#or anything by sjm for that matter

[amaltheas-garden]

people still shocked that in the year of our lord 2024 some of us don't want to see Dany get her 'happy ending' by becoming the white savior who was promised

[bookishfeylin]

I've been thinking that the reason the ACOTAR fandom is so toxic is because Mrs. Maas applied real world standards to a fantasy series, creating a conundrum where some characters are allowed to exist in and operate within a fantasy-based morality (like Rhysand, the Inner Circle, and Feyre) whilst others are held up to a stricter, real-world morality and are vehemently critiqued in text for failing to meet the moral standards of our world (Tamlin, Nesta, even Lucien), leaving fans of the latter group of characters to call out the hypocrisy in text for their characters being evaluated by standards that the former aren't held to whilst fans of the former set of characters happily indulge in such hypocritical writing even while promoting this series as an excellent example of handling of real-world themes like abuse; but now I think it's more than that.

Feyre has all the powers--she can shapeshift AND read minds AND control all the elements AND control light AND shadow. Everyone loves her, men of all races want to have sex with her, she can fetishize men of color and have mixed children and participate in cultural appropriation without consequence; she can brutalize men of color and look down on and belittle the appearance of women of color whenever she wants with impunity, because she is the eternal victim. She can do no wrong; people can only wrong her. She can never hurt anyone; people can only hurt her. Feyre is all powerful, but she's an eternal victim--she's a white woman's power fantasy. That's why this series reeks of white feminism so badly. Feyre is a white woman's power fantasy.

But some white women, and many women of color, don't identify with that power fantasy--especially Feyre's "being able to oppress others with impunity" schtick--so they reach out for other characters instead. But because Feyre is the eternal victim, because Feyre is the embodiment of white womenhood, that means many of the other characters are written as Feyre's oppressors or antagonists, and the white women who identify with Feyre hate them, because how dare those characters and their stans ruin their power fantasy? How dare those characters impede Feyre, their self-insert, from being the embodiment of idealized white womanhood?

So those characters, and those who stan them, are resented. In this essay, I will--

[myfictionaldreams]

request: nyx x female reader where they’re matted but don’t know it and reader visits him at the illyrian camps and she gets hurt and nyx loses it

Don't Touch // Adult!Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even thank you enough, anon, for this request! I've been desperate to write something like this (especially including my sweet love Nyx; I have an entire headcanon/long-form story of him already, oops). Thank you for requesting! To you or anything else, please request more SJM fics, I am adoring writing them.

Warning: there is a description of visibly seeing the colour of bruising on the skin. Also, intense emotions and responses to situations due to the mating bond.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, minor injuries, possessive behaviour/sex, obsessive behaviour, over-the-top reaction (or just right depends how you like your partners), threats of violence, aggression, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, size kink, intense emotions/sex, sex until passing out :)

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"I've never seen you like this before, Mor" You observe your friend closely as the beautiful blonde woman checks her reflection in the glass of a passing shop.

Morrigan paused, where she was currently trying to perfect her already stunning hair. Trying not to baulk from the intense, fiery stare that turned your way as she raised a single well-groomed eyebrow and attempted to sound as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you're referring to. I'm acting completely and utterly sane".

Linking an arm with your friend, you both continued to walk as you sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, of course. Except that was the tenth time you've stopped to stare at your reflection and tried to fix your already pristine hair, Morrigan".

Mor rolled her brown eyes playfully, moving closer as a brisk wind brushed over the two of you. "You already know I'm vain; why is it such an issue if I want to stare at myself?" she asked, leading in the direction the two of you were walking.

"I didn't say there was an issue. I'm just pointing out that we're heading towards a certain someone's shop, and she's going to love how you look no matter what". Mor hid her face for once, but you could still see the rosy colour deepening in her cheeks.

She quickly recovered by lifting her head and flicking the blonde strands behind her shoulders. "You're one to talk. I've seen you searching over your shoulder 50 times now. Wouldn't it be because of a certain family member of mine, would it?"

There was no hiding the grin that spread across your face as your pulse quickened ever so slightly. "Nyx doesn't even know that I'm in Windhaven. I might not even see him; I'm not here for him."

"Who says I was talking about Nyx? I'm pretty sure Feyre and Rhys are here too", she laughs as you shove your shoulder into hers playfully. As you both calm down, Mor's expression turns more serious. She glances at you, "I'm surprised he hasn't sensed you're here yet. I also don't necessarily think he'll welcome you with open arms; he's attempted to shield you from this side of his life. As hard as we are trying to change the cultures and traditions of the Illyrians, most of them are still unpleasant to be around, especially if you happen to be a female, wings or not."

"You didn't have to bring me here, you know".

"Yes, well, don't make me regret it. Stay nice and close to me, and anyway", Mor paused as she paused outside Emeries shop. "I needed an excuse to come here", she admitted with as much sheepishness as Morrigan would ever allow another person to see.

You couldn't help but grin as you squealed, "Ha! I knew it!"

The bell dinged above the shop door as you followed the blonde through the door. The answer, welcomed by Emerie by the counter, "There you both are! Welcome to Windhaven, stay away from the males, and please have a lovely time", she beams, walking around the counter towards Mor.

Glancing around to give both women a private moment, you admired her shop and eyed some of the winter clothing that would be perfect for the cold weather approaching Velaris in a few months. As you ran your fingers over the lining of a beautiful coat and casually suggested over your shoulder, "If you want, I can watch the shop if you two happen to find your way upstairs. Didn't you say you have some new socks in the back room?"

"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder!" Emerie played with your antics and took Mor's hand, dragging her into the back. Smiling at seeing their happiness, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man whom you'd been searching for from the second of landing in Windhaven.

You and Nyx had been friends since childhood. You'd spotted a young boy flying over the Sidra, mesmerised by the freeness of his movements, not watching where you were walking, tripped and scratched your knee on the pavement. Having watched it all from the sky, Nyx landed beside you and helped you home. He hadn't laughed like the other children; he'd shown compassion and kindness.

The son of the High Lord and Lady quickly became one of your closest friends, spending every waking hour possible together when you weren't in lessons or he was in training. Along the way, lines became blurred, and you were infatuated with one another. The relationship was intense, to say the least, and the two of you often joked about being mates, but no sign of the bond had occurred yet.

Not that this mattered to you. You were thoroughly and obsessively in love with Nyx, and he was with you. In fact, his obsession and possessive behaviour were renowned throughout Velaris. Every occupant knew that you were Nyx's; if a single hair on your head was out of place, he would bring all of the power of the Night Court down on them. It was extreme at first, but in truth, you were not much of a fighter, so being able to walk around Velaris with the reputation of belonging to Nyx was a relief.

Now, however, it had been weeks since you saw him as he'd been training with the other Illyrians, and even though he used his daemati skills to talk mind to mind with you or he left intimate little notes throughout your home, it couldn't ease the ache in your chest. So when Mor mentioned visiting Emerie's shop in Windhaven, you jumped at the opportunity to see, hoping you'd run into him, even if he didn't want you near the camps.

Lost in your thoughts of black hair and vibrant blue eyes, you'd not noticed that someone had entered the shop until a male growled from behind you, "Where is she?"

Jumping and turning on the spot, you looked the Illyrian over from the golden-brown skin covered in the darkest black tattoos that stretched up his neck and over the sides of his shaved head, leaving a tuft of hair down the centre. His membranous wings were widely spread as he stood in a defensive stance, fists tightly clenched at his side and armour creased from lack of care.

"Who?" you asked innocently, facing him fully and trying not to let his anger intimidate you even though you could already smell the sourness of your anxiety and fear in the air. The stranger walks forward, the tips of his wings knocking into a collection of hats, all toppled to the floor. "Watch where you're walking!"

The male stops a step away, tilting his head and frowning with even more vigour, "What did you just say to me?" As he took another step forward, you matched his step with one backwards until you were pressed against the wall with him towering over you.

"Just - Just watch it, ok? You're knocking over the display" You pointed to the knocked-over items, but he didn't take his eyes off of you, searching over your body until your skin crawled with discomfort.

"Wherever that thief is, give her this", he shoves the letter that had been screwed up in his meaty hands into your chest. You gasp out loud at the pain that rips through your shoulder, knowing it is going to bruise, and you have to look away to hide the tears that had formed as you grasp the letter and watch him leave.

It was only as the bell rang as the male exited that Emerie and Mor rushed into the room with a dagger in hand as they rushed to your side. If it wasn't for the shock and pain in your shoulder, you would have commented and jested how they both looked flustered with dishevelled hair and swollen lips, but this was the last thing on your mind now.

"Who was just here? Why do you smell of fear?" Mor asked as she rested a hand on your arm, looking at you furiously with concern.

"I don't know his name, but he gave me this for you, Emerie." You held out the letter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as she accepted it with a roll of her eyes.

"His name is Prumlos. He works closely with my uncle, and they believe they have rights to my shop. No matter how often I tell them, they keep coming back. Unlucky for me, he trains here in Windhaven and often brings new threatening letters from my extended family. He's a really brute", she pauses as she eyes you closely, "are you ok? Did he harm you in any way?"

Swallowing the thick lump formed in your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, not wishing to seem weak in front of these two strong females. Maybe you'd been sheltered too much throughout your life, but you didn't want to be emotionally broken just because one arrogant male was rude to you, even if your shoulder throbbed terribly.

"He just gave me the letter", you managed to spit out, not looking either female in the eye.

