#elain archeron x lucien vanserra

[clockwork-ashes]

Shake the Frost - Part II

Read on Ao3

Summary: Elain’s visions lead her to the human lands where she seeks answers from the one male she’s been avoiding—Lucien. As the two of them work together, the walls built between them begin to crumble.

Note: this is for the lovely @zenkindoflove for this year’s @acotargiftexchange <3 a HUGE thank you to those organising the event, i had the most fun!!!

Elain POV 

Elain stared at the paper in front of her, the pen hovering over the blank sheet until a drop of ink fell and scattered onto it. 

Blood dripping onto a fresh blanket of snow. 

“Lovely,” Elain muttered, setting the pen aside and crumpling up the ruined paper. She wasn’t able to focus on the task at hand, despite her efforts the last few days. It had been a week since she’d left the Night Court, and every letter she had penned had been filled with more of the same vague reassurances. 

Everything is fine. 

I’m just taking some time for myself. 

Don’t worry, and I’ll be back soon.

The words had all felt hollow when she’d read them out loud, and each of the letters she had written and signed had all been promptly tossed into the fireplace in the sitting room. 

Elain sighed, rubbing her eyes as the latest of her visions crept up on her, sharp and unwelcome. It was the same one she had shown to her mate when she’d first arrived at the manor, flashing in her mind like the briefest glimpse of a shooting star. 

Eris Vanserra, handsome in a cloak made of the finest silk, a crown of flames adorning his scarlet hair. 

Lucien handed a dagger to his brother, one made of Illyrian steel, blood on the silver edge. 

Ravens scattered into the air, their wings black against the grey sky. The cold scent of copper filled the air, mingling with the scent of something burning…

Elain gripped the edge of the table, forcing the vision out of her mind much easier than she had expected. She knew she couldn’t ignore the message it was trying to send, but she was glad all the same when she was once again simply staring at the kitchen tiles. It usually took a lot more of her energy, fighting the constant flood of images that pressed against her consciousness, but being near Lucien seemed to make it better. 

At first, Elain had thought it was mere coincidence, but after laying awake in the evenings only to sleep dreamlessly for seven nights, even she couldn’t deny there was a bit of magic to the bond between them. Lucien’s presence was like a quiet balm against the chaos, anchoring her in reality and pulling her out of any spiraling visions. While it still wasn’t enough to stop them entirely, the effects of the mating bond has not gone unnoticed by her. 

Elain tapped her short nails onto the wood of the table, looking at the remaining blank sheet of paper and the discarded pen she had borrowed from Jurian. With an exaggerated sigh, Elain slumped in her chair, defeated. 

She had started writing to Feyre, and every word had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Performative and insincere, she couldn’t find a way to explain her actions in a way that wouldn’t make them all worry about her.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor interrupted her thoughts, and Elain straightened in her own seat. She glanced up to see Vassa, the sharp heels of her booted feet loud as she settled next to her. The other woman paused, one brow raised, her face a near impossible mixture of curiosity and disinterest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice steady. 

While there was no concern lining the words, Elain could admit that there was also no judgment. She let out a heavy breath, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Everything,” she mumbled, exasperated. She combed her hands through her tangled curls, a small, frustrated noise escaping her lips.

Vassa clicked her tongue, a sound that almost made Elain smile. There was a teasing edge to it, the kind that could easily break through the weight of Elain’s frustration. “Are you always this dramatic?” Vassa asked, her dark eyes glinting with amusement, her question a friendly challenge. 

Elain laughed weakly, shaking her head. “If I write to my sisters, they’ll tell me to come back.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She knew Feyre and Nesta would demand she return to them, back to the safety of their circle, back to the comfort of Velaris. While they might be willing to help, Elain was certain they would also be the first voices telling her to stay behind. 

Sometimes, Elain had to remind herself that her sisters behaved that way only because they cared. 

Vassa tilted her head, her expression shifting to something far more curious. She scrunched her nose, clearly considering Elain’s words. “You don’t have to, though,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who was used to giving orders instead of following them. “You can do as you like.”

Elain gave her a small, rueful smile. “I’m guessing you don’t have sisters?” she asked, her tone playful. She was surprised at how easy liking the human queen was. 

Vassa snorted in response, the sound louder than Elain had expected from someone of her status. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t be obligated to listen to them.”

Elain laughed quietly at that, the sound lighter than it had been in days. The simple words made her feel a little less alone, a little more understood. Vassa was right, of course, and Elain didn’t necessarily owe anyone explanations. 

“You don’t have to listen to me.” Vassa’s expression softened as she stood up slowly, tucking her chair in gently, giving Elain some space. “But the Cauldron gave you a very powerful ability, and I think that means something. And I think your sisters should trust you,” she said, her tone unexpectedly earnest.

Elain’s throat tightened at the reminder. She had considered being a Seer a curse for so long, a blessing and a burden. The Sight connected her to the world in ways that were both beautiful and terrible, and her visions could be lovely and vicious in equal measure. She frowned, her lips pulling downwards as she stared at her hands. 

Vassa didn’t wait for her to respond. With a soft shrug, she turned and left Elain alone at the table, her boots clicking daintily along the floors. Elain didn’t immediately return to her letter. She let the silence settle around her, the quiet that filled the space where Vassa had been. The weight of her words lingered in the air, like a promise.

Elain closed her eyes, the faint pull of the bond to Lucien humming in the background of her mind, soothing and grounding her. While it annoyed her slightly that a man was the cause, the reprieve it brought was enough for her to ignore the more bitter thoughts she usually had around the bond. 

When Lucien was near, it was as if she could finally breathe. 

No sooner had she relaxed, she felt the vaguest of chills along her spine. A vision creeped along her eyes, the kitchen disappearing from her sight. 

