#elain archeron x lucien vanserra

[bonecarversbestie]

[animezinglife]

I'm so glad Elain's mate is the Heir of Day. She will thrive with that level of Vitamin D.

[acourtoflucien]

Lay Me Down In The Light

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

For Day 2 of @elucienweekofficial 'Golden'

Summary: Elain wants to progress her and Lucien's relationship to the next level, but she doesn't know how to go about it. Walking in on him in the bath is certainly a place to start.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,848

Chapter: 1/3

✨ Read on ao3 or Under the Cut✨

A/N: My contribution for the 'Golden' prompt for Elucien week. This will be two chapters, unfortunately my dissertation had to come first so this had to be split up *sigh*. I had a lot of fun with this, and the image of Lucien in the bath wouldn't leave me alone for weeks so here he finally is. I hope you enjoy it!

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Elain pulled at the fur lining of her hood as she walked along the sleet slicked pavement. She had lingered for too long in the heated square, pouring over the goods on display in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, thinking already of Starfall despite winter’s insistent chill that showed no signs of ebbing.

Velaris was beautiful, of course, but cold, bitterly so in the winter months, and though bubbles of heat were kept in place for its residents the streets themselves remained icy. She shivered, the darkness of late February pressing in closer around her, the sky, though beautiful, seemed lower than usual, disheartening.

She paused at a fork in the road. Turning right would lead a more direct path to the river house, where no doubt the fire was roaring and dinner on its way. But left, it would take her past another house, the one that housed his apartment.

Lucien had been there near permanently as of late, and they had spent almost every day he was there together, walking around the town, eating in the various restaurants Velaris had to offer, or else spending the day curled up on the sofas in his apartment, talking the day away. Since solstice, she realised with a slight flush, he had been there since the winter solstice.

That night they had shared a kiss, a proper one, not the sweet presses of lips to her cheek or hand that had been the practice until then as they slowly got to know each other. No, this had been real and deep, and had made something flicker behind her ribcage, a flame that had settled there and grown every day since. She wondered how long she could endure it, burning for him like that.

He’d left last week for a quick visit to Jurian and Vassa, settled as they were in the human lands. Only a week, he’d promised. And that week was almost up.

She intended to go back to the river house tonight, to relax, bathe, get ready for his arrival tomorrow, and though she knew she should get out of the cold, part of her, the part that burned at every quiet word and soft touch, drove her to take the left fork and walk by the house just to look again at the promise it held.

Decision made, she set off, bracing against the bitter chill of wind. She had almost asked to go with him just to get out of the city, but she knew the human lands were no better, if not colder, than here.

Having to keep her eyes half-closed against the sleet now beginning to fall in earnest, she squinted down at the icy road, biting back a half-amused, half-incredulous smile as she realised she knew the way without even having to look. So different to how it had been just two years ago, when she’d barely spoken a word to him, never mind been to his rooms.

How time, and a little bit of courage, had changed their relationship entirely.

With her mind so focussed on thoughts of him and the way they had grown closer she arrived at the gate in what seemed no time, and reached out a hand to steady it as it had popped open in the wind. Then she looked up at the house.

Lucien’s apartment was on the top floor of the townhouse, the bottom owned by an older couple who always smiled when they saw her and were happy to talk to her about the little garden they tended to out the front.

She was glad to know them, even if their smiles were a little too knowing every time she took Lucien’s arm, or stared a bit too long at his profile when he was talking.

Now, she looked up at the windows of the house, trailed over as they were with climbing ivy, and was surprised to see a light in the top corner. Had he returned early?

A few days into the new year he had handed her a key to the apartment, telling her to let herself in anytime, knowing that though she loved her family, loved little Nyx, sometimes living with them could be a little. Well, a little overwhelming.

Her fae body had made her more sensitive to loud noise, more prone to headaches than she used to be, and sometimes it was nice to come into the cool interior of his rooms, surrounded by that sun-soaked cinnamon scent, and simply let her mind drift.

She had been there just the day before to tend to the little succulent plants on his windowsill that were curling and yellowing at the edges, repotting and pruning. Maybe she had left faelight shining, and not realised.

Not wanting to go home until she knew for sure, she decided to go up and check. If he was back early, she would simply apologise for disturbing him. Perhaps he would even invite her in for dinner. Or something more.

She ascended the stairs, pulling her hands out the fur lined gloves she wore to fish the key out of her bag. Opening the door, she made to call out, in case he had returned and was simply in one of the other rooms but something stopped her. Not the bond, something instinctive and quiet, a cool voice that whispered to her to stop. Her magic, she realised.

She listened to the stillness, breathing quietly. What if someone else had come into the house? The thought hadn’t occurred to her until that moment, that someone could be in here, perhaps searching for something. Lying in wait. But crime was so low in Velaris, almost unheard of, especially in these parts.

Then she heard it; a quiet sigh.

Something in the back of her mind relaxed at that. For that was his voice, she knew. And, she noted, the heartbeat that pulsed along with her own sounded stronger here. So he had returned early, she thought, and he was in the bathing room, suddenly recognising where the sound had come from. The door was left open a crack, and she could now see the soft golden glow of faelight that danced behind it.

She strained her senses, the heightened faerie hearing that had overwhelmed her so much in the beginning, everything too much, too loud, coupled with the sound of a constant beating heart that she felt everywhere, not just if he happened to be in the room with her at the time.

Again, some part of her made her keep quiet, still and listening. If she concentrated enough, she could hear his breath, deep and slow, but also, she realised, heavy. Laboured. Concerned, she started forward. Had he been injured somehow?

She couldn’t help her concern whenever he left for extended periods, but this had been a short trip, visiting friends. There should have been no reason for him to fight, or get hurt in any way, yet his breath said otherwise, and the heartbeat which had grown louder the closer she strayed to the door was fluttering slightly, an irregular rhythm that increased and ebbed again and again.

Moving forward instinctually, she listened for any further sound. She dreaded to think, was he hurt and thinking himself alone to deal with the pain? Or was it something else, something deeper? She remembered her mother’s fever, the quickening heart, the sharp, short breathing that came before the end.

It was only the bond, contentedly warm against her ribs, that stopped her falling into panic. She knew, had been told so many times by Feyre and the others, there would be no doubt if he was in trouble, that the bond would tighten, she would be able to feel it. There was nothing that suggested pain, or discomfort, only a warm contentedness, no doubt from the heated pool she knew lay behind the panelled doorway.

Right, that solved that, she told herself. She should get away from the door and tend to the fire, get the room and the house heated before he emerged so they could talk together. There was no point leaving, he would know she had been here from her scent and she didn’t want to walk out without at least wishing him a good night’s rest. Perhaps, he may even kiss her again.

Something sparked in her stomach at the thought, bright in its intensity. Flattening a hand to her abdomen, she tried to will herself to calm, but as she did so another bolt shot through her. Though this time not in her stomach, but behind her ribs.

It was all she could do to stop from gasping aloud. The soft noises, the quickening heart.

Telling herself not to, she inched closer to the door, the sliver of golden light where it laid open. Only to check, she thought, not even fooling herself, only to see he was okay. Not for any other reason, she thought sternly, before her reason abandoned her entirely as she caught the scent that was flowing from the room among the steam from the water.

It was Lucien, yet somehow sweeter and richer than she had ever noted before, dark and stirring like the warmth of a campfire, like the heady sweetness of the earth in the sun, like the spice laden comfort of ginger and cinnamon.

Her breath deepened, slowing to savour the headiness of it, the rush of heat and desire it held.

Later, she would blame what happened next on the soft moan she heard through the door. In reality, there was nothing on her mind other than following that scent to its source, sliding into the warmth and depth of it. Courage bloomed from somewhere within her, the sound and scent of her mate pulling her on. She held out a hand, and pushed open the door.

He was reclined against the wall of the tub, eyes closed, brows drawn in a frown of concentration and need, lips parted as he exhaled. His long red hair was dark and slick from the bathwater, sticking to the side of his face and trailing lazily across his chest, the ends dancing as they splayed out into the water.

One hand was braced against the side of the tub for support, as the other – heat flooded through Elain at the sight, the sparking embers outside nothing compared to the tidal wave that washed through her, so abruptly she was almost dizzy from it, and she must have gasped, must have made some noise as his eyes flashed open and he pulled his hand away in shock, gripping the side of the tub and moving so quickly that the water rose to the lip and spilled over onto the floor.

"Elain!" he said, voice deep and out of breath, almost a groan. "I, what–"

Voice giving out in surprise, he made a tense aborted movement as if torn between grabbing the towel that lay pooled on the floor and shielding himself from her gaze. Clearing his throat, he tried again: "what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on the house," Elain said, hating how breathy her voice sounded, the tremble in it she knew was forever interpreted as shock, or fear, instead of a burning, consuming desire. "The light was on and I thought maybe. Maybe something had happened," she trailed off uselessly, unable to tear her eyes from his beautifully flushed face.

"I. Oh, yes, I," he paused again, still staring wide eyed as though she was an apparition. "Let me just get out, I –"

"No," she said, too loud in the silent room, taking both herself and Lucien aback.

They stared each other, she could hear his fast heartbeat overlapping with the sound of her own pulse beating in her ears. She took a breath. "Don’t get out on my account."

As the words left her mouth she saw him breathe in sharply, and before he could say anything else she drew all the courage she possessed, strengthened by the desire in her veins, and said "Please. Don’t stop because of me."

He swallowed, eyes darkening even as he dragged himself forward to sit fully upright in the water, holding her gaze.

"Elain."

Just her name on his lips sent a thrill through her, the implicit question in his voice. A request, perhaps even a plea.

"Don’t stop," she said simply, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

The surprise was still lingering on his face, a thousand questions written there, but whatever he saw in her eyes seemed to be enough as he leaned back ever so slowly until he was once again reclining against head of the tub.

They were both silent, both barely breathing, as his hand slowly trailed itself back to where it had been before she interrupted, and she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering down, down, to where he gripped himself again, cock flushed as pink as the blush still adorning his face.

She swallowed almost audibly, eyes snapping back to his.

Permission.

His body loosened and relaxed, bleeding out the tension that her appearance had caused, a small sigh drifting from his lips as he readjusted his hand, shifting in the water to get more comfortable before continuing the slow, dragging movement up and down the length of his shaft.

The water swirled around him, disturbed by the motion, and she watched mesmerised as it glinted golden from the light of the candles on the high shelf behind the tub, the hanging faelights in the air around her.

Watched too as the same water dripped down the length of his forearm every time it lifted out of the water, running in rivulets down the flexing muscles there.

His breath hitched, and she felt behind her ribs that same spark from before, now recognising it for the insistent desire that was coursing through Lucien as he pleasured himself. Cheeks heating, she wondered how much he had felt of her own desperate, late night sessions this past season, if he had felt her need for him as she touched herself.

Considering she had not felt him until they were in the house together, she hoped with embarrassment that it went both ways. She had not had much self-control of late, consumed by thoughts of him almost every night, of his warmth, his scent, the way his strong hands had cradled her head, her waist, as they kissed.

"Gods," he whimpered, and she drew her mind back to the present, watching intently as his eyes fell closed, brow furrowing as his hand sped up. The sound heated the pool of want in her, and it was all she could do to stifle an answering moan, feeling her own body respond.

What would those long, deft fingers feel like against her, she wondered, as she watched them twist over the flushed head of his cock. How well could they take her apart.

The image flew through her mind before she could stop it, him resting between her thighs, staring up at her with a devilish smile as he thrust his fingers inside her, the other hand driving her closer and closer with the pressure against her clit. A vision or a fantasy. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish between the two, but she fervently hoped this one would come true.

"Elain," he said, sounding like he was biting back a groan. She met his eyes again, flush deepening. Of course, as she could feel the sparks of heat as he fisted himself, he would be able to feel her desire from where it had began throbbing between her legs.

She tensed her thighs tighter together in an attempt to lessen the pressure, skirts shifting and sparkling in the low light.

