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florencemtrash · 2 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Lucien Vanserra could kill me and I would be honored. Cannon typical violence. Some angst. Lots of fun

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Lucien stood in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. Words stuck in his throat.

You knew as his eyes roamed over your features that he was hunting for some mark of Helion’s that you’d inherited, whether it be the set of your eyes, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, or even the tilt of your sharp ears. But he came up empty. Whatever features you did share with Helion could have easily been shared by two strangers. It was how you’d gotten away with working with him at the Day Court and attending balls by his side.

But there were some things that went deeper than skin and bones. He could barely make it out in the hum of your power and the faint, charming glow in your eyes. It was something that spoke of warmth and sparkling intellect. A sliver of the sun given form.

You were Helion’s daughter.

You were… you were his sister.

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I understand this must be a surprise. Perhaps not the kind of surprise you were hoping for.”

“You’re my sister,” Lucien finally breathed out, and the wind, so harsh and biting before, ceased.

“Half-sister… technically.”

“I don’t go by halves.”

The sharp, sudden rush of cold air into your lungs had you shivering. Lucien noticed and without thinking he reached out with his power, wrapping heat around your body until you may as well have been perched in front of a roaring fire. His magic smelled like woodsmoke and balsam.

“You’re my sister.” He repeated the phrase a few more times, finding it more believable with each swirl of the words around his tongue.

Elain had known this was coming and had given him a cryptic warning, but that did nothing to lessen the excitement spreading in his chest with each passing second.

You watched him wearily, hands clasped over your body and eyes furrowed, like you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Which was ridiculous. How could Lucien ever be upset by this?

“You’re my sister!”

A sharp laugh exited his body that grew and grew until you felt like you were floating on the waves of his happiness. He rushed forward, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Wind rushed past your ears as the world blurred.

He gently deposited you back on solid ground.

“How old are you? How long have you known about Helion? Where have you been all this time?” He asked the questions in rapid succession, heart hammering away in his chest.

He had a sister. A sister.

“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”

He smiled. He’d always wanted a younger sibling. A younger sister to be exact that he could teach to fight and hunt and ride with more support than he’d ever been afforded.

“I’ve known about Helion since I was little.” Lucien’s smile slipped at that revelation. “And I’ve been in the Day Court in one of the athenaeums. It was my home up until the point where Koschei burned down my house and I got saddled with Beth’s book. I’ve been here ever since. Although I never expected for any of this—” You gestured vaguely at the House, the sky, at Lucien, “to happen. Not that I’m upset!” You added quickly.

“What was it like? Growing up in the Day Court?” He looked you up and down again, searching for scars or broken bones that had never healed right. But from what he could tell, you were whole.

He clenched his fists tightly until you answered.

“It was safe. Lonely, but safe.”

“Good.” He breathed out in relief. “Good.”

Azriel watched everything from the deck that wrapped around the back of the house. The wind carried the tang of salt, opening his lungs and easing the pain in his chest that wrapped around him like a vice. He kept his wings pulled in tight and hands clasped behind his back. He was a slice in the fabric of the universe, unmoving and still.

And he missed you. Gods did he miss you.

“We shouldn’t stand so close,” Azriel murmured.

His voice was ragged, filled with more gravel than the walkway that snaked through Elain’s garden. Weighed down with secrets that felt more like anvils.

Elain dropped the empty bucket onto the deck followed by the clang of her spade. The shovel lay discarded in the field, the ground marked by neat lines of overturned earth. She cupped her hands and blew into them, breathing life back into her stiff fingers.

Twenty minutes ago he’d seen you run beneath his window, racing towards the Sidra with your robes hiked up to your knees so you could try and keep up with Lucien’s long strides as he pulled you along by your hand, red hair streaming behind him like a bundle of ribbons.

You’d been calling out for him to slow down, your voice loud and breathless.

And after everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, he couldn’t stop himself from walking down to the deck to watch you.

Now you stood at the water’s edge with your hands outstretched, dutifully holding onto every stone that Lucien plucked from the river. Your head tipped to the side in curiosity.

His childhood in Autumn had not been kind, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy moments sprinkled in amongst the sorrow. There in the woods with bejeweled treetops and diamond glass rivers he’d learned how to swim and fish and hunt. He’d wrestled with his brothers, fallen in love, and gained the confidence and freedom to eventually travel the Courts and make his own way in the world.

But you’d been lonely your whole life. Trapped indoors with nothing but your books for company. You’d never learned how to swim. You’d never dug through the soil for slimy worms to go fishing. You’d never fallen asleep beneath a glittering sky, fire smoke curling in the air and the taste of chestnuts lingering on your tongue and filling your belly.

It had been a different kind of sorrow, but no less real.

Lucien aimed to change some of that. Your mere presence beside him, as hesitant as it was, filled him with a happiness he couldn’t name.

He had his trousers rolled up to his thighs revealing powerful legs and freckled, caramel-brown skin. He didn’t mind the cold waters rolling over his hands as he tracked the riverbed for the smoothest, flattest stones. Every time he looked back you were either watching him or examining each stone with narrowed eyes like you’d find some algorithm carved into their edges that would tell you what made them so special for the task at hand.

Azriel couldn’t hear what you two were saying, and he didn’t send his shadows out to investigate, but soon you were tugging off your boots, then your socks, and tying the long length of your robes around your waist. You gingerly dipped your toes into the river and immediately leapt back.

Lucien’s laugh rolled over the earth, full of warmth and joy. He was grinning so wide Azriel could see the whites of his teeth and his shaking shoulders.

Inch by inch you walked into the river up to your calves and Lucien dunked his cupped hands into the cold water.

“Don’t you dare! Lucien!”

Then you were shaking your head, slapping Lucien’s hands away with a shout when he tossed the water at your face, and threatening to launch the black stones back into the river for him to fetch. Your toes were already starting to go numb.

Azriel’s heart gave a painful lurch, even as he smiled softly at the sight of you.

“I don’t… I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.” Azriel swallowed and turned his gaze down to where a plump sparrow was digging around in the grasses.

Elain ignored him, dropping her arms onto the wooden railing and staring out. She let out a lovely, longing sigh and Azriel just knew she was strumming the bond within her chest to feel Lucien on the other side.

The red-haired male looked up to meet her gaze and smiled softly. You also looked up, and then immediately looked away with rosy cheeks.

“Lucien knows where I stand. He… he’s finally beginning to trust me again.”

He’d been so eager to give her his heart the first time around, and she’d crushed it beneath her dainty shoes, too angry at the life that had been torn away to look at the one she’d been given. This time around she was determined to earn Lucien’s love, no matter how easy he made it for her. No matter how many times he told her it wasn’t something that had ever needed to be earned.

“It took some time to gain that back.” She shifted. “But then again, we were lucky. We knew what we were to each other. You still haven’t told Y/n you’re mates.”

“You know about that?”

Elain rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, because it was.

“I don’t think I can tell her, Elain.”

“And why not?”

Azriel hesitated.

Here was a truth he hadn’t been able to express to his brothers — the truth they didn’t understand: They were good, decent males, and when it had come to their mating bonds they’d treated them with the respect they deserved. They’d been patient. They’d never tried to force a hand that wasn’t theirs.

But Azriel was… wrong. In so many ways he was wrong.

He either waited too long or he moved without thinking. He fell into obsession like a starling with clipped wings. He scrounged for scraps of affection where he wasn’t supposed to and brooded when it inevitably blew up in his face. He’d been trying to take his time with you. He’d been trying to do it right. He was…

He was already in love with you.

He’d been in love with you for some time now.

Elain smiled, still staring towards the river.

She had loved Azriel once. Not in the way she loved Lucien and not in a way that had been good for them, but still it had been love of some kind. She could feel the waves rolling off his body as he came to his quiet realization, and it felt very different from the way he’d felt about her and very similar to the way she felt about Lucien.

“I love her, Elain.” He whispered the words like they were fragile as spun sugar, ready to dissolve the moment they left his lips.

“She’ll say yes to the bond. I’ve seen it.”

Azriel let out a broken, strangled noise and looked at Elain, begging for more. “Even after—”

“Yes. Even after what that boy made you do. Even after what she learned when she touched your hand.” She looked down at Azriel’s hands, leather gloves worn and supple. She gave them a squeeze. “A year ago I had a vision of a white bird flying out of the sun with a golden ribbon tied to one of its feathers. Its wings were dipped in ink so she could leave a trail along the ground for a beast of shadow to follow.”

Azriel went still as death. “And then what happened?”

Elain looked up at him, eyes glittering. “She flew to the base of a mountain, laid down, and has been waiting ever since. She’s been waiting for you. For someone who understands what it means to be lonely and what it’s like to hope for more.”

And Azriel did exactly that. He hoped for more.

More time with you. More unrestrained touches. More midnight conversations until your eyes were threatening to shut.

Something changed then. Elain’s brown, doe eyes turned misty and flat. Her voice dropped and the hand she reached out to grab hold of his arm was cold as ice.

“You need to be careful, Az,” she warned. “Don’t let her go into the mirror. She may not come out.” She clawed at his arms. “Az, you need to be careful. The mirror…”

He gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her as she swayed on her feet.

“Elain, what—” But her vision was already gone. No matter how hard she tried to hold on it was like trying to keep water in a cracked cup.

Lucien kept his arm perfectly parallel with the earth, drew back, and snapped his wrist at the last second. The stone flew out over the glassy river and kept kissing the surface in weakening arches before it was eventually swallowed up in a dollop of salt.

“Eight.”

Lucien looked at you incredulously. “I counted nine.”

“Eight skips,” you argued. “Males always overestimate.”

“And what experience do you have with males?”

None. Except for that one glorious day you’d clung to Azriel like the world was finally peaceful. It was nowhere near the level of experience you suspected Lucien must have after centuries spent bouncing around from Court to Court. Nowhere near the level of experience Azriel or the others had when it came to touch.

You bristled. “Enough.”

Lucien smirked like he knew you were lying and held out his hand for another stone. Soon it too was lost to the river.

“How many this time?”

You twisted your lips to the side, but had to admit, “Nine.”

He was grinning.

“Come on.” He held out his hand for you, beckoning you deeper into the river. “Your turn. Just like I showed you.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Come on!”

“I will kill a fish, Lucien.”

There was a playful roll of his eyes. “Y/n—”

“I’ll end up throwing a rock so hard into the water I’ll give an innocent, unsuspecting fish brain damage.” So what if you were being melodramatic. That did nothing to counter the fact that your hand-eye coordination was shit.

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Wrong.

You were gods awful at this.

You tried your best to mimic the bend of Lucien’s spine as he let go of his stone, tried to mimic the way he curled his fingers against its rounded edges. But every single one of your throws was either too strong or too weak. Too high or too low.

You chucked the last rock in your hand but the spin on it — or rather lack thereof — was abysmal. It plopped into the river three yards away with a splash.

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head as you stomped back onto the beach, swearing with every step as your robes dragged through the water behind you.

You whirled around and kicked up river water in his direction.

“Stop laughing!” A smile tugged at your lips even as you said that.

“You’re doing very well!”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not!”

“I didn’t grow up in the backwoods of Autumn. I’ve never done this before,” you grumbled, your words tinged with embarrassment.

And thank the Mother you hadn’t. Yes, Lucien had always wanted a sister, but he flinched just to think of the horrors you would have faced if you’d both shared a mother instead of a father. The ways Beron would have bent you until you broke, especially as a female. Sold to the highest bidder and forced to have as many children as possible. A high-end, noble-blooded breeder.

Suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. The smile slipped off his bright face.

You stiffened. Some of the scars on Lucien’s body took on new meaning.

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” you said. The fun of the afternoon, as embarrassing as it had been for you, fell away. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You’d only heard whispers of the way Beron treated his children. Which could only mean that they’d endured infinitely worse.

Lucien shook his head and more of his scarlet hair came tumbling out of his braid. He looked so much like Helion in the sun that you were surprised more people didn’t know. They had the same strong noses, the same build with their tapered waists and strong legs. They even had the same dimple on their left cheeks.

But maybe Beron and his brothers had known, or at least suspected that he was different, and that had added to Lucien’s torment.

“Maybe one day you could show me though,” you asked hopefully when the silence was on the verge of becoming too loud, “I’ve never been to Autumn — I’ve not been to most places, actually — but I’d like to see it. I could show you the Day Court too.”

He shook his head slowly, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think that would be a good idea — visiting the Day Court.”

That was the issue you’d been tiptoeing around the last two hours. You both knew about Helion, but he was only aware of your existence, not Lucien’s. And it was one thing for you to be revealed as Helion’s daughter — there’d be gossip, attempts on your life, and countless marriage proposals.

But for Lucien? He’d suddenly find himself face to face with the weight of a crown and an entire Court on his shoulders. You wouldn’t blame him for trying to avoid that fate.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Lucien… Why haven’t you told Helion yet? Beron’s been dead for years now, and I’ve heard only good things about Eris. That he’s honest and fair. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d punish you if you claimed your right to Helion’s Court.”

His bright eyes turned bitter, all laughter disappearing. He dipped his hand into the river, picked up a rock, and chucked it back in. Its edges were too ragged anyway.

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?”

You straightened up as if the answer were obvious. “Trust me, he doesn’t know. If he knew you were his son, he would have found ways to see you grow up. We might have even grown up together.”

It was a pathetic daydream, but one you’d been thinking about.

“You’re wrong!”

The outburst was so sudden, so unlike the Lucien everyone else spoke of that you had to take a few steps back. Smoke rose from his clenched fists and his skin pulsed, glowing with an inner light like he was more ember than fae.

He blinked rapidly then swore, brushing his salt-stiffened hair back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but…” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have come. He didn’t come. He just left me and my mother there with that monster. He must have known what it was like — the things he did to her and the rest of us — but he never showed up. Not for my mother. Not for me.”

“He didn’t know.”

You repeated those words with the same conviction you had for everything else you knew to be true. You stepped closer and with the slope of the beach you could face him eye-to-eye.

“Do you want to know how I know? My mother wanted nothing to do with him when she found out she was pregnant. He had to hear it from one of the healers. And when I was born she forbade him from visiting, forbade him from even laying eyes on me, but he couldn’t stay away. He found ways to be in my life and protected me as best he could, and when Mom died and I was left on my own, he gave me projects with purpose so I wouldn’t crumble into nothing.” You stabbed your finger against your chest. “He did that for me. Is he a great father? Absolutely not. Is he a decent father? Maybe? Probably not, he wasn’t there most of the time. But he’s trying. I know it’s not the same and we’re still strangers and I understand if you don’t forgive him for abandoning your mother — I wouldn’t — but he would have gone for you.”

You were breathing hard now. Lucien just stared with shiny eyes and unclenched fists.

“And I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know what it’s like to have a father who at least tries.”

The world was too small right now. It was too big. The Sidra had soaked through your skin and your robes were growing heavier and heavier by the second, weighed down by salt water and time.

“Would you at least consider telling him? Please?”

Because another pathetic daydream you’d been thinking of recently was that one day it might be you and Helion and Lucien. An imperfect family, but a family nevertheless. That you might not feel so alone anymore.

Lucien’s throat bobbed and he turned away from you long enough for the crisp wind to dry his tears.

“Take off your robes. They must be soaked by now. I’ll make sure you don’t go cold.'” His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll look for more stones. No sister of mine is going to go through life without learning how to skip stones.”

He threw that word around so casually — sister — like saying it over and over again would somehow make the hundreds of years you’d both spent on your own disappear.

Clouds gathered steadily overhead painting the world with a wash of grey. But that did nothing to diminish the faint light that emanated from you and Lucien as you waded through the shallows and finally learned to skip stones. Lucien whooped, red hair streaming behind him, and you smiled as your last stone skipped twice over the river before disappearing beneath the surface.

You leaned back in the tall, dying grasses and sipped on the cardamom tea Elain brought down from the House, listening to the many stories Lucien had gathered over centuries spent traversing Prythian and the Human Lands. You told him about The Alcove, Cherp, your mother, and the books you read, and he listened like it was the most epic tale he’d heard in his entire life.

Sometimes you both went quiet. It was sobering to think about what you’d both endured alone without your true family. But still… it was good to have one another now.

When you walked into the packed dining room — barefoot, salt-stained, and rosy from the cold — Lucien pulled out the seat next to him for you, surprising the grey Ione.

Elain dropped gracefully into the chair across from her mate, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good day?”

You and Lucien glanced at one another. His golden eye whirred and his russet eye gleamed mischievously.

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing down the smile that threatened to make its appearance. “The worst.”

“You’re just upset because you lost,” Lucien teased, casually draping his arm over your shoulder.

“It was hardly a fair competition. You must have — what? — five-hundred years of experience against me?”

He clasped a hand over his chest. “You wound me, sister. Although, if you must know, I’m four hundred and seventeen.”

“I’m surprised you’re not a sack of bones on the floor.”

“I’m not that old.”

“I think I see a few grey hairs here and there.”

Lucien scoffed, but everyone noticed when he absentmindedly touched his long red locks as the last of the dinner plates materialized on the table. Feyre reached over from beside Lucien and squeezed his hand tightly under the table.

It wasn’t the drop of Helion’s magic that caused The High Lady’s eyes to glow so brightly. She was just happy. Lucien squeezed her hand back even tighter.

Azriel was the last to arrive, appearing in the hallway in a swath of shadows like he was stepping out of one of your dreams. He must have flown home today. Mist gathered into droplets that clung to his skin and hair and eyelashes like a thousand diamonds. Not even the faint shadows beneath his eyes could distract from his beauty, and you felt that familiar wash of comfort flow over your body when you caught his scent.

There was only one available seat left at the table. The one directly across from you and Lucien… and right next to Elain.

Your stomach dropped.

The seating arrangement was truly a horrible coincidence. One that no one seemed to recognize until it was too late and Azriel’s chair was screeching over the wooden floor. Both he and Elain shifted in their seats, quietly pulling them further apart. It should have made you feel better that Azriel was trying so hard to distance himself from Elain, but the only thing it emphasized was that they’d used to be so close.

Cassian looked over nervously at his brother, but Azriel was as impassive as always. The room fell into uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the clinking of silverware. If the House was a person, they would be sweating buckets.

Cassian coughed and sipped his wine. “So… lovely weather we’re having.”

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, followed by rain that began plummeting to the earth in heavy sheets.

Rhysand leaned over and smacked his brother on the back of his head and Cassian couldn’t even feign annoyance at that.

“You never fail to have incredible timing, Cassian.” Lucien drank his wine deeply and some of the tension seemed to lift from the table when everyone noticed how happy he still was. The terrible things in the world had not lessened, but Lucien felt lighter than he had in decades.

In proper Helion fashion, he kept the pleasant conversation spinning over the table, ensnaring you with the stories he tossed back and forth with Feyre.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be crazy enough to try and capture a Suriel?”

“What? Like it was meant to be difficult?”

Lucien smirked and crossed his arms. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What were the second and third times then?”

“The Suriel being a terrible busybody who was bored and wanted to spill gossip.”

Feyre flipped him off and he winked in return.

Azriel did what he always did and sat still and quiet as a mouse, eyes tracing over the flow of conversation like he knew who would speak before they’d even opened their mouths. But his eyes kept lingering on you, a smile tugging at his lips whenever one grew on yours.

Lucien noticed it the third time it happened. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Until he found himself watching the Shadowsinger almost as intensely as Azriel was watching you.

His grip tightened around his silverware.

“I am not nearly as uptight as Gwyn says I am,” you muttered, pushing around the potatoes on your plate.

You’d sunk into your seat when, to your embarrassment, the conversation had steered in your direction. Azriel had been the one to do it, casually dropping a comment about how much time you spent in Cagniv Library and the ways in which you’d already influenced the priestesses who operated there. It was the first thing he’d said all day.

“You made a fifth year apprentice cry.”

“That’s a lie, Nesta, and you know it.”

Nesta did know it, but you’d been so quiet the past few weeks. She wanted to poke fun if only to make you smile.

“Fine, that was an exaggeration. But you interrogated Farrah like she was a war criminal. Azriel would have been impressed.”

“She’s the only expert on Cyerion Age Bauldish folklore and she was missing half the citations for her thesis! It took me ages to track down some of her sources.”

“She can’t cite a book that’s over 2,000 years old with no identifiable author. Or title. Or publishing date.”

You grumbled under your breath. Something about, “Your library gives me anxiety” and “You’re making me look bad in front of Lucien.”

“Hmmm? Sorry?” Lucien tore his eyes away from where one of Azriel’s shadows had slid under the table and was now wrapping around the leg of your chair in an effort to gain your attention.

You shook your head. “Nesta’s just trying to make me look bad.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Azriel said softly, so softly he probably hadn’t even meant to say the words aloud. He looked up from his plate, shocked to hear his own voice continue on. “Maybe after this is all done, you could take on the task of reorganizing Cagniv. I’m sure you’d be saving the next Librarian more than a few headaches.”

Your wide eyes met his across the table and for a brief moment it was like you two were alone and teasing each other over tea in the middle of the night like you used to. Two shadows illuminated by candlelight in a Court that never slept.

You sat up a little straighter. “Is that a challenge?”

Azriel smiled faintly, “Maybe. Although I’m sure Bryaxis would give you a run for your money.”

You furrowed your brows. “Bryaxis?”

Rhys smirked, “He’s the resident shadow demon that lives on the bottom floor of Cagniv. He flew down once on a dare and he high-tailed it out of the abyss white as a sheet. He still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Fuck you for bringing that up, Rhys.” Cassian’s hand trembled as he brought his fork up to his lips, “You’ll never let me live that down will you?”

