#you asked i answered
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imagine copia about to become papa iv and his prime mover saying something like "you're going to be papa" and he's like duh, not getting it at all, and she literally has to go "no, you're going to be *papa*" and that's how she breaks the news to him
It's a shame how long it's been since I got this...like a year. 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️
Hopefully this little sumthin sumthin will be worth it.
And Then It Hit Him
You have news for your husband, Cardinal Copia on the brink of his ascension to the Papacy, but will he stop long enough to listen?
Also available on AO3 HERE!
You were doing your best to remain patient, though the news was burning from inside you. Wringing the fabric of your habit in your fingers as you waited for the perfect moment to interrupt him. Your husband had barely looked up from his parchments since you entered. A comfortable silence between you as you noted his hands were once again covered in ink.
You were instantly transported back to when your dear sweet Cardinal was only the Ministry treasurer, and you still a naive novitiate. A time when you fell hard and fast in love with eachother. Watching with joy as he ascended the ranks of the Ministry. Proving himself worthy of his station at each and every turn.
Now he was only weeks away from the announcement that he would receive the miter. The highest honor that only the select few could ever hope to achieve within the church. Truth be told you had wondered if your news would pale in comparison, but knowing Copia as you did, there was no way it would.
"Cope..." You nudge, hoping to finally garner his attention. Copia stopped, pulling his glasses off from where they hung on the bridge of his nose and began rubbing his eyes. Clearly he hadn't moved them from his work for more than a few second at a time.
"I'm so sorry cara, I just have so much work that needs to be done before I head back out on tour. If I leave anything unfinished Sister will have my head for it." He responded, taking your hand in his. His eyes, returning to his desk. You could tell he was worn down by it. The endless bureaucracy of the Ministry trampling over him in the guise of all this paper and ink.
"Copia, my love...I know you have a lot on your plate, but I—I just have something I wanted to tell you."
"Of course, what is it?" He asked you, a sweet smile sent your way.
"Well.." You began, rounding his desk and placing your head on his shoulder. Breathing in the scent of his cologne. Like old books and patchouli, a scent that had intoxicated you night after night for so long now. It hardly seemed fair just how much it had affected you. Like a spell cast on your senses. Clearly it was one of the many reasons, like his undeniable charm, that led to you being in this position. "Soon my love…you are going to be a Papa.”
You were surprised when Copia's reaction was lacking. Letting out a sigh as he finished up the sentence he had been writing. "I know, I know. That's why I have to get this done." He explained, clear now that he had completely missed what you were trying to tell him. You thought for a moment, trying to decide if you could stand one more minute of knowing it all on your own, before finally you let out a groan.
It stopped him, Copia catching on that you needed him. Letting the pen drop to the desk as he pulled his attention away from the plethora of papers decorating it to face you. Heeding you as you gently brought his jaw up to help face you. Your eyes locked with his when he gently kissed your hand. The hair of his sideburns, tickling your palm as you spoke.
"No…Copia.” You began, a note of both amusement and disbelief in your voice, “...that's not what I was trying to say.”
“I'm sorry amore… you should have had my full attention. Please…what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I'm trying to tell you, you silly man, that you are going to be A PAPA.” You emphasized by taking his hand and placing it on the small of your belly. Suddenly it was clear to him. Hitting him all at once as his eyes began stinging with tears. He stared at your still inconspicuous belly. Both mystified and deliriously happy before looking up at you.
“Amore, are you sure?” he asked you. His voice quivering—a mess of emotions. You could feel Copia's hand trembling as his thumb gently glided over your stomach. Already so gentle and tender with a child he had only just discovered existed.
“I'm very sure Cope…we’re going to have a baby.” You smiled.
“Sweet Satanas, I'm going to be a Papa!” Copia yelped, casting himself up from the chair and pulling you tightly into his arms. Blissfully crying and whispered praises in Italian, his hand never leaving your belly. You began to laugh. Copia looking up at you once again just as your own tears began streaming down your face.
“A papa and Papa.”
