despite the song in his viscera that begged to feel knuckles collide with flesh in a requiem for vindication. His blood curdled with unbridled rage, skin too tight and heated with the shame of an unanswered call to his honor at his back.

Rise above it. Or at least get the hell out of the manor before he lost his ability to pretend at being the bigger male.

A feral growl hung low in his chest and he didn't care that he snarled at the shimmering green skinned servant, sent him skittering away with a stink of fear. Tamlin had enough wherewithal to grab a bottle of alcohol on his swift retreat and nothing else as he sought out the second to best place to the wilderness to swallow him up and hide him from these overdressed stiffs -

"Wait,” a voice called from the doorway behind him.

Tamlin didn't wait. He set off at a quicker pace, stomping pebbled stone under foot. His anger was only fueled by the uncomfortable, unbroken formal boots he wore. Pinching his toes. Pissing him off.  

"I said wait, you insolent whelp - "

Tamlin wheeled back just as they entered the gardens. Relinquished any control he'd had standing in Rosehall's lavishly decorated dining room and accepted he might get ground into dust against the eldest Vanserra now. They weren't all that different in age and he was sure whatever Eris had on him in height Tamlin compensated in muscle. But what he knew for certain he lacked was Eris's cutthroat moves in a fight.

He might lose an eye, but damn it all to hell if he was going to listen to one more insult without matching it in kind.

"Go to hell, Eris," he snarled, pressing chest to chest with the male smiling cooly down on him. "If I hear another word from one of you inbred firelings I will shred - Cauldron!"

Tamlin leapt back. Away from the fire that had licked the knuckles of his clenched fists.

"Easy with the bloodline accusations." Eris smoothed the front of his jacket. Sniffed pompously. "Last I heard, it was your brother engaged to be wed to his first cousin … After being caught in a torrid affair that bound him by honor to do so."

"Allegedly."

Eris snorted. "Right. Allegedly." His posture remained poised, but relaxed, despite his burst of magic in warning before, and his cool amber gaze seemed to uncoil some of the tension within Tamlin. "Do you intend to drink that bottle alone?"

"Do you intend to let the role of loyal ass kisser remain absent at your father's side?"

"Someone will surely fill in for me." Heat flickered momentarily in his eyes, but Eris didn't rise to the bait. "Come now, show me where you go off to brood in such a state. Misery loves company and all."

Tamlin considered. Mind reeling. 

This was exactly the reason he avoided these people, these events. Eris had just been privy to the insults hurtled Tamlin's direction, egged his brother on until they'd been standing toe to toe. Now here he was, back to the cantankerous excuse of a comrade Tamlin caught glimpses of without watchful eyes.

Why could no one just be who they were? Why was all the posturing and playacting necessary?

The least he could do was not make himself one of them. Tamlin could drink the bottle himself - but he didn't need to, would prefer company. Always preferred company.

"Don't try to compare your misery to mine, alright? You win that contest," Tamlin said with a sharp nudge of his chin into the garden. "This way, then."

The Autumn red cape affixed roguishly over Eris's shoulders snapped as he followed Tamlin into the gardens. 

continue reading

#tamsand #tamlin x rhys #smut #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing

[velidewrites]

When a neighbouring kingdom of Scythia begs for aid in the impending war, Prince Lucien is forced into a marriage with its princess.

He doesn't expect to fall for her handmaiden instead.

Pairing: Elain x Lucien

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury; Eventual smut

Tags: Alternate Universe, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Pining, Forced Proximity, and everything else that makes two characters Go Insane, Complete disregard of the canon world map, More Tags on AO3

Fic Masterlist || AO3

Chapter I

Lucien was going to kill his father.

Perhaps not in the literal sense of the word, but Helion was about to get an earful nonetheless, and one that was sure to make him wish he’d never sired an heir to his kingdom. Right now, Lucien certainly regretted being one, anyway.

The least King Helion Spellcleaver could have done was deliver the message personally. It wouldn’t have made his news any more bearable, but still—the effort would’ve been appreciated. Instead, Lucien received the order from a very smug Jurian, who had not been able to stop talking about it since this morning.

Congratulations, son. You are now engaged to be married.

He’d been a fool to think this would never happen to him—had grown too comfortable in his role as courtier and emissary of Montesere to remember that above all, he was a prince. The only prince this kingdom had to offer.

The rational part of him, the same one he’d conveniently opted to hide away for the rest of the day, knew his father was not to blame. Helion had given him the freedom Lucien doubted any other heir could boast of—far across the continent, Prince Tamlin had been married two years already, despite only being a year his senior. But Tamlin’s kingdom had needed the alliance, needed the strength and wealth it offered—with Vallahan’s former might crumbling away generation after generation, their King had simply been left out of options.

Lucien’s father had options. Montesere, after all, had been prospering ever since Helion assumed its throne. Located at the southern centre of the continent, the country had become the very capital of music, arts, and academia. Scholars had travelled from across the Western Sea to lay their eyes upon his father’s thousand libraries, rumoured to host answers to any ancient questions they’d come to ask. Lucien, for one, had always thought they made an excellent spot for, well—less than scholarly activities.

Though, he supposed, everything depended on perspective. Getting his cocked sucked by a pretty, foreign researcher in a stash of books, for example, had definitely felt enlightening to him.

He would’ve given just about anything to sneak out there for the rest of the night. His kingdom, his title—anything for a moment of reprieve before his life fell into pieces.

If only.

The quiet knock on his door all but confirmed the helplessness of his situation, as though even the palace itself was intent on reminding him. Lucien let out a long-suffering sigh.

Another knock. “Lucien?” a gentle voice sounded, slightly muffled through the sandstone walls. ���Are you in there?”

“Yes, Mother.” He rose from his bed, straightening out his somewhat rumpled shirt. “Come in.”

The door opened with a soft croak, and the Queen appeared.

“Still busy brooding, I see,” she observed, something twinkling in her russet eyes as she made her way inside, the silks of her gown trailing her steps. Their ivory colour offset her skin nicely—every year, the summer replaced its usual paleness with a delicate, shimmering tan.

“I think I’m allowed to brood a little,” Lucien noted, though a certain lightness managed to creep into his tone. His mother’s presence had always grounded him—calm and steady even when everything around him became too volatile.

The Queen hummed. “You certainly are,” she agreed. “But I think you’ve grown old enough now to not dwell on it for too long.”

Lucien couldn’t help but sigh again. “I just…forgive me, Mother,” he said. “I just don’t see how any of this is necessary.”

