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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 1 year

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even in those quiet moments, i hear your voice

elriel month prompt six: words unspoken

NSFW.

Another Secret Dating Modern AU installment. Read other fics in the series here

It was the laziest of Sundays, but it had been a while since Azriel had spent the entire morning in bed. He probably hadn’t done so since his teen years, when he’d sneak out of the house with Cass and Rhys and binge drink the cheap beer they’d bought with a fake ID in the local park all night, coming home just before the sun rose and sleeping the entire following day away. But honestly, if all his mornings included Elain Archeron tangled in his sheets, her jasmine scented hair splashed across his pillows and soft skin pressed up against his, he would do it more often.

Azriel had never thought he’d be the type of guy to be down so bad for a girl, but the more layers of Elain he got to uncover, the more he realised he was made for someone like her. The broody guy who loitered in shadows, falling for the sunshine flower girl. He snorted at the absolute irony of it.

He’d promptly ignored the incessant texts from Cassian at seven am, his brother hounding him to meet at the gym for a session. It wasn’t going to happen. Not today. Today he was going to do nothing but lounge around with his girl. She’d been busy all week with work and assignments, and he’d barely gotten a chance to see her.

If it was just their schedules that kept them apart, he may have been more compliant in her absence, but they had the unfortunate burden of also having to sneak around their nosy siblings. He loved that Elain was so close with her sisters, and he with his brothers. After all, they were all each other had.

Their little group had only grown closer since Rhys and Feyre had introduced them all, and he loved the bonds he shared with each, but sometimes they were all just so damn clingy.

He chuckled, wondering what their group must look like to outsiders. Probably something like the Cullen’s… Azriel grimaced, it was Elain’s fault he even knew that reference.

Elain had come over late last night after a dinner shift at the restaurant. Tired and cranky, she had dumped her bags in the doorway and made a beeline straight for his shower, complaining she smelled of fried calamari and beer. Azriel had laughed, thinking she was being melodramatic. She always smelt fucking amazing.

She had emerged from his tiny ensuite twenty minutes later, wrapped in an oversized towel with her hair thrown up in a messy bun and steam wafting out of the door behind her like tendrils of smoke. It had taken all his willpower not to stalk over to her, whip that towel off her body and throw her onto the bed. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

She had further sealed his fate, driving home the final nail in the I Love Elain Archeron coffin, when she’d gone rummaging through one of his drawers. She’d turned around with a proud grin on her face when she’d found what she was looking for; an old band tee he’d had since college. Throwing on the faded tee she loved to sleep in so much, she’d curled up in bed beside him, giving him a soft peck on the cheek before settling in.

Azriel’s eyes had almost rolled into the back of his head. She smelled like his shower gel, and that, paired with the oversized t-shirt she wore, had him internally peacocking in some fucked up, masculine alpha-male type of way. Whatever. He loved seeing Elain in his clothes, even if that did make him some sort of primitive, territorial bastard. She tucked herself into his side and Azriel had all but beamed in male pride.

He’d thrown on a Netflix movie for them to watch, but it had barely been ten minutes in before she had fallen asleep, her face pressed into his chest as her breath fanned across his skin. He’d simply smiled down at her and pulled her closer, rubbing a hand down her back, bringing his palm to rest at her waist. He’d let her sleep, his own eyes growing heavy as the warmth from her tiny form drifted over him and lulled him into a peaceful slumber not long after.

The following morning, he'd awoken early but remained in bed, not wanting to disentangle himself from the limbs she had wrapped around him in their sleep. Elain dozed peacefully as he looked over at her, and not being able to resist her thrall any longer, he gingerly rolled over onto his side. Gently pushing aside the hair that had slid over her face, scarred fingertips fluttering over her serene expression, he pressed the softest of kisses to her nose.

She didn’t stir.

He leant forward again, peppering her face with feather-light kisses, brushing his lips lightly over her cheeks, her eyes, her temples, her jaw.

With a deep exhale and a stretch of her legs, Elain’s eyes finally fluttered open, blinking as she adjusted to the light. The soft morning sunlight filtered through his window and gilded her hair in streaks of brilliant gold and honey brown. He couldn’t help but gape in awe at her, she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Morning,” she croaked, her voice still thick from sleep, face half buried in the pillow.

His lips twitched into the ghost of a soft smile. Elain had breezed into his life just a few months ago, but in that short amount of time, she’d managed to awaken something deep within him that had long been slumbering. Something he had not even been sure he would ever possess, that vulnerable ability to open oneself up to another person entirely and just… trust. Yet here she was, making him fall head over heels for her in close to no time at all.

Beneath the rumpled sheets, she hitched a leg to rest over his hip and his skin prickled in response, delighted at her proximity.

He smirked, running a hand down her smooth thigh. “Morning, tater-tot.”

She chuckled at the ridiculous nickname, and Azriel catalogued that laugh to memory. He couldn’t recall how it had started but every day since they’d been together, he’d think up of a new— albeit random— nickname to call her. She laughed every time, often remarking about the increasing ridiculousness of the names he gave her. He liked to keep her on her toes that way, and tater-tots were cute. Only psychopaths didn’t love potatoes.

Snaking an arm around her waist as his other hand gripped the thigh she had hitched on his hip, he tugged Elain across the sheets and into his embrace. Plunging his hand into her thick hair, he angled her face and kissed her, lazy and slow.

Her soft body melted into him as she sighed into it, kissing him back decadently as her hand came up from beneath the sheets to cup his cheek. He shuffled even closer to her, sidling up beside her, pressing their chests together. Elain in turn shifted, hitching her leg higher on his waist, sinking deeper into his sheets, all but mewling at his unhurried attention.

Azriel felt her delicate fingers creep up to card in the hair at the nape of his neck, her tongue laving at the seam of his lips. He opened for her, allowing his tongue to lazily caress hers as he kissed her, nice and slow, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth gently.

A small whimper escaped her throat, her hips canting softly into his, and that was all it took to spur him into action. Gripping her thigh in his palm, Azriel rolled them over, settling himself on top of her, his hips cradled in the soft space she created for him between her split thighs.

He tore his lips from hers, a true testament to his will. Or perhaps it was just proof of his hedonistic desire to simply stare at the way Elain was sprawled out beneath him, that debauched urge all but demanding he visually engross himself in how tantalizing she looked whilst spread out in his bed.

She always looked beautiful, but there was something about this moment; the way her doe eyes would soften, the way her hair would lay tousled around her, the adorable pink flush colouring her cheeks… he would never tire of it. If he had any talent with a paintbrush or skill behind a lens, he would capture it to keep forever, but instead it was another thing he promised to commit to memory.

