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bloodynereid · 6 months

Note

Hi, Jordan Li fan here again! Could you maybe write an angst/comfort fic where (preferably gender neutral) reader really likes Jordan, but because Jordan and Marie have been getting closer they’re scared to confess? So they try to distance themselves from Jordan and eventually the secret comes out? Bonus points if there’s some sort of panic attack + comfort in there :). Again, completely understand if not, no pressure. Have the best day!!

Whiskey in the Shadows

pairing: jordan li x gender neutral reader

tw: cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of suicide, death, canon typical violence ish, panic attack, kissing

description: jealousy is a rather stupid emotion that unfortunately you have to contend with.

a/n: hope you enjoy this one <33 i literally wrote it out in like less than an hour and i'm actually happy with the result so yayyy. requests are open as always and yeah don't have much else to say.

Life at God U was something you had to adjust to over the years. It was completely different from the time you spent in high school but it definitely felt way better to be surrounded by supes, not just humans who constantly pushed you away because you were ‘different’. A plus was definitely being in the top 10, which meant you had extra privileges the other students didn’t have. One was your friend group.

You first met Luke in the first week of school. You were both taking the same mandatory intro to marketing seminar and were paired up together to make a sales pitch for a product that could combine both of your powers. God, that day was almost as vivid as if you were living it right now.

“Hi.” You jumped slightly and looked up from your notes to see a tall blonde guy standing in front of your spot.

“Uh hi.”

“You want to be my partner?” You scanned the room and saw that everyone had already paired up.

“Sure, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Luke.” He was about to set down his bag when he realized the mess that surrounded you was going to make that difficult.

“Right, shit. Let me get this out of the way.” You quickly took all the multicolored folders from the spot next to you and shoved them into your bag, Luke pulled out the chair and sat down next to you before pulling out a notebook.

“Why the fuck do you have so many folders?” Luke said as he watched you struggle to organize them in alphabetical order.

“This class is bullshit so I mostly spend time catching up on outside projects.” You say as you are finally able to fix all your folders and turn towards Luke who has an incredulous look on his face.

“Jesus, I guess I picked the right partner then.”

“Oh don’t count on me doing all the work.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He said with a smirk before he started to rattle off ideas of what your pitch could be.

From that moment on you two had become instant friends, eventually your little group expanded to include Luke’s girlfriend, Cate, who was probably the nicest person you had ever met. Then Andre, a legacy who didn’t actually act like it. Jordan was the last to join and all of it happened during one of your many sparring sessions with Luke.

“Ok come on you have got to be cheating!” Luke complained as you once again pinned him down on the soft mat. Your little spar was gathering some attention because the boxing ring was now crowded with supes holding up phones.

“Nope. I’m just better than you. Oh shit.” Luke took advantage of your distraction to grab your shoulder and flip you around so you landed hard against the mat.

“I win.”

“Fuck you.” You bit out before you used your powers to wrap and twist shadows around Luke’s wrists so he tumbled down next to you.

“Ok now that’s cheating.”

“We never said no powers.”

“It’s an unspoken rule!” Luke exclaimed but he had a big smile on his face as you offered a hand to him after jumping up from your own spot.

“Truce?”

“Truce.” Luke said as he smirked and grabbed your arm, allowing you to pull him up. The crowd around the ring started dispersing as you climbed out through the ropes.

“That was pretty fucking badass.” Came a voice from one of the few remaining spectators, you expected their voice to be focused on Luke but their intense stare was pinned on you.

“Why thank you. Luke’s an easy one to beat.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed in indignation as he jumped down next to you and threw you one of the spare water bottles he had. You grabbed it with one of your shadows and screwed open the cap.

“I’m Jordan.”

“Nice to meet you Jordan, I’m Y/N and this is Luke as you already know.”

“Hey.” Luke said as he did some kind of military salute.

“So what are your powers?” You asked when suddenly Jordan shifted in front of you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s fucking awesome.” Luke said as he finished taking a long drag of the water bottle.

“If you’re ever up for a spar come find me.” You said as you checked the time on your phone and realized you were going to be late for class. “We have to go but it was great to meet you Jordan.”

“You too.” They said with a smile as you and Luke grabbed your bags from the floor. You waved as you went your separate ways.

“Someone has a crushhhh.” Luke said with a sing-song voice when he realized you were still staring at Jordan’s retreating back.

“Fuck off.” You said as you slapped his shoulder, making a booming laugh explode out of Luke.

Somehow you had managed to keep your crush on Jordan secret when you all reached junior year. Luke was the only one who knew and he constantly teased you about the situation, any time you stumbled over your words or got flustered in front of them. It just seemed harder and harder over the years to actually confess to Jordan. They had gotten so damn confident and like a thousand times more attractive - which is something you didn’t think was possible.

Everything sort of started to fall apart in your life the first days of junior year. It was like the universe decided to throw a wrench in your stableish life. Incident 1: Andre nearly kills a woman in the club you like to frequent. Incident 2: Luke’s nightmares get worse and he keeps having to bunk in your room because for some fucking reason he’s getting suspicious of Cate. Incident 3: Jordan is making heart eyes to someone who is not you. (not that you don’t like Marie but that was the problem, she was too damn perfect) Incident 4: Luke kills himself…

It was like your world was torn apart in the space of half an hour. Your best friend, who you considered a platonic soulmate and brother, killed Brink and then himself right in front of you. The last thing you said to him was that you loved him. Right after he hugged you as tight as humanly possible before flying off to his doom. He was fucking Icarus in that moment.

Incident 5: Luke has a brother, who’s somehow stuck in a fucking underground experimental facility in the school. Incident 6: Brink’s memorial gala…

You carefully adjusted the all-black suit embroidered with shiny black vines that you had gotten in preparation for Luke’s birthday… something that wasn’t even going to happen this year or any year for that matter. Fuck, not the time to cry. You mentally chidded yourself before assessing your look one last time in the mirror before making your way out of your dorm.