“You… you have a shadow demon living in your library?” Your face twisted in horror and you slammed your knife down on the table, “Is that why a third of the catalogue is missing from the shelves? I’ve been searching for ages!”

And there it was — that faint twitch of irritation in your eyes that told Azriel you were already contemplating going down to confront Bryaxis yourself. He could imagine how you’d stand there with a hand tucked into your robes, swinging a lantern from the other as you bullied the monster into letting you move the volumes someplace else. How you’d lecture him on the importance of controlling humidity when it comes to parchment preservation, and perhaps how you’d begrudgingly agree that the creature’s darkness had protected the fragile books from light exposure.

“I knew that’s what you’d focus on,” Azriel said. His voice was deeper than an ocean, and just as full of hidden meaning. He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile gracing his lips. “You just learned you spent months studying with a monster lurking nearby — a monster that has Cassian trembling in the corner—”

“I am not trembling—”

“And you’re not afraid at all. You’re… you’re incredible, Y/n.”

You pursed your lips, tamping down the delight that threatened to spill over inside of you like champagne bubbles — light and airy and lovestruck. With only a handful of sentences, Azriel had you wishing that everyone else would just leave. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as Azriel kept looking at you. It was a quiet, intimate undressing without an inch of skin needing to be revealed.

A tendril of shadow creeped up your arm and tugged your hair. The rest hovered shyly over a bag you recognized as Azriel’s, as if they knew they’d done wrong by ferrying it over from their master’s bedroom. But the timing was so perfect, how could they not?

With you watching, they tugged open the strings and spilled the contents on the floor.

To Lucien’s surprise, Azriel’s notorious stone-face went flush with color when he heard the thud of books and realized what his shadows had done.

“Wait—Y/n—” His chair groaned in protest when he shot to his feet.

But you were already holding them in your hands.

The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. Your favorite books in the entire world. Two copies each. One brand new, and one whose pages were already flared, leather spines lovingly wrinkled.

Your breath caught in your throat when you flipped through Three Knocks for a Kiss and saw Azriel’s delicate scrawl on every page. Passages had been circled and underlined with his comments left in the margins. Small tabs of paper poked out with more handwritten notes.

Azriel’s been reading these over and over again for months now. He bought them a week after you came to Velaris because he remembered you liked books that are well loved and full of memory. The nights he couldn’t sleep and dream of you, he’d perch on his windowsill and read until morning came. You’ve given him a peace he’s never known before.

A kind of peace you thought you’d been alone in feeling.

The scent of night-chilled mountains and parchment paper filled your nose.

Azriel bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes focused on your hands now clutching the books like they were gold.

“I remembered seeing them in your apartment. I was going to give them to you at some point but…” Azriel trailed off, then whispered. “I remember what you told me about your mother reading them to you.” I remember everything you’ve told me.

“I can keep them?” Your voice was a hush over the room.

You cradled them protectively against your chest, as if at any moment they’d be torn away from you. You’d been hesitant to buy new copies after the original ones had been burned down in the Alcove. Part of their charm had always been the memories of your mother reading them aloud like they were flowers growing from her lips instead of words, buzzing and honey-laden. The books felt different now, but they still felt like something. They weren’t sterile and blank. They were filled with Azriel and all the good memories he carried with him. Few and far between as they were.

“They’re yours,” Azriel breathed, “All yours.”

Lucien looked back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the wetness in your eyes and the thinly veiled adoration in Azriel’s face now that you were looking back at him. A sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him throughout dinner, but he’d repressed it. He couldn’t repress it any longer.

No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He let his shock flow through the bond and looked to Elain for confirmation.

Please tell me I’m wrong. He begged silently. Anyone but him. Literally anyone but him.

They’d yet to accept the bond, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t read each other like an open book. And right now Lucien was doing nothing to hide his seething temper.

Elain bit her pale, pink lips and nodded, confirming what he already suspected. Then, in a move of silent permission, she slid her chair six inches away from Azriel’s until she was practically sharing a seat with Nesta.

“Here we go again,” Nesta groaned and looked at Cassian. You want to get her?

Yeah I got her.

You straightened up, pressing the books to your chest in confusion. What had started off as a graciously uneventful dinner had turned into a moment of beauty that you wanted to preserve for a little while longer.

But everyone around you parted, leaning back in their chairs and pulling glasses of wine off the table before draining them in one long chug. Even Ione held her plate in her hands, popping a tomato in her mouth with interest. Mor looked nervous clutching a sweaty bottle of wine against her chest. Feyre and Rhys looked resigned and Lucien… Lucien looked livid. After all, he owed Azriel for the Blood Duel.

Cassian hoisted you out of your seat with his arms wrapped firmly around your middle and stepped back and out of the way.

Your eyes widened when Lucien stood up, skin rippling with light and power. He calmly rolled back his sleeves revealing muscular, scarred forearms, then took off his rings one by one and dropped them on the table.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

He wanted to feel it when he beat the Shadowsinger to a pulp.

Oh… Oh shit.

“Wait—Lucien!”

Lucien gritted his teeth and launched himself over the table.

Azriel didn’t flinch. His hazel eyes didn’t even flicker in surprise. In fact, you swore you saw them flutter closed in acceptance.

In another fight, Azriel might have had the advantage of wings and height, but Lucien had the wider build and the fucking motive. He slammed into the Shadowsinger’s chest and together they disappeared beneath the lip of the table before landing in a sprawl on the floor that knocked the air out of Azriel’s lungs.

Cassian winced when he heard the first of Lucien’s blows land.

“Let me go!” You kicked and squirmed in his grip, but you would have had more luck fighting a mountain. “Cassian, what the fuck?!”

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. But even I have to admit he had this coming.” There was another bloody crack. “Oh damn that sounds like it hurt.”

“Honestly, I didn't know he had it in him,” was Nesta’s only comment. Ione moved to stand beside the eldest Archeron sister so she could get a better view, a faintly amused smile on her face.

“I did,” Elain said simply. That was one of the many things she and Lucien had in common. Their general patience and understanding could only stretch so far before snapping. “Ione, perhaps you should go upstairs.”

The older woman looked offended. “Why? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Such drama.”

When Helion had fought Azriel, there’d been an elegance to it — something altogether noble about the event as the two stared each other down as equals.

This was nothing like that.

Lucien was pissed and even Azriel had to admit that he really, really deserved this one.

Lucien’s chest heaved, every blow of his fists against Azriel’s face punctuated by snarling words.

“First you go after my mate—” Punch. “Then my sister—” Punch. Punch. “Are you—” Punch. “Fucking—” Punch. “Kidding me?!”

The last blow sent Azriel’s head snapping back hard enough to crack the floor tiles. Blood splattered from his nose like a spray of paint lobed at a canvas and Azriel knew from his sudden inability to breath that it was broken.

“Lucien! Stop it!”

“We just redid the tiles,” Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temples.

Lucien growled and grabbed Azriel by the front of his leathers, throwing him over and onto the table. The long mahogany table, shiny and expensive as hell, snapped in two with a deafening bang. Silverware flew into the air, catching the light like holiday tinsel. Porcelain plates shattered and Azriel finally groaned in pain from the harsh twisting of his wings. The fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court could only lay there as green peas rolled down on top of him, gravy sinking into his hair.

“Not the table too,” Rhys whined. He’d had it specially commissioned for the River House.

Lucien dragged Azriel off the glorified heap of wood chips before tossing him back onto the floor, fist raised in the air.

“Alright! That’s enough,” Feyre said with a loud clap of her hands. “If you two want to fight, do it outside. I don’t want anyone breaking my house. Again.”

The River House sighed in relief.

Lucien paused just long enough for Rhysand to haul the redhead off his brother with little regard for anyone’s pride.

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shoving Rhys away. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

When Cassian finally let you down, you rushed over to Azriel’s side, swiping the handkerchief Rhys held out for you as you passed.

Azriel sat on the floor, face impassive despite the brutal angle of his nose and the blood sprayed over his face and neck. You cradled his face, gently nudging it this way and that as you surveyed the damage.

“Oh Azriel,” you breathed.

Bruises bloomed over his cheekbones, muddy as paint water. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his split lips bled anew when he gave you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he murmured reverently, leaning against the palm you cupped beneath his jaw.

Lucien gagged. “Can someone rip my eye out again? Both this time, please?”

“Damnit, Lucien!” You held the handkerchief up to Azriel’s nose, trying to stem the flow of blood before it could continue dripping from his chin. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Really, Y/n?! You’re defending him?!”

Azriel wrapped one arm protectively around your waist, eyes narrowed in a glare. With the blood coating his face he looked positively murderous. Like he’d done the beating and not Lucien.

“Don’t yell at her,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.

“For fuck’s sake.”

It had been a momentary outburst — a rare occurrence with Lucien that held no anger towards you. But you still felt the flare of Azriel’s power as shadows wrapped around you in a layer so thick you couldn’t see past your waist.

“Azriel—” You didn’t want another fight. “It's ok.”

“No. It’s not.”

Lucien was a mixed bag of emotions and he felt a dozen of them go off at the same time like fireworks. There was rage at the male who had the audacity to lay a hand on you, who’d hurt you if the rumours in Velaris were true. A bitter desire for revenge that still lay heavy on his hands after the utter hell he’d gone through watching Azriel and Elain for years. Protectiveness over you — his sister. And a tiny sliver of shame that grew every time you prodded the Shadowsinger’s bent nose and winced.

“Do you know?” Lucien’s voice shook.

“Do I know what, Lucien?”

He swore and looked at everyone in turn. The members of the Inner Circle were trying their damned hardest not to meet his eyes, nervously angling their gaze towards the ground or out the windows like the evening fog was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Fucking hell. You didn’t know.

Lucien reached down over your shoulder, grabbed Azriel’s nose and shoved it back into place with a loud pop.

You cringed at the sound, but Azriel didn’t react. He was well acquainted with pain and knew how to hide it.

He breathed through his reset nose, touching the swore flesh gingerly. “Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Lucien!”

He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Elain chose that moment to quietly slide her hand into his from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder so he was surrounded by the smell of wildflowers. She tapped the center of his chest, right where he’d told her he felt anchored by the bond, and then looked pointedly to where you kneeled on the ground in between Azriel’s legs.

And Azriel… Azriel looked lost to the world. Centuries spent relegated to the shadows as a Spymaster had wiped away his feelings, at least outwardly. But everyone could plainly see the way he kept his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your warm skin and the settling of his breathing the longer you held onto his jaw with careful fingers.

Of all the people. It had to be him.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways,” Elain whispered so only her mate could hear.

“Unfortunately for me.”

Lucien took in a ragged breath and clenched his fists, waiting for the worst of his anger to fade away before he collected the books back into the discarded bag and held it out for you.

A peace offering.

You pulled Azriel back onto his feet, keeping one hand firmly clasped in his, and glared at your brother. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” And he meant it.

Your lips flattened. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Azriel?”

His mismatched eyes flared with irritation when they flickered to the Shadowsinger.

Azriel stood quietly at your side, his face a motley of red, purple, and blue. Still handsome though, much to Lucien’s annoyance.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He deserved it. I’m just sorry you had to witness it.” Lucien hesitated, then said, “Y/n, I’m not usually like this. I don’t want you to think poorly of me just because of… him.” It was taking everything within him not to use more colorful language to describe the Shadowsinger. “It won’t happen again… unless you ask me to… which I hope you do.”

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know what anger looked like painted on your features, or sadness, and he didn’t want to. So, it was a pleasant surprise when you only rolled your eyes and muttered, “First Helion and now you. Fucking males,” before slinging the bag over your shoulder and tugging Azriel towards your room.

The Shadowsinger trailed after you without a second thought, heart hammering away in his chest.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

LET'S GO BIG BROTHER LUCIEEEEENNNNNNNNN

Y'all I had so much fucking fun writing the Lucien/Azriel fight scene. And to think that for a hot second I considered not writing it because I was worried it would be too repetitive to have Azriel get his ass beaten by both Helion and Lucien. Azriel, you poor, poor man, I'm sorry to have put you through all this. But also I'm not sorry at all.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts!

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #y/n x inner circle #reader x inner circle #reader x lucien #lucien x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra has my whole heart #i will fight anyone who says anything bad about him #ugh but writing the sibling dynamic between Y/n and Lucien where he's so excited and she's so worried the whole time #SADJF BCALSIGEHRJFKJANDSBHGUFI #just Lucien vanserra

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velidewrites · 2 years

Note

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

First Kiss - Elucien

Elain is the one to initiate her first kiss with Lucien.

They’re sitting in her garden, Lucien sprawled on the grass next to Elain reading a book she’d borrowed from Nesta earlier. Propped up on her arm, she turns to the last page when she realises Lucien hasn’t said anything in a while—they’ve been sitting in comfortable silence for quite some time now. It’s unlike Lucien to pass on an opportunity to smugly point out her cheeks flushing at some of the book’s more… explicit scenes. So Elain turns her head to look at him, and her breath hitches in her chest.

His eyes are closed, and his chin is lifted upwards so that his whole face is basking in the warm sunlight. The golden rays softened his expression into one of quiet content. The red hair framing Lucien’s face gleams like a gentle flame, and, as she takes him all in, Elain realises for the first time: he is the Sun she’d been craving for so long.

She doesn’t let herself think about it; she sits up and leans towards him. Her lips land on his, and his eyes shoot open with surprise. She pulls away quickly, hand travelling to her mouth, as if surprised by her own boldness. Before her mind can gather itself to form a coherent explanation, the corners of his mouth curve upwards, and his gaze holds nothing but pure bliss. His strong yet gentle hand travels into her golden-brown hair, just above the nape of her neck, and he pulls her back in.

The warmth of their kiss outshines that of the Sun itself.

#yeah #i did not plan for this to be this long #but i just couldn’t help myself #elucien has my whole heart #elucien headcanon #pro elucien #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #elucien kiss #elucien supremacy #elucien fic #acotar headcanon #acotar thoughts #acotar #my asks #ask game

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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

Note

Listen- I had an idea. I was thinking about a Lucien Vanserra and the reader feeking the bond snap? But Lucien feeling like he's not worthy of her but she tells him how pretty his eyes are? Even with the scar? I was thinking of adding the prompt 32 angst and 12 fluff maybe.

Scars and All

Lucien x Archeron!reader, Helion x reader (father, daughter dynamic)

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Prompts: Fluff- “I wish you could see the way I see you,” Angst- “You… why did it have to be you?”

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister has always been ignored and rejected by everyone. When she finally finds her mate in the Day Court who thought her heart could’ve broken more at the rejection of someone who was made to love her?

a/n i legit could not find any good headers for this so i downloaded 6 billion of them from pinterest, my sister had made this dress for herself and i had direct access to it thats why the description is so long 😭 im trying a new thing with describing facial features and stuff like that more lmk if u like it or not. ✨ not edited ✨

There was a ball in Day Court, almost all high fae were invited, and as the sister in law to the High Lord of Night Court it was compulsory for all of us to be there.

The dress I'm wearing is a masterpiece of intricacy and elegance, designed to captivate and command attention. Crafted from the finest materials, it combines delicate silk and ethereal lace, creating a harmonious blend of softness and sensuality. The color chosen is a rich midnight blue, reminiscent of the starry night sky that blankets the Night Court.

The bodice of the dress is a work of art, adorned with intricate silver and sapphire beadwork that accentuates the curves of the wearer. It plunges low, revealing a hint of the wearer's décolletage, while thin, delicate straps grace the shoulders, adding a touch of allure. The back of the dress dips in a graceful V, teasing a glimpse of smooth, exposed skin.

From the waist, the dress cascades into a flowing skirt, made of layers of diaphanous silk that sways with every step. The fabric is sheer and airy, allowing a tantalizing view of the wearer's legs as she moves, creating an alluring dance between modesty and seduction. The hemline is asymmetrical, with delicate lace trim that adds a touch of whimsy and femininity.

As I move, the dress catches the light, shimmering and sparkling like a constellation in the moonlit sky. It exudes an air of confidence and sophistication, empowering the woman who wears it to embrace her inner strength and beauty.

The dress wasn't my first choice though. My first choice was an indigo dress with a sweetheart neckline, that showed just enough of my cleavage to not be named as slutty. It had a slit that showed my whole right leg, but Elain had liked that dress after she saw it in my wardrobe, so I gave it to her.

She always got what she wanted.

I wasn't a type of feminine beauty like my sisters. They all had graceful features and beautiful dainty blonde hair. Nesta and I were the most similar with our sharp features.

But that's where the similarities ended.

My hair was a lustrous cascade of ebony strands, shimmered like a moonless night sky, reflecting an ethereal sheen with every subtle movement. Its glossy surface captured the light, revealing depths of darkness that held an irresistible allure.

Once I had slipped my heels on, I headed down the stairs where everyone else was waiting for me. My lips curved into a sly smile when everyone's attention was on me, glancing over the room, my eyes stopped at Elain. Her dress (my dress) was falling at all the wrong places.

She wasn't as curvy as me, Nesta and Feyre. I don't get why she would want the dress, it's obviously not fitting her properly. Ignoring Elain's incessant huffing, I head to Nesta and Cassian.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, sister,” I compliment, giggling.

“I love this dress on you,” she gushes.

Nesta was my best friend, my confidant, the sister who cared for me.

“But I would’ve loved to have seen the other dress on you,” she continues. “You shouldn’t have given it to Elain,”.

“Oh it’s fine, look at the absolute beauty I have found instead,” I reassure.

“Elain are you sure you don’t want to change your dress,” Feyre asks.

Nesta and I snicker behind our hands, Elain turns around towards us and I watch in glee as her faces turns into a scowl.

“I’m fine can we leave already” she snaps.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Cassian winnows Nesta, Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel and Elain, while Mor winnows me.

Landing outside the day court palace, I mentally take in the beauty of the place. The sandy blocks making the palace and the beautiful candles hung at every corner. There truly is no darkness.

I look down at my dress, skepticism glazes over my face. I shouldn’t have worn such an eye catching dress.

How was I meant to know that there would be lights everywhere?

Cauldron fucking boil me.

After some mindless chatter with Feyre about how excited she is to show me her paintings. We’re escorted inside to see the High Lord of the Day Court lounging on his throne, looking like the childish playboy he is. Even though he was centuries old.

His beauty was otherworldly, the way his onyx locks cascaded down his back like they were paid to do so. Piercing amber orbs stared down at everyone. Clad in only a white fabric that was draped over him, he had an easy going presence to him. The sharp points of his golden crown glinting under the bright lights.

But the vision next to him put the Night Court stars to a shame. He was the sun personified. Tan skin, lighter than his father’s but darker than mine. Auburn red hair, similar to his father’s in length, rested along his back. A scar ran from just above his eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes met mine, maroon and golden. His features picked apart weren’t attractive but somehow together on him, he looked like a god.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once they went back to normal I saw a single golden thread tugging. My eyes followed the thread back to Lucien.

I ran outside. Mother’s tits, I found my mate.

I gave an experimental tug on the bond revelling in the feeling of being complete. Tugging on it again, I let him know I wanted to see him.

Sitting there on the roof, I waited for five minutes, then ten, soon twenty and as quickly as my hope had been born it had faded away. But still remnants of it remained, maybe he couldn’t get away so soon, after all he was the heir to the Day Court.

Holy shit, he was the heir to the Day Court, what if he wanted nothing to do with me?

My thoughts spiralled one after the other.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning around to look at Lucien, I beckon him over.

“I’m Y/N, I already know who you are so introductions won’t be necessary” My attempt at a joke fails.

Finally taking a closer look at his face, I take in the pained expression. “Are you all right?” concern laces my voice, I stand up and whisper, “Have you had enough to eat you look like you’re about to pass out,”.

I’m about to leave and grab him some food, when he speaks, “You… why did it have to be you?”.

I freeze in place, I don’t dare to turn around. My mind flashes with memories of Feyre not wanting to teach me archery because she was busy, or how the boys at Rita’s never even looked at me, or how Elain took it upon herself to make me hate everything about me, or how everyone had their other half and I had just found mine. But not even a full hour of knowing me he hated me.

And somehow after all those years of rejection, self hatred and jealousy my heart broke one last time.

I assume he could feel it through the bond, as I wasn’t all that used to blocking people out of my mind yet.

I run down the stairs to get off the roof, to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, finding an unoccupied balcony on the opposite side of the palace, I settled there, sobbing my broken heart out. The kohl from my eyes streaming down my face. My fingers red from rubbing my stinging eyes.

I looked around at the material of the dress pillowing around me. Such a waste of such a breathtaking dress.

Soft crying filled the room, my ears were ringing as I hadn’t heard the High Lord of Day Court enter.

“My dear, may I ask what’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

Gasping I stood up and did a sorry excuse of a curtesy, “High Lord” I bowed my head.

“Helion is fine,”

He sat down right next to the place where I was sitting. His muscled arm gently tapped the spot beside him as an invitation.

I sit down, smoothing my skirts out.

As if he can sense the awkwardness he clears his throat and says “We can stay quiet or we can talk about my son or your mate?”.

My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know me?” I mutter out.

“Sunshine I’m the High Lord of Day Court and unbeknownst to you, Rhysand talks a lot about you during meetings so most of the high lords consider you a little sister, but for me you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confesses.

A man I had not met before today, considered me his daughter, and six other high lords think of me as a little sister. My eyes well up in tears, my father had been one of the only people other than Nesta to ever truely care about me. And I had cried for months when he died.

To have someone think of me as their daughter again brought out a fresh wave of tears.

As if reflex, my head rests against Helion’s shoulder, we gaze into the night sky, in a comfortable silence. A strong hand reaches out and softly taps my head in a soothing rhythm.

