Lady Escapism

Hey everyone and welcome to my page! I write for the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by SJM (all rights to her, only my OC's are my own). Here, everything is sorted by character and all smut is labeled as such.

Please comment on this master list to be added to my general tag list or if there's an ongoing series you want to be tagged in only, let me know.

Happy reading!

AZRIEL

Sweetheart (Smut)

Wake Up Call (Smut)

Rendezvous (Smut)

Whisper in the Night (Smut)

Burden

Body Positivity

Jealousy

Nothing

The Fourth Archeron Sister:

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Second Choice:

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

ERIS

Face Time - Modern AU (Smut)

Stress Relief (Smut) - Part Two (Smut)

Return Home Part One - Part Two (Smut)

Fractured Bonds: Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

MORRIGAN

Body Worship (Smut) - Part Two (Smut)

CASSIAN

The First Valkyrie - Cassian x Tanwyn/Valkyrie (Part One)

The First Valkyrie - Cassian x Tanwyn/Valkyrie (Part Two)

The First Valkyrie - Cassian x Tanwyn/Valkyrie (Part Three)

NEXT GEN SERIES (CHRONOLOGICAL)

Rules of Three

From the Mouths of Babes

Fathers and Their Children

OTHER

The Aristeia of Klytaimestra

Economy of Contemporary Romance in Social Media Spaces

tag list:

Summary: At war, separated from his brothers and anyone who loves him, Cassian finds himself coming to know Tanwyn, a Valkyrie captain who brings light to his dark days. Despite knowing how it ends, their story is worth telling.

Inspiring Quote: “His first lover beyond the Night Court’s borders had been from the Valkyries’ ranks – a bold-hearted female named Tanwyn with a smile like a storm. She’d ridden into that battle at the head of the Valkyries and had never come out of the pass” (p. 467, 2021 hardcover edition). 

Part One -- Part Two

T/W: Violence

___

He learned through the grapevine it was Commander Athena who ordered all troops to halt before entering the pass. “Her little ladies need to rest,” a male mocked from the other side of the fire where they ate a meal of thin broth. 

“The pass is a hard trek,” he couldn’t resist saying. “It makes sense to rest the horses and soldiers before starting. Besides, they don’t want to be stuck camping overnight where they’re less defendable. If they push hard starting at dawn, they can make it out by dusk.” 

Cassian swallowed more broth as his brethren looked at him. “You’re not as dumb as you look, bastard,” Moran said. He ignored the insult and finished his food. 

Punishment for speaking out of turn earned him both dish washing duty and second watch. Settling onto the rock first watch had used, Cassian scanned the tree line and the tents for any sign of disturbance. 

Mind focused, he didn't hear the footsteps approaching until she was nearly upon him. Tanwyn walked into the little light provided by the torch he brought with him. 

“Hey,” he said, standing and reaching for her. 

She allowed herself to be pulled into a hug for a long moment, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

She pulled back and said, “Sorry to disturb your watch but I wanted to see if you are alright.” 

“I’m well enough, you?” 

She shook her head. “Just tired.” 

They both settled onto the rock and Tanwyn rested her head on his shoulder. “Tomorrow is going to be hard for the ground forces,” Cassian said. “How’s Friend doing?” 

“He’ll be okay,” she said. “It's not the horses I'm concerned about.” 

“What concerns you?” 

She sighed as she stood. “Nothing for you to worry about.” 

Tanwyn walked away then, looking back and smiling at Cassian sitting in the dark. “Stay well, soldier.” 

He let her walk away without further comment.

—

Cassian never got to rest that night. The warning bells started ringing with an hour left of his watch shift. 

He raced back into the encampment where he found his brethren gathering what they could and taking to the skies.

“Grab as many weapons as you can and fly south,” his commanding officer shouted as bodies launched into the air. “Go!” 

“What’s going on?” Cassian shouted. 

“Hybern in the pass, we’re going to get ambushed. The meeting point is back at the Bravos flats where we can face them head on. Now, grab something and go!” 

Cassian ran to the supply wagons and ladened himself with whatever he could grab. Slinging one more canteen over his shoulder, he took into the sky. The Bravos flats were only about a hard hour’s flight away. But would they have time to outrun the forces hiding in the pass with enough time to spare to organize the forces? He thought of the exhaustion on Tanwyn’s face and didn’t know for certain. 

An hour later, he landed in a heap as various items tumbled from his shoulders where he strewn them on haphazardly. 

“They stayed to hold Hybern off,” he overheard a high-ranking officer say. “Haughty witches, they won’t manage.” 

“The Valkyrie?” another male asked. “They might buy time but they won't make it out.” 

A cold sweat broke out over his skin as he dropped more supplies and walked over to the males. “The Valkyrie are going to hold the pass?” he asked. 

“They’ll try,” one male snorted. “But they can only buy time before they will be overwhelmed. The goal is to buy time for the rest of the ground forces to get out.” 

“We can provide aerial support,” Cassina insisted. “We should help them hold the pass long enough…” 

“Shut it, bastard,” he snapped. “No one asked your opinion.” 

Cassian turned and shouted, “I’m not abandoning good people to a suicide battle to save my own hide.” 

He bent down to pick up a stray sword and when he lifted his head to find a shield, a fist connected with his face. He sprawled to the ground, as a boot began to stomp him. He tried to grab the foot to stop it from making contact again, but his wrist screamed in pain. He tried to roll away, only to find another male’s fists rain down on him. 

Before he could gather any strength, the world faded from his vision and it all went black. 

—

Something prodded him in the back. It was all he could feel other than the jostling of his body. 