You really fucking hoped you wouldn’t run into Jordan tonight. It was getting harder to be around them… every time you saw them, they either started ranting about why Marie was around so much (you almost hoped they actually hated her for a second there but there was a certain spark in Jordan’s eyes whenever they spoke about Marie) or well yeah more complaining about Marie.

You had taken to spending more time alone, you still had a bad feeling about Cate and Andre spent most of his time with Cate so that left alone time as your only option. It had started taking a toll on you though. Mourning wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

You stepped into the decorated hall and cringed at all the posters with Brink. You knew he was a good man but… Luke wasn’t fucking crazy. You had been trying to help him for months, he had a reason to do it and you were going to try to find his brother… as soon as this damn gala was over.

You picked one of the champagnes off of a random waiter’s tray and quirked your lips up. Time to put on a real fucking show.

The next hour was spent mingling and chatting up potential sponsors. They all seemed hesitant to even speak to you because they knew how close you and Luke were but you reassured them that it was nothing to worry about. The Vought PR lines left a sour taste in your mouth that by the end of the hour you were itching for something stronger than champagne.

Once you were sure that the bartender was looking the other way you extended one of your shadows and snatched up one of the good whiskey bottles off the shelf and into your hand. You fucking loved your powers so much sometimes. Happy with your little prize a genuine smile made its way onto your face. Only to fall when you saw Jordan directly talking to Marie. They were smiling softly at each other, making a knot form in your stomach.

You hadn’t cried since Luke. All that had managed to come out of your eyes was a single measly fucking tear right before blood rained down from the heavens. But it seemed like Jordan’s moment with Marie was your fucking breaking point.

A sob threatened to force its way out of your throat as you hurried towards one of the alcoves that you knew this damn place had. What you didn’t notice was the way a pair of brown eyes followed your rushed movements. The second you were cocooned in your shadows was the moment that the tears slowed and a hiccup left your throat.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

“Y/N? Look I know you’re in there. I know your shadows when I see them.” The distinct voice of Jordan Li permeated your little hideout, disturbing the peace that you had somehow been able to culminate.

“Fuck off.” You said in a strained tone, tears were threatening to force their way out of your eyes once more so you opened the bottle and took a long swig of burning whisky.

“Y/N… is this about Luke? Shit- I haven’t even talked to you- I’m so sorry.” Those last few words made the stupid little resolve you had left deplete so you waved your hand and the shadows parted like curtains exposing Jordan’s ethereal face which looked incredibly apologetic. She climbed into your alcove as you closed the shadows back up.

“It’s fine, Jord. You had your own shit to deal with.”

“No, it’s not fine. You- you’ve been listening to me rant about Marie and I didn’t even ask if you were okay. I’m a shitty friend.” A resounding pang echoed through your heart at the word friend. Fuck. Another swig of the fancy whiskey.

“It’s not about that Jord, I’m really fine.”

“You’re drinking whiskey… you only do that when you’re stressed and/or depressed.” It almost hurts to realize how much Jordan actually knows you.

“It’s not that Jordan.”

“Then what is it?!” Jordan almost yells, probably exasperated by your perceived stubbornness.

“I fucking like you okay? I’ve been in love with you for fucking I don’t know how long. So can you please just fuck off and leave me alone.” You yelled out, only realizing after you finished speaking what you had just said. Oh. Oh no. A familiar panic started to seize your chest. Shit, they were going to reject you. Shit. Shit. Shit. You could almost feel yourself drifting off to join your shadows when warm hands gently got a hold of you.

“Y/N, Y/N. Listen to me, you have to breathe. You have to breathe with me. Come on. No passing out on me tonight. You didn’t even hear what I was going to say. Hey.” Your breathing started to slow down as you listened to Jordan’s calming voice. They were slowly bringing you back to earth as their hands rubbed against the material of the suit, creating a calming pressure.

“Sorry about that.” When Jordan realized I was calming down I saw a quirk of a smile appear on their face, her eyes twinkled in the dark with an intensity I had gotten familiar with over the years.

“You don’t have to be sorry at all. You get those often?”

“More now than before. I’m really fucking sorry, let’s just forget I sa-”

“No, nope. No take backsies. How the fuck did you think I didn’t like you, no wait sorry, love you back?”

“I-umm” You stuttered out as you looked at Jordan in awe. They loved you back. Holy fucking shit.

“Who came up to who first? I’ve wanted to ask you out on a date for years.”

“And why didn’t you?” You said as Jordan smirked at your renewed confidence.

“Because you are wayyy out of my league. I mean you are like the most incredible being to grace the Earth.”

“Ok now you’re exaggerating things, Jord.”

“No I’m not. I can’t believe you didn’t realize I wasn’t totally gone for you before.” You let the giddy feeling of love spread through your extremities when a realization made you stop short.

“What about Marie?”

“Marie? What are you talking about?”

“You’re like-” You made wavy motions with your hands that had Jordan’s laugh resonating against the shadows, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you watched them.

“Oh fuck, you are too funny, love. No, me and Marie are not-” Jordan repeated the wavy motions you had just done which made you smack her playfully. The movement had you shuffling closer to Jordan so now your faces seemed like they were only millimeters apart.

“Fuck.” You uttered under your breath as your nose skimmed against Jordan’s.

“Fuck is right. Can I- I umm really want to kiss you right now.”

“What are you waiting for?” You answered just as Jordan surged forward and your lips met in an explosion of sensations. You felt your shadows jump and play around you excitedly as you pulled Jordan impossibly closer by threading your fingers in their oh so soft hair. That decision rewarded you with a little whine from Jordan that had warmth spreading over your body once again.

Reluctantly pulling away you rested your forehead against Jordan’s as they smiled giddily up at you. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness and you smoothed the pads of your fingers against their cheek.

“Hi.”