Holding himself above her, a muscled forearm resting on the pillow beside her head, Elain merely gazed up at him, a small, secret smile blooming across her lovely face. They never needed words, and yet they could always discern what the other conveyed. In the short time they’d been together, they’d become so proficient at quietly observing each other, they could often converse simply with a pointed look across the room or a subtle twitch of an expression. He loved that. He loved feeling seen by Elain, and in turn documenting her every little quirk, interpreting the meaning of each one of her silent cues. He intended to be proficient in the unspoken language of Elain Archeron and nothing could sway his determination.

He was so fucking done for.

Elain drew her arms up, slinging them about his shoulders, hands hanging limply behind him as her fingertips brushed his shoulder blades. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, and he couldn’t help but sink into her warm embrace, her body so supple and welcoming beneath him.

The old t-shirt she wore had ridden up around her hips, and as he drew himself closer to kiss her, he pressed his hips firmly into the warm centre of her.

Something akin to a squeak escaped her lips, causing her in turn to wrap her long legs around his waist. He marvelled at her warmth, relished in doing nothing but exist in Elain’s hold. Kissing her deeply, keeping his machinations unhurried and languid, he couldn’t help but think he would happily live and die in this very spot.

Shifting beneath him, Elain’s hands trailed up his body and dove into his hair, deepening the kiss as her thighs split imperceptibly wider, allowing his rapidly hardening cock to nestle snuggly against her. She loved it. She let loose a little breath, her back arching at the increased pressure on her sensitive folds. She bit his lip gently, unable to control the pleasure slowly building, and rolled her hips, seeking more friction where she needed it the most.

Azriel chuckled, pulling back once more to look down at her. Her pupils were blown wide, all traces of sleepiness gone. In its place was a sultry, sexual profligacy, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she gazed back up at him.

“Az, I need… uh!” she trailed off at a particularly delicious roll of his hips.

Azriel tenderly brushed the golden strands of hair that had fallen into her face. “I know, baby,” he cooed, placating her with another languorous thrust of his hips, benevolently rolling into her, burying her deeper into his sheets with the motion.

Elain’s mouth popped open, her eyes heavy lidded, the brown of her irises sparkling with desire behind them. He lived to see her pleasure splashed across her face.

Running a hand down his chiselled abdomen, Elain pried open the waistband of his underwear and eased one slight hand beneath the cotton. Her fingers were exploratory, fondling him lightly before finally wrapping them around his shaft. His head flopped heavily between his shoulders at her touch, his mouth falling open with an exhale.

Her touch immediately sent sparks of pleasure ricocheting through his veins, her fingers well practiced in his preferences. The pressure she applied was just how he liked it. Fuck.

Gathering his wits, he gripped the hem of the tee she wore and slowly pulled it up her torso, exposing her iridescent skin one slow inch at a time. Her grip around him tightened, unhurriedly stroking the hard length of him.

Pulling the shirt up to her collarbones and exposing her breasts, his mouth watered at the sight of her curves, her peaked nipples ready and waiting for him to steal a taste. Lowering his face to her chest, he puckered his lips around the hardened bud of one, his tongue laving hungrily at her skin. A soft cry escaped her as she flung her head back into her pillow, her back arching beautifully.

The movement allowed him to twine a hand beneath her, pressing his palm firmly against her back to push her breasts into his face, effectively smothering himself in the swell of her curves.

Releasing her nipple from his mouth with a soft pop, Azriel licked his way across the valley of her breasts to the other side, lavishing the second with the same attention. He traced a broad hand around her waist and up to cup her breast, sinful fingers replacing where his mouth had just been, his tongue continuing to lick and suck at her chest with a reverence he reserved solely for Elain. He moaned at the taste, the scent and feel of her skin engulfing his senses completely.

He sucked and pulled and licked at her skin, teeth nipping the sensitive swells of her breasts until he’d left several blooming violet marks splashed lovingly across her chest. He knew she loved the little reminders of his passion, that the thought of wearing his love bites hidden beneath her clothes excited her. And he loved giving them to her. He could never get enough.

A short yelp escaped her at a particularly enthusiastic pass of his teeth against her hard nipple.

Seemingly decided she was done with being teased into oblivion, Elain had grown increasingly needy and pointedly pulled his cock free from his boxer briefs, stroking him with increased fervour.

She gripped him hard and twisted her hand around his shaft, just how he fucking liked it. Azriel shivered at her touch, hazily admiring the way she was able to work him up just as effectively as he had her. His blood pounded in his ears as he grew almost painfully hard, his cock leaking and standing at attention.

Elain continued to expertly stroke him, whilst the fingers of her other hand twined in his hair. Administering a sharp pull, the tug caused him to reluctantly tear his mouth away from her plush breasts.

He crooked a brow at her insistence, injecting a low timbre in his voice he knew drove Elain wild. “Yes?”

Her only answer was another soft whine as he pointedly rolled into her dripping folds again, her own hand still wrapped around his cock adding to the friction.

He gazed down at her, a smug grin blooming across his lips at the desperation he saw leaching from her. Her chocolate brown eyes smouldered and she all but trembled with want, his hips pinning her resolutely beneath him.

He watched the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly, the way her nipples had turned a bright pink from his ministrations, how her kiss-swollen lips parted as her breath panted out before her. She gazed at him how a hungry beast may observe its prey, and he knew that same desire was reflected in his own eyes. Stooping down for one last peck to the little dip between her collarbones, he settled onto his forearms, pressing his chest flush against hers.

Sensing her small hands fumble to line up his cock at her needy entrance, Elain exhaled contentedly, eyes beautifully fluttering into the back of her skull as he began to sink slowly into her.

So soft. She was always so fucking soft, and tight and warm for him. And wet. She was so fucking wet.

He shuddered above her, pausing halfway, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion before he continued. Biting her lip, she slung her arms over his shoulders once more and urged him onwards with a small tilt of her hips, imploring him to go deeper. Silently begging him for more.

Rolling his hips into hers, she cried out as he finally pushed all the way in, her slickened walls enveloping him deliciously as she trembled beneath him. She looked up at him with that burning desire they both felt so acutely written across her face, her teeth sensually sinking into her plush bottom lip. She all but begged him to move, her eyes expressing everything she needn’t voice.

Pressing a kiss to her jaw, her neck, behind her ear, he nuzzled his face into her silken hair as he started to move.