“It’s ok sunshine.” he whispers.

After a while my tears stain my cheeks, Helion speaks up “I think you should give your mate another chance, I think you’ve mistaken his intentions,”.

Taking in his advice, I wordlessly stand up and hug the high lord. “Thank you” I breathe out.

Pulling away, I walk through corridors in search of Lucien.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me into a dark corner, while another hand muffles my screams.

I’m about to put the training Cassian gave me into use when I see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes.

“You can’t scream, I just wanted to talk to you,” he pleaded. Once his hand reluctantly leaves my mouth, I nod as a signal for him to keep going.

“When I said what I said before, I didn’t mean it as if you weren’t good enough for me,” he started. “I meant it as I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My eyes soften at his words. “I mean yes I am devastatingly handsome,” I roll my eyes at his smug words, unable to hide my own smile when his lips twitch upwards.

“But I don’t think I could ever be good enough for you, a thousand lifetimes over,” he whispers, impossibly close to me but at the same time painfully far away.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Lucien,” I mumble cupping his cheek. “Please have me,” he murmurs.

I grab his face gently and fuse our lips together.

“I’m yours, if you’re mine,”

a/n i’m sorry girl dad!helion is just too good to resist and like imagine being like a little sister to all the high lords (instead of heron it’d be eris), hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

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zenkindoflove · 1 month

Text

So I wrote this post about Lucien deserving Elain in a fit of anger. And now I'm back with more anger because guess what guys.

Elain ALSO deserves Lucien.

I see it all the time. "Lucien deserves someone who actually likes him." Followed by bashing Elain as if she is the worst person ever and doesn't deserve love.

Please stop pretending like you're making this argument because you care about Lucien. Lucien deserves his soulmate. He deserves to have that HEA with the one person who he has a soul to soul connection with. Don't throw side characters and randos at him that do not make sense at all to his narrative or how SJM had canonized how mating bonds work. Do you honestly think Lucien is going to care that some other female wants him???? Do you even get that Lucien can easily get any female in Prythian and has gotten many of them but none of them really mattered to him the way Elain matters to him.

Listen to his words. He tells everyone he's a mated male now for a reason. He is loyal to Elain regardless of whether she is showing him desire.

Elain is a GOOD person. Just like Lucien. She is kind and thoughtful. Careful and empathetic. Strong and resilient. Elain loves with her whole heart. She loved her father when no one else could see as worthy. Not even her sisters. She loved Graysen faithfully even if he was a scumbag who didn't deserve her devotion. So, I think Elain knows what it means to love, and she is not ready to give away her heart so fast again. Especially not to someone who can see all of her.

Yes, it's hard that she isn't ready to love Lucien yet. But girl has been THROUGH it. She has been struggling with a loss of her autonomy, her future, and her identity. And all of that with the pressure of a soulmate who is a stranger. None of you can say you'd handle it perfectly either.

And guess what. Lucien, my brave and soulful man, understands that. He is the only one who acknowledged when Elain was severely depressed in ACOWAR that she suffered a trauma. He is the only one that gives her space rather than pushing his opinions or desires of what he wants her to be onto her. He knows she isn't ready. And he's waiting. Giving her space but also being present enough so she knows he is there when she is ready to get to know him. That is all he has wanted.

Jumping to the assumption that Elain "doesn't even like him" is bold. You don't know Elain's thoughts. You don't know how she really feels about Lucien as a person. We have some inklings about what she thought about the bond right after her terrible breakup that she was still mourning. We know that before Lucien left on a dangerous mission, she took a half step as if to stop him. We know that she has shown genuine care over whether he's hurt. And we know that she feels the connection to him (I can hear your heart beating through the stone) and that is never going away. We know that Elain is affected by Lucien and it's not a leap to think that she feels as drawn to him as he is to her, she just has to be ready. And maybe Elain can tell Lucien is a good male who she doesn't want to inflict her messiness on just yet. Maybe she knows to jump in too fast wouldn't be fair to him either.

So many denigrate Elain and say she is boring, selfish, or mean all because she is struggling through a tough time in her life. And even in that struggle, she still maintains her kindness. She still searches for hope. She still wants to better herself. Which sounds a lot like that mate of hers. And when she is ready to fall in love again, she will get exactly the man that she deserves. Lucien Vanserra. Because Elain deserves the unconditional love that he has to offer. Finally someone will return it back to her.

#elain archeron #pro elain #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #when i say dont throw side characters at Lucien #ship who you want to ship #fanon ships are valid #what im meaning is insisting on these fanon fantasies as canonical endgame #ive shipped many fanon ships before #and trust you dont need to twist and turn the canon for your ship #just saying

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 10 months

Text

We bleed tonight IV

Previous chapter

a/n well I return from the dead to give you the last and final chapter of this unexpected series. What a journey it has been huh...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Adapting to Day Court was quite a challenge. The months passed, but you felt nothing but an imposter. You knew you were safe, but no matter what you did, you just felt off. Afraid that the peace and quiet would be ripped away from you any minute. Still shivering at the sound of footsteps and at the shadows draping over corners of the room.

Helion, as much as he tried, didn't feel like a father to you. You appreciated that he never pushed it. Nor did he expect either of you to call him father. He was attentive and always showed up for all the meals. There was no forced bonding. If the conversation didn't flow, Helion never pushed it. Yet you had caught his hopeful eyes more than once. Watched him lean in and stagger back out of a hug. He yearned to have his kids back, but time had worked against him.

Helion talked endlessly about your mother. Madelain was a part of the conversation almost always, and it didn't surprise you, considering that he, Eris, and Lucien had been working on getting her out of Autumn. And back to where she always belonged: in her mate's arms. It was fascinating hearing Helion talk of her as if she were everything. As if all those years apart had done nothing but ignite more love between them. And you truly couldn't help but wonder if that's what a true bond felt like. Something that can't be ripped apart no matter what. No matter the distance. No matter the anger. Wrong choices. Pain caused. Always there. Always bounding two souls.

Your body hit a firm muscle wall, causing you to quickly draw your head up. "You're distracted, my lady", the familiar voice said, holding onto your hands to steady you. "My apologies. Head's all over…", You moved your hands quickly over your face, gathering your thoughts. Bringing yourself back to reality. The male smiled; his long black hair frown into a messy bun, and a smile painted his lips. "Could I offer you a walk through the gardens? Fresh air might help", he said gently, his hand suddenly moving to twist your curly hair around his fingers. Your face flushed crimson as you only found yourself nodding.

Arlo, one of the scholars who lived under Helion's protection made it all that much more bearable. You had been slumped in the library for over a week by then. Trying to distract yourself from all the chaos. The yarning in your soul. You would flip open a book. But the page wouldn't turn for hours. Unable to concentrate on anything but the voices in your head. "Pick a book, and I'll tell you what's troubling you", he had said then. Mother, did your heart skip a beat when you saw him for the first time? He was truly a handsome man. Strongly built. And with that mass of muscle, you would never even suspect him of being so soft. But even his moves were laced with a thread of gentleness. That softness that simply embraced you.

Arlo gave you a glimpse of what you wanted the most. Satisfied that longing for being no one again. Not a Vanserra anything but that. A chance for freedom once more. Nothing that promised the same highs or brought you the same lows. No, because he wasn't the man that you were chasing. Wasn't it the soul that your whole existence cried out for at night. Even with him moving between his legs and your back pressed against one of the statues in your father's gardens, you couldn't help but picture Azriel there, and you hated it. Hated that you couldn't escape the shadow singer.

Hated that the highs wore off faster than you would have liked. Because Arlo was so sweet, Mother knew how kind and caring he was, but the light he bore blinded you. It was too perfect. Too smooth. It made your damaged parts ache because you were nothing but an imperfection next to him. And that's what weighed on you. The darkness. The darkness that lingered, the darkness that was a part of you. A part that you couldn't rip out. It was there, and it was suffering between these perfect white walls and crystal chandeliers. Because this wasn't you. It had nothing that made you feel like yourself. It was a true state of static nothingness, and for that, you couldn't settle because it was leaving you lonely.

Night after night, Azriel woke up drenched in sweat. Night after night, he saw you. He felt you. And it drove him crazy. He could swear he saw glimpses of your days. He saw you. He saw that you weren't alone. He felt the sadness that twisted you. He felt the pleasure that your body scoured into. Brought by another male. Making Azriel roar at the pain and suffering it brought him. What a strange thing the band was! As if it too was blaming Azriel. Torturing him on its behalf. He saw you smiling, but he knew that your smile no longer belonged to him. No, it was brought by the male, whom you looked at as if the whole world turned around him. You looked at Azriel like that once, and now… Now, he wished he could just rip his heart out.

"Uncle Az, Uncle Az, you came", Nyx messily flew into his uncle's arms, wrapping himself around his neck. Azriel caught the boy quickly, pressing him closer to his chest. Managing to draw out a tight smile. The boy looked over his uncle's shoulder and asked, "Where's Aunty, Y/N?", the pang in Azriel's heart twisted. He hoped you would show up. You loved Nyx and the boy, well, he was fascinated by you. "She…", Azriel trills off. He never even thought about this. He never thought about how he was going to tell the people who didn't know about what happened. How he would cover up the fact that you were no longer together. That you weren't together because of him. Because Azriel lost control over his emotions and hurt you. He was one of those men. Not any better than Beron himself.

"Is she playing hide and seek?", Nyx twisted in Azriel's arms, "I need to go protect the cake". The boy quickly padded away, and Azriel caught Feyre's eyes from across the room. She held the shadow singer's gaze until a shien of sadness painted over them, and she shook her head. You weren't coming. The empty chair looked almost jarring. So out of place. So empty.

"Could I?", Azriel goes back to one of the first diners you all had. He had caught onto your sleepy frame. You tried to stay awake so hard, keeping eye contact with Cassian, who was so deep into the story that he was telling. Until Azriel spoke, and you instantly turned to him, "Could you what?", you asked, "Hold you.. I mean…", Azriel quickly cleared his throat, "Would you like to lean against me? This doesn't look too comfortable". And it wasn't. Your hand was going numb, and your wrist ached. You smiled up at him shyly. Back then, a part of him was sure that you would reject him. But you didn't. You leaned right into him, arms crossed over his neck, as you pulled yourself closer to Azriel's chest. Now his arms were empty. Cold and truly discussed him.

"Are you busy?", you cracked the doors to Lucien's office slightly. The hours were late, and the chance of him being asleep was high; however, the dim lights from beneath the door left you hopeful. "No, come in", his smooth voice rang out. Lucien quickly put his pen down. All of his attention was now set on you. You loved that about him so much. Well, learned to love. That when you needed him, he was there fully. It wasn't just a pinch of attention. He was there. Always ready. Always willing.

"You should be sleeping, missy", Lucien stated, the corner of his lips tilting upward as you frowned. "Oh, don't you start parenting me around", you padded towards his chair, opting for the little ottoman that stood close by. "What's keeping you up?", the velvet sound of Lucien's voice pierced the silence once more. Your sad eyes hurt him too deeply. Hesitation filled your senses. You didn't talk much about the past. It felt as if it had all been blurred out and painted over. And you hoped you had managed to paint over your emotions, but Lucien leaned in to read you. And within a couple of months, you were an open book to him.

"Do you miss Velaris?", your voice was almost a whisper. Lucien knew that tonight would be hard. Hence, he too opted not to go to Nyx's birthday. Leaving you here seemed wrong. And he knew that no one else around the palace would understand the sorrows within you. "Not necessarily…", the fireling trailed off; however, you quickly specified, "You miss Elain?". Lucien froze for a second before a deep sigh left his lips. "I feel too sober for this kind of conversation", you chuckled. Yet it wasn't a happy chuckle; it carried worries and sadness. The almost bitter one left a tingling loneliness. "I miss her, yes. But not seeing her makes it easier in a way," Lucien replied. His eyes were now as distant as yours as he watched ahead of himself. Without a doubt he pictured Elain.

The silence surrounded you two. Draping the mystery of the unknown all over the office, you two let the pain you hid come back to the surface. However, the next words made you stagger, "Do you think of him?" It was almost funny how no one spoke Azriel's name around the place. It was always him—the man, that guy. Helion left him out of the court meetings that were held there. A part of you was thankful for that. Until you started missing his eyes. Hoping to see them. Hoping for at least a glimpse. Because your mind was so torn.

That was the man who showed you love first. Who saw you first. Who empowered you first. He gave you a voice when no one else listened. He made you his everything. And freefalling with him was the best thing that had happened to you. But then he was the one who ripped through your happiness. Stomped on it and shredded it to pieces. You tried to justify it. You did. And it was true, that Beron was to blame. He was the one who planted the seed of doubt, but…

"There are a lot of what-ifs in my head", you admitted, pulling your legs closer to your chest. Letting your dress pool all around you, "I try to drown them out but…", "The nagging voice doesn't stop?", you only nodded your head. His shoulder sank slightly because he understood. Lucien understood.

"It was like that with Jesminda", your eyes instantly grew wide, "You don't have to", you reassured him. Knowing full well the tragedy of the story. The loss. The pain. That twisted it. "It happened long ago; it's okay", Lucien smiled sadly, running his fingers through his hair. Allowing himself a moment of silence. "We had this one big fight, and we cut it all off. I said many things that I regretted, and so did she", you watched how his expression turned sadder with every word that he spoke. "I ended up not seeing her for months; pride was too big. Until I felt like I was going insane because all I could think of was her", and you did know because that was how you felt. Because it felt as if there was a growing ocean between you. One that spread and got deeper with every passing moment. And a part of you wanted it to grow, but then there was that small version of you that cupped the water with your raw hands, trying to make the void smaller.

"But that's how you know it's love", Your eyes shot up to look at Lucien, who had been watching you this whole time. You bit the inside of your cheek as the memory surfaced.

"Why are you being so sweet?", your fingers pushed through Azriel's messy hair, "Because I love you." Azriel watched you for a heartbeat. Your hopeful eyes had been glazed with a shine that glimmered in the morning sun. As if his words had just broken a curse. As if you had never imagined anyone saying those words to you. "I love you. All of you. Had for a while now", Azriel admitted right as your arms and legs wrapped around his strong torso, bringing him closer to you.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and you quickly turned your face to the side. Hating the fact that you were crying once again, "It sucks though…", you shook your head, brushing your fingers under your eyes quickly, "Because I'm starting to think that's not enough".

The wind rippled through your hair, and the skirt of your dress fluttered behind you. The sky was pitch black. The darkness soothed the pain, and the cool nibbles of wind made you feel more alive than ever before. The sound of the fast stream beneath you chimed more like a lullaby. With hands wrapped around you, let yourself feel the sorely missed sense of belonging. There was no light; only nightfall surrounds you.

Yet your eyes seem to have opened up on their own. And there it was. The image you feared the most. One you had never pictured before, and yet it resembled the worst fear in your life. Your heart skips a beat. Right there in front of you, stood the figure you could've identified no matter where you were. Either in the brightly lit room or the darkest corners of the Earth. You wouldn't need to see it to know. All you would have to do was feel.

"No", you said under your breath. The male stood at the edge of the cliff, shoulder-slumped, his head hanging low. He was done. He was simply done. There was no sense of life about him. A shell of a soul that has given up on everything. "Don't you dare", you said a bit louder, trying to cross the distance between the two of you. The hills now seemed impossible to cross. All the sharp edges seemed to intensify. Your hands slipped alongside your feet no matter what you did; no matter how hard you tried to crawl toward him, you simply couldn't.

"Azriel, don't you dare jump", you shouted at the top of your lungs, screeching as you watched him step closer and closer. Merciless waves crashed beneath him. He was muttering something under his breath, something so distant, and it felt impossible that you could hear him, but he was calling your name and muttering as a prayer, as a cry for help. You did the same, calling and calling to him, hoping to catch his attention. His eyes filled up with tears, as helplessness tore through you, and then he jumped. That was it; he was falling, and you couldn't do anything. The most painful scream escaped your lips as you washed his body and submerged it in the cold water.

"Azriel, Azriel", you roared, falling to your knees. "Azriel", your body jolted upward. Your hands clenched the sheets beneath your body, body soaked in sweat. Your breaths were shallow. They didn't seem to want it to linger in your lungs. And then you were up. Pulling the first thing over your body. You could feel your heart pumping in your throat. Those same angry tears were now streaming down your cheeks. You stilled for a moment. Closing your eyes and clenching your fist, you felt the now familiar sense of darkness surround you. You didn't know where to go. But you trusted your heart to get you where you needed to be.

"Azriel", you muttered your mantra as the spinning stopped. The familiar scent filled your senses, subsiding your anxiety, yet you knew that you were not going to rest until you saw him. "Y/N?", it was more of a question than anything else as he stepped out of the shadows as if you were just yet another of his hallucinations. Afraid to step any closer because he might just chase you away.

Here he stood. The male you haven't seen in months. He wasn't drowning. He wasn't at the bottom of Sidra. He hadn't jumped. You let out a shaky breath. "You…", you muttered, stepping closer to Azriel, eyes still lingering all around his frame. "You jumped…" Azriel frowned; equally as much concern now laced his features. "Jumped?" You nodded your head, still fighting for air. "I saw… you…", Azriel's hands pulled you closer to him. And his warmth poured into you. The shouting in your head died down. It's all settled. "It's just a bad dream, a nightmare", he said softly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You pulled away ever so slightly so you could see him. Look at him. Watch him say, "Your eyes…", you almost gasped when you noticed the dark circles beneath them and the slightly red tinge all around. "Sleep is not on my side as of lately", he chuckled slightly, but you could feel the pain there. That same pain that you've been sharing for months now. Had he been aware all this time? Had he looked after himself at all? "Don't cry, please, love", Azriel gently wiped away the tears that you didn't even know were streaming down your cheeks once more, "I caused you enough pain". Yet you shook your head at his words, reaching up to cup his face, the need to pull him closer awakening inside you. A need to feel him almost like your skin.

"Azriel, I've been thinking…", but you never got to finish as Azriel stepped back, pulling you away from his embrace. Yet still clasping your hands, he whispered, "Don't…", and you could hear the shaking in his voice, "Don't forgive me". A sob slips past your lips as you watch him. Watched as Azriel fought the sting in his eyes. How he tried to steady himself but failed. "Truth be told, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't think I was alive until you came into my life", he continued, now allowing his thoughts to flow. Followed by the touch that stung him. Because he knew it was one of the last. That he couldn't bask in it. That he couldn't let himself enjoy the warmth of your skin. Because you would fade away eventually.

"And mother, did I fear every day that you would disappear. That I would have to find out what living without you feels like", a cry slipped past his lips. "Az…", you muttered, biting your wobbly lip, but he shook his head. "I just want you to know a few things", the shadow singer cupped your cheek, and you leaned into it. Lean into the touch that your body has been craving this whole time. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry for what I did, and believe me. Even on my dying bed, I'll be cursing myself for it", he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours as your nails dug into his shoulders, "And I love you. I love you so much". You didn't trust your words, so you never gave him an answer. And he never got to know that a small part of you forgave him. That in the future, your paths may cross, and maybe just maybe love will be the only emotion there. That it was now. That your heart beats for him and him only.

And no, this love wasn't perfect. But neither were you two. Perfect wasn't a thing that could exist in this world. Perfection belonged in museums and exhibitions but not in day-to-day life. And maybe letting yourself bleed for the night in each other's arms was better than not bleeding at all. And maybe ripping that golden thread from each other's souls was the best thing you could've done for one another that night.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan @bubybubsters

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel #shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 months

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azriel x eris | 3,6k words | warnings: none | masterlist

The past few days have flown by faster than expected, leaving Azriel feeling on edge, as if he's sitting on needles – or more accurately , standing on them.

It's only been a week since he last saw Eris, and his family still has no idea about their clandestine meeting. And they will never find out about it. There's a lingering fear that Eris might say something to reveal their secret meeting in the Autumn Court, and everything will blow up and his family will find out.

Eris on the other hand can also never find out Azriel didn't go there under Rhysand's order but entirely of his own volition. What would it look like? And what explanation would Azriel have for it?

Now, he is standing in the throne room of the Hewn City alongside his brothers, anticipating Eris' arrival. Though he wished to remain in the Court of Dreams, he had to come here.

It almost felt like something was pulling him to come here. When he stood in front of the large mirror in the corner of his bedroom, checking his appearance once more before leaving, there was this tug on his ribcage, urging him to move, to come here. It had been a prickling sensation within him, almost like something tickled his soul.

However, the discussion with Rhys about whether Elain would accompany them or not dampened that sensation.

“Shouldn’t Elain stay with Nyx?”

Rhys turned to him, frowning. “Elain wants to join us, Madja stays with Nyx.” End of discussion. “I will fly with Elain, you will carry my mate.”

Was Rhys truly still worried he would make a move on Elain?

Bastard, Azriel thought.

Azriel’s stands tall, shoulders squared and suddenly the tug is back, akin to his heart that all of a sudden beats a little faster within his chest. He can’t make out the source of this reaction, but he guesses it might have to do with Eris' imminent arrival.

Nervousness is a feeling Azriel is not really used to, or at least hasn’t felt in the past years. Now he does feel it and it adds to his confusion about the whole situation with the prince of the Autumn Court.

Trying to calm his senses, Azriel looses a long breath. His eyes trail over the polished ebony walls. He is not paying attention to the conversation Keir and Rhysand are having, a haze forming in his mind which makes forming coherent thoughts kind of difficult.

Through his lashes he looks at the onyx ceiling, the beasts that are carved into it always somehow reminding him of the beast his father is. The beast his stepmother is. The beast that Beron is.

It’s similar to the beasts on thrones atop the dais are fashioned out of, the thrones that Rhys and Feyre occupy.

