#also love the idea that elain is the biggest life ruining archeron

[winterrens]

been reading a stupid amount of (modern) elucien fanfic which made me think about Lucien in a button up and Elain in a sundress which has led to this. Modern elucien ice cream date ? 🤔

[riddlecrux]

Miserable together, happy apart: a dive into Elain and Lucien's relationship

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. Due to the fact that this topic is connected with a raging shipping war, I would like to make an important note at the beginning of this (probably) long comparison post. This meta will be touching subjects such as trauma, forced and unhealthy relationships, being uncomfortable around the other person, and enforced feeling of duty. On that note, it's anti Elain and Lucien relationship.

The starting point of the whole relationship and mating bond begins in ACOMAF, when Lucien contributes to Archeron sisters being kidnapped - leading to them being Made. I'm very concerned with the way how this fandom seems to collectively forget about the trauma that Elain went through when she was pushed inside the Cauldron. After ACOSF we are left with the idea that being Made wasn't pleasant - on the contrary, it was horrible and scary, it left Nesta with psychological scars and mental barriers. So why are people forgetting that, in fact, it was Elain who undergone the same terrifying experience first? SJM had described this whole situation very vividly and painfully detailed. It was there to show us that both Elain and Nesta went through something disturbing and traumatizing. That's why I would like to start with a notion of TRAUMA:

"Elain’s foot hit the water, and she screamed—screamed in terror that hit me so deep I began sobbing."

Feyre is there to witness her sisters being shoved into Cauldron and one can only imagine how terrifying it was to observe such a thing. However, there is no amount of words to describe how utterly frightening it was for Elain to be pushed into the unknown. She was the first one, an experiment for everyone to see.

"More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare."

Elain was a proper lady. She was the one who went along with the prevailing etiquette and rules. Feyre notices Elain's bare skin and how she doesn't even remember when was the last time she saw so much of it in the broad daylight. Elain was modest, she followed the social obligations and we as readers are presented with the fact that all her principles are being violated in front of these strangers and people she knew from before.

"Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered."

She was let out in the open after such a traumatizing event. Just after being Made, the first thing she experiences is another form of trauma. She is involuntary stripped bare in front of males, her proper upbringing and modesty ruined as they openly laugh at her nakedness. It's another traumatic event, not even a moment after her whole human life was taken away from her.

"As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him—"

It's not surprising that she acted that way. He is yet another male who appears out of nowhere, comes at her when she is in a very vulnerable position. Not to mention, that he is connected to the fact that she and Nesta were kidnapped and used as hostages. He plays a role in her trauma, a trauma that is still happening around her. Elain is subjected to watch her older sister going through the same thing she went through.

"Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”"

I would say that it wasn't a good thing to say at that moment. It's yet another brick in the wall of traumas that Elain just went through. She lost her human life, she was Made, she lost her human fiance, was kidnapped and used as an experiment, ridiculed due to her nakedness and vulnerability, watched her sister being shoved into the Cauldron. Now she is presented with the fact that she was stripped off of her free will, and she still doesn't have freedom of choice. The lack of choice is evident, she just doesn't let it fall upon her as the trauma she had just endured was too great to even imagine how that declaration could shake her already broken heart.

“From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.” But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

Elain is aware of the fact that he was a part of her trauma. He was there when she got kidnapped and watched her being Made. She acknowledges the fact that he is partially responsible for what has happened to her and her sister. Not only Elain but Lucien as well. Lucien is also very much aware of the fact that he had contributed to her pain and hardship. Those feelings are also very prominent in the way he approaches her and behaves around her. The knowledge that she is that way because of his mistake.

FORCED RELATIONSHIP:

Both Elain and Lucien find themselves forced to "be" together. It wasn't a natural thing that happened between them, not a healthy type of bond snapping in its place. They were put together because of the Cauldron's decision.

She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. 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.

Even Lucien, who had loved and lost his previous lover acknowledges the fact that it is something that both of them didn't want. Their bond essentially stripped both of them of their free will. They hadn't chosen each other, they were just put together in a fickle decision of The Cauldron. His previous love story signalizes that Lucien also wants to be chosen, wants to be loved by someone who decided that he is the man that the other person wants to love and spend their life with him.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing.

Lucien has also his own issues - family feud, the fact that his friend betrayed him and in the end, it was him who did the same. He has troubles on his mind that are concerning. He's self-conscious in front of Elain because as Lucien is a reminder of her trauma - she is a reminder of his biggest mistake and another painful ending on his part. She's a living proof of his betrayal, how he went against his common sense and stabbed his friend, Feyre, in the back by bringing her sister into the scene.

The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.” She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride. A mortal man’s wife. Or she would have been.

He is aware of the fact that Elain doesn't feel anything for him, that she was promised to another and she had planned her life with that person. Just like him in the past - it was his choice to love, want, and need Jesminda. As he's trying to keep his composure the feelings of the bond swirl around, yet Lucien still understands that both of them ended up with something they didn't want.

