#lucien has whipping scars

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Do you guys ever have an idea that’s so obviously canon to you based on what has been written that you forget that it’s not technically explicitly canon?

#lucien has whipping scars #eris has back scars from beron #tamlin and rhysand are ex lovers #tamlin looks just like his father but has his mama's eyes #gwyn and azriel are mates #lucien will become high lord or high king #nesta is more powerful than rhys #tamlin has DID #tamsand #cassian is in love with mor #elain is a healer

[simmanin]

Saw a post yesterday talking about Elain seeing Lucien’s back scars from being whipped UTM and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Can you imagine getting a “Who did this to you?” moment from a female character’s POV. Perhaps Lucien gets injured on their journey to Koschei and Elain has to doctor up his back and she sees the lingering scars. Scars that even his fae healing abilities could not get rid of. How bad was the whipping if the scars still stayed years later? So Lucien briefly explains what happened. Elain soon realizes that they serve as a reminder of what he was willing to do for her sister’s survival, what he would do for a female his friend loved. For the sake of the good. To make the world a better place, even if it harmed him beyond repair.

And then Elain being so at odds with herself because of this bond that’s out of her control, she unwittingly fills up with fury she doesn’t quite understand while looking at his back. Thinking about the horrors he had to go through. She’s still afraid to show any sign of emotion towards Lucien (or anyone, for that matter), but the tips of her fingers linger on a long, pale scar as she wipes the blood away. They spread across him like ivy on stone, but vines can’t bring a building down. And in that moment, she realizes something. Torture did not turn Lucien evil, did not make him bad. Did not steal his light.

Perhaps it was just from the crackling fire, but something seemed to glow in Elain’s chest.

I think it’s time I write an Elucien fic 🦊🌷

update: I’m working on the fic now 🫡

#pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #who did this to you #acotar #pro elucien #cheesy elucien #elucien

[acourtofthought]

Sjm didn't make elucien mates and then change her mind. She knew she's going to make elriel endgame from the get go. Even when she had Lucien say, "you are my mate". If you reread the series, acosf comes of as a filler. It was Nesta's healing journey but it was also used to set some of the vital plot points for Elain's book, with Azriel. And she's not going to change the direction of such a solid overarching plot for gwynriel. GA a mediocre ship with an over done couple dynamic. And sjm doesn't have history of bending to the readers whim. As for Lucien, she's already introduced Vassa and laid the foundation of Lucien and Vassa's story. Pairing Lucien with Elain would be a waste of a great story and a great female character (Vassa). She's not going to do that. If eluciens and gwynriels think the time magazine article was a random mention of Elain and Azriel that has nothing to do with sjm or BB they are sorely mistaken.

You mean SJM thought Nesta would be with Lucien only to change her mind with how toxic they'd be together just to pair him with Elain knowing Az was her endgame? Weird.

I really enjoy how you take a journalists own words over that of the author herself.

Somehow the journalist saying that fans speculate about Az and Elain is a bigger deal to you than SJM being quoted as saying because she has it in her own life, she can write about men who are the females biggest supporter, cheering her on and supporting her growth and we then have the author herself writing it so Az gets SCOLDED for not believing in Elain.

And VASSA is a greater female character than Gwyn who became one of the first Valkryie in how many years? Yes, Vassa's many many pages of dialogue clearly prove your point. I think Vassa says a total of 10 sentences throughout the entire series.

Vassa will still be important, but as a side character in Elucien's journey as their friend who will end up with Jurian.

But you got us, E/riel is up there with the greatest love stories of all time.

ACOMAF

And Mor backed away. Step by step. "What a prize," the kind said, that black gaze devouring her. Azriel's head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full rage and pain as he snarled at the king, "Don't you touch her." Mor loked at Azriel - and there was real fear there. Fear - and something else. She didn't stop moving until she again kneeled beside him and pressed a hand to his wound. Azriel hissed - but covered her bloody fingers with his own. (oh....just so you know, Elain was kidnapped and is currently bound and gagged, with the King preparing to put her into the Cauldron but Az is a little too busy focusing on Mor to care).

ACOWAR

And somehow had to guard Elain, though I certainly wasn't about to tell Lucien that. Cassian, swearing and pissy, got the short stick, and Azriel only clapped him on the shoulder before heading to the house to prepare. (Here we have Elain depressed but Az is happy to leave her).

Throughout it, he was quiet - removed. Even by his standards. I made the mistake of asking if he'd spoken to Mor since he'd left last night. No, he had not. And that was that. Even if he kept flexing his scarred hand at his side. As if recalling the sensation of the hand she'd whipped free of his touch during the meting. Over and over. (I think you might want to rethink that fanart scene that's floating around of Az flexing his hand for Elain a la Mr. Darcy).

"It's worth a try," Mor sniped. "You're needed here," Cassian said. Azriel looked included to agree, even as he kept quiet. (Elain had a vision with her Seer powers, something Az claimed "We need"......yet he did absolutely nothing about it. He did did not fight for what she was seeing, he did not offer to go. How incredibly supportive!).

ACOMAF

"Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?" "No I said, and I meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief".

Az, to his credit, gave Mor a smile of thanks, a blush creeping over his cheeks, his hazel eyes fixed on her. I looked away at the heat, the yearning that filled them.

ACOSF

Nesta said to Feyre, "Did you tell Elain?"

Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, "What about Mor?"

"Where's my beautiful Mor?" Az said tightly, "Away."

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be expose to." / She threw a nod toward Azriel. "Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to." Don't underestimate her."

Rhysand blinked, "What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the sexual fantasies he pleasured himself to.

HOFAS

"We defeated Hybern," Azriel confirmed. A glance toward Truth-Teller at his side. Then at Nesta. "Nesta beheaded the King of Hybern by herself."

There you go. That's your beautiful, romantic, SJM planned from the start love story of Elain and Az.

It doesn't matter how many sweet moments you have for E/riel the fact remains that shortly after each scene, Az was written to still be hung up on Mor (funny how his longing glances only became few and far between in the book where Mor WAS NO LONGER IN THE NIGHT COURT FOR A MAJORITY OF THE TIME), where he still disrespected Elain, where he never once gave her credit for the brave things she did during the war, where he never once addressed her depression or the things she lost like her father, her humanity, her fiance.

And the overarching plot already lends itself to an Elucien and Gwynriel endgame. There's no mental gymnastics or changing the characters personalities to make it fit.

Pairing Elain with Az would be a waste of Elain's character. If you cared for Elain as you say you do you'd ship her with Amren more than Az considering Amren had to reprimand Az for underestimating her.

"But it's what Elain wants!"

Sometimes young girls that just experienced trauma are foolish thinking they know what they want even though the adults in the room can clearly see it's not healthy 🤷. Elain is working through it all but once she comes out on the other side, she'll see things a bit more clearly. I think we got our evidence of that when she returned Az's necklace and I can't wait to see if in the next book she finds out about the bullshit he said about her and Lucien.

I have never heard of a more delusional comment than claiming SJM used SF as filler for an E/riel endgame. SJM is on record of saying how Nesta felt keenly alive to her early on, how she feels emotional rereading SF because of her own journey with mental health issues yet you're turning into E/riel fodder.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

#anti e/riel #pro elucien #gwynriel

[readychilledwine]

Edgeplay

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Welcome to the side of BDSM most people are very nervous about. Edgeplay is an umbrella of play types that tend to push the limitations of safety and emotional and mental well-being. This type of play can be triggering, so consider from here forward a trigger warning for this one-shot.

Edgeplay is not for the faint of heart. The types of play in this umbrella include consensual non consent, blood play, knife play, fire play, more extreme forms of rope play, breath play, impact play with implements that are faster to draw blood (studded paddles, kendo sticks, whips, canes, etc.), fire play, gun play, extreme temperature play, orgasm wrecking, and one of my very hard limitations, scat play and water sports. It is not uncommon for these play types to leave permanent reminders of play for years to come.

This type of play requires a very deep connection and level of trust between dom and sub. Some of these activities can kill you, and in recent years, the excitement behind that statement has been romanticized to the point that they began their own subgenre of the spice and romance literature world: Dark Romance.

I will be honest, I was SHOCKED and gagged and then felt evil with how I planned this out, to have our sweet baby LuLu requested for this. It is more mild than had I gotten Azriel because I can not see Lucien being super into play that could leave him potentially scarred and I could not see him being the dom in a situation that would potentially scar his play partner. I hope you all still like it, though!

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - male sub dynamics, mommy kink, wax play, rope play, orgasm wrecking and edging, breathplay, use of safe word.

Something about Lucien was just so pretty when he begged. 

Maybe it was the pouty full lips. Maybe it was the whispered desperation. The soft look in his eyes was a plus, too. “Mommy,” you had denied him seconds away from an orgasm again. Lucien's chest had splatters of wax across it, his hair a tangled mess from pulling it constantly.

He has asked you to push him limitations. You were happy to oblige. “What color are you, baby?”

Through wet lashes, Lucien looked up at you, lip trembling slightly. “Yellow.” You began stroking his head. “Just need to cum.”

You tutted him. “Yellow means we slow down,” you began straddling his waist, holding the candle again. “Do you not remember your safe colors, baby?”

“I remember, mommy,” his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them tightly as that first drop if wax hit his abs. He hissed and squirmed, a whimper leaving his throat. 

“Did you forget your safe word?”

Another drop had him groaning, “No, mommy.”

You smiled, spare hand tracing his fingers, “Did you forget the rule about touching me?” He only whimpered in response as you flicked your wrists, and his hands were tied above his head. You had taken his one comfort and knew that limitations were about to be further pushed and possibly broken. “What's your safeword, baby?” You had set the candle down, sinking in to him inch by slow inch, watching the rise and fall of his chest before picking the candle back up.

“Red or Beron.”

“Do you need to use them?”

He shook his head, “Not yet.”

You leaned in kissing His pouty lips softly. “Would you like to start again?”

“Yes, mommy. Still yellow.”

You nodded, beginning to ride him slowly and tenderly while dropping wax on him occasionally. You were purposely aiming for spots that were already covered, so he didn't feel the full effect. You watched as he physically relaxed, whines becoming moans of your name, pleading for more. 

You bounced faster, hips moving in a rhythm you knew he loved. You began pouring the wax on exposed skin while your hand went to rest on his throat. 

You were watching Lucien closely, ensuring he was okay as you began to bring him back to his high. His beautiful face began to switch every so often, pleasure mixing with pain, and fading back to bliss. He was so close, and you wanted to give him a reward, allow him to fill your aching clenching cunt with his seed and then snuggle him and clean up. 

But something was preventing him from finding that bliss, from tipping over the edge. Your hand had moved from his throat, resting on his chest instead, but he didn't relax, falling back into whines and whimpers below you, begging softly. 

You went to set the candle down, one last drop of wax falling onto his collarbone area as you did, and it happened. “BERON!”

You  felt the room shift, stopping all motion. “I'm going to get off of you, okay?”

Lucien nodded, tears forming in his eyes as he did. “I'm sorry-”

You hushed him gently, moving to sit beside him and reaching to untie him. “Do not apologize to me. We tried a few new things, and it was too much. You never apologize for needing to stop, Lucien.”

“I just kept waiting for you to rip it away again, to stop and.. and you didn't.. but-” 

You began playing with his hair as his hands found your bare skin, feeling for comfort, squeezing plush flesh to regroup himself. 

“It's okay, Lu. You're safe.. I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to try.”

You began peeling the wax off, praising him as you did. “What can we do to make you feel better?”

“A bath.”

“Then let's go take a bath.” You pulled him off the bed, walking him to the bathroom, and began running the tub. “Let's get this wax off. I love you, Lu.”

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. Also, never realized how quickly my father's name could kill a mood.”

“So fast,” you laughed.