"Bullshit. I can still smell your fear; what did he do?" Mor demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing! I mean, he was just an arrogant male and just wanted to scare me. I'm fine, really. But could we go, please? Sorry, I know we've only just arrived. Maybe I can wait for you in the High Lord's mother's home, Mor? I just need to be shown the way". You held your breath, waiting for Mor to answer, hoping she didn't try to question you further, but thankfully, she agreed.

"I'm sorry you've been shaken up; I hope it hasn't deterred you from coming to visit me every so often," Emerie smiled gently while holding your hand.

Thanking her, you and Mor left the store and began walking down the street. "Are you sure you're ok? I can see you're still shaken up; talk to me, Little star", Mor asks a couple of silent minutes later and hearing the nickname the inner circle had named you from a child finally brought a smile to your face.

But then Mor tried to link her arm through yours, and you couldn't help but flinch as the movement caused the pain in your shoulder to worsen. Mor noticed and stopped abruptly, turning you towards her, "He did hurt you, didn't he? Tell me so I can go and deal with him".

"No! Please, Mor, can we just go? You know I hate violence".

"Do you want me to go and find Nyx?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No!" you say urgently, looking up at her with wide eyes, "Please don't, you know how he'd react. I just want to go to Rhys' mother's home and forget about the day. I'll speak to Nyx another time".

With great reluctance, Mor nods, and the two of you continue the walk back to the home. Once inside and next to the fire, you could finally stop and relax, especially as Mor offered you a hefty glass of wine to help your nerves.

After half an hour of sipping away at the absurdly expensive win, shoes off and feet tucked beneath you, Mor suddenly sat up further in her seat with a smile, informing you, "You're about to be a very happy female".

You're confused by her statement, but then you feel it: the connection in your heart is strengthening, like the missing piece to you was suddenly warming and filling in. The front door opened, and Feyre and Rhys walked in first, followed by Cassian and Nyx.

You're half aware of Cassian's joyful greeting: "Ah, Little star! You've finally come to join the camps. We'll have you trained in no time".

You stand quickly, eyes only on Nyx as he stands in the doorway, not breathing as he stares only at you. One second, you're near the table, and the next, you're running full speed towards him, sliding across the wooden floor with your socks, not that you care as you're suddenly in his arms.

The pain had diminished the second you were reunited with him. All you cared about was breathing him in, the relaxing scents of spice and lavender, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, keeping you up off of your feet that had tucked around his hips. Your fingers clenched into curling hair at the nape of his neck, not caring that it was sweaty from where he'd been training. He could be covered in mud, and you would have jumped into his arms with as much enthusiasm.

The others in the room pretended to look busy as he continued to hold you, his face moving into the nape of his neck, and he took a deep breath, breathing in your scents. Nyx's voice was like dark silk, wrapping around you entirely as he said, "I knew you were here. I mean, I thought I was losing my mind; an hour ago, the tightness in my chest eased".

You couldn't help but giggle, kissing his cheek, "That was me; I arrived about an hour ago". Pulling back in his arms, the back of your fingers caressed against his cheek, admiring the light stubble that had grown since you'd last seen him. "I like this", you admire.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his thumbs stroking circles from where he still held up your body.

"I came to see my best friend, of course", you claimed, watching his handsome features as his smile grew to a grin, the dimple in his cheek deepening beneath your thumb. "Yes, I came to see my best friend Emerie", you joked as Nyx rolled his crystal blue eyes before moving his face back to nuzzle against your jaw.

"I've missed you", he mumbles, not caring that you both had an audience and your heart clenched tighter at the need in his voice.

"I've missed you too, more than you could ever know".

"If you two aren't mates, I'll eat my trousers", Cassian quips sarcastically over the rim of his glass of wine. Mor slaps his arm for interrupting as you're lowered back to the floor by Nyx, but you still lean on the tip of your toes, pushing your chest against his to remain close.

Admiring the passionate way Nyx is searching your face, you turn to grin as Cass is over your shoulder when the sudden deathly shift in the air has you freezing. The faelights casting a golden glow across the house dimmed as the room became cold, the fire extinguishing in a single breath.

Your head spins as you turn back to Nyx, who is staring at the opening of your shirt beneath your neck.

"What's that mark?" Nyx asked, his voice a terrifying tone you'd only heard on a handful of occasions. Instinctively, you were stepping back, but his gentle hand grabbed yours, keeping you close. You can sense his family moving closer, and Nyx doesn't wait for you to answer his question. He carefully releases your hand and pushes aside the material of your blouse until your shoulder is exposed.

Glancing down, you could see now that where Prumlos had shoved the letter into your shoulder earlier had now formed a deep purple bruise. Nyx leans forward, sniffs your skin, and his spine instantly stiffens.

"Who did that to you?" he asks, voice thick with venom and anger.

You're unable to give him an answer as Mor is suddenly by your side, holding open your shirt to stare at the injury as she gasps, "I asked if he hurt you!"

"He?!" Nyx growls, looking between Mor and you.

Attempting to take a step away from both of them, you try and calm the energy, sensing it is escalating to a level that could not be returned from. It wasn't that Nyx was scaring you; it was quite the opposite, as his protection made you feel safe; you were just frightened that he would do something he couldn't undo and start a war within the camps.

"I'm fine; it doesn't even hurt anymore" you tried to reason, but that only made Nyx breathe heavily out of his nose as he turned to Mor.

"Who did this? Give me his name. Tell me right now, Morrigan!"

Thankfully, Mor didn't answer immediately and glanced at you from the corner of your eye, knowing that you didn't want to cause a fuss, so she didn't respond immediately, which only frustrated Nyx more in his crusade for revenge. "This is why you shouldn't have bought her here! I told you on multiple occasions that it wasn't safe!"

"Nyx, you need to take a breath; maybe you and your father should go outside and release some of that energy" Feyre tried to reason with him, stepping closer, but it was useless; Nyx was like a boiling pot of deathly anger. Shadows pulsed and darkened around him, travelling up the length of his muscular arms and around his neck. Rhys and Cassian finally began to step forward, moving into a warrior stance between Mor, Feyre and Nyx, even attempting to urge you behind them, but there was no way you were being forced away from Nyx.

Stepping toe to toe with him, your fingers moved back to cradling his face, forcing his now icey eyes onto you, and for a fraction of a second, he seemed calmer. "Nyx, please listen to me, I'm fine. Everything is ok, it was just-"

You were unable to finish your sentence because his knees buckled, and he audibly gulped down air as all signs of anger and pain disappeared from his eyes and tears lined the edges. "Nyx?"

"Mate", he whispers in awe, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms come around your waist, holding you delicately.

You could feel it, too, like an elastic band was tied around your heart, strengthening with each passing second. "I can feel it too"," you confirmed with glee, tears beginning to fill your eyes with the sudden realisation of what was happening. You and Nyx were mates. The Cauldron had blessed you both; even after waiting what felt like a lifeline for the bond to confirm itself, you both knew it had only been a matter of time. The relief was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Finally!" Cassian cheered, loosening his warrior stance to return to his glass of wine, raising it towards where you and Nyx stood in the entryway. "Welcome to the family, Little Star!"

You grin up tearfully towards Nyx, who in turn returns the joy, but that all disappears as the anger and rage return full force as he growls, "Someone hurt my mate". Moving away from you, he faces Mor and demands, "Tell me his name, Mor, I know you know it. Don't make me find it out".

Morrigan shifts, rolling her shoulders back as she looks down at Nyx, which is an incredible feat considering the fact that he is considerably taller than her. "Are you threatening me, Nyx??

"He hurt my mate!" he bellows at her, but she doesn't so much as flinch as she shifts her gaze to you, looking like she's contemplating a hundred thoughts at once. Then, without looking away, she confirms the man's name.

"Prumlos".

Nyx vanishes before you have time to stop him, and seconds pass before the ground trembles and shakes the home's foundation. 

"No! I didn't want violence! Why did you tell him, Mor?!" you gawped at the blond, who didn't look remotely sorry.

As Rhysand grabs Cassian and winnows away, Mor steps closer with Feyre at her side. "I told him because we protect our own. Not only has he hurt you, but he's also threatening Emerie; he deserves what's coming to him. In fact, I shouldn't have faltered with telling Nyx, that is my only regret".

You feel defeated and stare at your feet with a thousand thoughts dizzying your mind. Was Nyx ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back? He was your mate. Nyx was YOUR mate.

A pair of brown leather boots entered your vision as Feyre stepped close, wrapping an arm carefully over your not-injured shoulder as she directed you towards the table, kissing your cheek as she moved, "Welcome to the family, properly that is. You've always been one of us, Little Star. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we have any healing ointments remaining in the cupboards".

Thankfully, Feyre had found a purple ointment that had already worked enough that the pain in your shoulder was considerably less, and the colour of the bruising was now a subtle yellow. Nibbling nervously on the corner of your thumb as you awaited your mate's return, it finally dawned on you. "Wait, how am I supposed to do this? Aren't mates supposed to have a ceremony or something?"

"There can be a ceremony where you offer Nyx some food; we can organise it once we return to Velaris if you'd like? Or if you'd rather not wait, you could offer him food whenever you'd like", Feyre explained warmly with a gentle smile that matched Nyx's.

"I don't think I want to wait. We've all known we would be mates, and waiting for this bond has been slow, so I don't want to wait to accept his bond.

"Why don't you go and have a look in the kitchen? There might be something here", Mor encouraged with a nod towards the back of the house.

