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asnowfern · 11 months ago

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Love Me Before The Bubble Bursts

Summary: It is the last night of her work conference in Adriata and Elain decided that she needed to have a little bit of fun. Who else better to show her than her smooth talking redheaded counterpart from Springton? Rating: T WC: 3.2k Read on AO3 Listen to odoriko by Vaundy for vibes✨✨✨

A/N: Written for Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek : First Date! Don't mind me, just continuing to defy time zones during fandom events as I always do!

A warm orange hue lights up the modern furnishing of the sleek hotel room. Not that Elain is looking at any of that. With a slight smile to herself, she stares at the bold headline on her phone that she has read for the umpteenth time today.

VELARIS LEADS THE CHARGE WITH REGIONAL GRID PROJECT TO DRIVE RENEWABLE ENERGY ADOPTION TO NEW HEIGHTS!

Giving it one last fond stare, she locks the phone with a click and collapses back into the plush bed. The device slides out of her hand and bounces lightly. She covers her eyes with the back of her forearm as an exhaustion washes over her.

It’s done. It’s finally done.

After months of slaving over stacks and stacks of documentation and late nights of calls stretching different time zones that stretched into early morning meetings with key political players driving the project, the agreement has finally been signed at the major international energy conference in Adriata. She is elated, relieved, exhausted.

She is exhausted and empty.

Elain reaches her hand out, feeling blindly for the familiar slim rectangular device. The large numbers of her Lock Screen jump out at her behind the beautiful backdrop of the Illyrian Mountains - a constant reminder of what she is trying to save.

08:54 PM

Not an entirely unreasonable time to head to bed, she reckons. Afterall, she does have a long flight ahead of her tomorrow. Her eyes glaze over at the tall white ceiling, her brain drifting off with it.

“It’s all work to you, Lainey. You have made your priorities very clear. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t make this, make me, a priority.”

Rich brown eyes sharpen and Elain sucks in a breath. She promptly sits up, glancing around the expensive room she would likely never be able to afford by herself. She floats herself to the glassed wall, taking in the panoramic view of how the river sparkles even in the dark night, the city skyscrapers glittering in the distance.

Making the snap decision, she flips around and stalks to her packed luggage. With one thrust elbow deep into the bag, she pulls out the elegant yet fun jumpsuit Vassa had insisted she brought.

It doesn’t have to always be all work. She reminds herself firmly. She can have fun and let loose too.

***

Or maybe not.

She thinks sulkily as she idly stirs her cylindrical bottomed drink, topped off with a silly umbrella. An Adriata Afternoon, they had called it. A sweet slushy cocktail that is reminiscent of a margarita but more refined. Stronger too, judging by how light her head is getting.

Her brow creases slightly at the flashing lights lighting up the dance floor, momentarily illuminating the moving bodies smushed together, drawing attention to body parts that would probably be better off in the shadows. Heaving one heavy sigh, she empties her drink in one go, and is about to rise to her feet when a flash of auburn slides into the seat next to her.

“Leaving so soon?” The velvet baritone voice asks with the same authority that, more often than not, vexes her over the line.

The edges of her mouth quirks. She should leave, she thinks, still possessing enough awareness to know that. But still, she tilts her head towards him in casual observation and lets her gaze linger and wash over her gilded counterpart from Springton.

He has shed his stuffy tie and jacket from the conference, choosing to roll his sleeves to his elbows instead and reveal more of the golden brown skin and toned forearms. The sensual curve of his lips flick upwards lazily, intoxicating russet eyes she had never quite seen this up close rakes over her, branding every inch of exposed skin.

Suddenly, the room is all too hot.

Elain closes her fingers over the still cool surface of her glass and clears her throat, “Mr Vanserra.”

He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, “It’s after five. Call me Lucien.”

She can’t help but huff lightly at the absurdity of the statement, can’t help the sassiness that creeps into her voice as she retorts, “I recall having many, many conversations long past five pm with you,” and it may be the Adriata Afternoon wrecking its own brand of havoc on her but the next words escape her breathily, dragging out each syllable, “Mister Vanserra.”

“Touché,” he chuckles and offers her a glass identical to the one in his other hand, “but today is pretty momentous and we deserve it, don’t you think, Miss Archeron?”

