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mrspettyferr · 3 years

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Reason 1035235 Book 5 is Elriel and Book 6 is Vucien

With the way these books are being written, one stand alone after another with an overarching plot, then ACOSF would need to not only center on a romance, but set up the next one. They need to show progress in some form. And if we go back, the whole point of ACOFAS was to give a little fluff, but also to set up the next few books. (SJM herself said seeds were planted in ACOFAS for the spinoffs.)

Now, I actually want to dive into Lucien's romantic setup. So we're going to look at Lucien and Elain, and Lucien and Vassa.

FYI, this post will be very long, because I wanted to highlight most if not all of their the scenes.

For reference: Lucien and Elain, Lucien and Vassa

ACOFAS

Lucien and Elain

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay, or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

- -

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle. No, she tended to her gardens here, silently mourning her lost human life. Mourning Graysen.

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

- -

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to.

Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.”

I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

- -

“She wants nothing to do with me.”

“Would you, if your positions were reversed?”

He didn’t answer.

- -

“Spend time with her.”

“I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.”

- -

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

- -

“He brought you a present.”

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

- -

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it.

“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.

Lucien and Vassa

But Vassa’s freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago, and still visited her often enough that I knew nothing in that regard had improved.

- -

“I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

- -

"I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

- -

“You’d be surprised to see how the three of us get along.”

Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends.

“So you’d rather stay with them?”

“I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours.”

- -

“That’s what we call ourselves. The Band of Exiles.”

- -

From these scenes, we essentially know Elain and Lucien have not progressed AT ALL. Elain still mourns Graysen, she wants nothing to do with Lucien, avoids him and is obviously uncomfortable around him.

Lucien on the flip side, isn't really trying to bridge that gap, but he's still hanging on and has some mate instincts regarding Graysen. He's not lost hope for her, but he's not really trying to push too hard either. (IMO out of respect, but also because of lack of interest beyond the bond.)

Conclusion: They're not being set up at this point. They haven't progressed, and his feelings technically aren't really genuine because it's not ELAIN he's interested in. It's his MATE. (Note, not his fault. Not blaming him for this. Just pointing out this is a more superficial "relationship" because its not based on an actual relationship, but a bond that neither chose for themselves.)

Lucien and Vassa on the other hand have made progress. They started off allies in war and are now friends. He's spent a lot of time with her, he's now living with her (and Jurian), and they have a name for themselves. He feels comfortable in the human lands with her and Jurian, unlike in the Night Court. (This is very important for Lucien's journey and I'll talk more about it in a second.)

Conclusion: Lucien and Vassa's relationship HAS progressed. It's moving forward, whereas Elain and Lucien are still stagnant. Friendship is a stepping stone in all of SJM's romances, so we can expect whoever Lucien ends up with, it will start with friendship. And at this point, Vassa is his friend, not Elain.

Now let's move onto ACOSF, because this is where SJM could turn things around, right? This is where she has to really start steering the ships in the right direction because the next books will focus on these relationships.

ACOSF

Lucien and Elain

There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa.

- -

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

- -

Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien.

- -

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

- -

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Lucien and Vassa

“Lucien can’t be entirely trusted anymore.”

Cassian started. “What?”

“Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.”

- -

"So Lucien can’t be unbiased in reporting to us on Vassa.”

- -

Mor winnowed Cassian after sundown directly to the manor that had become home and headquarters to Jurian, Vassa, and—apparently—Lucien.

- -

Vassa rolled her eyes, then looked to Lucien, who sank onto the sofa beside Jurian. Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them.

- -

Both Jurian and Lucien stared at her, the former’s face utterly unreadable, and the latter’s pained.

- -

Vassa nodded. “It is all I have gleaned from my time enslaved to him.”

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

- -

“And Jurian and Vassa?”

“At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply. She wondered what that was about—and for the life of her couldn’t read it.

- -

Elain and Lucien have still remained stagnant. Elain is even more uncomfortable--she sits as far away as she can, unlike in ACOFAS where she at least sat within talking distance--and she literally shrinks inward and loses her newfound boldness around him.

While Lucien showed disappointment and longing on Solstice, he's now showing actual discomfort, just like Elain. He's spending most of his time away, with Jurian and Vassa, and still isn't doing much to bridge the gap.

These two have, imo, sank further. They didn't just remain stagnant, they kinda backtracked even more. Why? Because at this point, we know Elain has seemingly gotten over Graysen and developed feelings for Azriel, and I think Lucien is developing them for Vassa.

We see a potential spark of jealousy regarding Jurian and Vassa. The manor isn't just theirs now--it's home for Lucien. (Something he was struggling with in ACOFAS, feeling like he had nowhere to go, no place to call home. Again, this is progress in their relationship but also in Lucien's journey. Remember, that's important.) It's pointed out that not only is Lucien voluntarily living with her, but he's so close with her that the Night Court doesn't think they can fully trust him to be unbiased on Vassa. Like he can't do his actual job because of her, and his relationship with her.

All of this is more progress on their relationship, emphasizing they've grown closer, he now has a home (with her and Jurian), and he's setting his target on Koschei, knowing she will have to return to him - THAT is all set up for his romance.

In conclusion, without even needing to dive into Azriel and Elain's progress over the series and obvious setup, we can see Lucien's journey has progressed with Vassa - his romantic setup is with Vassa. Not Elain.

And I didn't even go into the Swan Lake/Koschei parallels. But I'll just leave the post with this:

A bird of flame...and a lord of fire. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.

#elriel #vucien #elain x azriel #lucien x vassa #anti elucien

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lu-undy · 4 years

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I don't know if you would like this. But perhaps Spy being scared of the water cause he can't swim well. And then sniper is like. "I am a floatie now". Also your writing is lovely please never stop.

Hey there! Thanks a lot for your kind words :) ! Ok, here comes sniper “Look, I’m’ a floatie!” ;) I hope you’ll like it! :D

"Non, I won't follow you."

"Come on, the water's very warm and it's just you and me, there's no one around."

"Non, Sniper, please."

Sniper sighed and sat next to his now more-than-friend, under the parasol. They both were sitting on a wicker mat. Sniper was wearing a pair of swimming shorts while Spy was in his usual suit and tie.

"What's wrong?" Sniper scooted over to sit closer to Spy.

"I don't like water."

"You don't like water? What do you mean?"

"I don't like swimming."

"Why? It's nice. The water just carries you, it's relaxing."

"Maybe." Spy answered. "If you like it, go and have fun, I don't want to spoil it for you or hold you back."

"You're not spoilin' anything." Sniper laced his arms around Spy and almost whispered in his ear. "I just feel like… There's something you're not telling me, I don't know, there's something in that complicated head of yours that you're holding back."

Spy curled against Sniper's chest and the Aussie moved to sit behind him. He wrapped his arms around him and Spy leaned back against Sniper's chest, his head right below his jaw.

"You might be right."

"Tell me."

"N-non, I can't."

"Darl', listen, whatever it is, I can see that it's worrying you quite a bit. Look at you, your foot is tapping on the floor relentlessly and you're biting your nails like there's no tomorrow…"

Spy sighed and Sniper stuck his cheek against him.

"I just want to help, love." And he marked the end of his sentence with a quick peck on Spy's cheek.

"Mundy…" Spy put a hand on his face and let it sink down to his chin. "I am not sure any of us want to hear it. I will just keep it to myself. You go and swim, alright?"

"Nah, darl', can't leave you all worried here. You scared of the creatures in the water?"

"Non."

"You scared you'll have to remove your mask and someone sees you? If it's just that, you can keep it on."

"Non." Lucien shook his head.

"Uhm… It can't be that you're too prude to be in a pair of shorts, I've seen you entirely naked and," Mundy whispered. "I liked what I saw, you're gorgeous."

Lucien couldn't even smile.

"Love, please, just tell me." Mundy squeezed him tighter between his arms.

"Mundy, it… It's not easy."

"I know that much, you're stressed out like I've rarely seen you before."

"Does that make you anxious too?" Lucien asked.

"Nah, one of us worrying is enough. If you're the one who's being troubled by something, I'm here to comfort you, and make sure that you're fine. And as long as you're not fine, I'll stay with you."

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

Silence fell for a few minutes. They could only hear the occasional breeze and the waves gently rolling on the shore. The sea was mainly calm and warm as the summer sun had hit it constantly for the past few hot days.

"Lu'?"

Lucien's ears pricked up beneath the fabric of his mask.

"Hm?"

"What's wrong?"

Lucien sighed.

"I'm scared of it."

"Of the sea?"

"Not exactly. I just don't want to swim."

"Don't know how to swim?"

Lucien looked down at the mat between his thighs.

"Hey, luv', if it's only that, I can show you, it's not hard."

"I… I know the theory of it, but never managed to swim very well. I watched you from here and you look like a dolphin, you're not afraid of anything with the sea, it seems insane to me."

Mundy kissed his lover's cheek on the mask.

"Listen, you get rid of your suit and I'll show you, alright?"

Lucien turned and freed himself from Mundy's embrace. He sat on his knees but still averted his gaze from Mundy.

"Hey…" Mundy took Lucien's hand in his. "I want to help."

"Don't you find it ridiculous?"

"What? That you can't swim well? No, why would I?"

"At my age and with my-mh?!"

Mundy put his finger on Lucien's lips.

"Shh, stop worrying."

Their eyes met, one was ashamed, the other kind and benevolent.

"I don't find you ridiculous. I love you, so I find you gorgeous and irresistible, especially when you look at me with your pink cheeks and your piercing eyes."

Lucien smiled under Mundy's finger and the latter freed his lips.

"Now, I know you have a pair of budgie smugglers or somethin' underneath all that. D'you want me to help you get out of your suit?"

"Thank you, Mundy." Lucien's eyes were half open and three quarters filled with love.

"It's nothing, darl'."

In a few minutes, both were in swimming gear.