He smiled harder, glowing softly at the happiness flowing from both ends of the bond. “So fucking fast.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien x you #lucien acotar #lucien fic #lucien vanserra x y/n #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien vandaddy #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

[whitedemon-ladydeath]

SJM + Eugenics + Ableism in her Writing

thinking about how insidious eugenics can come up in writing- specifically SJMs writing. Personally I take a lot with a grain of salt bec I don't think a lot of ppl realize how fucking deeply entrenched and rooted it is in everything and more often than not its not intentional

and to an extent I don't think it was intentional by SJM. she does have a degree of plausible deniability in her story telling

however that being said:

the Cauldron "pairing mates" has allusions to being a breeding program of some kind of supernatural predestined idiocy. Sam + Melissa on Tiktok have some pretty great videos on it

However, while they think that SJM is providing commentary on the matter, I do have a different view, not that I really disagree with what they're saying

SJM has a track record of using disabilities as an aesthetic for her characters. It's often a point of suffering and/or there ends up being a magical fix (yay fantasy eugenics providing miracle cures!!! /sarcasm)

Chaol, severely injured with a spinal cord injury that left him paralyzed goes to the super special healing place to have the world's bestest healers where the magical healing trope + black girl magic collide. He spends the whole book, a duration of only six months, regaining the ability to walk, with a cane most days. Chaol spends a large part of the book feeling sorry for himself and immasculting himself. Yerene, a professional trained healer who helps him with PT snaps at him in frustration to "just get up" when he's being difficult with her Note: some of these detailed may be incorrectly remembered + I never finished the book bec I can't stand him

Lucien: he gets his eye ripped out and is literally blinded but now he has a magical eye that is even better and can sense magic and spells and all that good shit

Rhys: chronic pain; never addressed

Azriel: scarred hands and wings, but so far we've seen no real struggle or accommodation of any kind or even a real discussion on how he had to learn how to fly at an older age due to his captivity and scarred wings

Cassian: his wings were beyond shredded but between books they got fixed up right as rain. it would have been fantastic rep for this decorated veteran and leader to be disabled, esp for a culture of warriors where flying is so crucial + where thr women are also forceably mutilated and can't fly either

speaking of the illyrian women

the Illyrian Women: not being able to fly and use their limbs is a disability. We have seen zero repercussions of Emeries father (and brother(?)) for disabling and mutilating his daughter

the mental health crisis of NESTA for ONE. in both the Fandom and in the series the grating toxic positivity and lack of patience and understanding and support and willingness to meet her halfway enraged me holy shit. The tone policing, the lack of autonomy, the unaddressed childhood trauma that has made Nesta the core of who she was. it was vile and disgusting

Aelin: quite frankly should have difficulty moving as fluidly as she does. she was whipped to ribbons and beaten bloody. Her back should be full of chronic pain and difficulty

Elide: as far as I'm aware Elide isn't too bad and she's incredibly intelligent and resourceful but it's been a hot minute since I've read the series. I do remember when they talked about it at the end about possibilities to heal her ankle (they couldn't)

I haven't read CC yet but I heard that LIMBS CAN GROW BACK???? sure let's just completely erase and magically fix imputations I guess?

I find it a lit harder to forgive "accidental eugenics" when her disabled characters disabilities are either made into Aesthetics, not properly addressed, or just healed all together

and when you pair magical eugenics + aesthetics:

You get Rhysand, the most powerful high lord of ever that you just have to keep being told is the most powerful high lord ever due to his parents being mates that his father whisked away from moments before she became mutilated like all the other Illyrian Women at 18 years old to a 900 year old man

you get his entire IC who is made of The Night Courts super special powerful clique who now happen to be the most powerful illyrian EVERRRR (Cassian + Azriel), Amren who was some trapped angel of death or something and Mor who is just so super powerful a mountain quaked or something when she was born

the entire IC is a concentrated powerhouse who also uses a specific mindset of "might is right"-

-and have forced others hands across the entire series or just outright lied and stole. also trespassing and routinely breaking laws but hey

Rowan, Aelin, Aedion, Dorian, Manon are all ToG Powerhouses. Rowan is described as the "most powerful full blooded fae male alive". there's an implication that human blood "weakens" fae traits and magical abilities [this is rather common in a lot of fantasy books]

every single character in this series is seen as some sort of extraordinary person with some sort of extraordinary power or ability aside from maybe a few. Hell Chaol, the only fully human character with no powers is the "Captian of the Guard" which he got bec he's a nepo baby from being Dorians friend. He gets disabled and they immediately go to get him fixed

tagging: @feynessupremacy @bookishfeylin @andramoreaux

I thought yall would appreciate

#prev. wolfgeneralashryver #sjm critical #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #throne of glass #tog #ableism #eugenics in acotar #eugenics in tog #eugenics #my posts get good traction yall cowards better interact with these posts. i see yall scrolling whenever i talk about this

[crazy-ache]

I'm not sure if you're still doing those, butttt

Bathtub Fic x Sick/Injured or Scars Fic for Elucien 😁

For you…YES!!

Bathtub Fic & Sick/Injured or Scars

For the scene, I am going to take us to the Winter Court. Perhaps it is a part of their journey to Koschei or to explore her Seer powers—early in the relationship, with the barest shreds of trust between them—and somewhere along the travels, they encounter the infamous hot springs of Winter.

Picture mountains and snow and nuzzled deep within the white, icy forests lay natural hot springs. Lucien has been here of course from his emissary days. He explains the benefits and urges Elain that she simply must try out this particular hidden gem—that there is none like it in all of Pythian. She agrees nervously. And her eyes go wide as she watches Lucien begin to strip off all his clothes.

Elain blushed, turning around instantly. “What are you doing?” She squeaked. “Well, I’m certainly not going to get my clothes wet in this cold and the hot springs are best enjoyed naturally.” Lucien laughed and she could hear him kick off his shoes and pants behind her. Then the sound of water splashing as he entered, quickly followed by a near moan from Lucien’s lips. “Come on, Elain. It’s incredible. I promise I won’t look, lady. On my honor.”

It’s enough to make Elain bite her lip and consider. It did seem incredible. And she had dreamed of traveling the world her entire life. She couldn’t be a coward now that she was here. “Turn around!” She barked her command, and only once her mate confirmed he was indeed facing the other direction with his eyes closed did she begin to undo her dress, stockings, and boots. Without a single article of clothing, she raced into the water before the shivers overtook her body. And indeed it was amazing. A similar relaxed moan tumbled out of her mouth as she sank into the warm, steamy waters.

They were back to back, because Elain didn’t have the courage to do it any different. To bare herself to him. Not with the amount of desire she secretly harbored inside. Even if the water came up right to the swell of her breasts. But even like this, she could sense his smile. His comfort. They talked leisurely and at length. Now that they were finally spending time together, she was caught off guard by how easily he could make her laugh. It was at one particularly wicked joke that her body curved and her skin made contact with his back.

Immediately she felt the scars. Ridges upon ridges of marks across his back. They both flinched instantly. Elain from the surprise and Lucien no doubt from the sorrow and pain embedded deep with every scar.

There’s no other thought except concern surging through her veins as she whips around, breaking her own rules, to face his back. He is frozen, as if he’s been caught. Shame? Elain can’t stop the gasp as she takes in his whipped back. “Who—how—” She is shaking even if the water is so unnaturally hot, leaving her pale skin red with the heat.

“Punishment when I was Under the Mountain.” He answers. Elain reaches for his back, running her fingers across every single mark. He does not move. There’s so much she can see now. The history like a constellation across his shoulder blades and spine. The pain etched in his skin, one of loyalty and bravery and suffering, so much like the matching one on his eye. She can see the corded muscles taut with restraint. The curve of his ass just below the water’s surface. His long molten, red hair curtained over his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. And she means it. She’s sorry for what happened. The primal, visceral part of the mating bond wants to avenge him. Wants to make it as if it never happened. And she’s sorry for all the distance she had once kept between them, when all he had were these scars to keep him company all this time.

Elain wraps her arms around his middle, fingers gliding over the defined abs of his stomach, one hand grazing against the strong, tone muscle of his chest. She kisses his shoulder, right at one of the scars. The another and another and another.

And maybe, just maybe, she’s working up the courage to spin him around and kiss him elsewhere.

#elucien #FADE TO BLACK #kiss him on the mouth or more south you say? #we’ll never know unless i end up writing the full thing which i very well might #ask games

[danikamariewrites]

Rockstar!Lucien Headcanons

A/n: thank you to @cursebrkr for coming up with this beautiful concept for Lucien. Please go check out their art it’s amazing! These r totally random and all over the place

Warnings: some nsfw concepts so minors dni (18+ please)

Rockstar Lucien is hot and he knows it. He's tall, muscular, and 100% covered in tattoos

He used to be self conscious about his face scar but then he adopted the “chicks dig scars” mentality and never looked back

that long red hair is just beautiful, he blow drys and styles it for sure!!!! He uses the best shampoo/conditioner so it’s always smooth and silky

He plays the guitar and loves whipping his hair around during his solos

His favorite is an electric guitar but will occasionally play acoustic if you ask him

Definitely has nose a piercing (changes from a stud or hoop depending on his mood) and definitely a tongue piercing too. There's also one that only you and him know about 😉

You guys met at a party after one of his bigger shows. You’re the friend of a daughter of some executive for his record label and you immediately caught his eye. He knew he had to talk to you

When Lucien loves, he loves hard and is very loyal and he just wants the same in return

He’s very cautious about getting close to people because he’s been hurt before and used for his fame. He didn’t want that to happen with you but after talking to you for a few days he knew you weren’t like that

Once he has you, he’s absolutely infatuated with you

On your first date he tries so hard to impress you but it goes terribly. He makes a complete dork of himself and his ‘cool rockstar’ facade slips. You thought it was so cute and endearing, he was surprised he got another date with you

You become Lucien’s muse when writing songs

You go to all the shows you can and even go on tour with him. If it’s a world tour he takes you to all the romantic spots in different countries and always takes you on fun adventures when he’s not busy rehearsing

You never get bored watching him on stage

Lucien makes sure you’re always sitting close to the stage so he can see you while performing. Whenever he sees you he always winks at you and starts dancing very suggestively on stage knowing it turns you on

Lucien is very protective of you

One time he stopped a show when he saw some guy harassing you. He was furious, he almost jumped off the stage but security escorted the guy from the venue before anything else happened

You watched the rest of the show from backstage that night. As soon as he was done Lucien took you straight home. He held you and apologized all night even though you told him over and over that it wasn't his fault

His fans absolutely adore you! If they recognize you at shows they always say hi and some even ask for a picture

You love watching him on stage and going out to parties together but your favorite times with him are when you guys can just relax at home alone

You love lazy days in bed together eating nothing but junk food and watching cartoons

Lucien is a child at heart and will insist you watch 2000s Disney shows (Suite Life of Zack and Cody is his fav)

Lucien has two nice cars and one really beautiful, expensive black motorcycle

When he bought it you weren’t crazy about it at first but when he handed you your own helmet and took you for a ride it changed your mind

You loved when he’d go super fast, it gave you an adrenaline rush

He's not a huge social media person, he only posts if he likes a picture of him from a show or event, or if new music is coming out

He doesn't like the media attention that comes with his job but he sucks it up

Lucien feels bad that you get wrapped up in it since you're a private person as well

He always has ways to bypass the paparazzi when you guys go out, he hates the way they shove cameras in your faces and the stupid questions they ask

He has punched a pap before for almost pushing you into traffic in the city

Some NSFW stuff (18+ from here on!)

Lucien plays guitar so he’s a god with his fingers. He knows exactly what he’s doing down there and can make you cum in seconds

His tongue piercing is also a plus when he goes down on you

It’s one of the metal balls and when he licks your clit the pressure is perfect

His favorite position is when your on top

Lucien loves when you ride him because he can see all of you and after your orgasm hits he pulls you into his chest

His other preferred position is taking you from behind

He loves running his hand down your arched back to squeeze the back of your neck

And he loves how deep he can get from that angle

When he’s in charge sex is usually rough and passionate. Love making is set aside for special occasions though, like if you haven’t seen each other in a long time

He’s always down to try anything unless it’s a no for you, he’d never want to make you uncomfortable

One of his band mates did walk in on you guys once in his dressing room and he never lived it down

#acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #lucien vanserra #Lucien vanserra headcanon #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader

[ennas-aesthetic]

Read your newest part of the retired!dream, loved it! Dream finally knowing what it feels to be truly loved was so heartwarming🥺. I'm a bit lost though, when did Dream get that scar? He said he kept it but I don't remember in the comics him getting injured

Aaaw thank you! I put Dream through the wringer in my last fic, so I guess he deserves the happiness he gets in this AU. :'DD

Re: the scar on Morpheus' cheek, that's actually a GREAT question, but I'm afraid we're going into spoiler territory for this one. So this is a fair warning to anyone and everyone who might see this and not want the Sandman Comics spoiled. Spoilers Zone from here on out:

You're sorta correct on Morpheus never getting injured in the comics. The Endless are more than humans, more than gods. It would take an entirely eldritch and primordial being to hurt the Seven enough to make them bleed.

Which is why the one time Endless blood WAS SPILT, it was both blood-curdling and terrifying, because YOU KNOW that it is a grievous threat indeed.

Dream gets the scar on his cheek during The Kindly Ones (volume 9). When he goes to Nuala after she called him for a boon, the Furies through Lyta Hall were able to enter the Dreaming so they may destroy it. After he comes back, Dream confronts them and demands them to leave; in retaliation they struck him with their barbed scorpion whip on his cheek.

Below is what the scar looks like up close.

In the next few panels Lucien actually asks him if he would be keeping the scar. In turn he says this:

And (hoooo boy prepare yourselves for this one) until his last conversation with Death, you can actually see that Dream still DOES have the scar here. He has it until he... well, you know what happens after this conversation.