Azriel lowers his gaze and rolls back his shoulder, feeling a little ache in his neck from yet another sleepless night. When he looks to his side, hoping to ease some of the tension in his neck and shoulders, he realises that he is not the only person that feels nervous, or uncomfortable.

Elain’s discomfort is tangible even in the air, her brows are furrowed, her slim shoulders slightly slouched. He wonders if it has to do with being here and the eerie, gloomy atmosphere of the Hewn City that seems to dim her sunshine. Or has it to do with…Lucien being away?

The Vanserra male hasn’t been here for a while, Azriel thinks. Last time he saw them talking for probably the first time, but this was weeks ago. Since then…he hasn’t come back. Azriel has no idea if he will return. Maybe this year he won’t come here for Solstice.

Azriel lowers his chin, inhaling deeply, the same moment the large, black doors open, creaking as they slowly reveal the male behind them.

For Azriel it feels like time stands still. He can’t breath when his eyes land on Eris strolling in through the large ebony doors, his feet within his luxurious boots casually gliding over polished floor. The Autumn Court heir holds his chin high, everything in his demeanour arrogant, proud, cunning. The perfect portrayal of the Autumn Court prince.

Eris truly is a prince in his own right, he doesn’t need Beron for anything – not for power, not for strength, not for knowledge, not for glory. However, another thought sparks in Azriel’s mind; Eris is not only prince, he is the future High Lord of Autumn. There is nothing but power and strength within his stroll, within his appearance. He walks gracefully, elegantly, and Azriel can’t look away.

His Adam’s apple bobs when awareness dawns on him. Eris is wearing a cobalt jacket, not the same as last year, no, a different one. An embroidery of diamonds of the same colour now adorns either breast of the jacket.

But Azriel can only focus on one thing — Eris is truly wearing a cobalt jacket, one of the same colour as Azriel’s siphons.

The Autumn Court air is breathtaking. Azriel feels his chest warm, a little kernel of an indescribable emotion now exploding and letting heat seep into every cell of his body. Azriel doesn’t like the feeling but at the same time he does. But he can’t feel this way, not for Eris.

Not for a male who is his declared nemesis and he will soon wed a new Lady of the Autumn Court. There is no place for Azriel. He will never be the person on Eris‘ side. Can never be. He will never be the most important person in Eris’ life. And he will never be worthy of the title as consort of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

So, Azriel can never allow these feelings to take root in his chest. He needs to get rid of them, free himself from his desire, from his covert desire, for the Autumn Court prince.

Eris is most definitely doing much better at ignoring whatever he feels for Azriel. It is as if the anger and pain from their meeting a week ago still sits deep because Eris doesn’t even deign Azriel a look. He formally greets Rhysand and Feyre, and then bows at Cass, Nesta and Elain, and of course Keir. They exchange a few words but none of necessity and Eris only seems half-focused.

“We shall discuss things at a later point,” Rhys says, only for Eris and his inner circle to hear, out of the earshot of Keir.

Eris tips his chin in silent agreement, hands casually folded behind his back as he stands strong and tall, a look of arrogance on his face.

However, his eyes betray him – they are swirling pits of worry, regret, or pain, endless but also empty. Yet, his gaze searches, moving through the crowds of people gathered in the throne room. He looks around, trying not to make it too obvious that he is looking for something. For someone.

And is Elain who can read him, can read his expression and can see the concern within it. She finally says, her voice steady, but a touch sad, “He isn’t here. Lu—your brother, he isn’t here.”

Eris blinks, once, twice and then he folds his arm in front of his body and bows. “Lady Elain, it is my pleasure to finally properly meet you. I should have introduced myself more properly before. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court.”

Her body remains as stiff as a poker, gaze remained fixed on the Autumn Court heir. Her chest heaves visibly and then with a small smile on her lips, she bows her head. “It is my pleasure, Lord Eris.”

Their eyes meet and now also a soft, and kind smile blooms on Eris‘ face – something hardly anyone has ever seen on him. Slowly, he extends a hand, “Would you like to dance with me, my lady.”

Azriel is furious, nearly bursting out of his own skin; that is not how it was planned. Not at all. Eris was supposed to dance with Nesta and most definitely not Elain.

Azriel wants to step in, end this before it starts, but he remains where he is, shoulder leaning against a black marble pillar that grounds him. His eyes are trained on Eris and in the prince’s expression, he spots a kind of polite patience he has never seen there before. But there is also interest, and a hint of intrigue, etched upon his handsome face.

Eris wants to get to know his brother’s mate, Azriel gathers, that is the reason why he wants to dance with her. He doesn’t do it because of her beauty, nor because he is interested in her (at least no in the way Azriel thought at first). Eris is interested in her, but for a wholly different reason than Azriel thought.

And yet, he can’t shake the feeling of utter envy. But he isn’t jealous of Eris now about to dance with Elain, rather of Elain dancing—

That is bullshit. His fingers curl towards his palms, knuckles turning white, marred skin stretching until it hurts.

“I think…” Elain’s voice is hushed as she speaks and takes a delicate step forward. It feels like the whole throne room holds its breath – will she decline, like she has declined all of Lucien‘s advances, or will she do it for the sake of the alliance between Night and Day?

Or because she wants to meet her mate‘s family, despite not having accepted the bond with Lucien yet.

“I would like to dance with you, Lord Eris.” Her small hand easily slides into Eris‘ extended one and he curtsies, before guiding her onto the dance floor.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Carefully, the Autumn Court heir leads Elain into the middle of the dancefloor and it feels like the whole room holds its breath; Azriel definitely does.

“May I?” Eris asks in a polite voice, his hand hovering near Elain’s waist.

“You may.” She smiles up at him, tipping back her chin. Eris’ gaze meets hers and he has to admit that his brother’s mate is quite a delicate female, soft and lovely, her eyes pure and kind. She is what Lucien deserves, his little brother’s counterpart.

Eris gently rests his warm palm on her waist, his other hand taking hers into his. He always makes sure he treats her gently, not wanting to overstep a line. He can sense her nervousness, it has a very strong scent, and he doesn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.

She has not fully adapted to the fae life and that is visible very easily, but she is on a good way, Eris thinks.

“Were you surprised when I asked you to dance?” Eris looks down at her, Elain is quite short in front of him. His body is towering over hers, but he can feel that he isn’t the reason for her nervousness, rather the situation of them dancing in front of so many people, of the attention being on them. On her.

“No.” Elain tilts her chin upward, her fawn eyes meeting his amber ones. “You probably have questions. Questions I don’t think I have an answer to.”

Eris seems surprised over this answer. Is he so easy to read or is she just…what is her hidden power?

“What makes you think I have questions?”

A smile graces her lips and she nearly steps onto Eris toes, but he guides her, leads her and avoids it. “You have a curious look on your face, and if you didn’t have questions you could have also asked my sisters to dance.”

“Your sister is mated now,” Eris answers, as they glide over the floor, music and chatter surrounding them. The music of the small orchestra pulses through the air, guiding their every step as they twirl and move over the polished ground.

“So am I.” Her voice betrays her, but Eris has already known anyway.

“You haven’t accepted the bond yet.” Not a question. And observation. Eris would be able to scent the bond, scent his brother. It is completely obvious they haven’t accepted the bond yet.

“No.” Elain averts her gaze as if she is no longer able to look him in the eyes.

“Lucien is a good male.”

“I know,” Elain breathes. “But he is fae and way too good for me. I will never be worthy of him.”

That answer doesn’t surprise Eris, it rather shocks him. How could she ever say something like that. “Lady El—”

“Can we please focus on dancing, Lord Eris.” Her fingertips dig into his shoulder, and there is enough pain in her voice that Eris decides to stay calm. He won’t push her. He has no right to do so. No one has.

And going into detail about it all would be too much for this dance that will end soon anyway – Lucien and Elain should do it at their pace, and Eris has no doubt that one day they will find their way to each other.

The dance continues in silence. Elain‘s feet move rather effortlessly across the floor, every step, turn, and twirl elegant, not as skilled as Nesta, but still graceful thanks to Eris leading them.

When Eris twirls her, her dress flares around her like a dark blue halo. She is a whirlwind of energy, her feet barely touching the floor, her body bending and moving with the music, hands tightly holding onto Eris, who spins her, lifts her and smiles when his eyes meet hers.

“I know we finished this conversation, but I need you to know something.” Eris spins her and then catches her in her arms again. “Don’t allow these thoughts to take root within your mind. You are worthy of my brother, and whoever makes you feel like you don’t, is wrong.”

His gaze lifts, and his eyes, like glowing embers, meet those of hazel, shining like moonlight falling upon a forest. Azriel is looking directly at him, has been watching them –him– the whole time and a smug look appears on the Autumn Court heir‘s face.

He twirls the Elain again, spinning her so often that her feet almost leave the ground, yet her small frame is always safe in his strong hold. She is Lucien’s mate and hence also his to protect, his to keep safe.

“One more thing.” The music is calming, the piece almost coming to an end. Elain gives him a curious look, waiting for him to continue.

“You are my brother‘s mate – no matter if you’ve accepted the bond or not. It makes you my family as well. That is why I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to get to know you, Elain.”

Eris dips his chin. “And no matter what will happen between you and Lucien, you will always have my protection.”

If he weren’t leading them, Elain would have probably stopped moving. Her lips part slightly and her eyes widen. “Thank you.”

The music ends, Eris wants to step back but Elain squeezes his hand, keeping him close. “If it makes me your family, you are also my family.” A long pause follows.

The words seem difficult to find, voicing them even harder, but Elain inhales deeply and finally continues. “Which means if you ever need a place to…stay, to escape to, you will find shelter with me.”

He hasn’t expected that. Out of everything she could have said, he has not expected that and it warms an odd part of his chest that he has thought to be long dead, rotten and wrenched. Tears burn behind his eyes and he starts to blink rapidly. Eris squeezes her hand in return, not able to answer, too baffled by her kind offering. And his throat is too dry.

Elain steps away from him. “It was my pleasure meeting you, Lord Eris.” A small smile is on her lips. Then she turns and walks back toward her sister.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Eris halts right next to Azriel. So close their shoulders brush, and slowly Eris‘ scent seeps into Azriel’s nostrils until it is the only thing the shadowsinger can focus on.

The Autumn Court prince smells like a whisper of smoke, accompanied by the scent of freshly cut wood with musky hues and a subtle hint of earth after rain.

Eris doesn’t quite know why he walked to Azriel, and not back to Keir or the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. But it was almost like something pulled him into this direction, a little tug on his body and he followed, letting himself be guided by it.

Eris' eyes follow Elain as she weaves her way through the crowds of people to her sister and the Illyrian brute who have also just returned from their dance.

“She is beautiful," Eris says, voice nothing more than a whisper of admiration. “A ray of sunshine even within this place of utter darkness.”

He inhales deeply, Azriel’s scent now all he can smell.

"But blue isn’t her colour.”

Azriel has to admit that as well — neither blue nor black are her colours even though he had hoped so not more than a year ago.

"Green is,” Eris continues. “Just like it is Lucien‘s colour." A faint smile graces his handsome face.

Azriel swallows and clears his throat. He doesn’t want to talk about Lucien, nor Elain. “We are not here to talk about Lucien again.”

"No. No, we are not.” Eris rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m here to apologise.” Eris keeps his voice low so only Azriel can hear him. “For what I said about your father. I had no intention to hurt you, nor to get involved in your personal affairs.”

Eris’s gaze stays trained on the bustling crowd of dancing people, his broad chest heaving with deep inhales while he drinks in Azriel’s scent.

Night-chilled mist and cedar – beguiling.

Yet, Eris doesn’t let it show what the shadowsinger’s scent does to him, how taut his skin grows solely from smelling Azriel.

“Your jaw?” Azriel gives Eris a sidelong look. There is still a faint hint of a bruise on the side of his face, but it has faded mostly. Thank the Cauldron.

“Almost healed.” Eris inhales deeply, closes his eyes and turns to Azriel who slowly parts his lips, his brows creased.

“I‘m still sorry for it.”

“I deserved it.” There is a cold in Eris’ voice, that makes Azriel shudder and his stomach coils. He knows that this is what Eris has probably always been telling himself when Beron punishes him. Tortures him.

It makes Azriel want to reach out, take his hand into his own and just hold him. But that wouldn’t work for several reasons – they are in public first and foremost all. And they are enemies, and lastly there is the issue of his hands. Wouldn’t the Autumn Court heir with his polished and immaculate appearance feel disgusted about him? Would he not be grossed out from Azriel touching him?

“No,” Azriel says, his heart heavy with emotion. “No you didn’t. You deserve a lot, but not that.”

A small smirk tugs on Eris’ mouth, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “Rhysand offered me to stay for the night.”

A subtle gasp escapes Azriel’s lips, and a flicker of shock passes over his face.

Eris will stay here. In the Night Court. In the Moonstone Palace. Like back then. When they…kissed.

The shadowsinger feels how his hands turn clammy, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

He has thought his unexplainable feelings and the confusion would vanish when he just stays away from the heir for long enough. And Eris staying here, being so close to him once again, will most definitely not help in fighting against the turmoil raging within him.

And it is almost like Rhys has read his mind (which is impossible, Azriel’s mental defences are always up) because his brother scraps a talon against the shield in his mind, asking for entrance.

Azriel lets him in.

“You will escort Eris to the Moonstone Palace. Keep an eye on him.”

Azriel whips his head into the direction of the High Lord, Rhys’ hand intertwined with Feyre’s while he’s sitting in a sprawl atop his throne. Before Azriel can protest, the High Lord starts talking again.

“Ally or not, I don’t feel good about letting him stay there all alone.” Rhysand looks directly into Azriel’s eyes, even across the distance. “I can trust you with fulfilling this job, Az, can’t I?”

“Pulling rank?” A snarl follows Azriel’s question.

A cold chuckle returns from Rhys, his expression smug, arrogant. “If needed, yes.”

Azriel turns away, glaring out at the dancing people. “I’m taking you there.”

Dumbfounded, Eris turns to the male next to him, his auburn brows curled. “You do what?”

“Rhysand offered you to stay here – I‘m taking you there. The Moonstone palace,” Azriel snaps, anger boiling inside of him, mingling with the overwhelming sensation of Eris being so close to him.

Eris only gives him a long look, not saying anything, but Azriel can tell exactly what he is thinking about. Because he is thinking about the same.

Will this evening end with another kiss? Or more?

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival@owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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witch-and-her-witcher · 3 months

Text

Chapter Fourteen

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

For my darling @asnowfern!

Ao3 | Chapter 14/24

~*~

The energy is off in the house. Nesta feels it right away, her inner ear buzzing with a higher frequency than even the thread of the bond reawoken since Cassian’s return.

She’d fallen back to sleep once Cassian had left, exhaustion winning out over her anxious heart.

There’s little thought put into her clothing, but Nesta does take the time to comb through her hair and run a cool cloth over her face to remove the worst signs of her hard sleep.

As her slippered foot hits the landing, Nesta catches a glimpse into the living room. Azriel’s here, wings pulled tight and arms crossed. Cassian is sitting with one ankle crossed over a knee, arms placed on either side of one of the chairs that accommodates wings.

Whoever they’re both looking at, tension runs down Azriel’s spine and Cassian has a military chill to his features, a cocky expression that’s clearly meant to intimidate.

Elain’s pleasant voice rises from within.

If these two bats are interrogating her sister —

“My health has been quite good, Lady. Thank you for asking.”

Nesta’s steps stutter. She knows that fourth voice. The Spring Court Emissary.

She throws her shoulders back and imagines that invisible cord pulling tight along her spine that her mother always spoke of. “We have a visitor?” Nesta asks, strutting into the room as if she owns it.

Silently, she wishes she’d decided to put a dress on today, as Elain always has the good sense to do.

But, oh well, in pants the emissary would have to accept her.

Lucien Vanserra bows with a flourish to her entrance.

“Lady Nesta, a pleasure.”

“Well met, Lord Vanserra.”

“Please, Lucien only.”

“‘Lord’ is a stretch, considering you’ve been kicked out of your Court.”

Nesta cuts a look at Azriel, surprised by the petty remark. Although his features are expressionless, the unnatural shadows writhe in agitation around his beautiful face. Another Illyrian with a clear connection to this male. She had never gotten around to prodding Cassian over whatever history existed between them and she regrets it.

“Azriel, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought the Lady required your watch?” Nesta asks, pointedly choosing the side of the room as far from her husband as possible, setting her bottom delicately on the arm of Elain’s chair.

Azriel’s frigid stare flicks between the impeccably dressed emissary and Nesta. “I’ve been momentarily relieved by the Morrigan. So that I can personally see to the visit of the Spring Emissary.”

“Not an easy affair,” Lucien says, a strained smile all too telling. “Your High Lord is well-versed in treaties and how to circumnavigate very straight forward wording … But I appreciate the compromise our Courts found.”

“Are you implying something about our High Lord’s honor in upholding the Treaty?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Shadowsinger,” Lucien responds flippantly. As if every one of Azriel’s cold words aren’t edged with the promise of violence.

Nesta has never seen him so outwardly hostile. The image of the Shadowsinger who serves the High Lord personally is much clearer in this light. Azriel’s fingers itch towards the dagger sheathed on his thigh and she can only imagine where he wishes to strike the handsome lord with it.

“Easy there,” Lucien adds calmly, both his good and metal eye tracking Azriel’s movements. “Wouldn’t want to cause an inter-court incident, would we?”

“You mean another?” Azriel grinds out.

Lucien sighs. “Are you going to make me pay for my brother’s sins this whole visit?”

“Yes,” Cassian and Azriel answer in unison. Cassian continues on. “It was heinous. All Vanserras deserve to be held liable for it.”

“As logical as the hoops I had to jump through just to check on the safety and happiness of my citizens.” Lucien’s tone is more clipped, moving to clasp his hands behind his back in a courtly show of annoyance while still warily eyeing Azriel’s all too knife happy fingers. “I’d like to talk with the Ladies without chaperones.”

“Not happening,” Cassian says, jaw set and brows lowered. His hand swipes the air in a movement of finality.

“Cassian —”

“No, Nesta. You don’t understand what his kin are capable of.”

Nesta smiles as sweetly as a viper. “You can educate me on the matter after the emissary has had time to discuss matters with us. Alone.”

“Like I said. Not happening.”

The room feels at once sub-zero temperatures and the blazing inferno of hell itself as Nesta and Cassian lock eyes. Stubborn, pig-headed male.

Nesta gnashes her teeth while trying to look politely enraged. A Lady perturbed rather than the vicious, rabid thing clanging and scratching to be let loose in the pit of her stomach.

Tries, at least.

Bless his heart, Lucien steps into the middle of the tension with the debonair calm of … really, no one Nesta has witnessed. It must take a slightly insane fae to travel to the most northern tip of Prythian and hand himself over to the mercy of a notoriously insidious Court just to check on two mortal women.

“Can I offer a solution? A spell cast for auditory privacy.”

“No —”

“Yes, do it.” If looks could kill, Nesta would have at least stabbed Cassian by now if not incinerated him and those spread legs and strong hands gripping the arms of his chair —

The transition to only hearing the inside of the intimate bubble is jarring.

Nesta recoils as Lucien sits on the end table in front of the sisters, resting his elbows on his knees. It's ridiculously casual and rakish considering the tight trousers he’s sporting, yet again, and the way this position gives a clear view of his … assets.

Elain is not unaffected.

Her sister gives a quaking inhale.

“Ladies … First and foremost, are you safe?”

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing #CYLMWIHM

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redbleedingrose · 1 year

Text

Lucien x Fem!Reader NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, MDNI!!!!! Minors look away frl!!! This is pure filth!

Masterlist

A/N: What a huge sigh of relief that my tags are officially working again. The stress of it all was insane and like I mentioned before, it was super disheartening. I appreciate every single one of you who has been patient and so kind throughout this whole process of me getting to know/explore/post on tumblr. As always, I appreciate all the likes, comments, and reblogs! The interaction means so much to me, and I absolutely adore each and every one of you! Remember to take a sip of water, eat something nutritious, and take your meds! My asks are always open if you ever need someone to talk to! 🥰

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Lucien and you are such cuddlers after sex, practically clinging to each other, and pressing soft kisses into each others skin wherever you can reach.

You both kind of just like to take some time together in the silence of the night, with the trees rustling in the wind, and come down from your highs in peace.

You both don’t say much, but honestly, not much needs to be said. Your love for each other, your appreciation for each other, your adoration for one another is felt in the moments you share during sex and after sex as you press against each other in a tight embrace.

Lucien just likes to take time and admire you in the moonlight, taking in every dip and curve that is your body, thumbing the stretch marks, and brushing his hand from your hip to waist and back down again.

You fall asleep holding each other, and part of the aftercare process continues in the morning when he brings you pastries and breakfast sandwiches from your favorite bakery that is nearby, and runs you a bath while you eat.

Usually the bath is where you discuss anything you really liked or disliked from the night prior, and if there are any changes that you want to make and also listen to any of his input (though it's usually just him telling you how perfect you are)

If it is a morning after you were dominant, then of course, you are making him homemade breakfast followed with a warm bath and some cuddles. Making sure the male is hydrated and asking him for his feedback.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Lucien loves your face, the way it is structured, your smile “Gods your lips, honey, your fucking lips”, the shape and color of your eyes, the small wrinkles that appear at the corner of your eyes as you beam at him, the way your entire face lights up when you laugh, the way your eyebrows arch in indignation at his teasing, the way your lips lift up into a smug smirk whenever you tease him, the way the apples of your cheek flush at his compliments. Lucien can and will stare at you with any chance that he gets, and is often teased by everyone around him because he makes it so painfully obvious how smitten he is.