You scoured the kitchen cupboards for any sort of food, but with the house having not been in proper use for years, there was nothing except some stale bread on the kitchen table with suspicious-looking green mould on the edges. Even after ripping away the discoloured sections of the bread, you still eyed it with uncertainty.

Stepping out of the kitchen and returning to the dining area, you were surprised to find that Mor and Feyre had gone, and Nyx now stood calmly in the centre of the room, his eyes watching your every breath.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask, trying to fill the thick tension with some noise.

Nyx smiled, not enough to show his dimple but enough to have your shoulders dropping with ease as he stated, "I don't care where they've gone, as long as you remain". Those blazing eyes lowered to your hands as he sucked in a powerful breath as he looked at the stale bread that you were still holding.

As he took several steps forward, you couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to him?"

"What he deserved". There wasn't a speck of blood on his leathery uniform. "What are you doing with that bread?" he asked in a low voice.

You're unsure why you're so nervous when you answer, "Oh, um. It was meant to be for you. I can't find anything else for the mating bond, but it's stale and has mould over it. Maybe I can find a little shop here to find some proper food and serve that to you- NYX!"

Closing the gap between you, he takes the bread out of your hands and, without taking his eyes off of yours, begins to chew the bread that was so clearly dry and stale as he chewed for considerably longer than he should have.

As he finally swallows, you're reaching up for him, resting your hands on his chest and feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palms. "You're my mate", you breathe in awe, forgetting everything that had happened that day and only focusing on the man before you.

"I am. I'm yours, and you're mine", he states with as much wonderment as you felt in your soul.

Grinning up at him, you remind him, "Forever. You're mine forever". The tension beneath your fingers eases as he takes a steadying breath, and then his eyes lower to the edges of your blouse.

You watch with bated breath as he checks the mostly healed bruise. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier".

"Nyx, you could never frighten me, " you reassure and tip a finger beneath his chin so that he has to look at your face, not the injury.

"I've always wanted to keep you safe. Seeing that bruise on you today, I was ready to destroy the world to find out who harmed you".

"I know". You watch as he nuzzles into your palm, kissing the centre as you try to lighten the mood, "You're very intense, you know that, right" you say with a light laugh.

Nyx grins, that precious dimple capturing your attention. "I'm more than intense; I'm obsessed. I've been obsessed for years, and now, there's no escaping me" he chuckles as his hand cups around the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, your arms and legs wrapping around his firm body.

"I thought it was just me with the obsession", you retort whilst curling your fingers into his hair once more. Leaning your forehead against him, you both just breathe the other in, eyes closed and hearing the hearts beating as one.

"There hasn't been a second since you entered my life where I haven't wanted you to be by my side. I think I always knew, even when we were children. And now, you're mine".

"Officially", you joke with a giggle, squeezing your arms and legs more firmly around him.

"Officially, my mate", he agrees and then sighs, balancing your weight on one arm so that he could move aside your blouse and kiss the lightening bruise. "I don't want you to come back here again if you can help it. I don't trust these males".

"That's fine with me. I don't particularly want to return, no matter how lovely Emerie's shop is. I don't know how you can stand to be here, let alone train with them", you agreed wholeheartedly.

"You deserve to be in nice and happy places like Velaris, and I can deal with dreadful places like this. It's in my blood, after all". Nyx took a moment to admire your beauty before he stepped forward and winnowed the two of you into his bedroom in the River House in Velaris. "Finally back where we both belong. Now, you're wearing too many clothing articles".

"Wait, don't you have training?" you ask in confusion.

"Not anymore. They'll have to come here and fight me to drag me back to that shit hole tonight. I have other plans now anyway". As he finished talking, he gently eased you onto the navy silk sheets of his bed, resting his arm next to your head as he looked down at you.

You giggle as his hair falls into his face. Reaching up, you pushed the dark curls back to see him grinning at you with just as much glee. "Mmm, I love that sound", he admires before lowering his face to the junction of your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive area, causing a shiver to burst over your skin.

"What sound?" you ask in a daze.

"You laughing. Your happiness. It's the best sound in the world", he groans as his lips travel up the slope of your neck before teasing your earlobe.

"You're being extra soppy today, Nyx", you say halfheartedly, secretly loving how open he was with his emotions.

However, the man above you freezes, his mouth next to your ear as he asks, "Say that again".

You know exactly which word he wanted you to repeat as you sigh happily, close your eyes and say, "Nyx".

He moans deeply, his hips rutting into the bed with a thrust as a shiver shakes his large frame. "Again," he asks as he lowers his hands to palm your breasts through your blouse.

It was your turn to sigh before whispering, "Nyx".

He lowers his body, kissing down your sternum as he unbuttons the material, exposing your bra and soft skin to him. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, subtly scratching against his scalp as he doesn't stop on his journey lower. Next, he removes your jeans and socks until all that remains is your underwear.

He appeared to be a man possessed as he stared at you beneath him, biting your lip in need. With an easy snap of his fingers, he tore through the centre of your bra and pushed the useless straps off of your shoulders and down your arms and then repeated the tearing with your underwear.

Nyx utterly admired every inch of your body, his eyes full of emotions and desires. He seemed conflicted, though, unsure whether to spend his sweet time kissing and tasting every inch of your body. Still, as you spread your legs and directed him where you truly wanted him, he growled lowly, lowering his body until he kneeled next to the bed, arms wrapped around your thighs and feasted between your legs.

"Nyx!" you cried out, eyes closing and back arching from the stimulation.

The two of you had been intimate for years, both losing your virginities together and exploring each other's bodies; you knew one another better than yourselves. Nyx liked to show this off as he perfectly flicked his tongue and held you firmly with his hands; you were begging in a matter of seconds. The man bringing you closer and closer to the edge chuckled as he felt you tremble with restraint, knowing he was only doing enough to keep you on the very brink, loving the desperate little cries you released until it was all too much, and you cried out, "Please! Nyx!"

Sucking on your clit was all that he needed to do to have you spiralling into euphoric bliss. Your thighs trembled as they squeezed around his head, but he would happily be suffocated between your legs, so let the warmth of the press into his cheeks until you'd calmed down enough to relax the muscles.

Breathlessly, you looked down your body to where he was grinning, kissing the top of your pubis before licking his shiny lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes". The armour he was wearing vanished in a flicker of magic. Sitting up on the bed, your hands wound around his toned shoulders,  feeling the muscle ripple and move beneath as you tugged him closer and kissed him with all the desperation you could muster.

Both of you were moving with such urgency that your emotions were overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out the words, "Mine!" repeatedly. You'd heard of the frenzy after a mating bond is accepted, but you never anticipated it to feel this chaotic. You needed every single inch of him, wanted to taste his body, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the moans from between his lips. There was too much to do, and your brain was engulfed with the need to do everything simultaneously.

Gripping onto his arms, you pulled Nyx so that he was now the one lying in the centre of the bed as you moved to straddle over his waist. With your lips still desperately moving together, tongue caressing and deepening into each other's mouths, your hands finally grasped around the thick, veiny length of your mate.

During any other intimate moment, you would have admired the sheer size of him or the beautiful sensation of him throbbing between your fingers, but right now, all you were desperate to do was give him pleasure.

Squeezing your fingers more firmly around the shaft, you moved up and down, using your thumb to smear the precum over the head. He shivered at the touch, his abs tightening and flexing as he groaned in pleasure.

"Need to be inside of you", he pleaded against your lips. You didn't need to tell twice as you roused high on your knees and direct the tip of his cock towards your drenched hole. You only gave yourself a second to adjust to the sheer size of him before you were rotating your hips and beginning to rock back and forth with increasing speed.

Nyx's arms wrapped around your spine, reaching to grasp onto the back of your shoulder so he had a good foundation to hold and fuck his hips up in time to meet yours. The firmness of his strokes had you seeing stars with how deep he felt. You were utterly consumed by Nyx.

The two of you were fucking each other with such a bruising pace that all you could do was dig your nails into his chest and ride him like your life depended on it. It was only a matter of minutes until you were coming, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock until he, too, was tipping his head back and grunting your name with his own pleasure.

You all but collapsed on top of his chest, greedily sucking in air that smelled entirely of him, and you couldn't get enough. It seemed he couldn't for you either as you continued to feel his hardness within you, not softening even after his orgasm.

Before long, with your face still plastered to his sweaty chest, your hips began to roll, his cock nudging deep inside of you.

"I can't fucking get enough of you", you gasp as he throbbed within you.

Nyx rolled the two of you over, so now he was on top, your legs repositioned so that they were against his shoulders, and you were all but bent in half, the angle meaning he could fuck even deeper.

"Yes! Nyx, please don't stop!" you scream, reaching over his shoulders and stroking the sensitive membrane of his wings, watching them flare behind his back.

"Say it", he begs, his eyes glazed whilst looking down at you.

"Nyx!"

"Yes! Say you're mine!"

"I'm yours!" Nyx moves harder, his hand slipping down your legs until his thumb could circle your clit.

"That's right", he grunts between thrusts, "And I'm yours. Forever".

You orgasm so hard you're sure you black out for a couple of seconds because, in the next breath, Nyx is beside you, spooning himself around you, kissing along your collarbones and stroking his palm down your stomach.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" he asks with a rough voice.

You smile softly whilst reaching up to scratch your nails behind his ear, tucking the curls behind his pointed ears, careful not to snag the strands on the multiple silver hoops in his ear. "Not at all, I loved every second".