“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Even though they were "blessed" with this bond, the thread of it is weak and very unlike the other ones in SJM universe. As if it wasn't working properly - they both do not complete each other. Few pages before Elain says that she can hear Feyre's and Nesta's heartbeat and yet her mate can't hear hers? How is that possible? Also Lucien doesn't understand Elain - he sees her as someone who is devastated by her ruined human life, which is true, but right we as readers know by now that Elain was suffering because nobody seemed to realize what was wrong with her. Their first meeting doesn't spark hope for their future. It only showcases how wrong they both are for each other, two wounds plastered against each other.

BEING UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND EACH OTHER: Sadly both Elain and Lucien are pushed together by Feyre and her little meddling - which isn't something that they both want to undergo.

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall. (...) Pretending, while Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them.

Even Feyre admits that a previously arranged get-together was a mistake. Because Lucien and Elain are wary of their presence around each other, they constantly remind each other's traumas and painful memories. Elain can barely stand his presence and Lucien is aware of that fact - the only thing that keeps him trying to break that barrier is their bond.

She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” Mor put a hand on my knee to keep me from rising, too. “It—it was a tug. On the bond.”

Even their mating bond isn't a thing of comfort. They can't navigate through it, both of them uncomfortable because of their proximity. Lucien feels as if he has to repay his debt towards Elain, however, neither of them wants to close the distance. Their wounds are still fresh, both of them not entirely healed. They are constantly rubbing their hurt on each other, meeting after meeting.

“Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry“.

He feels guilty all the time he's around her. He can't navigate through the mating bond as it doesn't work properly. It's uncomfortable, hurtful, and tense. Just like the relationship between them, it is not a good thing. They are basically strangers thrown at each other after seeing the other person at their lowest. It's not a coincidence that the bond between them is a mirror to their rough, strained relation.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Even with the bond, Lucien can't understand what Elain needs. They are basically strangers, yet the bond doesn't do anything to him in regards to helping her. They are constantly uncomfortable around each other, they try to avoid each other throughout the series because of the fact that they both don't want to be in this forced relationship. Lucien feels obliged to keep persuading her due to the bond, whereas Elain wants nothing to do with the said bond. They are in a maze of constant avoidance and unbearable proximity, which is very soundly described in the text and I would like to present some very important passages:

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle.

No, as Elain took a step back, hand falling away from the doorknob, she revealed Lucien smiling tightly at us both. “Happy Solstice,” was all he said.

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m—” But she was already out of the room.

I would love to bring attention to the fact that Lucien understands and realizes that their relationships will never work. He acknowledges it in the text, with his own words!

"Give her time to accept it.” “To accept a life shackled to me?”

“Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.

He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

ELAIN'S AGENCY: Throughout ACOWAR, ACOFAS and ACOSF Elain tries to get away from the bond and in conclusion also from Lucien himself. She doesn't acknowledge their bond and time after time she runs away from the fact that they are bound to each other. The thing is, Elain, probably doesn't know how to break their bond - we as readers are reminded in Azriel's POV how important their mating bond is for the Night Court, which makes her a sort of political pawn. It is yet another thing that is taken away from her, which to be honest is a kind of a hypocritical thing coming from Rhys and Feyre. We know that Elain is timid, however after slowly recovering from her trauma she started to voice out her discomfort connected to Lucien and their forced relationship.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?” Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter. “He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

Lucien still makes her uncomfortable, he is a constant reminder of her trauma and lost life. Another thing is that Lucien doesn't even know her, doesn't see her which is something that is very important to her. Everything he does is based on the fact that he is connected to her via mating bond, not by his own free choice. Which, again, is presented to us in her own words in the text:

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.” “You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

It doesn't help that the one who pushes her forward into this spiral of unbearable proximity with someone she hadn't chosen and don't want to be around, is her own sister. Yet, she stands her ground and sets boundaries. She is her own person and she wants to get to chose. ELAIN AROUND LUCIEN:

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.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

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.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him.

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice (...).

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap.

Elain now watched Lucien warily. Blinking every now and then.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions.

Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

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

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

As you can see Elain feels: - uncomfortable - on edge - withdrawn - wary - closed off - silenced (she always loses the will to speak around Lucien, going deeper inside of her) - melancholic (she watches as kettle boil without flinching as if she wandered in the maze of her mind). Elain loses her comfort and courage around Lucien, which is problematic and utterly sad to witness. He is a constant reminder for her of violation against her own free will, but also a living proof of her own trauma. LUCIEN AROUND ELAIN:

Lucien surveyed it all with cool indifference. What he felt about Elain, what he planned to do … I didn’t want to ask.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet.

He didn’t expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he’d rise from this chair and leave.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once.

He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

“I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.”

Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien silently slid into one of the chairs, before the window, that metal eye whirring as it roved over my sister.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye —the longing and sadness.