"Now, gimme your hand."

Lucien did as he was told and Mundy lead him to the shore. The waves and froth gently tickled their feet.

"How d'you find it?"

Lucien's back was hunched slightly.

"Scary."

Mundy squeezed his hand tighter.

"I meant temperature wise, luv'."

"I guess it is fine."

"Good. Let's take a few steps, ok?"

Mundy walked towards the sea and Lucien did the same, his hand clenched hard as steel on Mundy's.

"You're doing very well, darl', I'm proud of you, go as slowly as you want, I don't want to force you."

"M-Mundy… I can't go further."

Lucien stopped where the water reached his hips.

"Alright, we won't go further, I promise."

Lucien nodded in thanks.

"Listen here, we're lighter than water and look what we can do…"

Mundy laid on his back, on the surface of the water, his hand never leaving his lover's.

"Look, I'm a floatie!"

Lucien smiled.

"Very childish, mon amour."

[My love.]

"Maybe, but look, you have nothing to fear… You too can float, you know?"

"Non, I can't."

Mundy stood back up.

"Course you can, I'll show you. First, crouch down with me. Don't be scared, luv'-oh?"

Lucien pulled Mundy closer to himself and wrapped the Aussie's arms around him.

"Mundy…"

"Yeah?"

"I trust you with this. Please be careful."

Mundy smiled and nodded.

"Don't worry, I love you too much."

They both crouched down such that the water was right below their shoulders. Lucien had closed his eyes and he was frowning. Mundy pressed his forehead against Lucien's. He whispered.

"There you go, see? Nothing bad is happening. It's just you, me and the water. I'm holding you close and I'm not letting you go. Breathe slowly and relax, I'm here and I'm holding you."

Lucien took a deep breath and tried relaxing. But Mundy saw that he was still frowning and his breath was still fast.

"Can you open your eyes?"

"I can try."

"Look at me, don't look down if you don't want to."

Lucien opened his eyes and looked up at Mundy.

"I'll help you relax, ok?"

Lucien nodded.

"Now, close your eyes again."

As soon as Mundy saw his eyelids shut, he put his lips on his and stayed there. He gently kissed, very slowly, with his eyes opened and saw Lucien's eyebrows relax. His breath slowed down too.

"See, you can relax in the water."

Lucien opened his eyes and smiled.

"Merci. I didn't know you could kiss that gently."

"You like it?"

Lucien nodded. Over the course of their relationship, Mundy discovered that the cold-blooded assassin that Spy was, was in fact very soft deep down. He kissed him again.

"Wanna try and be a floatie too?"

"I'd like to, but I'm very scared."

"I promise to hold you and you can stand up on your feet whenever you want. Would that work?"

Lucien wavered for a while but eventually nodded.

"Fine but please, Mundy."

"Yeah, I'll hold you. First, stand up with me. There, good, now, I'll put one hand behind your neck and the other on your butt. You take a deep breath, fill your lungs with air and lie on your back. Don't worry, I got you…"

Lucien started bending backwards slowly.

"There you go, feel my hands behind you? Y'know I'm strong enough to carry you if things go wrong but they won't, cause you're listenin' to me and you're doing things slowly… There, look at you know! You're a floatie too!"

Lucien was lying on his back, on the surface of the water.

"Now, you don't need to fill your lungs with air that much. I'm holding you, I'm holding you… Breathe normally, there you go! Look at you, ya froggy floatie!"

Lucien's eyes snapped wide.

"Froggy floatie?!"

"And now you can speak too!"

"What do you mean?!"

"You're French, so you're a frog, and you can float. So you're a froggy floatie."

Mundy lightly tapped his lover's nose and that's when Lucien realised that he wasn't supported by him anymore. He tensed up.

"Relax, you've been on your own since the beginning. I just kept my hand on your butt cause I like it…"

Lucien rolled his eyes and smiled.

"If you like it so much, you may put it back."

"If you insist…"

Mundy put his hand back below Lucien's backside.

"What are you-?"

"You told me I could put my hand there, so I am."

Lucien felt Mundy's bare hand on his backside, his fingers caressing slowly underwater.

"You, Monsieur, are taking advantage of me."

"Well, go and complain then!"

"I will, you just wait."

"Who will you complain to, eh?"

"My lover." Lucien playfully answered. "He won't be happy go hear someone is having his way with me."

"Oh yeah, I think I know the bloke, he'll be furious. He doesn't like sharing, especially not his gorgeous man."

Lucien raised his hand and Mundy took it to help him stand up again. He hugged him dearly.

"Someone's all cuddly now, eh?"

"Oui, it's your fault."

"Was it my gropin' you or-?"

"Mundy, phrasing! I don't like that word." Lucien answered, his head against Mundy's chest.

"Call it what you want, I liked it."

"And to answer your question, non, your, uh, sensual touch is not responsible for this embrace."

"What then?"

"I am merely saying thanks."

"For what?"

"For helping an old man become a floating frog."

"It's a froggy floatie."

"Call it what you want, I like it." Lucien quoted Mundy and they exchanged a smile. "Can you help me swim now?"

"Yeah, of course. You not scared?"

"I haven't drowned yet so I think I can trust you."

"Oh, wow, you can trust me cause you haven't drowned, eh? Not because you find me handsome or sexy, or anything?"

"Oh, non…!" Lucien teased. "You are not anything of the sort."

"What?!"

"You are the sexiest man alive…"

Mundy smiled and bending down slightly, he kissed Lucien on his lips, hungrily.

"After me." Lucien finished his sentence and Mundy opened his eyes.

Lucien removed his balaclava and threw it away.

"I don't mean to show off. Just look at me."

Mundy wrapped his arms around the sexiest man alive indeed and kissed him deep and passionately. His hands slid on Lucien's back and under his swimming shorts to grasp his tender backside.

"Hm?!"

The first moan was surprised, the ones that followed, heated.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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otonymous · 5 years

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Proof Of Life (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: What will it take for you to finally notice Gavin? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: breakups, near death experiences, physical aggression, violence Word Count: 2846 words (~14 mins of smut, hurt-comfort) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: Hi everyone! I got a few requests for a NSFW MLQC Gavin story, so here it is! Hope you all enjoy it, and happy reading! 😊

Tagging: @kitsune-mana @shogetsus @illysanna

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Several sharp knocks on your windowpane tell you all you need to know about who you would find once you opened your eyes. But you were glad you remembered to draw the blinds the night before, because the last thing you wanted was for Gavin to see you as you are now: hair a messy nest, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, and yesterday’s outfit a wrinkled mess on your body.

“Why can’t he use the goddamn door like a normal person?!” You think in irritation as you drag yourself out of bed, running a hand over your hair and pulling on a house robe before you snap back the curtains.

Sure enough, there he was, the officer smartly dressed in his uniform and giving off an air of authority despite the nonchalant way he leaned against the ledge of your balcony, a plastic bag in hand. Mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, you swallow hard before sliding open the glass door.

“Good morning, Gavin. It’s kind of early—“

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

He says, immediately brushing past your shoulder to enter the room. A gentle breeze follows him, ruffling the curtains as he had so often ruffled your hair. And as he casts his gaze on the mess that is your apartment, you shudder to speculate on his thoughts about your current living conditions: lopsided piles of notebooks sprouting across the floor, clothing strewn haphazardly across your unmade bed and couch, and empty cup noodle containers littering the kitchen.

Bringing your hands to your face and wishing you could hide forever behind them, you massage your temples, hoping to ease the building tension that would surely worsen once Gavin opened his mouth to speak the same lines he had been repeating for the past few weeks since —

“Lucien has left. The man is gone, he’s not coming back. And nothing you do is going to change that. So why do you keep torturing yourself like this?”

He turns to look you square in the face, the usual warmth of his eyes replaced by burning indignation on your behalf, flashing with anger that you yourself still could not bear to direct on the man who disappeared without a trace, leaving nothing but an empty apartment and an equally empty promise to never leave your side.

Gavin was right. Of that fact, there was no doubt. But still, you could not help but feel compelled to continue seeking out the dark-haired genius who captured your imagination and stole your heart from the very moment he told you to trust your instincts.

The heart wants what it wants.

And so you threw everything into trying to locate Lucien, foolishly allowing the rest of your life to devolve into little more than subsisting on the barest of necessities.

The officer’s face softens at your silence, broad shoulders dropping as he finally relents and thrusts out the plastic bag he had been holding, the most delicious aroma wafting from within to remind you of your hunger.

“Your favourite breakfast combo from the place up the street: congee and shrimp rice rolls. All those cup noodles can’t be good for you.”

You fight back the sting of tears when you take the bag from him, hoping his sharp eyes will miss the shake of your hands as you open the styrofoam containers, saying,

“Thank you…Gavin.”

Lips tugging up into a small smile, he reaches out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear before saying, “Hurry up and eat. I’ll give you a lift to work.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So it was that weeks became months and verdant summer bled crimson into fall, and every time the wind whipped past you on the back of Gavin’s motorbike, your grip on the professor loosened until you learned what it was to let go of another important person in your life.

You had no more leads to follow when it came to Lucien’s whereabouts, and even his peers at the research institute were at a loss to explain the professor’s sudden sabbatical leave.

But through it all, Gavin stayed by your side.

He was there when the last of your hopes had been dashed, fingers intertwining with yours to tentatively squeeze in solidarity as you left Loveland University with more questions than answers. It had been his arms that held you in their firm embrace when you threw that jar against the wall, the glass shattering to litter your apartment floor with tiny folded cranes and even tinier shards of glass. The officer had watched, silent and solemn, as you cried for Lucien one last time, reaching out hardened hands to brush away your tears with the softest of gestures.

The school terror had become your constant companion, and the windblown smell of his denim jacket a source of comfort: warm and familiar whenever Gavin unceremoniously draped it over your shoulders as soon as you showed signs of feeling chilled in dropping temperatures.