Nyx grinned, and the starlight that usually glowed in his eyes returned for the first time that day, and he was finally at ease.

"I can't believe you ate that stale bread", you say, laughing at the memory.

"I would have eaten the mould too if you'd given it to me. Whatever food you gave me, I would have accepted it with need in my heart". Those perfect lips of his began to kiss across your cheek and down your throat; however, now that the madness of needing to have sex with him had calmed for a moment, you could actually look him over properly, and that's when you noticed the doting of bruises over his arms and chest, all in different stages of healing.

You tense and ask urgently, "Were these from him? Earlier in the day, I mean?"

Nyx moves away from kissing your throat to look at what you're referring to, shaking his head and casually explaining, "No, they're from training. That asshole didn't have time to make a move against me before I-". You'd lost the ability to hear anything further as a fire burned so thoroughly throughout your soul that it momentarily stole your breath. Red burning anger pulsed in your soul, unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

Before a coherent thought could drift through your mind, you're pushing away from Nyx and climbing out of bed on unsteady legs. Needing to half crawl on the floor before righting your posture, you marched towards his bedroom door.

"Woah, Little Star", Nyx is suddenly in front of you, blocking your exit as he holds his hands up.

You try and push past him, but he just carefully eases you away from the door, "Let me past!" you shout in frustration, trying to wiggle past him.

"I don't think so", he responds gently and calmly.

"Nyx, let me out of this house!" You don't get far through as he moves to press your body against the wooden door.

"And what exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Baring your teeth at him over your shoulder, you continued trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill everyone who harmed you!"

"Oh really?" Nnyx says lightheartedly and with a slight chortle. "You'll kill them? Miss' I despise violence'?"

You turn around so that you're chest to chest with Nyx, looking up at his with eyes so full of fury he actually bulked and softened his laughter. "Whoever hurt you doesn't deserve to live! They hurt you. My mate. MY MATE. They won't live to see the night!"

Nyx wasn't sure how to calm you down, having never seen you with such anger pulsing through your veins before, but he did what he thought was best: distract you. His fingers clutched desperately into your hair as his mouth pressed against yours firmly enough to cause bruises.

You fight and push against him at first, but then thoughts of anger and pain dissolve into lust and need as you're once more desperately grabbing him. Tearing your mouth away, you kiss down his throat, tasting the salty spice of his natural scent.

"These feelings, they will pass", Nyx reassures as he closes his eyes, thoughts entirely on your mouth as you close your lips around his nipple, biting the sensitive bud.

"So you get to have revenge on someone that wrong me, but I don't get to do the same for you?" you ask whilst looking up at him through your lashes, your nails scratching down his abs before grabbing his once more hardening cock.

He releases another long breath, trying to keep his composure as he thrusts into your palm. "I'm saying that I've had a lifetime of training, and taking care of one pathetic asshole was light work. The mating bond is the intense anger you're feeling, protecting my pride. Everything is so new and fresh, but it will pass Little Star. You'll understand that these bruises were all part of my training in a couple of hours. Everyone has similar marks, making the training brutal and volatile. So this feeling, it will pass. Anyway, you are not leaving this room naked with my cum still dripping down my thighs".

You're finally beginning to relax as your harsh touches soften until you're gently cupping his shaft and looking up at him sheepishly, "I thought you would have liked it if everyone got to see who I belonged to?"

Turning on the spot, you rested your hot cheek against the cool wood of the door and began to grind your arse against his cock, "Mmm, don't tempt me", he growls against the side of your face as he moves closer, bending his knees so he could position his cock into your cunt.

Nyx proceeds to fuck you so hard against the door that it begins to crack down the centre. But neither of you stopped for hours. Not until you were both thoroughly exhausted that neither could stand.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips as you teeter on unconsciousness's edge.

"I love you too", you tiredly say back, eyes drooping, and the darkness of sleep welcomed you into its abyss.

[lifeisabiscuit]

The amount of people excusing what Rhysand did to Feyre utm and saying he didn't SA her or just touching someone isn't SA, is alarming.

So would these people be okay with some dude drugging their drink and feeling them up in a club while forcing them to dance with them? Or is it just okay if the guy is hot? That's very concerning.

Someone groping you or touching you without your consent is SA. It doesn't matter if they don't touch your private areas, it's still assault. Someone drugging you is a crime. Feyre didn't deserve that and I hope people know that if that happens to them its not okay and it's not their fault.

Also, Rhysand did not need to force a kiss on Feyre. He snapped his fingers and got rid of the paint on Tamlin, he could have done the same to Feyre. He admits he only did that cause he was mad at Tamlin. And the only reason Feyre was at the parties practically naked was because he forced her to come. He could have just visited her in her cell. Amarantha was more suspicious that he was bringing her out. Feyre did not enjoy anything Rhysand did to her utm. She saw it for what it was until SJM retconned the whole thing in maf and all of a sudden it was okay because he explained (never apologized).

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Six

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. More angst, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader, a little bit of Cassian x Reader

Summary: You go to Rita's with the IC and try to make Az jealous.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

Mor picked out a dark violet shirt that cut low to your chest and tight to your waist, with black pants that flare at the bottom. You paired with sensible black boots because you refused to wear the heels she offered.

Still, you had to admit that Mor had exquisite taste when it came to clothing. And you looked good.

You let half your hair down, soft curls falling from whatever Mor put in your hair earlier, and the other half was braided back.

If Azriel didn’t talk to you after tonight, you would be okay with not speaking with him either. No matter the almost constant tug to gain his attention when he was around you. Or your shadows whispering “Go to Him” every single time he was in the House.

You didn’t want to go to him. He didn’t want anything to do with you. So you would go out with your friends, and Azriel, tonight and then settle on what to do about your internal feelings after that. After you got very very drunk. Especially if you would have to deal with hateful Illyrians for the next two weeks. The only one you liked being Cassian, who was probably the complete opposite of hateful. He would probably be preoccupied with said hateful Illyrians.

Since you didn’t want to risk your outfit or hair getting ruined by the wind, you flew Mor up past the wards of the House and let her winnow you both to Rita’s. You could hear the music playing as you waited for the rest of them to get here. Mor tugged you inside before they arrived.

“Cassian mentioned what you said about Azriel to him.” She said as she made her way over to a booth in the corner.

“You should know, he often doesn’t warm up to those he doesn’t know… even more so than before.” She said. “So if he doesn’t speak to you, that might be why.”

“You know, it doesn’t bother me.” It definitely did. “And I couldn’t care less if he warms up to me or not.” You could. You could care a LOT less. “I’d just like some basic decency.” That was true.

“Just give him more of a chance. And you’ll see…” she trailed off before noticing the rest of her family entering through the doors.

“You don’t even have drinks yet?” Cassian grumbled and made his way over to the bar, pulling Azriel with him to get the table drinks.

“I’d say we’re evenly fit this evening. Three males and three females. Who gets to dance with Amren?” Mor joked as the two winged males came back with drinks.

“You’d all be lucky to dance with me.” She said and took the one cup that wasn’t made of glass. You could smell the blood from the other side of the table. Rhys mentioned that the owner tended to have Amren’s favorite ‘meal’ most times that they came.

Averting your eyes, you took a glass from Cassian and looked towards where some of the other patrons were dancing. “Do no other Illyrians live here?” You asked and turned towards the table. “We’re the only three with wings.” I said.

“It’s still a secret to everyone, even the Illyrians. They all think we live in the palace in Hewn City.” Rhys said. “And the Court of Nightmares doesn’t care where we go when we aren’t in the palace.” He said and smiled a bit.

“Right, I suppose that makes sense.” You said and sipped on your drink, smiling when the table erupted in conversation. Eventually, Mor pulled you up to dance and you laughed. You weren’t much of a dancer, and you certainly knew that you looked ridiculous. But you were here to have fun tonight. So, wings tucked in, and shadows swirling around you as you swayed, that’s what you did. Mor and you made your way further into the crowd, finding your own companions to dance with. Cassian eventually joined in and stole both of you away to dance, and also gave you more drinks.

All the while, Azriel was sulking in the booth, watching the two females he couldn’t express his feelings to have a good time. With his brother. Rhys got up and grabbed Azriel by the elbow. “You don’t get to brood. Come on, we’re all having fun tonight. Even Amren’s dancing.” He said and pulled Azriel out of the booth.

“I’m not brooding,” Azriel mumbled, his eyes drifting over to you as you danced beside Cassian. “I’m just not in the mood to dance.” He said.

“Because you’ve got an itch that you refuse to scratch?” Rhys teased and nudged him towards the dance floor. “Talk to her. Or someone. Just don’t bring our mood down… if you don’t say something soon, she might go home with someone else.” He said before he waved a hand, joined the others, and grabbed Mor’s hand to twirl her around.

Cassian slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned down. “You want to make the other Shadowsinger jealous?” He murmured in your ear. You turned towards him. If anyone outside the Inner Circle would look at you, they’d think you were together.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked and trailed your fingers slowly up his arm, resting it on his shoulder.

“Hmm… can I trust you to follow my lead?” He asked and glanced over to the band, nodding his head. Like they knew exactly what he was planning.

“I suppose…” You said with a small smirk.

And just like that, Cassian had his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. He had a good few inches on you, just a few short of a foot. The way his hands roamed your body made you second guessing if he was actually trying to make Azriel jealous, or was just trying to seduce you. You liked Cassian, but he was much more of a big brother type than anything else.