"So good," he murmured, and she felt heat rush through her at the words.

Lucien’s other hand had come down to rest on his thigh, fingers pressing tightly against the smooth skin there, nails digging in just slightly as if he couldn’t control the amount of pressure he was using. Each slick twist of his wrist over his cock had them digging in sharper, and she could feel through the bond flashes of the pleasure-pain that it brought him, feel as it drew him closer to the edge.

Her breathing sped up to match his as his need crested, the slickness between her thighs increasing with each burst of want.

"Elain," he choked, and there was no mistaking the moan in his voice this time.

She dragged her gaze away from his cock to watch as his face twisted in pleasure, unable to keep his eyes open as it consumed him. She felt it, his cresting desire through the bond between them, felt as the tight ache gave way to blindingly clear pleasure, golden and slick and euphoric.

He groaned deep and low in his chest, and she watched him spill over his fist, ropes of thick cum coating his glistening pectorals, his abdomen.

Opening his eyes, he held her gaze, and despite the deep contentment she saw there the intensity and the heat made her squirm. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The ache between her thighs grew steadier and more evident the longer she looked at him. Everything she could think to say felt wrong, too flippant, or too embarrassing, too forward. But she had to say something, the silence becoming unbearable.

“I. I see you made it back alright. From your trip,” she stuttered, wincing internally.

“Indeed, my lady,” Lucin replied, still faintly out of breath, but with a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s…” she cast around for another word, anything at all to say, and came up blank.

He watched her flounder, then smiled.

“Would you hand me a towel, please,” he said, straightening up, flicking a hand to clear the mess from his abdomen and start the tub draining.

Glad to have something to do that didn’t involve staring blankly at him, Elain turned to find a towel in the open cabinet behind her. She took a couple of steadying breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and burning arousal. By the time she turned around she felt slightly more at ease, and he had stepped out of the tub and was standing dripping on the rug.

He held out a hand, expecting her to hand the towel over, but for the second time that night she drew her courage together and stepped closer. Without meeting his eyes, she drew the soft fabric over the skin on his neck, trailing across his shoulder, down his smooth, glistening chest.

When she reached the space below his navel she paused, and he must have read something in the tension that surrounded her because he placed his hand over hers, gently raising it back up to his neck, so that she was made to look up at him.

His expression was so unguarded she felt almost that she shouldn’t be looking, as if she could see every vulnerability within him in that moment.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said gently, still holding her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I want to,” she said simply. And she did, despite her uncertainty. She wanted to care for him, make him feel good and be made to feel good in return. But how to ask, she had no idea where to start. She felt him take in a breath, and waited.

“Have you … before I mean?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about drying him off, felt his own uncertainty through the bond.

“Yes,” she murmured, watching the flickering light from the candles dance across his cheek and spark in his golden eye.

“I didn’t, I mean, I thought you wanted to wait, a while.”

It was almost endearing to hear him tripping over the words, would even have been amusing if she didn’t feel seconds from collapsing under the weight of her own desire for him.

“I want you, Lucien,” she said, as steadily as she could manage.

He nodded slightly in response, and some of the tension in her melted away. It felt good, not to be questioned, to have him take her at her word. To have him know exactly what she meant, and respond equally.

He kept still, but she could feel his own want for her through the bridge connecting them. It had not dimmed, she realised, not once since she walked through the door.

Feeling bold, she raised the hand not holding the towel and smoothed it over his chest, sliding it along the heated skin there and up over his fine collarbone. Letting her do as she pleased, he titled his neck slightly and she cradled her hand around the back of it, trailing her fingertips over the wet strands of his fiery hair, gripping it.

“If you pull on it, I’ll have to kiss you,” he said, voice low and intoned with humour.

She smiled, the last of her uncertainty seeming to fade away with the action. This was Lucien. Her mate. He knew how to set her at ease, knew how to care for her. He would not push her any further than she wanted to go, nor would he shy away from her desire.

Grinning, she tightened her hold, and pulled him forward.

The first press of their mouths was soft, exploratory. A reassurance as much as a promise of more. After her lips parted and he licked into her mouth, it quickly descended into heat, sparking up her spine as if no time had passed since she had watched him bring himself to climax, need crashing into her again.

She moaned into the kiss, the wet slide of their mouths, the heat of his skin where his arms encircled her, his spiced rich scent invading all of her senses. How could simple kissing make her feel this way, as if she was on fire, as if she burned from the inside, every pore in her body filling with desire for him.

He broke away from her lips with a groan, pressing a burning line of kisses down her throat, stopping only when he met the fabric of her dress.

She wanted him to rip it off her, wanted to feel those lips all over her body, wanted no barrier left between them. But he broke away, kissing her again fiercely as if in response to her thoughts. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the heat from his naked body even through the fabric.

Panting, they split apart, her breath coming in quick gasps, and she stared up at him, the pupil in his russet eye blown wide, the blush staining his golden skin, lips parted and wet with their combined spit.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, hushed, and could have sworn surprise flickered behind his eyes before he smiled.

“As are you, Elain,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

Then he dropped to his knees.

---

A/N: Any comments are much appreciated - I've not written for this fandom before so pls be gentle. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated - part two should hopefully be out soon ;)

[lady-of-tearshed]

Family trip

Pairing : Elucien

Lucien Vanserra Week 2024

Day five : Home

@lucienweekofficial

Summary: In Lucien's mind, taking a family vacation with a toddler, an energetic daughter, an adolescent that reminded him too much of his brother, and a pregnant wife sounded easy. Relaxing, even. That was, unfortunately, far from reality.

Word count: 871 words

Warnings: None.

A/N: Okay- so this is basically more of a "Family" prompt than a "Home" prompt, but... yeah. Anywayn, enjoy!

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 🧡

“Da, it's itchy!”

Lucien breathed out through his nose, trying to exhale the accumulation of stress and fatigue the trip of their family vacation had put him in.

Traveling from Summer to the Autumn Court without winnowing took a grand total of three days. Three days is nothing to an immortal lifespan. But three days of traveling with a twelve year old adolescent, an eight year old ball of energy, a whiny three year old that still struggles to express his big feelings and an overstimulated pregnant wife… that felt like an eternity.

“Look at my scarf Dad!”

Lucien's head whipped to his one and only baby girl, giving her a thumbs up as she twirled, and twirled, and twirled in her new velvet coat, her scarf dancing in the air, following her movement and accidently hitting Lucien's eldest.

“Hey!” He protested, already set to start a fight with his sister.

“No fighting! Cauldron, Aidan!” Lucien snapped, teeth bared, sounding harsher than he had intended to.

“Cauldron?”

Lucien groaned. “No, no Cole. We can't say Cauldron-” Lucien eyes widened at the pile of ashes and lack of clothes on his youngest body. “Cole! Cauld- Ugh!”

Lucien covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. He knew damn well that when he'd open them again, the clothes would still be missing from his toddlers body, but…

“Can we go out now? Uncle Eris will be waiting for us,” Aidan complained behind Lucien, hanging himself loosely onto the doorknob. “Again.”

Lucien mentally cursed himself for that gods damned fiery blood genetics at Aiden's arrogant tone. He lifted Cole in his arms, going straight to his drawers to pick out an outfit, again.

“But Da… we don't wear that much clothes in Day…”

Lucien’s eyes softened at Cole's irresistible tiny pout, the same his mate did to trick him into any of her mischief and desires. Not that the pout was needed from Elain to make Lucien fold into her every whims and desires. He'd offer her the moon on a string if she'd ask for it.

“Because the weather is cooler in Autumn, that's why the leaves are different colors here.”

Lucien heard bickering from the other side of the door, but paid no mind. They never fought it out too hard anyway, and preventing them from doing so would cause even more chaos, and he wanted to leave this cabin as soon as possible to let his pregnant mate get some rest.

He saw the frown on his toddler's face as soon as he felt the texture of the wine red wool sweater on his skin. “Come on bud… just for a few days. Plus, grandma might give you an extra muffin if she sees you in the sweater she knitted specifically for you.”

At the mention of his grandma, Cole's eyes sparkled, his smile shining as bright as a mid-day sun. “Grandma made this one?”

“Yes, so don't burn it. ‘Kay bud?”

Lucien's ear twitched when he heard footsteps outside, then the front door opened. Quickly, he picked up Cole and rushed out of the bedroom, only to notice there wasn't a real threat.

“UNCLE ERIS!”

And damned was Elain's peaceful nap. Lucien groaned, and widened himself to the ground to free his wiggling toddler.

Eris assessed his nephews, an unnatural grin plastered on his face as he attempted to look pleasant.

Aidan beamed at his uncle when he squeezed his shoulder. “You've grown,” Eris stated, his eyes gleaming with an emotion Lucien couldn't quite tell.

“Yeah! Baba Helion says I'll probably be taller than my father someday!”

Eris hummed, then his gaze finally met Lucien's. His amber eyes scanned him from head to toe, then he grimaced when his eyes met back with his. “You've looked better,”

“You always look great,” Lucien mumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and running his hands through his hair in an attempt to look somewhat presentable.

“You're going to worry mother if she sees you in this state.”

Lucien wanted to argue back at Eris' bluntness, but before he could keep up with him, Eris added. “You rest with Elain, I'll bring them back by the end of the day,” Eris picked up Cole from the ground before he could climb all the way up into his arms. “And please, next time, at least remember to put on some pants.”

Lucien looked down in horror to confirm that he was indeed not wearing any pants, only his brief.

“Come on, rascals. We're going on an adventure,” Eris calls from over his shoulder, Aidan and Bridget following suit.

“Bye Da!” Cole waved from Eris' shoulder, his siblings already off and running ahead of Eris.

Lucien waved back, and closed the door behind them.

“Alone time?”

Lucien spun around and gasped at the sight of Elain, her skin glowing, her womb full and round with his child, Day Court’s traditional white silk robe hanging loosely onto her body. A low growl escaped his chest, and he scooped her up off the floor effortlessly, climbing the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a feather.

“Alone time…” He kissed her forehead, heading back to their chamber. “Let's go back to bed.”

And they did.

Acotar general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103

[clockwork-ashes]

Day 1 - Fated

happy elucien week and thank you to @elucienweekofficial i have been so so excited!!!! this is a short one-shot :)

Elain watched as streaks of light fell from the sky. 

Beautiful, a storm of blues and greens and whites, contrasting with the vast and endless darkness. 

Elain was completely captivated, her own wonder mixing with Lucien’s as his emotions travelled down their shared bond. She pushed away from the balcony’s rail, biting her lip nervously as she glanced his way. 

Lucien was smiling as he looked up at the sky, the falling stars reflected in his russet and golden eyes. Red hair fell in a braid down his back, looking lovely against his blue jacket. He was so handsome, and he belonged wholly to her, she thought. 

“So, what do you think?” Elain asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Lucien turned to face her, shaking his head as he laughed. “It’s unbelievable, the solstice isn’t like this in any of the other courts,” he admitted. 

Elain trailed her fingers up past his shoulders, letting her hand rest loosely on his neck. In response, he grabbed onto her waist, pulling her close. She leaned into his touch, tilting her chin up, going onto the tips of her toes, as he bent his head towards her. 

“Lucien,” she breathed, just before their lips came together. She grabbed onto his jacket, pulling him closer, his mouth moving against hers. 

Elain could not help releasing a soft moan as Lucien slipped his tongue past her lips, as he brought a large hand to her face and cupped her cheek. He tasted like home. 

Elain woke with a start, her chest rising and falling in time with the rapid beat of her heart as she sat up, nearly knocking into the headboard. 

“Just a dream,” she mumbled in an attempt to reassure herself, running shaky fingers through her tangled curls. It had felt so real, he had felt so real, that Elain was dizzy with desire. 

She clenched her thighs together as she remembered the way Lucien had kissed her lips, a promise for more in the way he had held her tightly to his broad chest. 

And she did not even know him, the thought rushed over her like cold water. 