The scar is quite significant arc-wise for Dream. In the panels above he says that Alianora foretold that he would receive two scars: one on the cheek, one on the heart, the way he did to her. This is expounded on in Sandman: Overture, where Alianora, his former lover, got a scar on her cheek when she defended and rescued Dream from the two gods who held him prisoner. (Of course, the scar in her heart was when Dream tire of her and grew cold and distant. Seriously, if anyone reading this hasn't read Overture yet, check it out. It'll reframe everything you know about the original comics in the best, most heart-breaking way possible.)

In the AU, while I'm keeping the details of HOW Dream gets to walk away very vague, I'd like to think that most of the events during The Kindly Ones STILL happened. I'd also like to think he kept the scar because while his self-destructive spiral was averted, Dream still hasn't fully healed and processed his issues, and thus considers it to be a literal symbol of self-flagellation. He is fully capable of erasing it, but it remaining there is a choice he made.

What he hasn't calculated is that people will be kind and caring and concerned. What he hasnt calculated is that being human means being subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known, to reap the rewards of being loved. 😌

Hope that answers your question! :DD

#retired!dream #retired!dream as a librarian AU #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman spoilers #enna rambles #just-cosmere-fan #thank you sm for the ask and hope that answers your question! #i do love the idea that him walking away from his responsibilities isnt the immediate happy ever after that we think #there's a boatload of issues he has to address/ go thru #and that he would keep that scar #because Dream loves keeping mementos of things that remind him of his failures/ punish him #morpheus

[bettdraws]

Since I’m in the topic of scars… does anyone else find the concept of “oh pretty scars” kinda icky?

When I read that Elain *apparently* says to Azriel that his scarred hands are beautiful, wouldn’t she be glorifying his abuse?

Reminds me of Outlander when Jack Randall the one that had given Jamie the scars by whipping him like 100 times called it a “work of art”. Claire never said his scarred back was beautiful as far as I know, she only acknowledged it as part of him.

E/riels want to glorify it, some even have claimed Elain is not using gloves when gardening to try to “emulate” his scars which is so bad in SO MANY WAYS.

I imagine Elain was not referring to the scars but to his siphons (i hope) but the fact that E/riels WANT her to be referring to the scars just alarms me.

His scars were the result of CONSTANT abuse and for the sake of abuse. Saying his hands are beautiful BECAUSE OF the scars (like it is implied) is like granting praise to his abusers.

Its like Elain looking at Lucien’s scarred side and saying “Beautiful”, like yeah on a superficial level it may be an aww moment but then you’re like wait, what if he didn’t have those scars, would you still consider him beautiful? I don’t think its the same as considering him beautiful in spite of the scars, or trying to flip it to say he looks tougher, or simply acknowledging his beauty as a whole.

(I also like that Gwyn doesn’t even look at his hands and Azriel doesn’t seem insecure about them with her, in contrast with how he is with Elain.)

Idk if someone has a different opinion on this let me know.

#anti e/riel #scars are also a symbol of what we carry of the traumas #is she saying his trauma is cute #i may be overthinking this #i wish i wasnt exposed to so much e/riel bs

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 11: The First Trial - Pt 2

Ao3 Masterlist

The muffled sounds of the crowd in the raised stands died away as Lucien walked into the Forbidden Forest.

The sounds and smells of the forest were sinister, but he had the unfair advantage of them being familiar as well. The soft crunching of leaves under his feet, the rustling of branches overhead, the well-worn path leading to endless, impenetrable darkness. All things he’d experienced before.

But those times he’d been a monster that nothing in this forest would dare cross. Lucien had a feeling that the creatures that skittered away at the first scent of a werewolf wouldn’t be so squeamish when faced with a human.

“Lumos!”

Even as a whisper his voice echoed around the woods around him, like a ripple in a pond. Lucien had the distinct feeling of being watched, though he couldn’t hear or scent anything near him, even with his heightened senses.

The light from his wand seemed to barely light the path ahead, as if the darkness was absorbing the light. He could barely see more than a few feet.

There was no sign of either Nesta or Rhysand, no discernible footprints or sounds other than the soft whisperings of the forest. How much time had gone by since he’d walked in? It was hard to tell with nothing but dark and silence around him, and he kicked himself for not wearing a watch.

After what felt like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes he arrived at a fork in the path. He’d walked these woods enough to know that the path to the left was wider and easier to walk on, but wouldn’t take him anywhere useful.

To the right the path was narrower, darker, with lower-hanging branches that all but barred the path. Lucien would have bet any amount of money that Nesta and Rhysand had both gone left.

The safe thing to do would be to start out on the path on the right, where he’d be able to see a threat coming at him. But it would also leave him exposed, both to whatever lurked in these woods, and to the other champions who could decide to follow him.

What he had told Elain hadn’t been the entire truth, but it hadn’t been a lie, either. He did know from Care of Magical Creatures class that unicorns preferred open spaces, he had simply failed to mention that he had seen proof of it.

Straight ahead was nothing but dense woods, littered with fallen trunks, holes, bushes, and very little to orient himself. At least, that’s how it would appear to anyone else. But Lucien knew for a fact that if he kept going straight for another ten minutes he’d arrive at a broad clearing with a shallow pond in its center.

The very pond that he and his friends had once spotted a unicorn drinking from. It was a thing of breathtaking beauty- whiter than the purest snow, radiant with magic. Its neck had snapped up as it sensed them enter the clearing, and in the blink of an eye it had vanished.

The unicorn’s scent had been almost unearthly, so fresh and enticing it had wiped his brain of anything but predatory intent. He’d chased that poor creature through the woods for over an hour, catching glimpses of the tip of a silvery-white tail whipping through the woods. Eventually Jurian and Tamlin had managed to tackle him and snap him out of his single-minded daze. They’d given him shit for it the next morning, but the ribbing was always half-hearted. They knew there was nothing he could do about it. Still, the memory of it turned Lucien’s stomach. Unicorn blood was highly toxic to humans, and he was willing to bet it wouldn’t have ended well for him if he’d bit that unicorn.

He hesitated as he surveyed the dark woods in front of him. Part of him wanted to wait for Elain, so he could show her the way to the pond. Contest or no, she hadn’t chosen to participate, unlike Nesta or Rhysand.

A rustling above him caught his attention. A dark shape was barely visible through the thick canopy, moving slowly through the branches. Right. They were being monitored. If she got into trouble she could always call for help. Besides, she’d probably punch him in the face if she thought he didn’t think her capable. The thought made him smile as he turned back to the dark woods.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery-white fawn shot out from his wand, its ears quirking back as it scanned the woods around Lucien.

“Light the way, my friend,” Lucien whispered. He stepped off the path and into the trees, his patronus trotting faithfully in front of him.

It was even more quiet in this part of the woods. The mossy ground absorbed his footsteps, the canopy of branches above so thick they barely rustled. His patronus wound its way through the dense trees, illuminating the darkness.

Lucien had been nothing but confident when Eris had explained the task back in the tent, but he was starting to feel differently about that the deeper he got into the woods. He walked a little closer to his patronus, and the fawn nuzzled his hand.

“Should be somewhere straight ahead…” he mumbled. Was he walking to his patronus? No wonder people went insane in solitary confinement. He’d been alone in the woods for no more than half an hour and he was already starting to feel a little crazy.

Maybe this was the true trial. Not finding a unicorn hair or fighting whatever creatures got in their way, but somehow doing it without panicking.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed aside a branch and the clearing appeared before him, exactly where he’d remembered it. It was blissfully empty, no unicorns or other more menacing creatures in sight. The night sky was clear, the silvery moonlight reflecting off the surface of the still pond.

Lucien hurried around the edge of the water, towards the spot in the woods where the unicorn had run off. His patronus followed, illuminating the darkness.

With his lit wand held high in front of him he crouched down and looked for a hint of silky white hair. He had chased the unicorn so fast that the animal had crashed its way through the trees to get away from him- with some luck some of its tail hairs might have gotten stuck to the thick underbrush. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea he had.

After ten minutes of searching a desperate panic started kicking in. He still had to walk back, if he started now it would have taken him an hour. He had no idea how long it would take the others, but surely they wouldn’t have achieved the task faster than him?

Just then a flash of silver caught his eye. Lucien dropped to his hands and knees in front of a bush full of brambles, sticking his wand in his mouth. There, stuck in the thorny branches, was a single, pristine white hair. It seemed to be lit by an inner light, as the unicorn had been.

Lucien carefully untangled it from the brambles, his heart racing with excitement. All he had to do now was to get out of the forest- he could run once he was back on the path, and surely he would get top marks.

He pocketed the hair carefully and turned back to the clearing. “Alright, Spots. Time to go.”

Lucien frowned at the dark clearing in front of him. In his excitement he hadn’t realized his patronus had disappeared. He was lifting his wand to summon it again when a cold voice behind him made him freeze.

“Well well well. What do we have here?”

---

The darkness pressed in around Elain, so thick and endless that for a moment she forgot how to breathe. The thin beam of light from her wand was almost useless- it was so dark she could barely see her hand in front of her.

Elain did not like the dark. She had hated it as a little girl, and she hated it still, even though her sisters teased her for being too old to be afraid of the dark. As a girl, in their house in Little Whinging, she slept with the curtains open, the silvery moonlight illuminating her room with a dreamy, surreal quality. She remembered looking forward to the full moon, when that light was particularly bright, chasing away any lingering shadows in the corners of her room. In the warmer months she would sleep with the window open above her bed, and she would be lulled to sleep by the combination of that dreamy light and the warm, fragrant breeze from her garden.

Sometimes, when she was awoken by a particularly strange dream, she would stick her head out the window and stare at the moon, inhaling that sweet breeze. If only to remind herself that this was the real world. That this was real, that she was not insane.

That had stopped once they had moved to the cramped apartment in London, with its tiny, creaky window with a view of a brick wall. Feyre grumbled if even a ray of light penetrated the room before she decided to wake up, and Nesta couldn’t stand the noise from the street. Besides, if any light had managed to get through it would have been the yellow, artificial light of the streetlamps.

But here, in the forest, even the moon wasn’t able to light her way. She thought back to Lucien’s nonchalant assurance that tonight wasn’t a full moon. Perhaps he didn’t like the dark, either. Something about that made her smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A stream of light whooshed from her wand, solidifying into limbs, a snout, a tail. Definitely not a normal wolf. A wolf who existed by the will of the full moon. Perhaps it was fitting, after all. Either way, she had more pressing concerns at the moment. She’d worry about the wolf-not-wolf later.

As if sensing her thoughts, her patronus nudged her hand and then trotted a few feet up the path before looking back at her over its shoulder.

“Right. Let’s do this, Moony.”

The woods were still dark and eerily silent around her, but at least with the light of the patronus she could see a few feet in front of her.

An open space with water. That should be easy enough to find, right? Unicorns were notoriously skittish, but their delicate tail hairs often got caught in low bushes or brambles. Olivander had told her this was how they were collected for their use in wand-making.

Her own wand seemed to grow warmer in her hand, as if the single strand of unicorn hair inside somehow knew of her purpose here in the woods. Whether it approved or not, she couldn’t tell.

Elain stopped in her tracks as she reached a fork in the path. The path on the left was wider, the ground packed tightly from being walked on. The path to the right was hardly a path at all, and more of a vague passage through tightly packed trees, with trunks and fallen branches littering the ground. Surely by all logic the most worn path would lead to some sort of water?

She turned left, holding her lit wand out in front of her. Her patronus followed beside her on silent feet, but she hadn’t walked more than a few steps when her wand suddenly burned in her hand, so suddenly she gasped and dropped it in surprise. The tip was still lit, but otherwise it looked perfectly innocent. Elain had expected to find it glowing red-hot, but the polished rosewood looked as normal as ever.

With slight trepidation she bent to retrieve it, and found that the wood was once again cool against her palm. How odd. Perhaps she had performed a silent spell without meaning to?

She held it out in front of her again, this time bracing herself, and once again it grew hot in her palm. Instead of dropping it again she whirled, pointing it in the opposite direction. This time the wand vibrated slightly.

Elain’s heart rate picked up. She knew precious little about wand making, but she remembered Olivander saying something about the mysterious properties of wand cores. Perhaps her wand did have an opinion about what she was doing, after all.

She moved to the intersection of the paths and spun in a slow circle, noting the change in her wand with each direction she faced. The wide, slightly more inviting path on the left- hot. Like a warning. The same for the path leading back to the school grounds, as well as the woods straight ahead.

But when she faced the path to the right, the one she desperately did not want to walk down- a slight vibration, like a hum of approval. Elain hesitated for another minute. What if she was making all this up, and she ended up lost?

But then again, her only other option was to wander through the woods aimlessly. Besides, if she got turned around or left the path, she could always use a four-way charm to find the castle again.

She gripped her wand tightly and started down the path, her patronus leading the way. The woods were so dense and the path so narrow that it felt like she was crawling randomly through the woods. More than once she stopped and held her wand out in front of her, circling slowly and following the direction the wand indicated. It might have been her imagination but the vibrations seemed to be increasing in intensity, from a low hum to an almost electric buzzing.

