#And Lucien regrets his actions every day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

Text

I'll Never Go, I Just Want To Be Invited

Summary: When the Archeron patriarch decides to sell his middle daughter's first night to the highest bidder, Lucien Vanserra vows to get her out of that devil's bargain through any means necessary.

For @sjmromanceweek day 4: Favorite Trope (Forced Marriage)

Read on AO3

Follow Archeron.

Lucien had come to regret those two words, delivered to him by his brother a week before. Archeron was a loser, pathetic and sniveling as he meandered about, wasting his money before robbing Peter to pay Paul. Archeron’s debts were numerous and Lucien had heard a rumor he intended to use his daughters to pay them.

Eris had no shortage of brothels, though he typically didn’t prefer well-born ladies walking his halls. They were too stiff, too nervous and worst of all, too mild-mannered. Or, so Eris said, anyway. Lucien stayed away from whores in favor of the drinking and gambling halls. If he was going to waste his money, he’d prefer to see some return.

He was curious, though. Archeron was back out in the gloom, wearing his finest clothes and telling a rather fine story about how beautiful one of his daughters was. She would solve his problems—Lucien could see that gleam in Archeron’s eye.

Elain. A rather innocuous name for a supposed beauty. Still, Archeron had captured the attention of every man he’d spoken to that day. They were going to meet in a gentlemen’s club where he would bring Elain for their inspection, and a bidding war over the girl would commence. Lucien memorized the day and time, though he hadn’t been invited.

He was hardly the first. He’d dressed in his finest clothes, long hair tied off his face as he stepped into the hallowed hall. A haze of smoke hung heavy against the papered green and gold walls and though Lucien had come early, the room was already packed. Everyone wanted to see this woman Archeron promised.

Lucien settled in a chair at the far end of the room, crossing his ankle over his knee. He was offered a glass of whiskey which he accepted, holding the crystal lightly in his fingers. Women were forbidden from places like this, and if Archeron felt comfortable bringing his daughter, he very much doubted she was worth all the trouble. It was far more likely she was a wayward, impossible girl he couldn’t force into marriage with the local beggars and hoped a room of drunk, horny men were desperate enough to take him at his word.

Lucien was bored. He vowed, once this little show went down, he’d return to Eris, explain Archeron’s scheme for paying his debts, and go back to his regular life. Eris would hardly find Archeron’s actions favorable, given his own wife had been sold to him under similar circumstances.

He was on his second drink by the time Archeron stepped into the room. He brought with him not some ugly, thoroughly used woman far past an acceptable, marriageable age.

He brought an angle. Trembling, her thick, golden brown curls tied off a beautiful face in a pretty yellow ribbon. Her dress had very obviously been chosen with care, a lovely amethyst that betrayed Elain very much as a lady.

It was clear she’d been crying. Wide, brown eyes were rimmed red and swollen. Her bottom lip was bright red from been bitten over and over, and at her side, Elain’s fingers were curled to fists.

The whole room was drinking her in, just as he was. Elain was a woman, and yet young enough she could have completed a season and found herself a suitable, appropriate husband. Multiple suitors, even—half the men in the room might have filled her dance card, might have called on her and courted her until they secured her approval and ultimately married her. Someone with a face like Elain’s certainly deserved that small courtesy.

“Did I lie?” Archeron asked, slicing through Lucien’s thoughts. “My daughter Elain is just turned twenty two.”

Lucien, still seated in his chair, kept his gaze on Elain. He wasn’t the only one, certainly, though he was the only one looking at her face and not her body. He’d seen enough. He wanted her to look over at him, willed her to turn her pretty face and find him at the back of the room.

“What, exactly, are you promising?” someone’s voice called. Elain’s eyes closed for a moment, as if she needed a moment to compose herself. Lucien wondered if she’d start screaming and hoped she didn’t.

Every animal in the room would like it far too much.

“That depends,” her father replied. Lucien gripped the edge of the chair he sat in to keep himself from flying out of it. He was only supposed to observe. Elain’s eyes flew open, silently pleading with her father not to do this.

“Why don’t you wait in the hall, Elain?”

It seemed Archeron was going to take pity on his daughter. Elain looked as if she might argue, might beg before she looked around her. He held her attention for only a moment before she turned on her heel, skirt flouncing to all but run out of the room. There were more than a few chuckles and a couple soft wolf whistles as she went.

Elain slammed the door loudly. She was a dutiful daughter—Lucien wondered if she hadn’t offered to help and this was how she’d been repaid.

“How much?” That was Graysen Nolan asking, brown eyes burning with desire.

“For a first night?” her father replied, as though he were negotiating over a particularly fast horse.

“How about a week?” Graysen asked, earning more than a few laughs. “Seems like she’ll need more than a night.”

Lucien was going to kill every man in that room. He stood and Archeron paled, realizing there was a Vanserra hiding in the room. No one else paid Lucien any mind as he made his way through the crowd, uninterested in listening to the bidding war that was about to break out.

They could pay Archeron as much money as they wanted for Elain.

He was going to kill Archeron.

And Elain belonged to him.

ELAIN:

Elain paced just outside, ignoring the men that filtered out as their offers were deemed too paltry, too low. She couldn’t stop trembling, which necessitated the walking.

This is all a dream, she told herself. You’ll wake up in bed, excited to finally start a proper season.

But it wasn’t a dream and she knew it. When she’d gone to him, slipping into his office after her sisters had fallen asleep, Elain had only wanted to help. She’d told him, eyes shining and hands twisting nervously in front of her night dress, that she could help secure an advantageous match. One that might settle his debts with the Vanserras.

And this was what had come of that offer. Not a reputable, respectable marriage.

But whored out, her virginity offered up to the highest bidder. There had been no thought as to what would happen to Elain afterward. Nesta had screamed and raged and Feyre begged and pleaded, but there was no dissuading her father.

Elain half hoped whoever won the night with her killed her when it was over.

She’d never be able to show her face in polite society again. Word would spread—men loved to gossip. They’d tell their friends, bragging about what they did and how they’d ruined her. Their wives would learn and would shun her. And then what? What stopped her father from whoring her out again? For making it a whole business, offering up Nesta and Feyre, too?

Elain had seen the Vanserra brother in the crowd, watching with what she hoped was disgust. He’d pushed out into the street mere moments after she had, walking into the crowded streets without a second look back. Part of her thought she might have better luck running to Eris and hoping he didn’t approve. After all, it was the Vanserra’s her father owed money too. Perhaps money was money, and so long as Eris was paid back, it didn’t matter how he got it.

It kept her in place, making her way back and forth in front of the stone steps. It felt like days, years, before her father finally returned. His pockets seemed heavy and his eyes bright. Elain nearly burst into tears at the sight of his pleasure.

“Who?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body. Would she be made to leave with him that very second?

“Graysen Nolan,” her father replied, obviously pleased. “He’ll collect you tomorrow evening. Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. You said you wanted to help daddy, right? This is helping. Imagine if the Vanserra’s killed me, hm? Who would take care of you and your sisters?”

Elain blinked, and blinked again. Was this taking care of them? Feyre stole food from the market more often than Elain could count and Nesta haggled viciously over the prices of everything in order to keep them in clothes, in shoes.

Was this the part she was required to play? Elain had always been exempt from the cruelty of their life. She’d managed their father, had smoothed out his worst impulses and kept him present when she sometimes thought he wished he wasn’t around.

Elain nodded, her eyes drifting from her father’s pleading eyes to the other side of the square. Standing on the sidewalk in a buttoned up green jacket and a pair of well-tailored white pants, was one of the Vanserra’s. The same from the room—the only man who likely hadn’t placed a bid on her maidenhead. She recognized that vibrant auburn hair, tied back to reveal a face that was somehow both cruel and beautiful.

Crueler, she decided as she held his gaze. Russet eyes cut through the haze, wholly focused on her. Was he angry? Elain couldn’t tell—there was nothing on his face at all. His hand flexed at his side, head cocked and Elain decided to soften her own expression.

Help me.

She screamed it silently, hoping he saw what she was trying to communicate. Forgive his debts. End this, free me.

He didn’t understand. A half smile graced his features, forcing Elain to look back at her father. The Vanserra thought it was funny.

Elain forced herself not to despair. Not when her father pulled out the money Graysen had already paid and ordered her home, declaring she needed to rest. She needed to scream. Elain plodded home, well aware that even if she had convinced the Vanserra’s to forgive her father, Graysen would expect a return on the money he’d advanced. Her father would be spending it even as she made her way down the walk, headed toward the once magnificent estate her family had lived in for generations.

Even if his debts were forgiven, Elain would still be offered up.

It was a depressing, miserable thought that took Elain out of the main city center for the twisting, cracked walkway that led to her crumbling home. Not paying attention, too lost in what Graysen might feel emboldened to do since he’d paid for her, Elain didn’t notice the uneven concrete.

She tripped, and should have fallen face first into the ground. It happened so quickly Elain didn’t have time to throw out her hands.

Her body met something warm—something soft.

“Careful, now,” a masculine voice murmured against the shell of her ear. Elain shivered, twisting in the arms of the Vanserra who’d been mocking her across the street. He righted her and took a step back as if he were a gentleman.

The trio of scars streaked over one of his eyes very much betrayed that this man was no gentleman. Elain almost laughed. He was a criminal, no better than her at that moment given she was little more than a whore. Before, he wouldn’t have dared to speak to her.

“Were you outbid?” she asked, raising her chin haughtily.

A sly smile graced his handsome features. “No.”

She scoffed. “You lost.”

“I left before a price was ever announced,” he replied, confirming her own suspicion.

“Because you lacked the funds,” she shot back. His smile widened.

“I’m starting to think you’re disappointed I didn’t try and purchase you.”

He was right—she did sound upset. What was she doing? Here was a Vanserra, and she was taunting him when she ought to be pleading with him. Elain took a step toward him.

“Your brother could end this.”

“I doubt it,” Vanserra replied darkly. “Your father has already spent the coins you earned in his head. Who won?”

“Graysen Nolan,” she said miserably. He would have been a good choice for a husband, given how young and handsome he was. Instead, Graysen would have the privilege of ruining her and one day picking a respectable wife.

Vanserra yielded a step, brushing his fingers beneath her jaw. “Have you resigned yourself to this?”

Elain shrugged. “If your brother won’t…” she was going to cry. Elain took a gulping breath of air and forced herself to look into those russet eyes. “I said I wanted to help.”

His fingers tightened on her chin, thumb sweeping over her lips. “I think there are more interesting things awaiting you than the life of a whore.”

Elain should have pulled back. “You do?”

Of course he did—he meant to put her in one of his brothels, her mind screamed. Elain shook her head, yanking her face from his grasp. Vanserra didn’t stop her, didn’t respond when she turned on her heel and flounced off. She wasn’t so low yet. He merely chuckled, calling after her, “I’ll see you around princess!”

Elain merely waved him off, not bothering to turn around. He wanted to make fun of her—fine. She didn’t need to stick around for it. Elain needed to figure out what she’d do next. Her reputation was destroyed, her future lost to her. It was almost a freeing thought. She still wanted all the things her mother had once promised to her.

Elain wanted to be a wife. A mother. Someone in charge of a home. Her father had robbed her of that in favor of enriching himself, of solving his problems simply and without any risk to himself.

Elain was grateful her sisters were around when she arrived home. She could picture Nesta’s rage and Feyre’s schemes. What she needed was to rely on herself and her own silence—at least for now. If she was going to escape tomorrow, it would be outside of her sisters.

Though, as Elain slipped into bed, exhausted and sad, she couldn’t quite see how. She hadn’t bothered to light a fire in the once lovely, marble mantle, She’d just shoved the white and pink floral bedding back far enough for her to lay beneath and then, on an afterthought, kicked it all off to undress herself down to her shift. Elain ripped strands of her hair from that stupid ribbon she’d tied, thinking if she looked sweet, the men would take pity on her.

