#man bun!lucien

[lamija-v]

Decided to colour it… took me 2h, whew

[lucienarcheron]

✨meet me in the afterglow✨

DELIGHTED to share this beautiful elucien piece I commissioned from @/the_megabee33 on Instagram 🥰 Emily (@toastyrobos) took my vision and ran with it and I ADORE how it came out! I’ve been screaming, crying, and throwing up joyfully since I saw it 🥹♥️ I was thinking of saving it until July for elucien week so forgive me because how could I when I can give you some ✨fated mates in their wedding bliss✨ right now!! 

*please do not repost anywhere!

[rizzoreads88]

“ A bird of flame & a lord of fire”

I have shipped Lucien and Vassa from the moment Feyre said this line in Acowar. The chemistry we see between them in their small moments already has me foaming at the mouth for their story.

Art by Chelzd_art

Do not repost without crediting myself and the artist.

[fallingintheforest]

Yes to all of this. Have to add my haircut preference. Mostly because I’ve had this photo saved in my phone forever for when I’m ready for short hair again

Consider, Elain with super short chin length hair. She gets crazy bedhead/volume. Lucien very loudly loves it.

You have inspired me, anon. Here are a bunch of hair cuts I think Elain would look cute in

The short bob is definitely cute and I love it with bangs.

I also think she would look so fucking cute in this messy pixie style cut, and let me tell you: as someone who had a style similar to this, the bedheads are insane looking lmao. She’d be adorable!

[shardechance]

𝖏𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖗

ao3 link | playlist | detailed content warnings | masterlist

pairing: feysand rating: explicit wc: 23k warnings: non con

Feyre’s a big fan of scary movies. So much, in fact, that Halloween night spent curled up on the couch and watching Poltergeist while the kids she’s babysitting sleep upstairs doesn’t sound so bad, even if it means missing out on a party or two. It’s a relatively boring night, until a real ghost appears. Rhysand, in the shittiest costume she’s ever seen, picked the wrong house to trick or treat... but scary movies aren’t scary until they’re real.

[FREAK WEEK DAY 1]

read on ao3 or proceed below for small snippet.

The movie is better than Feyre remembers it, which isn’t exactly a surprise. The first time she saw it, her sisters stole dresses from Mom’s room and dressed Feyre up as E.T. so they could stuff her in a closet. They’d instructed her to hide, and after too long spent in the dark, Feyre eventually wandered out on her own. She found her sisters downstairs, seemingly having forgotten their little sister, with the credits already rolling on the TV.

By contrast, the boys let her have her own blanket, and laugh along with her even when they don’t get the joke. They leave the last bit of popcorn for her, and even though it’s hard in the middle and the chocolate’s gone, it tastes good. There’s fifteen minutes left in the movie when Feyre’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she’s more than a bit disappointed when she gets up to answer it.

“Be right back, boys,” Feyre sighs, flinging the blanket off her lap.

She stands in the foyer, where she can see into the living room to keep an eye on the boys and the movie, and brings the phone up to look at the screen. FaceTime Video. Lucien Vanserra.

“Hey, Lucien,” Feyre says, a bit distracted. What greets her in full and glorious outdated iPhone resolution, is half an opera mask, an open dress shirt, and the smug grin of her best friend.

“Sing, my angel of music!”

Her thumb hits the end call button before Lucien can embarrass himself further.

She doesn’t get the chance to roll her eyes, let alone head back to the boys and their movie. Before she’s even lifted her thumb from the red reject call button, his picture flashes across her screen again. Against her better judgment, her thumb slides across to green.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Lucien asks by way of greeting.

“Mind your manners, potty mouth. Tiny ears present,” she warns, turning her back to the living room as if to shield the kids from his bad language.

He snorts, shooting back something from a red solo cup. “Oh yeah? Fu—”

“Shut up!” She snaps. Her shitty phone speaker is no match for surround sound, so it’s unlikely the boys can hear from the other room, but Feyre doesn’t want to be the reason they learn their first swears. “You look like a loser.”

“What do you mean?” He lifts the mask, revealing his scarred cheek, and half a smirk. Usual golden prosthetic eye switched for a scarlet alternative. “I’m told it plays to my strengths.”

He’s gorgeous. Unfortunately, he is very much aware of that. Scars and all. Chicks dig it, she’s told. Feyre takes the last few steps to the kitchen, dropping a couple of stray candy wrappers in the garbage on her way past.

“What do you want?” she says. “I’m working.”

“Yeah, about that,” Lucien says, his tone dripping with the promise of trouble. “Ditch the kids! Come play!”

And lose the easiest hundred bucks of her life? No way. Yeah, seeing Lucien in his element, chasing the highs of what little nightlife there is to offer, flirting with boys, dancing with girls—

“Negative.” Feyre inspects her cuticles. “This is easy money.”

tag list: @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @popjunkie42 @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jon-snows-man-bun @iftheshoef1tz

[rosanna-writer]

Karma Is My Boyfriend (1/?)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Happy Elucien Week! A huge thank you to @popjunkie42 for beta-reading, and my playlist for this fic can be found here. I'm so excited to participate in @elucienweekofficial; we're so lucky to have such a dedicated team of event runners!

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

The new energy in Elain's shop was too sweet to be demonic. It set her teeth on edge—artificial strawberry, discount chocolate, cards fashioned out of glitter glue and construction paper. Nothing at all like the gentle, soothing aura created by the plants lining the aisles of Roots 'n Shoots. Elain felt it following her like a bad smell as she repotted new shipments, packaged online orders, and upsold premium fertilizer to customers who'd wandered in.

By lunchtime, she'd resolved to get rid of it.