She takes the glass, their fingers touching for a brief moment. She tries with little success to ignore how they seem to tingle pleasantly.

“Well then,” she raises her glass, declaring, “To us.”

The glasses clink harmoniously.

“To us.”

***

Elain giggles, her fingers idly swirling the empty glass. “The look on his face though!”

“On his face?!” Lucien sputters in mock outrage, flinging his hands in the air, “do you have any idea how many management meetings I had to sit through afterwards to convince Tamlin of the trade benefits of the project?”

She dissolves into giggles and uses one delicate finger to wipe off a tear from the edge of her eye. At some point over the course of the last two drinks, they had moved to the cozy booth at the corner of the bar, far away enough from the blaring noise of the crowd. The length of her outer thigh is resting against his while his shoulders are close enough to occasionally rub against hers.

She tries futilely to stifle the laughter still bubbling in her chest to commiserate in a barely straight face, nodding sagely, “Must have been trying.”

Russet eyes narrow and the beautiful face leans in, full of mischievous intent. “It was,” the low husky bedroom voice leaves a trail of goosebumps down the back of her neck. Elain’s breath hitches, her head instinctively angles to the side, exposing the delicate fair skin of her neck. Thick lips hover a mere centimetre away, puffing hot breath with every tantalising word, “and how does the Velarian Authority intend to compensate for the wasted time?”

She hums. “Messy to bring in legal,” her eyes flutter close in relish of the phantom touch of lips on skin, “what if we settle this privately?”

“Oh?”

Chocolate orbs open to smouldering russet. It burns hot and bright. She twists her body towards him, apprehension and desire warring within her. She asks, spurred by the liquid courage coursing through her veins, “Shall we get out of here?”

Surprise overtakes him for a moment. A moment is all that’s needed for her to pull back and begin backpedalling furiously. She adds hastily, “Out of this building I mean. This is my first time in Adriata and I have barely taken one step out of the building and-“

“Elain,” he cuts off her rambling with surprising warmth, wrapping her hand in his. He pauses, flicking his gaze towards her strapping heels, a bright spark in his eyes, “I have just the idea but you might need to change to a more sensible pair of shoes though.”

Elain raises one piqued brow in response.

***

“Really?”

Lucien ignores the skepticism in her voice as he continues to tap into his phone, registering and renting the bicycles before them. Elain bounces from one ball of her foot to another. After a quick thought, she takes out a plain hair tie from her small bag and pulls her luscious golden brown hair back into a high ponytail.

She glances around. Shutters have been pulled and locked down at the surrounding stores, a little presence of a nightlife beyond the bustle of the rooftop bar they were just at. But even at this late hour, the promenade by the river that snakes through the central district of Adriata is still sparsely populated, mostly by couples strolling with their fingers interlaced, the air filled with soft whispers and shoulder bumps.

A click of his phone later, her unlikely companion for the evening slides the slim device into his pocket.

“Done!” He announces with a flourish, a welcoming smile graces handsome features and sends the butterflies in her stomach into a fluttering flurry. “Well, my lady? Your personal bicycle tour awaits.”

She takes the bicycle being rolled towards her, swinging a graceful leg over it, sending him a bright smile. “Lead on, good sir.”

Lucien sets them off at an easy pace. Elain follows easily, sending much needed blood circulation through her alcohol plied body, which has also seen little but short walks from her hotel room and the conference halls for the past week. The cool breeze of the city whips about her face playfully.

They take a sharp take away from the glittering river and begin meandering about the quiet roads slicing through tall office buildings. Elain is about to open her mouth to send a teasing remark to her tour guide about the tour lacking in scenery when said guide turns back to her with a wink, as if he knew exactly what she was about to say.

She pumps more energy into her legs so that they’re cycling side by side instead. “So do you often give flirtatious bike tours to women you’ve just met?”

Hopelessly fishing, maybe, but here she is.

“But we are not strangers, are we?” He returns evenly, “we have been conversing for months. What makes you think I haven’t been thinking about this for ages?”