Rocking in and out of her slowly, he lengthened his strokes, feeling her clench deliciously around him with each pass. Her arms came to wrap around his middle and her nails scraped down his shoulder blades, a sure sign that Elain was holding herself back from tumbling over that edge too soon. He knew she wanted him to come with her. Knew she loved it when they found their pleasure simultaneously in a puddle of heaving chests and garbled pleas. He’d let her have it, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

Edging their way ever closer to their pleasure, he continued to plunge impossibly deeper into her, over and over, the feeling of her delicate muscles beginning to flutter around him. Their chests had grown slick with sweat causing them to slide against each other with each stroke, only adding to the debauched eroticism. Knowing she loved the stimulation to her nipples, loved his weight atop her, he pressed her more firmly into the mattress beneath them as he continued fucking into her.

“God— Az!”

It was a desperate, reverent plea, her fingernails scraping down the skin of his back leaving red marks in their wake.

Elain attempted to clasp her knees together, her taught thighs pressing into his sides as he continued to drive into her wet heat. Pulling his face from its resting place nuzzled against her neck, he lay his forehead against hers.

Their hot breathes mingled in the space between them, gasps and moans falling from their lips as Azriel drove into her over and over, as deep as he could possibly go. Nudging that elusive knot of nerves he knew would have Elain seeing stars with every drive of his pelvis, a small cry bubbled from between her lips, her fingertips digging into his muscled back as he pounded into her.

Feeling his own orgasm looming, he swiped his tongue into her mouth, catching the whimpers and cries she let loose like they sustained his very lifeblood.

Trying and failing to hold his composure, his movements grew sloppy and frantic as they both hurtled toward their climax, their bodies slamming together and edging ever closer to that summit. His head emptied of all other thoughts but Elain, Elain, Elain; and with one final, heavy thrust, she cried out, her face twisting into a pageant of pleasure.

Her hands clutched frantically at his biceps as she came around his cock, her breath catching in her throat as her plump lips opened into a pretty O. The sounds of her orgasm reached their crescendo, and only moments passed before Azriel was following closely behind.

With a stuttered grunt and an echo of her name he spilled into her, her folds fluttering around his shaft, her tight inner muscles heightening his pleasure.

His mind short-circuited in his bliss, but he focused on the feel of her flushed breasts pressed beneath him, their mingled releases dribbling around him, her breath fanning across his sweaty face. Elain. He could never fucking get enough.

They remained tangled around one another and panting. Brown and hazel eyes screwed shut, but parted lips softly grazing the others’ as he sloppily rocked them through the final throes of their pleasure.

Azriel’s arms gave way as he slumped heavily into Elain’s embrace, her tense muscles now softening and turning pliant once more. She glistened with sweat, the golden-brown hair at her temples curling against her glowing skin.

His mind had gone blank. Utterly quiet in the wake of his climax. All except for one thought that emerged from the heady fog: this.

This. This. This.

This is how he wanted to spend all his days. With her. Irretrievably intertwined in each other. Warm, safe, peaceful. In their own little haven of quiet understanding and unbridled desire. The way she understood him, saw him, without the need of any unnecessary words.

Yes, this was fucking it. He’d never be able to go back to life without her.

As the haze of passion cleared, he became conscious of his entire bulky frame completely smothering his tiny girlfriend beneath him. Fuck, he was probably crushing her lungs.

Pressing a chaste kiss to the hollow of her throat he attempted to pull their sweat-slicked bodies apart, but she only mumbled something that sounded like not yet and pulled him soundly back on top of her, wrapping her legs securely around his waist to hold him in place.

Ok then, he wasn’t going to argue.

Instead, Azriel just smiled into her neck, gently brushing the hair away from her face as he murmured into her skin, “Love you, too.”

She only hugged him tighter.

*******

A special thanks to @tswaney17 for helping me pull this out of the trash💚

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#elriel month 2023 #t writes #elriel #elriel fic #prompt six: words unspoken #acotar #elain x azriel #elriel month #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #secret dating modern au #elriel smut #smut

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kingofsummer93 · 11 months

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Northern Lights in Our Skies

Summary:

Two years after the war with Hybern, a looming conflict once again threatens Prythian's fragile peace. With the safety of the human lands at risk, Elain jumps at the opportunity to act as emissary to a distant, mysterious realm.

That she will get to expand her horizons along the way is a bonus she'll gladly take.

That she'll have to do so while masquerading as Lucien Vanserra's wife, on the other hand, is something she'll need some getting used to.

Ao3 | Masterlist

Chapter 2

Lucien could feel the eyes of the assembled High Lords and their delegations on him as he was escorted to one of the plush couches arranged around the courtyard. He had to give Helion credit- for a male known for his extravagance, this gathering was downright demure. If one ignored the peacocks and flamingos prancing in the background, that is.

He was well aware what kind of message his arrival was sending. Everybody gathered would note the Spring Court sigil embroidered on his tunic, if the presence of Bron and Hart flanking him hadn’t been clear enough. He felt the cold chill of talons scraping at his consciousness even before he heard the voice inside his mind.

Nice entrance, Rhysand drawled. Those colors look good on you.

Lucien bit down on the urge to snort. You mean the colors of the court where you stationed me permanently? I’m so glad.

Even from across the space he saw Rhysand’s eyes flash in warning. Lucien ignored it, turning towards the other High Lords.

Honestly, though, had he expected that he’d show up in Night Court black, like the rest of them? Knowing Rhysand, Lucien had no doubt that he had. Arrogant, self-serving prick.

It was an effort to keep from staring at Elain, the source of that familiar tugging in his chest. She looked thoroughly wrong in her black gown, and more than a little uncomfortable. Lucien had no doubt that her wardrobe choices hadn’t been left in her hands.

There had been a moment, as he’d entered and their gazes had locked…But no- he couldn’t go down that path. Whenever he was around her he never failed to convince himself that he had glimpsed a brief flash of longing in her gaze, or felt a flash of some emotion through the bond. But then she would look away, leave the room, shrink away from him as she always did. It was all in his head, of course.

“Thank you for accommodating the meeting so I could attend,” Vassa was saying from her perch on the couch next to him.

“And thank you for agreeing to the meeting,” Lucien added.

Helion’s amber eyes were sharp and inquisitive, though his demeanor was relaxed- no trace of the swaggering persona he had put on Under the Mountain. Times were changing, he supposed. Now he just had to convince them to adapt even more with the times.

“I have to say,” Helion started, propping a sandaled foot on his knee, “I’m very curious why a human Queen and her general would have any interest in trade practices within the solar courts.”

It was Thesan who added, “Or why Night Court’s emissary and liaison to the Spring Court and human realm would be the one to call such a meeting.”

All eyes swiveled to Rhysand and Feyre, whose careful expressions revealed nothing.

“We are not here to discuss trade,” Lucien said simply. Carefully- he had to tread so carefully, or the meeting could go south in a matter of minutes.

“Well, I sure hope not,” Helion exclaimed. “I was hoping for something more exciting.”

