#targwyn

for @elrielffs 🤍🐬

...but he was looking at her, at her teal eyes that gleamed like the water along Adriata’s shores.

She was singing a song that echoed in his soul, a whisper that only he could hear.

Whether you are an Elriel and Feysand (like me), Nessian, Elucien/Gwynriel, Neris, ErisElain, Vassien, Targwyn, Emorie, CassianBryaxis, CassianPollen, Idgaf. As long as you are a respectful and decent person please read this because what I’m about to bring up is bigger than who you want to end up with who. It’s about being a good person.

Some takes that I have seen are extremely harmful and I am not just talking about the infamous disgusting womb theory. I have recently seen another take that made me feel very disturbed and I am going to explain why.

The viewpoint that we shouldn’t view the abusers in the books like abusers in real life just because they are fictional is a deeply unsettling take and a very harmful way to think. It completely invalidates the real life experiences of victims. Characters are written to remind us of certain individuals that exist in real life, whether they be good or bad. In every book. Every book, there are characters that are synonymous to those in real life. That is simply a fact.

To say that Tamlin is not like someone’s abuser in real life because he is fictional and that you should separate fiction from reality is not only very wrong, but very harmful to say. There are people out there who have been in abusive relationships who have read about Tamlin and have seen the similarities between him and their own abuser. It is irrelevant that he is fictional because he portrays some real life abusers. If you say this, you are ignorant and downplaying peoples own experiences and trauma. It’s wrong. And If his actions in the books weren’t enough for you to see that he is very much not a good person and an abuser, the author herself has stated that he is an abuser. Maybe you’ll listen to the person who wrote the books since you don’t listen to those who have been abused and are reminded of their own abuse from Tamlin’s character.

Fiction and reality are one and the same. You cannot seperate them. Even in a catergory such as fantasy where reality looks so different from our own, the characters still represent people in real life. You will find similarities in every character whether it’s a character you see yourself in or a character you see your best friend in or someone who you hate in.

Just because ACOTAR isn’t shelved as non-fiction, does not mean anything. The characters will always represent people in real life even though their names may be made up, the world may be made up and the story may be made up. There is always going to be a connection to real life people and experiences, even if it’s not you who connects with them. Other’s will. Do not try to diminish their own experiences.

Gwyn and Catrin always loved to swim, the ocean called to them and they could always be found off the shore when they were younger.

Catrin, with her webbed hands, could always swim faster than Gwyn. Being young and insecure, Gwyn would retaliate that at she blended in with the High Fae more, unlike Catrin.

When Gwyn is older and her sister is lost to her, Gwyn confides in Tarquin about her sister and their younger days. The ocean, the swimming, webbed hands, being part lesser fae.

Tarquin gifts Gwyn webbed gloves in honor of her sister and for when she swims.

This is considering I want the next book after Elain’s to focus on Mor/Emerie.

Azriel eating Elain out.

Elain breaking her bond with Lucien and how that looks like.

Elain being petty towards people because she’s tired of being treated like a porcelain doll.

Elain using truth teller again.

Elain being a spy for the night court.

More Feysand + Nyx.

Nyx scenes with Elain/Azriel.

Secret relationship moments. I want them almost getting caught kissing, touches when no one is looking.

Koschei plot gets resolved, Vassa is free and she and Lucien get together.

Mor coming out to Azriel. Just Azriel, tho, her full coming out scene should be saved for her book.

Tarquin and Gwyn romance. Random but I love their crackship.

Elain and Azriel going to Rosehall.

Elriel wedding. Please sjm give us an on page wedding.

The revival of the Dusk Court.

Elain calling Azriel’s hands beautiful again.

Azriel being down bad for her. Love when mmc are pathetically in love with the fmc.

Elain going to the Spring Court and hating it there.

Rhysand gifting the town house to elriel, the same way he did with nessian and the how.

Rhysand apologizing and Elain tearing him a new one.

Sister moments between Elain, Feyre and Nesta.

More Nuala and Cerridwen.

How Elain’s visions work. More of her powers.

Not as much smut as acosf, I want the book to be fluffy.

Elain going to the mortal lands with Azriel and Graysen seeing how happy and beautiful she is and feeling like shit when he realizes he missed out on a beautiful and amazing woman.

Mor and Emerie’s surfacing romance.

☀️The Lord of Summer and the Lightsinger🌊

Of all the crackships in the ACOTAR world, I think my favorite is Targwyn. Both are young, kind, and optimistic. Both also take their individual roles very seriously, with Gwyn being in the process of becoming a Priestess. At the same time, Tarquin does everything in his power to be an excellent high lord despite everyone doubting him because of his age and inexperience.

Not only that, but I think Gwyn is perfect to work alongside Tarquin for his goal of making the high and lower fae equal, especially since Gwyn is 1/4 Nymph.

Their story would allow us to explore the Summer Court from an insider’s perspective.

☀️Possible Tropes☀️

~ Forbidden Romance between a High Lord and a lower fae

~ Revolution

~ Pen Pals

~ Friends to Lovers

~ Witty banter

Kinktober 2024: Bondage

Tarquin x Gwyn

word count: 1300

cw: seaweed bondage, Tarquin being sexy, Gwyn being a goddess, sex

"You're doing it too tight," Gwyn complained, squirming against the slimy ropes.

Tarquin chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"If you say 'red' I'll stop," he promised, his calloused thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of her wrists where the seaweed was bound around them.

The salty ocean air filled their ears as the waves whispered secrets along the shore.

Gwyn's gaze flitted around the dimly lit cave, the flickering light from the fire casting eerie shadows across the damp stones.