Still, you swayed your body to the music, hands going over his biceps, shoulders, and up to his hair. You made sure you kept on a sultry smirk, and looked him dead in the eyes. It was a mischievous look to him, but to anyone else it would look like lust. To the other Shadowsinger, hopefully.

And you kept at it, messing with each other all night as you downed drink after drink. Eventually, you leaned against Cassian, more because you couldn’t exactly stand upright than because you were trying to be close to him.

You’d gotten so caught up in your scheme you didn’t see Azriel storm off about an hour earlier. He most certainly did not have a good time tonight watching you practically mount his brother. The one that every woman he liked chose over him. 

Of course, you also didn’t notice he was gone. While you stumbled your way up the town home walkway into the home itself with Cass, Rhys, and Mor, it was the latter who brought up the brooding male.

“Where’s Az?” She said and looked over her shoulder.

“Left a while ago.” Rhys merely drawled as he stumbled in the house, then winnowed up to his own bedroom.

“Of course.” You mumbled as Cassian let you go so you could crash on the couch. “I don’t think our plan worked.” You said, taking a glass of water that appeared on the table.

“Plan? You two weren’t trying to grope each other all night because you wanted in the other’s pants?” Mor asked, slumping against the chair.

“No. Azriel doesn’t want to talk to me so I wanted to show him what he was missing.” You said, leaning your head back on the arm of the couch. 

“I think we did too good of a job… Az might get a little jealous, but I should’ve remembered that when it comes to me… it tends to dig deeper.” Cassian said and looked at Mor.

“If he’s here in the morning, I’m going to say something. I think. I might have a horrible headache and not get out of bed till noon… also… where is my bed? I haven’t slept here.” You said and sat up, the living room spinning for a few moments.

“Come on,” Cassian said and stood up, holding out his arm for you to take. You stood up, bracing yourself with his arm as you did. You let out a giggle when he picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cass!” You squealed.

“You can’t walk, you can barely stand.” He said, swaying himself as he made his way up the stairs.

“If you drop me, I’ll gut you.” You said and let him carry you up the stairs, your head still spinning.

“If you vomit on me, I’ll gut you.” He teased back. You looked up and could see Mor trailing behind you, laughing as you exchanged retorts.

It wasn’t every day that someone new was accepted into their group. But here you were, bantering with Cassian as if you’d been a part of their family for years. She knew that you’d been a support for Rhys when he was Under the Mountain, so maybe you had been a part of the family longer than she had thought. They just didn’t know it until now.

And Mor liked you. She could also sense Azriel’s shift from longing after her to you. It was odd. Not having to have Cassian act as a buffer between her and Az because she couldn’t muster courage to tell him the truth. To let him down. But now maybe this would change that. Maybe she could finally tell them.

Unless Azriel didn’t move, unless he kept avoiding you. She would have to talk to him. See what was going on in that shadowy mind of his. Ask why he’s been ignoring you when you seemed so right for him. If the shadows didn’t swirl around you, if you didn’t disappear in the dark just as Azriel did, she wouldn’t think you were a Shadowsinger. After the first week of you being brought here, you were bright. You had such a new view on things, wanting to learn more about what you’d been sheltered from your whole life. Every time you came from training with Cassian, your smile was bigger. And Mor admired it. She knew you’d been through so much, much more than Mor felt like she’s been through herself, but you were still so happy to have this new life. If you weren’t, Mor couldn’t tell.

It was for that reason that Mor thought you were perfect for Azriel. You were strong, and everything that’s been thrown at you has only made you stronger. Azriel needed that. He’s gotten through so much, from his childhood to the Illyrian training to the war. But he sulks in his shadows, where you shine in them. Mor knew he needed someone who could pull him out and make him see that there was more to this life than just pain and suffering. You could give that to them.

Maybe you would really talk to him tomorrow before you left for Windhaven. Or maybe you’d start ignoring him and bound the two of you to years of pining without actually doing anything. Mor hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to see Azriel go further into the shadows and avoid the female he cares about again. And she didn’t want that for you either. You both deserved to be happy. Hopefully together. 

The next morning you woke up, your mouth laden with dryness and your head pounding. You had to go to Windhaven this afternoon. If it was even still the morning. You turned in your bed, groaning at the light. Your shadows immediately covered the open window when you flicked your hand towards it. Being a hungover Shadowsinger had its perks. 

How did you even get into this bed? You were in the town home, which surprised you since you’d never spent a night here. You’d barely had dinner here yet. And when did you change into a nightgown? You never wore nightgowns. 

“You got that from me,” you heard from the door, groaning as light poured in. You went to move your shadows but stopped when you saw Mor. “I gave you the nightgown last night. You changed rather quickly before passing out on the bed. You still had your boots on.” She said and smiled. “Come on, we’ve got a tonic that’ll make you feel better in an hour. You need food too.” She said and new clothes appeared on the dresser. 

“Ten minutes. Azriel’s downstairs, so prepare yourself for that.” She said before turning and shutting the door. 

You sighed and rolled out of your bed, drinking the water that appeared at your night stand. You stretched out your wings as well as your body, and then went into the bathing room to freshen up. Once you had changed and put your hair in a loose braid, you padded down the stairs. The shadows and lightness of your feet covering you when you entered the room. Azriel’s eyes were on you immediately, though no one else seemed to notice your presence yet. 

“Have a fun night with the commander?” He snapped and heat rose to your neck. Who did he think he was to ask about your night? He was the one who left and didn’t do anything about it! 

Deciding to push your anger (and pettiness) aside, you gave him a sly smirk. “I had a fun night with my friends. Not that you came close enough to experience it.” You said, sliding into a chair next to Rhys. 

Azriel looked at you for a few moments before you heard a near whisper of a growl from his throat. 

“Play nice,” Rhys warned, looking over to Azriel. 

You took the tonic that appeared in front of you so you could get rid of the pounding in your head. Your shadows might have been swirling around your eyes just to keep the sun from hitting you too brightly. 

“When do we leave for Windhaven?” You asked after downing the tonic, then dug into the breakfast in front of you. Everyone was at the table today. You realized this was the first morning you’d spent at the town home. And you liked it. 

“At noon. And we’ll work on your training once we’re there. It’ll be good for the females to see you do well. And for the males to understand that females can do good as well.” Cassian answered. 

You hummed and listened to the rest of them fall into conversation. You glanced over to Rhys and frowned, seeing his eyes glow with what looked like agony. You lowered your shields enough to speak to him. 

“I know you’re listening. What’s wrong?” You asked mind to mind, keeping your eyes on your food. You felt him glance over to you for a moment before his eyes went to where he was looking before. 

“Something’s come up in the Spring Court. Something is wrong with Feyre.” He answered and you hid your frown as you took a sip of water. 

“Wrong? She’s gone through hell and she’s a newly anointed High Fae. Is she okay? Hurt?” You tried to calm him, but your shadows whispered to you that he was worried. You never understood how they could tell a person's emotions. Sometimes they couldn’t, but if it was strong enough, you supposed they could sense it. 

“Hurting. And Tamlin is letting her waste away.” He trailed off and then cleared his throat before joining in on the conversation in front of him. 

If you had the abilities that Azriel had, you would send your shadows to check on her. Tell them to report back to see if she was okay. But they couldn’t go as far as the Spring Court. They couldn’t even go as far as Illyria. 

Of course, under Amarantha, you winnowed anywhere you needed to. The villagers or enemies knew you well enough by the shadows to determine who you were. And what you needed to know. 

You were never very good at getting information out of the villagers, but a lot of them were so afraid of the stories that spread of you they gave it up immediately. You hated that you were so feared that they didn’t even try to lie to you. Like you had Rhy’s ability to destroy their minds. Your shadows could only tell you so much… and when they didn’t tell you enough, Amarantha made you torture them. That’s where the stories came from. That’s what most of your nightmares were rooted in too. 

So you could only hope that one day, Azriel would teach you how to use your shadows properly. Maybe you could learn how to use them for good. And not for spying. Not for torture. For helping people. 

For so many years, they were used to help you survive with loneliness. And then to help you and your family survive Amarantha… But now both of those things were drifting away and you were afraid that your shadows soon would too. They would leave you because you no longer needed them. Or at least, that’s what you were afraid of. They were a comfort you didn’t think you ever wanted to let go of. You hoped that you never had to. All the books you found about Shadowsinger, none of them helped you understand your powers more. That’s why you wanted to talk to Azriel. Wanted to train with him. He had a grip on them much more than you did. 

Soon enough your headache was gone and you were in your leathers, a large coat over back covered the top. It was from Mor, who said you would need it. Even if the early winter was still mild in Velaris, it was going to be worse in Illyria. 

You knew that, of course, but you took the coat anyway. You knew it would be helpful. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, protesting when Rhys took it and put it in that pocket between realms. 

“I can take my own stuff.” You said and nudged him. He gave you a sly smile and shrugged. 

“You don’t have to. Plus, you’ll be visiting Lord Devlon first. You don’t need the bag with you.” He said simply. 

“Is Azriel going to grace us with his presence at all while we are in Windhaven?” You asked, looking at Rhys. 

Rhys gave you something reminiscent of a sad smile, if he didn’t have a scheming glint in his violet eyes. “Maybe, but probably not.” He said. “I do have him doing his spying. He’s been in Velaris for 50 years. He’s got a few things needing to be reestablished.” He said. 