Lucien clamped down on his irritation. Clamped down even more firmly on that foreign power that thrummed in his veins, mingling with his mother’s flame. It was normally easy enough to control, but here, in this city, it itched like something was trying to crawl its way out of his skin. Like that light knew it had come home.

Home. What a foreign, laughable concept for someone like him.

The first time that light had manifested he hadn’t known what it was. He’d asked Eris, and his older brother’s horror had been so uncharacteristic that he’d listened to his order to never let that power be seen.

He had listened to it even as the rumors inevitably reached his ears- of the male his mother had met at a ball, and waited for. Had listened to it even as he had met that male, newly crowned High Lord, Under the Mountain. The question that he’d been asking himself his entire centuries-long life had been answered with one look at that face.

The face belonging to the male who had, very probably, sired him. The male who currently peered at him shrewdly, a touch of condescension -or perhaps simply animosity- in his intelligent amber eyes.

Was it because he reminded the male of Beron? Lucien hoped so, and that in the process he reminded Helion of the horrors he had doomed his mother to, by abandoning her to that monster. It was what he deserved. Whether or not Helion knew that Beron was not his father was not something Lucien liked to consider. It was of no consequence, anyway. Just one more credential to add to his resume as exile and vagabond. Another Court he would never belong to.

Lucien cleared his throat. “As you’re all aware, the Spring Court has been…struggling to rebuild, after the war.” He was careful not to glance at Feyre as he said it, though every other head in the courtyard swiveled towards her. As if everyone was well aware of what had truly wrecked the Spring Court.

“And where is Tamlin?” Helion asked curiously, an asp’s smile curling on his lips. “Is he so busy that he couldn’t manage to fit this meeting into his schedule?”

“Or are you officially the new self-appointed High Lord of Spring now?” Thesan asked casually.

Lucien tensed as he noted the way Feyre and Rhysand looked at him sharply. Words meant in jest, Lucien knew- but double edged nonetheless. As all words were in these sorts of negotiations.

The self-appointed High Lord of Spring. It was an inside joke of sorts, dating back to the days when Thesan had been the High Lord’s son and his emissary to the seasonal courts. Thesan had been an equal then- as reluctant as Lucien was to climb his way to the crown, despite being qualified for it. Ironic that it had arrived on his head anyway.

“Tamlin is unwell,” Lucien said simply. “He sends his apologies.” A snort from Helion. Lucien ignored him, soldiering on before anyone could interrupt. “Autumn’s forces have been sniffing at the Spring Court borders for nearly a year now. We have secured intel that has led us to believe that Beron is at last poised to strike.”

A heavy silence, broken only by the squawking of the birds.

“And why come to the solar courts for aid,” Helion said with a frown, “and not the courts who share borders with Spring and Autumn?”

“Summer is still recovering from the war-“

“As we all are,” Thesan cut in, with a glance over his shoulder to his captain.

“Of course,” Rhysand said smoothly. “Nobody is insinuating otherwise. That doesn’t excuse standing back while a court threatens to overtake another for the first time since their inception.”

“And what good would come of aiding the Spring Court, if there is no High Lord there to lead it?” Helion asked, with deadly calmness. Dangerous. He was dangerous, this male that his mother had tangled with in one way or another. “Unless,” he continued, “as Thesan implies, another High Lord has indeed come to power in the Spring Court?”

Another silence, as everyone assembled, servants included, looked at him. Lucien could have sworn even the birds stopped in their tracks to look.

And then- a scrape of talons, but gentler than the first. A question.

Where is Tamlin? Feyre’s voice slipped into his mind.

His fist clenched in his lap. Off roaming his lands as a horned beast.

Tamlin’s presence-or absence- from the manor was as random as a roll of a dice, these days. He might have been embarrassed about it a few months ago, but at this point he was beyond caring.

“I have never wished or aspired to be High Lord. Of anywhere.” Lucien kept his gaze on the High Lord of Day, smirking as the slightest wince crossed those features that were so like his own.

“Then the Spring Court is left in a power vacuum,” Helion said simply. “What else did you expect? If Tamlin is in no state to govern his own people, then at some point someone was going to step in and do it. What happens after we push back Beron’s armies? We wait for someone else to swoop in again?”

“I don’t understand,” another voice joined the fray. It was Nesta, arms crossed over her chest, looking not the slightest bit intimidated to be speaking in front of the assembled High Lords. “Can’t someone just go to Autumn and tell Beron to back off?” She turned to him, those blue eyes that were so like Feyre’s narrowing slightly. “Isn’t that your family? Can’t you go and talk to them?”

“One does not simply walk in and out of Autumn,” Lucien responded through gritted teeth. “High Lords included.”

“But you did,” the viper continued.

Everybody visibly stiffened. Lucien saw Cassian’s eyes grow wide as he not-so-subtly shook his head at Nesta. A low buzzing started ringing in Lucien’s ears, the familiar, ancient grief that he wore like a cloak rising to the surface like a tidal wave.

“Are you under the impression that I walked out of Autumn because I felt like experiencing a new climate?” he demanded, unable to leash his temper.

His gaze slid to Elain, who was blinking at him in shock. How much did she know about his past? He’d never dared ask Feyre how much she’d shared of his history. Had never decided how much he wanted her to know.

Fuck it.

He turned back to Nesta, whose mouth was opening and closing, as if she was fighting the instinct to snap back at him. “I escaped from Autumn running for my life while three of my brothers chased me with the intention of killing me.” He paused, his next words catching in his throat. The low buzzing grew to a roar, his vision going red- not with anger but with blood. Her blood, so much blood, dripping onto the polished hardwood floors of his father’s throne room…

Those gentle talons were tapping at his mind again, at the same time as Vassa’s hand squeezed his knee. From behind him he felt Bron and Hart move in closer. He might not have a court to call home, but he did have friends, whatever motley crew they might be. Feeling them close rank around him dimmed the roaring in his ears, if only slightly.

“Just in case anyone here has forgotten why I left in the first place, let me remind you what kind of male Beron is.” He swallowed thickly, clenching his fists to hide his shaking fingers. “Let me remind you that my father murdered the female I loved for having the audacity to not be born a High Fae, while three of my brothers held me down so I could watch.”

A sharp, feminine gasp, followed by a lurching sensation in his chest. Like a sharp tug directly over his heart. He couldn’t help but look at her then, and he instantly wished he hadn’t said anything at all. Her face was ashen, a hand clapped over her mouth in horror.

So she hadn’t known, then. That answered that question.

“That is what Beron is capable of,” Lucien continued, his voice slightly unsteady. “That is who we’re dealing with. That is the sort of cruelty that we’ll be spreading if we do not band together and stop him.”

There was another beat of silence.