“I really fucking love you.” You said as you looked into those brown eyes that looked just like the perfect cup of coffee. Inviting, warm and absolutely enthralling.

“I love you more.”

“Always a competition with you Jordan.” You said with a chuckle, making Jordan laugh in response.

“Well you should have known what you were signing on for when you fell in love with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

so... reader's powers in this one are known as darkness manipulation which are sort of like the darkling's powers from shadow & bone (they're suit for the gala is literally directly inspired by the darkling's kefta lol) also here's the link to the superpower wiki page if anyone's interested.

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helion-ism · 3 months

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so, after two years I have finally written something again. it's actually one of my new year's resolutions to start writing again, just a little at least, to get into it again. I will probably also edit some of the things I wrote in the past and re-post them again because I had a phase where I deleted almost all of them (just girly things 🤪)

anyways, this is what I came up with. hope you enjoy!

thanks, @lucienarcheron for reading and offering advice 🫶

rating: mature

word count: 3,207

or: read it on ao3

archer and prey

She could feel his wicked grin on her skin as she whimpered in response, leaning back against his hard body, leaning back against his hard body, his kisses lazy – without haste. Her head fell on his shoulder as his clever hands moved to her waist. He held her firmly and with care. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

All she felt and needed to feel was this pure heat he was offering her, this fire he was responsible for that was burning low in her body and threatening to consume her. And Elain could not stop herself from shivering, repeating with a hushed voice, “Please, please.” He chuckled at her impatience.

But he rewarded her the next moment when his tongue was on her neck, drawing circles. And his lips – his perfect lips – moved against her sensitive skin, though never increasing the pace. She liked this torture more than she would ever admit. Liked how he seemed to relish in taking his time with her, too.

His hands were on her thighs, his fingers burrowed in her skirts, hoisting them up little by little. He wasn’t close enough to where she wanted him, and Elain propped herself against him with a force that surprised and delighted him. He laughed and her stomach clenched at the sound.

More, more, more.

She might have said the words aloud.

Lucien’s hand moved to her neck. It might be his favourite part of hers, she thought, with the way he always kept returning to it. He caressed her collarbone, lay his fingers around her neck, and squeezed lightly. Elain gasped as she felt his hard length at her back, his fingertips gently turning her head to face him. She looked at him and the rugged scar that graced his face.

Wicked, wanton, wild.

“Please,” she whispered again and lifted her head to meet his lips. She wanted to make him lose his composure, make him forget his purpose for a second. She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, pressing against him, her hands up in his long hair, tugging and pulling. He groaned and Elain felt the sound in her core – but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him everywhere forever.

Lucien’s hand went to the back of her head, tilting it to have better access to her, his tongue now occupied with her own. He was in charge and taking over, deliberately slowing his movements yet again. She snarled, and he laughed again, this time louder. Her head was spinning.

Lucien’s other hand moved to her hips, turning and hoisting her up onto him. Elain’s head fell back at the pressure of him against her core and started to move slowly, leisurely against him. She felt so good, breathing his name in painful need. He was wearing too many clothes – she needed them off.

“You’re mine,” he purred, his lips on her collarbone, sucking until she felt a pain so good, so sharp –

Elain gasped as she bolted up from her bed. Breathing hard and fast, she placed a hand on her chest, willing herself to calm down. She let it happen again. This dream, this fantasy she could never shake off, no matter how much she told herself she hated him in the daylight. It was only in dreams she said his name these days, allowing it to roll off her tongue only then when no one else could hear.

She felt like a traitor. To Feyre, to Nesta, to herself.

To him.

She tried so hard to not think of him, even when he was in town. Even more so when he was out somewhere on the Continent with that human queen. Did not allow her thoughts to ever wander and wonder. Yet, at night, when the stars sparkled in the sky and the winds moved the sheer fabric of her curtains into her bedroom, her traitorous thoughts returned to him.

She knew it wasn’t fair to anyone. Not to either of them but especially herself. She had promised herself a thousand times to not let it bother her, this feeling that seemed to grow day by day. She thought perhaps that was why this body, this altered mind, now urged her to go to him, to touch him, even if only in her dreams. But she understood that loneliness was a burden she could not get rid of at night even if she could pretend it disappeared under the bright sun of Velaris. She blamed him for it.

Elain shivered as she pushed aside the covers of her bed and walked to the open window. Her feet were cold on the wooden floor, but she didn’t mind. It cleared her head. Velaris looked beautiful at night and she wished it could give her the strength Feyre drew from it. She wished it could be enough that she wanted to fit in. Wished she could feel like Nesta did after suffering for so long. But wishes were not enough and with each day passing, the feeling of isolation and desperation grew inside her and made her restless. Made her feel more alone.

Elain sighed and leaned her head against the opened window frame. She closed her eyes.

It could be so quiet here, at night. And only because the city was asleep and she couldn't be caught did Elain let herself think about her dream once more. She had stopped counting how often she awoke in the darkness, wishing to be close to him. Most of the time, the dreams were like this: slow and passionate, feeling too real. Like he was right here, behind her, worshipping her. She could almost smell him, taste him on her lips. She opened her eyes to stop the pain threatening to squeeze her heart until only tears could help her get rid of it.

Sometimes Elain woke because he touched her pointed ears and that was not something she could even accustom herself to in her dreams. Sometimes it was because she peaked, twisting in her sheets and waking up satisfied and yet yearning for more. She wondered how that was possible when she could not remember how his touch felt on her skin. Other times, it did not get that far. It was words that drew her from her subconscious.

Lucien wasn’t in Velaris. But she knew he was on his way back to the Night Court, to report on whatever it was exactly that he was doing out there for Feyre and Rhysand. She prohibited herself from caring every time someone uttered his name in her presence and hated her body for not complying. Elain wondered if on the mornings that followed nights like these, when she couldn’t go back to sleep and waited for the sunrise – she wondered if Feyre noticed. If that was why her sister studied Elain with a wariness that followed her through the rest of the day. But her sister never said a word.

