#Lachlan standing at the doorway peering in to watch

[kaitaiga]

All my ocs coming together to watch MAFS, only to collectively shit on Tim

[leechobsessed]

Last Night

Ella reflects on what (and who) she did last night.

characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan Lonan, Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: Ella Sagen x Lachlan Lonan / Logen words: ~2k warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual activities

etre bleu series, previous chapter

There are three things Ella immediately notices when she wakes up.

One, she is hungover. Not hungover, but she can tell she had one too many drinks the night before from the throbbing in her temples and the sandpaper feel of her mouth.

Two, this is… not her bed. As she blinks the sleep from her eyes, she recognizes the soft and luxurious material of the sheets as those custom of the palace bedrooms. But these are not her sheets, and this is not her room.

Three, she is not alone.

From behind her, she can hear the soft breathing of the other person, feel their fingertips brushing against the bare skin of her back. The contact of their skin against hers brings a flood of memories from the night before; dancing, flirting, kissing, other things, all with—

Lachlan.

Ella’s eyes fly fully open as her mind races through the events that transpired the night before, trying to figure out how, why, she would allow herself to get drunk and fall into bed with someone she just met, let alone her best friend's brother.

Groaning internally, she pulls herself out of bed as carefully as she can and begins to silently collect her clothing from the trail that leads to the bed from the door. 

The curtains are open slightly, letting in just enough light for her to search for her belongings that have been scattered about the room. Next to the bed she finds her underwear, her dress thrown over a chair a few paces away, her shoes leaning against each other next to the door. The pieces of Lachlan’s costume follow a similar pattern, highlighting the short path they took to fall into bed. 

She quickly pulls her underwear on, grabbing his thin white shirt from the floor and pulling it over her naked body, not wanting to wrestle herself back into her dress and risk the noise waking him up.

After collecting any remaining dignity she can find on her way to the door, she allows herself a moment to glance back at Lachlan, who is still sleeping peacefully, his body turned toward her, his hand stretched toward the side of the bed she had just vacated. 

The sight of him makes her breath catch the same way it did the night before. His light brown hair is tousled just so, his eyebrows are pulled together fractionally, his lips parted ever so slightly. The sheet is draped over his hips, leaving his strong arms and shoulders exposed. 

He is, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’s ever seen. 

Blushing furiously, she hurries out of the room before he can wake up and catch her starting. 

She pulls the door shut gently behind her, exhaling fully once in the hall. Ella peers both ways down the hallway before setting off toward her room, her pace just shy of a run, hoping to avoid seeing anyone on her way. Much to her relief, this wing of the palace is empty this early in the morning, and she makes it to her room without being spotted. 

Once safely inside, she throws the clothing in her arms onto the floor before flopping gracelessly onto her bed, covering her face with both hands. 

“Gods, what was I thinking?” She groans, fisting her hands in her mess of chestnut waves, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she had been thinking much at all last night. She was usually cautious and careful, normally one to feel things out before rushing into anything, but from the moment their eyes met there was this… pull. A spark, an undeniable attraction. 

Until last night, she thought it was something that only happened in romance novels. 

But there she was, completely transfixed by a man she had just met, blushing like a teenager every time he looked at her, intentionally flirting back, melting into his touch, into his arms, into his kiss. 

And then there she was, falling shamelessly into bed with him, and shamefully sneaking out the next morning. 

Ella pulls her hands from her hair and sits upright, her cheeks burning. She jumps off the bed and stomps over to the vanity to start to wash the previous night off of her, to try to regain some semblance of composure. 

She leans on her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror; her hair is more wild than usual, her lips slightly chapped, her cheeks flushed pink beneath her freckles. 

She was sure Lachlan would understand why she left him this morning. They both had quite a bit to drink at the party, they had just met, and it didn’t mean anything. And, to state the obvious once more, he was Leila’s brother, and she was her best friend. 

She quickly conjures water into the small bowl in front of her, making it as cold as she can stand and splashes it onto her face, praying the chill will quell the blush that seems to be permanently plastered across her cheekbones. 

She watches the water drip off her nose and chin and back into the bowl, trying to push the thoughts of Lachlan from her mind. Every time she finds her thoughts drifting back to him — to his eyes, to his hands, his arms, his chest, his lips, his fingers — she splashes herself with more water, which does nothing to cast him from her mind, only succeeding in leaving her shirt soaked. 

“Gods, pull yourself together,” she mumbles, reaching for a towel just as someone knocks lightly at her door. 