Cassian peeled his eyes open only to be blinded by a searing pain in his head. He felt like a horse trampled him. The memories came flooding back, Tanwyn, the battle, the beating. He rose from where he laid next to a pile of spears, the handle of one responsible for the prodding in his back. 

Stumbling out of the wagon, he looked around and could not determine his surroundings. 

“Finally,” a gruff voice came. “How was your nap, princess?” It was the blacksmith he’d worked with a few months ago. He took a few long strides to keep up with the wagon’s pace. 

“How long was I out?” Cassian asked, ignoring the insult. 

“Three days,” he said. “They knocked you around good.” 

“What of the battle?” 

“All the fools who stayed died. But they held the line long enough for the rest of us to get out of there. And for a few towns to evacuate before Hybern came down the pass.” 

Cassian felt his great crack at the news. Tanwyn was dead. By Hybern hands. He came to a stop and looked to the forest around him and finally registered the warmth. “Where are we?” he called. 

“Along the border between the Summer and Spring Courts,” the smith called back. “Get a move on, boy. We need to keep moving if we're going to outrun those whoresons.” 

From that moment, Cassian would keep track of the next time someone deemed to call him by his name. It would be almost a year. 

—

“Did you love her,” Rhys asked, sitting in front of the fire. His wings sat bandaged from the damage the Hybern forces did to him while in their clutches. 

“I don’t think so,” Cassian said, honestly. “I think it was nice to have conversation and companionship. I liked talking to her just as much as I liked the sex.” 

Rhys nodded. “And it was so nice to have someone say my name without a sneer. Like it meant something more than a name a whore called her bastard,” he added. 

Azriel clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe, Cassian.” 

“Cassian, Azriel,” Rhys said, looking between them. “Brothers, I missed you, I love you, and I am so happy you’re both alive.” 

“Same to you, Rhys,” Cassian said. 

And they sat there, letting themselves hurt and heal, still in shock at the abruptness in which the war ended. Cassian knew he would never forget Tanwyn’s smile or how the sound of his name on her lips made him feel. A part of her would stay with him, he knew. And he liked the thought of that. 

P.S. Should I do a series like this for Lucien and Jesminda?

Taglist:

Summary: At war, separated from his brothers and anyone who loves him, Cassian finds himself coming to know Tanwyn, a Valkyrie captain who brings light to his dark days. Despite knowing how it ends, their story is worth telling.

Inspiring Quote: “His first lover beyond the Night Court’s borders had been from the Valkyries’ ranks – a bold-hearted female named Tanwyn with a smile like a storm. She’d ridden into that battle at the head of the Valkyries and had never come out of the pass” (p. 467, 2021 hardcover edition). 

Part One -- Part Three

T/W: Smut

Cassian’s wings flared as Tanwyn flipped him onto his back and dug her fingers into the muscles of his chest. Having come free in her maneuvering, she gripped his cock as she fitted it to her core and took it to the hilt in one thrust. 

And so she rode him. Hard. Tanwyn didn’t care much for love-making, Cassian had discovered these last few weeks. He tried to take control with gentle kisses and slow caresses the first time they slept together. But she told him plainly what she wanted. 

Cassian laid mesmerized as her breasts shifted with the force of her grinding herself onto his length. The trim muscles of her abdomen worked, a sheen of sweat coating her skin as she used his body to her pleasure. 

He reached up, using a massive hand to massage one of her beautiful breasts, eventually tweaking the peaked nipple. She moaned and began to move faster.

Cassian sat up, giving her an angle for which to grind her sensitive clit. He dipped his head and sucked the abandoned nipple into his mouth. In only another moment, he felt her cunt begin to tremble around his length. Throwing her head back and moaning his name, Tanwyn came, milking his cock with her internal muscles. 

She panted, hot breath on his neck. “You’re turn,” she whispered. 

Without another word, Cassian flipped them again so she was the one pinned. He drove his cock into her at a relentless pace that she met with bucks of her hips thrust for thrust. It took what felt like less than a minute for heat to curl at the base of his spine. At the same time, Tanwyn bit down on his neck and ran one fingernail down the length of his wing - the sensations pushing him over the edge as he spent himself inside her. 

With the last of his cum inside her, he pulled himself out of her cunt and let his body collapse next to hers. On his stomach, she was covered by the mass of his wing. She ran a finger along the arch where the bone protruded. 

“Stop that,” he murmured into the furs. “Or I’ll get hard again.” 

Tanwyn laughed. “I’m glad you finally let me touch these,” she said. “They are unlike any leather I’ve felt before.” Cassian felt pride bloom in his chest at her admiration of his wings. 

They came together more fully, skin touching skin as they sat and breathed each other in. Relaxed like this, Tanwyn became soft to the touch. Cassian let his hands drift over the swell of her hips and thighs. Tanwyn’s hands moved to his hair, stroking and gently pulling now and again. 

“Captain!” a voice came from outside the tent. “Captain, you're needed by the Commander!” Tanwyn sighed and pulled herself from Cassain’s arms. He watched her as she began to dress. 

The Commander, he learned throughout these weeks, was both the leader of this collection of Valkyrie and Tanwyn’s aunt. 

“Any female from our nation can be offered to the Valkyrie or be chosen in some circumstances. But, the familial lines still play a role. In my family, if more than two daughters are born to a set of parents, the ones after are dedicated to the Valkyrie. My family line has been serving as Valkyrie for over 600 years.” 

When he asked more about how their leadership functioned and the organization of the ranks, she signed and told him she wasn’t allowed to tell outsiders. The only other thing he knew was the Valkyries were sterilized at fifteen, when they had to officially choose between a warrior’s life or to leave the facilities.