Blood scattered onto snow. 

Eris gripping a dagger, golden rings flashing. 

The gentle sound of whirring, a final click, before the dagger cut through flesh. 

Elain’s breath caught in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the image, but it clung to her, sharp. Blowing at a strand of hair, the world sharpened back into focus. 

Elain grabbed the pen again, her hand shaking just slightly. She trusted her sisters, and a part of her believed that they trusted her too. She scrawled across the paper, her hand moving swiftly, though the words were no less difficult to find despite her new found confidence. 

Nesta and Feyre… 

Elain paused, her mind swimming in a sea of visions, and she sighed, feeling the pressure of the words she was about to write.

I’m fine. I promise.

LUCIEN POV

Lucien’s fingers hovered over the chessboard, nudging a knight forward with a sly grin. “Check,” he said, leaning back in his chair, russet eye gleaming.

Jurian didn’t flinch, his face a mask of concentration as he moved his queen with quiet precision. “You’re getting better, but not that good,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed the board.

Lucien laughed, taking in the sight of the human general, wondering if he was still as sharp and quick-witted as he’d been on the battlefield centuries before. Their banter filled the room as the game continued, but it wasn’t long before a soft sound caught his attention, the light creak of the door opening.

Elain stepped into the room and his heart stuttered once in his chest. She had her cloak wrapped snugly around her shoulders, the dark fabric catching the flicker of light from the nearby hearth. The fire’s glow danced over her, but it was her presence that struck him the most. Her beauty was undeniable, and tonight, it seemed to have intensified. The dim moonlight filtering in through the arched windows made her eyes seem endless, there was a depth to them that pulled him in. She was staring directly at him, and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t look away.

“I’m going for a walk,” Elain announced, her voice quiet but resolute, a slight blush staining her cheekbones as she looked between him and Jurian.

Lucien’s gaze lingered on her, sensing the unspoken invitation in her words. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jurian cut in. Still looking at the board between them, he said, “Sounds lovely, I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs.” 

Elain’s lips parted, her blush deepening. The sight was both endearing and exasperating. She looked at Lucien, as if expecting him to speak and intervene on her behalf. She tugged at the bond between them, like a rough yank on a string tied to his rib. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat as he glared at his friend, golden eye clicking into place. 

Jurian raised a broad hand, a rook between his fingers. “I’m kidding,” he added with a grin. 

Elain laughed awkwardly, the sound a mix of relief and embarrassment. Lucien rolled his eyes, offering her a long-suffering look as he stood up, giving her a small smile. “Let me grab my coat.”

The moment stretched out, and without a word, Lucien stepped into the hall, pulling on his boots before he took hold of his jacket. He could feel Elain’s eyes on him as he shrugged on the dark wool coat, the familiar weight of it grounding him. He turned back to her, holding the door open, his chest tight with an emotion he didn’t want to name.

Elain stepped past him, her breath coming out in small clouds as she elegantly stepped down the stone stairs of the manor. The night was still, save for the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots. Lucien kept a glamour up, a faint shimmer around them to let her know he had done so. 

There was a part of Lucien that was glad they would remain hidden from view, a feeling that was as though the world beyond the spell didn’t exist.

The air was crisp and cold, the faintest touch of winter biting at his skin no matter how warm his blood ran. He kept his gaze ahead, but he could feel Elain’s presence close beside him, her steps matching his pace in the quiet of the night.

It was his mate who broke the silence, her voice soft, but the words still sharp with meaning. “Can you help me send a letter to the Night Court?”

Relief washed over him, knowing that the sooner Feyre and Rhysand knew where Elain was, the less trouble he would have explaining himself. 

“Who should I send it to?” Lucien asked, his voice steady, although his mind was already working through the necessary steps he would have to take to make her wish a reality. 

“Nesta,” Elain replied without hesitation. Her tone was firm, as if she had made her decision long before she had even asked for his help. “If you can get it to Nesta first, I’m sure she’ll show it to Feyre.”

Lucien nodded, understanding. He glanced at her, taking in the way she tucked a curl behind her pointed ear. The vision she had shared with him weighed heavily on his mind. He had tried not to dwell on the fact that she was able to show others what she saw, but he was very impressed that she had learned how to manipulate her magic without help from others. 

“If we can also send a letter to Autumn?” Elain’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Lucien furrowed his brow, the scarred side pulling uncomfortably as he glanced at her. “Who would you need to speak with in Autumn?” Even though he already knew the answer, he might as well hope that she’d change her mind. 

Elain looked up at him with her full lips pressed into a firm line. There was a silent challenge in her dark gaze, as if to say that he already knew the answer. 

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, holding back a small smile. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice soft and determined.

Elain took a slow, steadying breath, a perfect little cloud in the cold night. She grabbed his hand, a gentle tug, just enough to stop him in his tracks. She was wearing gloves, a barrier between them despite the contact. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes warm despite the chill in the air, and the moment felt as if time had stretched itself thin.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice low but sincere.

He felt a rush of warmth flood through him at her words. “Of course,” Lucien answered instinctively, before realizing how hollow the words might have sounded to her ears. 

Before he could say anything more, Elain surprised him again. She linked her fingers with his own, pulling him as a reminder to move so they could continue to walk. 

Elain didn’t let go of his hand, a ruby blush staining her cheeks. She held on tightly, and Lucien dragged his thumb across her knuckles, letting her lead. 

[bonecarversbestie]

[animezinglife]

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

[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

[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.

[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!

---

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 ;)

[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.