Elain isn’t able to stop the flush rising up her chest. She had found the man insanely attractive from the moment he turned on his video setting on the project kickoff call, of course. A silent admiration that made the long hours a tad easier to bear. But to think that he might have thought the same of her? Something within her preens like a well-groomed cat.

“My, my,” she tuts, “and to think I’ve thought you so professional the past few months.” Her lips curve in a good-natured tease at the slight crease in his brows, the indignation forming, and continues quickly in a quiet confession, “me too.”

She snaps her head abruptly back to the front of the road, not wanting to catch his reaction. Not yet.

There is a huff of laughter next to her before he pulls up in front of her once more, leading the way. It isn’t long before a long length of dense trees come into sight. Crossing the dense layer of greenery opens up to a huge open space roaring with life - a night market, of sorts.

They return the urban sharing bikes, turning them back into the designated lots. There are a series of clicks as the bicycles engage its locking mechanism. Elain takes the elbow offered chivalrously to her, looping her arm with the redhead.

The market is filled with Adriata locals, full of chatter in its native language. There are a variety of stalls that formed two layers of the circular space - the inner row that comprises mostly of stalls selling food and beverages and the outer rows that comprises a mix of fun carnival games and small rides, even a petite ferris wheel that has somehow remain hidden behind its forested guards, invisible to the outside eye.

Their first stop is a fried street snack - a well-spiced battered collection of mushrooms and seafood. The perfect oily balance to the alcoholic drinks they had. Lucien smiles, too entirely pleased with himself, as Elain gushes at the perfect crispy texture of the exterior and soft insides, wonderfully complemented by the tangy dipping sauce. They pair it with a sweet spiced honey drink that washes it down perfectly.

They walk along the chain of typical carnival games. She stops them in their tracks by grabbing tightly on to Lucien’s elbow, gasping at a familiar fox plushie with synthetic bright orange fur.

“Is that a limited edition plushie of the fox character from the Suriel show?” She asks, more to herself than her companion.

“Indeed, it is,” answers the jovial game master in a thick accent, pleased at the recognition, “all yours if you can hit all the targets.”

Elain turns to Lucien, her eyes bright and sparkling. “It will double our chances if we both try, yeah?”

An embarrassingly long time later, they continued strolling along with the fox toy tucked snugly between the crooks of her elbow and an all too pleased look on her face. Next to her, her companion sneaks fond affectionate looks at her.

They have almost completed their round of the market, pausing at what is likely their last stop of the evening - the Ferris wheel. It is clunky and almost pathetically small, utterly inadequate in showcasing any views the proud city boasts. Yet, there was something about its old school charm that draws you in.

Another exchange of coins later and the pair are stepping into the small booth. They seat themselves opposite one another, their knees touching in its limited space.

“If you’ve enjoyed yourself on the Vanserra Tours today. It will really help us if you could leave us a 5-star review on Yelp.” Lucien quips, breaking the silence.

Elain giggles, relishing in the lightness in her chest, a feeling she hasn’t felt in the longest time. She grabs his hands and slips both hands into large palms, callous blisters on the flipped side of his knuckles a contrast against her soft skin.

“Thank you,” she says softly into the small enclosure, “I’ve had a great time today.”

Her gaze crawls up the length of his graceful body, the subtle signs of well-defined muscles underneath the formal shirt to the breathtaking sharp contours of his face and striking russet eyes, looking back at her as if she is something so unbearably precious. Letting go of the last semblance of nerves, she surges forward to slot her lips against his.

A low groan fills the small booth and the noise of the machinery and outside world disappears.

Strong arms circle around her and pull her onto his lap. She loops her own arms around his neck as they deepen the kiss, her lips parting at the first swipe of tongue.

He tastes of a cool autumn night, warm spices mixed with a heady dose of sweet cinnamon. Sucking, nipping and the press of tongue on tongue. Sharp tugs on silky tresses and wandering hands trailing a blaze up and down her all too warm body. It is all consuming and all Elain wants is more. More more more. She presses into the delicious warmth of his body, moulding soft curves into hard planes.

A loud throat clearing pulls them apart. They turn to look at the unimpressed lady minding the ride.

“This is a family ride.” She says flatly, dark eyes are thick with judgement.