But the seasons weren’t the only thing to change.

Little by little, you began to notice things about him that escaped you before: smiles that lit up his face just as he’d turn from your direction, the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks whenever you thanked him for escorting you home. The way you felt to see him linger on the street below your apartment, waiting for you to wave through the window before finally riding off into the night…all despite having seen you to the door.

And each and every time your heart skipped a beat, the flutter scared you. For although you had given up on Lucien, the wound of losing him was still painfully fresh, and it was not lost on you that Gavin had been the one to patiently draw you out from that place of darkness where you had been wallowing.

But what if lightning struck twice?

Would you lose Gavin too, the way you lost Lucien?

The thought was too much to bear — to lose a lover but also a friend — so you chose not to think, ignoring it like you ignored the longing in his hazel eyes every time you shut the door without inviting him in, your fingers tracing the golden ginkgo leaf on your wrist that still held the heat of his touch.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It all happened in breathtaking clarity, as if time had slowed enough for you to see Gavin whip between yourself and the man in black — the scent of blood permeating the air as a bullet burned through flesh and nylon before embedding itself into a brick wall.

By the time Minor’s face appeared before you — eyes wide and lips moving a mile a minute — you heard not a word he said, so fixated were you on the crimson marring the pristine white of Gavin’s windbreaker, the radius of this ugly spot growing larger each time his bicep flexed to handcuff the suspect pinned beneath his knees.

Yet, in the resultant commotion, the officer’s eyes sought yours to confirm your well-being even though he had been the one to sustain an injury. And it isn’t until his brows furrow in concern that you realize you had been shaking from head to toe, your body acutely processing your fear before your mind could even catch up to what it was that scared you:

Gavin hadn’t even been wearing his bulletproof vest when he moved to cover you without a second thought.

Minor drapes his jacket over your shoulders, drawing you from your reverie.

“It’s okay bro, I’ve got the boss! You go ahead and take care of that scum…and your arm too! Get to the hospital!”

“Where the hell were you, idiot?! Didn’t I tell you not to leave her side?!”

Minor slinks behind you, trying to hide from Gavin’s scowl.

“I turned around for one second and she was gone, I swear! How was I supposed to know the boss would go running after a little girl crossing the street and get attacked by this loser?”

“Screw up again and it’s your last time!”

“Okay, okay! Whatever you say, bro!”

The exchange between Minor and Gavin was typical, and as a member of this triad of Loveland High alumni, you were usually amused by their antics. Currently, however, you could barely find the strength to speak, let alone laugh.

So you let Minor escort you home in the officer’s stead, craning your neck to stare at Gavin’s retreating figure through the rear window as the car pulled away from the scene of the crime, feeling less shaken by your brush with danger than the one thought that torturously echoed through your mind:

Gavin could have died.

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Patient.

He really was so patient. Much more than you deserved.

For Gavin remained still as a statue as your hand wound about the collar of his white tee, the other scrunched into a fist that beat repeatedly into the hard plane of his chest. Even still, it was from your eyes that tears spilled, ceaseless and hot…eyes that saw only Gavin.

You knew it now, felt it deep in your bones from the moment your fear of losing him stole your reason to turn desolation into blinding fury, one that made you rage the second you saw him at your door. And with one yank on his denim jacket, you had pulled Gavin into your apartment, pushing him until he lost balance and ended up on the couch with you straddling his lap, fists flying with wild abandon.

“What were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of me?! Who the hell do you think you are?! Superman? Are you invincible?!”

Thud. Smack. Thud.

The officer sits without reacting, stoically taking every shot you have to deliver.

“Why would you go that far, Gavin?”

The heat of your anger finally dissipating through sore fists, the question leaves your mouth in a whisper — tears dripping down your face to glance off the apple of Gavin’s cheek before they, too, trace the lines of his jaw.

“You know why.”

His voice is low and raspy, and you wilt under the intensity of his gaze, turning your face away before you drown in the depths of his eyes, dark with emotion.

“Don’t look at me, I’m a mess.”

Calloused fingers gently tilt your chin back in his direction, Gavin saying,

“You’re always beautiful…but even more so when you’re crying for me.”

He sweeps a thumb across his cheek, gathering your tears to bring them to his mouth, and you are entranced by the pink tongue sweeping out to taste the salt of your frustration.

“Even your tears are sweet, just like you.”

“Gavi-“

The name barely leaves your lips before it is swallowed up by the soft plushness of his, the officer angling his face in a bid to move even closer, tongue exploring your mouth with an unfathomable hunger that leaves you breathless.

Losing yourself in his kiss, you feel the press of his solid chest against your breasts as he shifts to lay you on the couch beneath him. And when he pulls back to rip the jacket from his shoulders, the white tee thrown off in one frenzied motion, your fingers seek the heat of his skin, desperate for proof of his existence.

Desperate to confirm that Gavin was alive.

He clasps your hands, pressing a reverent kiss to each palm before bringing them to his face, allowing them to slide past his Adam’s apple, down the broad smoothness of his chest, running along the muscular grid of his abdomen…until they stop at the leather belt looped around the tantalizing V that drew your eyes to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Feel me. I’m here with you — always have been and always will be. Don’t be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

A flood of relief stings your eyes anew, and panic flashes across Gavin’s face for an instant before he bend over you once more, whispering as he kisses your tears away,

“Shhh…it’s okay…it’s gonna be okay…”

Never in your life did you imagine this would happen, that you’d have the boy feared for his pugilistic skills lying between your legs, hands roaming hot and hungry over the curves of your body but, frustratingly, keeping above the silk of your blouse.

Hence, you took it upon yourself to undo the buttons, fixated on the bob of Gavin’s throat as his eyes followed the minute motions of your fingers, the officer’s lips parting in awe to see your breasts heaving with anticipation beneath your bra until that, too, was discarded. His voice reaches out like the touch of a tentative hand when he says,

“This is more than I’ve ever dreamed of, but...are you sure this is what you want?”

Through a rapturous haze, you watch as flecks of gold melt in the warmth of hazel eyes that examine you carefully, searching for any sign of hesitation. And that’s when you knew you didn’t have to hold back.

Wrapping your arms around Gavin’s neck, you draw him closer to whisper in his ear,

“I love you.”

The sudden ruffle of your curtains startles you, as do the papers on your desk that swirl like leaves caught in a fall wind before settling to the ground in a messy pile. And when Gavin gently cups your face to refocus your attention, the last thing you see before his lips seal upon yours is the exhilarated joy that lights his face from within, the officer softly laying his reply onto the corner of your lips:

“I’ve always loved you.”

Biting into your fist, you try to keep your moans from escaping when you look down to see Gavin kneeling on the carpet, strands of silken brown hair tickling your belly with the slightest movement of his head between your legs, his large hands stroking the length of your thighs to leave trails of goosebumps in their wake.

Each time his tongue flattened to run along the pink flesh of your folds, trembling and wet, you slid further down the couch until your legs found the support of Gavin’s shoulders and his hands gripped your buttocks to knead and spread — lips and tongue continuing to taste your arousal with gusto until it smeared shiny across his face.

And when the tension built to reach its apex with every flick of his tongue on your clit, Gavin kept you suspended on that high until he inserted one finger…then two, to curl within your depths and pull the trigger on your climax. You came violently, convulsing around his hand and bucking into his face as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, ripping the moans from your mouth and adding another shade of crimson to his cheeks.

The officer stands, one hand whipping off his belt as the back of the other wipes across his shiny lips. You barely have time to gasp as you take in the sight of his sizeable erection before Gavin is wrapping your trembling legs around his tapered waist.

“I’ve wanted this…”

The heat of his cock is searing as Gavin presses against your pussy, smooth head sliding up and down the length of your folds to gather the arousal that dripped in abundance even as you continued to twitch from your orgasm.

“…wanted you…”

Pressure, as he pushes insistently for entry. The stretch of your skin when you start to take him within your body, accommodating the man who was willing to die for you.

“…for so, so long.”

Gasp.

Your eyes roll back when he finally sheathes himself within you, the officer’s breath coming in pants moist and hot by the side of your face. He hisses through clenched teeth to feel the scrape of your nails down his back before he recovers to say,

“Could you cry for me again?”

With that, Gavin thrusts deeply into you to bury himself to the hilt, each stroke from his powerful hips reaching greater depths than the last until your eyes watered from sheer intensity of sensation, mouth falling open in a silent scream before it is sealed by his lips.

Every bead of sweat that rolled off his shoulders to evaporate from the heat of your skin. Each muffled groan against the shell of your ear. The slippery friction that moved within you to send you to ecstatic, new heights. All these things told you, without a doubt, that Gavin lived.

And when he finally shudders, you spasm to feel the heat of his release, convulsing around him for the second time to draw him closer to you than ever before.

Pressing his forehead to yours as he slowly descended from his high, Gavin says, “It’s true. I meant every word I said.”

You nod, kissing him in response. For the thunderous beat of his heart already told you everything you needed to know:

Gavin is alive. And he is yours.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #MLQC Gavin #mlqc baiqi #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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transfluvial · 3 years

Text

Henrik Koffmann meets the Devil

"Henrik?"

He woke up with a startled gasp. Confused, he looked around the room, feeling as if someone had put his insides through a meat grinder. It was brightly lit - in fact, so brightly he couldn't actually see much. He recognized two vaguely humanoid shapes, one sitting beside him and one at the edge of the room, near something he didn't know what to make of.

"I see you are having some difficulties to adapt," the person beside him remarked. "It is quite normal for you to feel this way, Mr. Koffmann. Most humans do."

Henrik groaned.

"Who the hell are you?", he spat out. "Where is this...?"

"Calm down, Henrik," said a very familiar voice. "I brought you here, don't you remember?"

"What...? Crow, is that you?"

He chuckled in response.

"It appears you are already familiar with my husband," the person who was not Crow said. "Then I'll leave the formalities behind us."