Whatever magic was hanging around didn't seem to be a threat, but she hadn't survived three years of fighting evil by taking chances.

She had half a mind to call her sisters for backup; even though Elain was a powerful witch, her premonitions of the future weren't nearly as effective for self-defense as Nesta's telekinesis or Feyre's ability to cause explosions with her mind. But whatever was hanging around didn't seem malicious. Just…cloying.

Elain let her intuition guide her and followed the strange feeling to its source. She walked slowly down an aisle of tall, leafy ferns and kept her eyes peeled.

There—through the leaves, a flash of red. Every molecule in her body seemed drawn right to it, like a compass and a magnetic pole. She hurried towards it.

The flash of red turned out to be long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun. Elain couldn't help but notice the way it gleamed in the sun as she gently pushed a fern leaf to the side to get a better look at the culprit…

And found a mechanical eye staring back.

She squeaked in surprise and jumped backward. The leaf rustled gently as it fell back into place. On instinct, Elain reached deep into her well of power, the same way she did just before vanquishing a demon.

"Well, hello there," the man purred from the other side of the fern.

"Can I help you find something?" Elain said.

He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as radiant. He was gorgeous, and the jagged scar running down the side of his face only seemed to enhance his beauty. Before Graysen, Elain would already have been fluttering her lashes at him.

Now, she just glared in suspicion.

"I think I've found exactly what I'm looking for," he said, which did nothing to set her at ease, even though his expression had gone heartbreakingly soft.

Before Elain could demand answers, he winnowed over to the aisle where she was standing. A risky move—he was lucky there were no mortal customers while the store was closed for her lunch hour.

"Not a single butterfly in that stomach of yours. This is going to be a tough case," he said thoughtfully. He cocked his head, staring at Elain like she was a particularly difficult puzzle he was trying to solve.

"I beg your pardon?" Elain said tightly.

He began circling her like a predator, mechanical eye clicking and whirring. Elain huffed in frustration as her hands settled on her hips. Her strange visitor might not have been a demon, but she didn't have time for anything supernatural with so many orders to fill by the afternoon.

"The meet-cute I engineered just now was some of my best work, but it didn't get your heart fluttering at all. That ex-fiancé left you with quite the wound, didn't he?"

For the last year, Elain walked around with a ragged hole in her heart that refused to close, and to add insult to injury, the entire magical world knew everything about her literal ex from hell. "If you're here to discuss Graysen Nolan, get out of my shop," she said with all the venom she could muster.

"I'm here for you, Elain."

"If you're not an innocent in need of protection, it has to wait."

"Put me to work while we talk, then. I can multitask," he said with an elegant shrug.

She hesitated. The smartest course of action still seemed to be ordering this stranger out of her store, but...she could use the help. And at least he wasn't evil.

Gods, had her standards really sunk that low?

"At least tell me your name." It was irritating that he already seemed to know hers.

He sketched a bow. "Lucien Vanserra, at your service."

"The only service I require at the moment is someone to water my pothos," Elain said with a meaningful nod towards a watering can and row of plants towards the back of the room.

To her surprise, Lucien began filling the watering can without a single complaint. For a moment, Elain watched, telling herself it was to make sure he was doing it correctly—and not at all because he was absurdly beautiful.

She forced herself to turn her attention back to organizing the cards with handwritten care instructions that Roots 'n Shoots included with every houseplant they sold. She could have saved herself time and printed them, but the personal touch was exactly the sort of thing that kept customers coming back to her instead of the big box garden supply store down the road. As she worked, they lapsed into a silence that was almost companionable.

But just as Elain started to relax, Lucien went and opened his mouth again."I thought there might have been an error when the file they gave me said you hadn't had any new partners since Graysen, but now I can see why."

She stilled. "What file?"

"The file that every cupid gets when they're assigned a new charge."

A cupid. Well, that certainly explained why his aura didn't feel demonic, just sickly sweet. Elain had never crossed paths with a cupid before, and she'd been under the impression they were supposed to be a bit more…cute .

"I'm one of your charges?" Technically, Elain was already someone's charge—even after Cassian had broken the rules and married Nesta, he'd remained the guardian angel assigned to protect the Archeron sisters after they'd learned they were witches tasked with ridding the world of evil.

"My only charge, actually. The elders insisted I focus on you and only you, Elain."

"And to what do I owe that honor?"

"You saved the world, and what goes around comes around, sweetie. Offing your demonic fiancé earned you the best and brightest cupid's help with finding a doting new partner."

Lucien said it as if she were supposed to fall over herself in gratitude. But she had half a mind to slap him for the audacity to think he could just waltz into her place of business and treat her like a charity case he'd magnanimously offered to take on.

"A partner is the last thing I need." Elain and her sisters had spent the last several nights rounding up a rogue band of crossroads demons that had been plaguing Velaris's intersections. Casting the vanquishing spells on each street had taken hours, leaving her with precious little time to eat, sleep, and run her store.

It had been the same with the succubi last week, the rabid werewolves the week before, and the banshees they'd spent a whole month rooting out. These days, going on a date was unthinkable.

Lucien rolled his eyes. "You're certainly not going to attract one with that attitude."

That, Elain decided, would be the end of the conversation. She was an Archeron, one of the three most powerful witches ever to walk the earth—not someone who'd allow herself to be condescended to.

All it took was one half-hearted wave of her hand, as if she were brushing away a fly, to activate the wards she'd placed around the shop. Twin vines of pure magic grew from the ceiling, hoisted Lucien up by the armpits, yanked him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk outside. The spell wouldn't let him back in until she changed her mind.

Hopefully, that would be the last she'd hear from Lucien Vanserra.