Notes:
novitiate- nun or sister in training
#thank you ghestie for being so wonderfully patient#i hope you like it#you asked i answered#copia x reader#copia x sister of sin#cardinal copia x sister sin#cardinal copia x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#papa emeritus iv x sister of sin#papa iv x sister os sin#papa iv x reader#copia#cardinal copia#sister of sin#ren writes#papa iv#papa emeritus iv#pregnancy#fluff#no smut surprisingly lol#ghost#the band ghost#ghost fic#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fic#the band ghost fanfic#the band ghost fanfiction
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i was reading your thoughts on how fans felt about l&oha and while i concur it is a perfect piece of work in my head and have reread it 5x, i wonder if you think fans tend to be harsher/more critical of hermione and let draco slide? i see it a lot in fics where he's more of an alphahole type
Oh, man. Okay. The can is open, the worms are loose. Rant under the cut.
I'm actually going to set men aside entirely. Just. To the side with you. I desperately need more realistically complicated men, too, but that's a whole separate discussion. Right now: women.
There must be whole dissertations out there on the phenomenon of readers hating female characters with negative traits. I'm a fandom old, so I didn't grow up identifying with Hermione, and wouldn't have even if I'd been young enough to. I did that "which character are you" test just now and my top three matches were Janis Ian from Mean Girls, Jughead from Riverdale and April from Parks and Rec, which, massive grain of salt, etc. BUT gives you an idea. I am not a Hermione and never was, so she's never been a comfort character or self-insert for me. Some of my favorite fictional women are Sophie Hatter (mean, irrational, petty, old and mostly loving it), Harrowhark Nonagesimus (evil stick), Phryne Fisher (zero fucks to give). What I like about Hermione is how imperfect she is. I'm a "cleverest witch of your age I've ever met" truther (book!Lupin is absolutely saying "you're the canniest 14 year-old child I have personally met, saying this as a guy who doesn't get out much," not "you are a once-in-a-century genius"), and from my perspective, she's often wrong and often a dick, and not in a fun and fiesty burn-down-the-world BAMF way. Which. Good for her! Be human.
And that's the thing. I personally don't want Hermione to be perfect, I want her to be what I think she is, textually, which is intelligent, hardworking, loyal, competitive, compassionate, controlling, belittling, rude, petty, insecure, vindictive, volatile. She has the right to be that way, because she's human. The desire for perfected women (or unapologetically and unstoppably awful ones, another brand of female power fantasy) is not limited to Dramione fandom. I think it's amplified in DHr by many readers who DO identify as former gifted children, books-as-coping-mechanism kids and Strong Female Personalities who felt marginalized in childhood and want to see Hermione have it all: she's slim, she's tiny, she's fragile as a bird, she'll break your neck, she'll step on your throat, she'll tear down the system, she'll heal all wounds, she does not need help, she holds all the knowledge, she holds all the cards, she is forever wronged, she can do no wrong, her vagina is tight, her nipples are hard, her hair is on point, her waist is tiny, her tits are bouncing, her ass is in the style of Now. And like. This isn't at all unique to DHr and Hermione. It's pervasive in fiction written by and for women. Female power fantasies are obviously feeding a massive hunger. It's just not what I personally want. Personally, I find it alienating and uncomfortable, which I know equates to, "That is wrong and shouldn't exist" to a lot of people, but that's its own tale as old as time.
There's a disconnect that happens too often where a reader wants one (1) thing from their fiction, and receives something else, even when the contents are clearly labeled on the tin. In this case, wanting a female power fantasy and encountering a woman who's written with flaws makes people upset. And maybe if we could be more honest with ourselves about what we're looking for when we read, work to accept that not everyone wants the same experience, and learn to close a book when it's not working for us and say, "No shade, this isn't for me," it would be less upsetting when we encounter a character who isn't written to meet our personal expectations. I will open a book, realize the FMC is a female power fantasy archetype and close it, because that's not what I show up for. I like my women gritty and weird and foolish and vulnerable and liable to hurt people and feel terrible about it. Give me all the exhausting chatterers and evil sticks and jocks with swords and their hearts on their sleeves (their hearts ripped out), give me shy Anne Elliot and her suitcase full of regrets and the ugly fuckup who never has a glow up, give me dirtbag stoners and Fleabag and Alicent Hightower apologetics and every role Natasha Lyon has ever played. It's not a moral high ground, it's about a preference for seeing actual, demeritus flaws on the page and on the screen. Blame that woman. It's her fault. She has so many faults. Then show me how to forgive her so I can figure out how to forgive myself.