Feyre likely suspected Elain would shut down the conversation, never admitting to anything. And how could her sister, with her perfect baby, and perfect mate, who she had accept with love in her heart, ever understand? How could anyone? Nesta once could, but Nesta loved Cassian. Nesta had friends and a purpose. She had a home.

Elain had that once, too. With Graysen. She almost did, anyway.

She sighed, sliding to the floor and letting her chin rest on her knees. It would be a long night as she longed for the day.

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

He was here, she realized.

In the townhouse.

It was barely dawn.

His heart beat loudly in his chest and his scent – like a summer morning brightening the day – filled up the air. Elain couldn’t breathe as all of her senses focused on him – an instinct she wasn’t sure how to work against. She hadn’t actively decided to leave her room, yet here she was. He noticed her a few seconds later, looking up the staircase with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth.

He was so beautiful, she thought. It was unfair.

“My lady,” he said.

Those were his first words after months of utter silence. She wondered if his being here meant he had freed the firebird and was back in Prythian for good. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

Elain furrowed her brow. “I live here now,” she replied and hated how quiet and unsure she sounded.

“I assumed you would be with Feyre and Rhys –”

“I thought it would be best to give them privacy. As a young family.”

Her heartbeat matched his. Could he still not hear it?

He was silent. She thought it was the most they had spoken in ages. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom as she gripped the ornate railing. As she squeezed it like she might bend it underneath her frail hands.

“You look well,” he said then, a hint of a polite smile on his lips. She swallowed and Elain did not think it could be more awkward. “I’m sorry for disturbing you in your home. I figured I would recommend the townhouse to meet with Feyre not to … barge in on you, and she didn’t mention anything about you being here. I am here for business.”

“Business,” she said slowly, frowning. Of course, Feyre hadn’t said anything to him.

But before she could say anything else, the door opened and Feyre rushed in. Elain stiffened while Lucien seemed to relax.

She suspected he hated being here. She didn’t let herself think of what else he might have hated.

Feyre lit up as she hugged him. “Lucien, I didn’t realize you were here this early!” She glanced up at Elain and cringed slightly. Elain said nothing. Feyre likely had planned on warning her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied softly.

And Elain didn’t hear what Feyre said next as everything grew louder in her head. Like water rushing right above her and into those sensitive ears. The duo moved to the parlour and Elain found herself following them slowly.

The door wasn’t closed, so she supposed she was welcome, especially when Lucien didn’t tear his eyes away from her as she entered the room and found herself by the window. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds.

The weather seemed to match the mood of her mate.

He seemed to have anticipated the arrival of Rhys and his brother and still, his mood worsened. He may have moved slightly closer to her.

“Am I interrupting?” Eris said, grinning widely at Elain, who, in turn, frowned at him. She didn’t know what to think of the redhead. Something about him unsettled her. He looked so different from Lucien. His nose was sharper, his skin paler, and his eyes seemed to take in everyone in the room at the same time – as if he was used to paying attention to every single person in his vicinity. Like he didn’t trust anyone here. Elain could hardly fault him for that.

“Be quick about it, Eris,” Lucien hissed and Elain watched Rhys step behind Feyre, kissing her on her cheek. Her stomach tightened painfully.

“Oh, brother, how have I missed you, too,” Eris snickered. He took a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Does your firebird miss you already?”

Elain froze at his question, well aware that everyone’s eyes were on her. The room was shrinking and every little noise, the fly on the windowsill, the birds chirping outside, Eris’s breathing, was getting louder and louder and louder. She wanted to cry and she didn’t know why.

She still remembered how difficult moments like this had been in those first few months. After she had surfaced, scared and shaking, and Lucien had made his way to her. When she had arrived at the Night Court, Feyre gone, Nesta blazing, and everything had been too much, too loud, pungent. It had been Lucien, surprisingly, who understood and offered the advice she desperately needed. She had clung to the windows of the house, praying for peace and quiet, praying for her old life to come back to her.

“Close your eyes when it gets too overwhelming in this new body,” he had said. She had blinked in response and looked at him. His brutally beautiful face had looked like he understood. She hadn’t seen how. “Make sure to breathe in deeply, and I mean, deeply. Down to your navel. Then hold it, and breathe out slowly. Close your eyes and block out the noise by focusing on one thing. Be it a bird chirping or footsteps outside.”

She hadn’t replied, and Lucien had stood, bowing, to leave again. This, Elain, had to admit, had helped more than the healer’s poking and touching. She didn’t have to tell him that it was the sound of his heartbeat, or the memory thereof, that she often used to calm herself down. Even now, with so much time having passed. She didn’t know why these Fae senses were taking so long for her to get used to.

Now, her ears focused on the steady, yet agitated beat of his heart. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

The noises disappeared as she continued to breathe deeply. She looked at Eris, surprised to see his eyes observing her, not his brother.

“The firebird,” Lucien spat, “is still a firebird and unless you have helpful information for breaking her curse, I suggest you tell us what you came here for, brother.”

Rhys chuckled and sat with Feyre on the couch, obviously trying to calm the flared tempers. He looked suspiciously at ease, but maybe that belonged to the artful skillset of a High Lord.

Her sister rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to discuss Vassa, Eris.”

Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw and Elain couldn’t help but look back at Lucien, but he was staring at Eris.

“I am here to discuss my father’s death.”

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Then –

“You mean you are here to discuss treason,” Feyre said quietly as Lucien remained silent.

But Elain could hear him clear and loud. He did not want to be in this room. She saw flashes of blood on a dark floor, she saw a red forest and a head on the ground. A thin, red-haired woman crying in a beautifully decorated parlor.

“Treason,” Eris grunted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“We told you, we cannot get involved,” Rhys said slowly. But he leaned forward like he had had the thought, too. Lucien noticed and clenched his fists.