They leave with sheepish apologies but completely unapologetic grins, their fingers interlaced tightly, bodies flushed into each other, the fox still tucked tightly in her other arm. All through the journey in the back of the car hire and the elevator ride up to her hotel room. Until the room door snips shut and they fall gracelessly into the large bed.

***

Elain is having a good dream.

She can’t remember what it was about but there is a thrum of content that has her heart humming and whistling. She lets out a happy sigh and buries her face deeper into her pillow.

A sudden rude blare of an alarm tears her out of her reverie.

Chocolate brown eyes open to a hazy vision. She blinks blearily, her brain needing a few more moments to register the foreign environment. The bed beneath her moves and groans, and the memories of the night before flood her sleep addled brain.

With her head still resting on the soft pillow, she turns to look at Lucien. His eyes are still closed as his hand grasps wildly to search for his phone, which from the ringtone, is somewhere within the pile of clothes strewn across the floor. Elain feels her lips curving upwards in its own accord at the futility of the man’s action.

She chimes lyrically, “It’s not there.”

Russet eyes snap open, its gaze focusing sharply on her before the next buzz of his alarm pulls him aware. Lucien rolls out of bed, giving Elain another glimpse of firm butt cheeks as he sleepily saunters his way over to fish his phone out of the long pants and turns off the alarm. He sighs deeply, pushing long legs into the apparel.

“I have a morning flight out,” he informs, his voice coated with regret.

Her heart stutters, a weight dropping heavily in her stomach. “Already?”

She sits up, unabashedly letting the covers slip off and bare her chest to him. Lucien heads over, his hands rest on hers, pinning her to the soft mattress. He drops a kiss on her forehead, whispering, “Don’t move. I want to commit this sight to my memory.”

He steps back, and even though her hands are now free, Elain doesn’t move.

“You have my number.” She reminds him with a sad smile.

He agrees, “I do.”

It’s an unspoken promise that lifts her heart just slightly. With a final wink from the male, Elain watches silently as Lucien turns around and exits the room.

***

Six Months Later

“Let’s go, already,” Vassa complains, the Scythian native is sprawled on the small guest couch in Elain’s office, “I’m hungry.”

“In a minute.” Elain’s fingers fly across the keyboard, “Just need to send out one last email.”

Elain’s colleague and close friend groans, her head falling back on the uncomfortable synthetic leather surface. Mere seconds later, a rectangular light shines on her face as she begins typing on her phone.

Elain turns back to her screen, humming, “Almost done.”

A couple minutes of furious clicks later, she slams her index finger down on the “Enter” button. “Sent! Let’s go.”

“Finally!” The redhead cries out exasperatedly, “Let’s go.”

Elain raises her brows but says nothing as she lets her friend loop their elbows together and practically pull her to the elevator.

All thoughts eddy from her mind when the lift doors slide open, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of another redhead waiting on the other side.

“How?”

Lucien slips his hands out of his pocket, his eyes bright and warm, “I’m on a three year attachment as a Springton representative for the regional grid project.”

Elain spins to round on Vassa. Her close friend and director of the Human Resource division, “You knew!”

“Of course I did.” She answers smoothly, giving Elain a slight push out of the doors. “Now, if you don’t mind. I have lunch plans.” She gives the both of them a cheeky wink, “Enjoy your reunion!”

Elain turns back to Lucien, taking a small step forward. Her head angles slightly when she notices the slight glimmer of nerves in those breathtaking eyes. She inhales deeply before asking lightly, “Is this why you haven’t replied my text from this morning?”

A tension visibly loosens from his shoulders as his face crinkles in amusement. He steps forward to close the gap between them, raising his hands to gently cup her cheeks. He whispers, “Surprise.”

There is nothing else left for Elain to do but to rise to the ball of her feet and lightly brush her lips against his.

“Welcome to Velaris.”

End

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #SJMRomanceWeek2024 #acotar #elucien fic

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neonponders · 2 years ago

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Part 24 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍜

Part 23

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

“Steve. Explain why you have Christmas lights on bicycles.”

“Because safety,” he answered while putting the tire pump away.

“Uh huh,” Billy hummed skeptically. “Are you sure you didn’t have this prepped up for a date?”