The thing is, I love women. I love women so fucking much. I want to be around them, to get to know them, to read about them, to watch them on TV and see them in films. And personally, I like them ugly. Physically. Spiritually. Morally. Give a woman a Bad Personality and watch her succeed in the most self-injurious way possible, fuck you. Give her a gaping chest wound and line it with teeth. Stick a piece of grit in that girl's tightly sealed shell so that a pearl is her only option. Make her love other women, make her fuck it up, make her have to earn them back.
Thankfully I do feel like we're getting more ugly women in fiction, especially BIPOC, queer and marginalized women who deserve gross, weird, nasty representation and not just didactic moralism, patronization and misguided sainthood. Some readers won't want that, and that's fine. Again, personally (it's all so personal, please, please remember that when you hit that comment button), I'm here for it. If you write about women like this, know that you have a thirsty reader here. I'm swallowing them up. I'm smacking my lips. I'm smashing my mug on the cafeteria floor and calling for another.
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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here!
Firstly, thank you @il0vemazzystarr for my first-ever question in my Askbox. :)
1. Hogwarts: Legacy (obviously...LMAO). My husband (not me) bought the game last February because I was very vocally adamant that I wouldn't like it. Turns out he knows me better than I know myself. <3
2. Writing. The first "book" I ever wrote was in kindergarten. It was about a horse named Rose who wanted to learn how to ride a bike. The plot was *chef's kiss*. The illustrations... well, not so much. (I have been writing ever since.)
3. Coffee. It's my lifeblood. I nearly always have a cup beside me.
4. Workout classes, particularly yoga, kickboxing, and dance. I have never been very good at motivating myself to work out on my own, but if I can find a decent class somewhere that's well-attended, I will be there religiously every week. I love to exercise with other people! Fun fact: I once took a Fencing class. I was absolutely atrocious at it, but would still recommend it.
5. Reading. Before I had my child, I typically read anywhere from 75 - 90 books a year. My favorite genres are fantasy, m/m romance, and science fiction. My favorite book last year was Less by Andrew Sean Greer (The MC, Arthur, is my spirit animal).
Tagging the last 8 people who have liked or reblogged something on my page here (no pressure to answer though!):
@honeybadgerdontcare394
@heyitszev
@juneymont
@a-usernamelol
@kylowrehn
@cherry-lys
@breannabanana8
@the-chaotic-scilla-aster
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Top rareships~
I guess it depends on your definition of rare? Like, less than 1000 Ao3 fics with their pairing? But I think I know a safe, easy answer:
Tenten/Hidan -- or literally anybody else besides her teammates.
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Okay!
4 11 13 15 17 21 28 31 36 51 55
Dang, that's a lot! <3
4. what are you looking forward to?
I am getting married in Ireland in June. My wedding will be a dark/ethereal vintage romantic vibe and I'm literally getting married at Dunluce Castle. A dream!
5. are you listening to music right now?
Nope. I'm enjoying the complete silence of my house :)
13. how do you feel right now?
I started antibiotics last Wednesday and I'm feeling so much better. I'm starting to get more of my writing out and I think it's reaching more people, so that brings me joy!
15. personality description
Growing up, I was VERY outgoing and outspoken but I've mellowed a ton. I've been told I come off as shy and a little intimidating until you get to know me. I have always had a love for the unusual things in life and have been able to see beauty in darkness. I was the odd one out (didn't have a ton of friends growing up). I love and care fiercely and I will do anything for my friends and loved ones. I think I'm the funniest person to exist even though I'm probably not.
My students describe me as sassy (I love to roast them) and see me as a second mom haha.
17. opinion on insecurities.
I'm not really sure what this one means, but I'm going to answer it as if it's my opinion on my own insecurities.
I'm insecure about my body. I have the typical hourglass figure (big hips/thighs, big tits, small waist) but I also have hip dips so anything form fitting is a no go. I grew up in the late 90s/early 00s diet culture and have yo-yoed in weight since I was a kid. I had an almond (step)mom and I still feel shame around food. It's something I'm working on in therapy. I have so much pride and respect for Gen Z and their movement of body acceptance and positive body culture. It's something I wish us millennials had done when we were younger.