Face buried in a satin pillowcase, Elain screamed until her throat was raw. Screamed until she heard Nesta knocking on the other end, until she heard Feyre’s tentative voice. Elain was grateful she’d locked the door to keep them out. Elain screamed until she had nothing left to cry.

Only then did Elain sleep.

She woke to a soft breeze and something warm against her cheek. Had she left the window open? Elain brushed at whatever touched her.

“Careful,” a familiar voice whispered. Elain started, sitting so quickly she smashed her forehead against Vanserra’s. He was propped just beside her, head resting on his elbow.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, too surprised to be afraid.

But Elain knew exactly what he’d come to do. He hadn’t placed a bet, nor had he tried to free her father from the burden his brother had placed upon him. Vanserra had merely followed her home and had Elain not been so distraught, she might have recognized what he was thinking.

She started to scoot away but he was too quick, his arm clasping around her waist to drag her back to him. Gentle fingers brushed against her cheek and his long hair tickled the exposed column of her throat.

He didn’t respond. His amusement shone even in the dark, prompting her to try again. “What’s your name?”

“Lucien.”

Lucien.

“That’s a nice name,” she murmured, letting him map out her face with gentle fingers.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied, lowering his face until they were mere inches apart.

“Don’t do this,” she breathed, shifting beneath his hold.

“They all want your first night,” Lucien told her, pushing himself up until he was straddling her body. “I want a little more.”

His thighs, still clad in those elegant white pants, squeezed gently around her ribs.

“What do you want?”

A wolfish smile spread over his handsome features. “How about a bet, princess?”

“That’s the sort of thing that got me into this mess,” she breathed, pressing her palms against the tops of his legs. Lucien braced most of his weight on his knees, using little force to keep her pinned to the bed. That didn’t mean Elain wanted to tempt him into more.

“The stakes are far less dire than the ones your father is currently entangled in. I’ll wager you an hour of your time. If I can’t find some way to please you within that hour, I’ll slip right back out and you’ll never see me again.”

Elain’s heart thudded in her throat. She wasn’t certain she wanted that. “And if you can?”

The look on his face told Elain he was confident he would find himself on the winning end of his bet. Lucien dragged a finger over her jaw, lifting her chin to hold her gaze.

“If I do please you, you have to indulge my reasons for climbing up here at dawn, given I’ll have freed you of Graysen Nolan.”

“I’m free either way—”

“Oh, no, pretty princess. One hour to please you. I won’t take your virginity unless you ask me to,” Lucien said with relish. Elain knew her inexperience worked against her, because surely it was the same?

He swung off her, his boots thudding on the wood floors. Elain waited for someone to come rushing up the stairs just as she realized that she didn’t need to agree to this bargain with the devil.

She could just scream.

Lucien seemed to realize her plan at the exact same moment because his finger pressed against his lips, eyes flashing a warning. “I wouldn’t risk it, were I you.”

“Someone would come—”

“I’ve come,” he interrupted, deftly undoing the buttons of his jacket. “You want to be rescued? I’m here.”

“This is hardly a rescue. You’re merely taking what Graysen has already paid for in order to satisfy your absurd, male ego!” she snapped.

He smiled, and oh, she wished he hadn’t. He was so absurdly handsome it caused her heart to take off in a gallop.

“You belong to me,” Lucien said simply, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a fraying, cream colored chair. Elain sat up as Lucien rolled the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbow, trying to make sense of him.

“I belong to no one,” she whispered in response. He looked over, securing his long hair with a leather strap at his wrist.

“We’ll see,” he said, eyes cutting to the clock. “Do we have a deal?”

“I could scream,” she countered. Lucien was still staring at that glass clock on her dresser.

“Tick, tock,” he whispered, tapping his bare wrist. Elain licked her bottom lip. He’d promised not to take her virginity—what could he possibly do that would please her in the span of an hour?

She’d heard the servants talk, and from what she’d gathered, men barely managed it with penetration. She expected he meant to kiss her until she was breathless and dizzy which was how most men got beneath a ladies skirts.

She could hold out for an hour.

She bet he tasted terrible. Like tobacco and whatever food he’d been chewing. He’d been to hurried, too rough and all she had to do was keep her wits about her.

“Fine,” she agreed. “One hour.”

Lucien smiled. “No screaming.”

She nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

He nodded at her. “Take off your shift.”

All her certainly slipped away. “What?”

“Take off your shift,” he repeated softly, tugging the strings of his own shirt. Was he going to get naked, too?

“You said–”

“Just you, princess,” he said with a gentleness that felt wholly at odds with what was happening. “I’m only taking off my shirt.”

“Why do I have to…” she fingered the hem of her shift nervously. No one had ever seen her naked. Was she really about to let a criminal look at her?

Did it even matter?

“Come, now, princess,” he chided, eyes cutting back to the clock. Was he nervous, too? Or just concerned she was wasting time? That, she decided, wasn’t a terrible idea. Elain could drag this out, negotiating until he was irritated and unable to do anything but frustrate her.

“That wasn’t part of our agreement,” Elain reminded him, sitting up on her knees petulantly. “If you want to see me naked, I think you should make another deal.”

Lucien prowled forward. “Oh? And what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want you to free my father of the debt he owes your brother.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open. “You know if I could do that, he’d merely owe Eris the same amount the next month, right? And it certainly won’t keep you from Graysen.”

Elain teased the shift, sliding it up her legs. Lucien stilled, his eyes widening. “What would it take to get both?”

“Both?”

Elain inched just a little higher. “Forgive my fathers debt and make Graysen go away.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to her face. “Are you asking me to kill Nolan—”

“No! Just…make it so this never happened.”

A sly smile told Elain whatever he thought she was asking for would come back to haunt her. “All that, just to see you naked?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Yes?”

“Anytime I like?” he pressed. “In exchange for, what, Elain? Keeping your father from my brother's sword? So you can be someone's wife?”

She swallowed. “Anytime before I’m married.”

“Done,” he agreed.

“You aren’t allowed to interfere,” she added, pointing a finger in his direction. Lucien held up both hands. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She yanked the shift up over her head before she could think better of it. This was what she’d wanted—what she’d hoped for. A way out of the predicament she’d found herself in, all in exchange for an hour of her life. One hour in which he took nothing from her she wasn’t prepared to give, and nothing she couldn’t readily get back.

Lucien didn’t seem to breathe as he took her in, eyes raking over her body like hot coal. Elain kept herself still, too bold for what was happening. It wasn’t real—it didn’t count. That put her enough at ease to ask, “Well?”

“I—fuck, princess,” he breathed. Lucien reached for his own shirt, tossing it to the floor casually before coming to her. Elain had never seen a man without his shirt on before and was just as taken aback as Lucien was, though for vastly different reasons.

If he was trying to please her, she thought the removal of his clothes was a good way to start. He was nice to look at. All sculpted, golden brown muscle carved against his frame. Elain was tempted to reach out and touch the planes of his stomach, to trace the lines flowing into his pants and see where, exactly, they led.

“Lean back,” Lucien murmured, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. He was still looking her up and down, his fingers curled to fists as though he needed some distraction to keep himself from touching her.

Elain did as he said, making herself comfortable among a sea of pillows. Lucien remained at her side, his expression impossible to read.

“Show me how you usually find pleasure.”

A soft, strangled laugh escaped her. “I…”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “Of course not. This is not how I thought this would go.”

“You broke into my bedroom,” Elain snapped, embarrassed as she laid before him utterly naked. “What were you imagining?”

He twisted to look at her, heat blazing in his eyes. “I imagined you pinned beneath me, panting and begging for more.”

Oh. “Don’t count on it.”

Lucien looked toward the clock. “There’s time yet.”

Forty five minutes, if Elain had counted right. She’d managed to waste fifteen minutes of his time and wondered if she could waste fifteen more.

“Well, I think–” Lucien’s mouth covered her own, silencing her with a kiss. Her first true kiss, given the last time she’d been kissed, Elain had been eight and the boy had ended up flat on his back when Nesta saw him. She’d often wondered what it might be like.

Sweet, she decided. His lips were soft and Lucien smelled good, like cinnamon and warm sunlight. He wasn’t hurried, despite the time he’d lost. His fingers ghosted the bottom of her jaw, tilting her face toward him until Elain shifted so he could have better access. So she could press her palm flat against his bare chest and touch the warmth of his skin, the hard muscles shifting beneath her touch.

He wasn’t unaffected. Lucien made a low sound in the back of his throat, which excited her. Elain understood, all at once, what Lucien meant when he said he was allowed an hour to please her. Hearing him moan pleased her—made her warm and wet between her legs. Elain wanted to rub herself against him to alleviate the ache that had begun to thrum in her blood

Lucien’s tongue traced the seam of her mouth, drawing a soft gasp from Elain. He pressed his advantage, deepening the kiss until her fingers were somehow tangled in the hair he’d tied back She knew, in the back of her mind, she ought to be afraid. That Lucien was a man who knew what he was doing and knew how to do it well.

Elain had been wrong about how he’d taste, too. Sweet, spicy—like he’d been drinking liquor before he’d come over and it lingered in the back of his throat. Lucien made another of those soft, appreciative noises when her own tongue joined him, curious what he would be like. Lucien’s softness shifted, edged with his own desire. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and when Elain gasped, Lucien groaned again, sliding the hand on her face down to her neck.

“Okay,” he panted, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

She waited for him to expand on that thought, but it was clear he was saying it to himself.

“Maybe,” she tried, her heart hammering in her ears, “you should have bargained for your own pleasure.”

“I’m betting my patience will pay off,” he said instead, fingers skimming her collarbone. “Let’s focus on you, Elain. You have thirty minutes left.”

She knew he saw the way she rubbed her thighs together. The ache was building into the sweetest pressure. Thirty minutes. That was nothing. That was half as long as a church sermon and

Elain survived those every Sunday.

Lucien dipped his head, grazing his teeth just behind her ear. Elain couldn’t help the way her body arched, or how her fingers curled in his hair.

“I was going to use my fingers,” Lucien whispered, sliding further down her body. He wasn’t over her, but next to her and Elain would have done anything to feel the weight of his body pressed against her. She wanted to be skin to skin, to drag her nails down his back. “But now…”

His breath was hot against her naked breasts.

“Now what?” she asked, unsure whose breathless voice that belonged to.

“Now I need to taste,” he said, his tongue tracing a circle around her peaked nipple. Elain shifted again, eyes rolling up into her head. “Should be no problem for you, right?”

Elain’s fingers fisted in the sheets. She didn’t know what he meant, only that she would fall apart if he stopped. She could ride this all the way to the edge, just past the hour and then take whatever she needed from him without owing him a damn thing.

She’d given enough, besides. Was she not naked before him? Kissing him in her own bed, when that sort of contact was forbidden for unmarried women? Elain didn’t care when his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. Her spine arched and pleasure pooled between her legs, drawing more slick heat. Elain could feel his soft tongue teasing against her most sensitive places somehow, as if the nerves in her body were all connected.

Lucien groaned, his hand making its way down, down, down, until he was between her legs. Elain was surprised to find herself spreading herself wider for him rather than clamping her knees together. His mouth felt so good, sucking and teasing and she could still taste him on her tongue.

She had to admit she wanted this. Wanted to know what he might do, what could exist between two people. Lucien, despite breaking into her bedroom, was taking an incredible amount of care. As if making her feel good was the only thing that interested him, his only reason for being.

Lucien’s finger rubbed between slick folds, earning a moan that was so loud she was certain her sisters would hear.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, pulling back to look at her. Lucien, she realized, seemed wrecked. Wild and somehow ruined, as if she’d done something he hadn’t accounted for—hadn’t expected. “Are you always this wet for me, princess?”

“I—” She meant to tell him she never thought of him because she didn’t know who he was, but Lucien’s fingers drew a lazy circle around her clit and Elain could only whine, arching her hips into his hand for more, more, more.