Lucien’s back muscles are so fucking defined, you have no words. Any time his shirt comes off, so do your panties tbh. I think you realize that Lucien is an extremely powerful male, but chooses diplomacy and kindness as a weapon compared to strength and anger, and maybe that is something that he grew to learn with Beron as a father. It is a major turn on that he is just a good male at heart. Someone who values peace and choice, rather than any sort of force or anger. And lets be honest, his back muscles showcase the youngest Vanserra is fucking ripped, and he could lift you up and carry you with ease. (and then toss you into bed before ravishing you)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mother above, when Lucien cums, he is spilling out a hot thick load fast, and it is almost never ending. The male will cum on you, in you, wherever you want he is not too picky. But let me just say, when he cums in you, Gods, your orgasm just keeps going because of the sensation of his hot load filling you.

Also Lucien loves when you cum on his tongue, you are either cuming on his tongue or cock. Rarely does he let you finish on his fingers, and when he does, his fingers jump straight into his mouth where he can suck and lick off your juices.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You and Lucien are filthy for each other mother above help you cuz you both are going to hell

He really loves when you spit into his mouth, especially when you are riding him and you grip his jaw forcing it open staring into his eyes as you spit.

Once… you were sitting across from Morr discussing gods know what because you don’t even remember now… this male… this fucking male walks up behind you all smooth and easy with a dirty smirk and eyes glinting with lust… he doesn’t say a single word… he just slides his hand around your throat and tilts your head up, one finger sliding up to pull your chin open… in the middle of your conversation with Morr mind you… and fuCKING SPITS INTO YOUR MOUTH… AND THEN WINKS AT YOU BEFORE SAUNTERING AWAY WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING…

Poor Morr, the woman was too stunned to speak

And so were you

Like you literally just brought your head down to face Morr again and it was beet red… AND THEN YOU SWALLOWED IT

Anyways, it was a spiritual journey for you and Lucien that night, you both saw the heavens during your climaxes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucien is a very experienced male, he definitely has had sex with both men and women. He knows what he is doing, and he knows what he likes and dislikes, and he is not afraid to be open about it.

Given he is experienced… Lucien once made you cum on his tongue in 23 seconds… he counted…

Safe to say, you never walk away from the male with no less than 6 orgasms…

mother save your pussy

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lucien really likes to take you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. There is just a deep penetration there that allows for him to hit all the right spots with every thrust, and for him, the look on your face as your eyes glaze over, cheeks flush, lips part with your tongue slipping out looking a bit cockdrunk is a major turn on for him.

And yes he does spit on your tongue and into your mouth… “Swallow f’me honey.” he whispers in such a soft smug filthy voice…

And yes he does put a hand around your throat to feel it bob as you swallow

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think Lucien tends to be pretty goofy during sex unlike our Illyrian males or autumn heir. Lucien, at his heart and very core, is a good, kind, easy going male.

And that translates into his love making. He is obviously serious in some moments, especially when it comes to teasing you and the foreplay, but he is not afraid to share a giggle with you here and there if you break character

And it makes things so easy going in your relationship and during sex, because it reminds you that at the end of the day, this is for both of you to enjoy and find intimacy in each other.

All in all, he is not afraid to tell a joke while he is pounding into you… his raspy laugh is… well… lets just say it is the sexiest sound you have ever heard and yes you have absolutely cum to the sound alone.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Lucien does trim, but he does not shave down there. He likes his happy trail and so do you.

The carpet does match the drapes ;)

Lucien is also the kind of male to prefer you all natural baby, but he does not care whether you choose to shave or not, he will always be willing to go to town with you.

Hair is just not a big concern for him, and it isn’t for you either.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Man… Lucien is a fucking romantic.

One moment, he is railing into you trying to break your back on his cock, and the next he is moving into a slow sensual rhythm, grinding into you and whispering how much he loves you.

I like to think that Lucien gets extremely emotional at the thought of you, at the thought of having you, at the thought of loving you, and at the thought of you reciprocating any feelings towards him.

The poor male suffered enough with Jesminda’s death, and sometimes, it is overwhelming for him to think that he was able to move on. I think it is terrifying for him because he comes to the realization whenever you are with him, and whenever you are so close to him, that you could be taken away at a moments notice… and he doesn’t think he would survive it

So he is making sure you know, at the end of every orgasm between you, “I love you and I can’t live without you. I just can’t,” while tears begin to brim his reddened eyes, “Please. Please honey. Don’t ever leave me.” It comes out in a heartbreaking whisper as you pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as he continues to gyrate into you, and sliding your arms around his neck to bring his head down to yours, “I promise Luc, I am never leaving you.”

Def one of his subby moments

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think it depends on where you are to be honest. Lucien is constantly craving you, your body, your orgasms and if he isn’t around you, then he will absolutely be fisting his cock thinking about tonguing your cunt.

You also really enjoy mutual masturbation, it is an amazing method of foreplay and the thought of Lucien watching you with hunger in his eyes, unable to touch you as you finger yourself… it's unmatched.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lucien is a switch and you cannot convince me otherwise. He is dominant most of the time, but there are times when he just needs you to take control and show him how much you adore and need him.

Spitting… I have nothing else to say your honor… except…

Once he was eating you out and he spit on your pussy and you immediately came, crossing your shaking thighs and trapping his head between them so fast… in which he proceeded to overstimulate you.

Anyway, overstimulation is another kink of his

Choking - this comes pretty hand in hand with the spitting kink to be honest, he just loves the sensation of feeling your throat bob as you swallow, and your panties are soaked from the control this male has over you.

Hair pulling… this male has the longest most luscious locks, you can’t tell me he doesn’t like the occasional tug in his hair that is trying to pull his head closer to your cunt as he is eating you out.

Begging and edging!!! He loves having you all desperate and crying out for him to touch you in any way. I think it is definitely a confidence booster for him, but also this huge reassurance that you crave him just as much as he craves and desires you. So it absolutely goes both ways.

Sprinkling in a little humiliation and degradation… that time he spit into your mouth while Morr was sitting right across from you… while you were in the middle of a conversation… say less.

But it's also the way he croaks out a laugh at you begging for his spit while he fucks you into oblivion, “What a cockdrunk slut you are begging for my spit, huh honey? My cockdrunk slut.”

Instant orgasm

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I think Lucien likes to take you anywhere where you can find privacy: the bar bathroom bent over the sink, the sauna in the spa he took you to for vacation, on every surface of your house, literally anywhere where there are no prying eyes.

What I mean to say is there is no specific favorite place because he just wants you whenever he can have you.

This male is feral for you, but is also willing to protect you with his life. And is also very possessive, and is also prone to getting jealous of both males and females that turn their gaze towards you. maybe in slight part because he fears that one day you will leave him for another (though he would never admit it).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You are a tease. An absolute menace when it comes to Lucien. The poor male is constantly dealing with your games, but oh do you love to play them. Because the reward is always worth it.

And so is the punishment

You only need to whisper some dirty remark into his ear, and the male is done for.

Now sometimes, you get him going completely unintentionally, and these are the times where he is desperate to prove himself to you. Anytime you unintentionally make him jealous by laughing at something Cassian says or giving any male the slightest bit of attention, poor baby Lucien is trying to drag you away to make you forget about any other male.

These are the nights he needs you to take over… the nights he needs you to control him and tell him what to do. The nights you edge him and make him beg to cum. The nights that you overstimulate him, and leave him basking in a warm afterglow from all your need and love for him being poured into his soul.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Lucien is not willing to share you in any capacity. Your body is his and his body is yours. He is also not willing to share himself in any capacity.

Lucien does like to beg, but I think he has a limit there. There is a fine line for him in what is an acceptable amount of teasing and what is too much for him… what would leave him overstimulated and not in the good way… what would leave him feeling desperate and undeserving of you. It is not a line either of you want to cross, and so you make sure to maintain good reassurance throughout with check ins during playtime.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I don’t know if I have already mentioned this, but both of you are givers in nature. I think it does depend on the mood whether or not you are on your knees for him or he is on his knees for you, but to remediate that, you use the 69 position a TON.

It is absolutely the perfect way for you both to give and receive at the same time, and the moans/groans/whimpers that both of you are making vibrates throughout your entire body and into each other's sexes.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I think it starts off fast for you both… you tend to be desperate for each other at the beginning of the night

As you both continue throughout the evening, the urgency of it all decreases, but the want and need is still there and you will continue with soft, slow, and sensual sex.

Both of you take control at different points throughout the night, only reaffirming your love and want for the other.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I think when Lucien is feeling desperate for you, then you cannot do quickies because once he starts, he won't stop until you are pushing him away from the ache in your cunt.

However… you are always pushing Lucien into the other room and pulling his pants down to suck on his cock, hissing at him to “Shut your mouth Luc, only I get to hear your moans.”

The way he whimpers in response as he presses his lips together, flush rising up his neck spreading to his face and ears…

So I would like to think that you love quickies and he is impartial to them

(poor male is shaky by the time you are done with him and everyone knows what you two were up to)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Lucien is always game to experiment as long as they land within both of your boundaries. He never wants to make you feel uncomfortable, nor does he want to cross any boundaries for himself.

I mentioned how Lucien tends to be private in terms of having sex… the male is not private with his foreplay as evidence with his stunt in front of Morr.

Which he did spend the night dominating you… but I guarantee…

He was punished the next morning

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lucien can go 5-6 rounds in a night before he needs a break, maybe a quick nap, before waking up and continuing

He can last for a while when it is foreplay and he is not inside you, but the second your warm silk walls envelope his cock, the male is done for and is rutting into you trying to find his peak.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes absolutely, for both you and him.

His favorite for himself is a butt plug → you would say you were surprised but are you really?

His favorite for you are nipple clamps… idk he loves your nipples…

Mommy kink??? It is possible…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You both tease each other an insane amount to be honest.

It truly depends on whether he is feeling dominant or submissive in the moment, because that will determine his level and way of teasing

If he is dominant, he is openly teasing you and trying to get you aroused. He doesn’t care if you are sitting at the dinner table in front of the inner circle, he is rubbing circles into your inner thighs inching up…

If Luc is feeling subby… well he is trying to get a rise out of you so that you will drag him away to whatever corner you deem fit to punish him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lucien in private tends to be very vocal with his whimpers and moans. He has this characteristic roar whenever he cums in you, and gods does it have your cunt clenching down hard when he does

But he can also be very quiet for whenever you are feeling particularly risky and are dragging him into empty conference rooms to have your way with him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lucien has definitely had sex with Tamlin, but he always mentions to you how he didn’t really enjoy himself because he didn’t get to cum that night.

It was a one time thing, but idk… whenever Lucien brings it up (which is very rarely in all fairness) it doesn’t sit well with you

So the next time you were in spring, you pulled him into the library and sucked on his cock, and demanded he be loud (the only time you have allowed him to be loud) so that Tamlin could hear what it sounds like to actually pleasure a male.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucien is a good 9 inches, and he is fucking thick.

He is thicker than any male mentioned in the ACOTAR series… don’t argue with me on this… yes, even thicker than Cassian

You can feel every ridge, every vein, every dip, every curve of his cock within you.

It is always an adjustment to accommodate the fullness of him, always a slight stretch at your core. It is the most delicious sensation, and gods when he starts pumping in and out, in and out, in and out????

RIP your pussy

No wonder you get cockdrunk on him

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Its pretty high, you guys will have sex and love making sessions multiple times a day. I think both of you do a good job of equally initiating sex.

Like it's not only Lucien, it is also you… it makes it very easy for him to believe you when you tell him how much you actually need him and want him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The warmth and cuddling after sex knocks poor baby Lucien out. He is usually exhausted after all is said and done, and after the aftercare portion, he is absolutely the first to fall asleep.

You continue to rub his chest or arms or back, wherever you have access to, and continue to whisper words of affirmations as he sleeps

His breathing and warmth is usually what sends you into sleep after a while of just being with his sleeping form.

#lucien acotar #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #omg tags please work #idk if you are still working #please i am begging you for the love of god

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iamheadcanontrash-deactivated · 2 years

Note

can i request a headcanon for acotar lucien vanserra x reader and it’s all fluff of what it’d be like to date/be lucien’s mate? Thank you :)

Hello anon! My heart is bursting with the thought of being Lucien's mate. This man deserves the world.

Some Lucien Fluff:

(I’m writing this in the context that Beron is ☠️ and Eris is Lord of Autumn Court and Lady of Autumn is no longer threatened by an abuser)

I hope you’re ready for this man to adore you. He’s been waiting his whole life for this, and he finally has it.

He’d at first be nervous for sure, because this man has some trauma with lovers in the past, but he’s ready to give his whole heart to you.

Also, just wait until he finds out he’s going to be the next Lord of Day Court. He’s so excited to share that moment with you.

Gentle caresses in bed, watching you with adoring eyes

The banter !!!

You meet his mother… she adores you. She’s so glad her son has what he deserves. He’s fought tooth and nail to be happy.

Horse rides together throughout day court

When you’re enjoying yourself, either cooking or simply reading, sometimes you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s just observing you, and he has the slightest smile on his face, and as soon as you turn your head, he goes back to whatever he was doing. It makes your heart flutter.

You can hardly do any wrong in his eyes. He’s been through a lot, and has incredible patience when it comes with you. He might make a smart remark every now and then, but it’s out of love, and what is life without banter, yanno?

At night, he loves to hold you close before you drift to sleep and run his hands through your hair, having sleepy quiet conversations. He has his hand on your waist, rubbing the skin that’s slightly exposed there.

His love language is definitely quality time and words of affirmation. He’ll help you with prepping dinner, gardening, or putting children to bed. His heart gushes when you tell him you’re grateful he’s with you, or that he’s helpful, smart, or how much you love him.

And one night, you feel so much love for him and you kiss the scar on his eye. He starts to cry.

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar headcanon #acotar

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haveihitanerve · 2 months

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Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

reminder that Lucien did not growl these words to elain. He did not scream them, he did not bellow them, he did not order them onto her like a possessive claim. He whispered them, voice breaking, in shock and awe, as he realizes that she is his mate, not Jesminda. He whispers them, heart shattering as he realizes what she feels. Rhys said Feyre was as good as shouting her emotions, her thoughts, her feelings down the bond when she didn't shield. perhaps it because rhys is a daemi. or perhaps its just because feyre was newly fae. lucien can feel elains thoughts and feelings just the same way rhys can hear and feel feyres.

reminder that lucien went to elain, slowly, gently, breaking the wards that the fucking king of hybern had placed on him to keep him at bay from helping, and wrapped her in his jacket, to shield her, to cover her, to warm her.

reminder that lucien left the spring court, the place that had been his home, his whole life for a very long time, not because he wanted to claim elain, but just because he wanted to see her. just once

reminder that he left the night court when elain was clearly not okay, offering her space and time, understanding that he was not what was right for her, even if it tore at him. (rhys says how much harder the bond affects males to females)

reminder that lucien was feyre's first friend in the fae realm

reminder that Lucien's eye can see through glamours, and yet he still did not reveal Feyre to Tamlin

reminder that Lucien Vanserra is a good male who does not deserve a single piece of fucking shit the fandom and sjm has thrown at him. he watched the love of his life be beheaded in front of him, by his father, while his brothers held him back. he watched who he thought of as his best friend trap his actual best friend and was powerless to stop it. I fucking love Lucien Vanserra, the Sam Cortland of the ACOTAR series, and if you don't, i don't think we read the same books

Lucien Vanserra is what would have happened to Feyre if she hadn't found the Night Court

#lucien my beloved #lucien vanserra #i fucking adore lucien and need him to be happy #acotar #he and feyre can tell rhys to fuck off and run into the sunset together i dont care #he can marry elain #he could even end up with fucking cassian #or he could end up alone #i dont give two fucks as long as he is happy #he is such a traumatized little boy and he deserves it

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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Chapter 14 13 (still can’t count lmao) - the Lucien & Nesta brotp

‘And if there is any sign of him here-’

‘- I am to winnow Nesta directly to you. I am capable of following an order – particularly one you have issued seven times.’

Nesta counted on her fingers. ‘I’d put that figure at eight actually.’

Lucien threw her a wink, but Azriel’s shadows darkened around him. It was enough for Lucien to shuffle away with apprehension.

Nesta gave her male a comforting embrace. He had a meeting at the Hewn City with both Mor’s father and Eris Vanserra in attendance so the tension was already running high. Cassian had been given a duty in Illyria so the pair did not come to blows in such close quarters. They did not doubt Eris’ ability to sniff out any instability either to exploit. Azriel would have been fine if Rhys hadn’t passed a comment that Cassian was in a volatile state. Nesta understood. His heart was worn on his sleeve and Eris always capitalised on that – Azriel, at least, usually managed his temper around Eris and Keir. Volatile had pealed as a warning bell to Azriel though and he had become frantic in his desperation to protect Nesta.

‘I’m being over cautious,’ he admitted.

‘Paranoid is the term I would use.’

‘Lucien,’ Nesta warned, keeping her arms locked around Azriel’s body.

The male had become a reluctant ally, promising to stay with Nesta in the event of an enraged bat paying a visit and demanding she mate with him. She had to wonder how much of it was due to the goodness of Lucien’s character versus working his way towards Elain and winning favour with her fearsome elder sister.

‘Go. You’ll be late.’

‘Anything, Lucien, you winnow Nesta to-’

‘To Illyria. I know.’

Nesta pressed her hands to Azriel’s hard chest. ‘Don’t tease him, Lucien. I’d hate to spend my day scrubbing your blood from the carpet.’

If Nesta thought it might be awkward to spend time in close quarters with the male, she was proved wrong. Lucien dripped with charm and warmth, engaging Nesta in conversation, making her laugh as the minutes ticked by – even going as far as volunteering to help in the kitchen. She had judged him too harshly initially, Nesta could admit. Lucien had proved time and time again that he was a good male. But how could she still not find repulsion to the mating bond that had snapped into place mere seconds after Elain had emerged from the Cauldron?

Lucien had pledged his allegiance to the Night Court when he had no other choice. It was not the case now; Lucien would be desired by many courts. He had a very calm demeanour, always fulfilled his role, and looked good doing it. Nesta had to wonder if he merely remained serving a court he did not fit into for the rare moments when he crossed paths with Elain.

It was cruel to think such a thing. If he wasn’t fae – if the bond hadn’t snapped – then Nesta knew Lucien was the type of male that would be good for Elain. He was polite, well-educated, caring. More than that, he was happy. He didn’t swallow up the space and dominate it, he was kind and thoughtful with laughter coming easily to him. Take away the golden eye and exile, then Lucien would be the type of male Elain would be encouraged to marry. And how different was an arranged marriage made by parents versus a mating bond decided by fate? Nesta would have accepted the former without hesitation, trusting her parents to make an advantageous match. It was complicated.

‘Cauldron, your face has flashed through a whole spectrum of emotions while you’ve stared at the fire.’

‘Oh. Thinking. Apologies.’

‘Do you want to play three men’s morris?’

Nesta bubbled up with delight as Lucien pulled the small, wooden square from his pocket. ‘How do you know it?’

‘Jurian,’ he explained with a wry smile.

And Lucien knew mortal customs thanks to his time there. The bridge that Elain needed – though she’d nestled herself well and truly into Feyre’s family now.

Their game soon progressed to full blown chess at the table and Lucien was far smarter than she’d given him credit for. Nesta couldn’t work out any of his tells. She could only beat Azriel because his shadows helped her to cheat. They had no loyalties truly.

As they played, Lucien spoke about his life in the Autumn Court at her request. On the topic of his education, Nesta listened with fascination. Their lives sounded similar; hours spent with a grizzled tutor who taught them mathematics, literature, music, geography, history – though of course the content was different – all ready to package them off as the perfect partner in a marriage that would bring wealth or properties.

It made her squirm to think of how similar Lucien was to them and the ringing voice in her head saying that he would be good for Elain did not relent. No, Nesta would never insist upon it simply because of a faerie bond. She’d hate for any to think the same of her own bond. They could be wrong. Hers was wrong. Elain deserved the choice. Lucien too.

It was set to be a long meeting in the Hewn City so Lucien was glad to have an excuse not to attend. Nesta did not want to know how or when Azriel had collared him to be her guard dog that day. Likely he was smart enough to realise that Lucien would need Nesta’s blessing if there was any hope of a future with Elain and he’d never do anything to cause an issue for her and Azriel. He’d not breathed a word of finding them together either.

A casual mood had slipped into the room so both lay on the couch with their legs beside the other reading. His flames moved silently in the fire place in ribbons of gold and orange as he read one of her books. Of course, he’d managed to pick the filthiest one on her shelf. Every now and then, Nesta saw over the top of her own book the way his eyebrows kept quirking upwards or the stifled snorts at whatever passage he read.

At the knock of the door, he snapped the book shut as if scandalised that somebody might catch him reading a romance about a handsome farmer who charmed the lady of the court.

They moved into position by the door. Lucien’s fingers brushed against her own as she pulled the door open a crack, ready to whisk her away without a second’s hesitation.

‘Oh. Elain. Uh. A moment, please.’

Nesta made a show of shutting the door then fumbling with the chain to give Lucien time to scurry into the bedroom to hide. Nesta didn’t need questions about why Lucien was in her house – especially as nobody had ever paid her a visit before.

‘Come in,’ she said gesturing to the small space.

Elain struggled to hide her discomfort at the lodgings, despite their own cottage being in a far worse state. Her home was clean, tidy, warm. It lacked the decadence of Feyre’s homes but it was the best Nesta could manage and she’d done it all on her own. Elain did sit eventually after scrutinising the room thoroughly.