You hummed and spotted Cassian standing at the door talking to Mor. “You really trust me enough to go there?” You asked. “And be an emissary? What if I’m horrible?” You asked. 

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are capable of handing every male in that camp their asses.” Rhys winked. “And you’re a Shadowsinger. Devlon might even be upset that I didn’t send you right to him to train… but you won’t be training there. Not unless you want to.” He said. 

You snorted. “Gods no… I’m going to be miserable enough training there when I’m with Cass… without him, I don’t know what I’d do.” You said and spotted at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Rhys. “Thanks for believing in me.” You said. 

“Thank you for believing in me. Not many people will understand your allegiance with me.” He said. 

“Damn them, then,” You said. “You’re the only High Lord I know that truly did everything he could to help his people. And I don’t know what they were like before the war, but the news ones… they are nothing like you, Rhysand.” You said and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “They’ll never even reach the level of respect I have for you.” You said and smiled before stepping back. 

“Alright, Cass, let’s get going before I change my mind.” You said and held out your hand for Mor to take. You weren’t entirely sure where Windhaven was, so Mor would winnow you there first. 

“See you in two weeks, my Lord.” You teased and shot Rhys a wink before Mor winnowed you and Cassian to Windhaven.

A/N: I like this chapter a lot, other than Az being stupid and not saying anything. But alas, we need the angst...

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[fantaxzia]

You know what, I was so damn ready for elucien the moment he had stated that she was his mate.

I was all "Yes, time for lulu to switch sides!"

And then he didn't.

Then, when he was finally running off with Feyre and coming to the night court, I was like "Yes, now he'll finally change his attitude, make amends and work towards wooing Elain. Why else would SJM write him accompanying Feyre to the night court, where his mate is?"

I was stoked for the tension and the redemption and the healing. It was almost set up to be a romance where the human hating fae fell for the once human girl and the once human girl learned that the fae weren't monsters, that this fiery fae male was ready to do anything to win her affections, to help her heal. Etc etc....

But that didn't happen!

Imagine my surprise when it was Azriel who carried Elain into the townhouse bridal style... Azriel who took her to the gardens... Azriel who figured out that she was a seer and not going cray cray.

SJM could've easily written Elain getting sick like Nesta, running away from Az the moment they landed at the townhouse. She could've written Lucien helping her to the gardens instead. She could've made Lucien guess what was 'wrong' with her. It would've been perfect!

But she didn't.

Why?

Lucien was right there in the night court, finally with his mate. Their relationship could've started right there. Instead, SJM wrote Azriel into every scene that had Elain improving or responding positively. And in every scene that featured Lucien with Elain, she added uncomfortable feelings, doubt on both ends, and stunted conversations.

Why?

From doylist perspective, SJM had every chance to infuse the buds of a romance between Lucien and Elain. They were no longer apart, he could've very well taken residence in the night court and stayed there.

But SJM didn't write anything resembling a budding romance between them. Instead Azriel was suddenly there in every soft and gentle scene, helping Elain get clarity on what was going on with her, offering a quiet friendship and company.

I, the reader, was poised to accept the elucien romance, because yeah, there was a bond, and bonds are powerful and magical and we already had Feysand, blah blah. But SJM added this plot twist, where the bonded 'couple' actually cannot stand to be in each other's company, she deliberately wrote those super uncomfortable scenes between them, where I was actually cringing going through them.

SJM then wrote about the vision Elain was getting, featuring the firebird queen. That was the catalyst to send Lucien on a quest to find the firebird, effectively sending him away from Elain. Why would SJM deliberately write a scene that pushed them apart? The groundwork for building their relationship was already there.

But SJM steered Lucien away and sent him off continent on his own journey. Meanwhile she wrote Azriel building a relationship with Elain. Not just that, in the pivotal scene where Elain's life was in fatal danger, SJM didn't write Lucien rescuing her. She could've done it in any manner, bringing him back, having him sense the danger through the bond. Just imagine, a desperate, frantic fae male coming in hot to save his mate. That would've been perfect for the elucien romance setup.

Instead SJM wrote Azriel sensing Elain's absence in the camp. She wrote Azriel declaring, repeatedly at that, that he was getting Elain back. She wrote Nesta being scared and warning him that he'd die. She deliberately wrote him ignoring the possibility of death to rescue Elain. (Like, it's understandable that Feyre goes in to rescue her sister, but what connection does Az have to Elain? Enough to make him declare--not ask--that he was getting her back no matter what? 🤔)

SJM went and wrote Azriel rescuing Elain with Feyre, when anyone else would've been apt. She deliberately made that choice as the author.

All the events in the books were written by SJM, including the situations which prevented Lucien from being close to Elain. One can argue about why those situations arose, within the story's universe, till the cows come home. That's the watsonian perspective of looking at it, and it's not the whole picture.

Because the truth is that the author is the God of the story universe, she drives the situations and the characters and their actions. She makes the rules therein. That's doylist perspective--the author making these rules or choices. That provides us the complete picture.

SJM chose to write the situations which put more distance between Lucien and Elain. She wrote Azriel into those scenes where, as Elain's mate, Lucien would've made more sense to be present, had the bond acceptance been important to her. SJM made deliberate choices to put Azriel there, to make him interact with Elain, to build their friendship, to make Azriel rescue Elain.

That reordered the expectations in my mind; from rooting for elucien I went full on elriel. Because the auther herself steered me in that direction with her narrative choices. Every time some eluciens argue that Lucien couldn't do this or that for Elain because of some in universe impediment, I just think "Well, SJM didn't remove this obstacle for Lucien, she didn't write their interactions as romantic. Nothing was stopping her, because she controls the ACOTAR universe. She put Azriel in Elain's path instead. It's obvious why she made these choices; the answer doesn't lie within the watsonian perspective but in the doylist one. SJM doesn't want elucien to happen."

[violetasteracademic]

I feel like not enough people have actually sat down and read this article, in order, in its entirety, and fully comprehend the development of this (thoroughly planned and staged ) conversation:

Take a look at those paragraphs. Then read them again. One more time for posterity.

Often times with fated mates, the bonds are intense. Metaphorical. Poetic.

But other times- there are no metaphors. The connection seemingly random.

It's after this addressing that not all mating bonds are poetic, thematic, and some are lacking in literary metaphor and meaningful connection, Sarah explains that sometimes she plans for characters to be together and then she literally cannot force them to be together.

Right now there is actually only one mating bond that even remotely fits the category random, anti-thematic, and lacking literary metaphor connecting the two characters together. There is no power. There is no poetry. Only randomness. And Sarah admits sometimes her plans literally cannot be seen through because of chemistry issues. Lol. Guys.

People who say this could be about Azriel and Elain are completely missing the fact that this entire conversation is about mating bonds. And if you think Azriel and Elain are lacking in a connection of power (even though Azriel is the one who discovered her power while her mate couldn't) or theme (even though the amount of themes actually tying Elain and Azriel together in the books is insane) that is literally irrelevant- because this conversation is about some mating bonds being random and lacking literary theme and deep connection, not just any potential romantic pairings.

Read it again. Then again. Aaaaaaand once more, with feeling.

Leaving the photo of Josh and Sarah here so you can see I'm not cutting or rearranging the interview to create my own context- this is where the conversation develops from there:

It's magic in a way how the characters guide the story no matter how many years in advance she tries to plot. The characters (not the strict decisions of the mating bond) guide the story and wind up with the people that offer them the most growth and joy.

Lol. Guys.

Meanwhile, in Az and Elain land in the books following Elain and L/ucien's mating bond reveal:

Elain and L/ucien in the books following the mating bond reveal:

And now here is the next part of the interview- again I have not cut or rearranged or done anything but snap screenshots in order to show the progression of the conversation. We were talking about the use of mating bonds in Sarah's story in everything leading up until now, and we are still talking about it:

After revealing that sometimes her best laid plans don't work out the way she thought, and even she, the author, actually can't control who is right for whom no matter what her intentions were, she shares that her musings on "fated mates" are not set in stone. In fact, she finds the question and ideas interesting. This is all one continuous conversation about fated mates specifically, not about her relationships or love interests in general. The only idea that Az and Elain are relevant to is: What if I was put with the wrong person?

Let me tell you, if an author considers an idea interesting, something that offers a wealth of ideas to explore, and then rattles off about all of the implications and things she finds interesting about it... Babe. She is already writing about it.

SJM has not hidden in recent interviews (including her most recent), that the promise of a happily ever after is why she is a romance author:

She speaks openly about the reassurance of romance. We all love romance for this. We know that the characters are going to end up together, no matter how difficult their journey is along the way.

However, when it comes to mates, she did not confirm she is a "fated mates" author because of the comfort. She did not say that part of what she likes about fated mates is that you know fate can never be wrong and therefore there is trust and reassurance in the process. In fact, what she said was she finds the concept of agency and choice interesting. She muses on how much there is to be explored about agency and free-will after the interviewer said if God put her with the wrong person, that's none of her business. The conversation of an imperfect process is one that a lot of readers find interesting, and SJM has shut down wacky ideas (like Bryce and Hunt not really being mates) in the past. But here, she not only welcomes the conversation, but expands on everything that fascinates her about it.

This is not a woman who will only have her characters ending up with their mates. In fact, she's been building a massive question over it for years.

Meanwhile, in the books:

Free will. Agency. An imperfect system of matching.

Babes. This is all about Elain and L/ucien. Absolutely no one else.