Her path was strangely empty of any creatures, magical or otherwise, but every once in a while a rustle of branches or crunch of leaves would make her stop dead in her tracks, her heart jumping to her throat. But nothing leapt out at her, nothing howled or growled or snarled, no spells were cast her way. It was just her and her patronus, illuminating her way.

She was starting to panic at how deep into the woods she was walking when a new sound made her pause. Not an animal, not footsteps. A tinkling, rushing sound, faint but easily recognizable. Running water.

The woods were so disorienting that she held out her wand again to make sure she headed in the right direction. The trickling sound got louder, and Elain’s heart sped up again, with excitement this time. Maybe she could actually do this. And without having encountered any creatures, no less. Maybe she’d even get top marks, and maybe that would get her some kind of advantage in the next trial…

She’d been silly to freak out about this. It was just harmless fun, really. Professor Spell-Cleaver wouldn’t actually put them in real danger. She’d once seen him personally escort a first year student who had injured himself up to Madam Madja. There was no way he would risk any of them being seriously harmed…

“Shit!”

Elain winced as she stepped right into ice-cold water, her sneaker becoming immediately soaked through. The forest was so dense that she hadn’t noticed the little stream winding its way through the trees.

Her heart sank. If Lucien’s guess had been right then unicorns preferred open spaces. This little creek running through dense woods was the opposite of that.

And yet- that trickling sound she could still hear was not coming from this creek. It must lead somewhere else.

She followed the creek, carefully stepping over fallen branches and trunks to avoid toppling into the icy water completely. Her wet shoe squelched with every step, making her teeth chatter with cold. Eventually the creek widened into a stream and her wolf trotted in the middle of the current, following the sound of rushing water.

After a few minutes light started trickling in through the trees from an opening up ahead, and the noise intensified. Her patronus came to a stop in the middle of the stream, sitting back on its haunches. Elain hurried to its side, pushing back a low branch to clear her path, and then she pulled up short with a gasp.

She wasn’t standing at the edge of a clearing, as she had expected, but at the top of a knoll that led to a deep ravine. The stream ran over the edge in a graceful waterfall, into a still, wide pool at the bottom. And beside the pond, its head raised in her direction, was a radiant, snow-white unicorn.

Elain forced herself to remain very still, even as her wand vibrated in her hand again, as if drawn to the unicorn by a magnet. A sudden gust of wind sent branches rustling overhead, and in the blink of an eye the unicorn had turned and bolted into the trees.

Elain exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and stepped a little closer to the edge of the ravine. She’d solved one problem, but created another.

She could examine the spot in trees where the unicorn had disappeared, and with some luck she might find a stray hair stuck to the branches. But first, she would have to find a way down into the ravine. Walking around to the other side would take too long, but if she tried to climb down the steep side she could fall and break her neck. For the first time in her life she wished she was more athletic. Feyre would probably be halfway down by now.

Maybe she could do an engorgement charm on a bush, to catch her if she fell. The vegetation growing along the side of the ravine almost formed some kind of trellis- she could hold on to it to climb down.

No sooner had she made up her mind and started rolling up the sleeves of her robes than a jet of green light lit up the woods around her. Elain shrieked in surprise and stumbled back, whirling to see the source of the light.

Too late, she remembered that she was standing at the edge of a sharp drop. Her arms windmilled around her as her feet slipped on the wet ground, searching for purchase. Another flash of green light hit the ground next to her, only missing her by a few inches.

A scream slipped from her throat, but it was cut short as her scrambling feet hit a soft patch of mud and she went tumbling backwards, the air leaving her lungs as she barreled towards the pond at the bottom of the ravine.

---

Lucien barely had time to react to that unnatural voice before something long and hairy wrapped around his middle and hoisted him upside down into the air. He started to scream, but as whatever was holding him turned him around in midair all he could do was stare.

Because the something holding him was a leg. A long, hairy leg, attached to a hairy body the size of a carthorse. Lucien counted eight legs, eight dark beady eyes, and eight razor-sharp pincers. His voice seemed to die in his throat as the giant spider peered at him, clicking its pincers menacingly.

“A human in my forest,” the creature said, clicking its pincers to emphasize each word. “What a novelty.”

A skittering sound filled the clearing. Lucien’s stomach lurched in horror as he saw the ground was now covered in spiders- so many of them that they carpeted the previously mossy forest floor in a thick, black, moving layer. Some no bigger than a fly, some as big as an apple, but thankfully none as big as his captor.

Lucien had heard the rumors that Acromantulas lived in the Forbidden Forest, but he had never seen one before. All he knew about them was that they were rare, and that their venom was extremely valuable.

And, most importantly, that they had a taste for human flesh.

That thought jolted Lucien out of his frozen stupor. He struggled against the leg holding him, his mind going blank with fear. But fighting against the creature was no use- the spider only held him tighter as it clinked its pincers at him in what horribly seemed like excitement. Blood was rushing in his ears, his fear making it difficult to think clearly.

And then with a sudden lurch the spider started moving, crashing through the dense trees towards the heart of the forest. The swarm of spiders covering the ground seemed to follow, like some horrible, nightmarish river.

Lucien’s grip tightened on his wand, and he aimed wildly for the spider’s many legs.

“STUPEFY!”

The jet of light ricocheted uselessly off the spider, and the creature clicked its pincers again, as if amused.

“Stupefy! STUPEFY!”

But it was no use. The spider was so large and magically powerful that Lucien suspected it would take at least three wizards bombarding it with spells to take it down.

Lucien forced himself to calm down and think. They were going deeper and deeper into the forest. If he somehow managed to get free from his captor he would still have to find his way back. No way he could run fast enough to avoid the spiders. If only he could fly without a broom, then he could simply zoom out of the forest…

Something clicked in his fear-addled brain. He might not have a broom but the teachers patrolling the forest did. He could send up some red sparks and they would come for him. Unless…

Unless there was a way he could escape on a broom also.

He pointed his wand in the direction they had come from and concentrated with all his might. “ACCIO BROOM!”

Nothing happened, but he could only hope it had worked. Otherwise he’d had no choice but to send up red sparks and get disqualified for the first Trial. Lucien had no idea how far into the forest he was- if he asked for help, would the teachers even see him?

He was getting dizzy from being held upside down, his blood pounding in his ears with every erratic heartbeat. The woods were getting even darker and denser, the ground rustling as even more spiders followed in their tracks.

Eventually the woods around them thinned, the darkness lifting slightly as silvery moonlight illuminated their way. Lucien almost wished it had stayed dark as he took in the scene around him.

They were descending down a gently sloping hill into a hollow that had been cleared of trees. The very center of the hollow was domed with a misty, silvery web. And everywhere he looked- spiders. Not small ones like the ones scurrying under him, but giant ones as large as his captor. But even more horrible was the noise. Slithering, clicking, rustling noise that sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine.

Without preamble the spider holding him dropped its hold, and Lucien fell to the ground in a heap. He jumped to his feet, clutching his wand so tight his knuckles turned white. Spiders surrounded him on all sides, closing in around him in a tidal wave. He barely had time to regain his senses when the spider that had carried him here spoke.

“Dadgan!” it called, clicking its pincers. “Dadgan!”

Silence fell over the hollow as all the spiders went still. Lucien shivered again as he sensed it- whether due to his heightened senses, or because of some primal human instinct, he wasn’t sure.

And then he saw it. A large, horrific shape was crawling out of the misty web and into the hollow, clicking its pincers madly. It was larger than any other spider in the clearing, closer in size to a small house than to any animal Lucien had ever seen.

Any urge of fighting his way out the clearing and making a run for it suddenly disappeared.

“What is it?” the giant spider named Dadgan demanded. Its many eyes were milky white, blinking irritably.

“A human! Wandering alone in the forest, on his own.”

“Kill him,” Dadgan replied dismissively. “I am tired.”

The giant, blind spider turned back towards the web as the hollow exploded with the sound of thousands of pincers clicking with excitement. Lucien’s mind went blank with panic.

“Wait!” he exclaimed.

The leader of the Acromantulas turned back towards him with apparent irritation, and the hollow fell silent once more.

“I’m a student at the school!” he blurted, at a loss for what else to say. He doubted there was a way he could talk his way out of this, but considering that the only other option was fighting his way through a horde of spiders, it seemed worth a shot.

“Young flesh. It’s been a long time since a human has come through these parts. You’ll make an excellent snack for my children.”

The wrong thing to say, then. The clicking resumed, more frenzied this time.

Red sparks. Send up red sparks. Don’t be an idiot.

But just then Lucien heard another sound that sent his heart racing with excitement rather than fear. A whizzing through the air- faint and distant but recognizable.

Just a few more moments, if he could just stall for a few more moments…

“How do you think Professor Spell-Cleaver will react if you feed one of his students to your…children?” He clenched his wand tighter to hide his shaking fingers, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually felt.

“We do not answer to Professor Spell-Cleaver,” the spider replied with what Lucien could have sworn was its version of a sneer. “Or to any human. You should have thought of that before wandering into our forest.”

The swarm of spiders pressed in ever closer.

“There’s a tournament,” Lucien continued desperately, surreptitiously scanning the edge of the woods at the top of the ridge. “A competition, between the four Houses at the school. That’s why I came into the forest. I didn’t mean to disturb you. If you let me go I can warn the rest of the school not to come into your territory…”

Dadgan let out a horrible noise, something that might have been a laugh, had it been human.

“And deprive my children of more helpless humans wandering into their grasp? I think not. Goodbye, human.”

The clicking around him grew louder, all those beady eyes shining in the moonlight as they pressed in around him.

But then something burst out of the tree line, swooping down the slope towards him like a bird diving for prey. Lucien felt almost weak with relief.

He didn’t wait for his broom to come to a stop before grabbing it out of midair and swinging himself onto it. The mass of spiders was closing in around him, long hairy legs reaching for him as he yanked his broom up into a steep climb.

He threw his arm out blindly, pointing at the crowd of spiders. “INCENDIO!”

The spiders shrieked in pain as flames erupted from his wand, spreading below him like a hellish inferno. Lucien didn’t dare look down as he rose higher in the air, pointing his broom up to the night sky at top speed with the wind rushing in his ears.

When he rose above the treetops he finally looked down, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The sight of the clearing swarming with spiders was even more revolting from above. He wished his flames had been strong enough to scorch the entire herd to the ground.

The castle twinkled in the distance, like a beacon in the dark. Lucien sighed in relief, pressed himself flat to his broom, and bolted through the night sky.

---

Time seemed to slow down as Elain fell, her hair trailing above her like a fading shooting star. A dark shape moved in the shadows at the edge of the ravine, too far for her to tell what it was.

Before she had time to react she hit the water, and kept falling. Down, down, down into the icy water, deeper than it had looked from above.

The water was so cold that every muscle in her body immediately seized, and so dark she could barely see anything in front of her. For several long moments it seemed like she would never stop falling through the dark, icy water, like time had suspended and she was floating through space.

When she finally hit the slimy, soft bottom of the pond she kicked off desperately, trying not to think too much about what lived in there, or what might be decaying at the bottom. Her soaked robes seemed to drag her back down with every kick of her feet. Her lungs screamed in protest, but finally she broke the surface of the water and gasped in great gulps of air.

For a few seconds all she could do was bob in the water and gather her bearings, disoriented by the fall and the dark abyss of the pond. Then she remembered- the jets of green light aimed at her, the figure moving through the shadows.

A quick scan of the cliff at the top of the waterfall revealed nothing but dense trees, but that didn’t mean whoever attacked her wasn’t still there.

Could it have been one of the other champions, trying to injure her so she’d be disqualified? If that was the case it could only have been Rhysand. She doubted that, even for a Slytherin. He might be a prick but as far as she knew he wasn’t a sociopath. Perhaps it had been a teacher, and the spell hadn’t been aimed for her, but some unseen foe in the woods near her? Somehow she doubted that, too.

The alternative, however, was even more sinister. Who (or, even more horrifying, what) could have sent those spells?

Elain swam as fast as she could to the edge of the pond, her robes hindering her progress and threatening to drag her back down into the black depths. Her teeth were chattering, the icy water seeping straight into her bones. The water was full of algae and other slimy detritus that clung to her clothes, and more than once she felt something bump against her that felt decidedly alive.

Still, she swam as fast as her robes allowed her, turning around every few seconds to scan the top of the ridge. It seemed like whatever had been there before was now gone, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached the bank.

Just as she went to haul herself over the edge, however, a hand clamped around her ankle and yanked. Elain shrieked in surprise and slipped back into the pond, inhaling a mouthful of water as she went. She twisted to look over her shoulder and saw a small, horned creature with tentacles for legs, teeth bared and long, skinny fingers clasped tightly on her ankle.

By some miracle she was still holding her wand and she wasted no time in pointing it in the Grindylow’s face.

“Relashio!”