Elain still knew very little of being fae, she had not wanted this life, but had come to slowly accept her fate in the Night Court. She knew even less about mating bonds, what they meant and why they were so important, and while Lucien was a stranger to her, she could not shake the incessant feeling that he was familiar. 

He is yours. 

It was the quietest of whispers in the back of her mind, pushing her to claim a man she barely spoke to. 

Elain fell back onto her pillows with a frustrated groan, attempting and failing to think of literally anything but her mate. 

“Lucien Vanserra,” she whispered into the small space of her bedroom. Even the way his name fell from her lips was familiar, like she had said it before in another life, countless times. 

Elain was still thinking about Lucien as she got ready for the day, choosing a dress in a blue that had matched his jacket from her dream unthinkingly. As she passed by a mirror in the upstairs corridor of the townhouse, she scowled at her reflection, but ultimately decided she was not going to change. 

Elain considered this fated mate business absolutely ridiculous. Lucien Vanserra, stranger that he was, should hardly be capable of influencing her basic decisions. She felt as her lips turned downwards into a frown, the golden thread at her rib aching in response to her negative thoughts. She brought a hand up to absently touch the spot near her heart, finding that it was beating unusually fast. 

Elain had not realised that her shoulders had curved slightly inwards in defeat, and she quickly adjusted her posture as she continued down the stairs, ever the perfect lady. She spotted Feyre walking past the arch leading into the living room and hoped her younger sister had not accidentally wandered into her mind, knowing if she had, a million curious questions would soon follow. 

“Morning, Elain,” Feyre said with a grin, waving a tattooed hand. 

Elain would have responded had she not nearly tripped on the last step as she saw who had followed her sister into the space. 

Lucien walked elegantly, like men in a ballroom, yet it came to him naturally, hardly forced. He was wearing a loose shirt, a black brocade waistcoat capturing her attention. The dark colour suited him, Elain thought, just as a wave of horror crashed over her. 

Elain grabbed onto the railing for support as his lips tilted up into a devastating smile. He politely bowed his head in greeting, and she had to stop herself from swooning as their gazes met. 

Elain felt her cheeks heat, suddenly sure that a blush had turned her pale complexion a dark scarlet. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, and almost stumbled once more. 

Lucien’s scent lingered in the air, smelling of early mornings and fresh apples. She wanted to lean into him, move impossibly close to him. Her eyes widened as they fell to the golden brown triangle of skin revealed at his neck. 

Touch him. 

Elain wanted to place her hand on his shoulders, to feel his skin beneath her palms, to run her fingers through his hair. Her dream flashed clearly in her mind’s eye and she wanted—

Feyre cleared her throat, dragging Elain back to the present. Lucien was staring at her with a confused tilt to his head, a bit expectantly, like he was waiting for her to say something.

Elain realised with embarrassment that he must have spoken to her, and as she glanced to her sister, Feyre’s expression mirroring that of her mate’s, her lips dropped open as she struggled to find her words. 

She made a choked sound, wanting to find a deep hole in the ground and simply lay in it until the world stopped spinning. “I…” she swallowed, tearing her eyes from Lucien’s. “I forgot something.” Then she whirled on her heal and skipped up the stairs two steps at a time, hoping Feyre would not follow. 

When Elain reached her bedroom, she felt the fingers of both her hands curl into fists. She had never wanted to become fae, had never really liked the idea of immortality, and had wanted to live in the human lands with a husband she had chosen. 

Elain was angry, unbelievably angry at the unfairness of it all, and who better to blame than the man currently just a staircase away, she thought. Her nails digging painfully into the skin of her palms, Elain decided she would live her life as though Lucien Vanserra was not her mate. 

* * *

Elain hummed softly to herself, the tune one she had heard at a local coffee shop hours before. Pink skirts flared around her as she sat on the cool grass, a pair of enchanted gloves on her hands as she pruned roses a startling shade of purple.

“Not too hot out here?” She heard Lucien’s question and turned towards the sound of his voice. 

Blowing a curl from where it had fallen in front of her face, Elain smiled up at him. “A little warm, I won’t be out much longer,” she reassured, squinting a bit at the brightness. 

Lucien looked like he was wearing a golden crown, she noticed, the sun’s rays giving him a regal appearance despite his casual attire. “I could get you some water,” he offered, providing her with a little more shade as he stood close by.

Elain shrugged, patting the ground next to her. “Or, you could sit for a minute, and then we can get lunch.” 

Lucien dropped to the ground rather suddenly and Elain heard herself giggle. “Whatever you want,” he said, their shoulders touching as he leaned towards her. 

He pressed his nose to the crook of her neck and Elain could not help but release a content sigh. Lucien moved her braid to the opposite shoulder, kissing the space beneath her jaw and Elain tilted her head to give him better access. 

Lucien hummed appreciatively, kissing her one last time, and Elain had to hold back a pout as he moved to lay back into the grass, all his weight resting on his elbows. She must have done a terrible job at hiding her disappointment because he raised an amused brow at her.

Elain shook her head, trying and failing miserably to focus on the roses. She made the mistake of casting one final look at Lucien, his face turned up towards the sun, eyes closed, a soft glow to his brown skin. She was struck with the sudden urge to bite him, to leave a mark and claim him as her own. 

“Change of plans,” Elain started, her attention entirely on her mate and no longer on her gardens. She sat up on her knees, inching closer to him as she spoke. “We go inside, take a bath together, and then go for lunch.” 

Lucien opened his russet eye, a lazy smile going over his features. “Whatever you want, Elain,” he said again. 

Elain wanted to kiss him, and since he had offered… 

Adjusting her skirts, Elain put a leg over his waist, sitting squarely on his lap. She shifted her hips, getting comfortable as his golden eye clicked into place, the other one dark with desire. He was unable to reach for her, still resting on his elbows, and Elain could smell his arousal mixing with the scent of the flowers. 

Elain took off her enchanted gloves, slowly, drawing out the moment before she leaned over him. “Lucien,” she said softly, her hand coming up to cup his jaw, the feeling of his scar familiar beneath her fingers. 

Elain saw as Lucien’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she moved closer, placing a featherlight kiss on the scar that cut across his lips. 

Elain woke up to the sound of a book falling against the hardwood floors. The thick cover made a loud noise and she was quick to open her eyes. Her lower back was a little sore and it took her a moment to realise that she had fallen asleep at her desk. 

Elain stretched her arms out in front of her, mind once again turning to Lucien. She scowled as she thought about the gentle way he had spoken to her, at the way he looked up at her almost reverently. 

The gloves he had gifted her for the solstice were lovely, a perfect present considering how often her regular gardening gloves ruined and she had to buy a new pair. Yet, Elain knew she was stubborn enough to never use them. 

Remembering how Feyre had given the gloves to her a few weeks ago with a knowing smile had made her blood boil. Lucien was a stranger, she wanted to yell, it was hardly proper of him to be getting her things, especially on important holidays. 

Instead, Elain had accepted the carefully wrapped box and had opened it in the privacy of her bedroom. The gloves had smelled like apples, like her mate, and Elain had thrown them into the drawer of her desk, wanting absolutely nothing to do with them. 

As Elain got up from her armchair, the wooden legs screeching in her rush, she opened the drawer with a bang. She grabbed the gloves roughly in her hands and wished she was strong enough to tear them to pieces. 

Elain walked with certain steps towards the fireplace, and she threw the gloves into the roaring flames. As the fabric was engulfed, catching alight easily, she considered perhaps that her dreams might not be simple figments of her imagination. 

After the war, Elain had not suffered from her visions, but if she was seeing snippets of the future in her sleep, she would do anything to try and avoid the dreams becoming a reality. 

The smell of the burning gift was sharp in the small space, and Elain took a deep breath, going to her desk without looking back. 

* * *

Elain was wearing a ball gown the colour of the sky at dawn. 

It was a perfect dress to celebrate the solstice in the Hewn City, going from a bright blue to a deep violet and trailing along the floor as she walked beside Lucien. Elain was glad she was not expected to dance, sure that her slippered feet would get tangled in the skirts no matter how hard she tried. 

There were pearls in her hair, her curls carefully pinned back, revealing her neck and the tops of her shoulders. It was a bit revealing for humans’ standards, but Elain was becoming increasingly more comfortable with the Night Court’s fashion. Hanging off her pointed ears were the loveliest pearl earrings, completing her look and tying it all together beautifully. 

Elain looked like a queen, and Lucien did not seem at all bothered by the admiring gazes others cast in their direction. 

“I think I prefer to celebrate the solstice in Velaris,” Lucien murmured against the arch of her ear. 

Elain nearly shivered at the feeling of his moving lips, wishing they were somewhere more private so she could grab onto the lapels of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “We still get to go out for Starfall,” she said in response, trying to push aside any thoughts of what she planned to do to him later in the evening. 

Lucien placed a hand onto her waist, and she leaned into his warmth, back arching into his touch. 

Elain sat up suddenly, her bed creaking as she woke up before her dream could become worse. Her heart was beating quickly, her chest rising and falling as if she had run up a flight of stairs. 

Elain looked outside her window to see that moonlight was still filtering in through the curtains, and she came to the conclusion that it must have been late in the night. Frustrated at another dream with her mate, Elain grabbed onto her pillow and pressed it to her face, releasing a short scream, the sound muffled. 

Her little outburst had made her feel a bit better, so she did it once again, hoping no one happened to walk by her room. “Just a silly dream,” Elain mumbled, throwing the blankets off her legs and putting her pillow back in its place. 

She sat on the edge of her bed, opening the drawer of her nightstand. In the darkness, she rummaged through her socks, biting her lip in concentration until her fingers dragged along a wooden box. 

Elain removed it from the drawer, her shoulders relaxing as she flipped open the lid. The pearl earrings Lucien had gifted her remained inside, pinned to a light blue pillow, looking lovely despite the lack of light in the space. 

Elain huffed in defeat as she pulled one from its place, letting it dangle in front of her eyes as she decided that she could not, in fact, destroy this gift. She wondered if they were expensive, if Lucien had bought them to impress her with his wealth or if there had been a part of him that simply knew she would have adored such lovely earrings. 

Putting them back in her drawer and covering the little box with her socks, Elain fell back onto her mattress. Staring at the ceiling, she wished one more time to anyone who might have been listening to her prayers, that she did not have a mate. 

* * *

Elain crawled under the white sheets, trying her absolute best not to wake her still sleeping mate. She had placed a freshly baked apple tart onto the nightstand after having tiptoed into the room she shared with Lucien. As soon as she selfishly tried to snuggle up against him, though, he took a deep breath. 

Elain paused, but it was too late and he shifted. “Where did you go?” He mumbled, scrunching his nose endearingly as he slowly opened his eyes. 

Elain put a hand on his chest, his skin warm to the touch. “I went to grab something to eat.” She had to stop herself from grinning, absolutely positive he would catch on to her intentions and ruin the surprise she had been planning for the last several weeks. 

Lucien hummed in response, pulling her closer as he rubbed at his eyes with his other hand. He kissed her temple before he asked, “What time is it?”

Elain shook her head, breathing a small laugh. “I didn’t even check,” she said with a smile, knowing they had slept in longer than was perhaps appropriate. 

“I had a meeting with Rhys.” He looked towards the window, where the sun was afternoon bright. 

“Oh no,” Elain said, not necessarily caring about her sister’s mate and what he might have wanted. Hearing her tone and recognizing it may have sounded rude, she cleared her throat. “At what time?”

Lucien adjusted his hold on Elain so that he hovered just above her, laughing. “I can’t remember.” 

If it had been any other morning, Elain would have wrapped her legs around his hips, would have let him take off the nightgown she had thrown on, and would have let him do as he pleased. Instead, she put her hands around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Lucien, I think you should eat something.” 

His eyes darkened, his desire clear. “I plan to,” he said, voice low, before he trailed his lips along her collar bone. 

Elain had to clench her thighs, reminding herself she needed to give Lucien the dessert she had baked. She gently pushed his shoulder, sitting up slightly as she reached for the apple tart, Lucien’s eyes widening as she held it between them. 