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

Lucien feels: - uncomfortable - guilty - uneasy - confused (especially in the moments where Elain is having visions and he doesn't understand what's happening with her) - apologetic (he is constantly saying sorry to her) - tense

The guilt eats him every time he is around Elain, he is constantly apologizing while battling his inner problems such as remembering his true love. He was stripped off of his choice and even if the mating bond is there, he isn't happy. He is in constant pain just like Elain because both of them are each other wounds, each other reminder of trauma. They can't heal together because they are only happy when they are apart - Elain blooms in the Night Court, as we have read in ACOSF she is coming up with terms of Fae life and her own powers, adjusting her life to the notion of immortality. She is content and courageous and yet everything vanishes when Lucien is around. The same thing goes for Lucien. Lucien was struggling with her around him - he didn't know her, he didn't know what was happening to her as well. They were both strangers thrown at each other without their own say in this whole situation. Not to mention that their meetings were always arranged and supervised by others. When he sets on the journey to find Vassa he finds freedom and belonging - which was something he was battling in ACOWAR, after betraying his friends and his court, after being at odds in Night Court, and after being uncomfortable around his mate. He didn't have that sense of belonging in any of those things.

Elain and Lucien aren't compatible nor perfect for each other. They are constant reminders of traumas they experienced. They will never work out because they make each other miserable while being together, and they feel free and content apart. Their happiness lies with free choice, free will both of them were looking for in their lives. They are bound together against their own, and the only key for them being happy in this farce is setting themselves free. A choice of freedom. I strongly believe that after their rejection of the bond both of them could, perhaps, form a friendship. It would have been some sort of catharsis - to dwell upon the fact that they overcame that obstacle. That they chose to be happy apart, and not be shackled by this miserable bond.

[snelbz]

Lovely, Chapter 4 {ACOTAR}

Written along side the beautiful and talented @tacmc​. Look out for Chapter 5 coming soon. :)

Find previous chapters here: Lovely.

“I’m going to ruin this.”

Rhysand chuckled. “No, you aren’t.”

Feyre blinked, placing her palms on the bar top. “Fine. Teach me your ways, bartender.”

“We’ll start with your favorite,” he said. “What is it?”

“Sex on the beach.”

Rhysand lifted a brow.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Rhys held up his hands in a motion of surrender.

He taught her how to properly pour a shot, how to count as she poured. He showed her how to layer for certain drinks, told her what flavors worked best together and even had her to try to create a few drinks.

They tasted horrible, but since he had closed the bar early for the night, Rhys and Feyre drank them anyways. Rhys became more and more flirty as he became intoxicated and Feyre was loving every second.

“I hope you’re a better bartender than this,” Feyre giggled, perfectly aware how close together they had become.

“This isn’t…horrible,” he lied, hesitantly, downing the rest of his glass’ contents.

“You’re a shitty liar,” she whispered.

Rhysand laughed, and the sound of his laughter was more intoxicating than the over-vodka-ed drink in her hand.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, swiping her keys out of her purse from behind the counter.

Rhys grabbed her wrist. “If you think I’m letting you drive, you’re not only beautiful, you’re also insane.”

Feyre began to blush, not quite understanding what one had to do with the other but with how drunk Rhys was, she wasn’t sure he did either.

“I’m not trying to leave,” she giggled. “I’m cold and I have a hoodie in the car.”

“Oh.” He let go of her wrist. He grinned sheepishly. “My bad.”

She quickly dashed out to her car, unlocking the door, reaching into the backseat and grabbing the University of Velaris hoodie she kept for just these occasions. It was full of holes and paint splattered and she loved it. Pulling it in, she ran back across the street into the bar, completely ignoring the hustle and bustle of the rest of the night life of Velaris.

Rhys had set up a bottle, two shot glasses, salt and a lime on the counter. He rubbed his hands together. “Time to teach you the easiest drink, tequila shots. So easy even you couldn’t mess it up.”

“Oh ha-ha,” Feyre said, tossing her hair up into a bun as she stepped around the bar.

After acing her first round, but Rhys claiming it was a fluke and making her do it again, they had both had two more shots and Feyre found herself drawn to Rhys. He was leaning against the inside corner of the bar, laughing at something she had said, when she stepped in front of him.

He immediately stopped laughing and stood up straighter, towering over her. He breathed, “What are you doing, Feyre darling?” as she brushed her fingers against his hand.

He began to lean towards her, noting how she was beginning to lean into him, and watched her blue-gray eyes close. Her lips were so close to his, he could-.

The door to the bar opened and Feyre stepped back, Rhys unable to go anywhere as he was backed into the corner, but their eyes were still locked on each other.

“Feyre?”

She knew the voice instantly. Had done her best to block that voice out of her head these past weeks.

But somehow, he was here. She had forgotten to lock the door behind her when she’d come back from grabbing her hoodie.

Tamlin stood in the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing with him?” He asked.

“What the hell do you want, O’Brien?” Rhys asked, his jaw locked. Feyre could see his hands in fists at his side.

She’d never seen Rhys be anything other than happy. Granted, they hadn’t spent much time together, but he was always the life of the party. The man in front of her now was dark and frightening. Almost like he’d put on a mask.

“Apparently saving my girlfriend from-”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” Feyre interrupted. “Not anymore.”

Realization hit Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Wait, this is your ex? Tamlin?”

Feyre looked back and forth between the two of them, curious as to how they knew one another, but too shaken up to ask.

“Come on, Feyre,” Tamlin said, eyes still locked with Rhys’. “I’m taking you home.”

“No,” Feyre said, although it didn’t come out as strongly as she had hoped.

“Rhysand here is not someone you want to associate with,” Tamlin went on, meandering closer to where Rhys stood, unmoving. “He’s a poor, pathetic college dropout who only owns this bar because it’s in his dead daddy’s name.”