Steve laughed as they waddled out of his garage on the bikes. “Ambiance is everything, isn’t it? You guys tucked in and ready?”

From his pocket came the rallying cry, “Weady!”

“Nighttime smewlls good.”

“Look at our wights on the woad! It’s wike we’re in a movie.”

“You weady, Biwwy?”

Big Billy looked at the littles and smiled at the fluffy collar of small Billy’s aviator jacket and little Steve’s 1920s cocoon coat. “Don’t worry about me. You just stay in there and stay warm.”

“Okay!”

It was not a particularly cold night, but the breeze combed their hair with brisk fingers and fluttered through their jackets. After the initial thrill of movement and wind wore off, the littles started scatting Cyndi Lauper since they didn’t really know the lyrics.

“Bwah. Bwah bwah. Duh duh. Duhn.”

“Nah nah nah! Skee dah!”

“Forw me it’s - ”

“Good ‘nough!”

Steve huffed a laugh and announced, “This way,” for Billy to follow. The melody from Steve’s pocket turned into vocal rumblings as Steve took them off asphalt and onto a dirt road. Soon they steered over as much grass as soil and gravel, finally coming to a tired stop on the hill of the car junkyard. Most of the vehicles were on lower terrain, since tow trucks couldn’t be bothered coming up here, plus it was a safety hazard to pile up cars on a hill without functioning brakes.

“Too many movies,” Billy teased as they stepped on the kick stands.

“Yeah, sure, dumbbells,” Steve countered. “All that muscle isn’t doing much without cardio.”

Billy stuck a sweaty hand into Steve’s hair to shove his head to the side as he walked by, leaving the illuminated bikes behind. “Hey, hey! Precious cargo, here.”

Billy ignored him and commented, “Are we party crashing the homeless’s neighborhood?”

“No, Hawkins only has a couple, and Hopper lets them stay on their streets: Lafayette and Springton.”

Billy leaned against an old pickup as he gazed out over their view of Hawkins, downtown and rural hills alike. His head turned when he heard little Steve coo beside him, “Pwetty.”

He lifted his gaze to the larger Steve. “You move quiet.”

“Gotta be light footed in my house. Just in case.”

Billy huffed, “Sure,” and peeked down at the littles again. Small Steve yawned while little Billy blinked slowly. “Give me those wrappers. You walk around.”

Billy set to wrapping a pair of joints while Steve wandered through the junkyard, catching the occasional lightning bug. Billy heard the littles scream and coo over the insects from afar, terrified and amazed.

“I don’wanna light buwb on my butt.”

“Does it hurt?”

Big Steve answered, “I don’t think so. It’s how they find each other.”

“They don’t sing?”

“Those are crickets and birds,” Steve said, plenty crickets and evening birds around them attesting to this.

“I wike birwds,” little Steve said through another yawn. “D’you think we could wide birwds?”

“I don’t wanna be high up,” small Billy whined quietly, audibly sinking into slumber.

Large Steve murmured, “I sure do,” as he rejoined Billy and accepted his share of green feathers. Before he lit up, though, he hoisted his shirt up so he could kiss down into the pocket.

Small Billy grumbled, “ ‘M not sweepy.”

“It’s for later,” Steve disregarded.

“Mm...good. Cuz I’m not sweepy...”

“Warm enough?”

“Mmhm.”

Steve lifted a triumphant smile to Billy, who loaned his lighter. “How much will you bargain that he dreams of bugs?”

“Nothing, he’s got a shield,” Steve declared before puffing his joint to life.

Billy’s eyelashes were already heavy over his blue irises - looking like clear glass in the darkness. “You’re real confident about a kiss.”

“I’m the dream kisser,” Steve snorted.

Billy laughed at the sky. “The hell does that mean?”

“I’m the stuff of your dreams.”

“You’re a lightweight to this stuff, Harrington.”

“Let me fly a little bit,” Steve scolded. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance weed sends me into an existential spiral instead of a haze.”

Billy hummed a gruff sound of understanding. A lightning bug drifted in front of them. Billy reached a hand out, easily intercepting the lazy line of flight with his fingers. The long black and yellow body recalibrated on his hand before taking off again, glowing in the distance.