He dressed himself in a hurry and ducked to follow Tanwyn out of her tent. Before he could press a kiss to her head like he normally would, someone cleared their throat. A few feet away stood Athena, Tanwyn’s aunt and the Commander. 

Tanwyn dipped her head and walked to her without another word to Cassian. He dipped his head to the formidable female, just like Tanwyn had. She only turned as Tanwyn reached her and they both walked off without acknowledging him further. 

Cassian found himself thinking as he walked back to his tent. 

The days had blurred together as time marched on. There had been another battle after he first met Tanwyn. It was after those bloody days when they finally pushed out the Spring soldiers from trying to reclaim their lands that Tanwyn had pulled hin into a tent and fucked the memories away. 

Then came the battle further up the coast where the Illyrians had to take to the skies to fight over water as more troops from Hybern tried to make landfall. The ground units took care of what the Illyrians couldn’t. 

The combined Illyrian, Valkyrie, and other ground forces made them a difficult army to beat as they made their way up the western coast of Prythian. There was still no word on the status of any of either of his brothers or Mor, just no confirmation they were dead. 

The thought sobered him each time he thought that Mor wouldn’t make it on the lists of Illyrian dead and maybe Azriel could die with no one finding out, given the nature of his work. Rhys’ death, at least, would be communicated thoroughly. He would be a martyr for their side. 

Trying to share these fears with Tanwyn hadn’t gone over well. All those she loved fought by her side each day. She cared little for her parents or kin as she had little contact with them. “Trust in their skill,” she said to him one night. 

It didn’t ease his pain. 

He entered into the Illyrian camp to find the soldiers packing up. He grabbed the arm of his tent neighbor, Declan Moran, and asked “What’s going on?” 

Moran huffed, “Off fucking that whore again?” 

Cassian bristled. “Just tell me why things are getting packed in such a rush.” 

“If you’d been here you’d know we just got orders to get to the Summer Court and fast. We’re likely going to have to take the Meinir Pass to get there in time.” 

“But the Meinir Pass is a death trap,” Cassian said. 

“Good thing we have wings,” Moran said walking away. 

“Not all of us do,” he said, turning to pack up his tent. 

Days passed as they flew slowly so as to not abandon the ground forces with no aerial support. They stopped at dusk, ate, slept till dawn, and kept on moving. Even if he laid eyes on Tanwyn, he wouldn’t have had the energy to do anything but sleep. 

This day, however, he followed the commands to land mid-day. As his unit circled down, he saw the great, bare stones that marked the entrance to the Meinir Pass.

Taglist:

Summary: At war, separated from his brothers and anyone who loves him, Cassian finds himself coming to know Tanwyn, a Valkyrie captain who brings light to his dark days. Despite knowing how it ends, their story is worth telling.

Inspiring Quote: “His first lover beyond the Night Court’s borders had been from the Valkyries’ ranks – a bold-hearted female named Tanwyn with a smile like a storm. She’d ridden into that battle at the head of the Valkyries and had never come out of the pass” (p. 467, 2021 hardcover edition). 

A/N: Hey everyone! I graduated college and now I actually have some free time again!

T/W: mild swearing

Part Two -- Part Three

___

Cassian’s boots suctioned in the muck that had become the paths between the sections of tents that made up the forces stationed here. They had been at the edges of a deep forest for a while, waiting for orders while smaller units played cat-and-mouse with the Hybern forces. The Lord of Spring had lost control of this southern portion of his land a few weeks ago and being unable to complete the Great Rite, the Spring magic began to fade from the corners of his lands. 

He kept trudging on through the mud and horse shit mixture as he carried four shields. The large wooden rectangles were difficult enough to carry on their own, let alone multiple at a time. But these didn’t fit on the supply wagon and someone had to carry the rest. That someone was him. 

Cassian let his mind wander to how his brothers fared these last few years. It had been nearly five since he saw both together. He spotted Azriel at the High Lord’s side last year as he made an inspection of the camp. But the High Lord, not known for his kindness or generosity, had prevented their meeting. Cassian had been stopped a dozen yards from the High Lord’s tent, being told he was not allowed to distract the Shadowsinger from his tasks. And Rhys was somewhere on the Continent, he recalled someone mentioning months ago. 

Lost in thought and vision blocked from the shields, he did not notice the horse to his left until its hoof came within inches of his face. Startled, Cassian twisted to put a few feet between himself and the beast. The slickness of the terrain caused him to lose his traction and he found himself sprawled on the ground. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to mind yourself around war horses,” a female voice demanded. 

“No,” Cassian said, not sure how to respond. “I usually just avoid them.” 

He stood up managing to keep himself upright and looked around for the owner of the voice. Next to the large roan horse stood a tall, dark skinned female. Her hair was black as and twisted into thick, almost rope-like strands that fell down to her elbows. She wore black leggings, a loose grey tunic pulled in at the waist with a thick black belt. A dagger and a sword hung off the belt, and by the muscle on the female, she knew how to use them. 

“Ah you’re one of those Illyrian lads, then.” 

He felt his wings flare without his intention. “I am.” 

“Why do you have so many shields,” she asks. “Seems a lot for one male to wield." 

“These didn’t fit on the supply wagon. I’m carrying.” 

“Makes sense,” she said. The female picked up a shield and used the strap to secure it to her horse. “Let me help you take them back, at least, since my horse tried to kill you.” 

Then she grinned at him. Her bright, golden eyes held her laughter as waited for a response from him. 

“I would - that would be - thanks,” he stuttered, the wind knocked out of him not from the fall but from her smile. 

He lifted the other two shields, intent on carrying the rest himself. But before he could react, the female took one out of his hand. There was no time to argue as the female set off with her horse by its reins. 