‘Are you expecting company?’ Elain gestured to the small table where a freshly brewed pot of tea sat along with two cups.

‘Oh. A habit. I forgot Azriel wasn’t here.’ A terrible lie. Worse still was the fire place that was burning without any sort of fuel. Elain had never lit a fire in her life so hopefully would not pay attention to it.

‘I came to talk to you.’

‘I presumed as much,’ Nesta replied, struggling to keep the bite from her voice.

Of course, Elain would not come to visit, to be the sisters they had once been, but only to give voice to the inner circle’s musings. Elain was always the safest option for such things; nobody would ever shout at her, least of all Nesta who had protected her for so long.

‘Go on then,’ Nesta snapped. ‘Say what you have to say.’

Elain blinked at her tone then brushed the skirts of her pretty, pink dress. ‘Very well. Nesta, would you reconsider your decision? It’s causing issues with the running of the court like today, for instance. Mor said that-’

‘I care not for her opinion.’

She blushed slightly as another argument was prepared. ‘When Rhysand came here a few days ago… It’s put strain on him and Feyre too. She thought they were in agreement about this. It could drive a wedge between them.’

‘What Rhysand does is not influenced at all by me. He is his own person. You are trying to turn my relationship into a battle.’

‘No, that’s not it at all, Nesta. Please, you must understand. The change is difficult. Azriel so rarely comes to the house any more. It’s upsetting everybody because he’s chosen…’ She wrung her fingers in her hands then her eyes flicked to the tea pot. If she thought Nesta was about to pour the tea for her in the middle of this, she was more spoilt than Nesta realised. ‘Is it… Is it just to cause a fuss?’

It felt like a punch to the gut. Nesta had moved here to be away from them all. She had gone to the restaurant at Elain’s request. She would have quite happily remained in this place alone if Azriel hadn’t sought her out. Their love had been unexpected, yes – but to think that Nesta would go to these lengths purely out of spite? They had kept their relationship hidden for months to not cause a fuss. To not cause any pain.

‘That was extraordinarily cruel – from you especially, Elain.’ It hurt in ways Nesta could not even explain. Her anger couldn’t rise to the surface; it was held down by pain. She had to blink away tears.

‘Couldn’t you just try to become friends with Cassian? You’re not expected to accept the bond tomorrow, Nesta. It would be much easier for everybody if-’

‘I am in love with Azriel. He is my partner, Elain. He is the male that I want to father my children. No, I will not try to fall in love with somebody else because it makes your lives easier. How dare you say such a thing to me?’

Those big doe eyes blinked at her in confusion. It was an act that Nesta had seen her hone in front of their father to make him give into his beloved. She’d fallen for it enough too.

‘You are a hypocrite of the worst kind.’

Elain clutched a hand across her chest like it could shield her. ‘The bond isn’t the curse you believe it to be. Feyre is so happy with Rhysand. It’s just causing so much upset.’

‘When did I ever pressure you to abandon your ridiculous pining for Graysen to become friends with Lucien?’

‘That’s different,’ she said quickly.

‘From where I’m standing it’s a mirror,’ Nesta said, her voice was quiet and raw with pain. She’d had no doubts that Elain would support her in this. So utterly wrong. The sister that she had fought for and protected all this time had never grown a spine to do the same for her. ‘You get choice but I do not? My happiness is insignificant compared to the happiness of your new, little family. Azriel’s happiness is not put into consideration either.’

When Elain tried to speak and explain herself, Nesta cut her off. ‘When I pushed against this bond, I didn’t just fight for my right to choose, but you as well, Elain. Why should I have bothered? Should I be awaiting an invitation to your mating ceremony to Lucien? Are you just causing a fuss? Instead of ignoring him at every damn occasion like a petulant child, try and be his friend. We need Lucien so be an obedient girl and fuck him to secure the alliance for your beloved court.’

The bedroom door opened. Lucien’s face remained neutral but Elain had turned beet red. It had not been a set up but likely felt that way to her. And Nesta was glad for it. That awful part of her was glad to see Elain flustered around Lucien.

‘Nesta, I think that’s enough.’

It didn’t feel like enough. She wanted Elain to feel ashamed. Lucien was too good to ever pressure Elain into accepting their mating bond, he wouldn’t bellow and demand it or haunt her until she gave in. He was kind enough to open the front door for her as she fled from the apartment.

The male flopped down into her vacated seat with a sigh.

‘Sorry you heard that. It’s nothing personal against you. More a war with the Cauldron itself.’

‘If anybody would go to war against the Cauldron, it would be you. I understand,’ he said, gently. ‘I had a love before. I was certain the bond would snap. I can’t imagine anybody filling the void that she left. It is difficult for me too.’

Nesta nodded in understanding. She hadn’t considered whether males ever pushed against the bond too – whether Lucien had been just as horrified by it when it snapped between them.

‘If it helps, the Cauldron liked Elain enough to make her a seer. I’m sure it chose you with good intentions whereas I attacked it. I’m fairly certain Cassian is my punishment.’

Lucien let out an exasperated laugh. ‘The good news is, the tea is the perfect drinking temperature for us.’

***

The meeting was made longer by Eris who was never able to shut his mouth. He passed comment on everything. Had a remark about everything. Made a witty joke that only he ever found funny repeatedly. Azriel hated the male. There was not one part of Eris Vanserra that was good.

Mor had been agitated throughout, biting her nails or wrapping a lock of her hair around her finger – but she hadn’t leant on Azriel for support. She had no Cassian to rely on either. It might do her good, Azriel realised, to stand on her own two feet without bowing into fear in the presence of Eris and her father. He’d have been there if she needed somebody to lean on; he’d said as much. He was still her friend despite everything. But he knew his value now.

When it was done, Azriel was agitated still, desperate to get back to ensure that Nesta was well. He’d be a fool to trust Lucien entirely, but he couldn’t hide Nesta away in Rosehall whenever he became anxious, no matter how much he truly wanted to. It would not do her any good to press his fear upon her. And through it all, he knew Cassian better than any. He’d never willingly hurt Nesta. At least not until the bond was truly severed – then they would have to batten down the hatches and brace for the storm.

‘Come for dinner,’ Rhys pleaded.

Azriel caught the tightness to Feyre’s expression. Her hello had been brief and cold in Velaris before they’d winnowed. Likely his words last week hadn’t been well received. It was wrong of him to bring up Tamlin – and he had apologised – but she’d grown frostier towards him. Mor too strode down the corridor of the city she hated without checking he was beside her like usual.

‘It’s alright. I’ll go back home.’

‘Bring Nesta,’ he said. ‘Please.’

‘I’m not going to put her in a situation where she’s criticised simply for being in love.’ Azriel murmured. He loved Nesta too much to expose her to their pecking.

Rhys shook his head tersely, following the females to the balcony where they’d return to Velaris. ‘It won’t be like that. What you have deserves celebrating. The others will come around. Az, please. You can’t hide from us forever.’

And it was the truth. There would be times they’d all need to be in each other’s presence; Solstice for instance or Starfall which was only a couple of months away. He’d rather not have to prepare for battle each time he met with his family, but if that was what it took then Azriel would do it. Nesta was the most precious person in his life.

‘I’ll ask her. No promises.’

Rhys let out a chuckle. ‘We know who’s in charge at home.

‘Says you,’ Azriel said nodding towards Feyre who had a face like thunder.

Azriel winnowed directly home. He let the silence fall around him, breathing in a sigh of relief in the stairwell that he was away from the Hewn City. It was a putrid place full of males who didn’t care who they stepped on to reach the top.

Both Nesta and Lucien were slumped on the couch with a glass of wine in hand.

‘What’s happened? Did he come here?’

Nesta’s face brightened at the sight of him, but her smile didn’t meet her grey eyes. And it was unlike her to drink at all, especially not in the day.

She sunk into his embrace with a noise of contentment.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘My company is so poor that Nesta needed to drown her sorrows.’

The male rose. Azriel would be angry at him later for drinking when he’d needed his reactions to be fast. He could tell something wasn’t right with Nesta. She was clinging to him without feeling self-conscious. The touch was more important than her embarrassment to need somebody else.

Lucien said a brief goodbye then departed into the sunset.

‘Will you talk now?’ Azriel asked, kissing the female he loved.

Nesta did eventually. He sensed her hesitation to admit what Elain had said for fear of retribution. It stung to hear it from the sister that Nesta had always given everything for. Her own hurt was clear to see; what was worse was that Nesta still felt like she was betraying Elain by confessing what she’d said. Elain was naïve. Or at least he’d always thought she was. Pretty and docile, never stepping a foot wrong. This was not naivety. This was planned for when Nesta would be alone. It was calculated and callous.

‘I thought she’d be on our side,’ he admitted.

Nesta gave a frustrated sigh. ‘There are no sides. This is not a war. It’s not us against Cassian. He is your brother.’

When Nesta’s voice cracked, it broke a part of Azriel. This had put so much weight on her shoulders; weight she shouldn’t have to bear for choosing to love him. They had committed no crime yet Nesta was being painted as a wicked female sent to upheave the calm.

They needed to see them, just as Rhys had, to know their love was genuine. But they weren’t a spectacle to be gawped at. Nobody else had faced as much scrutiny.

‘Get dressed. Something light. We’re going for dinner.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘I don’t want to go there.’

Azriel smoothed the wayward strands of hair that had wriggled free from her coronet throughout the day. ‘We’re going to the Summer Court. We’ll go to the sea.’

Her face softened with hope. And it was enough. They’d keep going through this storm because they had something worth fighting for.

When Nesta emerged from the bedroom in a cornflower blue, silk dress, Azriel’s jaw dropped to the floor. She’d pulled the pins from her golden-brown hair so it fell in waves over one shoulder. It was tempting to skip dinner and have dessert here. A shadow darted from his body to twirl around Nesta.

‘My beautiful Nesta.’

They were heading out of the door, ready to winnow to catch the sunset when Rhys’s voice echoed in the chamber of his mind.

Am I to expect two extra dinner guests then?

Their absence would not be blamed on Nesta. Azriel was done entirely with anybody saying a bad word about her. She would not burn for a crime that was not hers. Not his Nesta who sang tavern songs to him over an ale and who had never once been embarrassed to be with a bastard-born Illyrian, who loved every difficult part of him. He'd be her shield. Her sword. He'd be the fires of hell if she wished it.

Ask Elain why we aren’t coming.

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @theleafpile @loysydark @rarephloxes @wannawriteyouabook

#nesta vs the buffer

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florencemtrash · 2 months

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hello!! i absolutely love love lovee your inkbird series!! and the latest chapter?? literally so aeughaeufha i am here for everything rn!! and finally having lucien??? im literally so excited rn

Lucien is my absolute FAVORITE addition to the story. I know I write mostly Azriel x Reader/Azriel x Y/n fanfic, but in real life, I would pick Lucien in a heartbeat. Like, how could I not?????!!!! Even when reading ACOTAR I was like... Feyre are you fucking blind?

#lucien vanserra has my whole heart #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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crazy-ache · 2 months

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❤️💌🤖🦋🦈📚

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

From Courting Lucien Vanserra, chapter 2: Because were she to ever wear the dress, those stitched sunflowers, with their bright yellow petals, would be a declaration to the whole world exactly what his heart intended. That she was the sun and he was the humble sunflower, forever loyal to follow her, forever in adoration of her shine; for the sunflower only grows facing the sun’s light, in an eternal chase of her orbit. It didn’t matter where either of them moved, he would be there, waiting to bloom at her smile.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Oh it's gotta be anything arranged marriage or marriage of convenience trope. I'm quite fond of Call Me Selfish, Call Me Wrecked for that reason. It's also one of my favorite tropes to read in fanfiction across all fandoms.

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

Very few people IRL know I write fanfiction, and my husband is one of them because it's what I'm often doing at night. All of my friends know I am writer (they think prose or poetry) but I don't go around sharing I write fanfiction haha. It's just a side of my life I like to keep within fandom!

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

It is a tie between Lucien and Elain in all honesty. Lucien might win slightly more than Elain, only because it is fun to dive into his history and angst and complicated emotions.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

I would say the toughest are the ones I feel less attached to in the fandom. Feyre is particularly hard for me to pinpoint in characterization, perhaps because she has changed so much over the course of the books.

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Why dear friend, I will always share YOU! Everyone should read @zenkindoflove on A03. Every single fic is a winner.

#ask game

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shi-daisy · 6 months

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Chapter 13 and 14 have me reeling omg ma'am! 😭 The fluff 💗 the twists😱 the smut 🥵 We been blessed! I love how Tamlin is finally getting his healing arc/found family/Lucien romance because the way you write our boy is so cuteeeee!!! The flashbacks were adorable, Lucien is so handsome and adorable and I need both of them to be happy and cherished forever. Goodbye SJM canon this is what's canon for me now!

Few questions tho, given that you've named all the other 'nameless' characters like the Vanserra family, Tamlin's family, and other secondary characters is there are a reason why you haven't named Rhysand's family? Like is it because you're looking for a fitting name or a story reason?

Also, given that the new Dusk Court is seemingly a mix of Greece and Japan do you have headcannons for the other courts? What would Spring, Autumn or Winter be?

Finally I can't wait to see more of the Njght Court rebellion. After the whole Dusk reveal I'm excited to see their reactions and maybe backstory, and them with the Valkyries because Gwyn and Lunara would be such a cute friendship. Also Grim is best boy I love this man he's had one scene and now I need a prequel we stan himbo dad warrior in this house! He's what Cassian should've been!

Speaking of, Nesta needs to come back and read everyone for filth! Book 2 might be all about her but she so fun to read here too, especially as Tam's sister (they'd be cute as a ship too but platonic siblings Nestlin is life)

Anyway so sorry for the long message, I love your fic and I'm cheering you on! 💗

Aaaaaaaaa!!!! Anon c'mere and let me hug you! You're so sweet! Thank you so much!!! 🥰🥰🥰 it's been a joy to write this fic and while I already loved Tamlin and Lucien both as individuals and as a ship before, thanks to the fic they've gone up to otp status in my heart. I'm so excited to keep bringing you my boys and their adventures be it sweet and fluffy or high stakes.

Okay so to answer your questions, the reason I haven't named Rhysand's family (or the other bat boys family) is less interesting that twist a or story and has more to do with spite. I am spiteful AF when it comes to the page hogging bats and I refuse to give them any once of development or thought other than antagosnist. So I have zero intention of naming any of those characters because I know SJM would grant them names before the Acheron parents or the Vanserras or any other more important character. So no, I'm just a petty spiteful slug in that case. Sorry to disappoint.

Glad to hear you cought the Greece/Japan mix invented for Dusk. Given that Night seems to be based on Greece along with Middle East at least from what little world building we were shown I thought it would be cool to have them have Greek influence due to Night's colonization but also retain the Japanese inspired culture and aesthetic that was theirs before their fall. I have some ideas for the other courts but these are just headcanons.

Spring- Scottland, France

Summer- Kingdom of Hawaii, Polynesian, Caribbean

Autumn- Spain, Ireland

Winter- Russia, Norway, Korea

Day- Madagascar, Kenya, Roman Empire

Dawn- India, China, Vietnam

Dusk- Japan, Greece, England (Gothic period)

Night- Greece, Middle East

You shall get more Night Court rebellion content soon, I love this group and trust me you haven't met them all yet, lots of peeps want Rhys gone. Gwyn and Lunara will be good pals don't you worry, priestess stick together and I really want more Gwyn she is a delight. Seriously considering a prequel with them at some point.

Funny you mention Grim, he's the favorite so far out of the Rebellion oc's and while I love this precious edgy himbo he is not of my creation @maplesamurai made him as an NPC for one of our D&D campaigns and I've been obsessed with him since then (that version of him and of D&D Lunara are also a couple, mates in every universe baby!) So thank him for the best boy and best himbo. Cassian's got nothing on the best dilf!

Nesta too will get more page time, I'm just keeping from adding too much before her own book, while her healing is mostly happening offscreen and she will be stable by the time of book 2 girlie will have stuff to deal with later that I need to put off for now, but do expect her to get a good moment along with the rest of the squad. Also yes platonic Nestlin for life! They'd be an awesome ship, but as siblings they're a winning combo. Eris look out Nesta now has an older brother to keep an eye on ya once you're official!

Don't ever worry about long questions anon, I live for comments and asks and any attention so I'm absolutely delighted that you sent me this and so grateful you love my silly fix it fic! Thanks so much and I hope I've answered your question! 💙

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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End Game

I wanna be your first string

Summary: Lucien Vanserra has been in love with Elain Archeron for as long as he's known her. With time ticking down before her inevitable engagement to Graysen, Lucien only has one goal: convince her to be his

Note: You asked for We Never Go Out Of Style Elucien, so here you go. Thanks to @lucienvxnserra for the idea about the movie theater.

Read on AO3

It was slow motion, waiting to see if the ball was going to sneak past the goalie. Lucien couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd or even the beat of his own heart. Sweat dripped down his face, lungs aching. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—

The goalie went left, tricked by the way he’d positioned his body. The ball went right. The world returned with the sound of a buzzer and the screaming of his teammates. Five bodies slammed into his own, nearly dragging him to the ground. Lucien was grinning, trapped among sweaty red jersey that reeked of exertion. He’d won on the penalty shoot-out, all but assuring their position in the playoffs, and more importantly, made him look really fucking good in front of those Premire and MLS scouts.

He turned, scanning the crowd for the only face he wanted to see. There, halfway up and wrapped in a red and gold scarf, was Elain Archeron. She was grinning, waving a little flag beside blonde Arina. He exhaled a breath, relieved she’d seen it, too. Elain was hardly a soccer fan but she was his friend, and on occasion, she’d come and watch him play.

Lucien jogged over to them, still wearing his cleats, when the game was officially over and his team was done slapping his ass. Elain had a jacket wrapped around her body, a smile on her face…and Graysen’s promise ring on her middle finger. Any day now, Graysen Nolan was going to replace it with an actual diamond and it was going to be all over for Lucien.

“Nice game,” Arina praised, wearing a whole ass blanket to ward off the autumn chill.

“You did so well,” Elain added, eyes sparkling. Lucien wanted to be like Jurian just off to the side, making out with his girlfriend enthusiastically. Instead he was standing in front of Elain Archeron, well aware he had no claim to her.

“Thanks girls,” he replied smoothly, hand on his taut stomach in an attempt to control his breathing. Elain was looking at it, likely with distaste given how disgusting he was. He needed to shower if he was going to stand before her, hopeful and foolish as he was.

“Want to get dinner?” Elain asked, eyes finding his face again. She’d glanced down at his shins, cut up and bruised from being kicked all night. Lucien really wanted an ice bath and to swallow an entire bottle of ibuprofen. If Elain was offering to spend more time with him, though…

“You two go,” Arina, the goddess, said breezily as she looked down at her phone. “I’ve got an exam at seven am so it’s way past my bedtime.”

“You sure?” Lucien asked her, just so he didn’t seem too obvious and desperate. “Dinners on me.”

She hesitated. “Tempting, but I shouldn’t. Seriously, go without me this time.”

Elain didn’t back out, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Want to go now?” she asked.

“I ah…I should probably shower—”

“Oh—”

“But we can go now,” he amended hastily. “Just let me change my shoes.”

Lucien almost tripped over his own feet, embarrassing for an athlete hoping to play professionally and yet Elain still had the same effect on him she did when she’d walked into algebra back in high school. He’d never gotten a chance—Graysen Nolan scooped her up on day two while Lucien was trying to figure out what to say to her and hadn’t relinquished his hold.

Lucien couldn’t blame him for that. He wouldn’t have, either. They’d broken up briefly twice, and both times Lucien thought it made him a bastard to try and slide in and immediately take advantage of her. What kind of friend was he?

And that was half the problem. Lucien would take whatever she was offering, and if all Elain ever wanted was friendship, Lucien wanted to be her friend. Friends cared about each other and he loved her. Loved her so stupidly that when Graysen was making her happy, it made him happy. And miserable. And then happy again.

Elain was still waiting in her thin jacket. Lucien draped his own much warmer, much thicker one over her shoulders before falling into step with her. She slid her arms through the sleeves immediately, turning her face to breathe into his collar.

“Does it smell like sweat?” he asked, catching how she flushed.

“Nope. You do, though.”

“I tried to shower,” he reminded her, walking beneath the harsh stadium lights for the exit. There was diner just off campus, an easy walk despite Lucien’s aching legs.

“I like you better this way,” Elain told him, unaware of how tight he suddenly felt.

“Oh? You prefer when I’m disgusting?” he replied, careful to keep his voice light. Still, he couldn’t help the fantasy that popped into his mind—sweaty for an entirely different reason.

“It reminds me you’re still a real person,” she teased, poking him in the side. Lucien was tempted to shake out his long hair, well aware Elain liked when he wore it down. Not that she’d ever said so, of course, but Lucien paid attention.

He knew everything about her.

Everything but why she stayed with Graysen. He didn’t touch that topic and she very rarely brought Graysen up when he was around. It was both a blessing and a curse. Every morning Lucien woke up and checked his socials, terrified he was going to see Elain engaged.

He pulled open the glass door of the greasy diner, swallowing his guilt a little. Elain picked a booth at the very end of the joint and he slid across from her though he desperately wanted to sit beside her.

“Is dinner really on you?” she asked, picking up a sticky menu with interest. As if he’d ever made her pay for anything since they’d met. What good was being a Vanserra if he couldn’t pick up her tab?

“Always,” he agreed nonchalantly, wincing at the way his ass was aching. He’d fallen hard on the turf, likely bruising his tailbone.