They moved their hand, and the room became way more plausibly lit.

"The light was hurting you, was it not?", they continued. "I apologise for that."

Henrik looked around the room once more. Crow was leaning against an old, wooden cabinetry with some bottles of alcohol and a few cups on it. The person - did they say they were Crow's husband? - smiled politely in their chair.

"My name is Astaroth," he said in a soothing voice, "although I am mostly referred to as just Roth around here."

Henrik felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could finally think clearly, and his memories came back in a torrent in his mind.

"Are you...?" he said to Roth, but couldn't manage to finish the phrase. No, that person couldn't be Lucifer, could he? "What are you?"

"A demon," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Henrik could hear Crow scoffing in the background.

"Where am I?", he finally asked.

"You are in the Spiritual Plan, Henrik." Roth turned to his husband, "With the power of our Headmaster, Crocell has brought you here."

"You could say this is kind of a meeting room of ours," Crow remarked.

"I apologise for the delay in His arrival," Roth said. "I'm sure he'll be here soon enough."

"Alright," Henrik murmured, the absurdity of his situation having not yet dawned on him.

He tried looking behind his chair, but was pushed back in place by an invisible hand.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Crow explained.

"Why?"

"It's just the usual procedure," Roth answered.

Realizing their guest was visibly very uncomfortable, the couple exchanged looks between one another, and then Roth cleared his throat.

"Would you enjoy a drink, Mr. Koffmann?"

Henrik took a while to notice someone was talking to him.

"Uh, what?", he said, his mind in a completely different place.

Roth smiled.

"Can I offer you a drink?" He made a subtle gesture with his head towards Crow. "We can get you pretty much anything you want."

Henrik nodded.

"Uh, whiskey, then."

"The same, love."

Crow promptly poured two cups of whiskey on a tray and took it to the two men sitting down.

"Our Headmaster..." Roth sighed. "He is unusually late today."

"You, uh, seem to be very close to him."

"Oh, yes, we are a triad, me, Crow and him."

"A... triad...?", Henrik repeated, incredulous.

"We have been together for a long time," Crow said in his matter-of-fact way of his. "Everything we do, we do together. Everything we plan, we plan together."

"We have taken a liking to you, Henrik. You're... different."

"Special."

Henrik grimaced at these words.

"I don't like where this is going...", he murmured to himself.

"Have we got the wrong of you, dear guest?", a voiced echoed in the room from behind them.

Both Crow and Roth smiled.

Henrik gasped loudly. He felt a shiver down his spine. Something had changed in the atmosphere of the room at His arrival - it felt as if it had suddenly been filled with some dense gas, and he found it hard to breathe.

"When I say this," He continued, as He approached them, "I don't mean it in the way that your father did it."

Another audible gasp escaped Henrik's lips.

"How could you possibly know that?", he spat between his teeth.

"Why wouldn't I?", He replied, amused. "Do you know who I am?"

"So you really are Lucifer." Henrik could barely muster anything out of his mouth.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Correct," he purred. "Do you know why you were called here, Henrik?"

"It looks like you have some sorta 'plan' for me?"

"You could say so." Lucifer sat right in front of him. "But only if you agree to it, of course. I don't plan on forcing you to do anything, Henrik. It's your choice."

"Bullshit. Can I choose to refuse?"

Lucifer shrugged.

"Are you willing to find out?"

"Nope." Henrik shook his head violently. "What's it gonna be?"

"Take it easy, child," He smiled. "I have a lot in mind for you. But, first, I'd want you to be my Consul, Henrik Koffmann."

Henrik's eyes shot open.

"Consul?" He couldn't help but burst in laughter. "Consul as in that kind of Consul?"

"Yes," Lucifer smiled patiently.

"You, uh, you do know I'm an antimage, don't you?"

"I do."

"So... Why?"

"Hmm, I have my own reasons. But I'd like to let you know that we have, indeed, been watching for a while."

"Wait, were you listening?"

"What I'm trying to say is," He raised his voice a bit, "I like you, Henrik. I really, really like you. And I like your sister."

"Henrietta?"

"I've had my eyes on her for a while, too..." Lucifer smiled. "She's really interesting."

"Okay, what the hell do you want to do with her?"

"Oh, the same as you. I want the both of you to be under my guidance."

"Guidance? Henrik raised an eyebrow.

"Precisely, guidance," Lucifer replied, staring at Henrik's eyes. "I think the both of you have an incredible potential, and I'd like to personally help you refine your skills."

"This is so hard to believe," Henrik sighed, his hands on his tempers.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Let us start by dropping these useless formalities, shall we?" He chuckled. "My name is Lucien Lefèvre. Please feel free to call me just Lucien, alright?"

Henrik nodded, speechless.

"These two," he gestured to the couple with his hands, "I'm afraid you already know them. They are my partners, and my dearest friends. Each one is a part of me on their own."

"You may want to think of the entity Lucifer as you know it as a junction of three of us, Henrik," Roth explained. "Although, for obvious reasons, our Headmaster claims the title alone."

Lucien nodded.

"I'd like to take you somewhere, Henrik." Lucien reached out his hand to Henrik. "Could I?"

Henrik shrugged. At that point, nothing could get more absurd than it already was. As soon as he took Lucien's hand, he was transported to another place.

He took a while to adjust to the sudden change, but he recovered way quicker than the first time. When he opened his eyes, he found the confused gaze of four other people - two ghouls, a vampire and... another person, whose species he couldn't recognize.

"Henrik...?", one of the ghouls called.

"Igor?!"

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?", a ghoul girl yelled, her hands on her hips.

All members of the triad laughed.

"These, Henrik, are the other ones I have gathered in this little project of mine," he gestured to each of them in order as he said their names, "Anastasia, Eleanor, River and Igor, whom you're already familiar with."

"Wait, these people aren't mages."

"Do they have to be?" Lucien chuckled. "The only one who's going to be officially part of my clan is you, though. Those are my esteemed allies, and also a small group of resistants."

"Who is she?", he pointed at River.

"She's just like your sister, Henrik. One of a kind. She and I have known each other since she was a child."

The woman blushed.

"My name is River Marlowe Simmons," she said, her voice surprisingly powerful. "I don't know who you are, but I have a feeling that we're going to see each other quite a bit from now on."

He could see the woman smile at him before, all of a sudden, she and the rest were gone, and they were all back at the tiny shed. Igor was sound asleep on the sofa.

"So, Koffmann," Lucien took a step into Henrik's personal space, "do you accept to be a part of my little project?"

"This is all the info I'm gonna get from you now, isn't it?"

Lucien nodded.

"If you accept, we'll naturally tell you more about all of this as we go on."

Henrik sustained Lucien's - Lucifer's - gaze with confidence he himself didn't know he had. It was all so damn absurd, he felt as if he was trapped in a fever dream.

But what else did he have, anyways? He'd lost everything he could've ever possibly wanted in his life, and his desire to get revenge on his father has never been bigger. Also, he could have Igor.

Fuck it, Lucifer himself was asking him to be part of his clan. That's all he had to know.

Without even a second more of hesitation, he shook Lucien's hand.

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doctoraliceharvey · 5 years

Note

Request for a Malice fic where Matthew has to go to Melbourne for a case and Alice is out of sorts because she misses him. Happy reunion ending please 😍

here you go, nonnie! I put it in the Baby Lawson universe (hope you don’t mind, it fit really well) - Dee

Wandering Thoughts

AO3 | FF.NET

---

"You alright, Alice?" Lucien's voice - and his hand upon her shoulder - jolted her from her thoughts.

"I'm… I'm fine," she nodded, diverting her attention down at the paperwork in front of her.

"You don't sound fine."

Alice rolled her eyes and gave Lucien an exasperated look - he was immune to it now that they practically saw each other all hours of the day.

(Alice really needed to make a start on finding a new house for her and Matthew; she loved the Blakes, but she loved her own space more.)

"Is it because Matthew's in Melbourne?"

She clenched her jaw - the thin gold band of her wedding ring weighing heavy on her hand and heart. Matthew had been called back to Melbourne fairly quick after their week-long honeymoon in the city (why they couldn't have just asked him to stay was something that bugged Alice to no end - she had vacation time saved up, or she could have helped out Mac at the university for a bit). They needed him on a case up there and while he was certain it wouldn't take long - a promise sealed with a kiss on the train station platform as his hand brushed against her growing bump - the days turned into weeks and Matthew had been gone almost a month now.

Oh, he called when he could - Alice staying up far later than she should, her toes growing cold in Lucien's study as she and Matthew talked until she couldn't stop the yawns every other word. But it wasn't the same as having him here. It wreaked havoc on her sleeping schedule, she tossed and turned more at night, and while her blood pressure was fine - Alice knew both the Blakes were worried about her.

She wanted Matthew; she wanted his warmth, to feel his calloused hands against her body and hear his low, rumbling voice in the early morning as he talked to her and their unborn child. She wanted her husband, but the higher ups in Melbourne weren't done with him yet.

She slumped down on a stool and sighed, "I… I miss him."

"He's your husband, it's natural to do so."

"I just… I know that he's doing this for work, that it's good for him, but… Ballarat doesn't feel like home without him."

Lucien sat on the other stool next to her - his hand rubbing her upper back gently, "He'll be done soon, Alice. Matthew's just as antsy to get home as you are for him to come back."

He leaned in with a wry grin, "I don't think he likes big cities all that much."

Alice laughed, "No, not really. At least not Melbourne. He's been catching up with his sister and mother though, sometimes I talk with them on the phone if Matthew's called out for a later shift."

"That's good! Getting to know the in-laws and all that. How about we finish up here with Mrs. Dunlop and call it a day, hm? Jean's busy with her campaign, but I know she'll probably have a good dinner on the stove at home."

Alice smiled and nodded. Together, her and Lucien finished up the autopsy (natural causes, more her field house than Lucien's, but with no active case at the moment, he was helping her out in the morgue when he didn't have patients) before they headed home.