He rushed to her side, keeping his footing despite the muck. 

“What do they call you then,” she asked. “Other than, You, boy!” 

He felt himself smile again. “They call me Cassian occasionally.” He caught her scent of sweat and something warm and spiced as the breeze shifted. “What do they call you other than beautiful?” 

Her laugh was boisterous and unrestrained. Cassian smiled despite himself. She pulled in a deep breath and said, “My name is Tanwyn and I am a Valkyrie.” 

—

Tanwyn had walked with him back to his part of camp, handed off the shields, and left him there staring like a fool at her retreating form. He found himself scanning crowds for her, searching for her mahogany skin or that massive roan beast she called Friend. 

When he’d asked about why she called him Friend, she shrugged and gave no explanation. 

That morning, Cassian woke to find the blacksmith telling his superior officer his apprentice had taken sick and he needed an extra set of hands. Unfortunate to be in his captain’s line of sight, Cassian now sat with three dozen swords in need of cleaning and sharpening. 

While sparks flew off the wheel, he thought of Azriel and Rhys. Azriel would shake his head at the line he tried to throw at Tanwyn while Rhys would laugh and encourage him. A pang rang in his chest at the thought of never seeing them again. He checked the lists each time they came around and heaved a sigh each time he failed to find the High Lord’s son or Shadowsinger. 

“Clear the way,” someone shouted. 

A thunder of hooves came down the path as Cassian looked behind his shoulder to see a group of mounted warriors - The females from the look of their light armour - overtook the path. At the front of the group sat Tanwyn. She wore different clothes and now had a leather pauldron over her shoulder. Her hair bounded with the rhythm she rode. Imperious at the head of her unit, she looked just as much a warrior as he’d ever seen. 

“Arrogant females,” the old blacksmith grumbled. “It's unnatural, them taking up weapons." 

“They seem to hold their own,” Cassian unwisely responded. The old man cursed him a bastard before stalking off to find Cassian more work to do. He found himself thinking back to Mor and how he’d gotten word she was fighting in the vanguard with Miriam, Drakon, and the rest of the human-fae forces. She would like the Valkyries, he thought. 

After a hard day smithing, he finally found the time to slip away under the cover of darkness to seek out the Valkyrie tents on the other side of the encampment. He attempted to stick to the shadows like Az would, but with his size, he was spotted quickly. 

“Oi, you!” someone shouted. “What are you doing back there?” 

Cassian cursed his size and walked from the shadows and tried not to appear like a threat. “I’m looking for someone,” he said. 

“Who?” a female voice asked. 

“A warrior called Tanwyn. I need to ask her something.” 

“And what is it you need to ask?” The female questioning him was likely a Valkyrie herself, but had lighter features than Tanwyn. 

“Its personal,” he said. 

“Well,” a familiar voice came from behind him. “I suppose you should ask it then.” 

Cassian turned to find Tanwyn not two feet from him. Her amusement at his stunned silence danced in her remarkable eyes. . 

“Um - may we speak in private,” he asked. 

She puffed out a laugh and gestured for him to follow as she walked down the still muddy path. He followed only a step behind her. 

She pushed into a modest tent. It wasn't as large as a general’s accommodations, but it was better than his. He barely fit into the canvas given to him as a part of his soldier’s equipment. 

“What is it, then?” she questioned, crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto one him as she stared at him. 

Shit, he didn’t know why he said he needed her to answer a question. Thinking back to Mor, he quickly blurted out, “Would you train with someone, a female I mean, from Prythian who is a warrior in her own right but still learning?” 

“No,” she said sternly. “We are forbidden by our king to teach our techniques to anyone outside of those who've sworn allegiance to him.” 

“Oh,” he said. “I was only asking because I have a friend who is currently fighting alongside Miriam who might be interested in the Valkyrie way after this war is over.” 

“I would like to help her,” Tanwyn said, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips. “But like I said, we’re forbidden. And besides, we train our warriors from the time they are young.” 

“Illyrains are the same way,” he said. “The boys start at about age ten or so.” 

“Same with our girls. But we raise them at our facilities from toddlerhood.” 

And so they spend the night talking away about the similarities and differences in training and lifestyle between the Valkyries and Illyrains. They ended up sitting on a deer skin serving as a rug with fresh cool water filling their canteens. Tanwyn seemed impressed that he grew up with the High Lord’s son and could call him a close friend. Cassian didn’t try to explain that he, Rhys, and Az were more like brothers than friends. 

When Tanwyn yawned, Cassian excused himself from her tent. 

“Feel free to come back anytime if you have any more questions,” she said. 

“I will,” he responded. “Thank you for the company, Tanwyn.” 

She smiled at him. “Anytime, Cassian.” 

He walked back through the encampment, thinking how nice it was to have a conversation with someone again. And how nice it was to hear his name. 

Taglist:

Below is an essay that has gotten accepted to TWO (!!!) literature conferences! Which is totally insane to me but I was thinking I would share it here, too. Please, feel free to comment and we can discuss any point you would like to.

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Romance has always been a powerful genre that tends to market towards women-centered plots and characters. During the pandemic, the social media platforms TikTok and Instagram presented a new opportunity for readers, authors, and publishers to reach wider, captive audiences. And through a perfect storm of algorithmic marketing, the power of influencers, and a collective desire to escape reality, #BookTok was born – rocketing contemporary romance and fantasy books to the tops of charts. One of the main criticisms of these books demotes them as highly marketable books that rely more on their economic value than artistic quality. Weather “#BookTok books” should be valued has become a debate amongst readerly communities. However, the economic factors that contribute to taste, production, and valuation seem to be missing from these conversations. 