Her voice came out as little more than a gargle of bubbles, but a jet of hot water streamed out of her wand, hitting the creature straight in the face. It hissed in pain and immediately released her ankle, and Elain scrambled to the surface again, gasping for breath.

But more Grindylows had appeared out of the floating algae, grabbing hold of her robes and trying to drag her down. Elain pointed blindly into the water, unable to see the water demons through the dark murky pond.

“Relashio! RELASHIO!”

This time red-colored sparks shot out of her wand, and the demons screamed so loud she could hear them through the water. In other circumstances she might have felt bad, but in the current situation she couldn’t be bothered. She hauled herself onto the bank and kicked viciously into the water for good measure, feeling a sick satisfaction when her shoe made contact with something solid.

Elain slumped onto her back, letting her breathing return to normal. The surface of the pond was calm once more, sparkling as it reflected the moonlight. The sight of it reminded her of the unicorn, gazing up at her from the edge of the pond. Right. She might be lying at the bottom of a ravine, half-frozen and soaked through her bones, but her problems weren’t over.

Told you it’d be something fun, Lucien had said.

A hysterical laugh that might have been half a sob bubbled out of her before she could stop it. He had seemed so confident, walking into the dark forest as if he wasn’t afraid of it at all. Even Rhysand had seemed a little cowed.

A gust of wind sent a violent shiver through her body, and with a renewed resolve she got to her feet. She’d gotten this far, she couldn’t give up now.

After a quick hot-air spell to dry her sodden robes and one last glance at the top of the ridge (still mercifully empty) she lit the tip of her wand and walked to the spot in the woods where the unicorn had disappeared.

It was so dark, even with the weak beam of light from her wand, that at first she was convinced it was a lost cause. But then her wand began to vibrate again, less than before but still noticeable. Elain let it guide her, moving around the bushes, doubling back when the vibration lessened, moving forward when it increased.

The light from her wand grew a little brighter. And there, right in front of her, tangled in a branch, was a single, vibrantly white unicorn hair. Elain carefully untangled it and cradled it in her palm. How strange, that such a delicate object held such magical power. Her wand seemed to hum in response.

“Come with me, child,” a deep voice said behind her. “It isn’t safe here.”

Elain’s heart stuttered in shock. She turned to the sound of the voice, expecting to see a teacher, perhaps summoned accidentally by the red sparks of her spell against the Grindylows. But what she saw instead made her jaw drop open in shock.

Not quite a man, though he sounded like one. And not quite a horse, though he looked like one.

The centaur stepped into the light cast from her wand, his hooves clip-clopping almost silently against the forest floor. Above the waist he had a human torso, with a gleaming palomino body. His hair was white as snow, his eyes so piercingly blue they seemed to glow in the dark.

Elain’s mouth went dry at the sight of the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and she took an unconscious step back. The centaur frowned and stepped closer still.

“It isn’t safe here,” he repeated, those stunning eyes scanning the woods around them.

Elain swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. “Why not?”

“Malevolent forces are in these woods tonight. The stars have told me so.”

“What…what do you mean by that?”

“There is something here with evil intent.” He lifted his gaze to the stars above, frowning as he did so. “Mars is bright tonight.”

Elain followed the direction of his gaze, shuffling awkwardly. His words sent goosebumps along her arms, as cryptic and nonsensical as they were. Suddenly the prospect of walking back alone was as appealing as slipping back into that pond.

“There’s a tournament happening at school. I was meant to come in and find a unicorn hair. I need to be heading back…”

“The stars warned me there would be foul play involved. Something isn’t right in these woods tonight.”

Elain froze as she thought of the jets of green light fired at her through the woods. Bile rose up her throat.

The centaur must have seen the fear in her eyes, and seemed to take it as an answer. “Come,” he said. “I will bring you back safely.”

“Why would you help me?”

The centaur smiled gently, the expression softening the coldness of his ice-blue eyes. “Centaurs are blessed with knowledge from the movement of the stars. If we do not use it to fight evil, what is the point of it?”

Elain scanned the dark woods again. She wasn’t sure about the wiseness of accepting help from a centaur, but he didn’t seem to mean her harm. Besides, her only alternative was climbing all the way back up to the path, and that would take ages. Not to mention that she’d be left alone with whoever had shot those spells at her earlier.

The centaur stepped closer to her and lowered his front legs so she could climb onto his back. “Hurry,” he urged. “Mars is bright tonight.”

Another glance at the bow and arrows on his back convinced her. If he was right and something fishy was happening in the woods tonight, she’d have a better shot of making it back safely with him than alone. Besides, the rule about not getting help had been specifically about students and teachers only.

Elain clambered onto the centaur’s back awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware that from the waist up he looked like a man. A shirtless one, at that. Nesta would die with jealousy when she told her.

Nesta. Her stomach lurched with horror. What if the malevolent force the centaur spoke of had found her? Or Lucien?

“Do not worry,” the centaur said over his shoulder, perhaps sensing her fear again. “You are safe with me.”

He set off swiftly through the woods and Elain ducked her head to avoid the low-hanging branches.

“What is your name?” he asked. “You may call me Kallias.”

“Elain. Elain Archeron.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Elain Archeron. The stars shine bright upon you.”

Even with the danger and absurdity of the situation she couldn’t help but fight a giggle. Of all the dangerous creatures that lived in this forest, she decided centaurs weren’t so bad.

“How does it work?” she asked curiously. “Your gift?”

“Centaurs study the divine movements of the planets and stars.” He cocked his head curiously. “Most mortals do not take such things seriously. They make a mockery of it with their crystal balls and tea leaves.”

“Crystals balls and tea leaves contain their own knowledge, if you know how to look,” Elain replied defensively.

The centaur was quiet for a few moments, as if contemplating her words. “You have the gift of sight.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked hesitantly.

“You do not deny it,” Kallias replied, gracefully leaping over a stream. “Besides, the stars led me to you tonight.”

“I thought the stars led you to me because I was in danger?”

Kallias was quiet for so long that Elain thought he might have grown tired of talking to her. When he spoke again his voice was somber. “Perhaps the two are related.”

“You mean…” Elain swallowed thickly. “But I haven’t told anyone else about it. Nobody knows.” Except for Lucien, but she had only told him a few hours ago. Besides, he had promised not to tell anyone. He had even begged her not to tell anyone about her vision, hadn’t he?

“Just because you haven’t told anyone doesn’t mean they don’t know. There are other ways to find things out than being told. You would do well to remember that.”

They were quiet the rest of the way through the forest, Elain’s head spinning with Kallias’ warning. The centaur stayed away from the path, cutting straight through the dense forest. Eventually Elain began to hear the sound of the crowd filtering in through the trees, and Kallias came to a stop, bending his knees to let her down.

“This is where I leave you, Elain Archeron. Remember what I told you, and be careful who you trust. Some people are not always as they appear.” With that he angled his head in a bow, his white hair falling gracefully over his shoulder. And then he was gone, as quick and graceful as the unicorn she had seen earlier.

When Elain emerged from the forest she was hit with a cacophony of sound and activity, such a contrast to the silence of the forest that for a few moments she simply blinked in shock. She was dimly aware of multiple people rushing towards her, and showing them the unicorn hair, to the crowd’s delight. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and she let herself get ushered back into the tent, grateful for the relative quiet.

“You did it! Well done, dear!” Professor Alis was grinning from ear to ear, holding a broomstick in her hand. “You’re the first to finish!”

Elain blinked in surprise. It had felt like she’d been in the forest for hours.

Just then Lucien entered the tent, holding a broomstick, his brother’s arm wrapped protectively around him. He looked a bit green, and seemed to be leaning heavily on Eris.

“Archie,” he said, his face splitting in a smile. “See? Told you it’d be a cakewalk.”

Elain huffed a laugh, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself. It had been warmed by magic, thawing the chill that had settled deep into her bones.

“Is that why you look like you’re about to hurl?”

“Just a casual encounter with some giant spiders,” he said, shrugging lazily.

“Some…what?”

The crowd in the stands roared again, and Elain hurried outside the tent, despite Professor Alis’ protests that she needed to rest. The sight waiting for her was not what she had been expecting.

Nesta and Rhys were descending off the back of a hippogriff, the students assembled in the stands going wild at the sight. Nesta bowed to the creature, who dipped its eagle head in response and then spread its wings wide. With a rush of air it rose in the sky, swooping over the stands before disappearing over the Forbidden Forest.

Elain rushed forward and threw her arms around her sister, who hugged her back so tight her breath was cut short. “Nes! I’m fine!”

“I never want to go back in there,” her sister declared, though the triumphant look in her eyes said otherwise. “But boy do I have a story for you.”

Elain laughed. “Same. What happened to Rhys?”

The Slytherin champion was currently bent double, leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest for support.

Nesta grinned wickedly. “Oh, well. I was flying out of the forest with my new friend, and I saw him being chased by a bunch of giant spiders. Thought I’d save his ass for some extra points.”

Elain laughed weakly, suddenly very glad that the creature she had encountered had been a centaur and not a horde of giant spiders.

The six judges had gathered at the edge of the stands, heads bent together in conversation. All of them were wearing dark cloaks and looking slightly wind-swept. Strangely, the other ministry member, Bartemius Koschei, was standing slightly away from the other judges. He looked slightly dazed, his eyes wide and unfocused.

“They’re about to put up the scores,” Lucien said, coming to stand beside them. “It’s marks out of ten from each one.”

“Champions!” Eris Vanserra’s magically amplified voice rang out over the din of the crowd. “If you’ll gather round, the judges are now ready to award your scores. The Slytherin champion will be first.”

Elain glanced at the edge of the forest, where Rhys seemed to have only slightly recovered. “Think he’ll get any points at all?” she whispered with a giggle.

“Doubtful,” Nesta and Lucien answered in unison.

“For showing bravery in the face of an angry horde of Acromantulas, but failing to complete the task and ultimately needing rescue, the judges have awarded Rhysand a score of twenty points.”

“That’s way more than he deserves,” Nesta said drily.

“For Ravenclaw. Nesta was third to complete the task, but her delay was caused by her determination to help her fellow champion escape the forest safely. For this moral fibre, the judges award her fifty points.”

The Ravenclaw students in the stands erupted in cheers.

“Not bad!” Nesta said with a grin. “I knew helping that prick would be worth it”

“Next, for Hufflepuff. For displaying an astounding amount of cleverness and problem-solving skills, and for being the first to complete the task, we award Elain fifty five points.”

Elain’s jaw dropped open. “Fifty five? That’s way more than I deserve.”

The crowd did not seem to agree with her, however. It wasn’t only Hufflepuffs cheering for her, but Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, too. Maybe when it came down to it, when they had seen what the champions were facing, the students had decided it didn’t matter how her name had come out of the cauldron. She was as much a champion as the others.

“And finally, for Gryffindor. My dear brother also ran into a spot of trouble with the Acromantulas, but managed to escape quite cleverly, and was the second to complete the task. For this, we also award him fifty five points.”

“Look at that!” Lucien said with a grin, nudging her shoulder. “We’re tied for first.”

“Well done champions! You’ve got a nice long break until your second task, which will take place on February twenty-fourth. Instructions will be given out very soon. Until then- you’ll want to hang onto those unicorn hairs. For those of you who have them, that is.”

“What!” Rhysand sputtered, looking outraged.

Students were descending from the stands, rushing onto the lawn towards their champions. Two identical blurs were bolting towards Elain, and she laughed as her friends enveloped her in a hug and bombarded her with questions.

“Oh my god, are you ok?!”

“You’re tied for first!”

“What the hell happened in there?”

“Oh, you know,” she said casually, “I made friends with a hot centaur. No big deal.”

The twins gaped at her, and Elain could only laugh again as she looped her arms through theirs and walked back towards the school. She felt lighter than she had in weeks, her thoughts consumed by nothing other than a hot bath and her bed, where she could hopefully sleep for at least a week.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #I'M SO SORRY RHYS

[lorcandidlucienwill]

For Day 3 of @tamlinweek , I am posting part of my Tamlin fic (Tamlin's Life Story: A Tragedy)! We are told that the mating bond is beautiful and everything everyone should wish for, but I don't believe Tamlin has a very good experience with the mating bond; his own parents were mated and terrible for each other.

So, this is a little dark, but what if Tamlin's mate was Amarantha? It would explain her obsession with him. Tamlin, by rejecting Amarantha in that little gathering (right before she took the High Lords' powers), rejected the mating bond and incited rage in Amarantha. What was it like for Tamlin when he first met Amarantha, when he was forced to be with her UTM, and after he killed her? Full fic can be found here: TW: mild descriptions of child SA, violence, angst

He still dreamt of it. When he was just a child, and he'd seen the Hybern general for the first time. Red hair with streaks of black, like her hair had been soaked with so much blood that it had mostly changed color, the streaks the only remnant of her that hadn't been corrupted. When he'd longed for acceptance from his father, receiving nothing but the barbed whip across his back for being a failure of a courtier, for playing his fiddle for the handsome Night Court lord he couldn't help but love, Amarantha had spoken to him.