Lucien didn’t wait for her to figure out what she wanted to say. His mouth was back on her neglected nipple, his fingers teasing her softly, with just barely enough pressure to alleviate the ache. Elain was trying to get him to touch harder, to speed up, but Lucien was infuriating. Still, she rolled her hips into his hand.

Lucien pulled back again with a gasp, trailing kisses down her stomach. She watched his turn his head, the muscles of his bare back bunching with tension. He was looking at the clock—was he worried for time?

“Fifteen minutes,” he breathed, spreading her legs wider. “Just fifteen more minutes, princess.”

“Easy,” she liked, because the sight of his face so close to her cunt was unraveling her. Lucien’s fingers were spreading her wide open, as if he wanted to memorize this moment.

“Holy gods, Elain,” he murmured, dropping his head to her thigh. His whole body jerked, hips pressing into the mattress. Elain raked her fingers through his hair, pulling the remnants from that useless strap. She wanted to watch it cascade over his muscular shoulders like a molten waterfall, wanted to pull and yank until he was just as needy and desperate as she was.

Lucien kissed her skin and then licked up the center of her. He had to put a hand on her stomach to keep her on the bed before hooking her knees over his shoulders so he could have her the way he wanted.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, pressing her palm to her mouth. Elain, who up until that point, had felt nothing but a needy ache, was suddenly burning. Lucien knew it, too. His eyes were on her face, watching her every expression to gauge how she felt.

His tongue traced up and down her cunt, mapping her out without touching her the way she wanted. Elain writhed, shifting her body to try and put him where she needed him. Lucien merely chuckled. “In a rush? We still have time.”

Though, Lucien did use the flat of his tongue to rub her clit. Elain moaned into her hand, using her free one to pull at his hair.

“Take what you need, princess,” Lucien grunted into her body, his tongue still far too polite. “Use me.”

Elain rolled her hips into his face, grinding against him until she wasn’t convinced he could breathe. Lucien groaned, his tongue working her in time with her own desperate movement. When he pleased her, Elain yanked at his hair and moaned as loud as she dared and when he backed off, Elain went utterly still. She’d discovered Lucien couldn’t abide by the lack of movement, by the silence.

She was building into something desperate and bright and hot. Every inch of her was alive, strung together by some ancient light demanding she give in, that she take everything he was offering and whatever else she could get. Elain was flame, was so excited she’d forgotten what was at stake.

Or maybe she just didn’t care because Lucien had suddenly sped up, was working her with enough pressure and touch that Elain was unraveling.

“Lucien,” she panted, begging for a release. “Lucien, please.”

“One minute,” he whispered, sucking her clit between soft lips. Elain should have stopped him right there, but his lips and his tongue and then that press of his finger just against the opening of her body was too much. Pleasure all collided in her chest and Elain bowed off the bed, fracturing into a million brilliant shards of glass. Lucien didn’t stop, kept licking and sucking as he slid his finger into her body and began working her with that, too.

Elain didn’t want him to. She’d forgotten what they were doing or why he was there. She reacted to that first thrust with a soft whine, convulsing in waves. She was too sensitive and still unsatisfied. She needed more—needed him.

“Lucien,” she whispered into the dark, tugging at his hair. What was she asking him for? Only then did Lucien look up, his mouth gleaming with arousal. He pounced, finally pressing himself against her for a messy, desperate kiss. Elain wrapped her legs around his hips, hands sliding down his chest for the clasps on his pants.

“Elain,” he warned, and oh, she loved how he said her name. “You’re five minutes past the hour.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, undoing them with one hand. Lucien groaned, kissing her again and again, his tongue still coated in her arousal. She was delighted by the taste of her own body, by the sweetness, the musky way it mingled with his own scent until she was delirious and desperate.

Lucien groaned against her throat when she reached into his pants and cupped him in her palm. Elain gasped, looking between their bodies, but she couldn’t see. Couldn’t the long, thick length of him though she desperately wanted to. Elain pumped once and Lucien exhaled a near whimpering pant. That was enough.

They weren’t done.

“Lay back,” she said, her voice too small to be truly authoritative and still Lucien did exactly as she commanded. Elain was so nervous, kneeling beside him on her own bed, unsure what she was supposed to do.

He knew it. Lucien pulled his own pants off his body, freeing himself from the last remnants of his clothing. His cock sprang free, bobbing against a thin trail of auburn hair just beneath his navel. Elain reached for it as Lucien’s hands slid beneath her ass, perching her just against his thighs.

“The sight of you,” he breathed, fingers rubbing circles over the dips in her hips. “Fuck, Elain, it makes me…”

She pumped his cock and Lucien arched, eyes rolling upward in his head. This man was dangerous, had climbed into her bedroom window after speaking to her only once. Maybe it was naive to think he wouldn’t hurt her—but Elain knew he wouldn’t.

She pumped again, rocking her hips in time. A ragged breath escaped him, his fingers digging into the cheeks of her ass, spreading and pushing her together over and over. He was inching her up his body until his cock was flat against him and he was rocking her still slick cunt over the skin of his erection. Lucien panted, and though he’d said otherwise, she realized it was him writhing and begging beneath her.

The blunt head of his cock pressed into her opening, teasing as Elain became more frantic. She was building up again, grinding against him. Lucien didn’t stop her, his hands guiding her—to use him, just as he’d asked her to before.

“That’s it,” he breathed. Elains hands were planted against the broad plains of his chest, nails digging viciously into his skin. “Come for me, princess. Make a mess of me.”

Elain couldn’t stop. Lucien flipped her to her back the second release slammed into her, swallowing the sounds to keep her from waking the house.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispered against her ear, and Elain, still pulled tight from that second orgasm, could only nod.

Lucien slid himself an inch into her body, groaning when he realized how tightly her body was clenched—desperate, she realized, for something to hold on to. There was pain, though it was slight and mostly from the stretch of accommodating him. Lucien went slow, pushing himself inch by inch for what felt like forever. His hand shook from the effort while a bead of sweat slipped from his forehead.

Only when he was fully seated within her did Lucien relax. Elain squeezed tight, strangely light despite this invasion. They were sharing breath, sharing a body.

“More,” she whispered.

He smiled, kissing her. Lucien pulled himself back out, the loss unforgivable. Elain arched in an attempt to invite him back in, but it wasn’t necessary. Lucien thrust and they both moaned. This—this is what she’d wanted. What had been missing.

“Elain,” he breathed, his teeth grazing her earlobe.

She’d failed—and now she owed him something at dawn. Whatever it was, Elain didn’t care. This was hers, something she’d taken for herself because she wanted it and not because someone was making her do it.

Elain dragged her nails down his back, delighting in how he moaned softly, how his mouth found hers for a kiss that didn’t seem to end.

She’d promised him access to her naked body until she was married—right then, as Elain was cresting back up, she thought she’d made a rather good bargain.

“I didn’t tell you,” Lucien breathed as Elain ran her fingers up and down his spine. “I didn’t tell you what I came here for.”

“You came for this,” she panted, not caring about his reasons. Elain was so close, was practically there. Lucien, too, if the erratic pace he was losing himself in was anything to go by. He’d been close from the start and Elain was dying to see him lose his composure.

“I came for you,” he replied before pressing a sucking kiss at the base of her throat. Elain came again—release barreling into her with more force than she’d expected. She clamped around him tight, drawing his own orgasm out of him whether he was ready to go or not.

Lucien came inside her, pushing himself as deep as he could get. Elain held him against her, her heart pounding against his chest. There was nothing but the sound of their shared breath and the silence of the world around them.

Elain felt light.

She felt free.

Lucien was still buried inside her. “I’ll pay for this,” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t withdraw, though he did rise up on his elbows to look at her. “I came tonight for you.”

She smiled. “Yes, you’ve said this. You had me. Are you not pleased?”

He looked between their joined bodies, and the undeniable proof of what had happened between them. “I never intended to leave without you, Elain.”

Elain looked up at him. “What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?”

Something hard settled against his lovely features. He’d hoped she’d say something else—something different.

“My cock is buried in your cunt, for one,” he replied, flexing so she could feel him. Elain knew she ought to shove him off her. She didn’t.

“What did you expect, Lucien?”

“That you’d let me fuck you,” he murmured, which was a fair assumption she supposed. “And afterward, you’d realize the future you want is with me.”

“I want to be…married…” Elain trailed off, looking up at him. “Lucien. Lucien.”

He kissed her, soft and slow. “That’s exactly right,” he murmured, cupping her face as the reality of what he wanted settled against her. She felt a cascade of things—horror, fear…relief. If she married him, she spared her whole family from her ruined reputation. Graysen would have no claim on her.

“In the morning,” he said, twisting to look at the open window. “You’ll leave with me and we’ll be wed before anyone can intervene. Eris will absolve your father of what he owes—and leave him be, so long as he does not rack up more debt—and Graysen will withdraw his claim to my wife.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I’ll kill him,” Lucien said simply. “I could kill him for the insult, given I intend to tell everyone I have been courting you like a lady for months, and had secured your approval before your father ever offered you up. I…ah…I hope it preserves some of your reputation.”

Elain wanted to cry. “It won’t,” she whispered, though she wrapped her arms around his neck all the same. “You’re a criminal.”

“A criminal with money,” he reminded her. “With status. The Vanserra name is still worth something.”

“And if I say no?” Elain asked, just to know how far Lucien was willing to go.

He swallowed. “I’m still in your body, princess. You’re mine.”

All Lucien had to do was say he’d had her first. He could ruin her just as easily as her father had, could dig her grave so deeply Elain spent the rest of her life buried beneath the ground, unable to leave the house. Lucien was offering her an out and the life she’d wanted, was freeing her from the promises her father had made that day in the gentlemen's club.

“Okay,” she whispered, well aware she had no choice.

And still, Lucien smiled as if he were getting everything he ever wanted.

#can you believe it took me FOUR DAYS to get to elucien #who is she?#i know i said this would have two parts but hear me out #what if it didnt?#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #someone tell me my moodboard is funny #elain x lucien

160 notes · View notes

queercontrarian · 2 years ago

Text

i’m sorry

“You cannot expect the Spring Court to keep groveling at your feet for the rest of eternity,” Yllka scoffed, staring down each High Lord individually, glaring especially hard at the factions of the Solar Courts, “Why do we still have to beg forgiveness for sins we have not committed and hope for your goodwill when people in the Seasons are dying?” The desperation in his second’s voice had Tamlin’s fists clench helplessly. He hated these meetings, and he hated the role his Court was forced into when they had been fighting so hard to rebuild. It was Rhysand who finally spoke up.

“Honestly, begging for forgiveness is the least you could do. The Mother knows your High Lord still owes us quite a few apologies,” the male drawled, his voice cold and even. He didn’t think anyone else except maybe Feyre or his brothers could hear the barely repressed anger, the wound as fresh and painful as ever just below the surface. It might have been useful to be able to read a rival so reliably, but mostly it just hurt. Not quite strangers, not quite enemies. Oh, he knew exactly what the male was referring to. Nearly four centuries had passed since the murder of their families, but every time they found themselves near each other it felt like it happened yesterday. History that could never heal, no matter how much time passed. Rhysand would forever punish his people for Tamlin’s mistakes and he was so over it, he was so tired. Too tired to care anymore despite still caring way too much. Yllka, Eallair and all the others could work as hard as they wanted, he could remove himself as much from the Spring Court as he wanted to, Rhysand wouldn’t get over his hatred for Tamlin enough to not spite innocent Spring fae, to separate him from his folk, from his friends, his officials, even Lucien who hadn’t visited him without an order from Night to do so in years. He could feel the anger and disappointment well up in him, the urge to smack some sense into the other male, or even just smack him for the sake of it. To get Tamlin to lose his composure would be exactly what Rhysand wanted. And unfortunately, in this moment it was exactly what Tamlin wanted too.

“Oh, well if it’s an apology you’re after,” he snarled, stepping in front of Yllka “Have your apology: I’m sorry you ever approached me in the first place.” Cassian and Azriel rose at the same time Rhysand did when he made another step into the circle of fae, towards the other High Lord. It was barely a threat, not under Thesan’s roof. The magic prevented any real fighting to occur and would put any who sought to do physical harm down quickly. Rhysand, knowing this too, bid his brothers to stand down.