Lucien looked between the sweet and his mate, golden eye whirring, familiar. Elain watched as he swallowed, could feel the nervous beat of his heart. “Is that…” 

“To accept the bond,” Elain rushed to explain. “I wanted to make something special, your favourite. I spoke with your brother about the recipe, hopefully it tastes like the ones in Autumn.” She would have continued had Lucien not taken the dessert from her outstretched hands. 

Lucien was smiling, heartbreakingly handsome, as he kissed her. 

Elain’s heart was pounding as she woke up, the sound of Lucien’s own heartbeat in her ears. She could have screamed, wanting to break something within arm’s reach if only to satisfy the angry creature she became whenever he decided to visit Rhysand and Feyre. 

She quickly pulled on a simple dress, throwing her hair back messily with a ribbon, before going downstairs. Elain had hoped the little bit of distance would ease her nerves, the bond pulled taut whenever Lucien was near, but she was greatly disappointed at how useless the action had been. 

Elain pulled a large metal bowl from under the sink, grabbing flour and water before mixing them together until she was happy with the consistency. Baking calmed her, just as gardening did, but as her mind turned to the idea of fated mates over and over, she could feel her growing frustration. 

Elain punched at the dough rather violently, surprised at how much better she felt, and decided to repeat the gesture. She had never wanted a mate, was shackled to a man she barely knew, and she wanted to hate him. 

He is mine. 

“What has the flour ever done to you?” 

Elain almost dropped the bowl at the sound of the rich voice coming from the door to the kitchen. She turned around quickly, a look of horror going over her features as she spotted Lucien in his night clothes. 

“Can I help you?” Elain asked, the question coming across as combative even to her own ears. 

Lucien shrugged, “I’m just here to make my morning coffee.” When Elain did not respond, he raised a brow at her. “Is that alright?” 

Elain was taken aback at how considerate he was, given how often she ignored his presence. “Yes,” she nodded, the movement so quick she figured she must look ridiculous. “Yes, of course.” 

Once he had been given permission, Lucien went about his business and Elain turned her attention to the dough she had been kneeding. Holding her breath as he moved closer so as not to become distracted by his scent, Elain kept her eyes purposefully to the ground. 

“Could you pass me the sugar?” He asked, standing behind her but at a respectful distance. Elain was struck with the sudden realisation that if she refused, he would simply drink his coffee without any sugar.

Without speaking, she opened the cupboard just above her head, getting onto the tips of her toes to reach the jar. Elain finally looked up to meet his mismatched eyes as she handed it to him. 

“Thank you,” Lucien said softly, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from her. 

As soon as their fingers touched, Elain felt a small spark come to life inside her, sure that if she was careless, it would become a roaring fire. 

Elain pulled away, stepping back and bumping into the counter behind her rather painfully. To end the awkwardness, she blurted loudly, “Do you like apple tarts?” 

The question hung in the air between them, like so many other things left unsaid, Lucien could have chosen not to answer. Elain was happy when he raised an auburn brow at her. 

“They happen to be my favourite dessert,” he answered her honestly, russet eye searching her face, although Elain was not sure for what. 

Elain nodded, whirling around and focusing entirely on the bread she had planned to make. 

Lucien did not linger, taking his coffee and leaving as soon as she ended their conversation. Elain listened to his parting footsteps, sighing as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her nerves. 

My mate.

For the first time in years, Elain was comforted by the thought. 

[ervotica]

pairings; tamlin x reader, tamlin x lucien vanserra, tamlin x elain archeron, lucien vanserra x reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron, elain archeron x reader. tamlin x lucien x elain x reader. this is a poly fic!

a/n; my first tidbit of these four! still undecided on whether it will stay x reader or i’ll create an oc (leaning towards oc atm but let me know!) any thoughts or discussions for this dynamic and these four are open! my inbox is always open for them <3

warnings; none really just fluff, suggestiveness, established relationship dynamic, polycule

thinking about how hard elain would blush if you started calling her lainy.

she hides her face and muffles her giggles with the palm of her hand as you coo over her, the nickname falling from your honeyed lips in a way that has her skin prickling with heat, subtly fanning at the white-hot flush that seizes hold of her every nerve ending.

lucien positively roars with amusement at the effect you have on her, his willowy stature drifting over to the pair of you where you’re sat in the grass, hair tousled and windswept with the breeze of the spring morning. he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks and snorts at the residue of heat that emanates from elian’s milky skin, flushing her a soft shade of pink.

the way tamlin follows the redhead’s lilting laughter always amuses you, as though he has a sixth sense for the three of you, drawn to you like a magnet. he drops a kiss atop elain’s head fondly before he’s hooking his arms beneath your shoulders and hiking you up and into his lap to whisper tauntingly in your ear.

“teasing, are we, my flower?”

“never!” you gasp, swatting indignantly at his chest; he only tightens those thick corded arms in response, nudging at your jugular with the bridge of his nose. a deep hum seeps through his chest when you go limp and pliant, a content smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. he presses a kiss there, too— right at the crease of your lips, the lines carved into your face from years of laughter.

lucien’s lithe fingers are pushing at elain, ushering her into tamlin’s arms right beside you so he can cage the pair of you in, his arms easily finding purchase splayed over you both, sandwiching the four of you together in a mismatched sort of embrace. elain has gone soft against tamlin, mirroring you, ever the epitome of tranquility: eyes closed, a placid smile on your face as your mate nips and kisses at your bare neck.

lucien crowds your space some more, a fervent kiss pressed to each pair of lips in turn; he lingers on tamlin, his tongue darting out to probe further into the high lord’s mouth, jostling both you and elain slightly until you’re pressed chest to chest, trapped between the males as the sounds of wet kissing and deep, gravelly moans encase you. elain tugs you forward by means of her fingers curled around the bodice of your dress.

“c’mon,” you guide her out of the tangle of limbs, coming to rest only a few feet away from the males, who are now tearing at each other’s clothes. “animals…” you muse, eyes bright with laughter as you press a hand to her ribcage and nibble at her bottom lip. she gasps, instinctively arching to press more of her body to yours. she’s docile and receptive as you lay her down in the lawn and crawl on top of her.

you grin and it’s wicked, alight with mischief.

“come on, lainy. we don’t need those brutes to have fun.” her responding giggle is muffled by your mouth slanting over her own, soft hands - so unlike that of your mated males’ - threaded through her hair.

she thinks she’d do anything you’d ask her as long as you keep talking to her in that sweet voice.

[shadowisles-writes]

Too Sweet 🍯 Elucien Week Day 7

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait Until that day I'd rather take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me - Too Sweet, Hozier

A/N: I hope everyone had fun with this week, the amount of elucien content I've seen on my dash was unreal and I'm so excited to go catch up on all the fics that have been posted over the past few days! To finish off well, I've kept this fic in my docs for a while because the only right way to finish elucien week for me is definitely a smutty AU <3

Summary: Lucien believes Elain is too sweet for him, and she's very quick to prove him wrong. (smut, ice play, light choking)

Word count: 4530

“Which one is she?” Lucien tilted his head in curiosity.

There were three girls sitting at the table a few feet away from them. Two of them had to be twins, with perfectly matched dark skin, identical features and raven black hair. The other one was a brunette in a yellow dress patterned with tiny flowers. The dress was more suited for a summer picnic than an evening in a bar.

“The brunette.” Jurian jutted his chin as she laughed at something her friends said, her hand shyly coming to cover her face.

“You’re not serious,” Lucien chuckled and took a sip from his whiskey. “You know that’s not my type.”

Historically, pretty girls in pretty summer dresses truly weren’t, and Lucien wasn’t their type either. He rode a bike no matter the weather rather than buy a car, wore a leather jacket to go with it, and the lip ring didn’t scream “meet the parents” type of guy. If that wasn’t enough to scare them away, the brutal scar that ran in three jagged lines from his forehead, across his eyebrow and all the way to his cheek usually did the job.

“Your type is girls you can fuck and leave in the morning without causing a fuss.” Vassa scoffed. “You said you wanted more, I found you a girl who can be more.”

“Not this one.” Lucien knocked back the rest of his drink, determined to win this argument.

What he didn’t account for was that Vassa didn’t care enough to argue with him. She got up from their table before his glass touched the table again and headed for the girl she had met in the bathroom less than an hour before.

She turned, and it was only then that Lucien saw her face. Too pretty, too sweet. He knew it from one glance and tore his eyes from her before they could make eye contact. He didn’t need her thinking that he was interested or that he’d make a move on her.

“Here we go,” Jurian grinned a few seconds later.

“Vassa can be mad all she wants, I’m not going over there.”

“You won’t need to.” A foreign voice interrupted.

Lucien had no choice but to turn and face her. A laugh muffled into a cough came from his left, followed by a sound that had to be Vassa punching Jurian’s arm. A scrape of a chair, then Lucien knew he was alone.

“Evening,” was all he said to the girl.

She was beautiful. Her heart shaped face was framed by wavy hair, and her pretty pink lips were still smiling. Lucien counted a couple of seconds before her eyes went to his scar and trailed the whole length of it.

“I’m Elain, may I sit?” She rested her hand on the back of the chair across from Lucien and he nodded. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” She asked as she gracefully took the seat.

“Lucien,” he pushed his glass aside with his knuckles and rested both of his forearms on the edge of the table as he really took her in.

The dress was out of place for the bar, but it suited her. The way the square neckline framed her chest made it hard for him not to let his eyes dip low, but he remained focused on her face. Lucien gave her another minute before she’d conclude she hated him.

Elain smiled wider instead. “How eloquent.”

“If what you’re looking for tonight is conversation, I’m afraid you’ve picked the wrong table.”

“Mmh, what am I signing up for then?”

Lucien wished he didn’t feel a spark of delight at the defiance in her tone. He wasn’t an asshole—Lucien was raised too well not to hate being rude, but he couldn’t let her go on. “I’m sorry, Elain. You seem really nice, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Jesus Lucien,” she laughed. “You’d think I asked you to marry me.”

Lucien couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “I’m not husband material.”

“Good,” Elain beamed. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

She was pure sunshine. Happy, beautiful, bright sunshine. 

Lucien sighed, “I’m not boyfriend material either.”

“That’s not what your friend said.”

At this, he actually laughed. “If you think Vassa is trustworthy, your judgment is severely off.”

Elain set her hands on the table and asked in a serious tone, “are you going to fight me every step of the way, or are you going to buy me a drink?”

Lucien raised a surprised brow silently waved at one of the bartenders for their attention.

A fruity mocktail and a whiskey neat later, he knew he was in trouble. Elain was beautiful, and funny, and she managed to smile and make a joke of every dry answer he threw at her. Lucien was smiling so much that his reticence was hardly believable. 

Even alone in the bar’s bathroom, Lucien had to grin at the mirror like an idiot.

“Dammit,” he cursed softly and tried to convince himself he’d tell her to leave once he got back to their table. He could do this, save himself the struggle of any sort of attachment before it was too late. They weren’t compatible. He could tell her to leave.

Elain was talking with her friends when Lucien emerged from the bathroom. They had jackets on, but hers was still on the back of a chair. She beamed when she saw him and walked over, forcing Lucien to notice how short she was compared to him. How easy she’d be to pick up and throw on his bed. How comfortable it might be to have her nestled in his arms on the couch.

Tell her to leave. That was his task, but Lucien was distracted by the pretty honey of her eyes and the way she had to crane her neck to look up at him when she stood so close to him.

“You’re too sweet for me, Elain.” He breathed out.

Elain cocked her head. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Honey,” Lucien looked down without lowering his head enough to risk doing something stupid like kiss her. “Go home with your friends.”

“Why don’t you take me home yourself?”

He almost screamed. Was there nothing he could say for her to stop tempting him? “You’re not getting on my bike in a dress,” was his last argument.

She smiled wider and shrugged. “I have a car.”

“You really have an answer for everything,” Lucien laughed in disbelief.