It was still odd to walk into 7 Mycroft Avenue and call it home, but it was her home now. There'd been some whispers - some snide remarks - at Alice moving in before she and Matthew married, and more after the Lawsons stayed after the wedding. Alice held her head high - ignoring all of it, hiding her shaking hands when the talk turned to her expanding waistline.

(Those whispers, the ones that speculated on her condition and the reasoning behind her and Matthew's hasty wedding, were the ones that hurt the most - they hurt more with Matthew not here.)

She smoothed a hand over her bump - smiling softly when she felt a flutter in response as they arrived in the driveway.

"Baby Lawson already dancing in the womb?" Lucien grinned and parked the car.

"Yes, they've been very active since the honeymoon. When will others be able to feel them move?"

"Soon, very soon. I hope you've been practicing your glare, Alice, because people are going to want to touch the belly."

"I'd like to see them try," she huffed as Lucien laughed. He got out and opened her car door for her - lending her a hand to pull herself up with. Alice sighed, "I've got how much longer with this little tyke in me?"

"You're only halfway through."

"Ugh," she sighed again as they walked through the front door. "I'm over it."

Lucien laughed and helped her out of her coat as Jean leaned out of the kitchen.

"Dinner's almost ready, you two, go wash up and Lucien if you could set the table afterwards? Rose and Danny are on their way now."

"Of course, my darling," He kissed Jean on the cheek with a smile that left Alice's heart aching.

She hid the hurt throughout dinner - though she did notice Jean and Lucien exchanging looks as she idly played with her food throughout the lively discussion with Rose and Danny over old cases and stories. Everything felt muted and off as she and Jean washed the dishes - Alice barely felt the kiss on the cheek from Rose as her friend (niece? she was technically Alice's niece now) bid her goodnight.

"Why don't you go have a bath, Alice?" Jean suggested quietly. "It'll help you relax."

She wouldn't relax until Matthew was home, but Alice nodded with a faint smile. Jean ran the bath for her - putting in lavender scented bubbles - and pressed a kiss to Alice's forehead once she settled in the bath.

"Relax, Alice, I'll come get you out before you prune."

The lavender filled her senses and the bath water wrapped her in a warmth that made her feel drowsy. Alice rested her hands on the bump and gently rubbed it as she closed her eyes.

(If she willed hard enough, she could almost feel Matthew's arms around her)

Alice sighed - she didn't used to be like this. Time was, she was happy to be alone, she could sleep alone and wake up feeling refreshed. Now, Alice couldn't sleep well without Matthew's familiar warmth and weight in the bed next to her. Now, the bedroom was too quiet without his snuffling snores or his low chuckle in her ear as he teased her awake with kisses.

Matthew Lawson had ruined her - and Alice loved him for it.

"Hand inspection, Alice," Jean teased as she popped her head into the bathroom.

Alice smiled and lifted her soaking wet hands from the bath for Jean's perusal.

"Hm, just starting to wrinkle. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to fall asleep in the tub."

"Mm, can't have that, can we?" Jean reached down and pulled the plug. She helped Alice stand and wrapped her in a fluffy towel. "C'mon, into pajamas and then into bed for you."

She didn't fight Jean's motherly coddling, instead she leaned against her friend - suddenly more tired than she originally thought she was - and listened to Jean's soothing voice as Alice dressed in her pajamas and wrapped herself up in Matthew's heavy dark green bathrobe.

"Would you like some company?" Jean smoothed back Alice's hair from her face with a warm smile.

Alice shook her head, "No… I think I'll try reading before I go to sleep, Jean, but thank you."

"How about some ginger tea then, and a bit of shortbread in case you get a craving for something sweet?"

Alice's heart warmed at Jean's generosity and she nodded.

"Thank you, Jean… I know I haven't been the most… engaged lately."

"You're worried about Matthew, that's understandable, Alice. I'd be exactly the same if it were Lucien. You're family, and family takes care of each other even if we're out of sorts."

Jean kissed her forehead and left the room. Alice flipped to her bookmark and read without actually processing the words on the page. Voices out in the hallway drew her attention from the same paragraph she'd been trying to read at least five times and Alice leapt to her feet when she heard Matthew's familiar timbre.

Lurching to a stop at the end of the hallway, Alice clung to the wall when she saw her husband by the front door - nodding along at Jean's idle chiding, his shoulders slumped in the way they did whenever he was exhausted - and a holdall at his feet.

He was home.

"Ah, there she is," Jean smiled when she noticed Alice lurking. "Go on, I'll fix up the tea for both of you."

Matthew squeezed Jean's shoulder and started down the hallway towards Alice. Alice willed her feet to move and practically ran into his arms; he let out a faint chuckle as they teetered for a second - Jean steadied them both as Matthew held Alice tight and Alice wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're home," she let out a shuddering sigh - a few tears slipping out to dampen his collar.

"I am. The case is done, I'm home and I'm not leaving again any time soon."

She sniffled and held him tighter, "Good."

"I'm sorry I had to leave you, sweetheart," Matthew pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"I know you didn't want to, Matthew."

He pulled back and kissed her gently - wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Next time, I'm saying no."

Alice shook her head, "Don't do that, Matthew. It's your job."

"And you're my wife, you're more important."

She cupped his face with her hands, "I don't want you to throw away your career for me. We've got more than each other to think about."

---

He leaned his forehead against hers as she pulled one of his hands down to the bump where their child grew. Matthew sighed as he drew strength from his wife and their unborn baby - Alice was right, Baby Lawson was joining them in little over four months and they'd need both incomes to raise the baby (and buy a new house). He couldn't afford to say no to Melbourne, but he also didn't want to be away from his loved ones that long again.

"How about, the next time you have a case in Melbourne, I see if Mac needs help and come up with you?"

"Even after the baby's born?"

Alice shrugged with a smile, "It'd be an adventure for Baby Lawson."

Matthew pictured Alice in the morgue with their child in a sling against her chest - Alice bouncing slightly to soothe the baby as she and Mac did a full autopsy and he laughed at the image. "Our kid's gonna know how to do an autopsy before they can walk."

She kissed him, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Matthew kissed her back. "I love you, Alice Lawson."

She grinned against his lips, "And I love you, Matthew Harvey."

Matthew held her close as they had a late night tea with the Blakes. He squeezed her hand tight as they wrapped it up fairly quickly - Jean and Lucien beating a hasty retreat to the studio as Alice pulled him towards their bedroom.

He was tired, but at the first brush of Alice's hands against his neck, Matthew needed her. She sensed the same thing and in between heated kisses they left a trail of clothes on the floor. It was quick and quiet, their lovemaking - brought on by time spent apart and the need to feel her skin against his without making too much noise to disturb the rest of the house; Alice seemed especially impatient and took the lead. As they lay next to each other, panting softly, Alice let out a soft laugh and Matthew joined in - the two of them giggling in the tangled sheets of their bed.

"Welcome home," Alice pressed a kiss to his chest.

He ran his hands through her hair and pulled her up for a slow kiss. "It's good to be back."

#alice harvey #matthew lawson #matthew x alice #the doctor blake mysteries #au: home is a heartbeat #matthew.alice #writing of dee #Anonymous

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missarcheron · 7 years

Text

A Tale of Nymphs II

Here’s the link to Chapter One. @illyrianinterrasen, @bunniesandbooks and @booksfullofme, I’ve tagged you because of your nice comments! (If you want me to untag you, just message me:) ) I hope you all enjoy this! Also check out my brand new “Writing” page on my blog for more stories:)

Chapter Two: The Chase

“And this”, Nesta says, an evil grin playing on her lips, “is how I knocked that idiot out.” She makes a complicated movement with her sword, whirls around, and brings it down onto the dummy that immediately catches fire.

Feyre laughs silently. “You did not burn Cassian, Nesta. Tell the story the right way.”

“Yeah.” Cassian, who is standing next to Elain and has watched the current performance with growing displeasure, crosses his arms and glares at Nesta. “Please do.”

Feyre and Nesta are visiting them from the Night Court, where Nesta currently lives to learn more about their fighting techniques. They brought along Cassian and Azriel, two close friends to Rhysand. Azriel is not talking much, but from the darkness swirling around his hands, Elain deducts that he must be like Feyre- a nymph of the night.

“Daughter, please.” Their mother, who has been watching, stands up. “Let this not become too wild.”

“It’s too late for that”, Nesta grins. “I think Cassian wants a rematch now?”

Cassian smiles broadly. “You bet I do.” Before anyone can stop them, they’ve engaged in a wild fight of clashing swords and occasional fire eruptions.

Elain turns to Feyre; she is laughing with Azriel, both of them highly amused about something. Anyone can see they belong to the same court: They are dressed in royal, dark- blue clothes, the glitter of stars in their eyes.

Elain loves it when her sisters come visit, but she feels even more alone knowing that they have their own lives now, away from her. She wishes she could turn the time back- back to when they were little, playing in the ocean, Feyre making the stars descend down front the firmament and light up the whole water. But those days are over now. Nesta and Feyre are moving on with their lives, finding their destinies, following their dreams.

Her mother comes to stand beside her. “Do not despair, Elain”, she says gently, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I know it is hard with your sisters gone.”

“Yes.” Elain stares down at her feet, already surrounded by small roses that sprout out of the earth. “I wonder if I will ever belong somewhere like they do.”

“You belong here. Into the realm of spring. This season is your home.”

I’m not sure about that, Elain wants to say. Yes, flowers bloom where she goes and life follows her path, but spring is a hollow word to her. As if not the nature itself answered to her powers, but something…else. How will she ever explain that to her mother?

“I guess”, she mumbles instead.

“You are troubled”, her mother says quietly, worry in her voice. “Tell me if you need something.”

“It’s okay.” Elain turns away. “I think I will walk through my gardens a bit.”

Her mother smiles. “That’s a good idea.”