Per Pierre Bourdieu, the link between the assignment of economic value and intellectual work cannot be ignored. The acceptance of an artistic product as legitimate requires acceptance from the in-group that can be hard to receive. But once the acceptance has been achieved, it can then begin to really participate in economic trade. However, one of the downsides of the acceptance of the in-group is that now the intellectual and physical labor of writing has become commodified. He says: 

This is true of the mode of artistic perception now accepted as legitimate, that is, the aesthetic disposition the capacity to consider in and for themselves, as form rather than function, legitimate works of art, not only the works designated for such apprehension, i.e,   legitimate works of art, but everything in the world, including cultural objects which are not yet consecrated – such as, at one time, primitive arts, or, nowadays, popular photograph or kitsch – and natural objects (Bourdieu 3). 

However, I see more work going into getting contemporary romance books accepted as legitimate works of art. The more prevalent it becomes, the more the genre must run the gauntlet of cultural and academic criticism before it becomes percived by wider audiences as legitimate works of art. 

The creation of spaces dedicated to one theme proves difficult in a world that strives to be as interconnected as possible. In an almost surprising way, social media has been an effective way to create a space where people can connect about one thing. #BookTok has accomplished this through the platform’s use of algorithms as marketing tools for its users. What these algorithms do allows users to fine-tune their spaces to reflect their interests, ideas, and desires. Thus, in creating this space, #BookTok readers have created a sub-culture of readers that has its own ideas of what constitutes a book worth reading. Bourdieu may have classified the #BookTok readers in their own class of readers. As their own class, these social media readers “distinguish themselves by the distinction they make, between the beautiful and the ugly, the distinguished and the vulgar, in which their position in the objective classifications are expresses or betrayed” (Bourdieu 6). As a woman dominated space, books that go viral on these platforms include themes, characters, and tropes that appeal to female sexuality and desires. The sub-culture of mostly female readers who have created their own space have also created a market of desirable books and reformed what having good taste in books looks like. 

The technological space of #BookTok and its elevation of contemporary literature, particularly romance novels, exists in concert with other spaces of literary intrigue. It would be easy to distinguish high literary spaces from lesser online hobbyist spaces for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the academic bubble. However, drawing a line between culture and sub-cultures diminishes the potential for important conversations regarding literary interest. The sociological study of “The science of taste and cultural consumption begins with a transgression that is no way aesthetic: it had to abolish the sacred frontier in which makes legitimate culture a separate universe...” from the rest of the literary world (Bourdieu 6). The intersection of sociological study, contemporary works of romantic fiction, and academic literature could all be connected in fascinating conversations about female sexuality, the establishment heteronormative relationship models, the promotion and normalization of LBGTQ+ romance narratives, and more. But the barrier between the facet of popular culture that is contemporary romance, #BookTok, and its adjacent spaces remains erected. The wall remains, in no small part, thanks to the criticisms that platforms like #BookTok must face before the super-culture accepts its novels as legitimate culture. 

One of the criticisms of online literary hobbyist spaces is that they seem to promote the repetitive, formulaic iterations of the same tropes in order to sell more books. Economically speaking, tropey contemporary romance books that meet certain criteria then saturate the market, and thus the books lose their worth. They become dime-a-dozen. In an opinion article published in The Reflector, a University of Indianapolis magazine, Olivia Pastrick wrote, “From the books I have read to the posts I have seen from BookTok, it is abundantly clear to me that these writers care more about how many tropes they can cram into a book than their plot or characters” and that authors are “trying to make the book as marketable as possible”. In designing the aesthetics of a book to be as appealing as possible, it makes the book less worthy of the attention it was designed to receive; Pastrick essentially argues. However, Bourdieu counters this criticism with the idea that “The pure intention of an artistic effort” is worthy of applying to any cultural “object, whether or not it has been designed with any intention” (Bourdieu 32). Any of the books valued in hobbyist spaces have some merit, whether they are initially visible or not. The popularized books represent the changing cultural values of contemporary society, such as demonstrating the growing acceptance of the expression of female sexuality and/or queer relationships. To critics, an average contemporary romance novel may not an inherent value due to the quality of writing or the high market value of the book, but I argue that as society continues to adapt, these books provide a space for readers and authors alike to address change as it happens. 

The criticisms that contemporary romance books face on the whole are not completely void of merit. Some authors do value the marketability of tropes over contributing to literature and society. However, I argue that the work these books do adds to literary study by providing examples of shifting ideologies in regard to whom the ideal readership even is. Pierre Bourdieu may not have had sexually explicit, female-centered, or queer-representing romance novels in mind when he consolidated and published his theories on the connections between economy and literate. But his ideas apply, nonetheless. Literary taste continues to develop past Bourdieu’s time, and part of those developments are driven by the changing social, political, and economic world the literature is produced by. No matter who says that #BookTok books do not provide any real-world value, or that the books produce some unrealistic expectations of relationships, or what-have-you, I will redirect them to the words of Pierre Bourdieu and how the influences of economy and literature cannot be denied. Not every book written was born to be a classic; however, the devaluation of contemporary romance is not warranted. 

Works Cited

Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Trans.  Richard Nice. (Harvard UP, 1984).

summary: they got caught. part two of Rendezvous but can be read as a standalone

a/n: ever write a 5 page fanfic instead of a 5 page essay for a class you need to pass to graduate in 8 weeks 😅😅

masterlist

warnings: smut, familial dissapointment

wc; 2,100

Rhys poorly fought back a smile as Azriel sat stiff as a board in a chair ill-suited to wings. Eris ranted at Thea some more about how foolish and reckless she has been the night of his coronation ball. Rhys just seemed to find the whole situation quite amusing, totally relaxed leaning against a bookcase in Eris’s study. 