***

As soon as she got home, Elain marched straight up the stairs of the Archeron manor. She and her sisters had inherited the house—along with their powers and mandate to protect the innocent—three years prior, and the Book of Shadows that never left the attic had guided them through all of it. Instructions for spell casting, potion recipes, taxonomies of every magical creature they might possibly come across…the Book contained it all.

The worn leather bindings creaked as Elain opened it and began searching for the entry on cupids. There wasn't an index; the ancient book was a work in progress by generations of Archeron witches, which meant it was a disorganized mess on a good day. Sometimes, wind would gust from nowhere and just so happen to flip the book to the correct page, but today, she had no such luck.

Hello, Elain.

She jumped, nearly dropping the Book. In her rush to find the entry on cupids, she hadn't noticed the bat hanging upside down from a rafter.

Rhysand—her other, non-angelic brother-in-law. He was a bat shifter that roosted in the attic while the manor had been empty, and though Nesta had been fully prepared to call animal control the night they'd discovered him, Elain had felt horrible throwing him out of his home. But since their family had lost their fortune, the manor was badly in need of expensive repairs, so Feyre struck a bargain: Rhys could stay as long as he paid rent and kept quiet.

He'd married the youngest Archeron sister within a year.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Elain said aloud. Even after years of wielding magic of her own, she'd never gotten used to Rhys's way of speaking mind-to-mind, a power that allowed him to communicate even when he wasn't in a form with proper vocal cords.

He shifted, wings and fur disappearing as he turned back into a man. The claws stayed in place so Rhys could remain inverted—he claimed it did wonders for his back pain.

"You didn't," he said, "and if there's something urgent, I can call Feyre for you."

"It's nothing demonic. At least, I don't think. Do you know anything about cupids?"

Rhys cocked his head, violet eyes sparking with interest. "I've crossed paths with a few over the centuries. They're harmless."

"Are they all that arrogant?"

"Not in my experience."

Elain bit back a frustrated sigh and turned the Book's pages a little more forcefully than necessary. It was bad enough that the Powers That Be had decided that after Graysen, she was so tragically, painfully single that it required divine intervention, but they'd gone the extra mile and sent their biggest asshole of a cupid to "fix" her, too.

"Hopefully there's still a spell I can cast to keep him away."

"Did someone bother you?" Rhys's voice went cold, and suddenly he sounded less like the brother-in-law she badgered about remembering to recycle and more like the terrifying Lord of Nightmares he also was. Elain smiled; it was sweet, in a way—Rhys was fiercely protective of the people he loved.

"Yes, but not like that. Don't go crushing minds on my account."

"What happened?"

"A cupid named Lucien came to my shop today and said he'd been sent to help me find a new partner."

"And I assume you didn't take him up on the offer?"

Elain shook her head. She'd finally found the entry on cupids, which was barely a paragraph long: Benevolent. Responsible for connecting the worthy with their true love.

The worthy. Elain certainly didn't feel worthy, not after her love for Graysen had deluded her into thinking a demon could change. In the end, she'd done the right thing and vanquished him, but…making that choice had nearly torn her apart. She'd come so close to letting him live.

It had been nearly a year, and the sight of Graysen pleading for his life still haunted in her dreams.

"If you hated him that much, I'm sure the cupid elders could always send you another," Rhys said with a wry smile.

"I don't need a cupid. Business is booming at Roots 'n Shoots, and I have my hands full with protecting innocents and corralling you, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta. That's more than enough for me."

"Being busy is all the more reason to accept expert help."

Elain closed the Book of Shadows and glowered at her meddling bastard of a brother-in-law. Rhys smirked back.

She started to go, but a pair of massive, membranous wings erupted from Rhys's back, allowing him to release his talons from the rafter, glide upwards, then land on his feet in one smooth movement. Elain crossed her arms, waiting for him to get out of her way once he'd shifted completely back into his human form.

Despite the irritation that was probably rippling off her in waves, Rhys's expression softened. "More than anyone else I know, you deserve to be happy, Elain. Even if you don't feel like you do."

A lump formed in Elain's throat. That meant a lot, coming from Rhys, who was always staring at Feyre like he couldn't believe his luck. "Love you," she said.

"Love you, too."

Despite all that love, he still didn't move, continuing to block her path to the attic's only exit. "I'm sensing a 'but,' though," Elain said.

"I should warn you that if you don't give things with that cupid a shot, Feyre might try matchmaking you herself. And if Feyre does, then so will Nesta…" He trailed off, letting the implications of her sisters teaming up hang in the air.

"Blackmail is immoral." She felt obligated to point it out, though pesky little things like ethics rarely stopped Rhys.

"Immoral and effective," he said, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the shadows with a gentle gust of night-kissed wind.

[fortheloveofbanksy]

In The Withered Garden

Summary: Underneath the darkness of Night, a vision prompts Lucien to whisk away Elain.

~ ~ ~

The first time they meet is in the mortal lands.

The knock on the door startled Elain, causing her to drop the wedding invitation she was writing. How strange. Nesta and her father were in town meeting a cartographer for an upcoming voyage. She had been looking forward to enjoying a rare moment of solitude in their new home.

Elain rose from the ornate wooden table and smoothed out her cream-colored dress. Even in the dim light of the room, the iron engagement ring seemed to sparkle as she lifted her hand towards the door. The middle Archeron sister took a deep breath. Hopefully it wasn’t that Thomas boy. Elain couldn’t put her finger on it, but she deeply disliked him.