21. age and birthday?
August 13th; I’m 31 going on 85
28. i’ll love you if…
You are kind and genuine. You leave me comments on/reblog my work (because as much as I say I write for self-satisfaction, I also love recognition like anyone else and I have a really low self esteem when it comes to my writing). You take me out for coffee. You have a good sense of humor (extra points if it's dry or dark).
29. 3 random facts
I had to be treated for the plague in my 20s (yes, the literal bubonic plague)
I used to be a top writer on a fanfic website when I was 13 (early 2000s) and I cringe thinking of the shit I put out 😂
*trigger warning for injury* I have seen/smelt burning flesh (like, flesh melting off someone's body) as a result of an accident in high school. I still get jumpy around explosives. 10/10 don't recommend.
36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?
I'd like to be a published author that gets to share their thinking with the world (and ngl I'd love to do an international book tour).
I want to get back into music/playing piano (I'm too scared to try and don't even know where to start).
I want to travel more (ideally to Europe). It's so expensive and I'm poor and landlocked.
51. starsign
Leo Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Aquarius Moon
55. tumblr friends
@copiasghoulfriend @copias-juicebox @anamelessfool @portaltothevoid @katyaoaksdottir @the-lisechen
In response to Get to know me, pick some numbers post
#random asks#get to know me#get to know fish#asks#asks are open#you asked i answered#ask me stuff#ask away#love this fandom
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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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continuing to answer the question “do you need anything” with “yeah, a lobotomy” in hopes one day someone just does the job for me
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rate them in terms of style, attractiveness and how much their style matches with yours
nimmen.
sometimes i question why we are friends.
but you are weird, and i love weird
so i will answer your question but i will be sobbing as i do so
i hate the shirt. I despise the earings and the collar of a choker. The shade of blue of the hair and the eyes is nice but i do not think the color suits them.
Definitely not my style. Like at all.
#please dont come for me nimmen#you asked i answered#show mercy upon thee#ty for the ask <3#tina responds#moots—greenmanwiththesauce
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Alright, so I am new to the fandom, and while I have so many asks because I am INCREDIBLY invested in this show, I figured I'd start out with a "simple" one, maybe. What do you believe is the thematic symbolism of Raylan's hat and what it means when he doesn't wear it?
hi justie! welcome to the madness. when/if you're ever ready to come off anon, there's lots of blogs here for you to follow and we have a discord.
i love this question! thanks for popping into my ask box. i could write any entire essay on this with diagrams and screenshots, but i'll try to keep this short for now.
first off, i think it needs to be mentioned that the most obvious symbolism/use of the hat is how it immediately signifies to the audience that Justified isn't a typical cop drama, it's a modern-day western. a cowboy hat on top of the protagonist's head immediately clues you into that (plus it's sexy af let's be real).
beyond that, i think the hat is a mask for Raylan and he uses it to both comfort and empower himself. the same way he uses his star as a shield to get away with his outrageous behavior. Raylan swaggers around as a cool cowboy and has an asshole authority figure persona. and like most social masks, i believe it's simultaneously both true and un-true.
the color of Raylan's hat also has its very own symbolism. it's not a white hat (the official color is silverbelly), because Raylan isn't actually a hero. he's just the protagonist of the story.
as for what it means when he doesn't wear it...from what i can remember from watching (and rewatching the show), Raylan sometimes takes off his hat to be polite, but he isn't consistent about it. he wears it inside frequently. i don't think i can really ascribe any particular symbolism to when he doffs it VS when he doesn't. he just seems practical about both taking off + putting on his hat.
i will say however that he does seem to use the brim of his hat to hide his eyes sometimes. and in his intimate scenes with his lady friends, he doesn't leave the hat on (such a shame).
that's just what i think though! justies what do y'all think about raylan and his stetson?
#tooks.txt#you asked i answered#great question thank you this was so fun to think about#raylan givens#justified fx#ask a justie#also anon justie feel free to pop into my ask box any time#feed me more questions and thoughts and ideas
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I could also use some more Papa Terzo getting his face sat on by anyone. nemA. 🙏
Hey there ghestie!!!