“I’m sorry you continued to pursue me despite everyone telling you it was a terrible idea. I’m sorry our fathers were the worst males to ever walk this cursed continent and I’m sorry we dared to become friends anyway. I’m sorry for understanding you, I’m sorry for wanting to keep you around. I’m sorry you believe only what you want to believe.” Tamlin saw Lucien move in from the side, but he couldn’t stop himself from stalking towards the Night Court seats, pulled by the same invisible thread that had Rhysand moving to him. “I’m sorry you made choices you regret and I’m sorry other people paid the price for our actions. I’m sorry I didn’t run fast enough. I’m sorry my brothers found me and dragged me back to Harthforst gagged and bound.” His voice hitched, his claws rapidly breaking out and retracting at the memory he’d tried so hard to repress. Rhysand just stood, mere feet away from him, and stared, unable or unwilling to say anything. All the better, since Tamlin couldn’t stop himself from continuing, and if he was getting louder, if everyone in Dawn heard, if by the next day all of Prythian knew his pathetic story, well his image had been ruined for a long time anyway. “I’m sorry my father chained me up in his cursed cellar, torturing me for days, and I’m sorry I held out until my mother came back. I’m sorry she was so selfish to not want her son to die at the hands of his father, I’m sorry she told my father everything I knew. I’m sorry I followed them to Illyria as soon as I could stand, I’m sorry for tracking them down, I’m sorry for killing your sister before my brothers could do worse to her than just take her wings.” His gaze was clear, glued to his face, and for a moment it felt like it was only them in the room. “I’m sorry I left my dagger behind for you to find, so you’d know who did it. I’m sorry for getting locked in my room because I wouldn’t stop screaming until I couldn’t anymore. I’m sorry you didn’t kill me when you had the chance.” Tamlin leant in closer, their noses nearly touching, green and violet eyes locking when he whispered “I’m sorry I loved you and I’m sorry you loved me back.”

#tamsand #i felt like writing some angry tamtam #this was fun #tamlin #rhysand #honestly this can be read as platonic or romantic entanglement #what even happened #no one knows because sarah janet was vague as fuck about it #tamlin: now you know dAMN WELL #narrator: rhysand did not in fact know damn well

63 notes · View notes

fallingdowntherathole · 7 months ago

Text

"Oh, so now I'm a child? A little creature to be cradled?!" Auburn hair falling in her eyes, a pout akin to a child on her young face.Arya huffed, lips curling into a tight frown as she locked eyes with the spectral man in front of her. Of course he will think that of her, even now, as she's finally entering adulthood. She's still a child, his child, in his eyes.

"Arianna, please." A pause, as the ghost contemplates what is the best course of action. Amusing her behaviour will only enrich it further, probably spiralling into a neverending back and forth between this and that. Ah, the teenage years, he was once one, the same rebellious and restless energy; he even dealt with two other teens back when he was alive. No, thinking about them will only make this harder. He needs to focus on her now."Every time... Every time you go out to help one of these people, you get hurt. If I didn't know any better -" He stops, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips, an unsaid joke between them "I do say you are dancing with Death"

She barks a laugh at that, between a priceless joke and a cruel reality. A bittersweet sound echoing in the dark."Oh, but I am! I have been dancing with Death since the day I was born! Do you not remember? Even now, here, all we do is dance at the edge of the abyss."

He smiles for a second, then a deep worried frown appears, dark features mirroring his emotions. Even after his downfall, without a body, his spectral form still holds everything he ever was before. A man. A weapon. A friend. A father. He failed once, he will not fail again. He will not fail his friend. He will not fail her.

"How many times have you been to die in the past years?"

"Only three times."

"And how many times-"

"No. None of that, Lucien. Every time I went to die, I had a reason for it. You made your point clear, in the past, that I'm only a burden, a promise made a long time ago, an oath. Dead words on dead man's lips!" She's angry now. Anyone can tell. Her voice quiver, her hands tremble. A deep thunder in her voice, accentuating her hurt. The thu'um is a powerful weapon, one she does not use often enough. But now, here, in the tiny room of the sacred crypt, she can use it as she pleases. No one to hurt. No one to scare away. He is not scared of her, but still, he flinches. And anger too, is a powerful weapon, he knows that as well. "You keep saying that all you want is to protect me, to keep me safe, but damn if you do a good job at it! You throw insults at my face, keep saying I know nothing! But I do, and I do know very well that I don't need to listen to you, for that you are not my father!"

Silence. Deafening silence. The irony would be funny, if it wasn't tragic. His face is now a void of emotions, only his eyes glimmer with regret. Fear, desolation, shame. He's not good at this, never was. After the purification 200 years ago, after...after the death of the twins... he's not the same man. He's fragile, scared, on the edge of nothingness. He knew that when he made the promise to the king, he knew that when he first held her in his arms. He even knew that when he named her. But he couldn't refuse. He didn't want to. He swore, more to himself than to Martin, to be real, that he will protect her with everything in his power, and now, back from the death, he still holds to that promise. But he's bad at this. He doesn't mean to sound harsh, he doesn't mean to sound angry, he doesn't want to say the things he does. He realized, with an unspeakable feeling of dread, that he wasn't meant to protect. He was meant to kill. As he killed his victims when he was human, as he killed countless of people even. As he killed his friends, his family. His family. Plugged the knife in their heart, a quick death, a merciful act. For them more than for him, because there was nothing merciful going on in his soul at the time, and even now, he still feels that pain, the agony and the regret for his actions. All he has done, for nothing.And now he's killing her heart too, her soul, her hopes. More than ever, he believes, he found out what scares him the most about the dragonborn: Arya is more of his daughter than she ever was to Martin.

The lack of response from him is all that she needs to storm off. She doesn't look at him as she goes, she can't look at him. Because she believes she's right, and that alone is more crushing than any words he can muster to tell her. Off she goes, out of the room, down the corridor, opens the heavy black door and disappears into the bleaching white light of the snow. Echoes of her presence linger in the room, akin to electricity beams after the lightning strike. The only sound left in the dark sanctuary is the quiet dripping of water coming from somewhere around the dining room. A leak. Someone will have to fix that later, but not Lucien, for he has other things to do. Priorities over anything else, he used to say, and Arya is his priority. Now, that everyone else is gone, she remains. This fact alone is more than enough for him to get going. So after an eternity of seconds, he follows her out of the sanctuary, hiding in her shadow. Despite everything, despite his failures, he is still going to protect her.

Anyways, my laptop keeps crashing on me and I got bored, so here is a little WIP that may or may not be included in the fic I'm working on. Regardless, this was such a fun prompt to write! Can you tell I like to write angst? :))

But I digress, @bougainvillea-and-saltwater I humbly present you the creation that my writer block has to offer about Arya👉👈

Prompt #1073

Sometimes guardian angels don’t have a lovely singing voice and a set of fluffy wings, sometimes they have a deep frown on their face and a very bad attitude.

#writing ideas #creative writing #skyrim oc #wip #story wip #tes the dark brotherhood #what do you meant the septims were normal #they were all unhinged #including my oc Arya #lucien lachance #lucien being a father figure #again #you made me want to write :))#THANK YOU #my ocs #my writing

2K notes · View notes

unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years ago

Note

please please please cassian's reaction when nesta eventually finds someone (ERIS) who LOVES her in private and public as a continuation of the all too well prompt 🤍🤍🤍

Part 2 of THIS drabble

Oh FUCK me. I’ve had a few people ask for a second part to this but… yeah. This prompt sparked creative joy.

Nesta smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes, and it didn’t light up her entire face, but it was soft and genuine and public. It was real, that Cassian knew with certainty. Nesta didn’t know how to fake smile. Had never been interested in learning.

When he first heard that Nesta was attending Lucien and Elain’s engagement party with Lucien’s recently un-estranged half brother, he had thought it was a ploy. Some joke she and Elain had come up with to shock him into action. And it would have worked. Cassian knew what a coward he had been.

He would regret, until the day he died, not pulling Nesta tighter against him and swearing on every god he could think of that she was everything. Everything he had ever wanted. Everything he could ever want. Everything his skin and bones and very fucking soul screamed out for.

Cassian had realized, too late, that he would burn every other relationship in his life to dust if it meant he could still see Nesta. Still worship the holy chapel of her thighs, still taste the blessed nectar of her lips, still sit, stunned, in the enlightening mist of every brilliant thought that eddied though her brain and out of her mouth.

“It’s nice to see you,” Cassian said carefully, casually. Trying to ignore the way this other man tightened his pale hand on Nesta’s waist. The way Nesta rested her own palm over his. Gently reassuring.

“You too.” Now, Nesta tried to fake smile. A strange little grimace that sent the man at her side suddenly glaring at Cassian.

He knew her well enough to know her tells, then.

“This is Eris,” Nesta’s voice lighted slightly on his name. “Eris, this is Cassian. Feyre’s husband’s brother.”

Cassian had never been good at hiding his expressions, so he could only imagine what that statement had spreading across his face. The shock he felt experiencing the levels of distance she managed to put between herself and him with a single sentence.

Feyre’s. Husband’s. Brother.

It wasn’t like Cassian expected her to scream, this is Cassian. Best sex of my life. For sure my soulmate except he was a collosal idiot and lost the best thing he ever had. But she could've at least called him a friend. An acquaintance. Something that claimed him rather that sluffing him off on her sister.

“Good to meet you.” The other man’s confident voice and offered hand gave nothing away, but his eyes… the most unnerving shade of amber, tracked Cassian.

Both gripped the other’s palm too tightly.

“Sister picture!” Elain trilled, pulling on Nesta’s arm. Feyre was standing casually to Elain’s right, face fixed in a neutral smirk that seemed to tell Cassian, you made this mess. Fix it. Nesta looked up at Eris for help. His hand on her waist remained, but he smiled encouragingly at her.

Cassian hated the man then. Hated him for the way Nesta looked at him. The way she never let herself look at him, because he never gave her enough of himself.

“I’ll be here,” Eris smiled, slightly slimy and far too overconfident, but… Cassian couldn’t deny the softness in the otherwise hard man’s eyes when he looked at Nesta.

Nesta, who held his gaze for a moment before nodding and slipping off with her sisters to where the large photobooth was set up.

“You’ll never get her back.” Eris said casually, the second Nesta was out of ear shot.

“Excuse me?” Cassian puffed out his chest.

“Nesta,” Eris’s hands slid into the pockets of his perfectly tailored, designer, slacks. “You want her back, obviously. Who wouldn't. You won’t get her.”

“And what would you know about-”

“I know,” Eris drawled, “that now I have her, I will never, ever, do anything stupid enough to lose her. You know I should really thank you.” Cassian glared. “Her standards are remarkably low, thanks to you. Just treating her like a person basically has her wrapped around my finger.”

Cassian growled. “You’re a fucking prick, you know that?” Eris shrugged. His casual arrogance set Cassian spitting. “You could live a thousand years and never fucking deserve her,” Cassian’s fists curled up tight.

“Careful, Rocky. I don’t’ think Nesta is into public display’s of violence.” Eris smirked, “And since a physical fight is probably the only arena in which you could best me…”

“I’ll never let Nesta end up with someone like you,” Cassian straightened, more resolved than angry.

“Because you are so much better?” Eris scoffed, eyes drifting across the room. Fixed entirely on Nesta. Heat and purpose set so obviously into everything about him.

“I don’t care if she never talks to me again.” Cassian set his jaw. “She deserves better than both of us.”

“Hmm,” Eris sighed as Nesta untangled herself from Elain and Feyre, making her way back to them both. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m not stupid enough to let her realize that. Unlike you.”

Eris’ hand slipped into Nesta’s like it belonged there. “You look like you need a drink, dove.”