Feyre was appalled that Tamlin could speak so horribly about someone that Feyre saw as purely beautiful. Rhysand’s chin only lifted.

“Get the hell out of here,” Rhys said, pressing his palms against the bar. “You have one last chance of my asking you to leave before I kick your ass and call the cops.”

“Feyre, let’s go.” Tamlin hadn’t looked at her once, not since he’d first walked into the bar. His eyes had been locked on Rhys and she’d never seen such hatred simmering in those green eyes. “You’re drunk, I’m taking you home.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to go home with you, I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Tamlin sighed and reached across the bar for Feyre’s hand. The second his fingers wrapped around her wrist, Rhysand’s fist made contact with his jaw.

Feyre gasped, jumping backwards as Tamlin stumbled and held his face.

“Get out.” Rhys ordered, once more.

Tamlin’s green eyes were ablaze as he looked up at Feyre. “You don’t know who he is.”

Feyre said nothing.

Rhysand grabbed Tamlin by the back of his shirt collar and pushed him toward the door, jaw already beginning to bruise.

He shrugged Rhys off and walked the rest of the way to the door, but as he pulled the door open, he looked back. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Lunasa.”

With that, he was out into the crisp evening and Feyre and Rhys were left alone again.

The haze of the alcohol had never left, and suddenly Feyre felt dizzy. Rhys was at her side before she could even begin to tip to the side. “Let me get you some water, I think you’re in shock.”

Shock.

She couldn’t process why, but she knew he was right. Tamlin’s sudden reappearance has jarred her enough that she was struggling to even speak.

It wasn’t until she’d downed an entire glass of water

that she asked, “How do you know him? Tamlin?”

Rhysand froze from where he was cleaning up a spill on the counter. “We….go way back.”

Feyre blinked. “That’s not an answer.”

Rhysand’s face fell into his hands. “I’m sorry I hit him. Well, no, I’m not. But I am sorry I hit him in front of you.”

Feyre leaned back against the bar stool as she repeated, “How do you know him?”

“We went to school together,” he replied, simply.

Feyre waited for more. He didn’t continue.

“I should go,” she said, slipping down off the bar stool.

“No, no, please.” Rhys was back in front of her, his hands on her cheeks, framing her face. “We went to school together, we were even friends when we were kids. But then something happened with our fathers and things changed. Our lives changed. I just…” His violet eyes guttered. “I don’t want to get into it tonight, please. I was enjoying spending time with you. With just you.”

Feyre wanted to look away but she couldn’t. His eyes were captivating. He was captivating. She’d be a damned liar if she said that she wasn’t into him.

“I’ve been with a liar,” she said, quietly, gesturing to the door that Tamlin had just left through. “I’m done with lies.”

Rhysand hung his head.

Shame.

He was feeling shame.

“I will tell you, soon, just...please, not tonight,” he begged. His eyes were full of worry, full of pain. Whatever it was, Tamlin had never mentioned Rhys. It wasn’t Rhys’ fault. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his fault.

Feyre wanted to lean up, wanted to kiss those full lips. She wanted to see what would happen if she closed the distance between them. She wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked. She wanted to know if he’d be the type of man who would wrap an arm around her waist or if he’d tangle his hands in her hair. She wanted to know if he’d be a tease or if he’d take lead. She wanted to know so many things.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she snaked her arms around his waist and she hugged him. She felt him relax in her embrace, felt as his arm encircled her shoulders and locked right.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

She pulled back and looked up at him.

He was smiling again, though that darkness was still haunting his eyes. She wanted him to laugh and smirk again, so she said, “Show me how to make a martini worthy of James Bond.”

He threw his head back and laughed, not letting go of her as he said. “Now that, I can do.”

————

Elain was frantically walking around her kitchen. She kept opening cabinets, but wasn’t taking anything out of them. The stove was on, the oven was on, the radio was on, and Lucien was sitting on her counter drinking a glass of wine.

“I’ve never seen you this worked up over a guy before,” he said, taking another sip. “I mean, what the hell did he do to make you this worked up?”

Elain blew her bangs out of her eyes. “He’s perfect, that’s what he did.”

Lucien raised a brow. “Perfect? In the eyes of Elain Archeron? What are we talking about here? Tall? Handsome? Clean cut? How many suits does he own?” Elain stopped her pacing. “He’s…not my usual type.”

“What?” Lucien asked. “You mean he wears Prada instead of Armani?”

“I’d be willing to bet he doesn’t own a suit,” she said, then amended her sentence when she remembered he was wearing one when they met. “Okay, maybe just one.”

“I knew it,” Lucien said, crossing one leg over the other. “What does he do? Investment broker? Stock market?” He stopped and groaned. “Tell me it’s not another lawyer.”

Elain walked to where her wine glass sat next to him and took a sip before saying, “He’s a tattoo artist. He owns his own shop.”

Lucien only blinked at Elain as she took a larger sip of her wine.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I just heard you, he’s a what?” Lucien said, slowly setting down his glass.

“You heard me,” Elain said, eyes rolling. “And, I prefer you don’t make such a big deal about this.”