She angled her head, her long, auburn hair—the same shade as his own—shifting with the movement. “I think you do,” she mused quietly. “But you’re having a difficult time coming to terms with it.”

Well, shit.

“Don’t blame your father for this,” his mother continued softly. “He’s doing the best he can, you know.”

“Is he, though?” he snapped, the words leaving his throat before he could manage to stop them. Lucien cursed himself slightly as those russet eyes narrowed in reprimand.

His mother said, ever so patient, “You know he’d never put you in a situation from which you stand nothing to gain.”

“What do I stand to gain from this, Mother?” The question was almost desperate. “This…marriage?”

The Queen sighed, the sound so much like his own. “Lucien.” She gestured to the small table toward the back wall, where a large window overlooked the bustling city below. “Sit.”

Only when he rested his back against the chair’s wooden frame, wordlessly gazing outside, did his mother speak again. “You are aware of the threat to Scythia.”

Lucien nodded. “Yes.” Vaguely—the neighbouring kingdom had been unusually cryptic in their messages. Its main purpose was clear, though—Scythia was facing an imminent war, war that, if not contained, could very well escalate far beyond the country’s borders. A war threatened by none other than Rask—a kingdom that rivalled Montesere in all aspects but one. Their size, their infrastructure, their military might—Rask had it all. The only thing they did not have was a Queen.

For the Queen of Rask was now the Queen of Montesere—and Lucien’s mother.

So Lucien said, “You shouldn’t feel guilty about this, Mother. It was him who banished you.” He’d never spoken King Beron Vanserra’s name out loud. He was afraid of the anger that stirred within him from just a mere thought of the man—thought the Queen did not so much as flinch.

“It is not guilt I feel, but understanding,” she countered. “I know what he—what Rask—is capable of. I’d never wish such fate upon anyone.”

Lucien swallowed hard. “Why not send the army to Scythia, then?” he pleaded. “Why do we need all of this?”

“Because,” his mother pushed, “Like I told you, we do stand to gain from it. Montesere, your future kingdom, does. Lucien,” she said, her tone stern even as compassion shone in her eyes. “King Koschei’s daughter is his only heir. Scythia borders the Western Sea, cuts us off from its resources—a union with the Princess would mean access to them all, including their trade routes to Prythian.  Do you know what this would mean?”

“I do,” he said, “But I also know we’ve been doing perfectly fine without them.”

Had it been arrogant of him, to demand so much? To be unwilling to take a wife solely for the political advantages she would offer? He’d always been a good courtier, had always served to the best of his country’s interests as emissary—perhaps…perhaps it was as prince that he would finally fail.

That tinge of guilt scraping at his chest only sharpened its claws as his mother said, “A good king always seeks to better his kingdom. To give his subjects the life they deserve.”

Father had done more than that, he wanted to say. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard you believe I can do, I will never be a better king than him.

But instead, Lucien only said, “I simply wish there was another way.”

His mother smiled at that at last. “Give it a chance, dear. She’s not the enemy. Besides,” she added, “I hear Princess Vassa is quite the beauty.”

“They all are,” Lucien murmured. Every princess, every lady he’d ever met had been beautiful—as though beauty was some sort of prerequisite to attend court these days. He did’t want a wife for her beauty.

He didn’t want a wife at all.

“All I ask, Lucien, is that you at least meet her before you decide your life has fallen apart.”

He huffed a small laugh. “That’s sure one way to put it.”

That familiar twinkle returned to her eyes. “You and your father both have a flare for the dramatic.”

Lucien took a breath—one last second to himself before his words cemented his fate.

“No chaperones,” he said. The last thing he wanted when meeting his future wife was to be surrounded by a battalion of noblemen and advisors. If he truly was to spend the rest of his life with Princess Vassa, he wanted to at least meet her without the pressure of their watchful eyes.

His mother’s smile widened—as though somehow, she’d read the thoughts racing through his head by merely looking at his face.

“I’ve raised my son well,” she remarked, though something like sadness hid behind her words. Lucien opened his mouth to ask—to make sure he’d done as she had wished—but the Queen had already risen from her seat, her back turned to him as she made her way out. “Make sure you’re ready—they arrive tomorrow,” she said.

And with that, she was gone. 

***

At the very least, Lucien did not look half bad.

Unwanted or not, he supposed he did want his wife to think of him as handsome. He’d done his best to appear presentable—had even worked on his hair for the occasion. Most of the time, a single leather strap would suffice to tame the unruly, auburn mess—today, though, he’d woven small braids into it, letting them fall down his back and over his shoulder in a somewhat organised effort.

He’d made sure to select his own wardrobe, too, desperately wanting to avoid the palace staff gossiping on just how much he’d chosen to reveal to his betrothed. Montesere’s traditional clothing was loose enough.

The robe, a warm shade of ivory similar to the gown his mother had worn yesterday, hung over his body down to the stone floor, clasped just above his hips with a golden belt, engraved with his kingdom’s insignia—a large sun with a hundred beams circling it proudly. Two cuffs in an identical design adorned his wrists in traditional Montesere fashion, covering a large portion of his forearms before finally revealing the golden-brown skin of his arms, peering through the flowy sleeves of his robe. A careful, triangular cut opened the fabric slightly at his chest, enough to prove to the Princess that her fiancé did more than spend his days sitting around at meetings. He’d spent enough years of his youth in training to know politics were only one aspect of a future king’s rule.

Evidently, marriage was one of them too.

He was grateful Jurian was away, that he’d only be returning later in the afternoon—after Lucien and the Princess were acquainted. He probably would have found this entire ordeal hilarious, the prick.

Their first encounter had been arranged to take place in one of the drawing rooms on the lower level of the palace. It laid close to the throne room, as well as the libraries—if the conversation got too dreadful to bear, Lucien would have the convenient excuse of offering her a tour, spending the next hour or two discussing the origin of the marble pedestals adorning most of the spaces. The though itself, frankly, filled him sufficiently with dread—what if the meeting did go wrong? If they truly had nothing in common? Would they really spend the rest of their lives boring each other with endless talks of architecture? The Montesere Palace was sizeable, to be sure—but not nearly enough to cover a lifetime of being shackled to one another.

Deciding that one more hesitant thought would send him into a spiral of insanity, Lucien took one, last look into the mirror before striding out of his chambers.