“If you don’t want to go home with me you can just say that,” Elain was serious then, her feet shuffling just a step back. “It’d be quicker than your half assed excuses.”

He knew he should say it, but the words that came out of his mouth were “Get your jacket, Elain.”

.

Her home was cozy. The lights were dim and warm, and the place was neat while looking lived in. Her couch looked like sitting meant sinking into the cushions forever and Lucien had half a mind to drag her there and sit her in his lap already.

“Do you want some water?” She dragged him out of his filthy thoughts with a polite offer, so Lucien cleared his throat.

“Sure, thank you.”

He curiously kept on walking to the next door. He found a blue themed bathroom, with a flowery shower curtain and the matching bath mat. There was only one other door, so he stepped into her bedroom and took in the postcards lined up on one of the walls.

“I get them from museums wherever I travel,” Elain explained as she stepped in behind him.

“Cute,” he commented and took the glass of water from her.

She had put a few ice cubes in, and he almost dipped his fingers in to hold one to her skin. He wanted to trace her neck, her chest, watch her nipples harden, then follow that trail with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, she smoothed her hands down her dress. “You didn’t come here to talk about postcards.”

“Unless that’s all you want to do.”

“It’s not.” Elain removed the glass from his hand, put it on her nightstand, then reached for the fabric of his shirt. “It was hard work getting you here in the first place, I’m not about to change my mind.”

“Good,” Lucien cupped her cheek and finally allowed himself to kiss her.

Elain let out a tiny whimper, the smallest of noises that had Lucien’s free hand flying to her lower back to press her against him. All of the restraint he had been grasping at since she first talked to him flew out of the window. Lucien let his hand slide back to tangle his fingers in her hair, he twisted into the strands at the back of her neck and tilted her head up to better claim her mouth with his.

Elain whimpered again, her hands grasping at his shirt in all the wrong ways in a pathetic effort to get it off. Lucien groaned when her nails scratched at his skin and kissed her harder. He’d expected her to be chaste, or at least to ease into things, but Elain was kissing back just as ardently, their lips and tongue meeting in a mess that made his head spin.

She only hesitated when her tongue teased at his lip ring like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Lucien slowed down enough for her to figure out how to play with it, a quiet moan coming from the back of his throat when her teeth lightly tugged on the metal. His blood rushed south too fast, urging him to move his hands to her ass and bring her even closer.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Lucien left her mouth to start trailing kisses down her jaw, her neck. He found the spot that made her breath hitch and grazed it with his teeth before sucking on the sensitive skin just long enough to leave a mark. At the same time, his fingers began to tug at the sleeve of her dress to pull it down, the other hand still on Elain's perfect ass. Lucien exposed her breasts, his lips following the hem of the dress until he could finally suck her nipple into his mouth.

Elain moaned, a hand flying to his head to guide him where she wanted. Her knees nearly buckled when he caught her nipple between his teeth and tugged just enough to send a hot wave of pleasure through her.

"I need this off," he groaned in annoyance when the dress wouldn't go any lower than her waist, and Elain chuckled breathlessly.

"There's a zipper," she turned and offered her back to him. "Can't hurry everything."

"My bad," he pressed an apologetic kiss to her neck.

Lucien's fingers fumbled with the fabric to find the zipper, then pulled it all the way down to let it fall to the floor. She wasn’t wearing panties, so he wasted no time turning her around to guide her back until her knees hit the edge of the bed. Elain sat and gasped as he immediately fell to his knees in front of her.

Lucien was rushing this, but a nudge at her knees was all it took to spread her legs and see the glistening wetness already clinging to her inner thighs. He tore his eyes from the pink pussy he was dying dive into and latched on to the soft skin of her thigh instead, biting and licking on each side until light purple marks began to litter her thighs. Elain was growing impatient under his touch, writhing and lifting her hips to get him closer, but he denied her every time.

“Stop teasing,” she eventually grabbed his hair to put his mouth where she wanted it.

Lucien caved, at least as desperate as she was. Her taste spread on his tongue and wetness coated his face, but he’d never minded getting messy. He tried not to get lost immediately and paid attention to the way her breathing hitched when he did certain things. Lucien kept a hand on her inner thigh and felt the way her muscles clenched every time his tongue stroked a sensitive spot. He mapped her out with his tongue until he knew exactly what patterns worked to make her moan.

Elain loosened her grip on his hair, no longer guiding but accompanying as she relaxed into his touch. Lucien looked up at her with eyes wild with desire and echoed her moan with one that vibrated against her pussy. He licked and sucked eagerly on sensitive skin until she was close to seeing stars. Elain threw her head back on the pillow, eyelids fluttering shut as she got lost in the sensations.

She didn’t see Lucien reach for the glass of water just close enough for his hand to wrap around it, didn’t dare complain when fingers replaced his mouth on her clit, thinking he might need to catch his breath. Then, his cold tongue stroked her and Elain lost a cry.

She jolted to look at Lucien, whose eyes were full of mischief as he sucked her clit into his mouth until the cold sensation was replaced by warmth. Elain would have complained if he didn’t choose this moment to gently press two impossibly thick fingers inside of her while his tongue still moved on her clit. Whatever she was about to say came out as a garbled whine and gasps.

Lucien curled his fingers just so, and the dragging against her sweet spot combined with his tongue began to make her thighs shake. He kept his pace steady, building the pleasure up, and up, and up until Elain came on his fingers and tongue with a soft cry. She panted, eyes rolling back with each wave of pleasure while Lucien hungrily lapped up everything she gave him.

Elain had to shove his head away for him to finally lift himself from her pussy.

“That little trick was mean,” she said breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Lucien chuckled as he wiped his face with his hand and came back to hover atop her body. “What are you going to do about it?”

He had expected an eye roll, maybe a half hearted slap on his arm. Instead, Elain took him by surprise and used her hips to roll them over. She perched herself in his lap and carefully placed her hand on his neck. She wasn’t pressing down, but Lucien stopped breathing all the same.

“How about you take your clothes off and find out how I play?”

Yes please, was what he would have said if he could still speak. Lucien nodded instead and wordlessly began to move to remove his shirt. Elain lifted herself from his lap, freeing his neck so he could hurry to undress. She watched without an ounce of shame, eyes filled with lust the more she got to look at him.

Lucien wanted nothing more than to keep pleasing her. He was on his back once again in seconds, his cock painfully hard and leaking a bead of precum. Elain climbed back on him—ass low on his thighs so she wouldn't touch his cock just yet. Looking right into his eyes, Elain placed her hands high on his chest and carefully brought both thumbs to brush his nipples.

Lucien surprised himself with the loud gasp he let out, his cock twitching from the stimulation. No one had ever bothered to play with his nipples, and the wicked grin growing on Elain's face told him she was going to keep on exploiting that particular weakness. She removed her hands and leaned to the side, and Lucien followed with his eyes as she dipped her fingers into the glass to pull out an ice cube.

He would have fumbled and dropped it for sure, but Elain moved with confidence and she must have been the sexiest thing he had ever seen perched on top of him like this. A drop of cold water fell on his chest—just enough to make him jerk lightly.

"Payback's a bitch," Elain murmured as she held the ice in front of her. "Did you know that?"

"I-ah," the next words out of Lucien's mouth were unintelligible as she ran the ice cube from his Adam's apple down the middle of his chest.

His breaths were shudders as she went back and traced random lines, then suddenly followed his collarbone, swirled in an unexpected circle, moved along the lower line of his pectorals. Lucien was positive he'd lose his mind, and he nearly swatted her hand to reverse the situation. His curiosity regarding her next move was the only thing that kept him from doing so.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had wanted anyone this badly. The ice cube melted somewhere around the V of his lower stomach and Elain wrapped her still cool hand around his hard cock. Lucien tried not to jerk, and miserably failed. A few strokes of her hand and the press of her thumb at the top were enough to make him whimper like he’d never been touched by anyone in his life.

Elain shimmying up his body to rest a hand on his chest and grind her soaked pussy against his cock should have felt like a mercy, but Lucien didn’t know how he could keep himself together long enough to please her. A breathless moan escaped her every time the head of his cock caught her clit and she went from slowly grinding to adding more pressure in a maddening cycle that was about to become Lucien’s undoing.

“Fuck, Elain, I can’t—” he groaned and got stopped by her small hand on his neck again.

“Not yet.” She ordered without ever slowing down.

Lucien would have done just about anything to obey. He dug his nails into his left palm and lifted his other hand to her waist, caressing up and down her impossibly soft skin. His eyes remained torn between looking at the glassy look in her own or the way her tits bounced with each rock of her hips.

In the end, it was her small hand adjusting his now soaked cock at her entrance that caught his attention. Elain lowered herself slowly, little sighs of pleasure falling from her lips while Lucien struggled to keep ahold of himself at the sight of his cock disappearing in her perfect pussy. Careful up and down motions took her lower and lower, their bodies easily sliding together with how wet she was, but Elain was still struggling to take him.

Elain winced slightly. “I don’t know if I can, ah,” she had to lift herself to be able to keep breathing.

Lucien pushed on the mattress to sit up and carefully grabbed her ass to adjust their position. He bent his knees to cross his ankles, and Elain shifted to wrap her legs around him.

"There," Lucien licked a hot stripe up her neck and guided her hips down on his cock again, stopping before he accidentally went in to deep. “Do what feels good,”

This position gave her more support so she could control her movements without having to exhaust herself. Lucien leaned back on one hand and brought the other between their bodies to toy with her clit. Elain’s chest flushed a bright pink along with her cheeks, her pants were quickly muffled into a kiss and Lucien tried not to weep from the maddening tightness of her pussy on his cock.

Fucking perfect, was all Lucien could think when she let her head fall back.

“Too much,” Elain dug her teeth into her lower lip in a failed attempt to hold back a desperate whine. “I need you to, ah, please.”

The last word was his undoing. Lucien fell over the edge right along with her; he bit her shoulder with a groan as he emptied himself inside of her. Even as he panted, trying to catch his breath after his release, Lucien knew he’d been thinking of this night for the rest of his life.

With Elain still atop him, Lucien carefully licked the light marks his teeth left into her skin before moving up, nuzzling her neck briefly and catching her lips in a messy kiss. She pushed at his shoulders gently, and he lowered them back onto the mattress on their sides, carefully slipping himself out of her. They didn’t say a word for a minute—or five, Lucien wasn’t sure he could count anymore.

“Should we…” Elain broke the silence and traced a finger down his chest.

Lucien shivered and eagerly agreed, “Yes, if you give me a minute. Or five.”

She didn't, already pushing herself up on her elbow to look at him better. “Oh I have ideas on things to do while we wait.”

“Oh?”

It took both of her hands on his shoulders for Lucien to lay fully on his back and keep still to watch what she’d do next. Elain threw her leg over his body to straddle his torso and moved up, and up.

“I like where this is going,” Lucien licked his lips in anticipation.

“Open your mouth.” Elain said before her knees reached either side of his head. “Tongue,” she added once he complied.

She sat without hesitation, her pussy dripping their mixed fluids on his tongue. “That’s it,” she praised quietly when he kept still and let her grind herself on his tongue the way she wanted. “Just let me, mmh.”

Lucien was in heaven. His eyes remained wide open to stare at her, perfect and just a little bit sweaty as she took what she needed from him. His hands fit just right over her ass, supporting each roll of her hips. He had never been used like this before, but he’d let Elain do it until the day he died. Wetness covered his mouth and cheeks, slick on her inner thighs that made the filthiest wet noise against his face every time she moved.

Lucien groaned as the muscles in her legs tightened and her breathing grew more erratic. Elain was going to come on his face again, and he didn’t think his cock had ever been harder. He watched the way her skin flushed bright pink, his toes curling when she suddenly reached for his hair and tightened her fist in the red strands.

“Lucien,” she moaned his name as she moved faster, ground harder.

She came without slowing down, riding each wave of pleasure with whimpers that had Lucien’s cock twitching. He cleaned her up with his tongue, eyelids fluttering at the taste of her until she ground her hips to a halt. He almost begged her to come back when she lifted herself to slide back down his body, but she went boneless in his arms and he could do nothing but catch her.