Embarrassed at the fact her first hope is that it’s Lachlan on the other side of the door, she sets the towel down and frantically searches the wardrobe for something to quickly slip on to cover up the fact she’s still practically naked. 

“One moment,” she calls as a second knock comes, slipping on a long robe as she hurries to pull open the door. “Oh, Leila.”

“Oh, Ella,” Leila teases, leaning against the doorframe, her gray eyes alight with mischief. “You seem disappointed. Were you expecting someone else?”

Ella clears her throat, wrapping her robe around her more tightly, leaving her arms crossed over her chest. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I didn’t get a chance to see you last night, but I figured if I found you here this morning, I would have to believe you made it to the masquerade.”

“The word of your fiancé wasn’t enough?”

Leila waves her off. “Not the point.”

Ella raises an eyebrow. “You’re very chipper for someone who isn’t a morning person”

“And you’re rather dour for someone who is.” Leila retorts, smirking. 

“I, um, I may be a touch hungover,” Ella offers quickly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. 

“I figured that may be the case. Luckily for you, I have something to help with that lined up at breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Right now?”

“Soon. Nadia has asked breakfast to be brought out to her private veranda, and requested we all join her there. I can wait and walk down with you if you’d like?”

Ella shakes her head. “No, I know the way. I need to freshen up a bit first.”

“Yes, attending breakfast at the palace wearing only a linen shirt wouldn’t quite fit the standards set forth by the countess,” Leila says, still smirking. She stands on her tiptoes, trying to peer over Ella’s frame and into the room behind her before dropping back onto the flats of her feet. She leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is he still in there?” 

“Who?” Ella asks, glancing behind her, her brows pulled together in confusion.

“The man whose shirt you’re wearing.”

Ella blushes, pushing Leila out of the doorway and pulling the door closed. “I’ll see you down there,” she says, retreating back into the room, leaving Leila laughing in the hallway. 

She could only assume the breakfast invitation was extended to both the Lonan brothers as well, and the thought of seeing Lachlan again so soon sets her cheeks and ears burning. 

Ella sits back down at the vanity, quickly grabbing a brush to try to tame her hair. As she yanks the brush through the curls, she hears something metal hit the floor. Confused, she glances at the brush before turning to look at the floor, frowning at the gold and emerald hairpin lying beneath her. 

She combs her fingers through her hair, looking for the rest that she had started the night with, humming when she doesn’t find any more. Accepting they were probably lost while she danced or when she removed her mask, she finishes brushing her hair, making a mental note to apologize to the countess for losing them. Once her hair has been dealt with, she heads to the wardrobe to find something more suitable than just a shirt to wear to breakfast. 

Lips pursed and hands on her hips, she surveys the clothing hanging in the wardrobe. Like every piece of clothing ever gifted to her by the countess, all of the dresses are beautiful and expensive, flattering to her figure, but not exactly her style. 

She pulls at the skirt of one of the dresses, absentmindedly wondering if Lachlan would like the blue or the purple, or if he’d prefer the neckline of this one over that one. 

As she catches onto her train of thought she freezes, reminding herself again that he was drunk last night, and he could care less what she chose to wear in the light of day. 

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, she pulls one of the more simple dresses from the hanger, a deep maroon dress, adorned with small gold details around the neck, waist, and ends of the long sleeves. She slips quickly out of Lachlan’s shirt and into the dress, sighing again as she examines herself in the mirror. 

She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ears, frowning at her reflection. He had called her beautiful, more than once, and she was sure the volume of alcohol he had consumed made that seem like a fact to him. Either that or he was trying to charm her into bed. 

Either way, it worked, she thinks, groaning. 

But the way he looked at her… the way he touched her… that couldn’t have all been the alcohol's doing. 

And... she hoped it wasn’t. 

She exhales, fiddling with her ring. There was just something about him; his charisma, this magnetism, a genuineness that she found irresistible. She wanted to find any excuse she could to spend more time with him, to get to know more about him, everything about him. And she wanted him to know that she found him desirable in more ways than just sexually. 

Although the sex was… phenomenal. 

Blushing, she pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. 

All she can hope is that he feels the same. 

And that Leila won’t kill her. 

Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes and gives herself one last once over in the mirror. She smooths the front of the dress as she stands up and exits her room, trying to suppress the nerves and excitement building in her stomach at the thought of seeing Lachlan again. 

[leechobsessed]

Sunrise

As usual, Ella’s awake to see the sun rise. But this morning is a little different, and not in a good way.

Characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan Lonan and Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) Pairing:  Ellanora Sagen x Lachlan Lonan / Logen Words: ~1700 Warnings: implied nudity, mentions of sexual content, overall sad vibes

Like clockwork, Ella’s eyes flutter open just as the first few rays of the morning light begin to peak through her window. She can hear birds chirping somewhere nearby outside the partially opened window, see the colors of the beginning sunrise in the clear sky, feel the cool breeze as it raises goosebumps on her exposed arms. By all accounts, it’s a beautiful day. 

But something feels wrong.

Stretching, Ella rolls over, still half asleep, her hands reaching out to seek some warmth and comfort from the beautiful man who had fallen asleep next to her, who had fallen asleep next to her almost every night over this past month.

And woken up with her, she thinks to herself, smiling. 

Her smile falls quickly as she realizes the bed next to her is empty, the sheets cold. 

Suddenly wide awake, she shoots upright in bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her exposed chest, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. Maybe he’s just stepped out for some breakfast, she thinks. Maybe he’s only downstairs, not here with her now, but not out of reach.

She sees the chair by the door where he had left his clothes is now empty, the bedside table where he left his sketchbook, bare. The shoes she had tripped over as they tripped over themselves to get into bed had disappeared.

If she wasn’t sure before, she was now. Lachlan wasn’t there. 

Her stomach sinks, and her brow furrows in confusion as she slides out of bed, pulling her robe off the chair by the door. She wraps the garment around herself tightly as she makes her way into the living area. She busies herself making tea, thinking back to the night before, trying to recall if Lachlan said anything about having to leave early in the morning. 

Truthfully, she’s finding it hard to recall much of any conversation they had the night before. They didn’t do much talking. Instead, the night was filled with heartfelt, passionate, desperate kisses and needy hands, lots of noise but definitely not much talking.

Her frown deepens as she pulls the jar of tea leaves off the shelf. Now that she’s thinking about it, he did seem… off the night before. Not sad or angry, but… pensive. Reserved. There was none of his usual flirting, no laughs as made her squirm by pressing kisses along her hip bones, no smiles against the skin on her neck as she moaned his name. 

Off. 

Distracted, she leans against the stove, hissing as her skin makes contact with the heat. She pulls away quickly, calling up her magic to turn her palm cool to hold over the burn. She turns the stove off, suddenly not in the mood for tea.

Well, at least not from here.

She dresses quickly, pulling her cloak on as she practically runs out the door, not bothering to lock up behind her. She knows it’s early, too early, to be going to her friend's tea shop, but she knows Leila would be the only one to have any inkling of what has been bothering Lachlan. 

Maybe Lachlan was there, too. 

Ella slows her furious pace, inhaling deeply to calm herself, trying to ignore the still-present sinking feeling in her stomach. She’s overreacting, overthinking, she tells herself. Everything is probably fine. He probably had a commitment in the morning, just didn’t want to disturb her on his way out. 

Why does she care so much anyway? she asks herself. Lachlan isn’t hers. He’s free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. They aren’t together. 

So then why does she feel like this?

She’s at the tea shop in record time, peering through the windows to see if Leila has arrived yet. Through the slightly fogged glass, she catches a glimpse of dark brown hair weaving in between the tables and breathes a sigh of relief. 

Ella knocks on the door, pulling her cloak around her tighter as she waits for Leila to make her way to the front of the shop. Her friend pulls the door open, her pretty face registering surprise for only a fraction of a second before her lips pull into a smile. 

“Oh, Ella. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I hope it’s not too early—”

Leila shakes her head quickly and steps out of the doorway, gesturing for Ella to enter. “Not at all. Come in, please. I’ll make us some tea.”

Ella nods in thanks as she steps into the sitting area of the shop, her body relaxing fractionally in the comfortable and familiar atmosphere. She glances around, looking for any sign of her friend’s brother, the pit in her stomach only growing when she finds none. He could just... be somewhere else, she reasons. 

She removes her cloak and hangs it on the back of a nearby chair before making her way to a table by a window and sitting down. Leila emerges from the back a few moments later, two cups of tea in her hands. She sets one in front of Ella before she takes her seat across from her. 

“This is a new blend, so I need you to be very honest with me when you tell me how it tastes.”

“If you put the blend together, I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Ella responds, managing a smile. 