His journey downstairs seemed no more than a haze. His body manoeuvred through the bright halls of sandstone and marble without his mind even registering the movements, too focused on the loud thundering of his heart.

The Queen had offered to keep him company for the first few minutes of their meeting, but Lucien insisted on going alone. The truth was, he admitted shamefully in the privacy of his thoughts, Lucien wanted to talk to the Princess without interference because somewhere, deep inside of him, there was still a glimmer of hope for another solution. Some ridiculous, wishful part of him was still hoping that perhaps, he could convince her that this union would ruin them both—that, with her on his side, they could find another solution. One that, if executed correctly, could appease all parties involved and eliminate the threat King Vanserra had posed to Scythia—and possibly, the entire continent.

And to do that, they needed to be alone.

When the large, ornate door of the drawing room finally stood before him, Lucien loosed a shaky breath, his palm tight on the golden handle.

He could do this.

Right?

Without another thought, Lucien opened the door.

The sunlight blinded him at first, the momentary flash enough to shield everything else from view. The drawing room, it seemed, had been directly linked to the outside terrace leading straight to the royal gardens. This was one of his mother’s favourite rooms, he realised. She and his father would often take their morning tea there, leaving the doors wide open to let the summer breeze become one with the space. He wondered if her choice of this place had been intentional.

If she hoped for him to fall in love, too.

Within an instant, his vision cleared, the room coming into full view at last.

As if of their own accord, Lucien’s eyes flickered to where the sun poured in through the windows.

To where the princess stood, illuminated by its soft, golden light.

Lucien stopped breathing entirely.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

So achingly beautiful, in fact, that he could not remember how to breathe air into his lungs again—could not decide where to look to take her in fully, for every inch of her seemed to make all thoughts evaporate from his head.

As though made of freshly harvested honey, her golden-brown hair dripped down her back in soft waves, glistening each time the outside breeze whooshed into the room. It framed her lovely curves, veiled by a gown of the lightest amethyst that hugged her body in the most delicious way he’d ever seen. There was little indication she was of regal descent—no crown, no tiara to lay atop her head, only the small, tear-shaped pearls adorning her ears, twinkling at him as they caught a ray of sunshine.

It was her eyes he liked the most, though.

Brown as a fawn’s coat, soft and warm and welcoming, the kind he’d want to bury himself in had the circumstances been different. Despite all the sunlight surrounding her presence, she radiated all the light, as though the sun merely reflected what she offered.

That was what this woman really was, Lucien decided then and there. Sunlight.

But then, another movement shifted the heavy air somewhere to the princess’s side, and Lucien’s gaze couldn’t help but follow suit.

The words escaped him. “You were supposed to come alone.”

For standing beside Vassa was another woman, a greenish cloak shielding most of her face from view—except for the cerulean eyes, now glinting back at him.

The princess hummed, and Lucien’s eyes darted back to her. “Of all the welcomes I imagined, this is definitely not what I expected,” she said, and damn her, even her voice was nice. Soft and melodic, like the first birdsong in springtime.

Forcing some shred of composure back into his body, Lucien cleared his throat. “We had an agreement, did we not?”

“We did,” she agreed, tilting her head slightly at him. “But, I’m sure you can excuse a woman wishing to protect herself in a strange country she’d never once stepped foot in.”

Lucien straightened. “Strange country?”

It was her turn to shift, her shoulders rolling back at the question in his tone. “Apologies,” she clarified, “Foreign is what I meant.”

It dawned on him then, for what might have been the very first time, that perhaps the princess wasn’t perfectly content with this arrangement, either.

Would it make his plans easier? He’d come into this meeting with a clear idea of how he wanted it to unfold—he’d done it countless of times as emissary. So why, this time, was he feeling so…startled?

“Well, Your Highness,” he began, “I can assure you that in this country, no matter how foreign, you will be well protected for as long as you remain here.”

Her brows knitted over those doe-like eyes. “As long as I remain here?” Confusion laced her tone. “I was under the impression my stay was more of a…” she hesitated. “Permanent nature.”

Gods. Had one look at a beautiful woman truly ruined his decade of experience as a courtier? In his twenty-four years of life, Lucien had never felt so tongue-tied.

So he said, “Forgive me.” He took a careful step forward. “Shall we…shall we start over?”

She seemed to relax at that. “I’d like that,” she said, and Lucien released a breath.

“My name is Lucien,” he offered, sketching a bow.

Her gaze followed the movement. “I…Vassa.” She offered a small curtsy of her own. “It’s a pleasure, Your Highness.”

“Just Lucien is fine.”

Vassa nodded. “Good.”

Something chirped in the background, and she whipped back toward the sound—to where a small flock of birds flitted over the gardens, swaying atop the warm, gentle wind. Her gaze seemed to fix on the sight, as thought temporarily mesmerised by the rolling green land sprawled beyond the terrace.

“Would you like to see it?” he found himself asking all of a sudden.

Vassa turned back to him. “Pardon?”

“The garden,” he said, gesturing behind her. “I could show you, if you’d like.”

Something glimmered in her gaze—a familiar flash of sunlight. “I would,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He couldn’t help but wish to see it bloom in full.

He turned to her right, where the cloaked figure now moved an inch closer. “I understand your…handmaiden will be joining us?” He could only assume that was the role of the mysterious woman trailing the princess.

“I’m afraid that wherever I go, she goes.”

“I understand,” Lucien said. “After you, then.”

As they descended down the stone stairs of the terrace, there was no doubt in his mind that the stifled gasps he’d picked up had come from the princess, completely entranced by her surroundings as she took in the flora blossoming around them. She seemed to take a liking to the tulips in particular, her face filled with quiet awe at the flowers that bordered the main pathway. Her gaze followed each buzz she’d heard in the bushes, each trill up in the trees, each flash of colour she must’ve found foreign enough to pause briefly and admire it in full.

When she’d stopped by the sunflowers, tall enough to cast large shadows over the gravel they walked on, Lucien dared to remark, “You seem to be…enjoying this.”

She faced him again, a pink flush creeping up her cheeks. Lucien was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to touch it—to find out if it was as warm as her gaze as it locked on his.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I used to garden back home.”

That gave him pause. “Since when do princesses revel in gardening?”

She stiffened slightly—but then she asked, the question slow and careful, “You do things differently in Montesere?”

It wasn’t Montesere’s customs that made him surprised—here, ever since his father had taken the throne, women and men alike could engage in any activities they desired. No, it was Scythia and its elusive king that made Lucien question just how much he truly knew about the freedom the country offered.