Elain’s heart ached, and she hated herself for following him into this room. Hated herself for getting herself into this mess and to witness him like this – agitated and internally pacing. Did he want to return to his home? Did he miss the sight of those colourful trees?

“Mother would like to see you again,” Eris simply said.

“He will kill me on sight,” Lucien’s voice was quiet and emotionless. Somehow Elain knew what her mate’s brother would say next. Feyre did, too, as she straightened her back and looked at Eris with narrow eyes.

“Not if you bring your mate – both of you protected by the Night Court and her being Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister, he would not dare.”

Silence.

“You have lost your mind,” Feyre said at the same time as Lucien snarled, “Over my dead body.”

Eris wanted her to be a distraction. To be a piece in his chess game as he played his way to the position of a High Lord. Rhys was silent, but Elain’s irritation with Eris grew. He knew, she realized, when to press which buttons. Her brother-in-law understood too, what Elain had learned in this moment.

Feyre was watching her with worried eyes and Elain felt a darkness brush against her mind, but she recoiled from it. She barely could form any coherent thought and did not want to have Feyre invade the chaos inside of her.

“Elain.” Lucien’s voice was gentle and she looked at him, his golden eye whirring frantically. He looked ill while Eris seemed to be enjoying his moment. Elain clenched her fist and faced Eris.

“You cannot decide to use me and expect me to oblige. You cannot drag Lucien into this simply because it is convenient for you. This is your mess.” She was oddly proud of herself for saying those words without shaking. The anger, a burning flame ignited in her heart, made sure of that. Rhys smiled. As did Eris.

“Maybe it is. But surely you and Lucien have a desire to see him gone. After all, you are a princess of the Autumn Court now.”

Lucien’s eyes turned cold, perhaps for the first time in his life. “Elain is a free female. The Autumn Court is nothing to her. As it is to me. We are not going to help you commit treason. I will not risk her life like that.” His words were clipped. Elain didn’t understand why Rhys and Feyre stayed silent.

“What of mother?”

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “What of mother?”

“You know I will do it either way. With or without the Night Court’s help. I understand their … reluctance to assist me. Despite my continued assistance over these last months.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Eris continued, “I will do it and should I fail, what do you think becomes of our mother?” He looked at Lucien and Elain swore she saw a flicker of vulnerability show on his face. Perhaps another form of manipulation. Her heart ached nonetheless.

“He will punish her,” Eris added and looked at Elain. “If they won’t help me save my mother, you certainly could, Elain. I will forever be in your debt.”

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Lucien turned livid and tried very hard to restrain himself and not tackle Eris off the armchair. His brother was holding on to the armrest as if he was aware of that. Elain didn’t hear what Feyre and Rhys were saying, but their anger was palpable.

Elain knew, she knew, that Eris was a mastermind, but she believed him. She believed that he wanted nothing more than to see his mother in safety. Elain didn’t know their father, but given Lucien’s hatred for the Autumn Court, she could only guess what evil he was responsible for. She again saw puddles of blood on the floor. Did blood stain marble?

It irritated her that Eris used her to force Lucien to play by his rules. He clearly did not want to step a foot inside his home again, but everyone in this townhouse knew that if Elain went, Lucien would follow. Perhaps that was why she said, faintly but clearly enough for everyone to hear, “Fine.”

“I will go but not for you,” she said looking at Eris with a frown, then back at Lucien. His face had paled. Elain didn’t really know where it came from, she had certainly not expected the day to go like this. Seeing Lucien, seeing his brother, and saying things she never would have expected herself to even think. “I will go for your mother. No one should be left at risk.”

#elucien #elucien fic #maria writes

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asteriasera · 2 months

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hey baby (i think i wanna marry you)

Pairing: Buck/Eddie Rating: T Wordcount: 13,844

“Marry?” Eddie’s voice pulls Buck's attention back to him. “Is that supposed to be a marriage proposal?”

“Probably,” Buck laughs a little hysterically. Yours, he would say if everything was perfect and the banner wasn’t on fire, but he sure as hell isn’t going to tell Eddie that now. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Christopher try to hide a giggle behind his hands.

Eddie hums, lips pulled into a sympathetic frown. “That sucks. I feel bad for whoever’s proposal got ruined.”

“Yeah.” Buck sighs and looks up defeatedly at the burning banner in the sky as the sirens in the distance grow louder. “Me too.”

[Two months into officially dating Eddie, Buck begins to plan the perfect, extravagant proposal that his boyfriend deserves. As usual, nothing goes according to plan.]

read on ao3

#911 #buddie #911 fic #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 on abc #911 abc #happy (late) valentines dayyy !!!#maria writes

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mariako · 2 years

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On the weekends Midoriya loves to bake his friends cakes and cookies!!! He wears an All Might apron and a matching chef hat and he loves to dancing around the dorm's kitchen while he bakes!!! Class 1-a loves to watch him when he bakes because he has the most bright and carefree smile on his face and he looks absolutely adorable and beautiful!! Mina and Uraraka love to take photos of him and then they put them on the Midoriya photo album (yes they have a Midoriya photo album) Todoroki,Iida,Kirishima and Kaminari look at Midoriya with a soft look on their faces!!! Bakugou acts like he is annoyed by it but they can spot him steal glances at Midoriya and smiling softly at him!! Everyone loves Midoriya and they love when he is happy and playful and carefree and of course they love his cakes and cookies!!!

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #dekubowl #mha fluff #midoriya is my sunshine child and he deserves everything #Maria writes

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cabezadeperro · 11 months

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wip wednesday

“You’re not like I imagined,” he says. He sounds disappointed. Jango folds his arms.

“I don’t want this. I never did,” he replies. “Find someone else.”

The kid snorts. “It’s funny. You think it matters,” he says. He bends down, down, down, until his nose almost brushes Jango. He smells of sweat and dirty hair and woodsmoke. He smirks. “It doesn’t.”