[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 💕🫶💕

[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]

Shake the Frost - Part I

Read on Ao3

Summary: Elain’s visions lead her to the human lands where she seeks answers from the one male she’s been avoiding—Lucien. As the two of them work together, the walls built between them begin to crumble.

Note: SURPRISE!!! this is for the lovely @zenkindoflove for this year’s @acotargiftexchange <3 i was so so so excited to get to write this for you, all of your works are simply amazing and it was such fun getting to know you a little better the last few weeks!!! thank you for answering my many (many) questions, and i hope you enjoy this!!!

Elain POV 

Drops of blood, like lovely ruby tears, were scattered along the pure white snow. They glimmered as if they were expensive jewels, an allure to each perfectly shaped one. The sun was bright, vicious as it reflected on the ground and danced as far as the eye could see. 

Elain shook her head with an annoyed sigh, loose curls bouncing around her shoulders. She couldn't move the pieces of hair without letting go of the gifts in her arms, so she blew up at the strands in a way that would seem practiced to any onlookers. 

A dagger, the hilt fashioned from gold and expertly crafted to resemble a snake, was stained scarlet. The hand holding it had rings on each pale finger, no scars on the skin despite the comfortable way it gripped the weapon. 

“That is enough,” Elain mumbled, an order to herself in hopes that the visions would stop bleeding through her waking moments. The images no longer haunted her, but they were still a type of nuisance, like summer gnats, flickering in the corners of her thoughts. 

If she focused, Elain hoped to avoid the most gruesome of her repeating visions. Always, like clockwork, she would witness Beron Vanserra’s death. It was bloody and cruel, never peaceful, even if the way it was done had not yet been decided by fate, the result remained the same. The High Lord of the Autumn Court would die, marked by endless crimson that stained the earth beneath him. 

She had thought them nothing more than a figment of her unsettled mind, especially when at first they had slowly and steadily filtered into her dreams. When they had leaked into her everyday life, when she had begun seeing Lucien’s face among the bloodied chaos, she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands. Elain knew from the war with Hybern that trying to bury and ignore her visions wouldn’t work, and neither would trying to hide her fear and confusion. 

She had tried to tell Feyre once, but hadn’t been able to go through with it. Her sister was finally happy. Nyx was old enough to enjoy the Winter Solstice celebrations, and Feyre had been busy planning for weeks. It seemed unfair, and Elain could admit only to herself that she was using it as an excuse not to share her worries with anyone at all.

Still, the visions wouldn’t let her go. They gripped her, cold and unrelenting, forcing her to face countless versions of the future when she least expected it. Nesta would have asked too many questions, ones that Elain would be unwilling to answer, and so she had turned to Nuala and Cerridwen for help. She had asked the twins to take her to the human lands, and had begged them not to tell anyone just yet. Elain was thrilled when they simply told her she had to be careful, agreeing to bring her directly to the place that Lucien called home. 

Elain stood at the doorstep of the manor, right where Nuala and Cerrdiwen had left her. The evening frost bit at her skin, her arms heavy with the weight of her offerings, small gifts she had taken with her knowing it would be a slight to come empty-handed. She could hear the soft ticking of the stopwatch she had bought for her mate despite the fact that it was nestled in a cushioned box. For the Queen of Scythia, she had brought Winter blooms from Velaris, delicate and white, their petals like soft whispers. She had struggled to find something nice for Jurian and had simply settled for a bottle of expensive wine. 

Her knuckles hovered at the door as she shifted on her feet, hesitation curling through her. She had seen the manor before, what almost seemed like another life, and yet now it felt unfamiliar. She finally knocked, the sound thunderous against the thick wood. 

There was not a single sound that followed, not even the careful tap of footsteps just beyond the entrance. Elain frowned wondering if perhaps no one was home. 

She balanced the gifts in her arms, blowing at the stray curls that had fallen over her eyes. She raised a gloved hand, ready to knock once more, when she heard the lock shift. She stepped back, watching as the door opened slowly, leaving only a crack of space for her to peak into the manor. 

At the flash of familiar copper hair, Elain plastered a smile onto her face. “Happy Solstice,” she said with false cheer, hoping that she covered her disappointment well. She wanted to speak with Lucien first, but she supposed she should be grateful that at least someone was there. 

Vassa looked surprised for the briefest of moments, using her frame to block Elain from entering. She raised an elegant eyebrow, her blue eyes midnight dark as she offered a judgmental glance over the three neatly wrapped parcels. “Who invited you?”

Elain maintained an unbothered air, pretending that Vassa was simply keeping the cold out. She lifted the presents, smiling a bit wider in an attempt to look kind and unthreatening. “I wanted to give Lucien his gift.”

Vassa’s gaze flicked to Elain’s face, where she took her in with an unreadable expression, a hesitation that stretched just a little too long. Then, with a motion too practiced to be casual, she opened the door wider, her gesture one of forced hospitality.

“Come in,” Vassa said, voice cool but not unkind. She waved her hand in the direction of the hall. “Lucien should be back in a bit.”

Elain stepped inside, her breath catching as she recognized the space. It was Graysen’s manor, but the weight of the years made it feel distant, almost like a place she had only heard about in stories. She had barely thought about him in the last few years, and was slightly annoyed at being reminded that he existed at all. 

She followed Vassa down the hall, her booted feet soft on the old wooden floor, the air thick with the scent of something she couldn’t place. Jurian was in the sitting room, bare feet up on a pink couch that was absurdly out of place when compared to the rest of the furniture in the large space. His gaze met hers, unsurprised, as though he had been expecting her arrival.

Jurian. 

The name had been whispered to her since childhood, stories of a human general that had fought for the freedom of her people. Sitting on that gaudy pink couch, he looked ordinary, Elain thought. He was just like any other man, a touch of a battle-weary edge to his face, but nothing of the myth she had imagined.