“What else is up with this guy?” Lucien asked, giving her the third degree.

“He has a baby,” Elain whispered, watching the wine as she swirled it around in her glass.

“A baby?” Lucien hopped off the counter and walked to where Elain was standing. “Does he also have a mortgage and a secret wife? Honey, this is no bueno.”

“You don’t know him, Luce,” she sighed. “He’s sweet and funny and so, so handsome. And no,” she added, “Before you ask, I will not see if he has a gay brother.”

“You’re literally the worst wingman of all time,” he sighed and tossed back the dregs of his wine. He looked around the kitchen. “Alright, we’ve got 45 minutes until he’s here. Let’s work some magic.”

“Work some magic?” Elain asked, brows raised. “Really? Because I’ve been trying to work magic all day.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, meandering down the hall to her bedroom. “Well, I know you’re not wearing that.”

Elain looked down at her stained tee shirt and shorts. He had a point.

“You cook,” he called as she heard him open her closet. “I’ll find your outfit. What statement do you want to make?” There was a short pause. “Are you sleeping with him tonight?”

“Lucien!” She laughed, nearly cutting her finger as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into the pan.

“Alright, alright, don’t tell me.” Her best friend could be so dramatic. “But seriously. What look do you want? Flirty, casual, slutty, cozy?”

“Flirty and cozy,” she called back.

“Are you doing your hair or no?”

Elain ran a hand through her messy hair. “Probably just a top knot.”

She didn’t hear another peep out of him until he came 20 minutes later. “You clothes and jewelry are laid out on the bed.”

“How did I get so lucky as to having a stylist as my best friend?” Elain smacked a kiss on his cheek.

“Down, girl,” he drawled, refilling his wine glass. “Save it for your hunky tattooed boy.”

“He’ll be here in about half an hour,” she said, glancing at the clock. “Oh, gods. Luce, you gotta go.”

He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “What? I can’t stay and meet him?”

Elain barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m trying not to be offended,” he mumbled, drinking from his glass.

“I just…” she stopped, staring at her own wine glass. Lucien had been joking earlier, but would it be the night something happened between them?

“He hasn’t even kissed me,” Elain started, trying to state it matter-of-factly. Instead, it came out softly.

“Oh, El,” he breathed and his face softened, then he smirked. “Are you sure he’s not gay?”

“Lucien!” Elain cried, trying not to laugh. She pushed him away.

He smiled though and she realized so was she.

He said, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical reason he hasn’t kissed you. And after the meal you’ve made him tonight, he’ll probably ask you to marry him.” She smiled at him and he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. “Now go change, I’ll leave as soon as you get back. Someone has to watch the food and I need to finish my wine.”

He gave her a light shove and she made her way to her room. She found a simple outfit of a large, cozy knit sweater, black leggings, thick, long socks, and plain silver jewelry. Comfortable but cute. Just what she’d wanted. She took a couple minutes to touch up her makeup and hair before heading back down the hallway.

She realized two male voices were floating down the hall towards her and she could easily recognize both.

She froze, trying to listen in.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” Lucien was saying.

Azriel cleared his throat. “Yeah, well…”

Elain took a step into the kitchen. “Hi!”

Az turned, his smile lighting up his face. “Hey,” he breathed.

Lucien cleared his throat. “You didn’t tell me Azriel Draeven was your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my- Don’t you have somewhere you needed to be?” She asked, cutting herself off.

“Since dinner isn’t for three, I’d say so,” he sighed. “It was good to see you again, Azriel. Don’t tire her out too much, we’re supposed to go to the gym in the morning, bye!”

It all came out in a rush and before either of them could say anything, he was out the door, taking his wine glass with him.

Elain was staring at her front door, gaping, cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “He- I- He- Ignore him.”

Azriel just laughed, breathlessly. “I didn’t know you knew Lucien.”

“I didn’t know you knew Lucien.”

Azriel shrugged, hands shoved in his pockets as he took a step toward her. “We went to school together.” A moment passed, and he took another step closer. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’m early. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“It’s okay,” she said, leaning against the counter. “Early is good.”

“You look beautiful,” he said and she blushed again. “God, that blush does things to me.” He brushed a thumb over her flushed cheek.

Elain couldn’t stop herself as she leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She pulled back and breathed, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer to do that.”

He watched her for a moment, and that moment seemed to pass by too slowly. She needed him to say something. Anything.

But, he didn’t.

Instead, his hands found her waist and he pulled her closer, kissing her much, much slower.

He tasted like mint. His lips were gentle, soft.

She felt like he was holding back.

When he let go, his mouth leaving hers, he said, “Sorry, it didn’t last long enough the first time.”

Elain giggled. She honest to God giggled, and said, “Are you hungry? Dinner should be ready.”

“I could eat,” he smiled.

He helped Elain make their plates, piling his plate extra high with the homemade macaroni and cheese she’d made. He’d carried her food out of the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink?” She called. “I have wine and beer.”

“White or red?” His voice didn’t come from the dining room like she’d expected.

“White.” She peeked her head into the living room and found him on her couch.

He looked back at her. “I’ll have a glass.”

She asked, “You don’t want to sit at the table?”

“There’s a little too much space at the table for my taste. I’d rather be able to sit next to you.” He smiled and patted the spot next to him.

“Okay,” she said,  smiling and walking back into the kitchen. She poured two glasses of moscato and grabbed silverware and napkins, before making her way back into the living room.

She set the glasses down on the coffee table before sitting by his side. He was devouring his plate, which made Elain feel good, but also found it humorous that he ate his food so quickly.

“So, did you have a good day at work?” she asked.

He nodded, swallowing before he said, “Only had a few appointments, so I didn’t stay the whole day. How about you?”

“I have a wedding coming up so I was extra busy,” she said, her thigh brushing his.

He set his plate on his lap and rest a hand on her leg, not to high as to make her uncomfortable, but he had this uncontrollable urge to touch her, to be close to her.

“How was your visit with Asher today?” She asked, taking a bite of roast chicken.

“It was great,” he smiled, but she saw the hesitation in his eyes.

“What?” She asked, running her fingers down his arm. She trailed her finger down one of his many tattoos. She marveled at the fact that it felt just like regular skin. She’d always imagined it would feel different, more rough.

“Just…” He shook his head. “We’ve got another meeting with our lawyers coming up and I’m sure Ianthe will make another bullshit reason as to why she can’t come.”

Elain hesitated. “I hope I’m not overstepping when I say that Ianthe is a hot mess.”

Azriel had bitched a lot to Elain about Ianthe in recent days. He laughed, quietly. “No, you’re not overstepping. In fact, you’re being quite nice.”

She nudged his shoulder. “Well, if there’s ever anything I can do...you know, let me know.”

His smile softened. “You are a beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

His words were soft, but they still made Elain’s stomach erupt into a fit of butterflies.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, taking another bite of chicken.

“So,” he said, setting his empty plate on the table in front of them. “You make me dinner, you get me liquored up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to take advantage of me.”

She blushed and looked away. His fingers found her chin and he turned her face towards him. “I’m kidding,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips.

“But are you wrong?” She asked, voice flirtatious although her heart was nearly about to burst through her chest.

Azriel raised a brow, a small grin on his lips. “Elain Archeron. Who knew you have a naughty side?”

His voice was light, but she saw the look in his eyes shift.

Lucien’s words from earlier flashed through her mind.

Are you sleeping with him tonight?

Maybe not. But did she want to?

She didn’t say a word as she twisted, throwing her leg over one side of his body. She straddled him, and his hands settled on her hips, pulling her close and their lips found each other’s.

Her hands framed his face and she gasped as he nibbled on her bottom lip. Her messy bun got a little messier as his hand dove into her hair.

He pulled back, breathing heavily. His hazel eyes were dark. “I really was kidding. I didn’t have any expectations coming here tonight. I just wanted to see you and spend time with you.”

She didn’t answer as she crashed her lips against his again.

She knew that.

She knew who he was, knew his heart. She also was fully aware of how bad she wanted him.

She wouldn’t give him all of her tonight, but she would give him just a taste.

Something to keep him wanting more.

Something to keep him wondering about the secret fantasies of Elain Archeron.

~~~

It was almost seven, and Nesta was still in her dance studio. It had been a long ass day.

When she’d woken up and found Cassian gone, she had taken the hint.

She wasn’t looking for a relationship, she hadn’t even planned on sleeping with him until she’d gotten drunk. But she didn’t expect the pain of waking up on her couch alone. She didn’t expect the subtle ache in her heart when she realized he had left without waking her, without saying a word.

She had spent all day trying not to think about him, but had failed. Every minute, all day, her mind had drifted to him. She wanted to storm down the hall, into his classroom, and demand why he’d left.

But, she didn’t. She had remained professional. She had a hell of a headache, but she remained professional.

She was packing up her things to go home when a soft knock came on the door of her studio.

Cassian was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile his mouth. “Hey.”

Nesta blinked. “Hey? Did you just say hey? Are you kidding me?”

“I mean, hello?” He shrugged. “Was hey too informal now or something?”

Nesta scoffed and picked up her bag, tossing her flats into it. “You’ve got some fucking nerve,” she mumbled, trying to pass him at the door.

He gripped her wrist, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nesta shook her head, turning her back to him as she shoved her belongings into her bag. “You may leave.”

Cassian hesitated from his place in the doorway. “I’m...sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Nesta wanted to scream, wanted to slap him in the face before grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “You seriously don’t see a problem with what you did?”

Cassian’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know how to tell you, sweetheart, but you were a willing party in everything that took place last night.”

“That’s not what I mean, you ass!” She turned and glared at him.

A look of genuine confusion and hurt was on his face.

She asked, “Where did you go this morning?”

Cassian blinked. “Home? To shower? And get my shit together so I didn’t look like a hungover bum in first period this morning? And, considering I walked to your house, I had to walk back to the bar and get my truck. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful. I was going to text you when I got home but I don’t have your number. Then, you know, you ignore me all day…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. She had never seen him look so...genuine. The cocky grin was gone.

She asked, “You didn’t leave because I’m a one night stand?”

“What?” He asked, taking a step forward. “Fuck, is that what you thought? I’ve been trying to take you on a date since the night I stepped on you in the street.” He reached for her, but stopped, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

His hand fell back down to his side. She had to admit, she liked this side of him. It was real.

“I would never do that to you,” he said. “I like you. A lot.”

Nesta couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help as the tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, no,” he breathed, stepping forward and taking her face in his hands. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry you thought that. I’ve been trying to catch your eye all day.” He chuckled lightly. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. I guess I got lucky that my eighth graders trashed my recording booth earlier and I had to stay late.” He smirked and a laugh bubbled from Nesta’s lips. “That’s better,” he whispered, eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips.

His thumbs were brushing her cheeks. He was so close. He breathed, “Can I kiss you?”

She pressed her trembling lips to his in answer. It wasn’t the same kind of kiss as the night before. Those kisses had been hungry, lustful. This one was gentle, sweet, slow.

When he pulled back, Nesta’s tears had stopped, a small smile taking their place.

“Are you busy tonight?” She asked, quietly.

“I was going to go to Rhysand’s, but he’s training a new bartender. Probably best that I don’t.” He chuckled. “I’ll end up being given the mess ups and I still haven’t recovered from last night.”

Nesta paused. “I think that bartender might be my sister.”

Cassian laughed. “No offense, but I definitely think I’ll pass now. Do you want to come to dinner with me?” He smirked. “I mean, you’ve already slept with me, it’s the least you can do.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still an ass.”

His grin widened. “Is that a yes?”

She gave him a long, suspenseful look as she said, “Yes.”

“Good,” He said, offering his hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

He drove her to the supermarket in Velaris, telling her to stay in the truck and he’d be right back. He returned and tossed the bags he carried in the toolbox in the back before she could even ask what was in them.

When she got the look in her eye and opened her mouth to ask where he was taking her, he smoothly said, “Trust me, you’re going to love it.” He rested his hand on her thigh. She didn’t ask him to move it.

He drove outside of town and backed his truck up to the lookout point overlooking Velaris. The sun was just beginning to set and the skyline took Nesta’s breath away. She’d never seen the city from this perspective.

She heard Cassian hop out of the bed of the truck and turned around. With a grin, he lowered the tailgate and she melted at the sight in front of her.

A picnic was laid out in his bed, complete with a bottle of wine and checkered blanket.

“Attractive and romantic?” Nesta mused. “An interesting combination.”

Cassian huffed a laugh as he hopped up into the bed, taking her by the hand to help her up, too.

“I’ve always known you’ve found me attractive,” he winked.

Nesta just rolled her eyes. He poured wine into two solo cups, and handed one to her. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him as she took it.

He sighed. “It was either real wine glasses or the blanket, which would you have preferred?”

She crossed her legs and rested the cup on her leg. “Definitely the blanket.”

“That’s what I thought.” She could hear the smile in his voice as took a drink and began to unpack their dinner.

Chicken salad, potato salad, and ham and cheese from the deli. There was a bag of chips and two bottles of water that he pulled out last before offering her a little bit of everything.

“So,” he began, cramming a slice of honey ham into his mouth. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“My mother died when I was thirteen,” she said, reaching for the chicken salad. He choked on the ham in his mouth.

He coughed and took a drink of wine. “That...is not what I expected you to open with.” She chuckled softly. “I was thinking more along the lines of when you started dancing or your favorite movie or how good I am in bed.”

“Don’t you mean ‘wall’?” She smirked. He shook his head and swiped a piece of cheese from the pile in front of them. “And I figured might as well get it out of the way. It’s something I don’t dwell on. It’s the reason I threw myself into dancing.”

She shrugged. “Feyre had her art and Elain was taking care of our father. So I had my ballet.”

He asked, “Didn’t you go to VIA?”

She nodded and drained her wine glass. “It’s always been my dream to come back and instruct there.”

“So, now all your dreams have come true?” he asked, brow raised.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m happy. I’m at a point in my life where a lot of my goals have been met, yes.”

“But not all?”

She shrugged. “There’s always something to work toward.”

He nodded and refilled their glasses. The sun has almost set and she couldn’t help but notice the way the rays gilded his loose hair. She could see bits of gold in his dark hair. “What about you? Where did you go to school?”

“Good old VHS. Velaris High School.” He leaned back on his elbows. “I played football there. Got a scholarship to the University of Adriata and majored in music theory. I’ve always loved music, even more than football.”

“I wouldn’t guess that by looking at you,” she admitted.

He grinned. “Yeah, most people don’t. But, I don’t know. There’s something about music...getting lost in it. It makes me feel...peaceful.”

“I get it,” Nesta said, thoughtfully. “I feel the same way about dancing.”

“What about your sisters?” Cassian asked. “Have you always got along?”

Nesta chuckled. “With Elain? Yes. Feyre? We’ve had our ups and downs. I love her, though. And she loves me. Sometimes we just have an interesting way of showing it to each other.”

Cassian laughed as he took another sip of his wine.

“How about you?” she asked. “Family?”

He took a moment to think about it. “Never knew my father. To be honest with you, I’m not even sure if my mom knew my father. But she was a great woman, my mom. She passed away when I was in middle school. I moved in with Rhys after that. He was my closest and oldest friend. His mom took me in, raised me as her own. No brothers, no sisters. Just Rhys and Azriel.”

Nesta listened as she chewed. Cassian tipped the wine over her cup and refilled it, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t empty, along with his own.

“When did you start dancing?” He asked.

“When I was seven. I begged and begged my mom to let me start but wouldn’t with two babies at home. So as soon as Feyre turned three, she let me.” She swirled her glass, watching as the bubbles in the middle from the fresh pour spun. “I fell in love pretty instantly. I asked her to sign me up for every style of dance I could. I waited and waited to join pointe, but it had such a high age requirement. The day I was finally allowed to start...” She trailed off and looked out over the city, the last of the day’s light fading. “My life finally started to make sense. It was like a key clicking into a lock.”

“I know that feeling,” he said, falling back on the blanket as the stars of Velaris came out to play. “I love that feeling.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

She laid down next to him, his fingers instantly finding hers. She felt invincible with him. Beautiful. Flawless. Completely and utterly alive.

——

The hardwood of the bar against Feyre’s back was uncomfortable, but the feel of Rhysand’s body pressed against hers as he kissed her was enough to forget about it.

Her leg was thrown over his hip and he had one elbow leaned by her head as his other hand roamed her body.

They’d made sure the door was locked after Tamlin had left and before long, their hands began brushing which lead to lingering looks and finally Rhys had crashed his lips against hers and lifted her up to sit on the bar. One thing led to another and he was now on top of her, playing with the hem of her shorts.

Feyre pulled back and giggled. “I don’t think this is very sanitary. Your customers would be outraged.”

He grinned. “Eh, they don’t scare me.” He brushed her hair out of her face as his smile softened. “Are we drunk?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Feyre laughed, resting her palm against his cheek, “but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t wanted to kiss you like this every time I’ve been around you.”

Rhys lifted a brow. “Oh yeah? It’s because of my undeniable beauty, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning up to give him one more quick kiss. “Maybe it’s because of your undeniable cockiness.”

He smirked and looked up at the clock behind the bar. “Did you know,” he drawled, his lips brushing hers again, “that it’s 3:45 in the morning?”

Her eyes went wide. “Shit, it is?” She turned her head and looked at the clock. “I need to go. I have to be at the Farmer’s Market at 7:30.”

Rhys climbed off of her and hopped off the bar, helping her down as well. “Let me walk you to Nesta’s. You said it’s close, right? I’m not letting you drive anywhere.”

“That’s probably for the best,” she laughed, grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

Rhys locked the door as they left and immediately took her hand in his as they began to walk towards the residential district.

“I’m really glad I met you,” he said.

Feyre arched a brow, her fingers tightening around his palm. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “You’re a really amazing woman.”

Feyre looked away from him, up into the night sky. “I’m really glad I met you, too.”

She couldn’t help but compare. He was so different from Tamlin, in every way. She didn’t realize that the opposite of Tamlin was exactly what she needed.

They didn’t say anything else as they walked, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, like slipping into bed on a winter’s night. It was easy and familiar.

She slowed down as they approached Nesta’s house. She stepped up onto the porch and he followed, stopping behind up. “This is it,” Feyre breathed, as she turned and looked at Rhys.

His hand wove into her hair. “Can I give you a proper goodnight kiss?”

“Please do,” she said, leaning up on her toes to meet him. His tongue brushed along the seam of her lips and she opened for him.

They kissed until she couldn’t breathe, until she was dizzy and high on the heady scent of him. “Goodnight,” she whispered, stepping back and leaning against the door.

“Goodnight,” he replied and pressed one last, soft kiss to her lips, before backing away and making his way down the porch.

When he reached the sidewalk, she called out, “Wait, how will you get home?”

She could see that handsome smirk on his face from across the distance. “Don’t worry, Feyre darling. I don’t live far.”

He waited until she was safely locked in the house before he began to walk away.

——

Elain was high on him.

Her heart was nearly about to beat out of her chest as he hovered over her. Her back was against the couch, the weight of his hips on hers as their lips crashed into one another’s a dream come into reality.

She had kissed men before, but none of them had felt like this.

They had done nothing but kiss the whole night, nothing but the occasional sigh or whisper leaving their lips.

Suddenly, Azriel pulled back. “How cheesy would it have been for me to bring you flowers?”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “Nobody’s ever bought me flowers before.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said, leaning down to brush a kiss to her neck.

She laughed. “Were you thinking of bringing g me flowers?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbled against her neck, “but I thought you’d be tired of flowers.”

“I love flowers,” she said, smiling like a fool. “The world could use more flowers.”

“The world could use more people like you,” he said, pressing another kiss to delicate curve where her neck and shoulder met. “Passionate.” Another kiss. “Caring.” Kiss. “Selfless. Kiss. “Beautiful.”

Elain was blushing, her face and neck on fire as he kissed his way back up to her lips. He pulled back and said, quietly, “I had this whole corny speech planned but I can’t remember any of it. I can’t get past the feeling of your lips, how good you feel against me. Be my girlfriend, Elain, please. I want you in my life. I want you in Asher’s life.” He paused and swallowed. “I know dating a guy with a kid probably sounds miserable, but-.”

She pulled him down the collar and pressed her lips against his, shutting him up.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes.”