Jango doesn’t allow himself a reaction. He lets the condescension wash over him, and doesn’t move, doesn’t shift. When he doesn’t get a reaction, the kid scowls, takes a step back. His blue eyes flash.

“It will find you,” he says. He takes a step back, then another. “It always does.”

#maria writes #kenfetti #jangobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi

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pequena-colibri · 1 year

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Last night I was trying to pick up some orders with UberEats but it was not busy at all. I gave up in it and was going to head home but I started to listen to this playlist on Spotify that reminded me of my sister. I think some of the best memories I have from when I was a little girl were with her. She would actually play with me, we’d watch Gilmore Girls and make coffee to stay up late. I think she’s my best friend above all, and listening to those songs filled me with such good nostalgia. I drove around and sang on top of my lungs. I rolled down my windows and though I shivered, I loved the feeling of the wind through my hair. I felt almost…mischievous. I haven’t felt that in a cool minute.

#Maria writes

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mournfulroses · 2 months

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Albert Camus, from a letter to Maria Casarès written in August 1948

#lit #albert camus #maria casares #quotes #letters #words #writings #love letters #fragments #excerpts #1940's #p

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sicknessinmotion · 8 months

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EVERY TIME I LOOK BACK, MY CHILDHOOD GROWS HORNS; ON AGING.

lorde // iasoup on tumblr // alain de botton // jenny slate // katie maria // silas denver melvin // chelsea wolfe

#lorde #alain de botton #jenny slate #katie maria #silas denver melvin #chelsea wolfe #web weaving #webweaving #.w #words #quotes #poetry #writing #excerpts

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sarahreesbrennan · 3 months

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Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

#bookblr #discourse #in other lands #long live evil #les mis #carmen maria machado #writing

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bloodynereid · 2 months

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Navy Blue Ink

part 2

pairing: major john 'bucky' egan x fem! reader

tw: some angst, mentions of death, war, swearing, mentions of alcohol, the usual stuff idk it's sort of fluffy but also not really, both think it's unrequited love/platonic love (they're dumbasses (affectionate)), dogs??

description: when john actually sets it up right.

a/n: yeah idk something possessed me to write this, i was lying in my bathtub this morning and was like yup need to write this ASAP. apologies if john is sort of ooc, i haven't written for him before and i haven't written in a while so yeah! also i have so many requests atm but i decided to ignore all of those to write this so enjoy me procrastinating things i actually have to do. OH and obv this is about the show's characters not the real people. enjoy <3

You sat at your little desk at the edge of your flat, contemplating how to start the letter… again. Pieces of balled up paper lay littered around you. It was almost comedic how much time you had spent trying to write a simple little letter. But it wasn’t that simple was it?

You were writing to your childhood best friend, someone you had basically been in love with your entire life. Major John Egan, Bucky, went off to fight and you were left with a large gaping hole in your life.

Sure, it was horrible when you saw him kissing, dancing and singing to other girls… probably doing more than that. But he always came back to you.

One guarantee that war had was that men don’t always come back.

So you had put off writing letters to him ever since he swung by your house to drop off the address for his next station all that time ago. You were a different person now, you had a job, a flat and a husky you had decided to name Ghost. You were also sadder, war had a way of taking a toll on everyone it touched.

But this morning you had decided not to put it off any longer. The decision came to fruition as you were lying in the bathtub, trying to soak away your sorrows. That was the moment when you said fuck it, got out of the bathtub, grabbed a robe and sat down at your desk.

You took a deep breath and dipped your pen into the navy blue ink pot. Your hand shook slightly as the pen met paper and words started to flow.

A few hours later, you woke up suddenly from a nap and instantly ran over to your desk and quickly scribbled a short note, putting a picture into an envelope and running to post the second letter before it was too late.

John felt a wave of sadness and defeat wash over him when nothing came for him in the mail call. It was stupid. He urged the emotion away and ran a hand through his hair. Be a man. You don’t need a fucking letter.

He watched as Buck leaned against one of the chests of drawers with a stupid smile on his face. Envy seeped through his pores. He wanted that. Whatever Bucky was feeling when he read his letter from Marge.

Fuck this. John needed a glass of strong whiskey right the fuck now. His throat almost ached for that sweet burn.

“Major! I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize these two were for you Bucky.” John’s mouth fell open as he stood up and quickly ambled over to see that there were in fact two letters addressed to him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Major.” John delicately took the papers and ignored Buck’s look of confusion as he gingerly cradled the letters to his chest and sat back down on the uncomfortable wooden chair.

There was no mistake that these were for him. Major John Egan was written in careful and delicate cursive, although on one of the letters the name looked more rushed than on the other.

He carefully tore open the first letter, the smell of woodsy perfume suddenly permeated his senses. A perfume he knew well. Y/N.

John could hardly believe it. She actually wrote to him. Nothing for months and then this. He pulled out the cream paper and carefully unfolded it.

Dear Bucky,

Twentieth time is the charm I guess. How are you? I have no idea how you’re supposed to write these things, maybe that’s why it took me so long to write to you.

God, I miss you John. I know that’s so stupid to say but I miss my best friend. I am truly sorry that I didn’t send you a letter sooner. I’m sure you’re missing me terribly as well and I have just been a cruel human being by not sending you letters.

I guess I didn’t send anything because I didn’t know what to say. I finally decided to just write a letter this morning while in the bathtub. No, don’t you dare smirk John it wasn’t like that. My ma might just murder me for being so unladylike but I can’t bring myself to start writing yet another letter that will just end up crumpled on my floor so you are getting the truth and nothing but the truth, Major. So yes I concede I was thinking about you in the bathtub.

Anyways, how's Buck? I remember you telling me about him during your visit so I thought I might mention it. You two seemed to be getting close and I’m glad you have someone out there to support you when I can’t. He can’t take the title of best friend though, that’s reserved for me!