If you cling to their relationship because SJM is a fated mates author and therefore they have to be together, I fear Sarah J. Maas may not be the author for you. She does not believe that the decisions made even by her about who will wind up together are set in stone. She is the one interested in exploring the concept of fate and free will. We did not invent this. She has never once described why she likes the fated mate trope and therefore exclusively uses it, only why she likes stories about romance and love conquering all.

I promise you, it's okay to subvert tropes. In fact, it's fun. It's hot. It's interesting.

The fact that Sarah still has a wealth of ideas to explore regarding mates and fate after years of telling the same story over and over is, frankly, so exciting. To us. To her. To journalists.

She has not come out here once and stood behind fated mates as a non-negotiable trope with her full chest, be it in the actual books that she writes or the conversations she has in interviews. We've been on this journey of questioning fate, Cauldrons, and learning the consequences of the mistakes made for years.

And it's gonna be sooo goooood.

[nikethestatue]

It was obvious. Always.

You know, with every new book, the fandom is abuzz with speculations, up to its eyeballs with theories, and I think it's great, because it's very satisfying to watch something you guessed correctly come to pass.

But, for me--and I love canon and I love being able to support my claims with words from the books--nothing still beats one small, fleeting moment in an interview. One sentence. Five words.

I. Thought. It. Was. Obvious.

The confused face of SJM, when she was asked 'who is the next book about'. 'I thought it was obvious?" she answered. This interview took place shortly after the release of ACOSF.

In her mind, when things were fresh and new, she felt that she had placed enough hints and enough scenes and enough foreshadowing to lead us, the readers, to an 'obvious' conclusion. And the ONLY obvious conclusion is Elain and Azriel. Elucien could never be called 'obvious', especially not after ACOSF and Lucien "I am not always here to see my mate' Vanserra. Just as obvious, is that Gwynriel was...not obvious at all. :)

It has been obvious since then. Azriel's reactions to any threat towards Elain. Shadows coiled like snakes, ready to strike.

Do you want children?

It doesn't matter what I want.

It's like he's given up. After 500 years, he's given up (Mor).

What about Mor?

What if the Cauldron was wrong?

What happened to Elain?

You'd know, Cass. If she were dead, you'd know.

The secret that Azriel had and that Nesta understood.

The sadness. The avoidance. The torment. The anger.

The offer and permission (which, frankly, are just cherries on top, and aren't even needed to confirm the obvious).

It's always been obvious. If you wanted to see it. And no, SJM did 'not change her mind'. She had peppered the book with hints and said 'I thought it was obvious' maybe a month after the release.

There's never really been anything to debate.

The moment Feyre asked 'Why not make them mates?" you had to have known that Elucien is not going to go anywhere.

The moment Azriel uttered 'I am getting her back' you had to have known that he was going after his woman.

The moment he offered her Truth Teller, wrapped her hand over the hilt and sent her off, you had to have known that they power shared.

The moment Mor found a small box in the pile of gifts and Elain said 'oh, it's from me' you had to have known that she also had feelings for Azriel by then.

Crumb after crumb. Drip after drip. All the moments that made up Elriel and its foreshadowing over the course of four books.

There is no Gwynriel. There is no Elucien. There is only Elriel.

I thought it was obvious.

[elrielffs]

This is the only fandom that INSIST their head canons and what they desire HAVE to happen.

What happened to crack ships?

What happened to enjoying fanfic?

Here's the thing. No one cares what you ship. No one cares what you want to happen. No one cares about how you view certain things.

It's THE INSISTENCE that rubs.

You like Neris? Okay, but stop insisting Cassian is gonna die or Nesta is gonna reject the bond. Enjoy Neris fanfiction, commission Neris fanart but DON'T back track thru the books to cherry pick sentences out of context to fit your narrative. Don't INSIST on what you FEEL is going to happen IS going to happen and everyone is else dumb cause you've picked up the CRUMBS.

You think Rhysand and the IC are evil? Okay, but SJM obviously did not write with that intent so stop INSISTING they are because YOU don't agree with what they do and you FEEL they are evil.

You like Tamlin/Eris? Great, everyone has their fans, it's not right or wrong but stop INSISTING they didn't do anything bad actually and everything they did was justified. If you like a character fine but like them with all their flaws instead of trying to excuse it or sweep it under the rug. (Also Nesta fans...)

I just don't get why people have this INSISTENCE on what THEY want to happen or how THEY interpret a scene/character rather than what IS happening in the books is that AHA correct one and the rest of the fandom "just doesn't get it?" You don't like the way the story is going? Then stop reading the series.

Stop trying to Frankenstein sentences out of context and fanfiction you've read and confused for canon into a narrative that suits what YOU want to happen.

I get I have bias as well but I only came to that bias BECAUSE OF WHERE THE BOOKS ARE OBVIOUSLY LEADING US. If you have to go back thru a book to find scenes to support what YOU want to happen rather than coming to that conclusion naturally--that should tell you something.

The disregard for canon, the narrative twisting, the sentences out of context, the "well I FEEL", I just don't understand.

There are a BILLION books for the tropes ya'll want yet a portion of this fandom wants to come in and twist THIS book series to get what THEY want when it's readily available somewhere else.

Idk man, I just feel like all this is setting the series up for failure. After 4 years and radio silence, no matter what happens, everyone's gonna be disappointed in one or another and it just makes me sad, frustrated, angry---because this series doesn't deserve people who obviously don't like it to pick it apart and put it back together in their mind to set up for a huge disappointment for themselves cause they didn't like where the books are going.

I know someone's gonna be like "BUT THIS APPLIES FOR ELRIEL TOO" and gentle reader, I'm going to touch your hand when I say this, whether or not Elriel end up together in the end or not, they have clearly been set up to have a story together in some capacity. They have multiple scenes together, other characters have pointed out something weird between them, the bc had a scene where they almost fucked in a hallway--

You don't have to read power point presentations on "ACTUALLY ELRIEL IS CANON CAUSE CASSIAN ORGASMS IS DESCRIBED LIKE MUSIC AND MUSIC IS MATE LANGUAGE" its CLEARLY written on page.

They have canon scenes--other couples do not. Just look at the recent fanart debacle. People HAVE to come up with happy scenes for the other couples because NONE exist in the books for these couples. Elriel's don't have to twist the narrative cause the narrative is there. You don't have to like it, you don't have to ship it, you don't have to think their endgame, but it's there, sorry.

[oristian]

I’m going to be putting into words arguments that I have made that are, more often than not, fragments of an overarching whole. Feel free to add on if I missed any.

A rejected bond trope cannot happen in a book that does not also share Lucien’s POV. Not only would this be the first rejected bond trope that SJM would have used in her entire catalogue of work, but it directly affects the males more than the females—not having Lucien’s immediate POV in the following chapter would diminish the climatic notion of rejecting the mating bond. The bond is just as much Lucien’s as it is Elain’s.

Following along, had Lucien been rejected in the previous book, the reader would now have to wait years for his POV in his own book where the reader would have to go back in time to see his immediate reaction, deal with the consequences of a rejection, his plethora of plot points, and also him somehow falling in love with a human woman. Not only is he going to miraculously bounce back from such a soul crushing rejection—in all meanings of the term—but he is going to manage to move on enough to fall in love with someone else.

Lucien and Elain have to resolve the mating bond before she can either reject it, and/or get with Azriel. That means, from a literature standpoint, that the reader needs to actively see Elain and Lucien exploring the bond and getting to know one another, finding out that they just do not work, and continuing on from there. If Elain just up and rejects the bond and decides to be with Azriel, that is both anticlimactic and a disservice to Azriel. Choosing love means exploring the other option, rejecting it/fate, and still choosing to be with someone else. If the bond is never explored, did she really choose Azriel for love?

Elain and Lucien are within the same plot arc—Azriel has his own established plot arc, away from Elain. If SJM truly intended for the next book to be told from Elain and Azriel’s POVs, she would have placed them within the same overarching plot arc. Instead, she separated them for two straight books and made certain that it was Lucien also tied to Koschei, and it was Azriel tied to Dusk, Illyrians, Gwydion and Truth Teller, and Valkyries.

If Elain and Azriel were meant to be endgame, SJM would have needed to already resolve/begin resolving the mating bond between Elain and Lucien, and she would not have placed Gwyn within the vicinity of Azriel—especially not in his bonus chapter—in the way in which she did. SJM would have titled the ACOSF bonus chapter and marketed it as the Elriel chapter, similarly to Nessian. However, she did not, she marketed it as Azriel’s bonus chapter and she included two women.

If Elain and Azriel were endgame, and are so blatantly obvious, what would the need for a red herring be for them? Elain’s mating bond is tension enough, why bother adding another female character into the mix? Why move so much of Elain and Azriel off page? Why have all of their biggest scenes be told from either someone else’s POV, or in a bonus chapter that many readers still have not found out about?

The ‘Elain in Black’ entire paragraph was meant to draw the reader in. Cassian, who should have been focused on Nesta, harped on the Night Court black draining the life from Elain. “She had to dress down for Nesta.” That is a fanon interpretation and not backed by canon; Elain is the most beautiful Archeron sister and would have outshined Nesta in that regard no matter what. Pair that with Nesta in the next chapter also confirming that the color of the dress was what was ill-suited, not the actual dress. Following by saying that Elain radiated good health in an amethyst dress, written in a similar way that the Day Court entourage was described in ACOWAR. Pair this with other characters expressing that Elain does not fit in with the Night Court, and the foreshadowing is there.