“Something to drink?” Jurian asked, his voice easy, inviting. He leaned forward, his manner so unaffected it took Elain by surprise.

Vassa did not speak, but Elain felt her eyes on her, assessing and distant, as though her very presence was an offence. The room seemed to thicken with unspoken words, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Elain could still hear the ticking of the stopwatch still in her hands, steady as heartbeat, knowing she was the only one among them who could catch the delicate sound with her ears. 

Elain cleared her throat, her voice coming out smaller than she had intended. “Maybe some tea?” It was not just the awkwardness of the moment that made her throat tight, but also the unmistakable scent of her mate that lingered.

He was everywhere.

On the cushions of the couch, on the fabrics of the curtains, in the very air. It clung to the room like a shadow, a reminder that he lived in this space. Elain scrunched her nose when she was struck with the sudden urge to curl up into the pillows and bury her face into the cushions just to take it in. 

Jurian invited her to sit, gesturing with his hand to leave the gifts aside. Vassa sat as well, eyes watching her every move, as they all waited for Lucien. Time crawled by slowly, and Elain could feel the weight of the room pressing down on her. 

Elain had come in search of answers, and she knew that her exiled mate would have the information she needed. Jurian brought her tea, the night stretched on, and Elain knew with a deep certainty that it would be a long one. 

Lucien POV

The shift of the seasons pulled at Lucien in ways that were nearly painful as he crossed into the human lands, winnowing in one final jump beyond Prythian’s border.

Lucien was always left feeling a bit empty when he returned from his visits to Spring. His thoughts always lingered on the broken remnants of what once was, a court that had once been his home. Tamlin, at least, had seemed happy that he had stopped by. 

Lucien made sure he had a glamour in place as he walked through the quiet village, ensuring none of the human eyes saw anything more than a stranger passing through. They were all weary around him, casting him with careful glares whenever he passed. The streets, though, were empty, the silence eerie as everyone stayed indoors to celebrate the solstice with loved ones. 

He was nearing the manor, his senses piqued by something, a subtle tug that pulled his chest tight, a connection that only his mate could cause. 

Elain. 

The bond thrummed under his rib, constant and steady, like the flow of a river. Lucien rubbed a hand over his chest, frowning slightly. He had not gone to Velaris this year, not even after Feyre had sent her invitation. Perhaps it had been rude of him, but he’d simply written a note, promising to visit soon. It had been easier, after all, to remain distant, he thought. 

Lucien noticed the boot marks still left in the snow leading up the manor, and he felt a chill crawl up his spine. The footprints were small, the pattern of the sole not ones he recognised as belonging to Vassa. Using a simple spell, he unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold and into the foyer. The bond flared to life with sharp awareness, drawing him towards her. It was as though his body had learned to respond to her presence even without his permission. Elain was nearby, and he was helpless to ignore it, to deny the way his heart picked up its pace in response. 

The whole world seemed to tilt on its axis as he paused at the entrance of the sitting room. He was unable to tear his gaze from his mate, even though he knew Jurian and Vassa would be watching his reactions carefully. 

“Elain?” he said, more question than anything. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded rough, unsteady.

He heard the soft rattle of a teacup as she set it down on the table. Her back straightened, as if instinctively commanding the room around her, a queen in all but title. “You didn’t come to Velaris,” she said, her voice even, but Lucien heard the slight accusation buried beneath the calm.

He hadn’t expected her to notice, hadn’t thought she cared enough to even keep track of his comings and goings. It was a surprise, and he was unprepared for the sting it left.

She still avoided him, still turned away whenever he entered a room, her distance like a shield between them. He couldn't even blame her, but the ache of each dismissal settled heavy on his chest. Remembering his manners, he offered her the smallest of bows, “Apologies, lady.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Lucien’s heart did something strange, a flutter he couldn’t quite name. “No need to apologize,” she mumbled, ever polite. “It was just… I just noticed, that’s all.” She looked at him with an embarrassed tilt to her lips, her entire face having turned crimson. 

Vassa snorted then, a laugh that was sharp and unrefined, but somehow it didn’t feel entirely unwelcome. It cut the tension between him and his mate like a blade. 

“I needed to speak with you,” Elain said, her voice soft but deliberate. She glanced over his shoulder at Vassa and to Jurian who sat on the pink couch, a silent apology. “Alone, if that’s alright.”

While Lucien couldn’t see Vassa, Jurian merely raised his shoulders in a careless shrug. He motioned for Elain to follow him, taking his eyes from her as she grabbed onto her skirts and followed him to the porch that looked over the large courtyard. 

Lucien nodded. He motioned for her to lead the way, his mind already racing with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. They stepped outside, and though Elain kept her distance, it was still the closest they’d been since the battle with Hybern. Her breath misted in the cold air, floating around them like a little cloud. 

Beautiful. 

Elain Archeron was like something made of winter. Her hair was tucked behind her pointed ears and he could see the sharp cut of her jaw as she looked at the frozen gardens below. She reminded Lucien of snowflakes, lovely and fleeting, put out a hand to catch one and they disappear. 

The tip of Elain’s nose was stained a rosy pink, and he created a small bubble of warmth around them instinctively, watching as her posture relaxed, seeming much more comfortable in the harsh cold. 

Lucien broke the silence between them as she hugged her arms around her middle, suddenly looking more nervous. “Please tell me that Feyre and Rhysand know you’re here.” He knew the answer even before Elain winced and turned away from him. “Nesta?”

She shook her head, a small frown pulling at her lips. “My friends know. They brought me here.”