“The future of the Spring Court is not the only concern here,” Feyre stepped in. “Our sources informs us that Beron doesn’t plan on simply pushing south into Spring.”

“How does he plan to do it?” Thesan’s captain spoke for the first time, his handsome features sharp with calculation.

“He plans to take over the coastal human territories on the continent first,” Cassian replied, arms crossed, “before sacking the humans lands to the south, effectively caging in Spring and making it more difficult for aid to arrive.”

“The human territories on the continent are now ruled by queens who have no desire or use for an alliance with the fae,” Thesan mused. “Will they even be receptive to our help, should we offer it?”

“When they face down a fae armada you might find their tune will change rather quickly,” Vassa spat with venom. “The fae territories on the continent ignored your call during the war with Hybern, and it’s no secret they’ve been sniffing at their own borders. They will do nothing to stop an invading Autumn army. If anything, it might give them ideas of their own. No humans will be safe, and we will have achieved the exact opposite of what bringing down the wall was meant to signify. Who will be next? Bharat? And who will come to help them? We need to put an end to this before it starts or there will be no stopping it!”

The courtyard fell silent once more in the wake of Vassa’s impassioned speech. The voice that eventually broke the silence was not the one Lucien had expected.

“Bharat!” Elain’s head was cocked to the side in contemplation, as if she had just realized something.

“Bharat is a wealthy, fiercely independent human empire on the continent,” Vassa said, mistaking Elain’s expression for confusion.

“I know,” Elain snapped, waving her hand in frustration. Lucien felt Vassa tense next to him at the unusual show of emotion from his mate. “My father had ties to Bharat,” she continued. “He told us stories about it when we were little.”

“They have a large army,” Feyre said, brightening. “If help came from a neighboring human territory, there might not be any need to dispatch any of our forces. We could rally here, and ambush Beron’s armada upon his return.”

The wheels in Lucien’s head started spinning. He had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea, except-

“Except for the fact that Bharat has been hiding behind its city walls for the past five centuries,” Vassa said dismissively. “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. Even the queens have no influence there.”

“Perhaps we’ll need to be persuasive, then,” Lucien replied. “Make it clear to them that if the coastal lands fall, they’ll be next. And it might not be only one but multiple fae armies knocking on their doorstep.”

“Are you volunteering for the job?” Rhysand asked with a hint of a smile.

All heads swiveled to look at him. Prythian’s errand boy once more, Lucien thought. Still, the resentment was secondary to the call of adventure, that restlessness that had plagued him during all those idle years at the Spring Court. The urge to do something, go somewhere.

“I would be glad to go,” he started cautiously. “But I worry my reception might not be a warm one. Bharat used to be under fae control centuries ago, and no doubt they remain wary of them still. They might think we’re setting them up in a trap. Or they might refuse to meet with me entirely.”

“I could accompany you,” Jurian suggested.

“Somehow I think a man who was resuscitated from a single bone and eyeball would be even less warmly welcomed than a fae,” Vassa retorted drily.

Squabbling erupted from every corner of the courtyard. But then a voice broke through, speaking words that Lucien never would have expected to hear.

“What if I went with you?”

---

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Elain regretted them. Had she even meant to say that out loud?

Bharat. Just hearing the name of the distant territory filled her with a mixture of emotions. A dull grief, at the memories of her mother it brought forth, and a fresher kind at the thought of her father. And yet, neither were enough to dull the curiosity that seemed to sniff at the air like an animal woken up from a slumber.

Her father had spoken of sprawling, sand-swept palaces, city streets filled with vendors trading everything from intricately woven carpets, to spices, to all manners of jewels and finery. A wealthy, prosperous people cut off from the rest of the world by treacherous waters and a notoriously impregnable wall that was as much a fortress as it was a symbol of their independence.

Did those people know how easily that seemingly unbreakable wall would come crumbling down if a fae army decided to set its sight on the lush lands that lay inside?

Elain didn’t know how much help she would even be, given her own humanity had drowned in that cauldron two years previously. Her father had been successful, but would his name mean anything, or hold any clout?

Besides, there was another problem. A problem whose fiery, mismatched gaze bore into her, eyes both natural and magical wide with disbelief. Had she temporarily lost her mind? Perhaps she was getting heat stroke from a combination of her too-warm dress and the lingering heat of the day. Traveling to the continent with him? Her sisters would never allow it. And besides, did she truly think herself capable of doing such a thing, when two minutes in the same room with him felt unbearable?

Elain was suddenly all too aware of the bickering dying down as everyone turned to stare at her.

“What?” Nesta demanded, scoffing. “What are you talking about?”

Elain lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet Lucien’s shocked gaze. As their eyes met the bond squeezed in her chest, as it always did when she looked at him. This was why she could never look at him for too long- the magnetic pull that urged her towards him was that much more difficult to ignore when she acknowledged him.

Which was why she must have truly lost her mind, to suggest what she just had.

“Our father had ties to Bharat,” she started, clasping her hands together to hide her shaking fingers. She could work a roomful of human courtiers with little to no effort, but this was an entirely different situation. “He had connections, from the trades he made as a merchant. I’m not sure how much influence his name still holds, but-”

“You’re right,” Feyre cut in gently. Elain’s heart stuttered in shock. Had it been that easy to convince her sister? “They might not trust the fae, but our name might at least get our message in the right hands. I can give Lucien a signed letter.”

“No offense,” Jurian drawled, “But if Bharat has managed to not give two shits about the rest of the world for as long as they have, a signed letter isn’t going to change their minds.”

“Besides,” Elain said, before either of her sisters could retort, “a Made fae is not the same as a High Lady. I might come across as less…intimidating.” She chose her words carefully, watching as Feyre sat up slightly straighter at the compliment, however calculated it had been.

“You can’t be serious about this.” Nesta’s face was incredulous. “Elain, do you understand how dangerous-”

“She is not going,” Azriel said flatly. His voice was dangerously low, a tone she had overheard him use with others but never with her.

It should have made her nervous, but it only stoked her temper. She is not going. As if she wasn’t standing directly in front of him. Elain whirled on him.

“And why would that be your decision?” she demanded. “And besides, I thought you usually preferred to wait until I leave the room to declare that I shouldn’t do something?”

Azriel recoiled slightly, his usually carefully neutral facade betraying his surprise as he blinked at her. “There is a darkness to the trove that Elain shouldn’t be exposed to.”

Elain hadn’t meant to spy on them, that day- it was more that sometimes she forgot how keen her senses had become, now that she was fae. That, and the fact that nobody usually bothered to check whether she was around or not.