Lucien ran his hand up and down her back soothingly while she recovered, he felt the urge to kiss her temple, too, but held himself back in fear that the gesture would be too intimate for people who barely knew each other. Then, his chest almost shook with a laugh that a kiss could be too intimate after his tongue had been in her pussy.

“You okay?” He asked softly when she moved again, her hips sliding to trap his hard cock between her soaked pussy and his stomach.

“Mmh,” she adjusted again so the head caught at her entrance and carefully slid down.

Her wince made Lucien frown. “If it’s too much we can—”

“It’s not,” Elain interrupted. “You might just need to…” Her weight shifted, and Lucien followed until he was on top of her, her sinfully perfect legs wrapped around his waist. “There.”

Her heels dug into his skin to urge his hips forward and Lucien whimpered.

He had tried not to push all the way in too fast considering how she’d struggled to take him earlier, but riding his face must have worked wonders because her pussy practically sucked him in to the hilt and Lucien lost his mind the moment his hips were against her skin. He gave her a couple of slow strokes, watching out for her reaction, but there was nothing but bliss on her face.

Lucien lost himself in her, thrusting harder, skin slapping together every time and dragging uncontrollable moans from them both. It was nothing like the calculated way he ate her out earlier, or her controlled pace on top of him, this was an animalistic craving. Their skin was slick with sweat, bodies more slippery as he grabbed one of her thighs and hiked it up higher to be able to pound into her.

Elain cried out, the new angle doing something to her that had Lucien cursing through groans. He desperately wanted to feel her come on his cock again, but he was already out of his mind with pleasure and he had no idea how much more she could take. Her cunt tightened on his cock with each thrust, so wet they had to be making a mess of her bedsheets, and Lucien’s mind immediately went to the mess he’d make inside of her when he came.

The thought was enough to make his hips stutter. His arms trembled from holding himself up and keeping up such a hard rhythm, and he focused on not crushing her so hard he didn’t even notice her get close. Elain came so hard she nearly sobbed, pussy clenching around him in a way that made it impossible for him to hold back.

Her small hands clutched Lucien’s back as he lost all control and thrust roughly for another few seconds before he spent himself inside of her with a groan. His cock twitched hard, spilling as deep inside of her as he could get in a moment so earth shattering he knew he’d never recover from her.

Their pants were out of sync, both of their breathings erratic until Lucien leaned down to kiss her again. Elain hummed against his lips softly and let him roll them over again so she was laying on top of him. She broke the kiss to rest her her cheek on his shoulder, their chests now rising and falling together.

“I’ve never, um finished just with someone in me before,” she eventually said, still breathless.

Lucien grinned at the ceiling like an idiot and tried not to let his ego inflate too much. “How was it?”

“Life altering, I think. You should try it.”

“Having someone in me?” Lucien chuckled.

Elain’s giggles were like sunshine. “I’m having a hard time thinking, but I don’t see why not if you’re up for it.” She turned to look at him and cocked her head pensively. “Are you?”

“I could be,” he admitted.

Something sparked in her eyes. “Do you want to find out?”

“Right now?” Lucien was both turned on and alarmed.

“Maybe later,” she laughed at his panic. “Or another time.”

“Another time,” he agreed, like he had never doubted for a second that he would want to see her again.

[sonics-atelier]

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

For @lucienweekofficial Day 7 : AU

AN : Was going through my wips and found this which was perfect for AU day. Princess Diaries + Elucien = Perfection. Have fun reading <3 WC : 720. Read Below or on Ao3

The sun was setting over the Summer Court, casting a warm golden hue across the lush gardens. The soft murmur of a nearby fountain filled the air as Elain and Lucien strolled together, their steps slow and unhurried. The day had been long, filled with endless meetings and discussions about court alliances, and both were eager for a bit of playful escape.

Elain twirled her delicate lace fan in one hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced at Lucien. He caught her look and raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a smirk.

“What’s that look for?” Lucien asked, his tone teasing.

Elain’s smile widened. “Just thinking about how much I loathe you,” she said dramatically, her voice dripping with mock disdain.

Lucien placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You loathe me? That’s funny, because I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “I loathe you too, Elain.”

She let out a gasp, raising her fan to swat him on the arm. “How dare you! You infuriate me more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Lucien chuckled, catching her wrist gently before she could swat him again. “Likewise. You’re impossible, Elain.”

Their eyes met, the playful banter crackling like electricity between them. There was something intoxicating in the way they sparred with words, both knowing full well that there was no real malice behind their teasing. It was a game they both enjoyed far too much.

“Oh, really?” Elain challenged, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “You loathe me that much?”

Lucien’s gaze darkened, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly as he pulled her closer. “More than you can imagine.”

Without warning, Lucien’s gaze dropped to her lips, and in that instant, Elain’s breath hitched. The tension between them snapped, and in the next breath, Lucien’s lips crashed against hers.

Their lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, the kind that spoke of months of unspoken feelings, of a bond neither of them fully understood but could no longer deny. It was wild, fierce, and utterly consuming. Elain’s fan slipped from her hand, forgotten as she tangled her fingers in Lucien’s hair, pulling him closer.

They stumbled backward, neither paying attention to their surroundings until they collided with the edge of the fountain. With a surprised yelp, they both toppled over, falling into the cool water with a splash.

For a moment, they were both stunned, sitting in the shallow fountain, drenched from head to toe. Then, as the shock wore off, Elain burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the garden. Lucien joined in, the rich sound of his laughter blending with hers, their earlier playful tension dissolving into pure joy.

“You… you really are impossible,” Lucien managed between laughs, his hands still holding onto her waist as they sat in the water.

Elain leaned her forehead against his, her laughter softening into a warm smile. “And you’re infuriating,” she murmured, her eyes shining with affection.

He brushed a wet strand of hair from her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “Maybe, but I think you might just like that about me.”

Elain pretended to think about it, then nodded with a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Lucien smiled, leaning in to kiss her again, this time softer, more tender. The water rippled around them, but neither cared. The world outside their little fountain seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, tangled together in a perfect moment of playful romance.

Eventually, they pulled apart, breathless and still smiling. Lucien helped Elain to her feet, both of them dripping wet and looking thoroughly disheveled. But neither minded. If anything, the unexpected dip had only added to the delight of the evening.

“Shall we call a truce?” Lucien asked, offering his arm.

Elain looped her arm through his, her smile still wide. “For now. But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you for all your infuriating ways.”

Lucien chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple as they began walking back to the manor. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they walked away from the fountain, their laughter still lingering in the air, Elain couldn’t help but think that perhaps there was nothing quite as wonderful as loving—and loathing—Lucien Vanserra.

- @sonics-atelier 2024 ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form )

Dividers by @cafekitsune <3

[lady-sunbeam]

Pearls

For @elucienweekofficial - Day 2: Golden

Summary: Lucien finally learns the truth of his heritage. Elain finds herself a willing source of comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

In recent months, her life was blissfully quiet, spent weeding the gardens and contentedly ignoring her mate, who, for all intents and purposes, took to ignoring her in turn. It wasn’t as if she could blame him, not when she’d spent so long wanting Azriel, not when she’d turned down every attempt from Lucien to be cordial. But she wouldn’t lie to herself and say that the emptiness of the bond between them wasn’t leaving her off-kilter and cold. 

Not that she had any interest in seeing the male, of course. 

No, she did not want to see him, Elain reminded herself as she pinned up her hair in a comb of pearl. A gift from Feyre’s most recent visit to the Summer Court, one where Amren remained behind with her lover and would for several months. If Rhysand was at all concerned with the female potentially wreaking havoc, he said nothing, only said that he was glad Cassian’s mate had not been of Summer, for they might have had another building on their hands. 

Family dinners had become quieter recently, Azriel courting a priestess friend of Nesta’s - Gwyn, Elain thought, a beautiful female with a clear, unwavering voice; she should have seen it coming, all things considered – and Cassian hardly capable of keeping his hands off Nesta for the time it took them all to eat. 

Even though the company varied every night and sometimes she sat with only Feyre, her brother-in-law, and her nephew, Elain dressed as if she were to be presented at court. She selected a dusty pink gown that draped over her curves more daringly than she might have worn years ago, in a forgotten land, in an ancient time, though more modest than most Night Court fashion. Rhys himself had found a dressmaker for her when she first arrived. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had refused her help for dinner tonight, however; her insistence was met with two walls strong as iron as the wraiths sent her upstairs to bathe and dress. Admittedly, it took very little to convince her, tired as she was from chasing Nyx all day, and Elain trudged upstairs to do as they said. 

Clasping a string of pearls around her neck, she glanced to the corner of her vanity, to the pearl earrings that had been sitting there since Solstice. A beautiful gift, one she would have appreciated greatly had it been anyone but her mate. Mate – a strange, animal-like word. She could hardly stand the sound of it, even as the golden thread tied delicately around her rib like a hair ribbon shimmered and pulsed at the barest acknowledgement. 

At length, she reached for them, turning the studs over between her fingers. Surely no one would recall who it was that had gifted them to her. Surely. . . surely, he would not know she acquiesced even that tiny step. They were lovely, and she had nothing else that might fit her gown so well, the pearls shining with a faint pink hue. As if, despite her best attempts to push Lucien away, he’d known what colors she preferred, what complimented her skin. 

Elain, swallowing, slid the earrings into place. 

“He likes you,” Feyre laughed, the sound like what he imagined falling stars to sound like as her son toddled to Lucien’s outstretched hands on unsteady, wobbling feet with his wings flared behind him in support. 

Lucien glanced up from the child with a small, indulging smile just before Nyx stepped into his arms and babbled something sounding like ‘up.’ Hefting the heir into his lap, he said, “He’s grown since I saw him last.” 

An obvious, clumsy statement so unlike him. Supposedly, he was an emissary. 

But he could feel the other end of that bond now as if it had conducted lightning, blazing in his chest like the fire crackling in his veins. She hadn’t even come downstairs yet – assuming, of course, that she had any such intention to grace him with her presence for the span of dinner. 

Nyx twisted a chubby fist in Lucien’s hair with a steady stream of gibberish and giggles to declare his joy at the sight. Feyre watched on fondly, hands folded in her lap in a portrait of grace and elegance. Not quite his friend anymore, but a High Lady. He looked away, unable to stand the sorrow in the pit of his stomach. 

“I imagine,” he said quietly as Nyx grew bored and slid from his knee to toddle over to his mother, “that you did not call for me just to catch up.” 

Her eyes flickered. Confirmation, then, of just about everything he suspected. “No. We did not.” 

Lucien nodded slowly. Would there ever be a time when Feyre wanted his presence as a friend, not a servant of Night? Perhaps not. Not unless the female upstairs ever changed her mind, a hope which he no longer held, though he still had not even tried to be with another. There was never any time to do so in the mortal lands, and even if he had a moment for leisure, no human woman would ever consider him. It was enough of a surprise that he was allowed to cross over into their lands at all. As for Night Court women, the proximity to his mate innately destroyed any desire for another. 

“Why don’t you tell me now, and spare us dinner?” 

“Now, little Lucien,” came Rhysand’s drawl from the door. “Have a bit of patience.” 

Lucien arched a brow. Did they intend to push him right towards Elain? With the shadowsinger occupied by a priestess – so he’d heard – the High Lord and Lady of Night might feel inclined to meddle. But there was no time to reply, not when he caught her scent. 

It was an intoxicating thing, better than any whisky, than any fine Autumn wine. 

She was a vision. 

A gown of dusty, rose pink outlining the gentle curves of her body, pushing her breasts up to kiss the pearls around her long, slender neck that called for his touch. Her face was rosy with sun exposure, a few gentle freckles dotting her skin and kissing the button nose that haunted his dreams, leading down to a full, sinful mouth. Her hair, not a single strand out of place, was left down to tumble over her exposed shoulders and back, beyond a small section pulled back to reveal— 

Oh, gods. 