“Yes—well, no. We don’t,” he said, silently cursing himself for stumbling over his words again. “I just…” Gods, her eyes really were beautiful. “I’ve never seen anyone show such…”

Vassa angled her head. “Yes?”

“Care,” he finally uttered.

She considered, tearing her gaze off him to look to the bright sunflowers again. She reached out a hand, her thumb brushing over one of the yellow petals, and Lucien realised there was a roughness to her palms—calloused skin near her fingernails, a few cuts at the back of her palm.

Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “Aren’t we supposed to care for the things we love?”

His mother’s words lit up some slumbering place in his mind. A good king always seeks to better his kingdom. To give his subjects the life they deserve, she said. Wasn’t that exactly what Vassa now spoke of? Care?

Love?

“Yes,” Lucien hummed. “I suppose we are.”

Maybe…just maybe, he could postpone his plans for now—could try and discourage this union later, when…when the time was right. When his head finally stopped spinning, as if dazed by her words, her eyes, her smile.

“Vassa,” he said, his voice strangely tight. “Tell me what it’s like for you—back home.”

She turned to him again. “I—”

“Your Highness,” a smooth, male voice sounded behind them. A guardsman approached quickly, moving past Vassa’s handmaiden to stand at his side. “Apologies for the intrusion, but the General has returned. Your advisors request your presence immediately.”

Excellent timing, Jurian, Lucien thought bitterly.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said to Vassa, then smiled slightly as he teased, “This isn’t how I imagined our first meeting, either.”

Vassa laughed, the warmth of the sound practically sinking into his chest. 

“I hope we can finish our conversation soon?” he asked. “I believe your formal introduction is to take place in the throne room this afternoon.”

Vassa’s smile faded. “Oh.” Had he said something wrong? “Yes—yes,” she repeated, and when her smile returned, it no longer reached her eyes—as thought it wasn’t the princess, but a different person now speaking to him tightly, her familiar warmth gone with the summer breeze.

Lucien tried again. “Perhaps we could discuss after that?”

But Vassa only nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

***

The throne to his father’s left sat empty, for Lucien chose to stand instead.

Truth be told, anxiety had been trailing him ever since he’d left the meeting in the early hours of the afternoon. He’d been waiting for the evening to peer through the clouds at last, so that Vassa’s formal introduction to the court could proceed as scheduled. So that he could talk to her again.

He couldn’t explain it—couldn’t explain why he wanted to know more about her, but the only thing he could think of in that garden was to ask. About her home, about her garden, about the things that made her light up with a smile and the things that made her brows crease with worry. Much like the scholars in Montesere’s libraries, he would feel restless until he knew all the answers.

“You’re fidgeting,” a rich, deep voice spoke behind him. Lucien turned to face the King.

Helion’s dark brows were high with amusement. “I’d never known you to be so nervous around women, son.”

Lucien shifted on his feet. “I’m not nervous.”

To Helion’s right, the Queen smiled knowingly. “I take it your afternoon went well, then?”

Lucien’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It did, until we got interrupted.”

A light chuckle sounded somewhere to his left. “Sorry about that,” Jurian said, still in his heavy armour.

Lucien flashed him a glare.

His mother waved a hand. “There will be plenty of time to get acquainted, dear.”

As if on command, the grand doors opened, revealing the princess and her entourage.

Only it wasn’t Vassa who stood at its very front, approaching the dais.

It was her handmaiden, those cerulean eyes bright with challenge.

Lucien’s gaze darted all over the small group, something tight twisting in his chest. It wasn’t possible—it couldn’t have been.

And yet, the woman he’d thought was Vassa now stood at the princess’s right, dressed in the familiar cloak of her handmaiden.

“You lied to me,” he accused, a bitter mix of anger and shame rising through his chest as his gaze locked with that of the princess—the true princess, who now stood at the foot of the dais, her chin held up high.

“I wanted to find out who you truly were,” she said calmly. “This marriage is about more than you and me—it’s about the fate of my kingdom. I wanted to know whose hands I’m placing it in.” Princess Vassa gestured to her right. “I’ve asked my handmaiden to pose as myself for our first meeting, with me observing in the background. I must say,” she added, a sly smile curving her full lips, “I expected to be discovered much sooner.”

Lucien was seething.

But then, a loud, earnest laugh echoed through the great hall. “Clever, Your Highness,” his father said. “I do look forward to hearing more about your…” his eyes twinkled, “Observations.”

Vassa only nodded.

His mother smiled. “We’d like to welcome you to Montesere, Princess Vassa. Please know we will do everything in our power to assist you and your kingdom through this difficult time.”

“You have my thanks,” Vassa said, something tighter filling her voice now. “Your help is, and will continue to be, invaluable to us.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of assigning you a security team,” Helion told her. “You’ll be quite safe here at the palace, of course, but one can never be too cautious when it comes to the threats of Beron Vanserra.” He practically spat out the name.

“That won’t be necessary,” Vassa interjected. “I have a security team of my own—they are perfectly capable of protecting me.”

“A personal guard, then,” Helion insisted. “I am certain my son will sleep better knowing your safety is being well looked after.”

Vassa’s lips tightened. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The King gestured to his left. “General Jurian shall be at your service.” A flicker of brown eyes was the only indication of Jurian’s surprise. “He will escort you to your chambers for the rest of the night.”

“I understand,” Vassa said, not even looking in Jurian’s direction. From the corner of his eye, Lucien could see his friend’s face burning at the obvious dismissal. “Your Majesties,” Vassa curtsied. “Your Highness,” she added, glancing at Lucien.

“We look forward to proceeding with our discussions tomorrow,” his mother said.

Vassa curtsied again, and that was that.

Before she turned to leave the room at last, Lucien dared to look at the woman at her side again. Dared to look into those sun-like eyes, asking them the only question that mattered.

Who are you?

But she only turned away, leaving the room behind her princess.

When the door slammed shut behind them, Lucien whipped to his father. “Call it off,” he told him.

“I will not,” Helion said calmly.

“She tricked me,” he seethed.

“Spectacularly so,” his father agreed, that infuriating smile playing on his lips again. “But I’m afraid this union is too important for something so trivial to jeopardise it.”

Lucien’s shoulders slumped.