She'd embraced him and told him he was worth every last bit of Prythian, and their mating bond had clicked in. So what if she caressed his chest far too possessively to be casual? So what if she grabbed him through his pants, sometimes squeezing hard enough to cause pain? She had told him he was valuable. That was more than his father ever did. The scars on his back were so numerous that nobody would be able to count them. But while Amarantha left bruises, none of them stayed.

It was only when she'd tried to strip him that he'd begged her to stop. He told her he was too young, that he was scared, that he had no idea what he was doing, that he wasn't comfortable with a sexual relationship at this point in time. In her rage, she'd ripped his antlers out with her bare hands and carved out his abdomen with them. It was only by a miracle that he'd escaped that place. He'd barely made it to his father, who'd saved his life.

Only to give him the worst beating of his life. By the time it was done, Tamlin was crying tears of blood. Yet, that wasn't the worst pain in the world. No, it was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in his chest. The golden thread, his last hope for joy in this world, snapped in one moment. The mating bond. He was in such torment that he was sure it would kill him. Unfortunately, he lived. And lived. And lived.

*********************************************************************** He lost track of the days. He couldn't remember his own name. He remembered nothing. At least in his earlier days of pain and abuse and sexual assault and torture, he'd felt something. There was meaning to his life, a hope for better. But now...it was an endless sea of agony. There were no coherent thoughts in his brain, only a dull, throbbing ache that sought to take him under and finish it. He wished it would. He prayed that the yawning blackness would simply embrace him. Unfortunately, it didn't. It was almost worse this way, that he'd gotten the taste of what it was like to have the semblance of a happy life, only to have it ripped away from him at the last moment.

He tried to remember something, anything, to make him keep going. Feyre, a phantom voice sometimes whispered. Lucien. But the burning pain quickly whisked those words away. He did not understand their significance, anyway. They sounded like made up words. Soon, he stopped trying to remember. He'd forgotten what he was fighting for. Amarantha demanded answers out of him that he couldn't give- she didn't understand that he was broken. Nothing she did to him could break him when he was already in pieces.

Until she came. Until suddenly breath returned to his lungs and he had a reason to breathe again. And reason to be absolutely terrified. He begged her to go, but she didn't. She stood there, bold as brass, and claimed him as her own. And Tamlin had never loved anyone more. He watched her get tortured, and he felt again. Rage and sorrow beyond a human's dizziest daydreams, but it was feeling. When the court had adjourned, Lucien had snuck over to him. His face was pale and ragged, but Tamlin also glimpsed something there he hadn't seen in a while: hope. Just the slightest glimpse of it.

"I swear to you, Tamlin," Lucien whispered, hands on his face, staring into his eyes, clouding Tamlin's senses, "I will do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Everything within my power, I will do it." Oh, Lucien. His bold, brave, selfless Lucien. Tamlin choked out the words, "Thank you." Lucien's face hardened with resolve. "Thank me by never giving in. No matter what happens, don't you dare give up." Tamlin stared into his beautiful mismatched eyes. "I swear it." **********************************************************************

However Tamlin had felt under the mountain, it was gone now.

Now that everything had settled back in, he could feel it. The mating bond threatening to split him in two. He'd rejected his own mate and then he'd killed her. And now it drove him mad at times.

Lucien was no longer enough to help him. He hired Ianthe to help with the wedding preparations, and he tried to forget his pain. He succeeded for the most part, his trauma only coming back to haunt him at night. Amarantha touching him, Lucien's broken back before him, Feyre's neck snapping-

It was the mating bond that bothered him most of the time. It was like a migraine that just wouldn't go away. His temper, which wasn't the best, he could admit, got much worse owing to the constant migraine. But how could he tell anyone his secret shame- that he'd been mated to Amarantha? That there was once a time he'd sought comfort in her?

He couldn't let her train. Ianthe was right. What if they came after her? What if her power drew Rhysand back? He couldn't allow that. He'd heard her neck snap, heard it in his dreams again and again and again and-

"Please, let her train," Lucien pleaded. Tamlin tried to concentrate on him over the roaring in his head. "Let her master this, so that she can protect herself when enemies come."

At the word enemies, Tamlin's entire body seized up. Magic exploded out of him, falling on Lucien and blasting him backward. Lucien glared at him, loathing simmering in his eyes. But he said nothing after that; only walking away before Tamlin could get on his knees and beg for his forgiveness.

#lucien vanserra #tamlin #tamlin week 2024 #feyre archeron #feylin #tamcien #pro tamlin #angst #amarantha

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Lucien Van Helsing

SURPRISE VILLAIN TIME! In seriousness, here's one of the only assholes in this world on par with Felix and Lila. As usual, @artzychic27 and @imsparky2002!

Species: Human

Appearance/Attire: Tall and muscular, coiffed brown hair with a rat-tail, tanned skin littered with battle scars, brown eyes. Black wide-rimmed fedora, with a band made of vampire fangs, black eyepatch (that he has no need for), sleeveless red muscle tank with Anti-Monster decal, brown leather vest with (werewolf) fur collar and family crest painted on back, red fingerless leather gloves with hard knuckles made of gorgon scales, crossbow strapped to back, grey leather belt equipped with various weapons, including poisons, silver knives, and a whip made from a reinforced vine from a plant monster, black leather pants, red combat boots with retractable spikes in the soles.

Bio: The latest hunter in the Van Helsing bloodline, Lucien is a cruel and sadistic young man who loves nothing more than for monsters to die horribly at his hands. Lucien follows his family's creed of wiping out all of monster kind as law, which is why he's allied himself with Felix, serving as one of his top-ranking lieutenants. He holds deep hatred for his boss' cousin, Adrien, due to him 'disgracing' the name of his family, i.e. revealing the numerous atrocities they've committed against monsters, and has sworn to make him pay for it. He also has an...unsettling obsession with a certain moth.

Quotes:

"Well well, we meet again, my pretty little moth."

"My great-great-great-you get the gist, grandfather always said that monsters are happier when they're dead."

"Two bloodsuckers for the price of one. Must be a lucky day for a hunt!"

"(To Felix) Are you sure we can't just kill the harpy?"

"A good hunter always keeps their weapons at the ready and in prime condition!"

"Let's send these freaks back to Hell!"

He's out to rid the world of anyone different! Leave thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #ml au #school for monstrous youths #mlb oc #lucien rebois #abraham van helsing #monster hunter #villain

[acourtofthought]

"wicked slashing scar"

"brutal scar"

"brutally scarred face"

"cruel beauty"

You know, SJM made no mention of Elain's beauty in ACOTAR outside of her desire to still look lovely despite poverty.

It wasn't until ACOMAF, once she realized Elucien would be mates, that she noted Elain's looks were a defining feature of hers.

And by then, we had already been made aware that Lucien had some insecurities regarding his scar:

While Elain and Lucien are extremely similar in personality and personal beliefs, the most important reasons for making them mates, I kind of love that SJM took her most scarred character (because a fake eye and scar running down the length of his face, not to mention the scars he has from when Tamlin was forced to whip him, are pretty intense and the first thing someone notices when looking at Lucien) and paired him with someone whose beauty was first described as "soft and lovely" then "devastatingly beautiful" after being made.

Something about that contrast (her soft and lovely beauty with his cruel beauty) gives me the feels.

It's not a contrast that forces them to give up the parts of themselves that matter, for example, Elain being troubled by cruelty but ending up with someone who is extremely violent, but a contrast that shows how appearances are only skin deep.

Personally I really dislike the idea of "the prettiest" Archeron with the "prettiest" batboy because it seems extremely shallow. Like someone expecting that two people must be together because they were rated "most attractive guy and girl" in the yearbook (is that still a thing? It used to be) and that's the vibe I get when Feyre thinks of how handsome Elain and Az would be. The only reasons she could picture them together was because they'd share "peace and quiet" and both possessed certain physical attributes. That is definitely not enough to build a relationship on.

Make no mistake, Lucien is handsome but his is not that of an air brushed perfection and there will always be a stigma that comes along with those who first meet him. Curiosity, shock, maybe a bit of fear.

And it's something I'm sure he's already dealt with many times over, cataloging the very many reactions others have the moment they set eyes on him, their constant stares.

Jesminda knew Lucien before Amarantha forever scarred him and while I think the majority of his closing himself off from emotional connection had to do with loyalty to her, I do think we'll find that he doubts whether anyone else could even want to be with him, knowing that he's basically the only fae around with facial imperfections. Many characters have voiced how attractive he is however once an insecurity takes root, it's difficult to weed out.

Sure Ianthe wanted him but that was for own self serving purposes, a way to get ahead.

So if Elucien were to end up together, it would be powerful for them both.

Everyone is under the impression that Elain is a bit shallow and is only concerned with looking her best, Nesta even remembers her mother saying Elain would marry for "beauty" and love and that she did not dream beyond her "pretty dresses".

So falling for a male who, while truly handsome, has some very major imperfections (which make him all the more perfect to us Lucien stans), would show that Elain cares more about what is inside. Because Lucien is pretty perfect in that department.

And with Lucien's insecurities about his face, imagine what it would feel like to know that the most beautiful female he'd ever seen was the one who chose him regardless of his perceived "imperfections". That she wanted him just as he was.

Not that that would be his reason for wanting her, just as it wasn't Rhys's reason for wanting Feyre. However it would definitely be the cherry on top of it all.

❤️

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #anti e/riel #elucien bond #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

[rere-the-writer]

Hi love. I wanted to ask you if you can do an Elijah fluff where the reader is a witch and she is Lucien Castel's little sister and she wants to escape from him. Elijah meets the reader and decides to take her home and take care of her till they kill Lucien. Elijah falls in love with her but doesn't say anything about it but when the reader comes back to the Mikaelsons after a walk, she comes full of bruises and blood and breathing heavily all because of Lucien. Elijah takes her upstairs and cleans her wounds and the blood realizing she has lots of scars anyway all over her body. In that night Elijah says everything about his feelings for her and you can add a bit of smut in here only if you want. I hope you will accept my request, I love your writing!❤

Oh boy Imma make this fluffy angst

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Protective!Elijah, Smut 18+, Lucien being the worst brother, abuse, mentions of a loss of child

You shivered as walked while it was pouring rain after managed to escape from your older brother, Lucien. You were a powerful witch forced to do magic for your brother and over the years Lucien had abused you and controlling every little thing you did. When you both arrived to New Orleans and met with Klaus and Elijah again as memories flooded you seeing Elijah again.

You had been staying with the Mikaelsons when Elijah took you from your brother as the Original was worried you would get caught between Klaus and Luicen. While staying with Elijah, the vampire fell for you as you both seemed to have a deep connection since you understood Elijah so well. But while taking a walk your brother found you and had been the worst than he had ever been to you believing that you told the Mikaelsons his secrets.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you finally reached the Abattoir and right away the Mikaelsons were at your side. Elijah narrowed his eyes seeing the state you were in blood covered you as your dress was torn from the beating you escaped from.

"What happened little witch?"

"Lucien found me but as you can see I escaped. He is angry that I am leaving him."

"Here allow me to care for her." Elijah says trying to calm down moving over lifting you up. Once in Elijah's bathroom, you were fed Elijah's blood to heal and for the vampire to clean you up.

"Then leave Lucien to Kol and I." Klaus said smirking seeing how Elijah was looking at you. It was no secret to the other Mikaelsons that Elijah was in love with you as the Original was always with you.

"Has Lucien always been like this?"

"Centuries." You tell Elijah as you undressed getting into the bath and Elijah saw a huge scar on your back and looked over the other scars over your body. You jumped feeling Elijah's fingers touch your back and you looked over your shoulder seeing the dark look in Elijah's eyes.

"Did he do this?"

"Yes....I barely survived."

England, 1807

"How dare you! You ruined everything!" Lucien shouted at you as you let another cry as the whip hit your back. You shook feeling weak as your back bloody from the crack of the whip.

"Allowing some lowly servant to touch you." Lucien growled hitting your back with the whip again. You had slept with a butler that you fell for while Lucien already had plans to sell you off to some Noble.

"Being with his child! You did this to spite me didn't you little sister?" Lucien growled roughly pulling your head up by your hair making you cry out trying to tell him no. That night your maids found you bleeding, bruised and almost dead as they helped you.

"I lost everything that night. Lucien killed Adrian infront of me as another lesson and since then I stayed by his side."

"You don't have have to." Elijah whispered his touch gentle against your skin as you shivered leaning into his touch.

"He'll come for me."

"I will not allow him to take you from me." Elijah says surprised when you turned around kissing him making him growl kissing back taking control right away. You against Elijah's mouth and soon found yourself pressed against his bed.

"Elijah." You said softly sounding breathy reaching up touching Elijah's bare chest as his hands moved along your bare legs. Elijah leaned down captured a nipple in his mouth pulling a soft mewl from you as a pleasure shot down your back.