She had thought Azriel’s words chivalrous at first, endearing, even. But now she saw them for what they were- an overprotective urge, a tendency to smother her, the way her sisters did. Fragile, beautiful, gentle Elain should not be exposed to such things, or she might break. It was the same reason Azriel had never explained to her what being spymaster for Rhysand entailed, even though she had asked. No doubt he didn’t think she could handle that, either.

Elain felt a flicker of some emotion flowing into her veins from the golden cord in her chest. A burst of surprised delight or amusement. She turned back to Lucien, flushing as she realized he had not yet spoken. Her heart sank as she prepared herself for the pained, guarded expression she usually found on his face when he looked at her, but instead a half smile played on his lips, his eyes calculating.

“It might not be a bad idea,” he said carefully. “Not just because of your father’s connections, but also because…” he trailed off, his golden complexion growing pink.

“Because what?” Nesta spat.

“Because they’re mates.” Rhys’ voice was contemplative, devoid of his usual humor. “What better way to convince them of our desire to promote goodwill between humans and fae?”

Lucien’s flush deepened. His eyes caught hers again, and he winced, his gaze turning apologetic. There it is, she thought wryly.

“Then send me and Cassian!” Nesta said angrily.

Helion chuckled, smiling broadly as if he was very much enjoying the unfolding drama. “No offense, but I think if diplomacy is what we’re going for, Lucien is the better choice.”

“I agree,” Rhysand said simply.

Out of the corner of her eye Elain saw Azriel turn to his brother, his anger so palpable he was practically vibrating with it. “You cannot honestly be on board with this!”

“I think it would be a disrespect to Elain to assume that she doesn’t have her own set of social and diplomatic skills necessary to pull this off,” Rhys retorted, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

It was Elain’s turn to blink in surprise. She’d never heard her brother-in-law say anything like that about her before.

“And it would be a disrespect to me to assume I would ever let my mate come to harm,” Lucien snarled.

Territorial fae male bullshit, Elain thought with an eye-roll, even as some small part of her delighted in the reaction. She told herself it was simply relief at the fact that he hadn’t said no yet. Her heart sped up as she realized that she might very well be able to pull this off. She’d stress about the logistics later. Perhaps she’d even come to regret it, but for now she’d take the win.

“Elain,” Feyre said gently. “Are you sure about this? It’s going to be dangerous- regardless of who you’re with,” she added with a pointed glare in Lucien’s direction. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“This isn’t a family matter,” Elain replied, meeting her sister’s concerned gaze. “It’s a political one that concerns our allies as well.”

Another flicker of amused delight. What was it that Lucien found so amusing, she wondered? Perhaps he simply thought the entire idea comical.

“This is all very well,” Thesan said, looking almost as amused as Helion, “but it’s not exactly a secret that you and Lucien aren’t…together.” The amusement fizzled, as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “It’s not exactly every day that three human sisters get Made into fae, and all three end up having fae mates. What happens if the stories have reached their shores? What good is our symbol of unity then? You won’t be taken seriously.”

Elain had no answer for that- and neither, judging from his silence, did Lucien.

Helion leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “Then perhaps I need to host a wedding!”

Taglist: @elucienweekofficial @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @corcracrow @autumndreaming7 @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @vulpes-fennec @sunshinebingo @asnowfern @hallway5 @thelovelymadone @screaming-opossum

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 5 months

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Pro Nesta rant

You're telling me that Nesta, proud as a peacock Nesta who once told Feyre:

'... you're a burden.'

'What do you know?... You're just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday- someday, Feyre, you'll have no-one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed."

(ACOTAR p.19)

You expect me to believe that after she was finished telling Feyre that she's not worth shit, she's going to go ahead and continue to rely solely on Feyre for money, food, and everything else they need for survival? Nah, I don't buy it.

The amount of pride this girl has tells me that she WOULD NOT allow this to happen. She'd probably rather die than contradict herself, and she'd probably rather die than have Feyre see that she's finally bringing herself down to her level by actually doing visible work, SO

Did Nesta contribute in the cottage?

We already know that Feyre is an unreliable narrator who doesn't value traditionally feminine roles, so anything that Nesta did around the cottage most likely wasn't even seen as a real contribution in Feyre's eyes.

Feyre, self admittedly can't cook, and yet how were they able to eat for the past eight or so years before she learned how to hunt and cure meat? Their father? I don't think so. I think it was a joint effort between Nesta and Elain, this seems the most likely.

Also, unless all of the Archeron sisters didn't grow at all in the last eight years, how did they all have appropriately sized clothes to wear? I doubt they had the money to buy three new sets of clothes every year, so that means that someone needed to take over the job of mending hand me downs and making sure that they fit. Again, was it Feyre? I doubt that. Their father? I really doubt that. Again, the job falls to Nesta and Elain, the two sisters who would have been taught by their mother traditionally lady-like tasks such as sewing.

That's just general contributions/ chores around the cottage, if she'd wanted to make some money, that leaves jobs that she could do during the day whilst Feyre is off hunting, such as:

Tutoring: We already know that she enjoys reading, and was highly educated by her mother and grandmother when they were alive. She could have tutored the children of the village during the day and come home in the afternoon, just in time to keep up her façade of not giving a shit for Feyre.

Embroidery/ sewing/ laundry: This comes with the lady-of-the-house education that Nesta would have received. She could have done the mending for the women of the village, or been commissioned to embroider little things on their clothes and linen, or even to make clothes/ quilts for the villagers. She would also be able to easily hide her projects/ commissions away in a basket or something that would be completely overlooked by Feyre.

Elain's flower garden: There are tonnes of flowers with medicinal properties that could be dried and sold to apothecaries for remedies, or even made into home remedies and sold straight from the cottage.

With the money earned from these jobs, she could buy food, candles, needles and thread, soap, etc etc, and just spend Feyre's 'breadwinner' money on frivolous things.

tl;dr, I find it hard to believe that Nesta simply sat on her ass for eight years and constantly belittled and bullied Feyre pretty much every single day just to rely wholly on her for her own survival. She absolutely did shit around the cottage, she just kept it a secret so that she could keep her pride.

#pro nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta archeron

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shadowqueenjude · 4 months

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Well fuck. I've done this to myself by thinking about Lucien and Krishna similarities. I now want Lucien to walk around with a little peacock feather on his head and own a bunch of cows. Just imagine though: Lucien shirtless milking a cow or delivering a little cow baby and Elain is all "damn he's so good with animals😍" but we all know she's really staring at his abs the whole time.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien

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aliypop · 4 months

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Pocket Full Of Rainbows

Word Count: 2,445

Writers Note: I wanted to expand more on Elaine and Elvis

Warning: Slight Homophobia (Not from Elvis)

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis / Oc Kid x Father Elvis

Summary: In 1974 Las Vegas is booming with Elvis yet again, with his twins at the concerts for the first time, but things get a bit Queer When Elvis, Cecelia, and Jessie start noticing something different about Elaine.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

Las Vegas 1974

"You come here often?" The waiter said to Elaine. He was 16 years old, cute, had a job, and what any girl her age would rave over. Elvis had nudged Cecelia in hopes that their late-blooming daughter was finally into boys. Jessie knew that joy wouldn't last. Elaine was always awkward with men. She'd start talking about comics or science. Or something to throw them off, "No, but my parents do..." Elaine rolled her eyes at the boy as he kept trying,

"Your parents must be rich." Elaine smiled, trying her hardest to be nice, but she had that same aggravated face that both her parents made after a long night of shows.