But when Elain walks towards the park attached to the Spring Palace, she already knows that she will not visit her gardens.

She will go back to the winter lands.

“A break, my friends”, Tamlin growls. “Please. I cannot go on any further than this.”

Lucien stops his horse and holds up a hand as a signal to his men. “Andras, Tamlin and I will take a break”, he calls out. “Resume the search without us.”

“Thank you”, Tamlin grumbles while descending from his horse. “It would so much easier if to ride if I actually had- you know”-

“A body”, Andras finishes.

Tamlin stares at his skeleton arm gloomily. “Yes. I don’t understand why this curse has hit me so hard.”

Lucien drives a hand through his hair. “I will find a cure. I promise.” But looking at Tamlin without worrying is difficult these days, when all he sees is a mere rotten corpse where there was once a strong warrior. Atop Tamlin’s head sits a dusty golden crown- the only thing still linking him to the powerful being he once was. He has pulled the crown out of the earth one day, when he was a young man. Like the root of a tree. They had all wondered if that meant his magical powers were about to manifest; but then, Lucien’s realm had begun its demise, and Tamlin was suddenly reduced to nothing but a few bones.

“Look at them”, Andras whispers. “The Dead.”

Lucien looks up. Not far from them, a familiar, slow line of mortals stumbles through the snow. Their clothes are ripped and their faces are grey and fallen. None of them speak. Some of them carry signs of sickness, others have heavy wounds. A lot of them are old.

They are on their way to the ancient lake of Dûren; the lake which works as the gateway between the living world and that of the Deceased. Lucien is supposed to be its keeper. Is supposed to help these humans on their last way before entering death. Is supposed to take away their fear, to help them with their last wishes, to absolve them of their sins.

But he cannot do that anymore. Not since the eternal winter has taken a hold of his realm. Not since his powers are gone.

So now he simply lets them walk through his realm until they reach the lake and doesn’t intervene- and he can barely bring himself to think about all the souls that will never know peace because of that.

Because of him.

He balls a fist. He must find the girl. If she can turn his dead world living again- maybe she can bring his powers back as well. Maybe she can help the human souls.

And yet- something, in the very back of his mind, whispers other things to him. You have been dreaming about her for different reasons entirely. And you know why.

Perhaps he does. But he needs to catch her first to prove that theory right.

Elain stares at the mighty oak tree in the middle of the cold meadow. Why can she not sense life anywhere? It is as if everything in these winter woods was…

“Dead”, she mumbles. “There is nothing here.”

She walks up to the tree to put her hand on the bark. As soon as she touches it, the whole meadow seems to spring to life; the treetop stretches out to all sides, little green leaves shooting out of the branches. Birds flutter towards the sky as if they had been frozen inside their nests and are finally freed.

Elain hastily pulls her hand away. If anyone’s around, this little display will certainly have alerted them. And she doesn’t want to get into any trouble. Her mother has warned her about these lands, after all- has told her that they are no place for a nymph of spring.

But something about these woods, this strange, frozen land makes her feel at home. Elain shouldn’t even be thinking that. But she can’t help it. She drops to her knees, presses both of her palms into the earth- there. She only faintly feels it, but it’s there…a gentle pulsing beneath the surface. Like a heartbeat.

This land is not dead. It is merely sleeping. As if something is missing, and it needs to be woken up.

“What happened here?”, she whispers. Perhaps if she actively tried to push her magic into the soil-

“LOOK!”

Elain shoots up. There- a group of soldiers at the meadow’s edge, armed to their teeth. They do not seem to be friendly. “It’s her!”, one of the men cries, and they draw their weapons as if they are about to launch an attack.

Elain turns around and runs. Obviously, whoever owns these woods does not like them being tampered with. She should have listened to her mother! Who knows what they want to do to her-

But she can tell that they are mere elves, and she is a nymph gifted with magic. They will never outrun her. Elain calls to the winds while her braids come undone and her dress changes from a bright red to a light green that matches the blooming trees all around her. A stag suddenly springs over a fallen tree and into her path, and she grabs his antlers to swing herself on his back. “Run!”, she yells. Already the shouts of the men grow smaller in the distance. But she doesn’t stop- who knows what else is lurking in these woods. So she keeps riding for a while, still completely out of breath.

What did they want from her?

“Fools!” Lucien can barely contain his anger. “You do not draw your weapons and run screaming towards a young woman when you meet her alone in the woods! What was she supposed to do but flee?”

“A marvelous thing!” Andras stares as the great oak before them. The roots are already covered in deep ice again, but the branches still carry delicate green leaves. “She must have great powers to do this!”

Lucien is still fuming. “You”, he growls towards the groups commander. “Did you get a look at her?”

The commander nods, intimidated by his Lord’s fury. “I did, Sir.”

“What did she look like?”

“She wore a red dress, my Lord, but it changed to green when she entered the woods and mounted her stag.”

“Her stag?”

“There was a stag, my Lord”, another soldier jumps in. “It looked like it carved itself out of a tree- it was not there, and then suddenly, it ran besides her!”

Tamlin and Lucien exchange a glance. (Or at least, Tamlin’s corpse turns into Lucien’s general direction.) “It is her”, Lucien mumbles. “Tell me more. Did you see her face?”

“Yes, yes”- the commander stammers.

“So?”

“She was beautiful, my Lord”, the soldier says. “I can’t describe it properly. She did not look like any being I have ever seen.”

“Great powers connected to the elements…beauty…she must be a nymph”, Tamlin murmurs.

Lucien turns away from his men to look at the spot in the woods where she must have disappeared. A nymph. He suspected as much. He knows their kind well…those water nymphs from the nearby river tend to slip into his bed from time to time.

He sets his jaw. She can’t be that far.

Elain allows the stag to slow down after what feels like an eternity and dismounts. Where on earth is she? The woods look all the same to her, and the fact that night is fast approaching does not help. She curses the trail she is leaving behind- wherever her stag has touched the earth, a single tulip has grown. They are pretty, she must admit that, but it will make things way too easy for those men hunting her.

She yawns. The day has been too long already- perhaps she should find some safe shelter and try to make her way back in the morning. If only there was some way to control her powers properly, to keep those flowers from appearing…

After some searching, Elain finds a little cave at the side of a frozen stream. If she creeps far enough inside, no one will find her, she hopes. She grows herself a soft cover of grass to sleep on and crawls onto her make-shift bed, hugging her legs to her chest. Before she knows it, sleep has claimed her, and she is dreaming…

“She must be somewhere here!”

Elain startles, ripped out of her sleep. The sun is shining into her cave- it must be early morning- and one glance shows her why those men have managed to track her down again. The frozen stream has turned into bubbling, living water and the entrance of her cave is surrounded by ivy leaves. The ceiling rumbles- the men have to be right above her. If she wants to escape, she must do so now. Elain tip-toes to the entrance and glances outside. Right into the face of a soldier.

“There she is!”, he yells, and Elain throws herself into the water without thinking twice. As all nymphs, she is naturally drawn to the pure elements, but she is no river nymph, and will never swim as fast as she can run. She hears that the men jump in the stream as well, but she doesn’t turn around- she can’t waste any time. When she reaches the other riverside, her wet clothes clinging to her body, she is breathing hard. She hasn’t eaten anything for a day now. She has barely slept a few hours. What can she ever do in this weak state?

“Feyre”, she mumbles. Her sister is one of the most powerful beings she knows. If anyone can help right now, it’s her. Elain murmurs her words into the west wind- help me, sister, I am being hunted-

But who know if this message will ever reach her? Elain decides she will have to save herself. She clenches her teeth together as she climbs up the hill that lays on this side of the stream and breaks into another sprint when she reaches the top. Where is the stag from yesterday? How has she made him appear back then?

She looks back over her shoulder to see where the soldiers are. She will not be able to keep going like this for long. Already the world turns blurry in her vision. Then a sudden tree branch surprises her, and Elain tumbles down into the snow, hitting her knees. An instant pain shoots through her legs- are her knees bleeding? When she raises herself onto her arms, she sees that where the faint line of blood running down her skin has stained the snow, little roses are emerging. How is that supposed to help her now? Should she try throwing flowers at her hunters to stop them?

She barely manages to stand up and can just so keep herself from falling to the ground again. She’s weak, and tired, and she can’t run anymore. She stumbles another step-

And falls into two strong arms. “Don’t worry”, a deep, male voice hums. Elain raises her head. A man is staring down at her. A tall, muscled man, with red long hair and a black patch over his left eye. “You’re safe with me”, he says. Elain tries to straighten, but her legs won’t obey. The world is blurry again. “I know you”, she manages to mumble. Does the man’s eye widen in shock, or is she imagining things? She has no time to find out- her limbs sink into themselves and she drops against his broad chest.

Then there is nothing.

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captianfaerietrash · 7 years

Text

Raythe Reign Gift Exchange: Hug in a Mug

I know it has been quite some time since I posted anything, but this is such an exciting moment, since I have been working on this for over a month. I really hope my giftee ( @mangaworm ) likes it! (even though it does not seem to let me tag them in this! Darn you tumblr *shakes fist*)

I’d like to thank the @raythereignfans for setting this up for the second year in a row, and of course Raythe herself for making all of these wonderful creations possible~

Title: Hug in a Mug - A Date a Vampire.com fanfic

Prompt: “Milo introduces Lucien to coffee”

As the sun finally dips below the Winter Haven skyline, Milo practically trips over himself in order to get to his computer as soon as possible. Luckily, for the sake of his skin and the steaming cup of coffee in hand, he doesn’t actually trip, but catches himself right before sitting down in his computer chair. He sighs in relief as the mug ultimately sits undamaged on the desk beside the keyboard. With that minor wave of anxiety quickly passing, the college student hurries to log on to what has quickly become his favorite website: dateavampire.com, constantly glancing at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. Hopefully he’ll make it on before-- ah-ha! As promised, exactly 20 minutes after sundown, a window appears, alerting him to someone attempting to contact him through the website. Of course, Milo clicks the “ok” button and beams brightly as the always lovely sight of the handsome blonde male appears before him. Aaah, Lucian… simply spotting the supposed vampire on his screen sends his heart fluttering in his rib cage and brings a goofy smile to his face. He waves while Lucian fumbles with the device, mumbling something about no sound coming through. Right as Milo moves his hands towards the keyboard, the “vampire” gasps in pleasant surprise when he finally figures it out. The college student couldn’t help but smile and hum in amusement.