"Beautiful and sound so sweet." Elijah purred against your chest moving to your other breast pulling more heavenly sounds from you. Elijah pressed soft gentle kisses on every scar on your skin as he made his way down your body. You felt like you couldn't breathe as Elijah had buried his face between your thighs.

"Eli...I..can't...." You were cut off by a loud moan arching as Elijah flatten his tongue on your clit. Elijah growled against you pulling you closer by your hips enjoying your taste as he relished in your sounds.

Your hand found his hair pulling it as you came on his tongue and he finally pulled away seeing how wreaked your were. You looked teary-eyed up at Elijah feeling him settle between your legs licking his lips leaning down kissing you deeply. Elijah let out a low moan as he sank into your dripping center.

"There we are my sweet witch. You feel incredible." Elijah groaned into your neck rolling his hips and marking your neck as you gripped his shoulders. You felt the wind be knocked out of your lungs as Elijah gave his first real thrust.

"Eli....harder." You whimpered moving your hips to match his thrusts as Elijah lifted your legs up over his shoulders getting deeper. Elijah looked at you with dark eyes as he thrust harder as his thumb found your clit watching you arch off the bed.

"Look at you, unable to speak. Is my little witch close?" Elijah says lowly, his baritone voice like pleasure to your ears as your gripped the sheets. You were shaking tears falling from your eyes as Elijah smirked hitting the right spot seeing you throw your head back crying out loud.

You were unable to speak as Elijah pressed your knees against your chest thrusting harder growling when you bit his shoulder cumming hard. You whined as Elijah came feeling him kiss your damp neck, your chest heaved looking at Elijah.

"I love you." You rasped out voice raw from screaming his name as Elijah felt his heart fluffer and kissed you softly

"I love you more, little witch." Elijah said just as softly pulling out and moved to clean you up. You woke up hours later feeling Elijah's arms around your waist pulling you close and you looked seeing it was dark out.

"You alright baby? You should be sleeping."

"Yes....thank you Elijah."

"For what?" Elijah asked softly pressing kisses on your skin as you rolled over nuzzling his chest."

"For saving me."

"Always and Forever."

#rere's stories #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson angst

[elriell]

Two Mates? Elriel & (El)ucien Theory.

These are just a few of my thoughts compiled together regarding having two mates, the signs and breadcrumbs Sarah has incorporated. If you know me you know am a Lucien fan so this is nothing hateful towards him and we will be looking at his place within it all as well, that being said this will have bond rejection/misalignment talk so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and you can skip this! As always I would love to hear everyones thoughts so long as we are all respectful ♡

Let's start by discussing the where the two ships align and parallel mates behaviour, and then we will discuss where their arc's veer from each other...

“TOUCH HER, SMELL HER, TASTE HER– THE INSTINCTS WERE A RUNNING RIVER.” (Lucien in ACOWAR about the mating bond.)

“Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.”

“Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.”

“They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. ”

“He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. ”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. ”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like.”

“This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.  

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. ”

Now you can easily parallel this to any of SJM's mates, like Feysand or Nessian. But for the sake of brevity I will leave you with the original link to the wonderful @suelky post where it was pointed out w/ Feysand quotes as well. [source]

Also "The instincts were a running river.” sounds a little like “Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea."

The Bonus POV has a lot of typical "Mates" behaviours manifesting between Elain and Azriel, and it would make sense this would be a extreme POV shift as we have never been inside either of their heads before so we were bound to have a major learning curve, especially with Az who is so reserved with his emotions.

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—”

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck  someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."  Azriel snarled softly.”

There are countless main trio parallels but most of you are aware of which one is my favourite...

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

"Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he'd find himself on his knees, begging her for touch, for anything."

And on to where they go their separate ways from a textual perspective;

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“Rhys kissed the hollow of my collarbone, and my core went utterly molten. “My brave, bold, brilliant mate.”

“You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look—which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.”

“And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.”

“Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.” He kissed my brow one more time, my blood thrumming and boiling in me, howling to draw blood.”

I think finding freedom and power from within is something that the books have emphasized through Feysand and Nessian's journey's. Which is so interesting considering Lucien and Elain are both feeling tied to each other, as if in a cage of sorts.

Elain herself has been stuffed in to a box of other peoples making throughout most of the series, it quite prevalent she might feel caged by their opinions of who she is.

"Maybe she was never given a chance to be that way." I whipped my head towards him. "You think I stifle her?" Rhys held up his hands. "Not you alone."

“Nesta had been right. It was like a prison, this place.” [Graysen's Manor]

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

And as for Lucien I think his duty and honour to her is what is caging him;

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.”

“Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Godbless Azriel for respecting Elain's privacy.

I think we would see/understand a lot more if we got a chance inside their heads but the one time we did see Lucien's POV we got a good glimpse at how he feels about his situation with Elain and it wasn't particularly positive and reminded me of Rhy's parents.

"She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.”

“...to remember that she picked it. Picked me. That it’s not like my parents, shoved together.”

Not using the word cage per say but the implication isn't much better.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

I don't think the debate is really whether Lucien is deserving of her, or even Azriel for that matter, it is a question of who is actually right for her and vice-versa, who has she been consistently written to thrive and smile alongside. And that is Azriel.

Why does Sarah constantly put Azriel in the picture, from day DOT. She was screaming "hey look Azriel is here, and they would work magically together"

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.”

There are several instances/evens that occur throughout the series that set both Elucien and Elriel's relationships apart, and I think it is highly intentional on Sarah's part...

“I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.”

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Or we can look at both Solstice's and the clear differences in how their relationships are growing, and also how well one and other know each other.

“Tell me when you knew,” he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option  of leaving if it became too much.  Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.”

&

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

“Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.”

GIFTS REFLECTING THEIR RELATIONSHIP MILE MARKS

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” “And torn up by thorns,” I mused,”

“I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.”

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Not only is she visibly uninterested which is painful to watch, it also highlights how little he knows about her. SJM is creating a visible gap in their dynamic.

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. ”

“My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.”

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta … ”

“She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

“I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples,”

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.”

“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid.  Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

See yet again a very thoughtful and funny gift on her part. Now at it's core even just simply comparing their general reactions says a lot about the story Sarah is putting forward.

"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."  

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly."

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. "

The writing is nothing if not clear about the discomfort both Lucien and Elain feel in regards to each other, though they lay under different reasons.

We are given multiple incidents in which we are told about how mating bonds are not perfect and we are given clear examples of it repeatedly, about woman enduring out of obligation, and do not forget this is heavily discussed literally in regards to Elain and her circumstances.

“She’d been revealed as his mate, and endured the miserable union mostly from gratitude for her unharmed wings.”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. "

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room,”

“Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around,”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.”

VS

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

What if ”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.”

The romantic subtext is there and has been for quite some time, they prove it book after book when SJM continues to grow their bond and nurture it whilst breaking her connection with Lucien further apart, and for what reason?

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some… preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” [...]

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”

“The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

It is remarkably interesting to me that we are told about what Rhys suspects/believes is responsible for mating bonds, paralleled alongside Azriel questioning it all, I also think it is abundantly clear from his answer to Feyre he doesn't truly know for sure.

We also have several lines of dialogue talking about the sisters and fate, their reason for entering the IC's life. Not only that but we get a glimpse at Azriel's personality and how despite the world (Rhys and the mating bond in general) telling him to despair, he still found it in him to have hope the Cauldron could be wrong.

This is so significant, and she has carefully woven his character throughout the series to make this incredibly plausible.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“And then he said to my sisters, “We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we’ll find out why.”

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.”

“Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but …”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

As you can see even back in ACOWAR she was weaving the web for Elriel's journey and an upcoming Blood Duel/The threat of one.

“Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I think it is pretty clear from all the quotes above that Lucien is no her ideal spirit and vice-versa to be frank when you put it side by side his budding relationship with Vassa or hers with Azriel they are clearly very different.

“On the continent, there are territories that believe the females literally belong to their mate. But not here. Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond.”

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.  Offer and permission.  He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. ”

Elain is choosing Azriel, choosing their bond over the one assigned to her time and time again... Back to mating bonds;

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

“The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

"She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.”

“Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

"Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

“Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”

Are you telling me that Madja saying a mate would know, would sense whatever is going on with her, and as it turns out Azriel was the one to sense and uncover it is solely what, a coincidence? Also to emphasize what she said about "A bridge between souls..." Where else have we heard that terminology? The Truth-Teller scene.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Not to mention this scene is simply iconic for a multitude of reasons, how poetic Feyre describes them, the clear soulmates/ying-yang subtext and him giving her something he has given no other but that's another story.

Azriel has also been displaying some very protective fiercely so mating vibes towards her,

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. ”

“Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.”

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

“Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

I think there are some mixed opinions on Lucien and whether he deserves her (and vice-versa in this fandom) but I don't think that is what this comes down too, they are both handling it in the way they think best/following their instincts.

Lucien is hurting throughout this process as well, but I think ultimately it is honor and loyalty binding him to her not any genuine emotion for her as a human being fae. I think realising they are not meant for each other and supporting each other developing true bonds with other people will be their journey. And it would be a completely fresh and new view of a mating bond.

Smaller pieces of dialogue that need little explaining and a rather oddly specific choice of words in the latest book that is meant to set up the next one in the series:

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

“Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

"I'd never do such a thing. you must be thinking of your other mate."

Honestly? At this rate I have no doubt Elriel are endgame and everything within canon text spells that out but I truly believe he will be her second mate/the will form a bond via some circumstance that shall arise due to these little hints.

I would love to hear your thoughts and/or additions because I by all means didn't do a massive deep dive and there are most likely tons more examples to add but I didn't want it to become overwhelming to read!

Hope everyone has a spectacular and magical evening <3

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acosf #acowar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #elriel mates #elriel theories #elriel metas #anti elucien #tb safe and all that #dont want it falling in the wrong tag #c

[gripefroot]

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲1❳

The throne was white. 

No - it was every color of a sunset. With the descending sun blazing behind it, it turned gold and orange and pink and purple. New shades spreading across with each passing minute as night crept on. And beneath it - shadows lengthened and spread from the carved base, wild and free. 

The throne beckoned. Come sit, it said to me. Come take your place. 

Beyond the throne were marble pillars that stretched proudly into the sky, woven with vines of moonflowers and orchids. I could not see any roof - dusky clouds obscured the view. And below, far, far below - the sea rippled in shining waves, beating against the island in shimmering hues. Boats with bone-white sails seemed to drift forever. Distantly I could hear voices: voices laughing and talking and teasing and bargaining. The calls of animals, the hammer of forges. 

And everything smelled of salt and fragrant flowers and lemon. 

But I could feel, rather than see, what was making my heart wrench away from the lovely sight. A hand outstretched in front of that throne, leading up to a smiling face clear of sorrow and fear. 

A scarred hand. Extended from the dark, and I knew that between us was where light and shadow met.

Come sit, he said, echoing the throne. Come take your place, and I’ll be at your side forever.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The night was an inky black shield dotted with silver and gold. Velaris far below, the stars above and only the whistling wind and thump of his own heart for company: Azriel’s gaze honed in on the House of Wind as he descended, and hoped that none would question his tardiness. 

His boots landed silently on an upper balcony.

Halls were unlit, creeping with silence. The shadows that came with him curled around his neck and ears, whispering that nearly everyone was asleep. There would be no interrogation that night, at least - though breakfast might be another matter. But that would be for the morning. He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood panels for several heartbeats before turning wearily away to find his rest. 

A cozy fire had flickered itself to life, the wrought-iron window springing open to let in more of that sweet night air. He lingered only to unstrap himself of weapons, setting them on the table beside his bed as his thoughts skittered and bit at him like hungry wolves. 

Azriel had been gnawed for so long he wondered how they found any part of him left to devour. 

Truth-Teller shone like a void in the light as he pulled it from its sheath, if only to look at it. Scarred thumb tracing over the hilt - with a sigh he shoved it back in, and put it aside. 

The knock on his door was so quiet that he might not have heard it, had the shadows spreading from him not trembled in response. They slithered up the door to turn the knob, his head lifting in a jerk as he scented his visitor - the sweet, heady jasmine that wore itself on her skin like a blessing. Or a spell. 

A click behind her. The door was closed. 

The wolves barked. Azriel turned, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture as he forced himself, as he always had, to keep his expression even. To betray nothing. Even though the sight of her lace robe over a silken, lilac gown that displayed her creamy throat so well was enough to move him to his knees. To say nothing of the loose curls hanging down her back - wanting to be touched. Wanting him to bury his face there and breathe her in until she lived beneath his skin - 

“You were missed,” Elain said. 

“I was occupied,” Azriel said shortly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and at his glower the shadows that crept curiously around the hem of her nightgown scattered, leaving her free to glow in the golden light of the fire. 

“Why don’t you come to family dinners anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than rain. 