“Are you allowed to eat any of this?” she questioned, looking over the menu. She was so pretty—her long, golden brown hair was half pulled off her face with a pretty red ribbon. She had a soft, baby blue sweater dress and even softer looking leggings with black booties that made her seem just a little taller. He wanted to touch her.

Lucien kept his hands to himself.

“What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Lucien replied with a wink. “And if I don’t eat something besides chicken and rice I might go insane.”

“I’ll bet your abs look great, though.”

“Want to see?” he couldn’t help but ask. They did look great, though fuck, at what cost? Elain’s eyes lit up, head nodding. Lucien glanced around—the waitress was too busy flirting with a table of firefighters to notice them. He lifted up his jersey and flexed as hard as he could, making him seem like pure, carved muscle. In a way, that was what he was—Lucien lived and died in the gym. If he wasn’t practicing or in class there was an expectation that he would be working out in the gym. Tack that on to this brutal diet and Lucien had never looked better, even if he felt like shit. He was counting the days until the season was done so he could dive face first into a whole loaf of bread and butter without anyone breathing over his shoulders.

Elain bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, you look uh…you look…great, I mean. You look great.”

She shook her head as though to clear it and Lucien’s heart pounded in his throat. He broke his only rule when it came to her as he lowered his shirt.

“How is Graysen?”

Her expression tightened. He shouldn’t have asked.

“Fine.”

Fuck. He went back to his menu, feeling like an asshole. He was going to get a mountain of hashbrowns, he decided. Slather it up in syrup and pancakes and maybe bacon—

“He’s sleeping with someone else,” she told Lucien, interrupting his thoughts about food. Lucien looked up, mouth open to respond.

The waitress, dress in a faux sixties poodle skirt, took that moment to come up and take a drink order. Elain went ahead and ordered an omelet, and Lucien was forced to order half the menu without breaking eye contact. He wanted a plate of bacon and didn’t think she’d understood him when he said it. He was imagining it to be a tower, but suspected he’d get four pathetic slices which would have to hold him over for another two months.

Elain tucked a loose curl behind her ear when the waitress retreated. Lucien tried again, only to be interrupted yet again by milkshakes and orange juice. Truly a heinous combination but he didn’t care. He wanted it all tonight.

Finally, they were given a moment of space. Elain wrapped her pink lips around her milkshake straw, one brow arched as he chugged deliciously cold, utterly sugary juice. He’d been dreaming about it.

“Why do you think that?” he panted, setting his glass back to the table a little too firmly.

Elain twisted the ring around her finger, face hardening. “Because I saw the video they made.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Lucien voiced his thoughts, unsure what else he could say to that. “What did he say when you told him?”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Elain replied primly, dragging another thick suck through her straw. “I haven’t figured out how to do it.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he said. And he was. He didn’t want to see her hurt like this. Elain shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’m not. This is the third time. I have to be stupid at this point, thinking he’d changed.”

Third…?

“The other break ups…?

“I never had so much proof,” she told him, placing her hands flat down on the table. “And I guess I was afraid of throwing away so many years. It felt like wasted time. I’m tired though, Lucien.

You have all this time for me and I know you’re so busy but he never does. And I think about that all the time.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. “Of course I have time for you. You’re my best friend.”

Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just want someone who can make time for me. I don’t think its asking for a lot.”

A heavy pause settled between them as Lucien struggled to figure out what he could say that wasn’t too heavy handed.

“You’ll find it,” he finally told her lamely, just in time for twelve plates of food to be set in front of him. “You’re great, Elain.”

She watched him, eyes wide.

And it wasn’t until he went to bed that night, all by himself after dropping her off at her sorority, that Lucien wondered if she hadn’t been waiting on him to say something else.

ELAIN:

“Well?” Arina asked the next morning, bursting into their shared bedroom in the sorority house with expectant eyes.

“He’s so stupid!” Elain cried, tossing her curling iron to the vanity. She turned in her chair to look at Arina, her stomach still twisted up in knots. “It was practically a date! I asked to see his abs and he told me I was great. He said I was his best friend.”

“Oh, wow,” Arina breathed. “I was so sure he liked you.”

“Me too,” Elain bemoaned. “I was practically throwing myself at him. I couldn’t have been more obvious. I told him I wanted someone to treat me like he did.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to break up with Gray,” Arina said reasonably, flopping onto the twin at the far end of the room. Elain sighed. Fucking Graysen. What a waste of time he was. It didn’t help that Elain had woken up last summer after a particularly sexy dream about Lucien and realized she had a stupid crush on him.

Now she was dragging things out unbearably. “I’ll end it today,” Elain decided. As if that would fix her problem.

“Maybe you need to get Lucien some incentive,” Arina suggested, eyebrows raised. “Invite him to the party tonight.”

Elain sighed. “How many slutty outfits can I possibly wear? I need a different tactic.”

“So true. Climb into his lap and start kissing him. He’ll figure it out then.”

“Maybe if he comes to see me at work,” Elain mumbled. She worked down at the old movie theater, affectionately called the Omni. It showed classic black and white films and was kept alive only because it was a heritage landmark and not because anyone came with any regularity. Halloween was one of their more popular nights. They’d swap out the pretentious art nouveau for Rocky Horror and pack the place to the gills.

Elain looked down at her phone. Ignoring the messages from Graysen, she opened her chat with Lucien and sent Coming to visit today?

His response was immediate.

Can’t. Have to atone for last night's pancakes. Worth it.

Elain sighed. In the gym again? I’ll bet you look great.

And Lucien, stupid as always, replied. I look disgusting.

Elain glanced at herself in the mirror, dressed in tight shorts and just a bra. She couldn’t figure out if Lucien only considered her a friend or if he was exceedingly polite. There was, of course, only one way to really figure it out. She went to her closet while Arina fired up her laptop, no longer interested in Elain’s personal drama. Elain flung her hangers to the side until she found the green sweater dress she planned to wear for the day.

Elain peeled out of her clothes, staring at the white lacy bra on her body for a minute. Lucien was always working out and Elain was constantly telling him she ought to join him. An idea was forming in her mind. She stripped out of her bra and panties, replacing them with an obscene black pair she’d once bought thinking Graysen might like and then turned her camera on. She took a full body shot, admiring the way her ass popped from the angle she was posed. Even her breasts—fairly small, by all standards—looked really good pressed against the lace.

Elain didn’t let herself think about her actions.

What about me? Should I come join you?

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it and then tossed her phone to the bed so she wouldn’t have to see his response. She got her dress and her leggings on before she heard his buzzing response.

Not dressed like that. You look amazing. I’ll see you at work today.

She bit back the urge to scream, a smile spreading over her face. That had to be a good sign, right? If he was willing to end things early and visit when he’d said he wouldn’t, all over one really good picture? Elain practically floated across Greek Row to Graysen’s fraternity and when Graysen met her on the lawn, she said nothing at all.

She merely held up the video on her phone and hit play.

“Elain,” he began as she shook her head.

“Dumb as fuck, Gray,” she replied. “This is over.” She pulled the promise ring off her finger and tossed it to the grass.

Good riddance.

“Elain!” he called, practically tripping after her. He was barefooted on the sidewalk, wearing only a pair of loose black basketball pants. She was sure he’d thought she’d come over to crawl in his bed. Why dress up for that? Why put any effort into this relationship at all?

She hated him.

Elain waved Graysen off without another word, turning her back and stalking down the drive. Let him argue with a fucking wall. She wasn’t interested in how he tripped and fell into another woman’s pussy and somehow accidentally positioned his phone exactly right to get that video, too.

Even if she had cared to hear him out, Elain knew it didn’t matter. She’d wanted Lucien for the last five months and trying to work things out with Graysen merely got in her way. Elain all but skipped to work, to the kitschy downtown area of her college town that was so obviously a tourist trap. She passed t-shirt shops and placing claiming to make old fashioned fudge, along with haunted museums and one really good western themed restaurant before she reached the Omni.

Peeling white paint and a faded green sign told of better days. Elain pulled out her massive golden key, an absurd relic, and unlocked the Omni. A few tourists might filter into the musty lobby, but no one bought a ticket. Not when they cost $15 each to see a movie no one was interested in.

Elain flipped on the lights and turned on the popcorn machine, though she didn’t start any. She’d have to clean it if she did. Instead, she vacuumed the maroon and blue carpet and sprayed febreeze over everything, trying so hard to get the smell of smoke out of the walls. People had been allowed to smoke in the theater up until the eighties and she swore it lingered like a ghost.

After that, Elain picked a black and white film—a french feature with subtitles—and made her way into the singular theater. The only, fold down chairs had been replaced with squashy chairs and leather loveseats. Someone had donated them, hoping it would bring more people in. All it did was convince teenagers to waste $30 to finger each other, a fact that endlessly annoyed Elain.

She dragged a ivory knit blanket into the dark theater, draped it over her body, and stared at her phone until she was half asleep. She might have fallen all the way asleep had a body not jumped the back of the two person love-seat she was reclined on, sitting their heavy body on her legs.

She yelped and Lucien apologized, scrambling up as she pulled her legs back. Lucien grabbed them, draping them over his lap before pulling her blanket over him, too.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said, eyes watching the screen with confusion. He looked incredible—his auburn hair was loose around his chiseled face, his body clad in a baby blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, the corded muscle flexing when he moved and the sweater clung to his muscular torso. Lucien looked over, russet eyes reflecting in the screen light. She wanted to trace the trio of long scars screaming down his eye with her tongue, though she’d never admit that. Full lips quirked upwards into a smile.

“Lucien, it’s eleven thirty,” she replied. “I’m here until eight.”

He shrugged, unaware his casual indifference only made her think he wanted her, too. He ran his hand over her shin, clad in leggings and hidden under the blanket.

“Do you really want to work out with me?” he asked her, dashing all her hopes in a moment. Elain’s lips parted. Surely Lucien couldn’t be that stupid? He spent hours in the gym and Elain was breathless after a thirty minute jog. He looked so hopeful that Elain was forced to respond.

“Yeah,” she lied. “You look great—”

“You do too,” he said, shifting in his seat just a little. Elain swallowed hard. What had Arina said? To just climb in his lap and kiss him? Elain wanted Lucien to make the first move so badly, was terrified he would reject her if she did that.

And then what? They wouldn’t even be friends. Lucien had been her best friend for almost six years. What would she do if she couldn’t text him every little thing that crossed her mind? It was what kept her in her seat even though every other part of her ached to get closer.

They watched the movie in relative silence and when it finished, Lucien let Elain get up to change it. They had a favorite, if only because of how long it was. Four hours. It was a western movie about a train—at least, she thought, anyway. Her and Lucien usually ended up in an animated conversation thirty minutes in. It passed the time, all the same, and she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. She knew he had an afternoon class at one which would send him away and leave her alone and annoyed she couldn’t just make a move.

Lucien winced when she plopped on the couch.

“Sore?” she asked. He always was after a game.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I soaked in ice this morning and I had ibuprofen for breakfast. It’s helping a little.”

“Want me to rub?” she offered. That was hardly unusual and yet the way his eyes widened made her feel like she’d crossed some sort of line.

“You don’t ah…” he trailed off as she scooted closer. “What are you doing, Elain?”

She was running her hands up his chest. “Rubbing?” she asked, too afraid to look at his face. “Your shoulders, unless you’d rather me do your legs?”

She knew if she knelt before him, she’d unbutton his pants whether he asked her to or not. Swallowing hard, she wondered if maybe that wasn’t just what they needed to do? What could be more obvious than blowing him in the middle of an empty theater. Surely he’d understand then that she wanted more than friendship?

She ran her hands down his body again, moving to slip towards the floor but Lucien caught her quickly. Fingers curled around her biceps, Lucien looked wild and nervous. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, nostrils flared. “I’m alright, I’m fine. Actually, I should probably uh…I need to get to class. I have a project…it’s…half finished, I think? I’ll see you later?”

Was he leaving her again? Elain’s mouth hung open. “A project?” she asked, well aware she sounded indignant. She’d been about to suck him and he was leaving? Her stomach churned. Maybe it wasn’t Luycien who was stupid, but her. He was trying to be her friend and she was trying to touch him inappropriately

“Yeah,” he breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly, “I just remembered. I uh…later? We’ll see each other later?”

Did it even matter? She scooted away from him, swallowing her disappointment.

“Yeah. There’s the party at the house tonight, if you want to still come?” she hoped he didn’t. It would be endless girls throwing themselves at his feet, all with a better shot at him than her.

Lucien nodded, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be there.”

And then he was gone, jumping over the back of the couch and practically running out of the theater. Elain checked her phone.

Twelve.

He hadn’t even been there an hour.

Maybe she ought to give up.

LUCIEN:

Lucien was losing his mind. The sight of Elain about to drop to her knees between his parted thighs was too much. His cock filled with blood, pushing against his pants thinking she was going to unzip him and take him in her mouth. He didn’t want her to realize he had an erection, so Lucien fled even after he saw the bewildered hurt on her face. Elain was trying to be nice, to be his friend. He felt like a bastard.

He jerked himself off in the bathroom of his apartment before miserably plodding to class. He sent her a meme, hoping it was a sufficient apology without making things awkward or weird between them and Elain sent one back. All was forgiven. He doubted she understood why he had to go. It was the second time that day he'd had to take himself in his hand. The first was after she'd sent the half naked photo, asking if he thought she should work out. He'd nearly dropped a weight on his foot, had practically run out of the gym to pump himself in his hand before he did something reckless.

As long as he wasn’t fucking up their friendship. Fuck, she was technically still dating Graysen. She’d need time and space to grieve before he could even think about letting her get her hands and face that close to his cock. Lucien was jumpy and overly worked up and by the time he got to her sorority house for the party, it was like he hadn’t masterbated at all. He was eight seconds from turning around and leaving when the door swung open and Arina ushered him in.

“There you are,” she said with a smile, all but shoving him into the foyer. “I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“Elain is single—”

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod—Lucien tried to turn around and walk right back out the door but Arina was gripping his arm and walking him through the beautifully decorated living room which was packed with people. She was still talking but Lucien wasn’t listening. Not when he’d caught sight of Elain, dressed in a tight pink dress, her back up against the wall while some fratboy hovered over her with hungry eyes.

“If you could just keep her occupied—” Oh God was Arina still talking? He looked down at hte blonde.

“What?”

Arina rolled her eyes. “Babysit Elain, please? She’s like blood in the water for these fucking sharks. Why don’t you take her upstairs?” Arina added, wrinkling her nose when the guy said something indistinguishable over the loud music and Elain threw her head back and laughed. Surely he wasn’t that funny. Lucien all but stomped across the room, weaving in and out of people until he reached her. The guy looked over, clearly irked but Lucien wasn’t some fratboy loser. He was a fucking athlete, and a good one at that.

Elain turned her head, eyes assessing him cooly. “Oh. Hey.”

Fuck. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been going for.

“Come have a drink with me,” he said, ignoring the other guy entirely. She looked back to the guy, offering an apology and a promise to be right back. Both Lucien and the loser knew he’d never see her again. Elain pushed off the wall with her back letting him grab her hand.

“Broke up with Graysen, huh?” he asked, walking her towards the massive, polished steps that would take her up to the bedroom she shared with Arina. It was true, though. The ugly little ring that had once been on her finger was now gone.

“And?”

He looked down at her, surprised by how angry she sounded. Squeezing her hand, Lucien took the first step upwards. She was suffering and all he could think about were her tits spilling over the top of her dress and how it just barely covered her cute little ass.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he murmured as she followed up behind him, heels clicking loudly.

“I’m not,” she insisted, her tone still bratty and sullen. Lucien scowled, pushing open the door that had her name written on it in glittery purple script.

“Then why are you taking it out on me?” he demanded, snapping the door shut behind her. “If you’re so fine? I’m trying to be your friend–”

She crossed her arms over her chest, dragging the hem of the strapless dress down far enough that he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath. His already sore legs shook, nearly giving out. “Maybe I don’t want you to be my friend.”

The air punched out of his lungs. “What?” Anxiety rose in his stomach at her words. She didn’t want to be friends? What did he have, if not her friendship? Lucien blinked, swallowing the urge to beg her to know why.

She didn’t budge. “I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.”

Her eyes blazed as she said it. Lucien couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand to see her anger, to hear her declare she no longer wanted to be his friend. He turned, flinging open the door before she uttered another word, and all but ran out of that house.

“Lucien—” she called from behind him, but he didn’t need to hear it. Not when his heart was cracking, when he thought he might throw up on the floor if she uttered another word. Thundering down the stairs, he nearly bowled into Arina.

“Lucien?” she asked, looking up to where Elain was following, much slower in her heels.

“Lucien!” Elain called but he’d reached the front door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him. Only then did he let himself suck down a cool breath of autumn air. He didn’t want to be caught on her lawn, didn’t want to have this confrontation out in the open for the whole school to see. Lucien ached, and not from soccer. In his wildest dreams, he’d never once considered that Elain might break up with him, too.

Was it because he’d left her in the theater? He’d hurt her feelings and she was tired of it? He almost wanted to ask, almost turned around and demanded she explain herself. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Lucien did the only thing that would silence his thoughts.

He took off running.

His body responded instantly, switching from the pain that was flooding his brain to something duller and single-minded. It didn’t wholly remove the hurt in his chest but for the two miles he raced, it kept him thinking about anything but his pumping legs and keeping his lungs filled with air.

I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.

Tears stung against his eyes, banished by sheer will alone. He shoved himself into his apartment, pacing like a caged animal. She didn’t want to be his friend. Didn’t want to be his friend. Lucien pulled off his shirt, throwing it across the room before walking to his bedroom.

“Fuck this,” he shouted, dragging off his jeans, too. He was going to the gym. He’d spend the night there, burn off his feelings, and figure out what to do in the morning.

Lucien had just gotten his shorts over his body, shoes back in hand when a loud pounding on the door dragged him out. He knew who would be waiting on the other end without having to ask. Keyed up and hurt, he flung that door open, not caring he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I don’t take house calls so late from people who aren’t my friend,” he snapped at Elain. Her eyes were glassy, her face streaked with mascara.

“Oh fuck you, Lucien,” she snapped, shoving him in the chest as she walked into his apartment. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I’m stupid?” he demanded as she slammed his door shut. “Me?”

“Yeah!” she said, squaring off with him. It was almost laughable given Elain was five feet tall without her heels, over a foot shorter than him and still, with her hateful gaze, he felt like dirt beneath her feet. “You’re fucking stupid!”

“Great. Glad you came all this way to tell me that. Anything else you need to get off your chest?” he asked, swallowing his hurt back into his gut. She was here and for whatever reason, her mere presence was half soothing. He was vibrating with anxiety, wanting to get on his knees and beg her not to leave him. To tell him what he’d done wrong.

He didn’t want to open himself up to any more pain. Lucien turned his back to her, striding into the living room so he could put on his socks and shoes.

“Do you really not know?” she asked from behind him, stopping him in his tracks. Her anger had slid into fear, her voice wavering. When he turned, he found Elain standing in the hall, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Know what, Elain?” he asked her desperately. Dropping his shoes, Lucien closed the distance between them and pulled her against his body, wishing so badly he’d put on a shirt. She immediately hugged him, hands rubbing up and down his spine. “Tell me what I’m missing. Let me fix this.”

“You can’t,” she said, her breath hot against his skin. “This is my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he was quick to reply, letting himself tangle his hand in her long, carefully curled hair. “Please, Elain, you know I love you. I’d do anything for you. Tell me why you’re upset.”

She was quiet for a long minute, eyes closed while he stroked her hair. His anxiety was ebbing, his heart steadying. He could fix this. She’d tell him, and Lucien would apologize and they’d sit on the couch and watch a move.

“Is it Graysen?” Lucien dared to ask.

She laughed, breath fanning against him. His heart picked up again, anxious for an entirely different reason when she pressed a soft kiss just beneath his pec.

“It’s you,” she said, so quiet he barely heard her.

“Elain,” Lucien said slowly, piecing together what she’d said earlier.

I don’t want to be your friend.

“You do know I love you, right?” he asked her softly, waiting for her to look up at him. She shook her head back and forth and fuck him he was so stupid. Reaching for her face and cupping it in his hand, Lucien added, “I am in love with you.”

Her breath caught. “But today—”

“I will take whatever you give me,” he admitted. “And if that’s just friendship, I want it. You just ended thing—”

“Because I love you,” she whispered, so softly he thought he was hallucinating. “It took me too long to realize and I just figured…”

He might have laughed, had he not suddenly been so ravenous. Lucien didn’t care what she’d figured or when she’d discovered. As long as they were on the same page right then, it didn’t matter.

Lucien tilted her head towards him, kissing her like he’d always wanted to. His whole body, still achey and confused, lit up like a firework at the soft touch. Her hands slid back up his chest like she’d done at the movie theater, tangling around his neck and Lucien was gone. He wanted way more than one polite kiss.

Lucien reached beneath her, hands gripping her ass to haul her upwards so there was no height difference between them. Elain half jumped, legs wrapped around his waist, and deepened the kiss before he ever got the chance. Her tongue swept into his mouth, licking against his own. Lucien groaned, nearly stumbling and taking them both to the ground.

Bedroom, get to the bedroom you dumb fuck—

How he ever managed it with his hard cock and his stupid legs, Lucien would never know. One minute he had her in the hall, hands kneading her ass and the next he was dropping her to the bed just long enough to climb up her body and kiss her senseless.

“Lucien,” Elain breathed, arching into his body just like he’d always imagined. This was happening—she was kissing him, was dragging her nails up and down his back. Lucien could not keep his thoughts straight, was practically floating. The only thing grounding him was Elain beneath him, needy and pretty and pliant.