“I have half a mind to order you two married!” Eris shouted to the walls. “Letting yourself be found in such a state.” 

Memories of that night still flashed in Azriel’s mind in the hushed darkness of the night when his mind was not so occupied. 

Adjusting her bodice, Thea cursed softly as she looked in the mirror. “No matter what I try, I’ll still look freshly fucked without rearranging my hair.” She fluffed the curls that had come loose. “I’ll have to use the servant’s passage to get back to my room.” 

Azriel quelled the smug satisfaction that rose in his chest. “You can fix your hair,” he said, leaning into whisper in her ear. “But you’re going to feel well-fucked for a week.” 

She shuddered at his words, leaning into his warmth and a heart-rendering beautiful smile curved her lips. With a tilt of her head and the slightest extension of her neck, she captured Az’s lips with her own, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good” she whispered back. 

Before anymore feelings rose in his chest, he cleared his throat and reached to open the door for her. His too-large frame seemed to invade so much of her space. Distracted by the proximity, he forgot to check the room before she glided out, Azriel hot on her heels – right into the sight of a passing pair of palace guards. 

“No need for marriage, brother,” she sighed out. “It’s not like I would have been a blushing bride anyways. All that got fucked out of me years ago.” 

Azriel whipped his head to her, astonished by the brazen comment. Rhys snorted a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough. And Eris just looked exhausted with her. 

“No matter the reality of your virtue, sister, you got caught this time!” 

“Father is dead, Eris,” she said, voice rising to finally show some emotion other than boredom. “So, unless you wish to have me flogged for my crimes then I suppose you’ll just have to contain this.” The last word hissed from between her teeth, likening her to a cornered house cat in Azriel’s mind.  

Azriel shifted in his seat, aware of the temper rising in Eris’s eyes. “No, Theodosia, I will not have you flogged for your crimes. But you have conducted yourself in a matter unbefitting your station and I will have youcontained if you continue to act like a fool.” 

“Contain me?!” 

Eris tiled his head as opposed to answering. 

Rhys cleared his throat, jumping in to save himself and Azriel from the uncomfortable tension of watching someone else’s family argument. “What can we do here, Eris, to resolve this?” 

Eris finally tore his angry gaze from his sister. “Keep it quiet on your end, for now.” Eris shifted his gaze to look at Azriel. “No bragging from the rooftops that you managed to bed a princess.” 

“There wasn’t a bed involved,” Thea mumbled under her breath so only Azriel might hear. 

Steeling his features in spite of Thea’s comment, Azriel nodded once at Eris, hoping that would be enough. 

“You were meant to help me, Thea,” Eris’s voice softened with disappointment. “I needed to be the positive refection of me you were for father.” 

Devastation clouded Thea’s face and Azriel wanted to take Eris by the shoulders. “I suppose I can’t count on you after all.” With that last stinging comment, Eris began walking towards the door, Thea’s eyes following after him, unspoken words hanging on her lips. Azriel rose as Eris departed. The click of the door latch seemed to be an arrow to Thea’s heart. Silver gathered in her eyes, and she quickly dabbed at her eyes before any tears could fall. 

She looked to Rhys and said, “Thank you for helping contain the story.” She rose and gave Rhys a quick curtsy before turning to Azriel. “You as well.” 

Pain flooded Azriel’s chest at the sight of her pained faced trying to hide behind a false smile. Not caring that Rhys remained, watching him closely. “Don’t listen to him,” Azriel found himself saying. “There’s no reason for him to be this upset.” 

“No, Eris is right, it pains me to say.” She sniffled. “I am a reflection on him and the court. Allowing myself to be caught up with you was reckless, for both of us.” 

Azriel couldn’t stop the hand that found her face. She couldn’t seem to stop the nuzzle into his palm. 

Rhys cleared his throat again, breaking the tension in the room once again. With some effort, Azriel made his hand fall back to his side. “Unless you have anything else, Princess, we’ll be going.” 

Thea took a few steps towards the door and showed them to the hall. “Thank you again.” 

“You shouldn’t let your brother have so much control over your emotions,” Rhys offered as he took Azriel’s arm before winnowing. 

“He’s my big brother,” Thea shrugged. “I can’t stand to disappoint him.” 

Rhys nodded before they were swept into darkness and shadow. 

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“I never thought I would see the day where you cared about a Vanserra’s feelings, Az,” Rhys crooned as they walked into the front entrance of the River House. 

Azriel knew the disappointment only family could wring from a soul. He wanted to take her in his arms and fly her far from there, rescue the young princess from her wicked older brother. He wanted to be someone’s knight in shining armor. 

Alas, his destiny lied in the shadows. He spent far too long as the Night Court’s dagger in the dark to transform into a shining knight now.

Azriel just sighed, the emotional confession cloistering deep in his chest. “He had no right to speak to her like that.” 

“By custom and law of the Autumn Court, he does have the right to speak to her like that, as cruel as it may have seemed. He also reserves the right, might I remind you, to demand you marry Princess Theodosia or pay her bride price and then some or risk going into a duel with Eris.” 

“I pick duel.” 

Rhys let out a sigh that only a long-suffering male should emit. “Nonetheless, try not to get caught with anymore princesses in compromising positions.” 

“Now there’s a story I need to hear,” Feyre said as she rounded the corner. “Do tell.” 

“Not my story, Feyre darling.” Rhys looked back at Azriel. “You’ll have to pester that one for more details.” 

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Darkness and peace had finally fallen across the world. The trees who had stood as faithful sentries outside her window and past the meadow now cast their long shadows, silver moonlight flowing through the trunks and branches to sketch their forms upon the waiting grasses. Thea spent unknown hours at her balcony, simply watching and marveling how the world changed each day. 