The door creaked in protest as Elain pulled it towards her with two hands. A splinter pricked her skin, but she held her tongue. After all, it would be horribly rude to open the door to a guest while making a fuss over herself.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, tanned man with the loveliest red hair Elain had ever seen. It felt otherworldly, particularly with the top half held together in a braided bun. Elain absently drank in the sight of him, her eyes widening as they traveled to his ears adorned in earrings all the way to the very pointed tips.  

There was a fae man in her doorway.

Read on Ao3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

We bleed tonight IV

Previous chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blvdymary]

Stranger In A Band

pairing: Neil Lewis x (male)Reader

Summary: Someone being in a band AND being into movies? Was Neil in heaven?

Genre: Fluff

word count: 1.6k

Note: Literally im SOOOOOOO bad at writing smth romantic. Forgive me.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It was a slow day at the Gumshoe video. Jonathan was arguing with Lucien about which Infernal Affairs movie was the best while Neil was sitting behind the counter reading a comic book. Neil looked up from his book when the bell on top of the door rang, signaling someone came in, and he saw a tall guy walk in.

Jonathan and Lucien looked in the direction of the man and while jonathan was caught off guard by the man's unusual appearance (in his eyes at least), Lucien thought the man was just another frat boy coming in to make fun of their store like usual.

Neil rolled his eyes when he saw the man's choice of clothing. Long black hair tied in a messy bun, a few piercings here and there, arms covered in tattoos, and a super low-rise baggy jeans with a tank top. How original.

"What a man," he said internally while the man walked through the classics section. He then walked up to the counter holding a copy of "The Notebook."

Neil scanned the DVD and raised his eyebrow at the man, "Really?" he muttered sarcastically, "Yeah. It's for my bandmate, she wanted to watch it for a while." Neil's eyes widened slightly. So he is in a band, that explains some stuff.

"Do you guys perform anytime soon?" he asked suddenly, "Yeah, we have a performance in 2 days." the strange man then handed Neil a piece of ripped and crumbled paper - really? no proper tickets? - "I'll be there, with my friends of course." "Great, see you soon then." and just like that the man walked away, leaving Neil with an awful feeling of excitement in his stomach, which he found unusual because he never properly experienced this feeling before.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

[lamija-v]

I am procrastinating sm on my other wips yet here am I drawing man bun Lucien

[clockwork-ashes]

The Wedding Date - Part II

Summary: Elain needs a date to her friend’s wedding, so when Lucien offers to help, she hopes to have fun with him on the Greek island of Mykonos and make her ex jealous.

Note: Posted the first chapter as part of elucien week, and will be continuing this as a multi-chapter!!! Thank you for reading <3

Elain grabs a strapless dress with a flower pattern from its hanger, holding it in front of her with an exaggerated air, modeling the clothing for her audience. She goes onto the tips of her toes to pretend she’s wearing heels, the nails already painted a pearly white to match the colour she’s chosen for her fingers.

Nesta shrugs from her place on the bed, the only part of the mattress not completely covered by the things Elain has thrown onto it. “You’re leaving for two weeks, right?” 

Elain kicks one of her shoes from where it lays on the floor, adding the strapless dress to a pile she’s still not sure about. “Yeah,” she replies, blowing a stray curl from where it’s fallen in front of her eyes. “Technically twelve days.” 

Nesta gestures to the mess of clothes and shoes. “How many dresses are you going to need?” 

Before Elain can respond, Feyre’s voice rings loud and clear from the speakers of Nesta’s phone. They’ve been on FaceTime for over an hour and the suitcase on Elain’s little rug is still painfully empty. “Whatever you think you need, pack about half.” She sounds entirely confident, used to the chaos of travelling before she settled into her role of working mom. Feyre is almost too busy with her career and raising Nyx to focus on much else, but she always has time for her sisters, especially when they’re having a crisis. 

Packing is totally a crisis, Elain thinks. 

She holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers so Nesta can pass her the phone. “Do you think my suitcase is too big?” She asks, angling the camera so Feyre can take a better look. 

“For two weeks,” there’s a smile in her little sister’s voice, “definitely.” 

Elain groans, tossing the phone back to Nesta who has begun organizing her pants and shorts into colour coordinated piles. Nesta raises both of her brows, her expression one that Elain is very familiar with. 

Told you so. 

“I’m going to bring stuff back,” she defends, hearing the buzz of her phone from where she’s left it on her dresser. She makes her way towards it when Nesta snorts. 

“You could fit a whole person in that suitcase.” 

Feyre laughs in response and Elain huffs a sigh. “I’m going to bring lots of stuff,” she mumbles, nearly tripping over the open-toed wedges she’s planning to wear for the wedding. Her outfit had been picked out a while ago, so at least there’s that, she tells herself. 

Elain has to bite her lip to hold back a grin when Lucien’s name pops up in her notifications. She shoots a quick look to where Nesta and Feyre have actually just begun selecting the clothes they like best before she opens the messages. 

what do you think? 

Lucien’s question follows a picture of a shirt so hideous, Elain almost winces. The pattern is awful, the colours contrasting in a way she thinks has to be the lighting. For a man whose wardrobe mostly consists of black shirts and frayed jeans, Elain wonders where he keeps finding all the terrible clothes he sends her pictures of. 

Please tell me you’re not wearing that to the wedding. 

Lucien’s response is to send Elain a picture of another shirt folded and neatly placed on the foot of his bed. It’s equally as ugly, and Elain is too scared to ask whether he means to wear that to the reception. 

As Elain types out her reply, she takes a moment to imagine Lucien wearing either option. She can clearly see him in her mind’s eye, hair in a messy bun, a few of the buttons undone to reveal a triangle of skin. She knows the short sleeves will be tight around his arms, he’ll probably wear a watch. She deletes the words she was going to send, a blush making its way onto her cheeks. She’s pretty sure Lucien would look good in a burlap sack. Shaking her head, she writes back a text with a smiley face emoji attached to the end. 