"Well, I'm a Presley, if you couldn't tell with them sitting here..."

"You're being shy, aren't you..."

"Buddy, she just doesn't like ya'," Jessie said as Elvis and Cecelia tried to hold out their laughs,

"And who are you?"

"Her brother, now leave her alone, please." Jessie smiled as she was released,

"So you two liking Vegas much?" Elvis asked, eating his dinner with his own silverware.

"Yeah, I was thinking of seeing the showgirls..." Jessie smirked as Elvis laughed,

"Jessie Vernon Presley, you're 13," Jessie gulped. He could feel the glare in his mother's voice, "But Mama, I'm not gonna do anything stupid." he smirked at his father, which meant he was going to do something stupid, "Right Elaine... Elaine..."

Elaine had her sights on a redheaded showgirl. She looked about 16. and a work of art. Her feathers sat on her head like a lovely peacock, and her makeup was beautiful. Her eyes were an emerald green, and she was looking back at "Elaine? Somethins got your attention?"

"I-I-I was just, uh, looking at her costume." She gulped,

"Right, you were..."Jessie said. As Elaine kicked him under the table, the two bickering

"Hey, you two, stop it!" Cecelia sighed, "Your father and I have had a long night, and it's only gonna get longer with a midnight show!"

"Sorry, mama..."

"How's everyone's food?" a waitress in her early twenties came by. Elaine couldn't take her eyes off her. She was like Wonder Woman, "You're great I-I mean, it's great, uh..." Elaine got embarrassed as Elvis and Cecelia were a bit suspicious,

"Tone it down, E..." Jessie said, "The Eagle an Dove are catchin' on."

"The soup is amazing..." Elaine smiled. After dinner, Elvis and Cecelia went to their suite to get dressed as Jessie and Elaine went to explore The International Hotel,

"Elaine's been actin' funny lately..."Elvis mentioned as Cecelia helped him put on his necklace.

"I don't know when I was her age. I wasn't

much of a flirt either." She shrugged, "I mean, I couldn't tell if a guy was even flirting." She laughed as Elvis looked at her. All his life with Cecelia, he knew her to be a flirt.

"I don't know... When she's around girls, she gets all red and shy."

"Honey," Cecelia glanced at him,

"I know... That's how I get when I'm around you, all red and shy like a little baby." He laughed as she kissed his cheeks,

"Is that so..." She blushed,

"Always is." He pulled her in front of his slightly fuller frame. His face was a bit rounder than it used to be, but Cecelia loved him just the same.

"You don't think Elaine's hiding something, do you?" Elvis glanced down at his wife,

"E, you're gonna have to tell 'em, you're..."

"I'm what Jessie..." she glared at her brother, the two walking past the casino,

"A Cherry chaser."

SMACK!

"Ouch!" Jessie groaned, rolling his eyes, "The hell was that for!"

"That's a rude thing to say!" She grumbled, walking away from her brother,

"Hey, hey, hey, no disrespect, sis, I like girls too," He smiled as she tried to glare at her brother, but she couldn't help that he meant well, even if he was stupid,

"Awe, boys, Ruby doesn't wanna play with us !" a man said, attacking the showgirl from earlier, "She must be a muff diver or something..." A guy shoved her. The girl looked scared. She looked like she wanted to cry. Trying her best to walk past, "Probably under that makeup, she's a dyke..."

"HEY LEAVE HER ALONE!" Elaine shouted as Jessie sighed. If there was one thing he knew about Elaine, she learned all there was to fight from their father's movies, so if anything, this would look like a fight from Blue Hawaii.

"What, you her girlfriend or something!" The one man said, pushing Elaine. There was the feistiness of Cecelia in her eyes and the fieriness of Elvis in her fist. Drawing her hand back, she punched the man in his eye as Jessie jumped in to stop the other from trying anything. Jessie took Karate with Elvis cause it was a father-son bonding time activity, but did it come in handy.

"Are you okay..."

"Ruby..." The girl said,

"Pretty name." Jessie blushed as Elaine sighed. She'd definitely lose this battle. Jessie kissed her hand as the showgirl pulled it back,

"Thanks for saving me, uh..."

"Elaine Marie Love Presley." She winked, pushing her hair back. She hadn't noticed Ruby blushing, but Jessie did,

"Presley as in..."

"Caught in a trap... I can't walk out~"

"Yeah, as in the two playing in the theater." Elaine smiled, "You maybe wanna meet em?"

"In these clothes..."

"You get changed. Meet us back here." She smirked,

"Okay." She smirked, her perfume gliding by them both as they sighed happily,

"Good going, sis."

"What did I do?"

"Got yourself a..." He trailed off as he saw a few teenage girls walk by, "Talk about a thousand pretty women waiting out there..."

"Yeah, for you." She said as he laughed,

"Good luck on your date, and don't forget you gotta tell 'em."

Elaine didn't know how to. She knew her mother and father. They'd love her, but they were traditional and very religious. Elaine and Jessie hadn't missed church or a church equivalence since she could remember. She knew they'd tell her. She'd be in a world of ruin and a first-class trip to hell, but she liked girls, and she tried so hard to get the rhythm of boys, but it wasn't her guitar to play.

"I hope this isn't a lot..." Ruby said she was out of her makeup and wig, and she had on a dress and flowers in her hair,

"You look perfect," Elaine said, walking towards the stage door, their hands brushing against each other,

Graceland 1974

"Well, since my Ruby left me... I found a new place to dwell. It's right at the end of lonely street. Vegas is where it dwells and-" Elaine began to sing as she strummed her guitar. Elaine had been silently going through a breakup with Ruby, who only found her attractive because she was the daughter of Elvis and Cecelia. They had exchanged secret letters and phone calls, or at least she thought,

"Hey, uh, me and my friends are gonna rehearse if you wanna maybe join us?" Jessie offered. He hated seeing Elaine like this,

"No thanks..."

"Estella's gonna be there..."

"Well, now that you add..." She jolted out of her bed and did her hair. Elaine had a big crush on Estella. She was the definition of cool. Blonde short hair, her blue eyes, her freckles, her Tupelo accent, and her skateboard.