Anything that Vassa can offer to the narrative, the reader can learn from both Lucien and Elain—Vassa is not needed for a POV, as she has nothing she can offer that would create a compelling story. She would, ultimately, just be a love interest. Anything about Koschei, we can learn from Elain’s visions and any stories that Vassa tells Lucien. Anything about Vassa in general, we can learn from Lucien. The reader already knows what happened to Vassa and the readers know about her curse and that Koschei still expects her return. She is going to be a side character with her own love interest, similarly to Amren and Varian.

I am certain that there are more, so feel free to comment and/or reblog with some! Elain and Azriel were never meant to be taken as seriously as they have and do not make much sense from a narrative perspective. They do not share any overarching plot arcs, they are wildly incompatible with one another, and there is so much foreshadowing and symbolism between Elucien and Gwynriel that wouldn’t need to be there if Elriel truly was endgame.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[littlefeltsparrow]

It’s really strange that the Inner Circle expected Nesta to recover within such a short span of time when their lifespans are so long, you would think that a clique of immortals might have difference conceptions of acceptable recovery timeframes. 1-2 years is hardly anything when you factor in the centuries that Nesta has yet to live. With the way they act, you’d think they’d never been exposed to the behaviour of a traumatized individual, especially one who’s undergone a HUGE transition.

It would actually be a great opportunity to show the cultural differences between the former-humans and the fae. Mentally, the Archeron sisters are still human and haven’t had a lot of experience in the fae world and don’t have a full grasp of what it’s like. So, you have a vast gap of knowledge between the two groups when it comes to time, milestones, significant moments, etc. SJM doesn’t take advantage of this potential because the ages of the Inner Circle are surface level, really they just act like a clique of college friends and their vast ages don’t really matter that much. BUT THEY SHOULD!

I think it’d be really funny if Cassian was like: “Yeah after the war I knew this one guy who disappeared into a cave for 30 years, but when he came out he was as good as new! Everyone needs a little time.” And then cut to Feyre’s flabbergasted reaction. Instead, they act so impatient about it. Like…calm down you guys, you literally have centuries to work things out, you don’t have to freak out over Nesta not recovering quickly enough.

[captainsophiestark]

The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

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Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[3storyofmylife3]

A problem I find in fiction nowadays is that female main characters don’t seem real.

They’re too perfect, too untouchable.

Even their flaws aren’t really flaws.

They’re insecure, they don’t believe in themselves, but they are perfect in every other way.

The main character will be pretty but she wouldn’t know it. She’s fit a perfect aesthetic that little girls who read the books try to attain and it just wouldn’t work.

They’re badasses because they have a few “witty” one liners, but they’re mean and rude to everyone else. They judge other girls and mean to guys because girls are better than guys obviously (yay girl power).

They’re have a ridiculous amount of trauma but it doesn’t affect their health in anyway.

Writers are often too focused on making badass female characters that they forget to actually write a character.

Their are exceptions to this of course.

Like Lucy Carlyle in Lockwood and Co, despite being written by a man (Jonathan Stroud) she’s probably the most realistic female main character i’ve ever read about.

She gets jealous and petty sometimes, she gets insecure, she’s mean, she makes dumb mistakes, but she LEARNS and she GROWS.

She doesn’t just repeat the same mistakes bcuz there are no consequences to them and the male love interest will back her up no matter what 💅.

And she has friends and crushes and enemies and she’s just…normal. No incredible beauty, and amazing personality. Just a girl who tries her best with what’s been given to her. She’s a hard worker and is very talented (and she knows it, she just doesn’t really understand the reality of it).

Or Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place. An arizona trash bag, the worst person you will ever meet, but she tries to change no matter how long it takes her and tries to do good. And you have love her because she’s smart and relatable and even though she’s selfish sometimes she cares about her friends and is willing to do anything for them by the time the series is over, and it’s not like she goes all perfect of a sudden, she still makes mistakes and learns from them. Because the most important thing is to try.

Anne from Anne with an E. You will never get more second-hand embarrassment from a character besides Anne and still love her, because she’s just a teenage girl who has hopes and dreams and a big imagination.

Alex and Red from The Land Of Stories.

Cress from TLC.

Mabel from Gravity Falls.

Inej and Nina from SOC.

And there are so many more, i wish we’d give characters like this more times than characters like SJM heroines 🥲.

[aurana-i]

I’m genuinely concerned about gw*nriels who say “Gw*n will change Az! He’s a f-boy now, he feels entitled to Elain, she’s his rebound but Gw*n will change him and they will heal together”

Like… are you for real rn?🙈

First of all, have you met f-boys in real life before? Good luck trying to change those, cause girl, you can’t change anyone! No matter how good and light and bubbly and this and that you think you are, sorry to break it to you, but you’re not special. Fboys stay fboys no matter how hard you try.

Second of all, “change”? I will speak words of wisdom of a wonderful SJM man : “You cannot pick and choose which part of her (or him in that case) to love”. When you love you don’t try to change anything in your partner you just learn to accept and adapt. A person changes only when it their own decision. And if Azriel in your opinion is a “fuck boy” then he will stay this way and his lovers should accept it.

If you say that Elain is Azriel’s rebound from Mor, then Gw*n is his rebound from Elain?😃 it’s your logic after all, why would Gw*n be different? Oh, because she’s his “mate”? The mate he didn’t care about for 2 years after her SA? The mate he didn’t give 2 fucks about when she was taken to a blood rate and had all chances at being SAd again and killed? You sure you understand a mating bond correctly? Suddenly, she will be special and heal him in his book (lol, yeah, sure)

Also, most importantly, you really want Gw*n of all fuckin characters in the series, who suffered from the actual SA, to… change… A MAN?! Who is a… FBOY?! ☠️ What is wrong with yall , do you hear yourselves? Do you not realise how messed up this is?

Cut with this saviour complex bs, it’s embarrassing and pathetic 🙄

Honestly, the amount of mischaracterisation of Az , Elain and Gw*n and even Lu*ien from gw*riles and el*ciens I witness every day is astonishing. Let me break it down to you:

Azriel is the opposite of an entitled fuckboy. To be an entitled fboy you need to have an ego and a self esteem the size of a mountain which Azriel doesn’t have.

Elain is not boring, is not weak, is not anyone’s rebound. Elain had a build up for several book already. She’s made, she’s a Seer, she’s an Archeron sister and the loveliest of them all and could bring kings to their knees with just a few smiles. She’s 10 times more important to the books than a random priestess.

Gw*n is not interested in Azriel or in any man.

Lulu is not interested in Elain nor does she in him. The only man she expressed interest in is Az who is obsessed with her.

What in these canon statements can’t you understand? How are Elriels the ones with “no reading comprehension skills” when your dumb statements exist? It’s not like yall are 10 y.o. and we try to explain to you quantum physics in Mandarin, right? The books are really simple to understand but yall prefer to have ships which are based on 10 year old interviews and one BC. What a joke.

[dippedinmelancholy]

I've been thinking about he weird Cassian/Mor/Azriel not-love-but-still-somehow-love triangle and like, the more I think about it, the shittier Morrigan looks. So, the initial Cassian fucking her? Not shitty, she's just trying to get out of her marriage, though Cassian is clearly down bad for Azriel and SJM doesn't have the balls to write it. But when you pin together Morrigan's conversations with Feyre. . . She's aware Azriel is in love with her, or at the very least, assumes so. Additionally, she wants nothing romantic with him, but absolutely refuses to tell him because she likes having him utterly wrapped around her finger and eager to protect her, to do anything for her. She specifically implies this when she tells Feyre "I like the way things are." This implies she knows Azriel is miserable. She knows he's pining. She knows she will never give him what he wants, nor will she tell him that she doesn't and won't ever return the feeling because she likes USING HIM. She likes using Cassian and an overly physical relationship to keep Azriel at bay, but doing just enough to keep him attached to her. She tells Feyre she is also aware of Azriel's self loathing. She knows she could strip naked for him and beg for his touch, but Azriel hates himself too much to dare. He thinks she is too pure and lovely for him, akin to an angel or goddess. So she doesn't need to use Cassian as a barrier, but it's an extra wall to guard her, and extra hurtful since she fucked Cassian. Then, you have the mess of the High Lord's meeting. Mor is uncomfortable, at least looks fearful, and Azriel attacks Eris. We know this is what Mor WANTS. She wants Azriel to defend her no matter the consequences. She wants to be safe from any reminder of her past, but especially her father and Eris. After getting the exact reaction she always wants from Azriel, knowing he never ever ever pushes her for more, but protects her because he loves her and never expects her to pay him back in any shape or form . . . Mor decides she needs to hurt him. She needs to reinforce how low he is, how he can protect her, can do everything she asks, and she will always choose someone else. So despite having no attraction to him, there being absolutely no need to do so, she sleeps with Helion. She fucks a High Lord with the only purpose to hurt Azriel, who is supposedly family, even as she hates every second of it. Who she is supposed to love. Yet she only does it to show him, in front of everyone, just how low he is. How filthy. How unworthy. Nothing he will ever do will be good enough, but she'll keep giving him just enough to give him hope, only to crush him every now and then. What a dream. SIDE NOTE How the fuck did Helion not pick up anything? You can literally smell arousal if you enter a room as a fae. If this man is half as a giving and talented lover as the text keeps telling us, how the fuck did he not know Morrigan wasn't into it? SJM please write your queer characters better or hire a ghost writer, I'm begging you.