I like the first shirt better. 

Feyre says something, her voice cutting off slightly, but Elain hears her name through the static. She hums, paying very little attention as she organizes two sets of sandals onto a square of clear space on the floor. 

She takes a picture, making sure that none of her mess can be seen in the background. 

Which ones???

Elain puts her phone into the back pocket of her shorts, and even though she feels the small vibration, she decides to check on what her sisters have been doing.

Nesta has already carefully folded a few of Elain’s favourite dresses and set them off to the side. She and Feyre seem to be arguing about how many pairs of pants are really necessary. 

“One black, one white, and those flowy light blue ones,” Feyre states. Elain can see her pointing on the screen. 

Nesta rolls her eyes, feeling the fabric of the tight black jeans with her fingers. “I’m telling you, this material is too thick. I’m sweating just thinking about wearing these in Mediterranean weather.” 

“Everyone needs a pair of black pants, Nes,” Feyre’s eyes widen as she spots something on the bed. “Wait, the black maxi skirt instead.” 

They both seem to agree, and as Elain goes over their choices, so does she. “If I had known how difficult packing was, I wouldn’t have left it so last minute.” She nods her head appreciatively as Nesta holds up a red shirt, watching as it gets folded and added to the neat stack she and Feyre have decided on. 

“You just need to practise,” Feyre offers. “Use up your vacation days more often,” she adds, a tiny hint of scolding within the tone she uses. Elain likes to call it her mom voice, it’s extremely effective. 

“Who were you texting?” Nesta asks, genuinely curious. 

Elain makes a big deal about being entirely present when she spends time with people, and barely checks her phone around others. 

“Lucien,” she says simply. “Maybe he can help me pack a bit more lightly.

“Doubt it,” Nesta mutters under her breath. Elain drops her mouth open in mock offence, but she kind of agrees.

“He used to live there, you know?” Feyre recalls, shaking her head at a band t-shirt Nesta holds in front of the camera. Lucien had bought it for her as a birthday gift ages ago, but Elain only ever wears it in the house. 

“In Mykonos?” Nesta asks absently, kicking at a pile of clothes that seems to be tickling her bare foot. 

“Athens,” Elain answers. Feyre might have been Lucien’s best friend in college, but she’s pretty confident her little sister knows less about him than she does. 

“Fun,” Nesta says, looking at Elain with her blue-grey eyes. “For how long?” 

“Two years.” Elain responds, finally taking some of the clothes her sisters have chosen and putting them carefully into her suitcase. She’d hate for any of them to wrinkle. 

“Wasn’t his dad an archaeologist or something?” It sounds more like Feyre is wondering out loud than actually asking. 

Elain shakes her head, even though she’s pretty sure Feyre can’t see her from the way Nesta has placed the phone. “He was researching Egyptian and Ptolemaic coinage,” Elain corrects. 

To Feyre, the words mean very little, but Nesta likes to read about these types of things. Her older sister hums, her interest piqued. Elain says nothing more on the subject, a little embarrassed to admit she doesn’t actually know a whole lot about what Helion studies. 

“You and Lucien must be pretty close, especially if he’s on board with going to a whole different country with you for a wedding.” Feyre is definitely the type to pry into other people’s business. Elain has to remind herself often that she only does that when she cares. 

Nesta interjects before Elain can respond. “He’s maybe the only thing she talks about.” 

Elain is almost too quick with her reply. “That’s not true, I talk about Vassa and Jurian, and Nuala and Cerridwen, and the ladies from work—”

“None of them look like Lucien,” Feyre interrupts. Nesta snorts in agreement, and Elain would have been just a little jealous if they weren’t both in extremely happy relationships with men they loved. 

Not that it matters, she reminds herself. 

“And I bet he likes you,” Nesta states confidently.

Elain pauses as her phone vibrates again, deciding now would be the perfect time to check her messages. Vassa is asking her whether she has a ride to the airport, and Lucien has replied to her about the shoes. She opens his first, her lips quirking up into a small smile. 

both are nice

which ones are better for walking?

Elain guesses that none of her sandals are particularly comfortable and makes a mental note to take runners with her on the plane. Before Elain can send her response, Nesta speaks. 

“You sure you don’t like him?” She hands Elain her wedges, perfectly wrapped in a plastic bag. 

“I don’t,” Elain reassures her. She’s thought about liking Lucien a million times, and she always comes to the same conclusion. 

Lucien is just a very good friend. 

There must have been a slight delay with the FaceTime, because in the short space of silence, Feyre snorts in a way that Elain can only describe as childlike. 

“I don’t,” Elain repeats, not really sure why she feels the need to so at all.

Elain is saved from having to answer any more questions when Rhysand’s deep voice rings loudly from Nesta’s phone. She goes and sits next to her sister, eager to catch a glimpse of her nephew. 

“Back from the park?” Feyre calls, grinning as Rhysand comes up behind her, Nyx in his arms. Elain watches as Nyx turns to his mom, clearly wanting to hug her. 

Feyre holds onto her son as Rhysand waves his hello, quick to leave them so that they can continue to talk without him hovering. 

Nyx giggles as Feyre prompts him to wave. “Hi aunt Elain, hi aunt Nes,” she coos as he laughs, still not able to speak just yet.  

They spend the next fifteen minutes fawning over Nyx, all three of them completely charmed by how cute he is. Elain can’t imagine having a kid of her own, but Feyre seems even happier now that she’s settled into her new life. 