Nesta let out a breath of relief, more excited, Cassian knew, about the promise of no new social interaction, than the alcohol.

Eris nodded irreverently. “See you around, Calvin.”

Cassian went still. Nesta said nothing, only walked off, hand in hand with this man who lowered his lips to whisper in her ear and slipped a glass of merlot into her hand.

And it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that he knew her body like the back of his hand, that her pleasure was a symphony in his ears every night.

It didn’t matter what Cassian could do to Nesta in private, because this new man, Eris, held her hand and smiled at her in public. In front of everyone.

#nessian #neris #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #nesta and cassian #eris vanserra #acofas #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

267 notes · View notes

eponymous-rose · 4 years ago

Text

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.”

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

673 notes · View notes

wisteriabookss · 4 years ago

Text

An Extensive Analysis of Eris

The recent excerpt from ACOSF has got this fandom spinning on it’s head because it includes a feral-smiling Eris waltzing with Nesta. As a result, people have now delved deeper into his character and whether or not he deserves a redemption arc (or an arc of any kind).

So naturally, he has been compared to Rhys, because Rhys also appeared to us in the beginning as a cruel, cunning person, who was eventually revealed to have a bigger heart, and a valid excuse (at least amongst the IC) for his behavior.

I made this post to mainly catalogue all that Eris has done, analyze his actions, see if he indeed can be compared to Rhys, and to determine whether or not he should have a redemption arc.

What We Know So Far

Our first mention of Eris is in ACOMAF, when Rhysand is explaining to Feyre what happened to Mor. I could put the quotes here, but just to save some time I’m gonna make a long story short.

Mor’s father, Keir, declared that she was to be sold in marriage to Eris. Eris is known for being cruel, and Mor begged Rhys to stop it. Rhys brought her to the Illyrian camp for a few days, and she decided to sleep with Cassian in order to ruin her “pure” image. Because she slept with Cassian, Eris refused to marry her. Said, “she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow.” Her family, although it’s not said explicitly, basically beat her, and then dumped her body on the Autumn court border with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem now. Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods.

Now, we’re going to look at what he exactly said during this event, given to us from Mor’s POV in ACOFAS:

“Don’t touch her.” Those steps stopped. It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.

“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.”

Cold, unfeeling words. “But—but they nailed a—”

“No one touches her.”

A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

Eris took a step away. Someone behind him blurted, “We can’t just leave her to—”

“We can, and we will,” Eris said simply, his pace unfaltering as he strode away.

“She chose to sully herself; her family chose to deal with her like garbage. I have already told them my decision in this matter.” A long pause, crueler than the rest. “And I am not in the habit of fucking Illyrian leftovers.”

Now that we have Mor’s side of the story, we’re going to look at what Eris has said about that fateful day during a discussion with the IC in ACOWAR:

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

. . . .

A frown at Mor as he drained his wine and set down the goblet. “I’m surprised you still can’t control yourself around him. You had every emotion written right on that pretty face of yours.”

“Watch it,” Azriel warned.

Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

A main takeaway from this is that there seems to be much more to story of what happened between Eris and Mor.

Does that mean him leaving her in the woods is excusable? No. Absolutely not. He didn’t try to take the nail out of her (which would’ve been the bare minimum), he didn’t alert Rhys that she was there, he didn’t do anything to help her. He started to make the situation even more traumatic by saying vile things to her. Whatever reason he gives for not helping her will be just that: a reason. But not an excuse. Those are two very different things.

Eris say’s that leaving her there is one of the few things he regrets. There’s something in that. I’m not saying under any circumstance that he should be forgiven because he feels guilty, thats stupid as hell, but it is showing that he’s not some apathetic, other-worldy evil person. There’s some semblance of a conscious in him.

He also say’s that one day he’ll tell them why he did it and what it cost him. By what it cost him, I’m guessing he’s talking about the cost of ending his betrothal to Mor, because I can’t think of what he lost by leaving her there.

I don’t think there’s been any mention of someone getting revenge on Eris because A.) Rhys told Feyre that, “Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.” and B) her family was obviously going to do nothing cause they’re the ones who hurt her.

I’m not going to try and theorize what cost Eris had to pay. It obviously is something (or someone) important to him.

But to me, one of the biggest things we got from this discussion is that it seems Eris knows Mor is gay. That secret smile of his that had Mor shrinking, the way he says he knows why she slept with Cassian, and that he gave Mor her freedom by ending the betrothal without giving a reason . . . he knows.

He knew she was gay, so he ended their engagement, no questions asked. And then Mor was dumped in his woods, and he did nothing to help.

Morally grey, indeed.

(P.S. To the person that posted something along the lines of, “I can’t wait to see Mor’s face when she see’s Eris dancing with Nesta,” . . . get help)

Another excerpt I wanna look at also happens during the recent discussion we’ve just seen, but it has to do with Feyre and Lucien.

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

That little hesitation before he says ‘brothers’. . . sus. That’s all imma say. (maybe there’s more than one illegitimate son in that family . . .)

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?”

Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

Silence.

“Indulge me,” was all I said.

Eris stared me down. I stared right back.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there— when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”

Where two of Eris’s brothers had been killed. By Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket. “Not all of us were so lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

We see another semblance of conscious here when Eris refuses to take part in the slaughtering of Jesminda. To even be in the same room as it. He then made sure that Lucien wasn’t going to die by making sure Tamlin was at his border.

I’m not putting these quotes here to say, “Look, he cares about stuff , so let’s excuse everything he’s done.” No. There is no excusing any of his actions. Just like we can’t excuse Rhysand’s behavior in the first two books, or Cassian’s, or Nesta’s, or even Feyre’s, etc. But what we can do is see the reasons for their actions, and try and understand why they acted the way they did. They have their reasons, and Eris has his. (P.S. I’m not trying to compare what they’ve done, I’m just noting that they all had reasons to do what they’ve done, and they all deserve to be heard out.)

Comparison To Rhys

As I said earlier, Eris has drawn a lot of comparisons to Rhys. I agree with most of them.

This fandom has catalogued all of Rhys’s questionable actions like . . .

*TRIGGER WARNING: words like sexually assaulted*

Rhys sexually assaulting Feyre three times in the first book by drugging her, and then compelling her to give him lap dances in front of the folks Under The Mountain. He then displayed Feyre again in a sexual manner in the second book in front of The Court of Nightmares as, and I quote, “The High Lords Whore.”

In both situations he could’ve done things so much differently. In the first book, he could’ve just, oh I don’t know, kept her in her cell? Or maybe brought her upstairs as a normal person?

And in the second one she literally could have been ANYTHING else. Everyone thinks she’s his prisoner, so why didn’t they go with that? Why couldn’t he have just dressed her in some raggedy-ass clothing, messed up her hair, and then tell her to act super stoic or frightened? Really Rhys, she just had to be your whore? (I know it was consensual but that doesn’t make her persona okay. He could’ve picked literally anything else)

Did he have his reasons for doing this? Yes. Does his reasons excuse what he did? No. You don’t have to make everyone else around you act a part just because you do.

So while we may not excuse Rhys’s actions, we can understand his reasons even if we don’t agree with them. Same with Eris. We know Eris has his reasons, and I doubt we’ll all agree with them, but he still has them.

Let’s also not forget that Rhysand made a deal with Eris and Keir that he would support Eris’s claim to the Autumn Court throne when Eris decides to kill his father for it. He also allowed Keir and his court to come into Velaris, and even though they’ll be turned away by every vendor, he still allowed them in. While he had his reasons for doing this (the Darkling army for ACOWAR) he still did it. It still hurt Mor.

Redemption Arc

My biggest hesitation in thinking Eris will get a redemption arc is wondering where it would fit in the books for him to have one. We don’t know how if his waltz with Nesta is just a one-time thing or if it’s a result of a friendship between the two. The second book is supposed to be centered around Elain, Azriel, and Lucien, so that could also be a spot where he get’s an arc, maybe through a relationship with Lucian or Azriel.

Either way, I’m not gonna bring down the hammer and say that he shouldn’t get a redemption arc. Tbh, the term ‘redemption arc’ kinda annoys me because it shouldn’t be about redeeming what was done in the past, but more about learning from past mistakes and taking the initiative to grow into a better person. That’s what I want for Eris. He’s not going to magically be revealed to be this super sweet fun-loving guy like Rhys. I don’t want him to be revealed like that either.

I just want to see more of his character, see why he is the way he is, and, like i’ve said a million times in this post, know his reasons for acting the way he does.

One last thing before I go. I’m not interested in seeing any relationship blossom between Eris and the IC, or Nesta, and I think it’s unlikely anyways. There’s a possibility for them to have an understanding, sure, but no friendship. I know there are some people who automatically adore Eris because they hate Mor and that’s just stupid. Mor isn’t my fav either, but I won’t cheer Eris on just because he hurt her.

That’s all I’ve got. If you’ve made it this far, I appreciate you. Really.

435 notes · View notes

kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

Text

Cassian's Love: words from a guy who speaks through actions

Something I love about Cassian is that he doesn't really hide the ball when it comes to his feelings for Nesta. He's most definitely an actions speak louder than words person (physical touch is his love language), but he does use words in ACOSF. I read someone say that Cassian didn't show his love for Nesta, and I completely disagree. Even though SJM never showed us Cassian saying the actual words, we see it so often through the small touches like flicking her cheek, the way that he never makes fun of her (many) questions, or the way he's always there, but he never pushes her too far.

In ACOWAR he confesses his love

" I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world -- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise. "

Yes, there is a lot he doesn't say - that they are mates, that he wants more than just sex, that he loves her. He even goes far enough to attack Lanthys to prevent him from revealing the truth. (I can write a whole post on why he wouldn't tell her about being mates, but I think Nesta's reaction to Lucien's declaration at the end of ACOMAF can suffice as explanation).

After his heartbreaking confession in ACOWAR, it makes sense that he's more reserved with Nesta. When thinking about his almost confession on solstice, he even says, "He hardly managed to walk away with some semblance of pride. Over his cold, dead body would she do that to him again." He is protecting himself by ignoring the mating bond too ("Some small quiet part of his brain whispered otherwise. He ignored it. Had ignored it for a long time now.")

Still throughout the book, he owns up to his feelings for Nesta when given the opportunity -- he just doesn't say the words "I love you" or "You're my mate". This post goes through some scenes in chronological order, since they show how Cassian does care.

(I could write another whole post on how I feel cheated of two months of happy Nessian between Solstice and Starfall, but that's what fanfiction is for, right?).

When Mor asks if it pains him to see Nesta like this, he says:

"All of it pains me... It pains me that Nesta has become... this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other's throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too. It pains me that ..."

When he's pleading her to train, she asks him why he isn't negotiating harder, he says.

"For you, I have no strategies."

Then there's the confrontation before, "I'm always thinking of that look on your face". (Yes, he's goading her here, but I don't think he's lying)

"Why so many questions tonight?" // "Because we're talking like normal people, and I want to know. About all of it." // "Let's nor retread old territory, Nes." // "It never mattered to me whether you took half the Cauldron's power or a drop. It still doesn't matter. // "Why?" "Why do you even bother?" // "Why did you stay at my side when we went up against the King of Hybern during the last battle?"

Answer: because they're mates.

After Nesta fights with Elain, he tells her he'll be there for her.

"Whatever you need to throw at me, I can take it. I won't break." No challenge laced the words. Only a plea. // "You don't understand," she said, voice rasping. "I am not like you and the others." // "That's never bothered me one bit." (emphasis added)

When Rhys gives Nesta a mental warning about Gwyn:

"I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her."

When they are discussing the Dread Trove and pushing Nesta to scry: Yes Cassian for arguing against only protecting Elain

" There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that should not be exposed to." // "But Nesta should?" Cassian growled.

"It's not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying." "There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy" "You're a fool if you think threats will make her obey you." ... "If we manipulate Nesta into scrying, even by using Elain against her, then we'll do what is necessary." "I don't like it."