What else? Well… I got a job and a dog! And I moved out. I now live in this tiny little flat (it’s very charming so don’t start scrunching your face up like you always do) and drink endless amounts of coffee. You got me hooked. What can I say?

I don’t know what else to say other than stay safe. I don’t think I could bear it if you died, Bucky. Maybe you already have and I just don’t know, so I’m hoping beyond hope that this letter reaches you. Remember that I love you always, you idiotic man.

Your best friend obviously,

Y/N L/N

John felt his eyes starting to sting. He had been so preoccupied with the war that he had also forgotten to write to her. The girl who had stolen his heart at age six when she threw mud at him when they were playing in the creek. His little angel who had just brought some light back into his life.

A smile twitched on his face, she was still his girl. And she said she loved him! Probably not the way he loved her but still, he would take anything she was willing to give him.

“Bucky?” The rasp of Buck’s voice shook him out of his reverie and he looked up to see his friend looking at him with a question in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s the letter from?”

“None of your business, Buck.” John says with an easy smirk falling on his face, a little spark in his soul seemed to reignite, he missed you and now at least he knew you missed him too.

“Jesus, come on. Who the hell is writing to you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“John…”

“It’s from Y/N.” Buck’s eyebrows raised in response and John outright laughed at how surprised he looked. “She asked how you are.”

“Y/N? Is she the one-”

“Yes, now shut up. I still have another letter to read.” Buck laughed and raised his arms in defense before turning back to his own letter. He was glad his best friend had that sparkle back in his eyes, it had been missing for too damn long.

John placed the letter back into the envelope and grabbed the hastily addressed one. He was surprised to see that there were two things in this one. Pulling out the letter he quickly read the words before his jaw dropped.

Dear Bucky,

I completely forgot to attach a picture to the last letter, since I’m assuming you want to know what I look like now.

Anyways here is a picture of me and Ghost, the love of my life.

- Y/N

John carefully tipped the letter to the side and out fell a picture into his outstretched hand. And it was you, but also not you. You looked so much older and there was a hint of melancholy in your eyes but there was still that distinct bright smile on your face. Your arms were encased around a large husky with eyes that were almost as blue as Buck’s.

It was wrong but he felt a pang of jealousy. God he wished he was in that dog’s place.

yeah... i'm obsessed with all the men in mota. i think i have a problem

part 2

#masters of the air #john egan #john bucky egan #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #mota #mota fanfic #mota spoilers #buck cleven #gale cleven #harry crosby #bucky egan #masters of the air fic #masters of the air x reader #maria writes

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helion-ism · 3 months

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SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 1: First Date

@sjmromanceweek

Summary: “This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine. / Elain and Lucien’s first date.

Word Count: 2,014

or: read it on ao3

someone lit from within

There was only one thing Elain Archeron hated more than spiders, hated more than withered flowers or more than cold tea. One thing that she hated more than waking up to dark grey clouds hanging threateningly over the city, one thing that made her shiver more than any horror film could ever do.

Wrapping her arms around her body and clutching her light blue Cleo bag to her stomach, Elain was squeezing past the people trying to stow away their luggage in the cargo hold of the small airplane she was boarding. She absolutely loathed that there was simply no way of entering and leaving an airplane without having touched at least five different people.

She’d been trembling for at least an hour now, ever since arriving at that wretched airport. Was shaking despite wearing her favourite sweater for comfort. Nesta had gifted it to her for her last birthday. Elain hated herself for a moment for not spending additional money for a seat of her choice. Then she wouldn’t have had to make her way all through the aisle to the very back – of course, she would be that unfortunate. It didn’t matter that this was a small plane and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t too badly packed. It did nothing to calm her furiously beating heart. But she had promised Feyre. She’d promised she’d come visit again for Nyx’ first birthday, and she wasn’t one to break promises. Especially promises that involved the cutest nephew a young woman could have.

For as long as she could remember, Elain hated flying. Even as a little girl she knew that there was nothing natural about humans trapped in a box in the sky completely relying on forces most of the passengers did not care to grasp. It wasn’t normal, she thought now, too. It was especially not normal how she began to tremble uncontrollably as soon as she boarded the plane while every other person seemed to be fine with it, a few of them even enjoying the process simply because it meant going somewhere else. They weren’t even in the sky yet. She had debated requesting diazepam from her doctor but ultimately decided against it. Elain wanted to fight this – in her opinion – utterly rational, albeit apparently not very common, fear of flying.

A woman was what looked like fighting with her carry-on bag in the aisle. Elain stopped and smiled politely. The blonde cursed when she noticed Elain, apologizing, and moved out of the way. Another reason for hating flying: Almost everybody was stressed. There was absolutely no way of travelling by airplane and not getting stressed in the process. Everyone seemed to be on the edge, the slightest annoyance reason enough for a ruined day.

Elain finally reached the back where her seat was. She was sweating and desperately wished for a shower. Some rows weren’t fully occupied, but there were enough passengers on the plane that at least one person was seated in each row. She hoped —

Elain frowned as she looked at her ticket again that she had pressed into her chest. Yes, there was somebody occupying her seat, the one she’d not chosen, the one in the very back. She cleared her throat, unsure of what to do. The man was handsome, his long red hair was tied up into a half bun. A thin braid accented his facial bone structure, and Elain’s heart appeared to stop for a second when he looked up at her and smiled, immediately getting up.

“Do you have any luggage I can help you with?” His voice was like honey, smooth and gentle.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, that’s all,” Elain said, not understanding at all why she sounded so nervous. She blamed her aerophobia. The stranger looked at her, waiting.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you want the window seat?”

“Why?” Did she sound suspicious?

“I’m just being polite,” he said, holding his hands up in defence. “I fly quite a lot, so I don’t really care where I’m sitting.”

“No, no,” she replied quickly, feeling like a fool. “I don’t want to. But thank you.” She tried to smile at him, but had a feeling it looked more like she was cringing. She also immediately regretted her answer. Who on earth would turn down a window seat?