“I hate this dress,” he told her, pulling at the top.

“I put it on for you,” she admitted. “I wanted you to take it off.”

“All you have to do is ask,” he groaned, fumbling for the zipper at her back. Elain arched, the sight so erotic that his whole body stopped working for a moment.

“Focus, Lucien,” she whispered when she realized why he’d stopped trying to get her out of her clothes. He shook his head, trying to rattle his brain around long enough to please his girl.

He shimmied her out of the dress, tossing it to the floor without a second glance. All at once, Elain was naked, save for the same black, lacy underwear she’d been in when she’d sent that picture.

“You ruined my whole fucking life this morning,” he told her, nipping her collarbone with his teeth. “I was trying to lift weights when you sent that little picture.”

“Yeah?” she breathed, moaning when one of his hands cupped her entire breast. “I was trying to turn you on.”

“It worked,” he growled, pinching her nipple softly between his fingers. Just enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure. “I’ve been jerking myself off all fucking day, Elain.”

She whined. “I tried to suck your dick in the theater but you took off—”

“You what?!” he demanded, raising his head from between her tits to look back up at her. “You were doing what?”

“Yeah,” she panted, eyes fluttering back open. “What did you think I was trying to do on my knees?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lucien breathed, pressing his forehead against her chest. “I didn’t want you to see how erect I was.”

“I wanted to see it,” she informed him.

“Next time,” he promised, licking the hardened peak of her pretty nipple. That silenced her and gave Lucien a moment to let himself indulge in a fantasy in which he found out the girl of his dreams was into him by unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

He’d had a million daydreams just like that.

This was way better, he decided. She was in his bed and we was between her legs. All Lucien had to do was make this the best night of her life and he’d be calling her Elain Vanserra before they ever graduated.

“Have you been thinking about me?” he asked, licking down her stomach towards her pussy. Lucien desperately wanted to taste her.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Fantasizing?” he pressed, needing to boost his own fragile ego.

“Yes.”

“Do I get to eat you out in those little daydreams?” he asked, pushing her legs wider, until the lips of her cunt were visible through the thin fabric of her underwear. “Because I think about that all the time.”

Lucien hooked his finger over the thin strip hugging her hips and pulled them off her body. They joined her dress on the floor, useless to him in the moment. He was losing his mind at the sight of her bare pussy, spread open and glistening. Awed, Lucien dragged a finger through the wet, letting him use the slickness of her body to lubricate his touch as he swirled over her clit.

Elain’s hips jerked.

“No one is taking good care of my girl, are they?” he murmured. “Let me fix that, baby.”

“Please,” she whispered, threading her finger through his hair.

In his own daydreams, he’d always imagined taking his time with her. That he’d be soft and sweet and loving. Certainly, as he licked the length of her, Lucien was passionate. The problem was his passion was edged with wild need he just barely had control of. Lucien was practically fucking the sheets as he began devouring her, licking at her like his life depended on it.

In a way it did. He wanted her to be his wife, and women didn’t marry the guy who was bad or lazy when it came to eating pussy. Elain rolled her hips against his face, thighs shaking against his cheeks. He didn’t have to ask if Graysen had done this or done it well–the very fact that she was so close to coming after he’d barely been down longer than five minutes was answer enough. He could build her out, could tease and torture her another night.

Elain came loud enough his neighbors almost certainly heard. Good. He wanted them to hear, wanted the whole goddamn world to know that Elain was his. He’d fuck her on the balcony, too, so everyone could watch jealously.

He was back on her the moment he body went limp, yanking off his shorts and trying to kiss her all at once. For someone who boasted being both athletic and coordinated, Lucien was a fumbling disaster trying to free himself. The problem was gorgeous Elain raking her nails down his back and wrapping her legs back around his waist, trying to push him into her before he’d freed himself of his shorts prison.

“Lucien,” she whined. “Lucien—”

“Greedy,” he panted, kicking them onto the floor. “And needy. How bad do you need to be fucked, Elain?”

She looked up at him with lust fogged eyes. “So bad.”

God he was going to die. Lucien dragged the head of his cock through her sopping wet pussy. “Look at my cock,” he ordered, wanting her to see what he was about to put in her. Elain was already staring at the appendage pressed between her legs.

“Do you want an award, Lucien?” she whispered.

“Are you the prize?” he couldn’t help but ask. Elain dug her heels into his ass and pushed, slamming half his cock into her body before he could catch his breath. He groaned loudly, fisting the sheets and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She was so wet, so tight and hot. He was certain he’d died in that moment and this was some form of heaven because nothing had ever felt so good in his life.

He dragged himself out and pushed all of his cock back in, slower this time to keep himself from hurting her. Elain rolled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He could still feel her heart pounding through the walls of her cunt, her orgasm still pulsating against him. She was a slick second skin and Lucien was gone, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, sucking at her neck. “Your fucking pussy…” he didn’t know where he was going with that.

She merely nodded, dragging his face for a kiss. “I’m so close,” she said into his mouth.

He could help her with that. Angling his hips so he could reach between them, Lucien stroked her clit like he’d done with his tongue until she came apart again, teeth biting his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise.

Lucien was just behind, pumping his release into her with an absurdly loud groan of pleasure. His hips were jerky, moving of their own accord until he’d come down, too. Even still, Lucien didn’t withdraw, his skin buzzing with arousal.

“Elain,” he breathed.

“Tell me you love me,” she asked, stroking his face with her fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing each cheek gently.

Elain sighed, holding him closely. “I love you, Lucien. So damn much.”

ELAIN:

Two years later

Elain was learning to love soccer. She had to, given her brand new husband played professionally for the MLS, dragging the two of them all over the country and if she wanted to see him, some nights she had to drag herself down to the stadium and watch him play. Elain had made friends with the other players wives, sitting in a group and admiring their husbands while pretending what they cared about was the ethics of the game. It was with no small amount of pride that Elain thought her husband was the most handsome of the group.

He was easily the most talented. Elain knew that for a fact, given Lucien was about to move out of MLS entirely over to an english Premier League. He hadn’t told her which one yet, well aware she’d immediately tell Arina, who would tell someone, who would tell someone and ruin the whole thing.

Still, Elain was excited for them both. It was a new beginning and something fun. Lucien wanted to get out of American soccer pretty bad and had played the hell out of his season. He’d earned this. He’d leave at the top of his game and she’d just leave.

They were in their home city tonight, which meant when Lucien finished, they’d get to go home together instead of to a nice hotel. Time was ticking towards the end and Elain was antsy, trailing Lucien over the field. He had the ball, was dragging it towards the net for an egregious and undeniable win. Elain jumped out of her chair when he succeeded, so absurdly proud of him she might have exploded.

“That’s my husband!” she told the couple beside her for the fourth time that night. She was certain they were tired of her. Elain didn’t care, not when time was up and Lucien was free. He grinned, ear to ear, as she made her way towards him. It was just like every game since they’d started dating—he surged towards the rails, lifting himself up so he could kiss her.

“You were amazing,” she told him.

High off his win, Lucien looked dumbstruck. “You taste like nachos. Give me thirty and we’ll get out of here?”

She laughed. “Go on, then.”

They met up exactly thirty minutes later. He was half limping, his skin bruised and black and grinning as she met up with him. “I am going to do everything to you tonight,” he warned, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her close. He had his wedding ring on—Lucien only took it off to play, sliding it back on the moment he finished so the whole world knew he was undeniably married. Elain never complained, was always delighted to see the gold band wrapped around his finger.

Lucien had waited a total of nine months before he’d all but begged her to marry him, and had made good on his promise the week after they accepted their diplomas. Elain was his stay at home wife, a pretty good set up in her estimation. She got to travel with him, got to manage their life, and just personally, Elain didn’t want a job. She wanted to be his pretty, cherished wife.

Elain drove them home while Lucien stretched out his legs, wincing as the adrenaline began to wear off. Every game, Lucien swore he was going to make love to her until the sun came up and every game, Lucien sat in frigid water while eating ibuprofen like it was his job. Tonight would be no different. He stepped inside their little two story with a groan, kicking off his shoes. Elain made her way to the bedroom for his knee brace. She helped him get into the tub in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, taking the moment to ogle his truly lovely body. Lucien was bruised and battered and yet his golden brown skin was still so lovely, his form so chiseled, that she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers down his broad shoulders.

“If you want, you can sit on my face tonight,” he offered, stretching out his sore legs.

“Is that what you want, Lucien?” she teased. Eyes closed, a sultry smile spread over his face. “Yes. And maybe afterwards you’ll touch my cock?”

“I could probably do more than touch, if you ask really nicely,” she teased.

“Cruel wife,” Lucien replied, reaching for her hand to kiss the back of her skin. “You swore in your vows that you’d take care of me in sickness and health.”

“I didn’t swear to suck your dick, Lucien.”

“Are you sure? Because I seem to recall you swore that very thing in the bathroom thirty minutes before you walked down that aisle.”

“Oh, shut up,” Elain replied, thinking very fondly of how she’d snuck out of her dressing room, met him in the one stall bathroom at their wedding venue, gotten on her knees, and sucked his cock until it was stained red with her lipstick. They’d had a giggly time at the altar afterwards, pretending it was the first time they were seeing each other in their wedding garb.

“I will never shut up about it,” Lucien replied, turning his head to look at her. “Best day of my goddamn life.”

“The blow job?”

“And fucking you in the back of that limo…and when I put my hand under your dress at—”

“Are all your best memories of us having sex on our wedding day?” she demanded. Lucien shifted in the water, his body on full display. She was so fucking hot it made her whole body tight.

“No. The best day of my life was when you said I do. No take backs, Elain.”

As if she wanted to. The best day of Elain’s life had been when Lucien had told her he loved her and put her out of her misery. Not that he needed to know that. He was so incandescently happy that it was easy to forget how things began between them. All the waiting and pining and misunderstandings merely felt funny.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that I know you’re going to let me eat your pussy. I haven't had a good meal in weeks.”

“You ate it this morning, Lucien.”

He was such a rogue. Grinning, he agreed, “So I did. Silly me.”

He was always going down on her. Sometimes she wondered if he was worried that she might change her mind or think she’d made some terrible mistake. She’d catch him watching her from across the room, eyes intent, his expression awed. Like he couldn’t believe his good luck. Elain felt the exact same way.

“Come on,” she murmured when his lips took on a bluish tinge. She pulled him out and all but dragged him to the bed where Lucien did, indeed, yank her onto his face while she gripped the headboard for dear life. And afterwards, Elain did exactly as she promised, sucking his cock while he writhed and panted and begged. It was always so thrilling to have him in her thrall, to watch him come apart with nothing more than her mouth and tongue and hand.

He was exhausted by the time they finished, hand on his flat stomach as he gulped down air. “You’re too good at that. It’s why I can never leave you,” he said, letting her nestle against him.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you’re sticking around.”

Lucien’s sleepy smile warmed her. “I stick around because I love you. The way you suck dick is merely a very welcome bonus.”

She peppered his shoulder with kisses. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying. You’re so pretty and I can’t stop staring.”

“Do your best,” Elain murmured, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets.

“You’re my best,” he whispered.

“Best what?” she asked.

“Everything,” he replied. “If I’m doing my best, it’s only because I have you. You’re my best.”

Elain smiled.

“You’re my best, too, Lucien.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #you asked i answered #this is how they got together #peak idiots to lovers #also #TYPOS??? you did not see

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willowwere · 2 months

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Whispers of Springtime - Chapter 3

Spring has become a fallen Court. Monsters roam the forests, greedy Lords vie for control of the land, and magic everywhere is dying. Refugees are flooding the other Courts, Night most of all. One day, Elain Archeron is kidnapped from Velaris and wakes in Spring. She is the last prayer of a desperate people- if she can find the missing Tamlin and make him fall in love with her by Calanmai, there is a chance to reverse the decay and save the Court. If she fails, Elain will die along with Spring itself.

This story holds all canon up through ACOWAR, with the alteration of Tamlin being Elain's mate.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 3

Elain

Wandering the grounds of Roancrest Lodge, my mind struggled to reconcile Feyre’s stories with the reality of what I was seeing.

The beautiful estate she had described was long abandoned and decaying, with large swaths reduced to rubble. Haddin said that was done mainly by Hybern’s soldiers as they fled, but also the denizens of Spring in protest of Tamlin, and even the High Lord himself before vanishing. Most of the second floor windows were shattered, and whole chunks of the house were nothing but open air and crumbling stone.

I knew from the stories that there were expansive gardens- especially a grand rose garden planted by Tamlin’s father. At some point, weeds choked the life out of the flowers before they, too, succumbed to the dampness and rot. Nothing could survive in this Springtime. Nothing was budding or blooming, everything was blackened and shriveled.

Something lurked in the distant treeline, watching us. Hadden kept close beside me, occasionally stilling to stare down a shadow out of place. It would vanish with an echoing cackle that made my blood cold and my heart race, but within minutes my stomach would lurch as another shadow detached and began to track us.

“What is a dearg?” I asked him finally, for that was what Dillie had called the creature in the forest.

“A nightmare with a physical body. Probably something leftover from Amarantha’s rule. She bred them as a hobby.”

He was forthcoming with the information. At least, if I asked certain questions he was. Ones that implied curiosity with Spring or the situation in the Court. Anything he deemed frivolous earned me a snarl.

If his words could be trusted, Haddin was a few centuries old, close in age to Lucien Vanserra. He was indeed a Calanmai child, after a disguised Amarantha bribed the daughter of some vassal Lord in order to take her place in the Rite.

Again delighting in how uncomfortable it made me, Haddin explained how the High Lord would be overwhelmed with the magic and directive of the Cauldron. His blood boiling and hormones surging to the point where he would be blind with aching lust. All Amarantha had to do was don the ceremonial mask representing the Mother and make sure she was the one in the cave when he came, possessed, to do the deed.

As for Haddin himself… Tamlin had no idea. Amarantha kept her son’s identity a strategic secret, and dragged him to Prythian during her invasion. She intended to reveal him to Tamlin once the High Lord bent his knee and became her willing slave…

Since Tamlin never knew, naturally Feyre didn’t either, and he never appeared in her stories.

During her reign, Haddin had established himself in a corner of Spring as a minor lord- after the real one was killed by an attor. It didn’t take the denizens of Spring long to realize that his manor was so remote and so inconsequential that Amarantha’s minions seemed to avoid it entirely.

He became a respected member of the community, and watched over the fae who fled to his lands for sanctuary. In Hybern it was all military camps and the brutal lessons his mother taught him about power and domination. In Spring, he wasn’t feared. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t Amarantha’s son.

And then he found his mate, and could only offer prayers to the Mother than the High Lords would find a way to shatter her control and execute her. If she knew who his mate was, she’d likely force Haddin to kill the male himself.

“If Tamlin never knows I’m his, I will be thankful,” Haddin had said to me, the request clear. “He has the same opinion of lesser-fae as Amarantha did. Daenny and I have no interest in being part of his family, nor including him in ours.”

Dillie was apparently Daenny’s younger sister, though she’d spent Amarantha’s reign as a simple gardener. She hadn’t known her brother’s fate during those 49 years, let alone how to begin looking for him after the curse was lifted. But he’d found her in the chaos after Feyre destroyed Tamlin’s hold on Spring, and brought her to Haddin for safekeeping.

My head swam with it all. Something at the heart of me writhed at the thought that this wild male beside me was the child of my mate and another female. It was precisely why I needed to cut the fae out of my blood and bones and go back to being human. The mating bond revolted me whenever I thought about it in Night, but being in Spring…it was louder. I was aware of it in a way I’d never been before.

Was it all this talk of Tamlin? Some kind of territorial anger of Hadreddin’s very existence? The power of Spring? Or, if Tamlin were still somewhere within the boundaries of his Court, could it be that we were closer than we had been in years?

I didn’t want to know. I just wanted a way to make it stop.

Maybe there was a silver lining to all of this. I was in Spring, after all. The distance between this place and the human lands was infinitely smaller than it had been in Velaris. The only time I was closer to home was in the final battle against Hybern.

Not that it mattered.

Even if Haddin allowed me to wander off as I pleased, I’d never survive the journey to where the Wall once stood, or the days-long trek into human territory.

And even if I did, what then? My sisters or the Inner Circle would be on the lookout, and surely they’d reach out to Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa. That Band of Exiles was camped in the ruins of my estate, I’d practically be walking into their nets if I were anywhere near our village. Not to mention that I was still fae. Prythian was much more likely to have a solution to my problem than the human lands were.

I suddenly felt that I’d been wrong- I was no closer to the human lands than I’d been all the way north in Velaris.

“I want to be human again,” I said gently. I don’t know why I said it, but I’d carried the words in my soul for so long that I simply had to let them out.

It was my greatest dream, so why did it sound so hollow?

I expected Haddin to snap at me, or say something condescending in return. He sighed heavily, then caught my elbow to stop me from walking.

“As much as I hated life in Hybern- and you cannot imagine how much I hate that place- coming to Spring was another kind of hell for me. My mother spent my entire life calling me the crown prince of Prythian, and being hauled here- I hated it more than I hated Hybern. But I made a new home here. Found a single thing I loved, then more over time. Now it’s my home, and I would do anything to protect it.”

“I’ve tried,” I whispered. My chest felt too tight, and a tear slipped down my cheek. I had more that I wanted to say, but instead I pulled free of Haddin’s grip and resumed my walk, head low.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think fixing Spring will help you. Whenever Daenny’s angry or upset, I feel it too. The mating bond has a way of twisting your emotions around. I’m not empathizing with that irresponsible asshole, but if the High Lord is feeling the same disconnect as you… You both might be doing this to each other.”

All the more reason to be unhelpful, I thought.

What would it be like if my mate were someone kind and brave? If he were respected like Rhysand, beloved of his people? Would I feel less disgusted by the bond between us? Would I be more resigned to this fate?

My mate was someone who abused my own sister- neglected her and left her to mentally decay until Rhysand saved her. He manipulated her to lure her into Prythian and then didn’t have the decency to protect her as both human and fae. He was weak, he was a coward, and in the end, he was a traitor.

It was Hybern’s men who took me from my home. Even in my own terror, I saw the disgust and horror on Tamlin’s face as I was dragged out in Hybern’s castle. I know he didn’t play any role in what happened to me… but I still hated him for it. Hated him for standing there while it happened, for focusing on Feyre through it all. She wasn’t the one in pain. She wasn’t the one who drowned in that endless abyss.

Nesta and I had our lives wholly destroyed, and he only cared about whether or not Feyre liked him anymore.

I whirled on Haddin, “I can’t-”

“You will,” he cut me off, his words flat and hard. “It’s eight months to Calanmai. Even if you stomp your feet and whine the whole time, you’ll do this.”

“I don’t want to.”

“DO YOU THINK ANY OF THOSE REFUGEES IN NIGHT WANT TO BE IN THAT POSITION?” Dillie had said we had to be quiet and careful of the daerg in the woods, so it terrified me when Haddin shouted at me.

My hands flew up to cover my mouth as my knees buckled. I whimpered, suddenly very small and very afraid. Nesta and Feyre were the ones who stood up to others. Not me. I felt myself swoon, but my arm was caught roughly by Haddin. A sharp squeeze sent a flair of pain up my arm and snapped me to my senses.

“Those fae gave up their homes and everything they ever knew. And they’re the lucky ones. There are plenty who died on the journey, who have died at the claws of beasts and fae alike here in Spring.” Haddin shook me slightly, forcing me to look at him, “You have a way to stop it. Spring never got the chance to recover from Amarantha. It was already on the brink before Tamlin let the whole thing collapse. All you have to do is find one male.”

“I don’t know how,” I whimpered.

Haddin had gone from empathetic to hateful in seconds. Once my feet were steady beneath me, he removed his hand. That hate though, it remained blazing in his dark eyes.

“You don’t get to give up until this Court is dead. Save the tears,” he snapped as one slipped down my cheek. “

I swatted it away hastily, my face burning. I couldn’t raise my head. Shame made me feel sick and small and weak. More tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I don’t remember the last time anyone shouted at me. People never shouted at me. I was nice .

And now this horrible male- he was a kidnapper! And the son of an equally horrible female. What did he know? How dare someone like him make me feel like this?

“I don’t care if you’re a coward,” Haddin’s voice softened somewhat. I could hear the effort it was taking for him to pretend to care about my discomfort. “I don’t care if you want to do this or not. You’re doing it. You are mate to the High Lord of Spring. This is your duty too.”

Unbidden, a murmur escaped from my lips, “No. I have nothing to do with Spring.”

“Turn around, then say that again.” Haddin snapped, stalking off.

I did turn- weary of the daerg watching from the treeline.

A dead, ruined land. Flowers choked to death by weeds, which in turn were overrun by rot. An ever-present fog that cloaked the world in shades of gray.

No birds, no bugs, no sign of life or light or warmth in this cold, broken world.

I looked down at my feet. The slippers were caked in mud and flecks of brown.

But my skin was flecked with green. Small slivers of bright green.

I crouched down and inspected my foot, brushing dead grass aside.

Where my fingers touched, only the barest hint of color appeared. I started, then quickly ripped up a single blade of grass to stare at the subtle change in color.

The green spot grew. Over the next few minutes, the grass dried somewhat, and grew warm and shiny. The green brighter and more verdant.

My eyes lifted, now that I knew what to look for. Something pounded in my chest as I saw more green- not as bright, but undeniable here and there in the brush.

Anywhere my skin had touched, a hint of life crept back into Spring.

#elain #elain archeron #tamlin #amarantha #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #fanfiction #fanfic #canon divergence #au

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