When he starts to get cranky, Feyre sighs. “Guess I should go, I’ll call you though, before you leave.” Just as she finishes her promise, Nesta hangs up, and Elain knows Feyre will keep her word. 

“Shouldn’t you be going, too?” Elain places a hand on Nesta’s arm, grateful for all the help, but she feels a bit guilty after having seen the time. 

Nesta shakes her head. “Let’s finish, I probably won’t see you tomorrow,” she sets the dress for the wedding as neatly as possible into the suitcase while Elain gets all the smaller items she’ll be taking with her. 

Elain opens her phone, silently swearing that she won’t take a look again until Nesta leaves. Lucien has sent her another picture, but this time he’s in it. 

Russet eyes bright, a perfect smile on his handsome face, Lucien is wearing a white tank top. His red hair is tied back, loose strands falling to his shoulders and he’s giving the camera a thumbs up. There’s a closed suitcase on the floor by his bed. 

all packed :))

Elain can’t help but smile, until she remembers the disastrous state of her own room. She’ll send him a picture later she decides, when Nesta leaves and she throws everything she won’t be taking with her into the closet. 

Nesta nudges Elain with her foot, her brows raised. “You don’t?” 

“I don’t,” Elain says one last time, but the words sound empty even to her own ears.

[shadowqueenjude]

So I think we can all agree that the Archerons were so weird because they didn’t bicker like real siblings, so here’s a snippet of a fic I’m writing where all the sisters are arguing. This takes place during a dress fitting for Elain’s wedding. Warning: lots of inner circle slander

Nesta scowled at her reflection as faeries fussed over her, adjusting the gown she was wearing.

“You look lovely, Nesta,” Feyre said from the seat beside her. “Easy for you to say,” Nesta muttered. Feyre looked magnificent in an electric blue halter top paired with black slacks and boots. A circlet of small crescent moons lay upon her forehead. “I look ridiculous.” Nesta glared at the gold dress she had been shoved into again. “God, it’s the same as my hair. Can’t you get a red dress, at least? This makes my skin fade out.” At last, the dressers obeyed, pulling the ill-fitting monstrosity away from her body. 

“You looked pretty in that dress, Nesta,” Elain said gently, her hair up in a jumbo bun at the top of her head, wildflowers surrounding the band holding it up. She wasn’t getting fitted today, but she had come to see what dresses Nesta and Feyre would be wearing. Not like Elain would have any difficulty with her dress. She looked perfect in everything she wore, except perhaps that black dress she’d once worn in the Hewn City. It was annoying.

“Quit lying Elain, I looked like wallpaper,” Nesta snapped. Then she sighed. “Red is truly my color, but that blonde bitch everyone thinks is sooo beautiful is always wearing it, so I usually opt for black.”

“Don’t speak that way about Mor,” Feyre said sharply.

“I’ll speak of her however I like, little sis. She’s not my friend, and frankly, she isn’t really even yours.”

Feyre glowered at her. “She saved me from Tamlin.”

“Did she do that for you, or for little Rhys-rhys? Has she ever stood up for you in front of Rhysand? She certainly despises me; thought me fit to throw into the court of nightmares. I highly doubt you’re much different.”

“Yeah, I am. Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, people would treat you differently.”

Nesta laughed sarcastically. “Because 500 year old uber powerful Fae warriors can’t handle a 23 year old formerly human woman handing their asses to them, can they?”

“You’re really going to start this now, with my wedding just around the corner?” Elain complained. Nesta whipped her head around to her. “Oh, sure! I absolutely care about this sham of a wedding! Feyre’s mate is a jackass, my mate is a jackass, but perhaps third time’s the charm with you, huh, Elain?” 

“Lucien is ten times the man Rhysand will ever be,” Elain said coldly, her temper causing her voice to raise volume. Nesta opened her mouth to say that this doesn’t mean much considering Rhysand is a small boy stuck in a man’s form when Feyre interrupted. “Wait a damn minute. You both despise my husband?” she demanded.

“What gave it away, Feyre?” Nesta drawled. “Me constantly insulting Rhysand, resisting his orders, and declaring him not my high lord? Me not wishing to live with the rest of you? Elain literally leaving Night to get away from him?”

“I thought Elain left Night because of Azriel!”

“Azriel?!” Elain let out a snort which turned into such mirth that Nesta stared. “That broody, brainless bat not man enough to speak about his feelings in any capacity? You think I’d leave because of him? As if! I left because I got tired of your fake family’s fake welcome and decided Lucien was better than the lot of them.” 

“Lucien let me get hurt in Spring!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Feyre!” Elain shrieked, and Nesta gasped. Elain cussing was something Nesta frankly thought she’d never hear. “Lucien told me his side of the story, and it seems as if your head was too far up Rhysand’s ass to realize everything Lucien has done for you!” 

“Just like Feyre never acknowledged the work we did around the house when we were in the cottage,” Nesta muttered. Elain nodded. Feyre stalked up to Nesta and slapped her face so hard her neck tilted. “Oh no you didn’t,” Nesta snarled, and she shoved Feyre into a coat rack, taking her and the rack to the ground. The two of them began wrestling, Elain crying, “Stop, you idiots, stop!” in the background. “Help, there’s a fight going on in here!”

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

|•♡•♡{Welcome pick your man!}♡•♡•|

|•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡{Number 10}♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•|

fairy god father

{♡} ask

- Alphonse trying to get the two together

meme turned sad

{♡} ask

- would you love me as a worm?

I'm back in the house again??