Leila smiles, rolling her eyes as she brings the cup to her lips. She takes a sip before she turns her cool grey eyes on Ella, who follows suit, nodding in approval before she sets the cup down. 

“It’s good.”

The corners of Leila’s mouth turn down as she leans forward slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ella asks, trying to keep her voice calm, nonchalant. She takes another sip, using the action as an excuse to avoid her friend's piercing gaze. 

“Well, for one, I kind of expected to see you at the docks this morning. I know it was early, but—”

“The docks?” Ella parrots, her eyes flying up to Leila’s, her brows pulling together in confusion. Her heart sinks as Leila frowns, her head tilting slightly to the side, setting her cup down slowly. 

“Yes, the docks. Lysander and Lachlan left this morning. They’re headed back to Umbra.”

Ella’s stomach twists uncomfortably, her lungs suddenly devoid of any air. She swallows hard, her body suddenly very cold. “Back to Umbra.”

Leila sighs, leaning back in her chair, shaking her head in visible irritation. “So Lachlan didn’t tell you.” 

Ella manages to shake her head. She simultaneously feels everything and nothing at once, her mind still trying to process the words Lachlan left.

Why should she care? They weren’t together, she reminds herself. They aren’t together. He has no reason to tell her. He has no obligation to her, she wasn’t anything more to him than someone to have fun with. She knew that. She was just… something to do while here, just a distraction—

“So typical of him, honestly,” Leila sighs, pulling Ella’s attention back to her. “I’m so sorry, Ella, if I had known—”

Ella stands up suddenly, causing Leila to jump. “I’m sorry, Leila, I have to go.” 

As her friend stands up in concern, Ella is already out the door, leaving without even grabbing her cloak. She picks a direction, any direction, and starts walking. She’s alone. Alone on the streets, alone in Vesuvia. 

And Lachlan’s gone and not coming back, and her heart aches as the realization settles in. 

Her pace picks up, and soon she’s running through the streets, taking turns on a whim, knowing she’ll get herself lost, but not caring in the slightest. 

She thinks back to those few days she spent with Lachlan, getting both of them lost in a city she’s lived in for over a decade. Although he teased her for it, he didn’t mind. And neither did she. 

She turns on her heel down another street, which thankfully opens up into somewhat familiar territory. She’s sprinting now, her lungs burning with the exertion, her muscles screaming in protest, but she doesn’t care. She can’t feel them. She can’t feel anything. 

Ella slows her pace only to avoid running into and hurting someone in the crowd quickly beginning to form in the market. And again, she’s reminded of Lachlan, how he’d go with her to get pumpkin bread in the morning, after waking up to watch the sunrise with her. And how he’d eat it, even though he didn’t like it, even though he told her he did. 

She pushes through the crowd and breaks into a run, only stopping once she finds herself at the edge of the city, staring out at the sea. 

Ella stands edge on the wooden dock, staring out into the open water, her heart hammering against her sternum. She scans the horizon, looking in vain for any sign of a vessel heading out to sea, away from the docks, away from Vesuvia, away from her. 

She sinks to her knees, both the physical and emotional exhaustion beginning to set in. 

She pulls her legs over the edge, allowing them to hang heavily over the water. She wraps her arms tightly around her, regretting not grabbing her cloak, trying to push the thoughts of his arms around her out of her mind. 

How could he have left without saying anything? Did she really mean that little to him? Was she reading him wrong?

She had never been so drawn to a person. Gods, his laugh, his smile, his hands, those eyes. The need to have her skin against his and her lips on his was overpowering and dizzying, but she couldn’t get enough. How he always put his hands on her back to pull her close. How he would run his nose along her shoulder blade before placing kisses there. The feeling of his hands and his mouth on her breasts. The feeling of him inside her, his breath hot against the skin of her neck as he told her she was beautiful. 

Was it just lust?

There’s no way, she thinks, that she could have been that far off. She had never felt like this way about anyone, ever. Everything felt so easy with him, so right. She had never laughed so much, so freely with anyone. He was always so playful, so charming, so incredible. And in those moments where he wasn’t, where he couldn’t be, where he was vulnerable, where he allowed her inside just enough, she found herself even more drawn to him. 

No. It wasn’t just lust. It was something more.

She runs her hands furiously through her hair, as if trying to pull the thoughts of him out of her head. 

But she knows she can’t. 

Lachlan left. 

“Fuck.”

Her heart aches again, drawing out a strangled groan from deep within her chest. Frustrated, hurt and heartbroken, Ella buries her face in her hands, and cries.