After Nesta's nightmare:

"Hey." "Hello" "Are you all right?" "Yes." "Good" "You want to talk about it?" "No" "That's fine." "You want breakfast?" "I like your priorities, General." (italics added)

When Rhys and Feyre mention bringing in Helion:

"He'll help...If only for another shot at her." // Nesta rolled her eyes, and and the gesture was so normal that Cassian's smile became more genuine, edged with relief // You wear your heart for all to see, brother. Rhys said without turning Cassian's way. // Cassian only shrugged. He was past caring.

When they finally have sex , we have this short back-and-forth:

"I'll hurt you." // "I don't care" // "I do."

and my personal favorite

"I'm beyond lies right now, Nesta."

When Nesta asks whether Cassian enjoyed their previous encounter, he tells her:

I enjoyed myself too much. I've thought about it for days and days.

"Whatever you want. Whatever you need from me." He knew those were a fool's words, knew he offered up too much.

And when Nesta asks "How can I need you again so soon?" Answer: because they're mates.

"I've needed you from the moment I first met you. And now that I get to have you, I don't what to stop

When they find out about the new Dread Trove, he's quick to defend Nesta to others:

This scene isn't really dialogue, but I'm including it because I love Cass.

They moved on to far merrier subjects, but Cassian mulled it over throughout the evening. The fighting was only part of it. The Training would sustain her, funnel her rage, but there had to be more. There had to be joy. There had to be music. (emphasis added)

When Nesta breaks down at the end of the hike, we see that Cassian doesn't just love Nesta, but he likes her, he may even admire her.

"I don't know how to get there. I don't think I'm capable of it" // "You are. I've seen it -- I've seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself?"

"You don't need to become some impossible ideal. You don't need to become sweet and simpering. You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look - which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don't want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself."

"I'll be with you every step of the way... Just don't lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I'm fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it." (emphasis added)

When Cassian and Nesta go to the prison, there are some more telling moments:

"What if my presence would go unnoticed, but yours sets off a trap? We can't risk that." // His throat bobbed. "I can't risk you." // The words slammed into her heart. (emphasis added)

and later,

"I have always been your friend Nesta. Always"

When Nesta and Cassian return from the Prison:

Nesta brushed her fingers against Cassian's in silent understanding. His own curled against hers, meeting her stare as if to say, See? We're the same after all.

But when Rhys suggests having Nesta dance with Eris, Cassian is territorial to the max

"You're not going to use her."

"Over my dead fucking body," Cassian exploded.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything," Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much --"

"I don't like it."

He also agrees to go with her to the cottage in the human lands, and is so damn supportive and kind to her there. Action not words here but I love this himbo so much

Cassian stood beside her through all of it. Not speaking, not touching. Just there, should she need him. Her friend -- whom she'd asked to come her with her not because he was sharing her bed, but because she wanted him here. His steadiness and kindness and understanding.

And of course, the amazing and wonderful solstice scene:

"I'm sorry for how I behaved last Solstice. For how awful I was."// "I know. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Because I was fucking jealous!" He roared, wings splaying. "You looked like a queen, and it was painfully obvious you should be with a princeling like Eris and not a low born nothing like me! Because I couldn't stand the sight of it, right down to my gods-damned bones."(emphasis added)

"You're not going to marry Eris." "No" "There will be no one else. For either of us." "Yes" "Ever."

The big ole fight

"Say what I've guess from the moment we met. What I knew the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night"

"I am your mate, for fuck's sake!" "You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?

"You promised me forever on Solstice," he said, voice breaking. "Why is one word somehow throwing you off that?" (emphasis added)

And the conclusion that just wasn't satisfying enough:

"What do you want? // "You" // "You've had me from the moment you met me."

#nesta archeron #Cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #acosf #a court of silver flames #nessian #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

242 notes · View notes

blossom--of--snow · 3 years ago

Text

Opening lines meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories. (If you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Tag some people to play the next round! I was tagged by @andallthatmishigas whose first lines I loved to either revisit or read for the first time 💕

1. For the first time since they started helping haunted families, Ed and Lorraine didn’t leave the house of their own volition, hand in hand, battered but unbroken.

2. “You really think so?”

3. Jean couldn’t remember the last time the prospect of a date set her heart to racing.

4. This wasn’t the Warrens’ first anniversary waylaid by the demonic or something mistaken for it, but this year, they wrapped up their false alarm in time to enjoy their evening.

5. Every time Norma lugged her groceries up the steps, she regretted buying a house with two front doors.

6. By the time Dee negotiated the fair sale of his priceless first maps of the Caprican oceans, Bill Adama wanted to forget he ever knew the name Laura Roslin.

7. After Ed woke up, the doctors performed a series of tests that gave Judy the perfect excuse to convince her mother to eat something.

8. For days afterward, Lorraine flinched when he touched her.

9. Ed proposed seeing Psycho on a whim, while they were enjoying their first dinner out together since their daughter was born four months before.

10. Jean dreaded the aftermath of a knock at the door.

11. Lucien had missed breakfast again.

12. “When I suggested camping, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

13. To find Amelia Jean Beazley, one had only to look for bouncing blonde curls.

14. Jean knitted more than usual during the holiday season, but this year, Lucien could swear that something was different.

15. While Kathryn had no interest in explaining the particulars of Chakotay’s behavior to the Kradin ambassador, she assured him that her first officer’s actions were merely the result of the trauma he had experienced in the clash zone.

16. Before, the color green evoked memories of home, of her favorite tree, of life.

17. Laura’s trail of belongings betrayed the type of day she’d had.

18. Kathryn Janeway circled the empty holodeck for the seventh time.

19. Moving on from the past.

20. Kathryn Janeway had always hated the hills of San Francisco.

Favorite: 13 (from “Unconditional,” a tdbm fic) because that line is borne from a memory I treasure of a child I miss every day. But 10 (from “Sparkling Silence of a Dream,” my tdbm fix-it baby) is a close second.

Patterns: I like to start a story with a line that clearly sets you up for the rest of the fic, a line meant to shock, or a line that is unsuspecting. Rarely start one with dialogue.

I tag @ofhouseadama @okaynextcrisis @rikertroi @escapewithstories @brittanias

#blossom writes #tags #writing #fic

12 notes · View notes

starsreminisce · 1 year ago

Text

Lucien’s POV of Elain being kidnapped

Lucien's senses screamed danger, a familiar intuition that had guided him through centuries, but this time it was different—an unsettling recognition of his mating bond with Elain, signaling a threat to her.

Abruptly, he stood, gaze fixed on the window as if it could reveal her situation. A boat would take too long, and winnowing meant a two-day journey. Sorting out where to take her would have to wait.

Papa Archeron, breaking the silence, questioned, "Something the matter?”

"Elain's... something is wrong with Elain," Lucien revealed urgently.

Papa Archeron, seemingly unfazed, resumed his meal, "If she was with Feyre and Nesta, she'll be alright. You are needed here."

The nonchalant reply ignited a blaze of anger within Lucien, a furious tempest swirling in his chest. Unable to contain the seething rage, he brought his fist down on the table with a thunderous crash, sending cutlery into a chaotic protest, clattering in discordant symphony. The room seemed to quiver with the force of his fury, and the atmosphere crackled with tension, revealing the depth of Lucien's livid discontent.

"How can you be so uncaring?" Lucien's temper flared. “They kidnapped her a second time!”

"Sit down," Papa Archeron's authoritative voice demanded, making Lucien question if he faced a high lord.

Reluctantly, he complied, though every instinct screamed to leave.

"Because she needs to experience this every once in a while," Papa Archeron explained, leaving Lucien conflicted and frustrated.

Lucien, his power radiating, engaged in a silent standoff with the resolute old man, the urgency of Elain's distress intensifying through their unspoken connection. The fire within him swelled and churned, a tempest of emotions as his thoughts delved into the intricate planning that lay ahead. The weight of responsibility and the need to act pressed heavily on him, fueling the intensity in his eyes and the determination etched on his face.

But something in her father’s look gave him pause.

Papa Archeron, undeterred, continued, "If you are to be Elain’s betrothed, you will not treat her the same way as Feyre and Nesta did."

Perplexed, Lucien tilted his head, prompting Elain’s father to unveil a history of her confinement. "All her life, she's been made to be a doll, something for display, when she is more than capable. I share tales of my travels, hoping to inspire her to leave and experience the world."

Lucien nodded, vowing silently, but the restlessness in him persisted. Fingers drummed on the table, leg shaking with impatience.

"Tell me about her," Lucien pleaded, seeking distraction.

Papa Archeron chuckled. "I think I've said all I can."

"Tell me more."

A smile played on the old man's lips. "She'll love you. It may take time, but she will."

"I need to save her," Lucien finally confessed.

"Wait till the morning," Papa Archeron advised. "Whoever took her needs her alive. If she's not saved by morning, you can go."

In an attempt to soothe Lucien's torment, Elain's father unfolded a vivid panorama of dreams and aspirations he held for his daughter. With unguarded candor, he laid bare regrets and vulnerabilities, constructing a narrative of parental aspirations and the inevitable stumbles along the journey. Lucien, intimately attuned to Elain's emotions through their bond, witnessed the tumultuous ebb and flow of her feelings. Each revelation from her father acted as a comforting melody, gradually calming the storm within her, until the waves of distress subsided, leaving behind the serene assurance of safety.

"She's safe now," Lucien muttered, a mix of relief and defeat settling within him.

—-

Lucien was taken aback to find Elain there, her form tainted with blood not her own. Her eyes bore the weight of her actions, haunted yet proud with a hint of remorse and horror.

His instinct was to envelop her in a protective embrace, shielding her from the gruesome sight. He longed to extract promises, ensuring she'd never tread such a reckless path again.

Papa Archeron's words echoed in his mind, emphasizing Elain's capabilities.

So, he opted for a simple question, "Are you alright?"

Elain's surprise reflected in her gaze, realizing the difference in his approach. His inquiry made her reassess whether he would treat her unlike anyone before.

"Yes," she affirmed, a flicker of gratitude crossing her eyes.

#elucien #elain x lucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years ago

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 3

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1250

Summary: Mor.

After returning--you hesitated to call it this but--home to the Hewn City, your main contact with Eris, your mate, were letters that appeared on your bedside table right beside the ones from Rhys. Part of you wondered how the both of them would react to learning they shared this little similarity.

Mostly, the pair of you discussed the goings on of daily life in your respective courts; though, nothing either of you shared was anything that would be considered a weakness in your courts. Occasionally, very occasionally, there were deeper, more meaningful discussions. Quippy banter, to the contrary, became fairly common much to your surprise. Then one day you received a note--for it wasn’t near long enough to be considered a letter--the likes of which you’d never expected. It was just one line, no explanation, no signoff, just three words.

“Please forgive me.”

Before you could pen a reply, Cassian burst into the room. “You need to come quickly. It’s Mor.”

You hadn’t laid eyes on your friend in weeks. Really since that ball where you learned that your fate was tied to Eris’s You could barely stand to look at her in all honesty. Partially because you were assigned across the house from her usual haunts (something you were suspicious of due to the suddenness of the shift since you couldn’t be sure there wasn’t a reason Rhys did it) and partially because you felt so damned guilty about the fact that you were chest-deep in the process of falling for her unwanted fiancé. Guilt that, over the next few hours, would claw its way deeper and deeper into the pit of your stomach as you learned the true horror of what happened to Mor at the border of Autumn.

Her sleeping with Cassian however long ago to ruin her virginity was an act of desperation that was unexpected but not all that surprising.

Her father trying to force the marriage anyway, not at all shocking.

But the story, however vague, of what they did to her when Eris said in no uncertain terms that he would not be going through with the engagement. Then the fact that he’d just left her there, potentially to die of her various injuries. Especially in light of the knowledge that he’d been so close to getting her out of the whole arrangement. At minimum, it made you want to go back and tell her that you had a way out, that she didn’t have to go through such desperate measures. At worst, you wondered if Eris was really the man you’d come to know him as or if he was really how Rhysand and the others claimed.