{♡} ask

- Lord have mercy I'm back in the house again STG

audio

{♡} ask

- He treats them so much better

bun in the oven

{♡} ask

- whoops wrong things to text him-

fruit roll up on his dic-

{♡} personal

- silly silly idea

Incorrect Quotes:

what they do?

boss music

wazer blue

call for ya mama bitch

too tough to cry

lil hottie

glaze this DICK

jolly ranchers

cuddle trap

{♡} requested

- Boo trying to get up, who's clinging to them? Seth.

feelings

{♡} ask

- Oh! shit we caught feelings

electric boogaloo pt 2

{♡} ask

- Boo said it'd time to soften a bad boy

httyd

{♡} ask

- He'd so love the movies

protective boo

{♡} ask

- I'm actually so soft for this one

can tell when it's gonna rain

{♡} personal

- I feel like he can just tell

class of 2013

{♡} personal

- hurt myself a lil bit w this one

Angst time

{♡} personal

- nightmares actually suck

Incorrect Quotes:

blue enchanting eyes

white toxic trash

both a lil insane for each other-

{♡} personal

- they both kinda crazy ngl

Incorrect Quotes:

will love you no matter what

Angst time

{♡} personal

- LOVE ME LOVE ME-

Incorrect Quotes:

Not fine

spite and magic, with a hint of guilt!

tiktok audio

{♡} ask

- two bad bitches

liquid smooth

{♡} personal

- it just fits

Incorrect Quotes:

BLOCKED

STAY AWAY FROM MY BROTHER

new skin

end of an era

oooh nice, perfect~

juggler

wanna be in your arms

{♡} requested

- wrap your arms around me and stay.

tied down, lovingly

{♡} requested

- We tie Auron down, wonder how that went?

busted up like a jock geeked up like a nerd

{♡} personal

- It fits also

Incorrect Quotes:

third base

now we can.

Who's jealous?

ain't I clean tho?

demon name

{♡} ask

- idea of Lucien's name

painting

{♡} personal

- this is literally them wdym

food critic

{♡} personal

- He'd love being one ngl

Incorrect Quotes:

MINE!!

marinara sauce never cling

hot tempered partner

big back

Cute aggression

{♡} requested

- The bittersweet boys get cuteness aggression

dancing hc

{♡} requested

- how well do I think the boys dance?

Tug of War

{♡} requested

- Camp AU, Alphonse has a wager and Boo is competitive.

twitter posts idea

{♡} ask

- Idea 4 twitter posts I do

listener gc

{♡} ask

- I hc this actually

kid versions

{♡} ask

- kid versions being cute

au's from moot

{♡} ask

- just as the title is

puff puff pass

{♡} ask

- Hufflepuff Boo coming in clutch

tall fuckers

{♡} ask

- they have no right being this tall stg

Boo and Tiana

{♡} ask

- this is so cute actually

Aussie accent Boo

{♡} ask

- rip anyone trying to understand them

boobs bounce

{♡} personal

- half the yv boys can do this teehee

meme

{♡} personal

- Auron and Charlie meme idea (actually wnet insane trying to find the picture I was talking about)

roblox horror games

{♡} personal

- this would actually be so fucking hilarious

random strays Bittersweet boy's

{♡} personal

- they cannot catch a break stg

Boo and Lucien meeting

{♡} personal

- this would be so funny

younger self

{♡} personal

- wait is that younger me-

Incorrect Quotes (Multi boys):

boys we like

hate men

CREASE HIS JORDAN'S!!

be mean to me.

bittersweet gc

lol I'm dying listener's version

lol I'm dying Bittersweet version

everything you always wanted

they're my color

let the world BURN

give me patience

It's still you

.•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•.

•♡•♡..Please consider following..♡•♡•

[helion-ism]

SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 1: First Date

@sjmromanceweek

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

Word Count: 2,014

or: read it on ao3

someone lit from within

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Why?” Did she sound suspicious? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A baby was crying somewhere in the front.

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

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

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

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

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

“How many of those happened separately?”

“Three,” she smiled at him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucien apparently didn’t have those any qualms. 

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

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

“Are you?”

“No.”

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

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

“I am visiting, too,” Lucien said. 

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

[letstrytoohard]

I'm curious about this coffee shop gwynriel 👀

This one is kind of Christmas related, so I may try to finish it before December is over 👀. Gwyn has stumbled into this coffee shop close to her part-time job at the library, post all nighter for her overbearing thesis advisor, only to meet a stupidly hot barista.

Azriel normally works for Rhys's company as head of cybersecurity, but drunkenly lost an undetermined bet (I'm thinking maybe he tried to flip a really big pancake and failed, a la Nick Miller) and is now working at Elain and Lucien's coffee shop/bakery, Hot Crossed Buns until Christmas.

Here's a snippet, since I think Gwyn is all of us in this situation:

First, the name of the coffee shop was written over the menu board on the back wall, Hot Crossed Buns. The name itself was funny, however, it blinked in neon lights over the employee who was, well, the embodiment of hot-crossed buns. Emphasis on hot. Easily over six feet tall, he towered over the register, tanned skin and dark hair glowing under the cozy lighting. Hazel eyes peered out from under dark lashes, his features lovely and practically chiseled from marble. Gwyn was no artist, but she could recognize perfection just as well as the next person, and this man was as close to perfect as she’d ever seen.

In the back of her mind, she knew the silence was stretching into awkwardness, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, her sluggish brain struggling to process what was happening. And before she knew it, she was laughing. She had reached that specific level of exhaustion that caused everything to be hysterical, and a tear fell down her face as she continued to laugh in front of the man, who looked rightfully confused. 