A whisper sent chills skittering down her back. Relying on instinct alone, she looked up to see the shifting of great wings on the rooftop far above her head. “Azriel,” she whispered. “I can see you.” 

A dark wind rustled the dressing gown she had draped over herself to step on the balcony. When Thea turned her head up and back, she found the Shadow Singer there, concern etching his fine features. 

“I came to see if you were alright.” 

“I will be,” she sighed. “Eris and I have always had a soft spot for each other.” She lifted on shoulder in a shrug. “He can’t stand to say no to me, and I can’t stand to disappoint him.” 

For a moment, it was all she could do to maintain the burning passion that lit his hazel eyes. “Why are you really here, Azriel?” Thea said, voice barley above a whisper. 

“Because I can’t seem to stay away.” The words ignited a spark in her heart that would never be doused by another. 

She fitted her perfect, pale hand to his. “Would it make me a terrible person if I tell you I don’t want you to stay away.” 

In response, he dipped his head to her cheek and pressed his lips over the soft rosiness she knew bloomed there at his gaze. Thea moved her head and found his lips, so soft and bitter like dark, unsweetened tea. 

Thea twisted her body, leading this warrior to her bed while never detaching her lips from his. For a moment she marveled at his allowance of such a following. 

She let her body sink onto the soft mattress one segment at a time. As though she lowered herself through a pool of amber sap, her knees found the bedding, followed by her hips, then her abdomen, then her chest, then her shoulders, then her head as she laid herself out for Azriel to do with as he wished. 

His towering frame rose over hers, blocking out the moon and her ribbons of silver drifting through the world. 

A hot needy pulse rattled her bones as Azriel kissed each inch of skin her revealed as the robe, the nightgown fell away. His clothes went somewhere because the next thing she knew he had his hot, naked body on top of hers. For a moment, she marveled at the stark contrast of his dark tan against her paleness. The proud length of him pressed into her belly as he worshipped her face, neck, and chest with languid kisses. 

“I am going to worship you, Theodosia. I am going to ruin you for every other male. The only name you’ll remember to scream is mine.” 

“Do it,” she begged. “Fuck me, Azriel. Rough. Just like before.” 

“No,” he said, still sliding his way down her body, hardness returning to his tone. “I decide how we do this. If I want to take you hard and fast, rutting into you like an animal, you’ll take it.” His kisses were on her tummy now and she hated the cold bareness of her chest without him. “But if I want to make this last, drag out your pleasure, then I will.” 

She could not find it in herself to disagree. 

He landed on his knees before the bed, great black wings framing the rest of his body, making him appear as a demon come to take her. He looked to her glistening wetness and suddenly a hunger overtook his features. Azriel wasted no more time before making a meal of her. 

Azriel licked and sucked and pushed into her, the sensation so overwhelming that she could barely decern what exactly he did. Before long, a tidal wave of pleasure found her, rushing through her body with such violence Azriel hissed in pain from where her hand gripped his soft waves. 

Then Azriel rose, sliding into her before the aftershocks of her first climax were through, pushing her over the edge all while telling her how beautiful, how whorish, how perfect, and how well she took him. She found her pleasure again quite easily. When Azriel found his, those great wings expanded and twitched with the expending. 

Azriel staying resting inside her, panting into her hair before easing himself free. Cleaning up only took a moment before they settled onto the pillows, Thea’s fiery hair splaying across his wing as she tucked herself into his side. 

Sleep was coming for her fast, dreams of soaring in the clouds waiting for her on the other side of night’s veil. The deep, even fall of Azriel’s chest told her he may find rest here as well. 

Let someone find them her, her last thought settled into her soul. She would happily face the consequences for another few moments with Azriel. 

The blinding light of day forced Thea’s eyes open, and she swore she could still hear the strong pulse of wings ringing in her ears. A single pink rose lay upon her bed side table and a note in delicate, sure writing. 

I’ll be back for you. 

The sudden blossoming in her chest of elation and anticipation had her rolling onto her back and sighing up at the painted ceiling. 

After her moment of girlish delight, she sat up straight as though pricked by a pin. Her thoughts raced as she rapidly came to a wonderous, disastrous conclusion. She was falling in love with Azriel. 

tag list:

A/N: Finally, this series is complete! After two years of not adding to it, I can finally call it done! To everyone who tagged along since the beginning, I hope that this ending makes you happy. Please enjoy!

C/W: allusions to sex, angst, tooth-rotting fluff

W/C: 1,400

Master List -- Fractured Bonds Part Four

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Ryn watched from the windows of her Winter Court home, waiting to spot her mate crest the eternally snowcapped hills. 

She had moved here about a year after Nyx came into the world. Everyone seemed so happy with their budding families or new-found purposes or whatever. 

A dullness had resounded in her after Eris trailed after his father at the end of the war, and didn’t take her with him. 

Rhys begged her not to go – she left anyways. She still visited Velaris, of course. Staying away from Nyx proved almost as impossible as staying away from Eris. Rhys knew why she moved as close to the Autumn Court border as she could get. That didn’t mean he had to like it. 

Somehow, the masking spell worked when they accepted the bond. If anyone had scented or seen the fully realized mate bond, no one said a word about it. 

Ryn made her mate a full Illyrain breakfast following their first night together. He ate; she watched. They made love until the day faded into night and then held each other until their hearts synced to the same pulse of life. 

Hell was watching him walk to the edge of the winnowing barrier and disappear from sight. 

He visited when he could, of course. But she longed for him every day. 

The last time Eris came to see her, he warned that he might not be able to return for some time. She knew why without Eris speaking it aloud. The plan was moving forward. 