Lucien couldn’t help the sigh that fell from his lips, running a hand through his hair. He had half a mind to walk back into the manor and write to the Night Court about where she was, but something in her demeanor, something in her dark eyes, stopped him. He could feel the weight of her decision pressing on him, even if she hadn’t said the words yet. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but the truth tugged at him. He was going to be knee-deep in trouble if he kept her secret.

“Why?” he asked, his voice quieter now, gentler. “Why did you need to come here?”

Elain seemed to shrink into herself for a moment, her eyes fluttering closed as though she were steeling herself for something. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I see you in my dreams.”

Lucien froze, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t suppress the choked sound that nearly escaped him, couldn’t mask the shock that gripped him. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he felt unsteady, as though the ground beneath his feet were about to crack open.

Elain flushed under his gaze, her eyes quickly darting to the snow beneath her booted feet. “I mean... my dreams and my visions,” she corrected, a little embarrassed, as if the admission were something she hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

He didn’t know where she was going with this, but the quiet urgency in her voice made him hold his tongue, waiting for her to explain. He remained still and kept silent, offering her the space to share whatever was on her mind.

“No one listens to me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Not my sisters, not the rest of the Inner Circle... no one. I thought...” She bit her lip, her eyes flicking up to his. “I thought perhaps you would?”

Lucien was left speechless, his heart clenching with something he couldn’t quite name. She was asking him, of all people, to pay attention to her. There was a part of him, an ancient and primal part, that nearly overwhelmed his senses, but he nodded. “I’ll listen.”

Elain exhaled a soft breath, reaching out with her small hand. “And what if I ask you to see?” 

Without a word in response, Lucien put out his own hand, letting Elain grab onto him so that she could pull him a little closer. The bond between them flared to life, the bridge connecting their souls allowing Elain to show him something unexpected. What she saw burned into his mind, and Lucien was no longer sure where his mate’s dreams ended and reality began.

[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.

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Tempests and Urges

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

Chapter II of my gift for @stickyelectrons for the @acotargiftexchange! Thank you for your patience (the holidays were busy!) but I'm excited to share this next chapter with you! Wishing everyone a happy new year!

Read on AO3

XXX

II.

When Lucien rose that morning, never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined how the day would turn out: interrupted by Elain Archeron when he was seconds away from being sent to the Continent, and the same woman insisting on joining him on his quest to find the lost mortal queen. Secretly, when Elain announced her intentions and Nesta questioned if she had been placed under a spell, Lucien had the same thought as the eldest Archeron. But as Elain made her case to her sisters, her eyes had filled with the eerily familiar fight and stubbornness he’d seen countless times in Feyre’s eyes. Perhaps that was just an Archeron trait, he thought. 

Another apparent Archeron trait: sheer willpower. Lucien thought that this particular characteristic may have skipped over Elain, but as they came to at the base of a tremendous mountain range and Rhys vanished with a nod and a wisp of smoke, Elain simply took a look around at their surroundings then looked to Lucien with a determined look on her face. “So, which way?”

Lucien took out his map and showed Elain their approximate location. Montesere occupied the northwestern corner of the Continent, bordered by the sea on its northern and western shores, with rolling hills that grew to rocky mountains along its eastern edges. In an ideal world, they would be able to walk in a southeasterly direction to Koschei’s lake from their current location, without worrying about the Continent’s marauding thieves and criminals. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t be making this journey at all, Lucien thought, so any wishes for an easier route seemed a bit pointless. 

“How far are we from the western ports?” Elain asked, studying the map dotted with notes and diagrams. 

“About three days. There are some forests we can camp in each night.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

That was two days ago, and the pair hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since. Not that Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation. He asked Elain about her hobbies–”What else do you enjoy growing in your garden?” or “Do you enjoy dancing?” even “Any other interests?”—and all he received were one word answers or an unimpressed ‘hmph’ that even Lucien, master flirt and wordsmith that he was, didn’t know how to expand upon to further their conversations. Elain never asked him anything other than confirmation that they were on track to the port, so Lucien took the hint. 

Lucien thought he and Elain would finally discuss what tied them together. Clearly, Elain insisted on joining him for reasons other than being alone with him for an extended period of time, working together towards a common cause and getting to know each other.

Mates. Cauldron, even months after the bond snapped into place, Lucien was still winded by the knowledge that he had a mate. No, that perhaps didn’t surprise him; who his mate was, and wasn’t, was what he still couldn’t wrap his head around. 

He had thought it before and he thought it now: Jesminda was the exact opposite of Elain. Jesminda, full of life and laughter, fearless, confident and secure in herself and what she stood for. She always had a smile for Lucien, and matched his fire with her own unique warmth. 

Elain held no warmth or happiness for Lucien. Not that she needed any, he thought. She owed him nothing, even as his inner beast wanted to grab her shoulders, make her look at him, make her listen to him as he begged and pleaded his case for why he was a worthy male for her. 

Guilt over Jesminda and his newfound happiness at discovering his mate still warred within him. Much of Lucien’s time and thoughts since discovering the mating bond had been devoted to reconciling his feelings towards the female he had once loved so fiercely. 

He had moved on from Jesminda, or, as moved on as one could be after watching the female he thought was his mate murdered before his own eyes. He hadn’t been…unhappy, for some time, per se, but had been merely existing for the past several hundred years. Some decades were better than others, but Lucien had long ago lost the wonder and excitement that rising each day once brought him. Lucien had accepted Jesminda’s death and the inevitability that he would never know such love and happiness again.

But then Hybern happened. The Cauldron happened.

And now here, right in front of him, was the most breathtaking female he had ever seen. His heart called out to hers, even as his head cautioned him to slow down, to stop these dangerous and near traitorous thoughts. A small part of him still loved Jesminda, and most likely always would; was it wrong of him to one day move on, to want to feel the love and desire that he’d once had, but with someone else?