After she settled down and the plane’s engine started, the noise cutting out the voices and the rustling of the passengers, Elain noticed the temperature of the cabin. Despite feeling quite hot when entering the plane, she almost always felt cold in flying box – another phenomenon she could not quite understand.

She shivered at the coldness, cursing herself silently for not bringing her jacket with her, and closed her eyes as the plane began to move. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

She hated this part the most and wondered whether she should have taken the train instead. But it was a tedious trip, too long and exhausting, and flying was just too convenient. The handsome stranger next to her did not seem to have a problem with flying or the temperature at all, so Elain tried to not let her anxiety show. He smelled nice, too. But that didn’t matter now when the plane was taking off.

Elain gripped the armrest tightly and closed her eyes. Only a few minutes and this would almost feel like a train ride. Ant then finally –

Pace picking up. Turbines louder. And those few seconds of anticipation and dread in every passengers’ stomachs right before the plane takes off. Air rushing. Ears popping.

At last, the plane levelled out. To calm herself, Elain took out a small book out of her bag and began to read it. Nesta had given it to her for her a while ago, and from what Elain knew about Nesta’s book preferences, she didn’t need to look at the description on the back of it to learn that it is a romance with quite a few explicit scenes. She wondered if the stranger next to her saw what smut she was reading. But she couldn’t focus, her eyes registered to words, but her brain didn’t. Elain decided to put the book away.

Now, she sat in her seat, still restless, wondering when the flight attendants would come to serve drinks and snacks. Maybe that would help.

The last time Elain had flown was about a year ago when Nyx had been born. She had felt a lot more awful back then, having just discovered Graysen in bed with his assistant. His 20-year-old assistant. In her and Graysen’s bed. Needless to say, Elain got rid of that bed. And the guy. But God, had she felt awful. Crying in her seat and mourning both her old life and her future as his wife. She could not remember if she had been scared then. Maybe that was the trick, Elain thought now.

Suddenly, the all-too-known and hated, shrill beeping noise came out of the speakers. Elain peered out the window behind the stranger, but it was too dark. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking booking a flight at night. The plane began to shake, and she imagined the wind was howling outside. Turbulences. Of course, there would be turbulences. Elain had thought it might calm her down, might stifle her uneasiness, flying in the dark. Not seeing anything, maybe she could pretend she was taking a train through the countryside where no city lights lit up the surroundings.

Obviously, it did not calm her down. She was fairly certain she was shaking slightly.

She couldn’t just pretend to be in bed, couldn’t pretend her window was open and the airflow coming from the air conditioning wasn’t just the wind breeze in her face. It was the noises that destroyed any possibility of that.

A baby was crying somewhere in the front.

Elain clutched her throat. Suddenly, a male voice, soft and cautious, asked, “Are you okay?” She knew the only reason why she didn’t feel embarrassed at that was her fear. Embarrassment would follow later.

“I’m just … a little afraid of flying, that’s all.”

He was silent. Then, he said, “That explains your pale face.” Elain snorted at his reply and opened her eyes to see him look at her tentatively. He really was very handsome.

“You know, the odds of an airplane crash are one in eleven million. More than 90 percent of plane crashes actually have survivors. Chances are pretty good. It’s more likely you experience a train crash. Or even more than that, a car crash. How many people do you know who have been in a car accident?”

Elain thought about his question for a few seconds. “Like four people.”

“How many of those happened separately?”

“Three,” she smiled at him now.

“And how many people do you know who have been in a plane crash?”

“You know, that’s not fair. Obviously, no one.” He grinned at her. “But! But that doesn’t make my anxiety magically disappear.”

“I understand that argument. The first time I flew, I was about five years old. Went to visit my dad for the first time. I was so scared. My mother never told me I was silly for being scared. She understood and told me the same I just told you. Statistics helped me. But also knowing that flight attendants were trained for difficult situations. If you can’t rely on numbers, then you should try to rely on people.” He held out his hand to her. It was warm when she took it, shaking it slightly. His fingers wrapped around her hand effortlessly. “I’m Lucien, by the way.”

“I’m Elain,” she said and managed to relax a little. She found herself enjoying his company. Lucien was charming, funny, and conversation with him was easy.

Soon, the turbulences thankfully ceased and flight attendants, the ones Elain had decided to trust after all, began to hand out drinks. Lucien got a bottle of Pinot noir for the two of them after asking if she drank wine. He suggested the alcohol might help her anxiety a little, too. She was always unsure about this, but decided to indulge in it. He made it easy for her.

They talked about Lucien’s mother and his first meeting with his dad. Elain told him about her nephew and how difficult it was for her to see her family so rarely. Lucien told her about his pet – a twelve-year-old orange cat named Ollie that his brother took care of at the moment. It was natural, the way they talked to each other without taking breaks, and even if there was one, it was comfortable. Elain didn’t feel stressed about keeping the conversation going because she felt like he was in control of it, not in a creepy, dominating way, but rather in a manner that allowed her to relax and lean back. He showed interest in her, which flattered her. She was too scared to ask him where he lived, not wanting to seem too eager.

Lucien apparently didn’t have those any qualms.

“This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine.

Elain startled at his nonchalant statement, but quickly found she liked his charming boldness. So she asked, “How do you know I’m not with someone right now?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Neither am I,” his smile broadened. This time when she felt a flutter in her stomach, it wasn’t from the airplane, but because of his smile. He looked so relaxed, confident, and content, as if he was lit from inside. It seemed as if his calmness and happiness transferred over to her, dispelling negative feelings.

“I am visiting. Or, I should say, going home. To see my sister.”

“I am visiting, too,” Lucien said.

“Thank God,” Elain smiled in return. It meant wherever he came from was not too far away from her current home. Maybe flying wasn’t really that bad after all. At least, she thought, when he was sitting right next to her.

#elucien #maria writes #sjmromanceweek2024

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