“Hi there, did you sleep well?” He asks, tilting his head curiously to the side with that somewhat silly smile at the corner of his lips. Regardless whether he believed Lucien to really be a vampire or not, Milo can tell that the gorgeous man before him just woke up not too long ago: his movements are slightly lethargic and he occasionally yawns. Plus, the “viscount’s” typically picture perfect golden locks look ever so slightly disheveled, which is definitely noticeable when compared to the usual perfection. If Milo attempted a call merely 20 minutes after waking up, someone might mistake him for a monstrous creature of the night.. He cannot help but feel a little jealous, but not that much. Upon hearing Milo’s question, Lucien’s lips curl up into a heart-melting smile as he nods his head slightly in response.

“I did indeed. Although, I do wish I could have woken from my slumber earlier so that we may talk longer. You only have a few hours until you must retire for sleep, no?” He smiles somewhat sadly now: the corners of his mouth drop subtly, as if the thought of not being able to talk to Milo for long upset him. Much to his surprise, the young man suddenly chuckles and shakes his head, which only confuses the blonde male beyond the screen.

“Not tonight. I’ve gotta upload my photos onto my computer and start on an assignment due Monday. Although, I doubt I’ll be concentrating too much on that part.” Milo cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle in order to keep himself from babbling on more than he already did. Lucien raises both brows in surprise, certainly not expecting this kind of behavior from the young man he has acquainted himself with.

“How do you plan on staying awake longer than you do already? You look absolutely exhausted at the end of our conversations most nights.” His lifted brows now furrow in concern. While he has not been human in quite some time, he is still certain that humans need a decent amount of sleep. However, Milo seems to not share these same concerns as he reaches off-screen and returns with a cup in his hand; the words ‘World’s Biggest Nerd’ face Lucien, but he has absolutely no idea what that means.

“Waaaaaaaaaay ahead of you. I made some coffee. So, I can actually stay awake this time.” Milo grins, obviously quite proud of his own plan and takes a drink from the coffee mug. A content sigh escapes him as he sets the ceramic cup back down once more. When he turns his gaze back to the computer, he spots Lucien simply blinking in confusion. Could it be… has Lucien never heard of coffee before? Damn, Milo has to admit: Lucien must be a talented actor for sure if he can fake not knowing what coffee is! That, or Lucien was born and raised under a rock and completely deprived of the caffeinated life blood known as coffee, which should be a crime in and of itself! Whatever the case may be, Milo decides to just go along with it, his eyes widening in horror at the thought of someone never trying coffee before in their whole life. “You…. you do know what coffee is… right?” Milo still asks, holding the mug out for Lucien to see inside. Perhaps it would jog his memory. Still very much confused, the “viscount” shakes his head.

“Not to my current knowledge, I am afraid…” Lucien scowls for a moment but ultimately smiles at Milo’s shocked expression. It was too precious, but he was not about to say that out loud. “Although, it seems to be something you enjoy, and is quite popular, considering your reaction and questions…” He observes, providing a starting point for the young man to begin his inevitable explanation. While Milo seems quite determined to learn as much as he could about Lucien, that much obvious to the blond from the insistence of the young man’s questions in their previous conversations, the viscount finds himself delighted by Milo’s plethora of expressions and animated explanations about things the college student probably thought mundane or normal. Could anyone truly blame Lucien for jumping on the opportunity when it presented itself? Besides, he truly wishes to know more about not only this “modern” world, but, right now, specifically this miracle liquid that Milo alluded to helping the young man stay awake rather than falling asleep around his usual time. It sounds more like some sort of medicinal draught than a pleasant beverage. Yet, the student before him seems to be doing just that: contently sipping away at the drink, which he barely catches a glance at, aside from that first look Milo gave him. It almost appears to be the same color of the photographer’s hair, perhaps a little darker? Certainly not a color that Lucien typically associates with beverages.

To the vampire’s relief and mild excitement, Milo lights up and laughs that beautiful, melodious laugh so unique to the young man. English, unfortunately, lacks the words to truly describe it in its entirety. “Well, you’re definitely not wrong, on either account. It just so happens to be the lifeblood of every college student ever…” Milo pauses and suddenly laughs again, as if only now catching onto his particular word choice. “Not literally, of course! But, we drink enough of it that it very well may be true! From all of the late night and all night studying, it’s practically a necessity. It’s got lots of caffeine which keeps us alert and wide awake. Plus, I think it actually tastes good, given enough cream and sugar.” He chuckles and looks at the cup again with a warm smile. “TT also calls it a ‘hug in a mug,’ especially if you’re just enjoying it rather than needing the coffee to stay conscious…” He trails off and spontaneously blushes faintly, setting the mug down and chuckling awkwardly out of embarrassment. “I kinda rambled a little bit there… Sorry about that…”

Lucien hums and smiles in mild amusement with a shake of his head. “No need to apologize, Milo. I was enjoying your explanation, especially when you called it… oh, what was it… something about a hug in the cup?”

“Hug in a mug, but really? You don’t mind it?” “Mind it? I told you before, Milo: you don’t have to hide anything or change how you act around me. Just be yourself.” Lucien reassures the young man with a stunning smile. However, the vampire begins to pout, somewhat, even without realizing it, his bottom lip becoming subtly more noticeable to Milo as the viscount slumps his shoulders. “Even so, I highly doubt that anyone here knows how to make coffee. Some are even older than I, and the rest are far too busy with their modern lives.” Lucien sighs softly. “So, it seems I will not be able to partake of this warm embrace in a cup anytime soon… how unfortunate.” The viscount tilts his head slightly with the sad pout only increasing.

Really? No one where Lucien lived knew how to make coffee? Milo almost couldn’t believe it! Then again, most people his age don’t make their own either; they simply go to the nearest coffee shop and have it made for--

Ah ha! That’s it! A coffee shop!

Lucien still has some hesitations about his ‘ability to adapt to the modern world,’ (which Milo suspected simply meant that Lucien wasn’t allowed to go to “clients’” homes, or he simply didn’t feel ready to go to Milo’s apartment) so the college student doesn’t want to push that issue or even bring it up. However, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t make an offer for a compromise of sorts. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway, right?

“You are thinking rather intently on something… Is everything alright?” The velvety voice pulls Milo back from his waffling thoughts. Returning to the present moment of reality, the young man blinks rapidly as a sheepish grin curls at the edges of his lips and an embarrassed chuckle escapes his throat. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head.

“Well, I don’t know if I would say anything is wrong, but… I suppose you could say that I am… debating something, but I don’t know if I should ask. I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.” “Uncomfortable? Sweet Milo, I doubt that your words in any form could make me uncomfortable, save for you telling me that you do not wish to speak with me any longer… Although, that would trouble me more than make me--”

“No! No… that’s not it at all, not in the slightest!” Milo panics and shakes his head while his hands flail about. After the momentary freak out, Milo sighs with defeat. “Well… I was going to ask if… if you heard of the historical district? If you have ever been there? I… I know you said you don’t get out because of the--”

“Is there something in this ‘historical district’ that you wish to show me?” Lucien tilts his head slightly with a charming heart-melting smile. How could Milo possibly withstand such an expression? It is impossible!

“Sort of… Kind of… okay, yeah…” Milo finally admits with a bashful smile and flushed cheeks. “There’s… there’s a small coffee shop that opened not too long ago right on the edge of the district… I know, it’s a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Forget I said anything.”

“Nonsense. I think it is a lovely idea. Do you think they are open late?”

Milo stares at the screen for a moment after the “vampire” finishes his question. Lucien… was he actually considering this? Going to a coffee shop… going on a coffee date with Milo? “O-Oh! Yeah, it’s near the campus. Well, close enough that students go from time to time, so it’s open all night, actually.” The young man chuckles, practically giddy at this point. To think that Lucien might actually want to go on a date… with him! That he would actually venture outside… to go to a coffee shop with Milo of all people! Those same thoughts of disbelief whirl about in a continuous cycle, over and over. If he didn’t know better, he might think that he was actually dreaming.

“Great. I do not suppose you could… erm… I assume there is a way to… the address for the coffee shop in question?” Lucien falters, trying to find the words of this modern world he currently lacked. “I am sure Gregoire-- a dear friend of mine-- could assist me with getting there, once I have a location.” He ultimately explains, hoping that would clear up the confusion currently knitting the young man’s brows before him. Fortunately, realization dawns on Milo and the college student quickly types away at the keyboard.

“If Gregoire is the friend that helped you set up your profile on the website, then I’m sure he could help you with this. Of course, there’s always the option of me coming to pick you up from--”

“Trust me, Milo. This is not a place you wish to be. Not all here are as kind and… civilized as Gregoire and myself. Please…” Lucien implores with a sad smile and… something that the college student can only describe as smoldering… puppy eyes. How was Milo supposed to say no to that?

“Oh, alright, but only because you asked nicely.” Milo teases with a soft chuckle before hitting the Enter key. A soft ping pipes up on the blond male’s side soon after, much to the young man’s delight and relief. “Well, that sound tells me you got it, so… when should I expect to see you there? I’m pretty much free every night this week… if you’re not busy. We could always wait until next week if that’s--”

“Milo. It’s okay. If you have no qualms, we could go tomorrow?” Lucien raises a brow, but simply smiles: no expectations or impatience, just a content smile. Milo raises his brows in surprise, certainly not expecting this kind of… immediate response from Lucien.