You had to speak to him. Speak, not write. So you penned your own note as soon as you were able.

“Meet me where you left her or I’ll never speak to you again.”

You told no one you were leaving, let alone where you were headed. This was a mess for you to sort out, not them. Still, no matter how this panned out, you’d never be able to tell anyone who your mate was; that was certain. Gone was whatever hope you had that you’d all be able to sit around a table at Solstice. Gone was the dream that you might one day have your own wedding with your family smiling happily for you. Now with this looming over Eris’s past.

Sure enough, the second your feet touched the ground, he was stepping out of the shadows.

“Why?” you demanded, tears welling up in your eyes.

His shoulders were slumped, hands in his pockets. A far cry from his usual, cocky self. “Because if I’d touched her, everything would have been over. For us and for her.”

“What the ever-loving fuck does that mean?! Is it so far beneath you to offer her help? Cauldron’s sake, Eris, what if it’d been me?! Would you have turned me away as well??”

His voice was uncharacteristically icy when he muttered, “If it was you, there is no force in Prythian that would have kept me from your side.” A deep breath hissed past his teeth. Scalding hot rage danced in those golden eyes. “If I’d so much as touched her, it would have been as good as accepting her as my wife. I don’t expect you to understand how Court poli--”

“Now is absolutely not the fucking time to talk to me like I’m lesser, Vanserra,” you snapped.

His jaw visibly clenched before he spoke again. “If I helped her, I would have no choice but to marry her. Because she acted so rashly, there was no clean way to break off the engagement. She would have been bound to me, trapped in a court surrounded by ravenous hounds, and I to her, doomed to know I would never be able to wed you.

“I won’t make excuses to say it was acceptable. Not to you. But you know how my father can be. Cauldron knows the only one in my family not like him is Lucien. Her fucking an Illyrian bastard--” There was a weight to those words that made your insides squirm. Too many times you’d seen his normally-neat handwriting turn jagged or blood spot the page after Beron ‘punished’ his eldest son, but you couldn’t let that insult slide.

“I’m an Illyrian bastard, Eris. Does that make it acceptable to make you suffer for talking to me?!”

“I am not saying it makes it acceptable!” he snapped. “She’s alive and free because of my actions, so I cannot regret the end result. I can only regret how she got there. I will live the rest of my life with that regret, but at least I know she will get to live hers.”

“They will never forgive you.” There was so much else in your tone than just those words. All the hopes and dreams for the future that the pair of you had developed in your letters were dashed forever.

“As they shouldn’t.”

Those tears finally spilled over as you asked the question that’d plagued you since discovering he was your mate. It felt like asking it just added fuel to the fire that was trying to separate you at every turn, a fire named Beron Vanserra. “We’ll never be able to tell anyone about us, will we?”

In the span of a second, he was across the space between you and was pulling you into his arms. One hand cradled your head to his chest, the other pressed against the small of your back. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Your hands clenched against his shirt. “They’ll kill you if they so much as smell you.”

“I wouldn’t blame them.”

You looked up at his face. “Eris . . .” was all you managed to utter before grasping at the nape of his neck to pull him down for a desperate kiss.

It was him that pulled away after a few moments. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against your forehead after placing a tender kiss there.

You wanted to assure him that it was alright, but it truly wasn’t. “I know.”

“What she okay? When you left?”

“Unconscious again, but healing. Azriel and Cassian are playing guard dog for her.”

“Good.” There was a pause. “I--” The words seemed to get caught in his throat. “I am proud to have you as my mate, Illyrian bastard or not.”

Your hand slid up to cup his cheek. “We’ll get through this, Eris. One way or another.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris x reader #eris imagine #reader insert #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine

84 notes · View notes

vexillumalbum · 4 years ago

Note

Just saw this for mysme, but could I possibly indulge myself and ask for a MLQC headcannon or fic of the boys having a wet dream about MC? Whatever you’re feeling my love ♥️ Thank you for your beautiful work 💕💕

Thank you for your request! I hope this satisfy you haha

NSFW below

Victor

„Victor~” your voice filled with need was one of the giveaways of how much you wanted him. And when you spread your legs, sitting in front of him on the desk in his office to show him that in the morning you had totally on purpose forgotten to put on your underwear, something inside him cracked and within seconds your skirt was on the floor.

Blood boiled in his veins and was reaching his cock, causing him to lose his temper. You were so beautiful with cheeks tinted a light shade of pink and eyes begging him to fuck you, he was unable to resist you.

A whimper left your plumped lips when cool fingers of one of his hands marveled upon your slick folds while the other hand made a quick work of his belt and zipper. You kissed him, or maybe he kissed you. It didn’t really matter. You were both too lost in a moment to care.

„So good—” Your moan reached his ears drowning his own groan as his hard length disappeared in you. A feeling so heavenly familiar yet excitingly new every single time his cock was enveloped by your heat.

The scent of your arousal - sweat mixed with floral perfumes, your sweet cries of pleasure as he was senselessly pounding into you, your warmth that was so inviting he—

Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt

Startled, he woke up in his bed, his pajamas disheveled and sheets creased. He turned off the alarm clock, then ran a hand over his face to discover that his forehead was covered with sweat.

A low grumble got out of his chest. He instinctively glanced over to the other side of the bed, where he would normally find your figure sleeping under the covers, but now it wasn't there due to the business trip you were taking.

Usually he could control himself and his lust, but your absence was taking its toll on him, and he'd had dreams like that for several nights now.

Ignoring the aching hardness in his pants, he grabbed the phone to see if he had received any messages from you. And when he saw you assured him in one of your text messages that you would be home tonight that day, his member throbbed a bit.

He replied with a simple „I’ll be waiting” but in his head he already saw all the places and positions he would take you in. He had to make you regret leaving him for so long.

But for now his hand had to be enough

Gavin

Too much.

The sight of your breasts bouncing with every swift move you made, the heavenly sounds escaping your plump lips and the way your warmth welcomed him back with your every move accompanied by his feverish thrusts.

It was all just too much for Gavin.

His large hands caught your hips to encourage you to move more and as his calloused fingers dug harder into your flesh, his name left your mouth making him unable to think properly.

„Gavin!”

Your hands mindlessly wandered along the edges of his muscles and with every second your nails were digging more and more into officer’s skin leaving moon-shaped marks. He was barely controlling himself, every time you rode him, he would had to hold himself back in order not to finish too early.

He recognized all the signs that you were close. Your hands clenched into fists on his chest as your eyes rolled back, and your pussy squeezed his cock tighter and tighter with every move.

He had always thought you were beautiful, but it was in those moments when you were on verge, ready to plunge into the abyss of pleasure, that he considered you the most alluring.

Gavin let himself get lost in pleasure knowing yours would come soon enough and when one of your hands went to grab his hair and tugged lightly he—

Ring ring ring

He sit up frantically trying to stop the noise that caused him to wake up. Because of his actions his phone, still ringing, dropped to the floor making Gavin frown.

Who was calling him on the early Saturday morning?!

Picking up his phone, and seeing your smiley face along with your name on it, he started panicking a bit vividly remembering his dream. Dude, relax, she doesn’t know

„Gavin? Where are you?”

„What do you mean?” He asked shifting uncomfortably on the bed. There was a big contrast between your voice in his dream and your voice now but hearing it still made him blush.

„You were supposed to help me with rearranging the living room today! Did you forget?”

Shit, he forgot

„Ugh, no. Of course not. I’m on my way.” He mumbled. „See you soon.” He hung up before you could say anything more as he collapsed on the pillow. Painfully aware of his erection he tried not to think about you but it was too hard. He could make love to you a thousand times before but still be turned on even by smallest things so a dream like that was a lot to handle for him.

He groaned, got up and made himself presentable enough to go to your apartment. On the way out he grabbed a few packs of condoms, you know, just to be prepared in case of… ekhem

Lucien

„Professor, please.” Was the only thing able to be heard in one of the lecture halls one day in the early evening.

Your body devoid of any clothes was leaning over a large mahogany desk with your ass sticking out in the direction of Lucien, who was sitting in an office chair with a smug grin plastered to his face. His hands folded over his chest as he was watching your curves swaying slightly in anticipation of what’s to come.

„Naughty girls do not get their treats.” He mused.

„Please! I know I was a bad student falling asleep on your lecture! I’m sorry, now please, please~”

Tired after a long period of teasing from the professor, all you wanted to do was to release the tension he'd been building inside you. But you knew you weren't gonna get what you wanted if you weren't cooperating so you patiently waited for Lucien's next move with your hands clutching the edge of a desk.

Okay, maybe not so patiently.

You wiggled your ass and arched your back moaning his name. Your juices freely ran down your thighs glistering in the evening light of the setting sun pouring through large windows. A heavenly sight, he would think.

After a moment of silence you heard quiet metal sounds as he was unbuckling his belt and in an instant Lucien’s hands were on your hips. With a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades and a squeeze to your rear, his whole length disappeared inside you.

The warmth that enveloped his member was addicting and he would never get tired of it. Plunging in and out of you at an insane speed all he wanted to was bring you to your release, that would trigger his and he would spill inside of you or on your ass, he hasn’t decided yet.

You were close, and he was close and—

Beep beep beep

The sound of his alarm clock has never startled him until now. Usually he would be waking before it even had the chance to start ringing.

His eyes shot open and for a second he didn’t know if he was still dreaming or not. But the grayish reality brought him back to earth.

He wasn’t one to like his own dreams, usually they were nightmares, although today he wanted to go back to sleep and finish what he started. Yet, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again.

He reached over to the other side of the bed to hug your body to his chest and leave some butterfly kisses along the back of your neck.

After all, if he couldn't go back to sleep, he’d make his dream come true.

You moaned causing more hot blood run downwards to his member. In that moment he knew he would not let you go until he had you ravished.

„Wake up, butterfly. I think you owe me some apology for falling asleep on my lecture.” He whispered into your ear before grinding into your rear, making you very much awake.

Kiro

The couch in the music studio wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture you’ve ever sit on, let alone have been fucked on, but with Kiro every place was good enough to make passionate love. So when Savin left the room with the producer to discuss more details of Kiro’s next album and the blonde send you one of his trademark smiles promising mischief, you knew what you were up to.

Moments later you were pinned to the cushions with your blouse unbuttoned and Kiro’s lips attached to one of your nipples kissing, biting and licking.

You tried to keep quiet but there was nothing more that your boyfriend loved than your sweet moans so he made everything to make sure you would whimper and whine with his every move. All the people outside the room be damned.

His painfully hard length brushed against your bare thigh and when you buckled your hips to have some sort of friction one of his hands held you in place. He found your pout adorable and sexy at the same time.

„Someone’s impatient.” He sang as he positioned himself in front of your drenched pussy.

„Kiro~”

His thrusts were deep and hard and so so good your eyes were rolling back with each and every one of them. The way you clenched around him caused shivers to his spine.

„I’m close~” you sang, and when you finally reached your peak he found himself unable to control his release further. A few more snaps of his hips and—

Bang bang bang

„Kiro, wake up! You’re gonna be late for your rehearsal!” A voice, one that definitely did not belong to you, was yelling outside his hotel room door. „I’m gonna cut out all of your sweets if you won’t wake up!” Ugh, Savin

„I’m comin’. Give me a few minutes.” His reply was muffled by a pillow he put on his head but somehow his manager still heard him and left him alone.

Palming himself through his pajama shorts he grabbed his phone and quickly dialed your number hoping you would pick up. And you did after a few signals.

„Kiro? Hello! Are you up?” Your melodious voice was a pleasant sound to his ears.

„Good morning, Miss Chips.” His usual high voice was lower by a few octaves making you shiver at the other side of the call. „Was I in your dreams last night just as you were in mine? Because I think you should make it up to me for not being able to finish.”

You knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t the first time you and Kiro would have phone sex due to his constant travelling and to be honest every time he called you would wish it was this time of a phone call.