Did he even deserve this love? He had done so much wrong in his life, and for the Mother to still bless him with the most beautiful female he’d ever seen… 

“Will you stop sighing back there? Whatever it is you’re thinking about, you’re being more dramatic than Nesta when Feyre wouldn’t give her money for a new pair of shoes.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. They had formed an unspoken walking pattern: one ten feet in front of the other, never talking except for directions, and always looking ahead. At first it bothered him, but as Lucien began walking behind Elain, getting a generous view of her bottom and legs in the tight Illyrian leathers everyone in the Night Court insisted on wearing, he decided to keep his mouth shut. 

Not now, though. “I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who started a public family fight after you had barely spoken anything for weeks because you wanted to accompany me in finding this mortal queen. I’d love to know why exactly you’re here, by the way, because it clearly wasn’t to get to know me.” Lucien paused. “Why did Nesta need money from Feyre?”

Elain turned to face him, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “It’s really none of your business–”

“It seems you’ve forgotten I already know quite a bit about your family business, thanks to you.”

“But before, when we were humans, Feyre, er, hunted and supplied our family with most of our money,” Elain rushed out, looking back ahead. Lucien could have sworn she started walking faster as well. 

“Feyre said you all wouldn’t last a month after she came to the Spring Court, but I didn’t think she was being serious.” Lucien stuffed his hands in his pockets as best he could with his heavy pack on his back and raised a condescending eyebrow, despite the fact that Elain wasn’t looking at him. “So you willingly let Feyre hunt and starve herself to provide everything for your family?” 

Elain stopped and turned to face him, her face red, legs wide and clenched fists by her side. The stance of someone getting ready for a fight. “Right, because as the son of a High Lord, you know everything about doing any sort of hard work to survive?”

Lucien sneered. If Elain knew what being the son of Beron Vanserra truly entailed, she’d wipe that leer off her pink lips. Lucien could tell her of the times he’d been struck or hit for any perceived slight towards his father, or the time he’d been plied with liquor until he passed out and his father’s cronies winnowed his unconscious body to a desolate forest on the other side of Autumn Court with nothing on him except his clothes and a note, telling him to find his way back to the Forest House in time for dinner, all because Lucien had made a few too many jokes with a visiting nobleman. 

Lucien could easily have told Elain all this and more, and how each and every instance of cruelty and malice prepared Lucien for a hard life of doing anything to survive. But she wouldn’t be able to comprehend or truly understand what he’d gone through, how truly monstrous the fae were. Or perhaps worse, those big brown eyes of hers would fill with pity. 

He’d received enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime. Instead, Lucien took a step towards her. “I at least know how to fish, so I guess you could say I do. More than you, at least.”

“Wonderful,” Elain spat. “If anything should happen to us, we can call upon your supposedly superb ability to catch a fish to save us.”

“You forget I’m also a skilled warrior.” Another step closer to his mate. “In fact, I’m very comfortable with all manner of swords in different lengths,” he purred, raising a single eyebrow suggestively and smirking. 

Most females needed very little convincing to lay down and raise their skirts whenever Lucien used that tone of voice and moved his lips like that. The female in front of him, however, wasn’t like that, Lucien realized a second later.

Elain laughed mockingly. “Well, Feyre gave me a knife the size of my pinky–I’m assuming that’s the length you’re the most familiar with?”

Lucien frowned. “I know Feyre has an attitude, but I incorrectly assumed you were better than your younger sister in that regard.”

“I do not have an attitude!”

“Feyre also single-handedly saved all of Prythian while she was Under the Mountain, and is working tirelessly to save us all again, so I suppose the attitude is warranted,” Lucien said loudly, ignoring Elain.

“And you almost destroyed all of Prythian, and my life, when you allied with Hybern and turned me into…this, so I think my attitude is justified as well!” 

Lucien bit his tongue. He’d apologized for that, and deeply regretted not being more assertive with Tamlin when things with Hybern progressed, even when Lucien’s conscious screamed at him day after day that what they were doing was wrong, that nothing, not even Feyre, was worth betraying everyone and sullying themselves by allying with Hybern. The guaranteed abuse from Tamlin would have been preferable to what transpired. 

“As I said, Lady, I apologize,” Lucien gritted. “It was never my intention to cause you or anyone harm.”

Elain scoffed. “Is that the best apology you can make? I thought there would be more groveling from the male who took everything from me.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

This time it was Elain who took a step towards him. She planted her hands on her hips. “Would you even know what to do if you went on your knees before me?”

Cauldron help him. Maybe the Mother knew exactly what she was doing when she decided the two of them should be mates. The fire dancing in her eyes called out to his own warmth, and the blood pulsing through his body called out to her. He wondered if Elain could hear how fast his heart was beating at that moment, in sheer excitement and want. 

It had been some time since he’d wanted anyone this desperately.

Lucien took the final step towards Elain. He glanced down at her flushed face, his gaze lingering on her lips when her tongue peeked out to wet them. She was breathing fast, and her eyes looked slightly glazed. “I will gladly get on my knees–”

Elain gasped and her body went stiff. “The crow will strike with bloody wings,” she mumbled, staring at something over his shoulder. “Its children will turn the sky black as night.”

“Oh hell,” Lucien muttered as Elain swayed on the spot. He eyed her nervously as her hazy eyes continued staring off into the distance. This was obviously a vision, and like her previous ones, frustratingly vague and cryptic. “Elain?” he called softly after a few moments. 

Nothing. It was like she had fallen asleep standing up. Lucien snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Elain?” Still no response. He gave her a few more moments and looked around. There was nothing of interest behind him that she could be staring at. He sighed, unsure what to do. Would she simply…come to, on her own? Did she need to be forcefully brought back to the present?