“T-Tomorrow? Tomorrow would be great! I can work with that. What time do you want to meet up? I know right after sunset wouldn’t be ideal, so how about 8, or 9? Would that work better?” Milo cuts himself short before he could allow himself to continue rambling on. However, Lucien doesn’t seem to mind, or notice the college student’s slight nervous tendencies as he hums thoughtfully, contemplating the young man’s question.

“How about we go with 9, just to ‘be on the safe side,’ no?” He smiles, somewhat proud of attempt at a colloquialism he heard Milo use before. “Nine o’clock it is then. Tell Gregoire not to make you late.”

With the coffee shop being somewhat close to his apartment, Milo simply walks through the historical district, his heart fluttering higher in his chest with every step until it feels lodged in his throat from both the nerves and excitement. Can anyone honestly blame him though? He’s finally going on a date (albeit just a coffee date, but still! It totally counts!) with Lucien! He actually pinches himself a couple of times to make sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate dream as he makes his way over to the edge of the district. The moment he reaches the coffee shop, and holds his hand out to open the door, he hears the engine of an expensive sports car revving right before it speeds off, causing the curious college student to turn away from the door, towards the source of the sound. As he does, his mind goes completely blank at the sight before him: those gorgeous amethyst eyes, that fair skin that nearly looks porcelain beneath the streetlights, accompanied by long flowing locks spun out of gold, or platinum, maybe both, and those lips… those smooth perfect lips now curl up in a bright, but also amused, smile. Milo swears his heart stops right then and there as he lays eyes on the man he has been talking to for months, in the flesh rather than simply through the computer screen: Lucien. If it was somehow possible, he looks even more amazing in person.

He notices Lucien’s lips moving, but it actually takes him a moment to catch what was being said to him: “I hope you were not waiting long. I know we agreed on nine, but it seems we were both too impatient.” He hums with amusement, as if realizing Milo’s elongated pause was because of him. The college student flushes bright red but smiles widely while nodding in agreement.

“I guess you’re right.” He responds with a sheepish grin before turning back towards the door. “C’mon, might as well head in before it gets too crowded.” Milo holds the door open and looks back at the beautiful man behind him. “Might as well.” Lucien repeats the college student and reaches into his pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses, earning a quizzical look from the young man before him. “Although it is not daylight, artificial light can become an annoyance, from what Gregoire has said. So, I took this pair of reflective oculars he offered to assist with… potential unpleasantries.” Lucien explains while placing the sunglasses on his face and walking through the opened door. Although Milo stares for a moment, as if uncertain what all to believe in that, he ultimately smiles and nods.

“I guess headaches and stuff would make it difficult to be in a place like this.” The student rationalizes and follows Lucien inside, soon taking the lead towards the front where the menu board sits behind the counter covered with towers of coffee cups next to pots of freshly brewed coffee, and the registers staffed with overly friendly baristas.

“The aroma in here is odd, but intriguing and mostly pleasant. Is that from the coffee?” Lucien inhales as he turns to ask Milo his query. A couple of people wait in line ahead of them, so surely this would be a proper time to converse about it. The earthiness… with the subtlest notes of spices and smoke and… perhaps a touch of chocolate as well? It is quite complex with so many other varying notes, that he has some difficulty identifying all of the distinct fragrances. Some of them he has no name for, because he never smelled them before in his entire life. Milo looks up at him with a curious smile and nods.

“Yeah, that’s probably from the coffee. I bet they get the whole roasted beans sent here, and they grind them on site before brewing. Would explain why the smell is so strong, and possibly why you find it so odd.” He explains, doing his best to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt that the gorgeous blond man never truly experienced coffee before, as mind-blowing a concept as that is.

“They are beans? That are roasted and ground?” Lucien repeats, genuinely intrigued and curious. That certainly explains the subtle smoke, but perhaps the other intricacies are simply part of the coffee’s inherent characteristics? “And… brewed? Like tea, perhaps?” He recognizes the concept, but does not know how that is applied to coffee. Sounds plausible, at least to the ancient viscount anyway, but what did he know? Milo hums thoughtfully before laying his hand flat horizontally midair and teetering it back and forth.

“Somewhat, but rather than a pouch of the ground beans going into the cup, a filter full of the grounds is suspended over the cup, or pitcher in the case of the coffee house, and hot water is slowly poured into the filter. The flavored water steeped with coffee trickles out of the filter with none of the ground beans.” He tries his best to explain and slumps his shoulders in relief when Lucien finally nods in understanding. At last, they make their way to the counter, where Milo orders two simple lattes, something easy, not too crazy, and quick for the baristas to whip up. In a matter of moments, the college student leads them both to a somewhat dimmer table away from the majority of the light and sound. Lucien seems to relax a little as he sits down across from Milo, now curiously inspecting the cup placed before him. He watches Milo take a sip from the plastic lid atop the cup and sighs contently. “Not too bad, if I do say so myself.” Milo remarks. While he prefers to make it himself at home with his specific coffee and cream, he still enjoys the simple warm latte in his hands.

Only after hearing Milo’s comment does Lucien finally decide to try it for himself. He mimicks the same motions that he saw and soon tastes something very similar to the wonderful aroma around them, with a little bit of cow’s milk to lighten up the bitterness. Lucien hums thoughtfully with his brows raised in pleasant surprise. However, after a few quiet moments, the blond glances down at the cup in mild confusion. A slight perplexed frown curls his lips downward as his brows then furrow to further express this lack of understanding.

“Is something wrong? Do you not like it?” Milo asks, absently reaching over to place his hand atop Lucien’s. His warm fingertips brush against shockingly cold knuckles before the “vampire” looks over to him and actually registers the question. Lucien smiles apologetically and shakes his head.

“That is not it, Milo. I enjoy it, more so than I initially anticipated I would. However, I do not feel that… feel what you called it last night…” He glances back down at the cup with another confused and disappointed frown. Milo stares dumbfounded for a moment. Was Lucien upset that he didn’t feel the “hug in a mug” that Milo jokingly referred to the previous night? Although he really meant it in jest, the only time Milo feels anything remotely like that is when he makes it himself… and shares it with someone else, like TT or maybe--

“I’m sorry that it doesn’t live up to the expectations I might have accidentally set with my words.” Milo chuckles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head right as a thought dawns on him. “How about I make it up to you tomorrow night, if you’re still free? I have an idea about how to get you your hug in a mug~” Milo beams brightly, actually somewhat proud of this new plan, despite having come up with it less than two minutes ago.

“You do not have to ‘make it up to me,’ Milo. I told you I am enjoying this. But if you still wish to do so, yes, I am ‘free’ tomorrow for whatever you may be scheming.” Lucien responds with a bemused hum as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Great! It’s a date then, again.” Milo chuckles with a wide grin as he, too, resumes drinking his latte.

Time ticks by slowly as Milo stands near the entrance to the large, well kept, city park: half commonplace park with benches, sparse trees, and a playground, and half partially tamed forest for those who appreciated the wilderness but seldom traveled far enough to actually see it otherwise. Lucien once told him that shapeshifters and werewolves felt more at home there, but Milo doubts that, much like the whole ‘vampire’ thing. Speaking of Lucien, where is that French speaking--

Right as the college student looks around, a vaguely familiar fancy sports car pulls up right next to the curb. The passenger’s side opens, and out steps that drop dead gorgeous man who inexplicably agreed to not one, but two dates with Milo. The young man beams brightly and waves, walking closer to the blond beauty as soon as the car peels off back down the road.

“I apologize for my tardiness… I had to wait for Gregoire to finish a business meeting. I did not wish to inconvenience him more than I probably do.” Lucien explains with an apologetic smile as Milo finally reaches him, although the college student blinks a couple times in confusion before looking down at his watch. A minute. Lucien was upset about being one minute late? It takes everything within Milo not to laugh, considering how sincere Lucien felt about his apology.

“It is alright Lucien, I haven’t been waiting long at all. Shall we?” Milo beans and starts walking toward the park entrance again, but not before something icy envelops his hand. He blinks in confusion as he looks down to find Lucien’s fingers intertwined with his own. His cheeks spontaneously radiate head, and probably turn a nice shade of pink or red by now. However, he says nothing about it and simply gives the “vampire’s” hand a light squeeze before searching for the perfect spot for an impromptu nighttime coffee picnic. It doesn’t take long for him to find a nice clear patch with an amazing view of the stars overhead. Only then does he slide the duffel bag from his shoulder, and unzips it to pull out a simple quilted blanket given to him several christmases ago, by some relative or another. He lays it out flat and sits down, patting the spot next to him to encourage the very confused Lucien to sit down. After he does this, Milo pulls out the other items in his bag: two coffee cups and a tall steel insulated thermos. He hands one of the cups to Lucien and sets the other in his own lap for the moment while opening up the thermos.

“I think I might have it all figured out: it wasn’t made by someone you care for, and who cares for you in return. I made this one, so hopefully this will do the trick.” Milo beams while carefully pouring the steaming hot liquid into Lucien’s mug. He moves on to pour his own as he spots the older man sniffing the contents of the cup and humming thoughtfully. Milo cannot contain the soft chuckle escaping his lips while he recaps the thermos. “Go ahead, it’s not going to bite or anything.” Milo urges with a light tease and another laugh, cradling his much in both hands.

“I never said that it would. I was merely waiting for you, that is all.” Lucien smiles gently before finally bringing the rim of the cup to his lips. He takes a sip and his eyes widen with surprise and delight. As he pulls the cup back, an elated smile brightens his face and the ‘viscount’ nods to himself. “Yes, this is it. This must be what you were referring to: so warm, but not painfully hot. It is… comforting. About the only thing that could compare is an actual hug, no?” He turns towards Milo, who was all smiles and flushed cheeks. The college student carefully sets his coffee up down with a thoughtful hum.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out~” ~End~

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