Great.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @asnowfern @areyoudreaminof @readercacau @fieldofdaisiies @melting-houses-of-gold @octobers-veryown @selesera @addicted-to-nothing @wilde-knight @emily-gsh @thelovelymadone @corcracrow @darling-archeron @kingofsummer93 @panicatthenightcourt

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fic #acotar #my writing

[theladyofbloodshed]

my memory is shit and it has been a time since i last read acomaf, but when tamlin locked feyre, he was wrong, yes. But the fact that feyre didn't want to hear him and was constantly tring to put herself in risk of physical harm (like, she was too skinny and sick, had no trainning in self defense and no one new yet that she had power) and she already has a history of not listening safety warnings and going to dangerous places anyway (like in the camalai, she went there as human, two times i think, and left her room at night insteaf of locking the door as anyone with a drop of sense would do in this situation) wouldn't make his actions understandable? (Not justified bc i still think it was wrong, like, when i imagine myself in his shoes i honestly not sure what i would do with a person like feyre bc she doesn't listen. I think I would put 3 bodyguards to take around in a city maybe? Or if the situation was too bad to at least let a space around the manor so she can walk around? I really idk...)

And when we compare it to acosf, nesta wasn't putting herself in risk physical harm, she was simple having sex, she was starving herself, yes but she was drinking so even as it wasn't the ideal, it kept her from completely starving. And the reason she was locked in the house of wind (or indirectly locked but still locked, since no one would take her out of there and she was too weak) was bc the ic felt shame of her.

What i mean is, when comparing both situations:

Feyre was locked bc she constantly doesn't listen to safety warnings.

Nesta was locked bc ic was ashammed of her.

And Tamlin is saw as the devil who did the worst thing in this situation, while what was done to Nesta is justified, when from a logical point of view what Tamlin did is easier to understand when you look at the danger feyre would put herself in, while what was done to nesta was purely bc she didn't do what was expected of her.

Many people really don't look at the situation from Tamlin's POV. Feyre didn't follow his warnings multiple times as a human and needed rescuing multiple times. He sent her away. She came back. She endured hell at Rhys' hands and then Amarantha killed her. Rhys has a magical deal where he will steal her a week every month and hasn't come to collect. Rhys - his worst enemy - hasn't come to collect Feyre, but why???

Tamlin is already paranoid at this point, but his manor should now be safe thanks to the magic returning. It is likely the one place he can keep Feyre safe from Rhys and all other threats. For him, keeping her in that house was about keeping her safe from Rhys/the Attor/other threats.

He was also not in a place where he could offer her stability or help because he needed help too. He suffered for 50 years, but prior to that we even know from Rhys that Tamlin's family is worse than "Beron's brood".

What Tamlin did was not right, but for him that was the only option he could see that would keep Feyre safe in a court where he had few sentries.

I saw a post on reddit the other day that annoyed me because it was talking about a sex scene at the beginning of ACOMAF and how it sealed the deal that they wouldn't be endgame, but Feyre was the one who kept initiating sex with him. Tamlin was often at the bottom of the bed in his beast form, not sleeping. He was not mentally okay either.

With Nesta, all of the IC (except maybe Elain) are mentally stable (okay and maybe azriel). They are all in a place where they can offer support and it not be detrimental to their own wellbeing. The issue we have with the IC is that - Amren washed her hands of Nesta - Rhys doesn't like Nesta - Mor doesn't like Nesta - Cassian only wants to sleep with Nesta

Which leaves Azriel as the only neutral member of the IC to help Nesta*

The moment they met any resistance from Nesta, it was treated as her being difficult. Not that she was somebody in pain. She wasn't ever offered the same love that Feyre was offered when she first came to Velaris. Nobody ever tried to be her friend before they became her jailor. Would it have been so difficult to have just gone to a tavern with her and open up that channel of conversation?**

If putting Nesta in the house of wind was about her safety then they would have done it sooner. They left her for months and months drinking and sleeping around. She could have been killed by any random stranger she met. It was only when she ran up a massive bill and put it in Feysand's name, did they find an issue with her behaviour.

Their idea of "help" was forcing her to do an activity she didn't want to do, in an outfit she wasn't comfortable in, in a place none of them like, in front of misogynists and they literally could not understand why nesta didn't want to train in Windhaven.

*all my nesta vs the buffer girlies can i get a heyyyy

**all my steel & flame girlies can i get a heyyyy

#anon asks

[daycourtofficial]

in honour of disputing the finance bro accusations - here’s the lads and the vibes/majors/jobs i think they’d have.

eris - yes academic!! i really want him to do lit because i do but i agree that history makes more sense for him! he also gives me lawyer vibes (i have several hcs for this pls ask me to elaborate lol)

lucien - communications major, of course. does a lot of ~media~ stuff but i see him doing a bit of whatever he wants. gets really into sculpting at one point. actor, ambassador, art gallery guy?

tamlin - living out his band/bard dreams, got into julliard but wasn’t allowed to go, poster child for gifted kid burnout (was an olympian at one point) (i can’t stop picturing kurt cobain)

cassian - sports science? business? undercover cop?

rhysand - business major. did psychology for a semester. has been known to throw around the name “old sport” unironically. is a finance bro. self made billionaire ceo of his father’s company.

azriel - criminology? brooding art student? *gasp* a spy??

tarquin - did marine biology and philosophy, started some sustainable green technology company with his friends, it’s going great except rhysand really wants to merge.

helion - big producer. a lot of his philanthropic work includes solar panels and energy solutions. wants to “uncleave the wealth divide,” rhysand wants in on what he thinks is an embezzlement scheme.

thesan - is basically who. might cure cancer. wanted to be an ornithologist.

beron - has a hand in every money making cooking jar. judge? senator? rob kardashian of defence lawyers? walt disney??

kallias - greta thunberg who? was a prodigal figure skater turned hockey player. has been protesting the polar ice caps melting from the affected sites for ages. twitter trolls like to tell him that global warming isn’t why his career died.

in retrospect i have no idea what this is but i hope it brings you some amusement lol

Bestie darling this is what ask boxes are FOR. I hollered at Thesan wanting to be an ornithologist. I see lawyer vibes for Eris but PLEASE elaborate more. He just has such academic vibes but maybe I’m biased bc he’d look so hot in a sweater vest. I could see Eris being super into literature.

Rhysand is a finance bro it’s an unfortunate reality but it’s the truth. I DIED at ‘self made billionaire of father’s company’ anon you are so shady and I love you for that. That sentence ALONE told me your stance on the Kardashians and I wholeheartedly agree.

I feel like Az would have multiple random ass degrees - but I definitely think it’d be foreign affairs/criminology/computer science based.