Her heart raced, and she bit her lower lip to suppress a whimper. She had always been intrigued by the thrill of danger, but now that it was real, she found her resolve wavering.

"Tell me you're okay," Tarquin said, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet space.

Gwyn took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea and the faint smokiness of the fire. She nodded, her eyes locked with his.

"I'm okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Tarquin leaned in closer, his breath warm on her cheek.

"But you're not, are you?" he whispered, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

Gwyn's pulse quickened as she felt his hands sliding down her arms, the coarse ropes biting into her skin.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, her voice breathy.

Tarquin's smile grew, a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Good," he purred, his voice like velvet in the stillness of the cave. "Fear is just the start of the fun."

He leaned in further, his nose grazing the shell of her ear.

"I want to hear you beg for it, love. Tell me how much you want me to make you feel good."

Gwyn's cheeks flushed, and she closed her eyes, letting the heat of his breath wash over her.

"Please, Tarquin," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "I need you."

With a low growl, he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, his hands continuing to explore the contours of her body.

He traced the line of her collarbone down to her breasts, his fingers teasing the fabric of her sodden dress. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, revealing the outline of her hardened nipples. With a flick of his wrist, the dress fell away, leaving her exposed to his ravenous gaze.

He stepped back for a moment, his eyes feasting on her trembling form.

The firelight danced across her skin, painting her in a warm, seductive golden glow. Her auburn hair only adding to the warmth of her bare pale skin, the sparkle of her freckles.

Gwyn felt a mix of vulnerability and power as she watched the hunger in Tarquin's eyes.

Suddenly, Tarquin's hand was at his waist, unbuckling his belt. With a swift movement, he revealed his thick, engorged cock, standing at attention, demanding her full attention.

It was a sight that made Gwyn's breath hitch in her throat. The anticipation grew as he stroked himself once, twice, watching her reaction with a smirk.

He stepped closer, pressing himself against her. Gwyn felt his hardness against her stomach and the heat of him seep into her.

The ropes had become a part of her, a constant reminder of her bound state, a delicious thrill of vulnerability.

His hands slid down her sides, lifting her hips to meet his, and she gasped into his mouth as his fingers found their way to her wet folds.

He teased her mercilessly, the roughness of his touch sending sparks through her body.

His thumb circled her clit in slow, deliberate strokes as his fingers slid inside her, filling her up, stretching her.

Gwyn's legs began to quiver, and she moaned against his mouth. He swallowed her sounds, his own breathing growing harsher, his movements more urgent.

The sensation of the binding around her wrists and the slickness of the seaweed against her skin heightened every touch, every sensation. The ache within her grew with each stroke, each kiss, and she arched her back, silently begging for more.

"Beg for it," Tarquin rasped, his eyes dark with desire.

Gwyn's breath hitched, and she moaned,

"Please, Tarquin, fuck me."

With a triumphant smirk, he grabbed her hips and spun her around, pushing her against the cold, wet cave wall.

She gasped as the chill of the stone sent a jolt of sensation through her body, making her even more aware of the heat between her legs. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing them apart, and she felt the tip of his cock nudge against her slick entrance.

Tarquin leaned down, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered,

"You're mine." He didn't wait for a response before he plunged into her, the suddenness of it making her cry out. The sound echoed through the cavern, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her bound hands scraped against the rough stone wall, her nails digging in as he began to move. His rhythm was unrelenting, his hips smashing into her with a primal force that she never knew she craved. The seaweed ropes bit into her skin, leaving a trail of fire that only added to the intensity of their union.

Gwyn's breath came in ragged gasps as she felt herself being claimed, taken in a way she had never been before. The saltwater still clinging to their skin created a slick friction that made her moan with every thrust. The cave walls seemed to pulse around them, the heartbeat of the earth in sync with their own.

"More," she whimpered, the word barely leaving her lips before it was swallowed by another moan.

"Harder, Tarquin. Don't hold back."

He chuckled darkly, the sound resonating through the cave, blending with the crash of the waves outside.

"As you wish," he murmured, his teeth grazing her earlobe before he bit down gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

Tarquin's grip tightened on her hips as he picked up his pace, pounding into her with a ferocity that had Gwyn's legs trembling. She could feel the ropes cutting into her wrists, the sting adding to the crescendo of sensations building inside her.

"Oh, Tarquin," she moaned, her voice echoing off the walls. "Yes, yes, yes."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuating the rhythm of their lovemaking.

The cave had become their sanctum, a place where the outside world didn't exist, where all that mattered was the raw, animalistic passion consuming them.

Gwyn's eyes fluttered closed as she lost herself in the feeling of him inside her, the ache in her wrists a constant reminder of their power play.

Tarquin's hands slid up her back, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer, his teeth nipping at her shoulder. The pain was a delicious contrast to the pleasure, and she found herself craving more.

Her walls clenched around him as she grew closer to the edge, the pressure building like the crescendo of a storm.

"I'm going to cum," she gasped, her voice a desperate plea.

"Do it," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Cum for me, Gwyn."

The words were all it took.

With a sharp intake of breath, Gwyn's body convulsed around him, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave, crashing against the shores of her sanity.

She screamed his name, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls, melding with the symphony of the sea outside.

Tarquin didn't slow down. If anything, he drove into her harder, feeling the tremors of her climax milk him deeper. Her pussy was tight, a vise grip that only served to spur him on.

He could feel his own release approaching, the pressure building at the base of his spine.

As Gwyn's moans subsided into panting gasps, Tarquin reached around her, his hands finding her clit again. He rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger, feeling her body respond immediately.

She was still sensitive, still ready for more.

"Again," he murmured, his voice a gruff demand.