I have so many things in the works for you lol but to start here's a little taste....no pun intended.
For your reading pleasure....
Smeared Paint
Featuring Terzo x reader for some face sitting/riding fun 😏
Also available HERE on AO3!
Definitely NSFW below the cut
"Are you sure about this?" you asked him. Your thighs tingling in anticipation. Trying hard to stop your legs from shaking as your wet core hovered just above his painted lips.
"Si, sorella…now sit. I'm growing impatient." Terzo whined. Licking a trail up your thigh. Teasing his hot breath at your folds. You let out a sigh, ready to feel his mouth on you—insides pulsing just at the thought.
After all, he preferred it this way. Face buried into your folds. Ready to give his life in worship of your cunt. And though you had been his altar many times before, you always hesitated, worried you may facilitate his meeting Lucifer before his time.
Before you could say anything else, the choice was made for you. Terzo quickly wrapped his arms around your thighs. Fingers dug deep into the flesh as he pulled you down hard on his face. The tender flesh of your cunt meeting with his mouth.
"Ah!" You cried out. His sinful tongue slithered its way from your taint to your clit. Dipping into your opening a moment before he continued on. Lapping at you like melted gelato on a hot summer day. Both of you moaning as you instinctively rolled yourself over his face. The vibrations from his enthusiasm—heading straight to your clit.
"Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito…" Terzo praised as he came up for air. His decadent words–followed by a string of moaning and indiscernible Italian.
"Mmm…yeah…mmm…" you moaned. Your pussy gliding with ease across the broadness of his tongue. Terzo, kissing and nipping and sucking on your folds and you rode his face. You became lost in pleasure, grinding on him with wild abandon. Overwhelmed in your lustful haze.
You tried to raise up, but you were quickly forced back down. Terzo holding you, like a vice grip against his mouth. Your whole cunt dripping with his saliva—messy and wet as he continued. The pressure built up inside you, slowly starting to release.
"Oh Papa, I wanna cum." You mewled; hand grabbed firmly on a tuft of raven black hair before you. Terzo staring up at you as he devoured you. Gently sucking on your lips and sliding his tongue once more over your cunt.
"Then cum." He told you, his voice full of that suave, devilish charm that had made you fall for him in the first place. "Give me communion sorella."
That was enough to send you over, yanking harder on his hair. Terzo hissing, his paints smeared all over his face and the inside of your thighs. Mixing for a perfect shade of gray.
You came. The third Emeritus son drinking you down like the richest of wines. Savoring the notes of pleasure, divined in the way you tasted. Your fluids running over the corners of his smiling mouth. Still refusing to release his hold on you.
You were breathless and spent, finding yourself falling. Collapsing down beside him in the ocean of violet sheets. A smile on your face—speaking to your lover's skill. Maybe you'd be the one to die from the sheer ecstasy he brought you.
You kept your eyes closed. Enjoying listening to the sound of your shared breathing, when you felt Terzo get up. Taking hold of your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. Pulling you up on your knees before you could even speak.
"Ass up sorella. I'm not done with you yet." Terzo teased.
"Oh!" You called out as he guided the swell of your ass higher in the air. Marveling at the sight of it, before adding two fingers carefully into your entrance. Pressing hard and deep into the bundle of nerves. Cloaked within you—a place only he was able to find.
"That's a good girl sorella." Terzo praised you as you rolled your hips back against his fingers. Terzo glided his hand across your ass. His fingers sprayed out over it before giving you a good smack. Your cunt, jolting back even harder onto his hand. Face pressed against the bed, trying your best to quiet your moans. The mid-morning rendezvous, proving to be more noisy than you intended.
"Tell me how bad you want his cock sorella. How much you long for my fingers to be replaced with it. So I can fill you and have you dripping with me." Terzo commanded.
"Uh! Fuck…Yes!" You called out as he made you cum again on his hand.
"Tell me what you want." He ordered you, removing his fingers and stroking himself with your slick. Cock hard and at attention and ready to do as promised.
"I want your cock. Please…"
"Please, what?" He taunted. Allowing the plump, leaking head of his cock to tap against your core.