Cassian is definitely a professional athlete who got a degree in Spanish. He retires and becomes a commentator who is very popular.

Tamlin would be living his dream just playing the fiddle

Kallias being a retired figure skater is perfect no notes

Tbh this was perfect please send more or feel free to elaborate

#ask

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - ACOFAS Chapter 5

Join me on a critical reread of A Court of Frost and Starlight

Chapter 5 - F/eyre

“In place of those monthly, human discomforts was a biannual week of stomach-shredding agony. Even Madja, R/hys’s favored healer, could do little for the pain short of rendering me unconscious.”

Prythian needs better healthcare for women. Sorry, Madja, but why are you only able to perform miracles on men?

“But conceiving amongst the Fae was rare and difficult enough “that I sometimes wondered if waiting until I was ready for children might wind up biting me in the ass.”

Why is F/eyre acting like she’s running out of time. She’s 21. You cannot tell me fae have the same timeline for reproduction as humans. Also why is it so difficult to conceive? And why is it seemingly no issue at all for F/eyre to conceive within a year or how Lady Autumn was able to conceive a whole brood?

“But he hadn’t pushed, or asked. I’d once told him that I wanted to live with him, experience life with him, before we had children. I still held to that. There was so much to do, our days too busy to even think about bringing a child into the world,”

As she should. She’s freaking immortal.

“I’d have to find some way to convince Nesta to send word when hers started. Like hell would I allow her to endure that pain alone. I wasn’t sure she could endure that pain alone.”

I almost wish we had seen this. She would be so mean, it’d be glorious. I also bet she’d find a healer that could actually treat cramps for Elain.

“How Lucien withstood it, I didn’t know. Not that he’d shown any interest in bridging that gap between them.”

Seems pretty respectful to me.

“No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. So there is no excuse for her behavior.”

My assumption here is that he thinks she is hard enough to do better, but that’s clearly not the case if she’s been drowning herself in booze ever since the war ended. Maybe by Illyrian he means, not interested in being ruled by someone who actively dislikes them.

“I cannot forgive anyone who made you suffer.”

Except himself.

“But he still didn’t care about those who’d made him suffer.”

Doesn’t he? Amarantha made him suffer and R/hysand said he’d kill her if she were still around. Tamlin caused him suffering as well, and he makes a big point to shit on him whenever he can. Who else has even caused him suffering that is still around?

“Should that be my Solstice gift to you?” he murmured. “Forgiving Nesta for letting her fourteen-year-old sister go into those woods?”

For those in the back, it was Papa Archeron who should have been caring for them, not Nesta. Also pretty sure F/eyre liked hunting for her family a lot more than being drugged by R/hysand.

“I wanted you, even Under the Mountain,”

She really shouldn’t have and I’m pretty sure didn’t.

/// are used to observe anti- etiquette. If you’re wondering why I’m reading something I’m critical of, don’t.

#ell reads #ell reads ACOFAS #anti sjm #anti acotar #sjm critical

[azsazz]

Aching for Autumn

Lucien x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: May I request an SBA for Lucien? Where he’s kinda homesick and in the human lands or night court and you do the usual fall activists and turn your house into a mini autumn court to make him fell better? Like maybe apple picking, carving a pumpkin, etc.? I feel like Lucien needs more love.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,430

_________________________________________

“Hey you,” you greet gently as you approach your mate, who is leaning over the railing at the House of Wind, a half full glass of wine in his hand. You thread your arm through his, leaning your head on Lucien’s shoulder as you look down across the sparkling city below.

He’d snuck off since you’d arrived for dinner with the Inner Circle, opting for a few moments alone so he could silently brood over today.

The first day of autumn was always hard for Lucien, reminded of the court he was chased out of, but the good memories always seemed to bubble up at the start of fall. He so dearly missed picking apples and pumpkins with his mother for the Forest House decor. His brothers had always made fun of him for it but he loved getting alone time with the Lady of Autumn.

There’s really nothing quite like the traditions of his home court here in Night. No month-long festivals with enough spiked cider and cinnamon sugar donuts to make your stomach clench at the mere thought of consuming one more until next autumn. No field mazes to stumble into, one too many spiced rums, getting lost and having to call for help until a sentry arrived with a stern look and a horse to lead you back. No scorching bonfires, so tall you’d think they touched the moon, with stories to scare you from sleeping for days.

He really, truly missed it.

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before he lets his own rest atop yours, sighing longingly. Around you he doesn’t have to hide.

You knew how he felt about the first day of autumn. You’d even told him that you didn’t have to go to dinner with the Inner Circle but he’d insisted he would be fine, they needed you there. 

He was set to go off in the morning, headed for Spring. As emissary to the Night Court he was in works of rebuilding a relationship with Tamlin, not that the High Lord knew he was working this closely with Rhysand. Some things were just better left unsaid.

You ached for him. Not only was he homesick, but he was being sent off to the Spring Court. Eternal spring. At least the Night Court’s cool breezes eased the longing he felt. If he closed his eyes he could pretend that he was in the Autumn Court once again.

An idea sparked in your mind and you perked up slightly, your mate looking down at you curiously.

“What is it?” his brows furrow, metal eye catching the moonlight, whirring softly as he tries to figure out that odd tweak of warmth you’d let slide down the bond.

“Oh nothing,” you respond, grinning up at him as you take the glass from his hands, taking a swig of the sweet drink.

He shakes his head fondly, “I don’t even want to know.”

“Good,” you laugh, taking his hand in your own and retreating towards the house, “Because I wasn’t going to tell you anyway.”

__________

Everything is perfect.

You’d gotten up early with your mate, spending the morning hours before the sun had even awoken with warm drinks in your hands and soft kisses shared between the two of you. He’d only be gone for the day, set to arrive home in the early hours of the evening, but your stomach twisted with worry anyway. 

Worry for him and worry for your plan.

With a final hot kiss that would leave you aching for him all day he winnowed off with a smirk, knowing exactly the effect his lips had on you.

You let the daze clear from your mind before you set to work.

There wasn’t much that you could do to transform your apartment into an autumn court paradise, but you tried your best, going out to the shops in the city for ingredients to make your mates favorite delicacies. You’d even found colorful hand knit sweaters down at one of the shops in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. The cream colored sweater had been displayed in the window, orange and brown trim jumping out at you. You’d gotten two, one in Lucien’s size and one in yours, perfect for the night ahead.