Steve crossed his ankles and leaned back against the rusty pickup. For a while, Billy watched the lightning bugs drift around their bicycles, almost matching the warm Christmas lights illuminating their acropolis of the junk heap.

“Thanks.”

Billy had thought Steve relaxed with his eyes closed, but now he looked at him and found those dark eyes on himself. “What are you talking about?”

“Try not to take this as an insult, but. I didn’t expect you to be so good with them.”

Billy wisely chose to diffuse that with an inhalation of sour smoke and leaned back against the truck. “It’s not some talent like you seem to have. I teach kids at the pool. Lifeguards have to be trained.”

“I am lifeguard trained, remember? And I’m an only child.”

“Max and I didn’t know each other until - ”

“I expected you to be better at taking compliments.”

Billy pursed his lips together in deadpan annoyance. Instead of speaking, he taunted Steve but pushing his leg against the back of Steve’s knee that held most of his weight. Steve saw it coming and easily shifted his weight onto his other leg, only briefly uncrossing his legs and rocking back into Billy’s space.

Billy watched him peek down into his pocket to see that the little ones were not disturbed and reiterated, “Still. There’s a reason Hopper brought them to you instead of me.”

Steve scoffed, “Well talent runs out. That’s when skill hopefully takes over.”

Billy chuckled. “Which coach told you that?”

“Swim. He’s right. Talent is beginner’s luck. All I ever did was coast on beginner’s luck. Sometimes it ran out, or I was skilled in things that weren’t actually useful to me.”

“How much do you charge for this therapy?”

It was Steve’s turn to nudge him back. “I’m saying thank you, asshole. For being around when my luck ran out. Somebody with skill needed to be here for them.”

Billy rotated and gripped the lapel of Steve’s jacket, bodily moving him so they faced each other. Steve let him.

“Don’t call me an asshole.”

Steve, the brat, lifted his joint between them and took his time inhaling. “Then it’s butthead.” But then he exhaled upward, making the curl hanging over Billy’s forehead wiggle. Billy watched, dumbstruck, as Steve wagged his own head in Billy’s face, making his voluminous arching hair swish around Billy’s curl.

“We could joust. Or. What’s jousting?”

“You mean sword fighting,” Billy supplied, his voice barely over a whisper.

A dopey smile lifted Steve’s features. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Billy exhaled.

“Yeah.”

Billy couldn’t really say who closed the distance. He lifted his face and Steve’s mouth was already there. Billy’s heart crushed under the softness of Steve’s lips. By the time cold panic tickled Billy’s mind like raindrops from the sky, Steve was already kissing him more, making Billy feel hot all over.

Steve inhaled Billy’s smell: all clean clothes, smoke and sour, and something darkly sweet. Fresh, even. Multifaceted, like the man he let his eagerness kiss and kiss and kiss again; a long burning curiosity finally being quenched...

Satisfaction turned the page into new demands. Billy felt the wet, hot tickle of Steve’s tongue against the seam of their lips. Steve’s brows floated up as Billy’s tongue pushed between his lips. In all the ways Billy smelled good, he tasted better, and the vocalized sigh that came out of him made Steve’s face go slack, free for Billy’s mouth to plunder.

Steve felt himself stir in his jeans, even more so as Billy got a grip on his belt loops and pulled their pelvises flush together. He had no idea when his hands lifted to rest on Billy’s shoulders, but they were there now and one was creeping up to hold the side of Billy’s neck, the basin of his thumb fitting underneath the curve of Billy’s ear.

For how hot and heavy they got, the weed made them groggy and worse -

Steve’s stomach growled as loudly as if a ghost engine had awoken in one of the cars. Billy retreated enough to make eye contact with him. Steve both defended and dodged his accusatory gaze with, “We left the food at home, didn’t we?”

“That was a terrible idea.”

“Will you make out with me after second dinner?”

Billy grimaced slightly. “When we reek of garlic and soy sauce?”

“We already reek of garlic and soy sauce.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine, maybe.”

“Maybe!” Steve huffed, but it got swallowed up by Billy kissing him loudly and tugging him toward the bikes.

#i'm stealing from my fic Dracula Has a Mullet #the boys ride bikes there too #harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #like magnets

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