"Fuck! Papa! Please!" You cried, desperate for it now. Terzo, giving a sinister smile as he obliged you. Slamming himself through your folds and taking hold of the lush curves of your thighs. Pounding inside you with full fervor.
"See…all you need is to ask nicely…"
"Mmm…Papa, yes. Ah…ah…." You moaned, feeling him spreading you out. Pressing all around inside, your body tugging against him with every thrust. You began to compress around him. Clamping down on his cock as you began to cum. Practically screaming now in your pleasure. Both sure the whole of the Abbey could hear you. Not that either of you cared.
"That's it…ah…yes…sorella…" Terzo groaned. Quickly losing his stride as your pussy fluttered around him. "Your. Cunt. Is. Mine." He growled as you felt him kick inside you. His burning seed, flooding deep inside. Your Papa, continuing his movements until he was sure you were stuffed full.
He hung limp over you. Kissing the small of your back as he pulled his softened cock from inside you. Continuing his row of kisses as he met with your ass. Coming to lay beside you and shielding you from the cool air with the cover of his sheets.
"That was incredible…" you began before you realized what day it was, "...uh…Papa. Isn't it your day for confession?" You asked.
"Oh shit, yes!" Terzo panicked. Springing up from the bed in a fury. Rummaging around the room for his discarded vestments. Quickly redressing before giving your forehead a kiss. "I'll be back for you later." He smiled attempting to head out the door.
"Wait! Wait! You can't go out like that!" You told him. He turned to face you, eyebrow perked and that puzzled look on his face.
"And why not?"
"Your paints!" You told him, half laughing, motioning to your lap that looked like a grayscale painting.
Terzo smirked, "Hmph…let them see."
Notes:
Hmm...Sister, your pussy tastes so good. Like divine fruit from the forbidden tree. -Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito.
#you asked i answered#Smeared paint#terzo#papa iii#papa emeritus iii#terzo x reader#terzo x afab reader#terzo x sibling of sin#terzo x sister of sin#ren writes#ghost#the band ghost#ghost fic#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfics#ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fic#the band ghost fanfic#the band ghost fanfiction
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Hi! I know some people in the fandom have decided to pull their works. I was wondering if this is something you’re considering? (I just want to be prepared in case it is!)
My work never blew up on Tiktok, and I don't think is ever mentioned there, so I haven't been impacted in the way the high profile writers have. Small mercies for being mid 😅 I assume Love and Other Historical Accidents is occasionally sold without my permission or knowledge as a typeset or bind, but right now I'm not planning to take anything down. It sounds like writers are taking control of their work the best they can, and my heart goes out to people who are being put in an untenable position because so many thousands of people loved their work. ❤️
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Last Line Tag Game
Thanks for the tag Lee @zablife ! 🥰
This is from the Tommy & Friend!Reader request I have — it’s called You Asked, I Answered … these few paragraphs are all that I’ve got written for it since motivation has been at an all time low for me recently. If anyone has any to spare, I’d love it if you sent it my way 😅
I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna tell him.
That was the statement that (Y/N) kept repeating in her mind as she made her way over to her friend's family home Watery Lane. She had no clue why she was feeling nervous right now, or why she needed to be psyching herself up to do this.
The two blinders standing outside the Shelby family home recognized her immediately. They both tipped their caps to her as they let her enter the home. She didn't have to venture in far to find him. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the small entry room that the house had.
"Tommy?" (Y/N) called to him after the sound of the door shutting hadn't been enough to get him to look in her direction. His eyes snapped over to her when she spoke his name, and the distant gaze that greeted her was enough to make the breath freeze in her throat. "Is everything ok?"
—
Tagging: @brummiereader @there-goes-thefighter @padfootdaredmetoo @peakyswritings @evita-shelby @justrainandcoffee
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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers :3
Oh my goodness! Thank you so much for including me in this fun game. I think I did this (or something similar) a month or so ago, but I can't find the post (LMAO), so hopefully I don't repeat myself. Here goes! :)
1. Books! I love to read. My favorite genre for the past few years has been m/m romance, but I've loved fantasy and science fiction for my whole life.
2. London. It's my favorite city in the world. The first time I went to London was when I was 17, and I've been 3x since (once when I studied abroad there, once when I was on a choir tour throughout Europe, and once for my honeymoon!). I'm due for another trip soon...