She hadn’t prepared for three months without seeing him. 

Word had finally come two days ago – the reign of Beron Vanserra finally came to a painful end. She knew not the details of the coup, just that it had been planned since the end of the Second Hybern War. 

She kept her vigil at the windows ever since, scarcely leaving to attend to her needs. The servants coaxed her to eat a few bites here and there. But such worldly matters as food and drink did not compare to the dread pooling in her stomach thinking of what could be keeping Eris. 

Twilight started to fall over the landscape once again, casting the valleys of the hills in almost purple shadows. She would have to invite Feyre to see this view – it would make a lovely painting. 

Ryn felt it before she saw it. 

There was another reason she chose this window to keep her vigil – sprinting distance to the door. 

She took off as if she had been struck by a lightning bolt. 

Her slippered feet soaked to the bone the moment she threw open the door and launched herself into the snow. Eyes not finding Eris quick enough, Ryn used her magic to pull on the tether in her chest. 

She spun wildly to find its other end. 

Everything faded as her eyes landed on the lone, crimson-haired figure standing solemnly in the snow. In that moment, all that ever was and ever could existed in the hills outside their home. 

Of course, they ran to each other at the same time. They collided, slipped, fell into the snow, and kissed each other passionately – a scene straight from a romance novel. 

Ryn didn’t remember making her way down the hallway or through their bedroom door. The next thing she knew, she found herself pinned underneath Eris as he kept kissing her. 

Eris made their clothes vanish and seated himself inside her in pure desperation. Ryn let her body feel his movement while she lifted her soul to meet his. Ryn’s soul touched Eris’s, and nothing had ever felt more right in the world. 

They fell apart into each other, the shattered pieces of their respective personhoods falling into the same pool of existence, never able to be sorted into separate bodies again.  

Ryn began to cry. For what she didn’t know. Eris eased himself out of her and held her as her emotions ran free. 

Maybe she could dedicate her tears to the injustice of being kept from her mate, maybe to the boy still inside Eris that had to kill his father to know freedom, maybe to the simple fact that she could finally call herself happy, possibly for the first time since childhood. 

At some point, she slept. She woke to Eris’s beautiful face and made love to him again. 

“It’s all said and done then,” she said after she dressed. “He’s dead.” 

Eris silently shook his head in agreement from where he sat on the bed watching her. “I am the uncontested High Lord of the Autumn Court.” 

She let out a breath and smiled. 

“Now all that’s left is for me to claim my bride, make her High Lady, and sort my Court into something I’m proud to share with her.” 

“Claim a bride, you say,” Ryn smirked, walking over to where he still sat. “Did you have someone in mind?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Eris guided her head down to meet his and kissed her thoroughly once more.

---

ONE MONTH LATER

“I now renounce Kathryn Dannan and declare her reborn. Her Ladyship shall henceforth be known under the watchful eye of Our Gracious Mother as wife to His Eminence High Lord Eris Vanserra for as long as she may live, Mother bless,” the priestess continued. 

Apparently, Autumn Court weddings between nobility took a while. They had been standing then kneeling then standing again for the better part of two hours. And while her dress was stunning, it began weighing on her back and hips about four prayers ago. 

“Her Ladyship has been taken under the protection of His Lordship’s sword and hand. May the Mother bless their joining as fruitful in love and joy in the coming years. Upon this union, all titles, lands, and holdings thereof are bestowed in equality to Her Eminence High Lady Kathryn Vanserra. From this day on, Her Eminence shall possess equal authority and privileges befitting that of His Eminence as blessed to him by Our Gracious Mother.” 

The priestess paused, drawing in another deep breath. 

“By the light gifted to me by Our Gracious Mother herself, I now declare to all in heaven and on Earth that these two souls shall henceforth be bound in perpetuity. If it so please His Eminence, he may now claim his bride.”

And with that, Eris laid a chaste kiss on her lips as the crowd around them erupted in cheers and applause. 

Ryn blushed and turned to see Cassian lift his hand to his lips, a loud whistle echoing off the stone walls of the temple. Rhys wiped away tears between applause. And so did Mor. Nyx laughed from where he stood behind Feyre’s legs, head peeking out from around her skirt. Everyone had smiles on their faces watching them walk from the altar to the main doors. 

Eris and Ryn walked arm-in-arm to the white horse waiting outside the temple to lead the procession back to the Forest House. Before she took her mount, she swooped to grab Nyx by the shoulders and secured him on her hip. Eris lifted them both onto the animal with ease, gently caressing his face as he walked to take the horse’s lead. 

She hated to admit that the more Eris and Nyx interacted, the more intense her baby fever grew. 

“Does this mean I call you Uncle Eris now,” Nyx asked. 

“I think it does, nephew.” 

Nyx turned to look at Ryn with an open-mouthed smile. “Cool, another one!” 

Cassian must have heard because his laugh boomed over the din of the crowd. “So long as I’m still your favorite.” 

---

Drinks flowed, people danced, dogs got underfoot – the perfect wedding feast was well underway. 

So many people congratulated them it proved hard to keep track.

Despite the ballroom full of people, Ryn left herself lean into Eris as a wave of exhaustion came over her. 

“All well, lovely wife,” Eris asked. 

“Just tired,” she assured him. “I was too excited to sleep well and then I got woken up at dawn to start preparing.” 

“I’ll get you to bed soon then.” 

“Don’t worry,” she chided. “I’m sure you can keep me awake for any activities of your choosing.” 

She felt Eris grin again. “It won’t matter if I can keep you up tonight.” Ryn lifted her head to look him in the eye. “I have you every night for the rest of our lives.” 

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