“Please,” she gasped in between chuckles, “don’t tell me you work here.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and he leaned against the back wall, framing himself more perfectly underneath the sign. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, could you elaborate?” His voice was low and smooth, reminding Gwyn of dark chocolate and smoke over water. She gripped the countertop, staring straight ahead at the little fake plant next to the register, trying to calm herself down before responding. “Surely this is a marketing ploy?” She tried to keep her voice steady as she nodded towards the sign, then gestured to him. 

He grinned then, white teeth flashing in the low lights as he pushed off the counter and walked towards the register again until they were practically nose to nose. He smelled nice, of course he did, and Gwyn had to hold her breath to keep from greedily inhaling his scent. 

“Are you saying that I embody Hot Crossed Buns?” His breath fanned lightly across her face, her lashes fluttering slightly as she looked up at him, determined to hold eye contact.

[ofduskanddreams]

Lack of Discretion

For @stickyelectrons. The request: Modern AU Elucien. Elain goes for a drink after work and meets bartender Lucien.

Elucien ✦ Rated T ✦ 966 words ✦ on AO3

Elain was tired. Not the kind of tired that made a person yawn or long for a nap, but the sort that settled in her bone marrow and made everything heavy.

Most of the time Elain loved her job, but every so often life would descend and remind her that managing a garden center and nursery was no simple task. This had been one of those weeks where everything had gone wrong and she’d pulled multiple twelve-hour days. Now it was Friday and, thankfully, she’d been able to put the place to rights in time for the weekend. 

As much as Elain wished to be at home and asleep, she couldn’t cancel plans with Vassa again. They’d already rescheduled this evening three times. So there she was, walking down Main Street with the hot August breeze tugging at the strands of hair escaping her ponytail toward Cauldron Brewed, their favorite bar in town.

Elain had left Velaris once Feyre had started art school. She found the thirty-minute drive between the bustling city and the town of Nightwood to be ideal—close enough that it wasn’t too much of a chore to visit her sisters, but far enough away to feel like hers.

Approaching the faded brick facade of the bar, Elain realized it had been the better part of a year since she’d come here. 

She checked her phone to see if Vassa had arrived, but there were no new notifications. Elain sent a text telling her she’d be at the bar. 

 The warm chatter of conversation washed over her as she stepped inside, the air conditioning covering her arms in goosebumps. She made her way to the long wooden bar, smiling at the faces she recognized and basking in the feeling of how nice it was to truly be a part of the community now.

That feeling vanished, however, when Elain slid onto a stool and noticed the bartender. She’d never seen him here before. Elain knew that for a fact because she was certain she could never forget meeting someone who looked like that.

He had long red hair knotted into a bun at the base of his neck, broad shoulders shifting beneath his white button-down. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, showing off the warm brown skin and corded muscles of his forearms like he’d walked right out of a wet dream. Then there was the way his vintage looking jeans hinted at powerful thighs as he walked over to her.

Quirking a brow with a pale scar bisecting it, he stopped right in front of Elain. 

Oh shit. Elain blushed as she realized how blatantly she’d been checking him out.

“Hi there, what can I get for you?” the man—Lucien, according to a pin over his shirt pocket—asked, clearly amused at Elain’s lack of discretion.

“A gin and tonic, please.”

“Sure thing,” Lucien said, his lips curving into a smirk that should be illegal for how it made her stomach flip.

She watched him making the drink with a practiced, fluid ease, wondering just how long he’d been working here and regretting not coming back sooner. 

He placed her drink down on a paper coaster. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

Jesus, Elain needed to get her mind out of the gutter because that shouldn’t have sounded like an innuendo. 

“I’m fine for now thanks, just waiting on someone.”

Lucien’s brilliant smile faltered for a second (which Elain only noticed because she’d been staring at his lips—again) but he recovered just as quickly, nodding politely and walking over to help someone else. 

Elain sipped her drink and checked her emails while she waited for Vassa, doing her best not to keep glancing over at Lucien and failing. After forty minutes had passed with no word from her friend, Elain was starting to worry. But just as she had the thought, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

“Vassa? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m really sorry but I’m not going to make it tonight. Dahlia went into labor early and it’s looking like it’ll be a long one.”

She could hear the exhaustion and excitement layered in her best friend's voice. Vassa operated an equine rescue and rehabilitation center just outside of town. “Don’t worry about it. That’s exciting news!”

“You’ll have to come over and meet the new addition soon, okay? I really miss you. Tuesday coffees aren’t enough.”

“I’m free Sunday after four. Would that work?”

“It should! I—” Vassa paused, listening to something in the background. “I’ve got to go, the vet just arrived. I’m really sorry for standing you up and I love you and I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”

And then the call went dead. Elain laughed softly; Vassa was always like that—a whirlwind.

“Still expecting your date?”

Elain hadn’t noticed Lucien approaching. 

“No, my friend can’t make it but for a very good reason.”

“Do you mind if I join you, then?” 

Elain blinked, then noticed that his button-down and nametag had been replaced by a sage-colored t-shirt and he had let his hair down. 

“I’m off the clock. It’s after seven,” he elaborated when she didn’t respond, color creeping up his cheeks. “It’s totally fine if you want to tell me to fuck off, I just…” he shook his head and walked around the bar to stand near the neighboring stool. “Sorry, I’m doing this all out of order. My name is Lucien.” He stuck out his hand. 

It was large and warm, completely enveloping hers and sending a cascade of sparks up her arm. He was flustered and Elain found it rather adorable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lucien. My name is Elain. Why don’t you have a seat?”

✦ ✦ ✦

tagging: @areyoudreaminof @ablogofsapphicpanic @damedechance @iftheshoef1tz @panicatthenightcourt @separatist-apologist @moonpatroclus @kingofsummer93 @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @talons-and-teeth @krem-does-stuff

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