Clearly, standing stock still in the middle of nowhere wasn’t conducive to breaking her out of her trance, so more immediate action needed to be taken. Tentatively, Lucien reached out and wrapped his hands gently around her upper arms and gave her just the smallest shake. “Elain?”

Cauldron, what was going on inside her mind that couldn’t be broken? “I hope you remember more about your vision than I do, because I wasn’t paying attention to the first part,” he grumbled. 

Enough of this–they had to keep moving, and if he had to be the one to move both of them, so be it. Lucien bent down below Elain to wrap his hands around her knees right as she gasped.

“What are you doing down there?! I wasn’t serious about you getting on your knees! Get away!”

“Ah, stop it!” Lucien threw up his arms to protect his face from Elain’s swinging hands. “You had a vision and were just standing there like a statue, I was going to carry you so we could keep moving! Stop trying to hit me!”

“I lose myself for a few seconds and you try to make a move on me! I thought you’d be more of a gentleman!” Elain stepped away from Lucien and smoothed her hands over her unruly hair and clothes, shooting him a suspicious glare. 

“Who told you I was a gentleman?”

Elain blushed, and Lucien decided he very much enjoyed how the color elevated her pretty face. “I just assumed, being the son of a High Lord, that you would have manners and courtesy becoming of your station.”

Lucien barked a laugh. “Fae nobility doesn’t operate under the same ideals of goodness as humans, Elain. Me being the son of a High Lord means nothing to me, and I am by no means a gentleman, as you will soon come to find out,” he promised, grinning at her with all his teeth exposed.

Elain inhaled sharply. “And I think,” Lucien continued, stepping back into her personal space, “that you don’t really want a gentleman, do you?”

From this close up, Lucien could smell her sweet honey and jasmine scent, along with an altogether new and entirely different scent. Faint, so faint, but the burgeoning scent of her excitement danced across his tongue. He nearly groaned. 

Lucien knew just enough about Elain’s former betrothed to get the measure of him: the son of a general from a safe, respectable, predictable family that probably considered organizing their vast weapons collection as the highlight of their year. Looking at Elain now, her breath quick and scent excited, Lucien knew she’d be permanently bored and miserable should she have married that mortal. No, Elain perhaps didn’t have the same fire as her sisters, but she was intense in her own ways and needed someone to challenge her all the same. She needed excitement. She needed an adventure.

It could certainly just be the mating bond riding them, making them feel this way, but he didn’t think it was just that. This close to her, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of anticipation and surprise in the way her eyes searched his face. Trust me, Lucien pleaded with his eyes. He reached out to their bond, the string connecting them, and slowly moved along it. Give me a chance…

She turned her nose up at him. “You’re wrong–I would very much appreciate a gentleman, someone kind and who doesn’t make untoward advances on me, specially right now.” Without another word, Elain turned around and began marching away, her boots stomping so hard into the ground small puffs of dirt arose with each step. 

He counted to ten in his head, feeling cold and frustrated in the aftermath of her rebuttal. “You’re going the wrong way!” Lucien called after her retreating form. 

Elain turned back and gave Lucien a glare filled with so much heat it could melt the icicles off the palace in the Winter Court. She stuck her middle finger up at him as she passed.

Another Archeron family trait. Lucien couldn’t help but chuckle. 

As much as he would like to follow Elain from a distance–annoyance did wonderful things to her bottom–they needed to discuss what just happened. Lucien jogged to catch up to Elain and matched her pace. “So, what was your vision about?”

Elain gave him a look from the corner of her eyes but relented with a frustrated sigh. “It was…blurry, even by what I normally experience,” she admitted. “Normally, I have an idea of what the vision is about–I’ve seen Vassa transform into a bird more times than I can count by now, and saw Hybern’s ravens in the Library. But this time, it was like trying to watch a play through a thick fog.”

“Why was this vision different?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice with thick with frustration. “It also may explain why I was unresponsive for several minutes. I tried to…follow the vision, get closer to what was happening in the hopes that I could see it better.”

Lucien paused. “That seems dangerous. I know very little about Seers, but I know the mind can be a very dangerous place to be stuck whenever powerful magic is around, even for the most proficient of fae.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? The only real skill I bring to this small operation are my visions, and that’s only if they’re actually useful to us,” she muttered irritably. 

Lucien didn’t agree–their earlier witty argument was already the highlight of his month, and they’d only been together for two days. He changed tactics. “Perhaps this vision is going to happen so far in the future that its details aren’t set in stone yet. Maybe it can still change, depending on what happens in the present, and that’s why you couldn’t see anything clearly.”

Elain sighed. “Perhaps. But why show it to me now, for me to worry over?”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“I just can’t not worry about it now,” Elain scoffed. 

“Then worry about it with me. I’m not here to fight with you, Elain,” Lucien said gently. “Regardless of how you feel about us, we need to work together, at least until we find Vassa. Can you do that?”

She bit her lip. “Of course, you’re right. We’re a team–” Lucien couldn’t help his smile, his heart soaring– “just until we find Vassa,” Elain ended. 

“Right,” Lucien muttered, his heart sinking back into the pit of his stomach. “Just until we find Vassa.”

But Lucien knew, as they continued walking in silence the rest of the day, that he wanted to try to be more with Elain than just temporary teammates. He’d experienced her wit and fire first hand, knew she was flawed like him and on some level desired him, and suspected, under her biting remarks, that she was kind and generous and good. The fact that she was utterly beautiful didn’t even factor in to his initial reasons of why he wanted to spend more time by her side.