Pearl earrings. 

But she was staring at him with those lovely eyes so impossibly wide, her hands trembling even as she fisted them in the skirt of her dress. So he refrained from any hope, not entirely sure he was capable of such a thing, and bowed deeply. 

“Lady.” 

She swallowed audibly when he took her hand. When he dared to brush his mouth against her knuckles. The warmth of her skin was a brand. 

“Lucien.” 

He was going to die here, at her touch, at the barest whisper of breath from her mouth. 

Rhys grinned like a cat with a canary. 

“Dinner,” he crooned, “is served.” 

 From the day the Cauldron took her, Elain found herself plagued by a constant cacophony of noise – the wind, the faint rustling of clothes with every minute adjustment, the beating of a heart. Yet all she heard now was the scrape of utensils against plates, even as hers remained still in her hand. 

Her plate untouched, her wine the same, she glanced longingly towards the liquor cabinet. Rhysand still did not deign to explain Lucien’s presence here, and while she could not say that she had any desire to be near the male, she could sympathize with his plight, his bronze skin leeched with every passing minute. 

“Rhysand,” he gritted out, the fire in the grate leaping, “would you care to explain?” 

The High Lord glanced up from his roast duck. The easy smile that had brightened his face as his son proudly displayed the stuffed monkey Cassian bought for him faded, a large hand reaching up to smooth Nyx’s downy hair. “I’d intended to discuss this in my office, but if you’re so eager. . .” 

“I am.” 

Rhysand nodded, rolling his wine over his tongue. Elain glanced to her sister with hardly concealed panic only to find Feyre’s blue-gray eyes resting on Lucien with something unsure and hesitant roiling in them, her hand shaking over her utensils. 

Rhys noticed, as he always did, ever attentive, and slid his hand over Feyre’s at the same moment he said quietly, “At the High Lord’s meeting, just before the war. . .” 

The High Lord of Night was still speaking, still explaining, when a gentle talon scraped at the walls he himself taught her to construct. He could have torn into her mind himself, but waited for her to clumsily lower the walls to enter into the antechamber. 

Take Nyx into the garden. 

Elain blinked, and knew he felt her confusion and her fright as her hands trembled in her lap, but she took her nephew from the High Lord and slipped out quickly on silent feet, hurrying towards the door just as Lucien breathed, “What are you saying?” 

She shut the door with a shuddering bang. 

Nyx’s wings flapped hastily at his back as he wriggled in her hold, mumbling something or another about ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ and ‘no,’ the latter of which did not necessarily mean he was disinclined to visit the garden. It just so happened to be his favorite word as of late. She set him down barefooted in the upturned dirt near her latest plot, breathing hard through her mouth. 

The cool air blowing off the Sidra’s misty waters was a balm that cooled the sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She could still feel the burning of his gaze, the way his metal eye focused on her and contracted as if seeing something of interest. The thread between her tightened sharply, and she hissed, clapping a hand to her side. 

Red-hot, straining, a flash of light behind her eyelids— 

The temperature flared. Cooled. 

Nyx chirped happily from his spot in the dirt, presenting a cropping of daisies to his monkey. Feyre had tied a pretty red ribbon around the stuffed animal’s neck to match Cassian’s siphons when Nyx had missed his uncle one night, crying and crying as the General said his goodbyes before leaving for the House of Wind. Only when Feyre tied the ribbon and said it meant Cassian would never really leave him did Nyx’s tears calm and his grip on Cassian’s pant leg loosen. The General had been rather distraught. 

Elain rubbed at her chest, the pearls around her neck now painfully warm. 

The front door opened and shut with painful gentleness. Bourbon touched her nose, and Lucien rounded the house to stand a distance from her, closer to the street than the garden, but the full weight of his attention fell upon her shoulders. Russet bored a blazing hole into her skull and drilled right down to the thrumming golden thread between them. 

“Did you know, Lady?” 

Elain raised her chin at the accusation, even as the somberness, the confusion, of his tone weakened her knees. “Know what?” 

Emotion she did not often see from the emissary wobbled his mouth, tightened his fists. “Please.” 

“Whatever it is, Lucien, I don’t. . . I don’t think I knew.” 

His nod was slow, unsure. He dared a step to her and stumbled, but she smelled no alcohol on him, only fear and agony. His tongue pushed against his cheek as salt stung her nose. “I. . . Do you find, Lady, that who you thought you were differs entirely from who you are?” 

She inched forward, doubting Lucien to be capable of moving much more unless that movement involved collapsing, until she was closer than she ever had been but not so close that she strained to meet his eye. “I would imagine I know such a thought better than most.” 

Swallowing audibly, his hand lifted and dropped just as quickly. So fast, so fleeting she doubted she might have caught the movement had the bond not urged her to watch him so carefully, his eye dipped to the pearl earrings and flared. “So you do.” He heaved a breath, so pale and so green she thought he might vomit over his shoes. “I am going to Day,” he said, and it sounded less like it was to tell her of his whereabouts and more to tell someone, anyone, of the painful occurrences in his long life. “There is something – a bond, or a spell, or something that I cannot –” 

She’d never heard him pause, stumble in his words. His head twisted away from her as if he thought the same and found shame in it. His hands shook so violently that she moved before she could stop herself. 

Warm and dry, callused but comforting. She held his hand in both of hers and ran a finger down the tendon from his index finger to his wrist, his breath shuddering in his ear. Now having to raise her head to meet his russet eye, no longer feeling that burning drill but a gentle warmth as she found it misted over, clouded, she murmured, “I would join you in Day, if you like. For company.” 

The corners of his full mouth tightened. “You offer purely as a courtesy, Lady.” 

Elain disagreed and, searching her heart, meant it. A gentle, curious brush against the bond came along to meet her, Lucien’s eye searching her’s as he tugged again. 

Pulling in return, she asked, “When do you leave?” 

“Rhysand,” he said with a wary glance to the curtained windows forty feet away, “is writing to the High Lord of Day himself. I have. . . a message for him of importance and I intend to leave tomorrow morning, if my entrance is granted.” 

“A short trip, then?” 

“Perhaps yes, perhaps not.” Lucien shrugged, the movement stiff and forced. His hand twitched and turned over to clasp her fingers in his. He squeezed once. “If you are determined to join me, Lady, I would not refuse you.” 

Careful not to offer his opinion, not wanting to push her. She nodded. “I am quite determined.” 

He nodded almost reverently. She supposed he would be rather disbelieving after so many years of rejection on her part, and imagined Rhysand and Feyre might feel the same, imagined she should likely think a moment longer on this, yet she found no flicker of hesitance in her bones when he said, “I will return for you in the morning, then.” 

Another shuddering, trembling breath, and he bent his head to their joined hands and brushed his lips to her skin. 

A ghost of a kiss, yet she would have given anything to feel it again. 

“Good night, Lady.” 

“Elain,” she rushed, tightening her grip on Lucien as she felt him pull back against her. He blinked, metal eye spinning wildly, as she slowed her words and murmured quietly while a flush crawled up her chest, “Call me Elain, Lucien.” 

“Good night, Elain.” 

[azrielsfavoriteshadow]

E/lriels keep forgetting that Feyre is a Rhysand x Lucien shipper too. She gave them a ship name with her painting: “Clever Fox stares down Winged Death” 🥰

Clever Fox & Winged Death 4ever 💕🫶💕

[bonecarversbestie]

Some of my goofier Elucien headcanons:

Elain fakes visions, Lucien plays along with her gags 

Lucien lights a candle with his fingers and then sticks his finger in water and it goes tssss

Elain and Lucien eavesdrop on private conversations all day and have the juiciest gossip sessions over dinner

Lucien dyson air wraps Elain’s hair with his bare hands

Another hair related one: Elain uses Lucien’s shampoo without asking and he pretends to be mad(but he can’t stay mad at that face)

[animezinglife]

Everyone understandably wants SJM to show not tell when it comes to the "fire" in Lucien's blood (myself included), but what I want to see every bit as much is Elain thoroughly enjoying her relationship with him so much she's borderline drunk on it.

Elain not having a single reservation about taking the reins and letting him know when she wants him.

Elain lightheaded and spent and giggly waking up next to him in the morning but also feeling entirely safe and serene.

Their "frenzy" stage being worse meaning better than anyone else's because of the amount of energy they have pent up. Elain being worse about it than him and completely wearing him out to the point he's almost laughing. Feyre realizing the time that phase has lasted between them and internally asking Rhys if that's normal. Rhys laughing and telling her no (before, naturally, suggesting they give that duration a try themselves).

The two of them trying to be subtle, slick, and polite about the time they've had together when they finally re-emerge into society and it still hitting everyone like a ton of bricks to the point the sisters are fighting back laughter (and pride).

Lucien's control being as impressive and sexy as usual when Cass and Rhys goad him about it. Elain feeling him tense beside her but her giving his arm a gentle squeeze being enough to deter him.

The entire room feeling like a giant third wheel around them and Nesta making a crack to Feyre about "understanding how she felt" now being around her and Rhys. Feyre jabbing right back with how it felt being in the room with Nesta and Cassian.

Elain still seeming a little shy around others about her relationship with Lucien, but slowly loosening up and leaning against him, hugging him, beaming when he kisses her hair, and even after a drink or two, curling up in his lap in an armchair near the fire.

Lucien doing the hottest things as usual like taking her coat/cloak when they come in from outside, getting it for her and helping her into it when they leave, etc.

Feyre and Nesta having a shared understanding and mutual happiness for Elain that she's found not just her mate, but her soulmate.

[elucienweekofficial]

💕 Are you as desperate for sunshine and summer as much as we are? Happy Valentines Day pals! We'll see you all in July 🥰💕

-

🎨: @laxibbeb

[velidewrites]

Sarah J Maas Couples for @sjmromanceweek

➴ ELAIN ARCHERON & LUCIEN VANSERRA

“You could come to Velaris.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

[achaotichuman]

You ATE with that elain and rhys drabble. MORE GIVE US MOREEEE!

Okay okay!

Due to popular demand, I am writing more about Elain. People have been asking me to write Lucien and Elucien fluff for months now as well, so here is the thing I made.

I hope y'all enjoy!

Struggling with the dough underneath her hands, it had turned tough and difficult to move. Tiny fingers stubbornly trying to make it work, small hands picking up the mixture and letting it drop into the floured pan. It did not fill the bread tin like the dough of the chefs did. Elain puffed out her rosy cheeks, confused and frustrated. Wiping sweat off her brow, smearing flour across her forehead. She stared with teary eyes at her failed attempt of making bread. 

“Daffodil, what is wrong?” A warm voice asked from behind her. Elain sniffled as she looked up at her father. Still towering above her even as she stood on her tip toes on the stool she had been given to reach the workbench. 

“It’s not right.” She muttered, as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. The little girl wrapped her dough sticky fingers around her father’s waist and pressed her face into his side. Not wanting to look at her failure. 

“I never want to cook again!” She declared, “Ever, ever, ever.”

A large hand stroked her soft curls, his other hand wrapping around her and pulling Elain close. 

“There, there, my dear.” He murmured, before carefully untangling Elain from him and kneeling on the floor before her. She looked at him with a tear stained face, sniffing as she tried not to cry. She had been working all afternoon and all her efforts were wasted. 

Taking her hands, her father stroked the back of her palms, “Some things aren’t not right, they aren’t broken or ruined. They just take time to work.”

“What does that mean?” Elain cried, unable to understand why every other working cook could make a perfect loaf of bread but not her. 

“Come here, daffodil.” He said, picking up Elain and holding her close. She pressed her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, sticking close to her father as tears kept flooding from her eyes. 

“Let’s leave this for a little while.” He said, “We’ll come back to check it soon.”

Not protesting, Elain went with her father. 

He took her out to the gardens. Spending hours with her, until the sun began to become nothing more than rays of orange and pink blending into a dusky scene. In amongst the dandelion puffs and green long grass. She forgot all about the bread, turning tears to happy smiles and laughter as she carefully plucked a dandelion from the ground. 