He swallowed. A tremor went through his wings, and he stretched them out slightly to ease the tautness. Her eyes flitted to them over his shoulders. He saw the bob of her throat. “You know why,” Azriel told her in a hoarse, harsh voice. 

Elain lifted her chin, though the expression in her lovely eyes shimmered. “If it’s me you’re avoiding, I’ll stop going,” she said.

“No.”

“You should be with your family. They miss you.” 

“No,” Azriel said again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can attend, pretending that nothing’s wrong with me,” Elain said. “That my heart doesn’t hurt more each time you don’t appear. Azriel,” she breathed, and his spine stiffened as if brushed with a tender finger from root to tip. “I - I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t want the reminder that you - that you don’t want to see me.” 

Secrets were best whispered alone in the night: Azriel had always known that. Known that honesty could burst out at the right moments, if prodded enough, uncaring of the consequences it could bring.

As for him - the consequence was like a poisoned knife between his ribs, where he felt the emptiest. 

“The best solution is for you to go instead of me,” Elain went on in his silence. “I’ll be happier knowing you are.” 

“I’m not happy,” Azriel said. But she merely lifted her slender shoulders, the lace rustling against the silk. As if she didn’t care to wonder why he’d said it; the extent of what he’d meant. His honesty was kept deeper down and further back. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone who could hurt him. 

“I’m not going to go to family dinners anymore,” she told him. As if her mind was made up. “I hope you do.” 

“You’re hurt when I’m not there,” he said. “No different than I am at your absence.” 

It was all the game. It had to be. The repeating, the declarations, the anguish: pushing at the walls each of them had built around the other, as if looking for weak spots. To crumble, or to build back better. Azriel didn’t know. Something in him was howling. 

Elain’s eyes began to glitter. The shift of the firelight against her hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed - 

Something clattered from elsewhere in the house. Azriel stiffened, wings snapping in as his gaze darted to the door behind her. He ground out between his teeth, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I want to be,” she whispered. “I can’t stay away.” 

The jasmine - he realized her scent wasn’t fresh and blooming. He’d noticed it when she first came in. It was heady. Like it had been scorching under the summer sun, begging for water; thirst to be parched, or the petals to be plucked and treasured - 

Azriel’s head spun. The wolves that ate at him yipped and scratched and whined. They wanted. They wanted. 

“If you’re looking for release,” he said in a low growl, fingers clenching into fists at his side. Cracking a whip at himself to quiet the wolves, but still they snarled.  “Lucien Vanserra can be summoned.” 

“I don’t want Lucien,” Elain said sharply. The color was high in her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind one of her delicate ears, the simple motion drawing his attention like a drawn bowstring. “I want you.” 

His next words were difficult, but he forced them out: “Rhys has...commanded that we stay apart.”

“Rhysand isn't my High Lord. I’ve sworn no oath to him.” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “He can't command me.”

“He commands me,” Azriel said. 

“Then tell him I coerced you. Whatever you need.” The lightness in her voice was pleading. Begging. Her slender hands trembled, eyelashes stark against her skin as she blinked furiously. Desperate. 

“No. I won't let you face censure, or - or punishment - ”

“Not being with you is punishment every day,” Elain cut him off, and Azriel nearly swallowed his own tongue as he saw the glitter in her eyes escape to trail a silver path down her flushed cheeks. “Lucien is punishment for me, isn't he? I was given to someone I don't love. Someone I don’t want. While you are denied to me. Is this not punishment?”

Every fiber in his body wanted to cross the space between them: to reach out, to dry the tears and to hold her in his arms until she stopped trembling. Until that gaping wound beneath his ribs was whole and glowing again - 

Azriel didn’t smile, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It feels like it.” 

Her bottom lip quivered. Then, “Please,” in a yearning whisper that started unthreading him from his very bones. The wolves purred as he took a step closer to her. 

“Elain,” he murmured, and she trembled at her name, eyes closing briefly as if to savor it. “They’ll know. It...it can’t be hidden. I’d leave my scent all over you. And you on me. And I’d never, ever want to wash it off.” 

“It’ll wear off,” she said. 

“In days? Weeks? How long will we hide?” 

Elain didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, unclenching his fists as he breathed slowly through his nose. 

“It's not just that, either,” Azriel said, and her head was tilting upwards to watch him, hungry and hot as he towered over her. “Once I have you...I won't be able to stop wanting to have you. Over and over again, in every way imaginable. I don't want to live another day on this earth without tasting you on my tongue. Smelling you on my skin. Feeling you. I would…” 

He trailed off, realizing that the night had somehow wrung more honesty from him than he’d ever intended. Her eyes blazed up at him, and daring, he lifted a hand to rest his scarred fingertips on the lace at her breast, beneath which he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat. 

“I would want to be here, inside of you.” 

“Please,” Elain whispered again, barely more than a warm breath that brushed against his face like a shadow - but those stayed back. “Please, Azriel. I'm not afraid. Not of Rhys, not of Lucien. I'm afraid....of what my life will be without you. I'm afraid of wanting you for the rest of my life with no hope of having you.”

Her fingers curled over his on her breast, cool to the touch and he shivered head to toe as her thumb stroked along a rippled, white scar. Not even noticing it, with her eyes melting so intently as she stared at him. Lips slightly parted, only a few inches from his and ready to be tasted, and savored and worshipped. 

“Even if you refuse,” she went on, pressing his hand tighter to the skin-warmed lace. “You’ll always be here, where you always have been." 

“There’s nothing in me that can deny you,” Azriel said. Swallowed. “Elain.”

“Azriel…” 

“You could ask me to tear down Ramiel with my bare hands and I would,” he breathed. “I would tear apart any part of this world. If you asked me to carve out my own heart, I would.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Elain said gently. Mirror of him, her slender hand brushed up his chest - a shudder enough to cause an earthquake ripped through him. Without armor, only a dark shirt of cotton was between their skin. He could feel the warmth of her flesh as her palm splayed over his heart. “I’m only asking for you.” 

The drumming in his head must be his heartbeat. A warning, perhaps - or fate zeroed in on this moment. Where a future was held taut between them. A question between souls. Dark and light, as they’d always been. His dark, her light: she offered it freely. 

Will you have me?

Will you risk it all?

He could see in her shining eyes. I would risk it all for you.

“You want me,” Azriel said. Half a question. She’d already said it. At the dip of her head in assent, he closed the remaining distance between them with a step. The slight gasp between her lips warmed his face, but he didn’t give her the kiss she wanted - the kiss she’d asked for long ago - the kiss that he’d dreamt of until his soul was used up and dry. No, three more strides backed her against the wall as he heard her heart flutter madly beneath his hand. Closer still: he braced his opposite hand above her head, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper as his knee came between her legs. Trapping her. Pinning her. 

She trembled. But it wasn’t the acrid scent of her fear that was making her eyes bright. 

It was want. 

“I’m dangerous,” he growled in a low voice. Still Elain didn’t tear her eyes from his, even as her fingers balls into a fist with his shirt between them. “This is dangerous. You and me.” 

“I don’t care.” Not the breathy tone he’d expected. Something thornier, stonier, as she lifted her chin to face him more fully. But it just exposed more of that creamy, unblemished throat to him. An invitation. 

Azriel tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Hair hung in his face, and her fingers softly brushed it aside. Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Summer, heady, hot flowers; slow-dripping honey - 

Chest to chest, pressing closer as if their skin would fall away and they’d be just one person from then on. His leg lifted slightly, the rustle of lace and silk - and he felt her, through the layers, as her dark lashes closed, lips parting in an uneven breath and he heard, more with his heart than his ears,

“Oh - ”

He’d rather be boiled by the Cauldron than face Rhys after this. 

And it would still be worth it. To watch the rose-pink deepen in her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open again. On his thigh she throbbed, and if he tried to push her away, he knew she’d rip his shirt apart, so tightly was she clinging to him. 

“Are you scared, Elain?” Azriel whispered. 

“No.” 

Her eyes had glazed slightly. Like she’d gone drunk at a sip of wine, yet stared down the bottle ready to drink it to the last drop. But he was the bottle, and the wine, and the drinker. Sucking in a breath, holding her quivering body in place, he lowered his head, tilting it to the side. 

His lips met her skin at a sensitive spot beneath her ear. He felt her tremble. Brushed downward to the base of her neck, savoring every inch of her as she whimpered a strain of incoherent noises he knew would play in his dreams until he was a corpse in the ground. Then, tilting his head again, he stared at the glistening hollow of her throat. Where her scent was the thickest. Richest. Sweetest. 

Azriel paused long enough to take her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head as her chest rose and fell against him. His chin was nearly between her breasts, and though they wanted his attention and he wanted to give it to them - he kept his eyes instead on her throat. 

Elain was squirming. Not to get away, but to get closer. The frantic bucking of her hips against him - not close enough. He pressed harder with his leg until he could feel the grind of her bone against him, and his tongue darted out to that hollow to taste it the moment her moan rose beneath it. 

“There,” he breathed. Again she rubbed herself against him. He could smell the growing headiness from there, and the jasmine coating his tongue. He licked again, and again as she moved more frantically. 

His wings unfurled as he growled deep in his throat, talons reaching to dig into the wall - the house would repair itself later - and shreds of wallpaper fluttered to the ground as he steadied himself. And Elain. The way she was pulling him in, giving of herself so freely, wanting him - chasing pleasure he could give her, scant as it was...as if this would be all she was ever given. A drop of water before starvation. 

Azriel fastened his lips to one jutted collarbone, and sucked. Immediately he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Sweat was dampening her nightgown - more than sweat - and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled. He tore his mouth from her skin to say in a hoarse voice, 

“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.” 

Slowly he removed his hand, then, and lifted his head enough to see the perspiration dotting her forehead. Eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into his shoulders, now. 

“Good,” Azriel rasped. “Keep going, Elain. Use me however you need.”

“Touch me.” Her plea was broken and wavering. “Please - Azriel - ”

He snarled. Gripping her hips between his hands, helping her to move against him. Guiding each undulation as her heart beat faster and faster and faster - her breasts were at his eye level, so high he was holding her off the ground - and he allowed himself one more luxury: he rested his forehead against her sternum, feeling each bob of her breasts on either side of his face. The slight snag of a hardened nipple. 

If she didn’t come soon, he would. 

But it was a mere moment later that she came: breathless and noiseless, like he’d commanded, but he felt the clench of her even on his thigh. The desperate throbbing, wanting to be filled but still cresting. Deeper breaths from her parted lips, a night-song of indescribable beauty. 

Azriel wanted her. He wanted her so badly he thought he’d die from it. 

Elain went lax, and he caught her ‘round the waist before she toppled over. Her head against his shoulder, wings still shrouding them - his nose really was in her glorious mass of hair, now, and because he knew this shouldn’t happen again, he breathed in the scent of her curls, over and over and over again - 

“Azriel,” she half-panted, half-sobbed. It made his heart wrench. The wolves in his head still prowled, still snarled - wanted to pounce, to stroke, to take - but no. No. No. He wouldn’t. 

Talons unhooked themselves from the wall, wings folding delicately back in as he lowered her to the ground. A moment of unsteadiness before she could stand, blinking up at him like the sweetest fawn on a spring day. Cheeks flushed red, eyes glittering, throat damp. A faint bruise was left there from him - it would heal by morning. He hoped. 

His trousers were unbearably tight. He could barely stand. But he did, and held Elain’s gaze as if it were a lifeline offered to his dying soul. 

Which very well could be the truth.

“Azriel,” she said again. Tucked curls behind her ear. But he merely bowed, instead of throwing her onto the bed to devour her until Summer Solstice as he wanted to do with every fiber of his being, and said, 

“I hope you’re feeling better, Elain.” 

Something like hurt passed over her face. Mouth pressed together in a thin line as she tugged the lace robe to lay straight over her breasts and shoulders. Azriel didn’t look. 

A single breath, drawn out like a keening wail of grief: Elain turned and swept away to the door, yanking it open to disappear into the blackness as shadows reappeared, gently closing the door to keep it from making a noise and alerting the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Azriel stared after her for a moment, fists clenched and empty and her scent all over him like a thick, woollen blanket. 

He hadn’t even kissed her. 

He stomped to the fireplace, tearing at the laces of his trousers to yank them off each of his feet. Threw the Elain-soaked pants into the fire. 

As if knowing his intention, knowing his agony: the house ate up the leather quickly, turning it to blackened, crumbling ashes that fell among the cracked logs. He still smelled of her, he knew it. He’d smell her even if he did manage to wash her off. His leg, his hands, his chest where she’d touched him, his face - she was everywhere. Everywhere. 

Almost everywhere. 

Azriel ached. He ached between his legs, almost like he’d been kicked with a spiked boot. Hurt so bad even without trousers that he didn’t want to touch himself. Instead he stared at the flames, and then the embers as they burned down and the shadows crept closer to swallow him whole. Still his heart beat on, a steady, unceasing rhythm that chanted with each pulse of blood - 

Elain. Elain. Elain.

TO BE CONTINUED

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar