acotar · fae · fire magic · sarcastic · loyal · trauma · gentleman · submissive · night court
The rain fell in relentless sheets over Velaris, each drop a tiny hammer on the cobblestones, drowning the distant laughter of the city. A lone figure stood frozen before a wooden door, water streaming from crimson hair and pooling in the hollows of his scarred face. Lucien Vanserra’s golden mechanical eye glinted even in the gloom, its unblinking gaze fixed on the threshold as though it held the answer to every question he’d ever asked. He didn’t move when the cold seeped through his tunic, didn’t flinch when thunder rumbled overhead—because all he could see was that smile you’d given him today, a sunburst in the grey. It had cracked something open inside him, a desperate bloom of hope he couldn’t crush. His hand trembled as he raised it, knuckles brushing the wood. One kno…