You’d had to make two trips to the city, arms full with supplies. When you thought you’d had everything you needed you returned to your apartment and set straight to work.

Building the fire in the hearth was no problem, and you collected your cinnamon and clove into a pot with a bit of water, setting it on the stovetop to simmer, smiling at the scent. Your mate would absolutely love this.

Setting up all of the cooking ingredients on the counter and pumpkins at the table you admired your work, but it didn’t seem like enough. There had to be something more that you could do. 

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky and you frantically wracked your mind for any other ideas.

Perking up, you call out to your High Lady and snatch your coat, headed to the Rainbow.

__________

You wring your hands together nervously as you wait for Lucien to arrive home. Glancing at all of the things you had done to try and make your apartment feel like home to him, making sure everything was set up and ready to go, it was all you could do to keep your mind occupied while you waited.

You’d slipped into your own sweater, relishing in the soft fabric. Being from the Night Court you often wore darked colors so being in this cream sweater was startling, but you found you quite liked the way it made your eyes lighter, and it was so comfortable.

You hope that he likes his.

The door opens and your heart flutters nervously in your chest. You hear him pause in the entryway and you meet him halfway, clutching the large sweater to your chest.

His brows are furrowed, taking in the scene before him. The scent had hit him immediately, breath catching in his throat at the familiarity of it. Tears stung in his eye while the other one whirred in delight as he continued looking around the apartment in awe.

You’d run down to the Rainbow, praying to the Mother that Feyre was teaching one of her classes. Thankfully she was and she let you borrow the children for a few minutes, passing out paper in the colors of autumn, yellow, orange, and reds, teaching them how to fold it up and cut leaves from it.

They’d been delighted to help and you’d gathered all of the leaves up, thanking them profusely, and ran back to your apartment where you’d stuck them up to the walls, creating an autumn masterpiece.

He notes the bushel of apples on the counter and the pumpkins on the table, waiting to be carved. There’s spiced rum and the makings of cider, as well as marshmallows and chocolate and crackers near the fireplace for later. The hearth is raging but the windows are open, letting that cool fresh breeze sweep throughout the apartment, carrying the scent of spices around the space.

“I know it’s not much but…” you trail off, blushing as his eyes finally settle upon you.

“It’s everything,” he admits, pulling you into his arms. You hug him back just as tightly. You can feel the warming ache in his chest and his shuddering breath on your neck, the tear that drips from the tip of his angular nose onto your shoulder has you blinking back the mist in your own eyes.

“In that case, this is for you,” you offer, voice thick with emotion at the sight of how happy your mate is, holding up the matching sweater.

He laughs, slipping out of his shirt and you let your gaze linger on his body as he stretches the material up over his head. Your cheeks heat as he catches you but you’re not ashamed, he’s your mate and you’re allowed to look. 

You help Lucien with the sweater because you need to feel his lithe body beneath your fingers, and you’re getting distracted but he’s so beautiful you can’t help yourself.

He pulls you in close, kissing you passionately on the mouth before whispering, “Thank you (Y/N). For everything.”

You give him a soft smile in return, thrumming with warmth that you’ve helped him feel a little less homesick.

“You’re welcome Luc. So, what do you want to start with?”

#lucien vanserra x reader #lucien/reader #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azsazz #soft boy sunday #autumn

[saitla]

Okay so, this is my fancast for the males of ACOTAR. Be nice, english is not my first launguage.

Disclaimer: Some are not even actors but fit how I imagined the characters.

Tamlin, first off: I imagine Tamlin as a gentle and pretty young looking man but also brooding. This is pianist Dario Lessing, unfortunatly not a fiddleplayer.. I highly recommend his music though.

Lucian, I really don’t want to justify this. I’ll just alway try to fancast Robert Sheehan in everything. Smash.

Eris: This is Broadway dancer Niklas Palmqvist. Imagine the Eris-Nesta dance-scene (!!!)

High lord of the Autumn Court, as daddy no but secretly yes please, Domnhall Gleeson. Yes. I did. I would have cast him as Feyra, because he’s good in everything but this is more fitting I GUESS.

OFF TO THE WINTER COURT with Mr Freddie Fox as the High Lord of Winter:

Tarquin, Mr Sweet Summer, the High Lord of the Summer Court, I feel this in the warm winds of june. Michael Ward.

He who needs no others introduction HELION, STOP, NO I’M RIGHT! Regé my bebé.

The King of Highburn, Frenemie of Amarantha. He who was weighted and measured and found wanting.

The first two Batboys… this was so hard to fancast in a way that hasn’t been done to death. Don’t come for me, my opinion can’t hurt you.

AZRIEL OR CASSIAN COULD BE PLAYED BY (examples below)

Maxim?!

Or Rafi??

Or maybe Jassa Ahluwalia….?!?! (Not pictured)

RHYSAND THOUGH?????

-

Umh.

Yeah I’ve got nothing sorry babes.

#acotar #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #batboys #illyrian #feyre archeron #nesta acotar #cassian acotar #azriel #tamlin #eris acotar #high lord kallias #high lord helion #high lord beron #rhysand #fancast