You rapidly sucked in a breath which made his cock twitched in his pants.

„Oh, Kiro~” Luckily you were still at home, so you had some time for him.

„I hope you know that when I come back, I won’t let you leave the bed.” He purred into the phone making you wet already. „But for now this has to be enough.”

Shaw

Your mouth around his cock had been his dream ever since the first time he’d seen you.

Those pink lips stretched out to fit his girth and gentle hands pumping what you couldn't fit - he thought about it at least once a day.

So when one evening you stepped in the shower with him and dropped to your knees, Shaw thought the heavens finally listened to his pleas.

You started slow, hungrily staring at his member, which gave him a big boost to his ego. You wanted him as much as he wanted you and hell, was he proud of that.

He slipped his hand through your hair and rested his back against the wall, letting the warm water run down his muscles freely.

„C’mon, baby.” With a little encouragement you started licking and sucking at the head. Shaw’s grip in your hair tightened causing you to moan and finally take him all into your mouth. What you couldn’t reach was enveloped in your hand.

Everything about it was perfect. How you were bobbing your head, how you were gagging with his every thrust making your throat squeeze slightly around his cock, how you would hum feeling him getting close. He had no idea where you had learned giving a blowjob so well but he wasn’t the one to complain.

A few more second and he could reach heaven with your lips around him. A few more—

Ding dong ding dong

Oh fuck

So it was a dream after all

He groaned, tossed around the mattress and stretched out before standing up to see who was knocking on his door so early in the morning interrupting his good time. Sharky lying in the corner of the room gave him a look that Shaw could only describe as disgusted, at what the man muttered "What are you staring at?”.

Ding dong ding dong

He opened the door to reveal your annoyed, a little red face with wide eyes staring at him angrily.

„Shaw! I’ve been standing here for— Hmph!” He interrupted you with his lips on yours and his hand around your waist pulling your figure into his chest. He didn’t even let you take a breath kissing you hungrily.

He didn’t know why you came to see him probably because you two had agreed to meet on that day and he overslept but he didn’t give a damn. He had a big problem in his pants caused by you and you were the one who was gonna solve it.

He slammed the door, slung you over his shoulder and carried you into the bathroom ignoring your confused screams.”I have to take a shower, right? I just woke up.” He told you with a hint of mischief in his tone and you knew what was going to happen.

Maybe gods did listened to his pleas after all

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mr love game #mr. love queen's choice #mr love #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #mlqc headcanon #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #mlqc bai qi #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc xu mo #mlqc smut

769 notes · View notes

roguestarsailor · 4 years ago

Text

You know what since we’re still in quarantine and i have nothing else better to do, i need to obsess over ACOTAR. I don't like a court of frost and starlight. For the longest time I couldn't figure out why I didn't like it. I aggressively read the book in maybe a day and I closed it feeling frustrated and annoyed. My version had A Court of Silver Flames preview so that definitely contributed to my annoyance greatly.

It's because it felt too perfect. Everything that had happened -- after the entire war was fought and won, they just go back to their normal lives? Yes there were hiccups and yes there were still aspects that made every IC character feel like their problems aren’t solved yet...but it didnt feel right. yes i enjoyed the snowball fight between the bat boys, feyre + rhys sexy time, and those little comfort moments too, the slice of life type things and seeing feyre accomplishing her goals and how hopeful the future seems BUT its too fast. the good parts of the book did not offset the bad parts of it.

Feyre literally accomplished pretty much every single goal she made back in ACOMAF just like that?? within a span of what a few months? a year?? She really came back from an entire war -- probably the first war of many since she's immortal and just like that, after her 21st birthday: she gets a whole entire estate, wants to start poppin babies, opens her art studio and starts teaching kids and then acting like she can rule an entire court?? the timeline is sooo short esp since its been brought up over and over again how everyone is literally 500 years old and have a super “messy” history and their changes seems to come super dupe slowly. but feyre, who has only lived 0.000000002% of her fae life, is out here thriving just fine???

the war devastated thousands of illyrian soldiers where its changing the politics of the illyrains and the faes, all of whom feyre has responsibilities over too as high lady. the mortal queens are still at large who left the humans on prythian to die which is why feyre was willing to go to war in the first place! what about the rest of hybern and their land and residents?? they wanted to enslave humans for social and economical reasons! then what about integrating humans w deep hatred and fear with deeply prejudice fae??? there’s also spring and summer court who are literally in ruins. thats literally so much. so idk how feyre is just chillin???? she gonna let rhys do all the hard work???

like feyre sit down. u should not be having a baby. esp since it took u literally a 700 pages to heal from those 3 months UTM. ur telling me shes gonna whole heartedly bring in a newborn in a war devastated world, with civil unrest (illyrains, other courts), with the messiness of human and fae integration, with trauma u and rhys will have to continue to overcome esp after THIS war??? even helping ur sisters w their traumas??

this is a personal opinion on this subject (and maybe my thoughts will change on this later on; opened to other thoughts) but when i read the part about how that weaver/seamstress artist who made that dark quilt that feyre loved talked about how her mate of 300 years didn’t come back from the war and her biggest regret was that she didnt have a kid to remember him by i just thought ur kid isn’t some sort of memorabilia. don’t have a kid to keep the memory of ur mate alive; have a kid cuz u want a kid purely for the sake of having a kid. ur memories and photos and shit will keep their memory alive but its not having a kid. some primitive need to keep the genes alive maybe?? but the way it was phrased and then in turn how feyre was like oh i need a baby pronto cuz rhys might die in the next war and regret not having a kid with him didn’t sit right with me. also the other couple were together for +300 years and have a rich life together, while shes been with rhys for literally two years THATS NOTHING IN FAE YEARS. thats still the honeymoon phase and also ur problems arent even close to being over!!!

everyone was shitty to nesta. in ACOMAF, we saw how much the IC went through and still did all they could to help feyre. what made them not think nesta deserve the same welcome? nesta is mean as a defense but did no one try to figure out what would help (amren got close but shes so under developed)??? feyre knows nesta feels too much and yet she continued to be shitty. continued to flaunt her wealth, her status, her familiarity/borderline know-it-all attitude about fae/night court, her ~estate~. forcing nest to the solstice party when nesta was literally like i dont belong, im looking at everyone through a window type of thing; the fire cracking triggering her, etc. what kind of power play was that when she made nesta come to her estate, where nesta could SEE how ~homey~ and how suscessful feyre is and fully see all the lovely paintings of everyone feyre loves that explicitly exclude her to tell her to fuck off to a war camp?? bro???? cas was a dick too and elaine was rude. i think a lot of his actions were meant to make her angry since anger keeps u fighting (as was the method of rhys for feyre in ACOMAF) but what he said was stupidly shitty and i demand that he apologize properly. elaine could have done more to help her sister but whatever. mor was definitely an ass too (and im upset for how little her character growth is).

Lucein. that man can’t catch a break tbh. im happy that hes w the band of exiles cuz he is whole heartedly accepted there. feyre was definitely an asshole to him even tho he helped as much as he could throughout the books. he tries so hard w elaine as well and it did hit my heart a bit when she was like gloves to work in my garden?? no ?? i use my bare hands see oNly aZiReL sEeS mE fOr WhO i Am. and at the same feyre is like flaunting her mate status to lucein which is mean as shit. its like this man can’t find love in prythain. then tamlin sending him his box of his things??? thats for sure brutral. tam was literally his partner through it all; savior of sorts even. no love from IC, no love from elaine, no love from feyre, no love from tamlin, no love from autumn court rejected everywhere! also HIS TRUE FATHER?? HEllo???

then on tamlin. i pity the guy! was i suppose to feel that way??? it felt like he is allowed to get a redemption arc and maybe i’ll even root for a redemption arc??? i was absolutely excited for freysand in ACOMAF but after ACOFAS, im like tamlin is....not completely bad??? his relationship w feyre was bad and the controlling parts were very much a no-no. i dont truly understand the dynamics of an abusive relationship but i can understand that it can be insidious and its the little things that hurt the victim. and i felt feyre through ACOMAF and rooted for her to escape her abuser! but then it felt like i dont think he was doing any of those things out of malice. ill say tamlin is a bad leader and doesn’t know how to run a court outside of what he sees his father do. his understanding on everything is based on the traditions of the past which i think fueled most of the things he did i.e. not telling feyre she was in danger since maybe his mom didn’t do those war planning things. ACOTAR showed how he truly cared/loved and took good care of feyre and her family. he even talked about how he didn’t believe in the enslavement of humans! i think that tam wanted to preserve what he thought was the good (aka feyre + her love of painting) and get back a sense of control that he and his entire court lost while chained to amarantha. but at the same time, i think he truly thought feyre wasn’t safe. he knows rhys can crush minds and knows feyre can’t read/write so when he got that letter telling him shes safe of course hes gonna flip shit and made a deal w the devil (although those temper outbursts were DEFINITIVELY not ok!!!). he also didn’t listen and has sense of he knows best when feyre was not the type of person. but feyre destroyed his entire court. he lost all his sentries who literally went out to die for him during amarantha’s reign. he lost lucien too; his trusted right hand man. his people were cursed for 50 years and then continued to suffer UTM and was in the process of rebuilding too! but just seeing spring court, WHO BORDERS THE HUMANS, be in ruins where his subjects left him, his people left him and hes all alone in the manson?? that was sooo sad. so im like why does what feyre did not feel satisfactory????? im mad that it didn’t feel right??? maybe there wasn’t a point where feyre talked to tamlin -- like really talked to him esp w her new found voice and power, etc. anyways, i dont hate tamlin and was like oh shit i think feyre fucked up a bit there.

rhys is a dick to nesta. which made me think, if feyre wasn’t his mate would he extend the same love and care to her??? i loved how he tried so hard to make sure feyre was ok. made sure she wasn’t breaking! all of it! but for nesta, he had the audacity to use his high lord voice and be an ass overall. even tho he can see how cas is fucken in love??? even just how he talks to cass feels off too.

i’ll even go as far as to say because of how terrible ACOFAS was, it created this intense divide within the fandom. i remember reading the first three books and was absolutely 1) rooting for freysand 2) curious about the sister relationship and how it will be mended 3) i definitely didn’t hate nesta nor did i hate elaine either -- but i was adament about them talking it out with feyre for those tough times 4) saw a more realistic and charming healing arc 5) was rooting for feyre to be a stronger voice and grow into herself 6) love the dynamic of the inner circle + feyre

but after ACOFAS, I have this intense need to defend nesta and was super mad at how she was treated after the war and in turn a deep dislike for elaine for both her lack of agency, lack of grit that made all the other characters interesting, and lack of care for her sisters (who showed how much they would risk for her). i dont hate rhys but i was extremely not happy with him and his attitude and behavior. feyre became more arrogant and was acting like how asshole rhysand would act. like her life is perfect now and i was not rooting for her anymore. freysand didn’t feel like they have complimenting qualities that made them interesting in the first place but rather they are merging to become the same person but in a bad way. that mind reading thing was cute in the beginning but it became insufferable since all thoughts were shared so seamlessly it made reading feel weird.

anyways those are my thoughts on ACOFAS. it was a 1/5 stars for me and im mad those events transpired. reading the other books made me excited to know what was gonna happen and i was truly ready to accept the characters as flawed and nuanced as they are. im not mad about character not liking each other but i am mad that everything felt off. ACOFAS just felt regressive in some parts and forced in other parts. i know not everything ends in a nice tied up bow but this book single handily ruined what i thought about these characters in the worse way possible. this book wasn’t suppose to wrap up all the problems that exists in the other books but it didn’t feel hopeful like i thought it would. it didn’t feel wrapped up and didn’t feel like i should be excited about the next books. theres so many missing pieces i feel that i think need explaining and at the same time, i think it introduced too many problems at once which made it feel like its jumping around everywhere. although im still excited for ACOSF because i love nesta, and nesta deserves so much better and i want to have hope that this bad ending will either make sense later on or it was just a blimp.

109 notes · View notes