Lucien now had two very pressing missions: find the last mortal queen who had been transformed into a firebird, and learn all he could about Elain Archeron.

“Did you care for any birds growing up?” Lucien asked conversationally later, after they had found a small copse of trees to shelter under during the night. Dinner had yielded an awkward conversation about the weather, along with their dried meats, bread and fruit. They were each laying on their respective bedrolls, staring at the night sky through the branches of the trees. 

Elain furrowed her brows and frowned. “What?”

“Well, this is the third time you’ve had a vision concerning birds; an odd coincidence, I wasn’t sure if you kept any birds as pets in your youth.”

“None at all.”

“Ah.” Lucien lightly drummed his fingers on the ground beneath him. “Do you like birds?”

“I’ve never thought about birds in any capacity until very recently,” Elain said blankly.

“Something we have in common. I, too, don’t care for birds, and after tonight, I never want to think about the flying pests ever again.”

To his delight, Elain gave a short laugh. “Finally, one thing we can agree on. Good night, Lucien.”

Lucien had charmed plenty of females before to know that getting them to laugh was one of the hardest obstacles to overcome in wooing. The fact that they had gone from arguing, to a tentative trust, to laughing, all in the space of one day was a very good sign, Lucien thought with a grin.

One step down, he thought happily as he drifted off to sleep, and only a million more to go.

[areyoudreaminof]

WIP Wednesday: Fools Errand or How the Pink Sofa was Broken

The loud knocks and sobs from behind the door wretched Lucien from a deep sleep.

He awoke with a start, momentarily forgetting where he was as the knocking continued. The stirring next to him reminded him where he was.

He was in his bed in the manor, Elain sleeping next to him, sitting up in confusion, with the sheet covering her bare body. “What’s going on?” she asked groggily as they both shot out of bed, throwing on whatever clothing they could find. Lucien slept naked, and he had gotten Elain into the habit. While it was usually the best thing that had ever happened to Lucien, he regretted it slightly as he hopped into a pair of breeches.

Lucien flung the door open, positioning his body in front of Elain’s, but it was only Vassa standing in the hallway.

The queen's red hair looked frazzled and her cheeks were streaked with tears. “You have to come downstairs,” she stammered, “it’s terrible.”

Lucien grabbed a dagger off of the dresser, while Elain wrapped her arms around Vassa. Flying down the stairs, they were met with a rather empty looking parlor, Jurian standing away from them, hands behind his back. He looked over his shoulder, “Sofa’s broken.” He grunted, stepping aside.

The bright pink sofa was teetering to one side, a thick wooden foot clearly cracked, and the bottom frame teetering out of the linen underside. Whipping his head back, Lucien caught Vassa’s eye.

“You woke us up for the sofa.” He stated, trying to string the words together. “No one is hurt, we’re not under attack-“

“The sofa is broken, Lucien!” Vassa snapped, gesturing wildly towards the hot pink piece of furniture. “I want to know who did this! Sofas don’t break just like that!” Elain met Lucien’s eye with a wide eyed look, sending pure confusion down the bond. Jurian sighed as he stomped over, “Vassa, we don’t know how old the sofa was. We sit on it at all hours, we nap on it-“

“No, sitting and napping do not destroy a sofa like that!” Vassa growled. She rounded onto Lucien pointing a finger in his face, “Someone jumped on it! Confess your crimes!” Lucien crossed his eyes as she waved a pale hand in his face.

“I haven’t done anything, bird brain!” Lucien exclaimed, pushing her hand away. “You’re jumping to conclusions for no-“

“Someone broke the sofa and it certainly wasn’t me-“

“Vassa! That’s enough!”

Lucien, still reeling with shock and utter confusion, turned to Elain, whose voice silenced the squawking bird queen. Tightening the robe around her, Elain sighed deeply as she pulled Lucien back.

“Vassa, Jurian is right. It’s an old style sofa and we’re always on it because it’s the most comfortable. Tomorrow, the boys will try and fix it,” she eyed Lucien and Jurian sternly, “and you and I will look for one in the catalogs and send an order if they can’t. Now, we have had a long few days with all of the negotiating with humans and Spring Court interpersonal drama we can hear all the way down here, so can we please get some rest?”

Lucien threw his arms around Elain and pressed a kiss to her wild curls, if only to get himself to stop laughing. Jurian had the same problem, his eyes wide as he sucked his cheeks in to keep from bursting.

Only Vassa had the composure to reply with a hissing, “Fine.” as the merry band retreated to their rooms.

Lucien and Elain and stripped the moment the door shut behind them, flopping back into bed. Glancing at the clock, Lucien calculated he could try and get a few more hours of sleep and negotiate a mid morning start to the sofa, when he suddenly remembered-

“That sofa is not old at all, is it?”

Elain shrugged as she nestled deeper into the sheets, hitching her leg over his. “Probably a few years old. Sitting parlors usually get newer furniture. It’s the most comfortable one in the house. So of course it wore out.”

Lucien snorted with laughter as his hand crept down her spine, ever so slowly. “Oh, of course. We certainly didn’t have anything to do with it, did we?”

His hand reached her plump ass as he gave it a squeeze. They’d made love earlier in the evening and in the afternoon, but they were awake again, Lucien thought to himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucien.” Elain said with indifference, though she flipped over to straddle him, having gotten the same notion he had. “The two of us couldn’t have possibly broken that couch.”

Before he could answer her, Elain caught Lucien’s bottom lip with her teeth. Lucien grasped her hips, as she ever so slowly lowered herself onto his cock. He hissed as she began to ride him in a hypnotic rhythm.

“This is much more fun on the sofa.” Elain gasped as she kissed Lucien again. They both came as quickly and quietly as they could, hyper aware of their housemates down the hall.