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Tamlin angst part 6

@achaotichuman TW: suicide, angst, abuse Calm the fuck down, Tamlin chided himself. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Lucien was dressed in a gold and red getup fit for royalty, a little braid in his free-flowing hair, a fox mask fitted on his face, and with that scar...handsome, mysterious...and utterly forbidden. Devastating, that's what he was. Tamlin had taken many lovers, male and female, but he knew none of them would ever compare to Lucien. Just like none would compare to Jesminda for Lucien. Tamlin shoved that pain deep down. Selfish. Don't be fucking selfish. His own mask was simple compared to Lucien's: a plain gold mask; he was a shapeshifter, after all. He was whatever animal he wished to be. Lucien donned a fox mask for his reputation for being cunning. Tamlin was just glad he had that cunning on his side. "I don't like this," Lucien grumbled. "That witch is planning something." Tamlin's heart twinged at the note of fear that had crept into his voice. Your fault. All your fault. Tamlin pulled Lucien into his arms, tucking his head into his chest. "I swear, Lucien, no matter what happens, I'll protect you. I failed you once, but never again. I swear it. Amarantha can never hurt you as long as I'm here, do you understand?" "Dude, you're smothering me," Lucien grumbled, his words muffled against his chest. "Also, why is your heart beating so fast? Is it because of Amarantha? It's not too late to ditch it and declare war on Hybern, you know." Oh, Lucien, my oblivious darling, Tamlin thought. I don't give a shit about Amarantha anymore. My heart is fluttering because you're so close to me. "I'm fine," Tamlin said gruffly, gently letting Lucien go before he confessed his love for him again. "Let's get this over with." "Aye aye, Captain." Lucien gave a mock bow and salute, and Tamlin laughed. He was so charming. "Look dude, I hate her as much as you, but you really don't need to glare at her so viciously," Lucien said. He snickered. "I mean, even I'm getting a little disturbed." Tamlin stared at him incredulously. “She ripped out your eye.” Lucien shrugged nonchalantly. “Beron gave me worse,” he said, but that tremor of fear was still in his voice. All Tamlin’s fault. All of it. “I don’t care if you’ve had worse,” Tamlin snarled. “If she tries to lay one hair on your pretty little head, I will tear her to shreds.” Lucien blushed and pouted, his full heart-shaped lips jutting out. “I’m not little. You’re just huge.” He gestured to Tamlin. “I’m more of a courtier, not a warrior.” “I don’t care if you’re little or not, Lucien,” Tamlin harrumphed, irritated. So clueless. He had absolutely no idea the effect he had on him. “Well I do,” Lucien said, crossing his strong tanned arms across his toned chest. Far from little; don’t worry Lucien, Tamlin could see that. “Take it back!” Tamlin rolled his eyes before he realized what Lucien was doing. He was trying to lighten the mood, calm Tamlin down. Sneaky bastard. He grinned; he loved him so much. “You’re a very big male, Lucien.” “THAAANK you,” he said, exaggeratedly bowing in thanks. “Now try not to brood too much while I’m gone, Tam?” Tamlin was relieved that Lucien didn’t see how much Tamlin blushed at the nickname he’d just given him. But his good mood didn’t last long, for soon Amarantha came to his side. ”I hope you’re here to fucking apologize, because I’m not going to be listening to anything else,” Tamlin snapped before he met her eyes. “And I won’t hesitate to rip you to shreds.” Amarantha twiddled her hands with her fingers. “Yes, I apologize Tamlin. For what I did to you in your early years, taking advantage of your hurt.” “And?” ”I’m sorry…for losing my temper with your courtier.” “His name is Lucien,” Tamlin snapped. “Yes. I apologize for what I did to Lucien.” Tamlin let his simmering High Lord rage bear down on her. “What do you want?”

#tamlin angst #tamlin #pro tamlin #angst #tragedy #fanfic #tamcien angst #tamcien

[acourtofthought]

I’ve been thinking about E/riels’s theories about a war breaking out over who Elain is going to be with (like Sarah isn’t aiming for peace across the lands lol). And I just can’t see it happening because Lucien and Azriel simply don’t have armies to back them up.

- Helion became a High Lord basically yesterday. What’s he gonna say? “Omg you guys I know I still haven’t proved myself as a High Lord but my son I just met can’t take no for an answer so off to war we go!!!”

- Beron will enjoy Lucien’s humiliation. He’s already disowned him.

- Spring is basically dying so Tamlin is out, too.

- Jurian and Vassa may care about Lucien, but they’re not sacrificing human lives over this bs.

- Azriel has spent his life looking down his nose at the Illyrians, they will absolutely not fight so he can keep his girlfriend. Same with Kier’s Darkbringers. So he’s empty-handed, too.

Only a fight between the two of them is possible. But then what? Elain is not an inanimate object to be “won”. She made it clear in ACOSF. Not to mention that if a fight happens, even if it’s not a Blood Duel, Gwynriel dies (I know that won’t bother E/riels lol). I doubt Gwyn will want to be with a guy who fought over another woman 2 days ago. Having feelings is one thing, entering a fight to the death is another.

I think some readers are so caught up in what they want to see happen they forget what actually happened in the book.

Az wanted to kiss Elain.........on Solstice.

Az was going to get "down on his knees for Elain"........on Solstice.

Az could not admit to Rhys that he was over Mor that same night.

Az told Elain they were a mistake that same night.

Elain whispered she was sorry to Az that same night and returned his gift hours later.

Az felt calm after spending time with Gwyn that same night.

Az felt something spark in his chest over the thought of Gwyn's happiness that same night.

Az and Elain share no further interactions for months after Solstice. MONTHS.

You know what did happen in the months after?

Az AND Elain (along with the others) nearly lost Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx during the birth scene.

Elain and Az (along with the others) nearly lost Nesta in the Rite.

Az watched Cassian taken by Briallyn.

The Az and Elain forbidden romance has no legs whatsoever.

First, we have ZERO evidence that Elain even entertains a crush on Az anymore. And why should she? He ignored her for a year because he couldn't handle her bond even though she could have used a friend while she recovered from trauma and fought with Nesta. He bought her a gift then called HER a mistake then never apologized. And he continued ignoring her for months after Solstice.

Super crush worthy material right there, am I right?

Also, why would Az turn around and betray Rhys's order after Rhys nearly died? I'd think nearly losing his brother would cause Az to be on better behavior, no? And he doesn't always disobey them "The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court had faced off against the shadowsinger this after, and emerged triumphant. Perhaps triumphant wasn't the right word, but the argument had ended with AZRIEL GRUDGINGLY AGREEING NOT TO SPY ON BRIALLYN FOR THE TIME BEING -and brooding all through dinner."

Az may not have been happy about obeying orders but he obeyed orders regardless.

No one is starting a war over anyone. Lucien would walk away for good if Elain asked it of him and she would probably wash her hands of the entire lot of them if they were honestly trying to threaten the peace of the lands over her.

"I belong to no one"

"I am not a child to be fought over."

"You do not decide what I can and cannot do."

THAT is Elain Archeron and it's off-putting that anyone in the fandom would turn her into a simpering fool for the love of a male who avoided her because he's so sensitive to the smell of a bond that will always exist and who couldn't admit that he didn't just want to use her as substitute for a pleasure hall.

If she ends up with either male it's going to be because it's the right thing and not because they have to burn bridges in order to be together.

#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #anti e/riel

[separatist-apologist]

The true cherry on top would be for Aine's future mate to be a feysand kid (son or daughter tbh, she could go both ways). I just think Rhysand deserves to suffer too through the blond brood. (My personal headcanon was nyx x one of Tamlin's daughters but I will respect your wishes for him and Viviane's daughter)

Nyx is all tied up with Celine over in Winter Court

#can you blame him #she is SO PRETTY #It's friends to lovers #and we have to respect their journey