3. MY FRIENDS. I even have two best friends that have been in my life for over two decades now. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. (Friends includes my online buddies too!!! You know who you are <333)
4. This is primarily a Hogwarts: Legacy blog, I know, but my first love was Star Wars! Rogue One and Return of the Jedi are my favorite Star Wars movies (it's a tie), closely followed by Empire Strikes Back and A New Hope.
5. Shipping characters from my favorite fandoms. LMAO. Besides Sebastian/Damien (Damien being my OC), I am currently obsessed with Charlie/Bast (from @heyitszev's series), and Charlie/Damien (from an AU story that Zev and I are writing where our two OCs are enemies to lovers). Outside of Hogwarts: Legacy, I'm re-reading Priory of the Orange Tree, so naturally, I'm re-obsessed with Ead/Sabran.
Yay! I did it! XD
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤
Thank you for the ask! TBH I both hoped and dreaded this one coming my way. I don't usually like looking back but, in the end, this was actually more positive than painful.
1. The roles we play
(KakaSaku, 45.6K) Do you remember what you thought an ideal love would be like in your teens VS. what your ideal love (after love) would be like as an adult? Anyway, this was the fic that brought me back to writing. Fun fact: I was not a KakaSaku fan starting this. I just made myself one by the end.
2. Regret is the secret you keep
(Kirigan/Alina, 1.9K) - That one-shot that comes once in a sleepless blue moon, in a fandom you've never written for, and likely never will again (unless Ben Barnes makes a comeback). I still love it because it was so inspired, so effortless to write, so perfectly compact and complete when it was released less than 24 hours later. I have yet to recapture this kind of writing magic.
3. Mantis, Shadow, Wolf
(ItaSaku, KakaSaku, 49K) - At some point, we all crave something darkly beautiful. This was my point. I explored AU-building and a more visually symbolic writing style. It's intimate-- a Sakura character-study and journey about healing that's actually quite personal. And I'll always be proud of the amount of "raw" and "haunting" comments this receives.
4. Pretty hate machine
(Felix/Byleth -> Byleth/Dimitri -> Felix/Byleth/Dimitri, 13.9K) - A Felix character study which led me to conclude that the one true happy ending for him is a love triangle that stays a love triangle. Because something something triangles are the sturdiest shape. I admit the implied M/F + M/F + M/M = M/F/M doesn't sit well with everyone and every character interpretation, but I'm so SO happy with the friends I did gain through this fic.
5. You missed the ending (love)
(KakaSaku, 15.3K) - I honestly thought I wrote all I could write for KakaSaku before this. But as it turned out, I just got tired of angst. There was a very conscious effort to make this one feel-good and funny, with splashes of humor, generous sprinkles of romance, and an indulgently smutty finish. Essentially, a rom-com with an unquestionably happy ending. I was pretty pleased with the result (except for the going over my self-imposed word limit by +10K 🙈).
#my writing#kakasaku#darklina#felileth#felix x byleth x dimitri#itasaku#ao3#you asked i answered#on fanfic
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I wanna see the text thread where they coordinate their outfits
well has nate sold his NS house yet. he's likely bunking at sid's and both took turns sitting on their bed to fashion runway golf half-zips for each other. and sid was like im rly feeling this cape breton one we just picked up golfing here today and nate squealed OMG my ireland one is a matching blue YESSSS and happy happy off they went to the local pub arms locked
#sidnate#hrpf writing prompts#hrpf#sidney crosby#nathan mackinnon#you asked i answered#annieQ hockey thoughts
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For the ask game, 34, 64 & 68 - if you haven’t done these already 🥰
WOOHOO I LOVE THESE SO MUCH! KEEP 'EM COMIN'!
Response to the Horrible Questions Asks below 👇
34: Who/what was your last dream about?
I answered this one in my previous asks 🖤
64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?
Currently? Yes, he's at work. He'll be home in an hour though!
68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?
It depends on what you define as 'deep'. Probably my best friend that lives out of state. We talked about her starting the deconstruction process of religious trauma and I offered my insight and experience.
#horrible question asks#horrible questions#horrible asks#you asked i answered#ask me shit#ask me stuff#ask away#shitposting
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