“They say,” Her father began, sitting in amongst the grass with her, “That when a babe first laughs, a fairy is born from a dandelion puff.”

Elain’s brown eyes went wide with wonder, “When I first laughed a fairy was born?”

He smiled kindly, ���Indeed, daffodil.”

Elain giggled as she laughed onto the dandelion and quickly blew on it, causing the seeds to spread up and away into the sky.

“Was a fairy born then?!” She smiled brightly at her father. 

He closed his eyes as he tried to muffle his laughter with the back of his hand, “Yes, daffodil. A fairy was born.”

Elain spent the rest of the evening picking dandelions and laughing onto the puffs. Before blowing them up into the sky, watching as the white fluffy tips disappeared with the wind. Whisked away to wherever it was that fairy babes were taken. 

As night fell and a blanket of silver stars blinked down upon the earth. Her father swept her up in his arms, saying, “Time to go inside.”

Elain hugged him tightly, whispering about all the fairies born today. Wondering what they would do now, where they went. Asking if it were true that Fairies lived in mushrooms and on lily pads or if that was just something Nesta made up to tease her. Her father responded in kind with roaring laughter. 

They did not go to the dining hall like Elain expected as the hour for supper rapidly approached. Rather they trode down into the kitchens. 

As Elain passed the threshold, she asked, “Why are we in the kitchen?”

Her father simply placed her back on the stool she had been at for the majority of the day. Then he looked down at the bread tin her dough had been left in. 

Elain looked down, sadness washing through her as she remembered her failed attempt at baking. 

Then her eyes went wide as she gasped excitedly. Quickly grabbing onto her father’s sleeve, “Look! It filled the tin!” 

The dough had enlarged, filling the bread tin until it was the perfect size. 

“Indeed,” Her father said, patting the top of her head, “Sometimes things that seem ruined or broken just need some time. That’s why waiting is important.”

Elain smiled brightly, young and unknowing, the lesson and it’s meaning slipped past her. But she quickly hurried her father to put the bread into the oven. 

Her bread was served with supper that night. Elain sat next to her father as the Lords around them praised her new found ability. Elain just looked to her father who took the most of the bread and praised her the most. 

“Wait Lucien!” The door of the River House was smooth and polished beneath her fingers as Elain quickly ripped through the threshold to keep it from closing on her. 

Red hair whipped in the autumn wind. The scent of smoke, maple and sweet spices filled her. Not just from the air of the changing season, but from the male standing before her. Stopped in his tracks by her voice.

Long scarlet strands waved like a banner behind his head, as the sun set behind him, the fading light of day making dark skin glow in the dusky scene. His midnight blue scarf was wrapped snugly around his long neck. Jacket tightly hugging his frame. 

Elain swallowed hard, one hand grabbing onto her bare shoulder. She wore just a woollen plaid skirt, and a white top with short-sleeve straps. The frigid air causing her skin to prickle. Lucien stared at her, face carefully blank, but even through the emotionless mask, Elain could see the amber turning in his good eye, like swirling maple bourbon. The other golden-eye clicking softly in the silence as he watched her. 

“I…” The words were choked in her throat, the strings of her heart wrapping so tightly around each other she felt like if anyone looked into her ribcage they would see nothing more than a knot. 

“Is there something you need from me, Lady Archeron.” Lucien murmured softly, his voice like warm sunlight on a windy autumn’s day. Like a crackling fireplace in the winter, or sugar on pancakes on a cold morning. Everything warm and comforting. Everything that called for her, his name drifted in the air, her tongue wished to say it. Like a childhood lullabye she knew better than any other song. 

“I wanted to… I wanted to give you, um gift you…” Internally a battle waged, the smaller girl with everything to lose and a life she formerly wanted to live was saying this was broken, this was ruined, she was ruined. This was all wrong. 

And the rest of her, someone new, someone she didn’t know, but still felt and understood the same, urged her to continue. 

Elain had never stumbled on her words, it was something she would have been pinched, flicked, hit and chastised for by her mother. Priding herself on smooth talking skills, and an easy way of bringing people to her side, but now… now she didn’t know what to say. 

So, she said nothing. Forcing her body to move, she reached into the pocket of her skirts and pulled out a small wrapped gift. The crinkling brown paper tied together by a simple piece of twine, long and rectangular in shape. It was nothing elaborate or expensive like the gifts Elain noticed Feyre and Rhysand exchanging, and as she shoved it out in front of her, staring at the ground, not able to meet his eyes, she wondered if she should have spent more on this. 

“For you.” She muttered as her face grew hotter and hotter with every passing second. 

“For me?” Lucien asked, his voice utterly breathless, confused. 

“Yes.” Elain thanked the stars and Mother that they were alone or else Lucien would not have even heard her words. 

There was a beat of silence and Elain’s heart pounded so quickly behind her ribs. Like a rabbit trapped in a cage. 

Is this what Lords feel like when they court their lovers? She wondered. 

No, not all Lords. Greyson had been full of self-assured confidence, laughing with his friends as he whistled her over and asked to gift her a field of wildflowers. 

At the time she had been flustered, embarrassed and giggling. Now, looking back on it, how she must have looked to her friends and family. Called over like that. 

Her arms were shaking now, the small blink of time where nothing happened lasted several eternities, she was certain of it. 

Part of her started to think of retracting the gift. Or perhaps throwing it at Lucien and running for her life. But she was put out of her misery as calloused fingers brushed her own. 

Elain’s heart stopped in her chest, jumping around as it skipped beats, like someone tripping over themselves again and again. The bond snapped and sung at the contact, pulling the knot in her chest tighter and tighter, till it hurt to breathe. 

But as quickly as the touch lasted it was gone, as the gift slipped away from Elain’s fingers. She let out a breath, as longing to reach out slammed into her, tall crashing waves brought down onto her body. She lifted her eyes and saw Lucien, staring in wonder at the small gift in his hands. 

Quickly her hands were by her side once more. Staring at Lucien who looked in pure awe at the sight. Turning the package over in hands again and again, brushing his fingers down the sides of the string, Elain felt like screaming. Would he open it or not? She didn’t know if she even wanted to see his reaction. 

But finally, Lucien quickly looked up, straightening his back, snapping from the awe, “Thank you, Lady, thank you very much.”

“No need.” Elain murmured, “It is long overdue. You always get me a gift for solstice and I… don’t.”

Lucien blinked, before he smiled slightly, looking back down at the gift in his hands, “I never expect anything in return for those.”

“I know but I…” Elain lost her words, as she stared at Lucien’s finger fiddling with the twine, “I still wanted to get you something.”

Those words alone seemed to strike Lucien, he looked at her again. Eyes briefly widening before his features smoothed out. Elain clutched her arm once more, the temperature dropping as the stars became clearer in the ever-darkening sky. 

Carefully, treating the package like it was the most fragile thing in the world, Lucien untied the knot at the base of the twine, unravelling the thread, then unfolding the parchment paper. 

It revealed a thin red velvet box. Lucien looked up at her, and Elain looked down, unable to look him in the eyes. Unable to stare at the burning amber, it was too warm, too hot, overtaking her. The burning that spread through her chest and up to her head was dizzying. 

Lucien opened the box, and a quick gasp escaped him. Elain’s eyes snapped up immediately, needing to see what the reaction was. Fear coursed through her, battling the strings that tied around her heart. 

“This is…” Lucien pulled it from where it nestled in the fabric of the box, and Elain shifted on her feet, suddenly conscious of everything about herself. Second-guessing whether this was the rest decision.

Lucien held it in his hands, the long thin bookmark. With a golden knotted thread hanging from the top, the resin was clear with dried flowers and petals frozen inside. He stared at it in wonder, then looked back at Elain, who scrambled to explain. 

“I know you like to read.” She said, “And… Nesta does too, she hates when she doesn’t have a bookmark and has to fold over the corner of her page to mark her spot. I thought this way you… never have to do that.”

Elain really felt like bolting back into the house now, she thought it might be out of needing to get away from the male before her, but instead, she found it was because her skin was burning as she waited for his reaction. Waited to see if he liked it. 

Feeling like a little girl outside the door of the boy who she had taken a liking to, Elain rubbed her thumb over her cold skin. It was torture the slow seconds that passed, each of them etching themselves into her mind, never to be forgotten. 

But none of those seconds mattered nearly as much, as a bright voice, as warm and shining as the sun said, “Thank you.”

Elain looked up through her eyelashes, and nearly stumbled despite standing still. 

Lucien was glowing with his joy. Eyes bright and a smile tugging endlessly on his lips, his face radiating the happiness emitting off of him as he flipped the bookmark over in his gentle hands. Examining every inch of it. 

“Thank you so much, Lady.” He murmured. 

“Elain.” She said quickly, Lucien looked back up from the bookmark to see her eyes. Elain swallowed and said, “Just Elain, just call me Elain.”

He blinked a few times, then the smile that continued to try and force it’s way out made it. Breaking on his plush lips and fully showing that joy in him. Echoing down the bond like liquid sunshine, like some kind of drug that poured into her veins. Filling her to the brim. Overflowing, forcing a smile to her own face, one no matter how much she tried she could not keep down. 

“Thank you, Elain.” He repeated, “Thank you.”

Elain’s body shuddered. Shivering not from the cold anymore, but from the full body heat washing over her again and again and again. It did not go unnoticed by the male before her. He quickly noticed her shivering, but instead of understanding what caused it, he quickly pocketed the bookmark and shrugged off his thick warm coat. 

“It’s too cold out here for you not to have this.” Lucien said as he draped his coat over her shoulders. Elain tried to push it back. 

“No, I’m just going inside, you’re the one who is leaving-”

“Nonsense. You take it.” Lucien said, with that stupidly, stupidly handsome smile on his glowing face. 

Elain could barely argue as she stared at him. In the end, she pulled the jacket tighter, breathing in the warm scent of autumn weather and sunshine. It surrounded her entirely, a place of warmth, stolen away from the chilled air. 

Lucien slipped his hands into his pockets as he stepped back, “Thank you again, La- Elain.”

Elain shook her head, curls bouncing around her face, “It was no trouble.”

He smiled again, a boyish grin that made Elain’s stomach flutter. 

“Have a good evening, Elain.” Lucien murmured, as bowed his head and turned towards the path that winded out of the River House. 

“You as well, Lucien.” She whispered to the space he once was. Clutching his coat with both her hands she watched until he was past the line of houses, and completely out of sight. Before she closed her eyes, and bit down on her lip to contain the shriek of joy that fought out of her throat. Laughing she fell against the nearest wall and slid to the floor, giggling into the coat over her and breathing in the scent left on it. 

It had taken so long to get to this point. But Elain thought back on the first day she ever tried to bake something. She remembered the lesson her father had spoken of. 

Sometimes things take time. Sometimes you just have to be patient. 

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXXI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: ‼️ Hello lovely readers!!! So sorry that this chapter is way shorter than usual, but I did want to share to those following along that I will be taking a break from this story <3 It is NOT abandoned, but my excitement for it has waned over the last little bit. When inspiration strikes, I’ll be back :) Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, my appreciation is endless <3 ‼️

A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds / @lady-of-tearshed / @what-about-elvenis / @gameafoot /

A bird called out, like a clap of thunder, before silence fell over the large and open meadow. 

The sun continued to rise. Warm rays filtered through the leaves of the oak trees at the forest’s edge, creating an ever moving pattern along the already swaying grass. 

The bright and lovely wildflowers glimmered in the morning’s first light, each delicate dewdrop decorating the petals a shimmering diamond. 

The dirt beneath the emerald sheet of grass shifted as hands cleaned of all their skin reached for the sky. Joints held together by a power older than Prythian, thin fingers of bone cut through the earth. 

Like drowning sailors kicking up from the ocean’s depths after a shipwreck, more and more hands crashed through the surface. 

A spring wind blew gently, carrying the faintest scent of rot. 

The dead broke free of their graves, and had each skull possessed eyes, they would have opened.