"I found letters in Elaine's room," Elvis said as Rising Sun was beside Lightning Bolt, Cecelia's horse. "Elvis..." She looked at her husband as he sighed, "You go snoopin. You'll find what you're lookin for," She said as he nodded. Elvis was getting worried, Elaine was being more distant lately, and she was short when they'd both ask her about school crushes, "I know, but she's hiding somethin. I don't know what, but damnit! I thought we'd be good parents where they can trust in us, you know!" Elvis was getting angry as Cecelia stopped her horse to walk over to him,

"The twins are 13. They're going through teenage angst." She added,

"But honey..."

"Honeybutter..." She squished his cheeks, "We're great parents, or at least as great as we can be. They're fed, loved, clothed, loved, taken care of, loved, listened to, loved," She kissed him as Elaine saw them. There was a pit in her stomach as she knew she'd never get that joy,

"So... Elaine..."

"Yes, Estella?" Her heart began to pound as she looked up at her,

"Jessie tells me you play guitar. And you sing a little." She smiled as Elaine nodded, the prettiest masculine girl she'd ever seen, "Y-Yeah, I do... I mean, my parents are singers, so it runs in the family and-" Estella gave her a peck on the cheek, and Elaine turned red, holding her cheek,

"Was I ramblin..."

"A little, I think it's cute."

"I think you're cute!" She blurted out as Estella blushed. She looked like a strawberry, "Unless you know this isn't your thing, and I'm assuming, and maybe I'm just being stupid an-" Estella leaned in and kissed her quick,

"HEY TUPELO!"

"WHAT, JP!"

"WE'RE STARTIN!"

"You're red?" Elvis looked at his daughter as she blushed even more, "I-I have a fever!" she nodded, "I don't feel good..."

"So then Tupelo says. I'm playing the chords wrong!" Jessie rolled his eyes as Elvis and Cecelia laughed, "Like it's my mama's song, I'd never play it wrong!" He said as Elaine looked at him,

"Maybe she's right..."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Oh yeah, you're agreeing with her 'cause she kissed you!" Jessie shouted as he soon after realized what he'd done,

"She kissed you?" Elvis and Cecelia said in unison

"Ellie, i'm so-"

"Yes! She did, I-I..." There was a pit in her stomach, but she couldn't turn back now. The cat would be soon out of the bag, but it needed to be, "Mama... Daddy, I like girls..." Elaine said the room was filled with silence as she sighed,

"Elaine, you're only 13 years old. You don't know what you like!?" Elvis said, his fist on the table as she glared at him,

"You two, calm down!" Cecelia said, "Elaine, please explain why you think this is..."

"Well, I really knew when I was 12. That I didn't like boys like the girls in my class did. I can talk to them as friends, but... I-" Elvis shook his head. He was confused as to how this happened, how he and Cecelia managed to miss the signs.

"You what... saw a girl, thought guess I'll try that!"Elvis interjected,

"I thought she was pretty, and today she kissed me! and-" Elaine cried as she ran off to her bedroom,

"We're not done with this!" Elvis grumbled,

"I'll talk to her." Jessie followed his sister,

"Elvis Aaron Presley!" Elvis was in the dog house when his wife used his full name, his blue eyes looking at her desperation. He didn't mean to upset his baby girl, "I know I gotta make it right." He sighed,

"Not till you tell me about your outburst..."

"Cece..."

"Elvis..." Her brows furrowed,

"Alright, fine, I don't want her gettin hurt out there... People ain't gonna accept her, and they'll say mean things or-or take advantage or-"

"I don't know if you noticed Elvis, but we weren't socially accepted either..." Cecelia laughed,

"Cause our music..."

"Cause of our love," She kissed his forehead, "I'm a little disappointed too. She won't marry a man or have grandchildren, but God told us to love one another. And that's our baby. She needs our support more than anyone."

"But..."

"Ah...Ah, she's already got it rough, being she and her brother are mixed, but she's Presley tough," She said as Elvis sighed,

"I need to think,"

Elaine was sobbing into her pillow when she heard a soft knock on the door,

"Little pumpkin..."

"Mama..."

"Can we talk?"

"Okay..." Cecelia sat on her bed, "Is Daddy mad at me..."

"No, he could never be. He loves you. It's just this surprised us both,"

"I'm sorry it's-"

"No need to be sorry, honey muffin. Can I tell you a story?" Elaine nodded as she laid her head in her mother's lap. "There was a girl who fell in love with an incredible boy back in 54. They were inseparable, but society didn't exactly like that."

"Why..."

"Well she was black, and he was white."

"Did they stop loving each other?" Elaine asked as Cecelia softly combed through ther hair, "No, They fought to be seen together, to love loud together," Cecelia swooned,

"Did they win?!"

"Well, Christmas, we'll be together for 14 years now," Elaine gasped as she realized she was talking about her and her father,

"Well, why are you telling me this mama?"

"Cause, I know we may not understand fully why, but I do know if you like this girl. Or this lifestyle, you're gonna have to fight for your love, fight to love loud, and fight to say I'm here, I exist, and you will see me." Cecelia smiled,

"So you're not mad..."

"Not at all. After all, Aunt Midge likes women, and Uncle Richard likes men. " Cecelia laughed, "Heck, I think Ann Margaret is so pretty I'd kiss her if I could." Elaine blushed hearing that,

"I think I'll go talk to Daddy."

Elvis was outside in the meditation garden praying for guidance. He knew his daughter needed his love more than his misguided judgments. "Daddy... Can we talk?" She asked as Elvis looked up and saw her, patting a seat next to him as she sat down, "I-I know it's a lot to take in. But, it's how I was made to live and-" Elvis hugged his daughter tight, "I'm proud of you, I may not fully understand it, Little Biscuit, but I'll get around to it," He ruffled up her hair as smiled at him,

"Guess you're a true, Presle."

"Why's that, Daddy?" She looked up at him

"Cause the ladies can't resist us." He kissed her forehead,

"You're funny."

*Bonus*

"So then I told Estella. That I would go to the dance with her!" Jessie mimicked her words as Cecelia and Elvis listened, "How'd you manage that." Elvis asked, and Jessie mocked her still. Elaine curled her lip, quirked her eyebrow, and said, "I got close and said I wanna play house with you,"

Elvis and Cecelia both choked on their drinks,

"You what!?"

"It's my favorite song of Daddy and... Does it not mean you want to play house like pretend ..."

"Oh, sweetie... please keep eating before you give us gray hair early." Elvis laughed.

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #70s elvis #poc oc x elvis #coming out fanfic #cecelia valmos #elvis x oc kid

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