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asnowfern · 6 months ago

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Guard Dog of Your Fever Dreams

Summary: Elain can see the future, usually in the form of misfortunes and accidents that she cannot prevent. While under her self-imposed solitude, she dreams of the violent death of a beautiful auburn hair stranger.

Resolved to try saving someone (anyone) this time, Elain finds a job at Day Corp to save their ever rising corporate superstar, Lucien Vanserra.

Rating: M, NSFW for future chapters

WC: 2.9k

Read on AO3

A/N: A humble offering for day 7 of @elucienweekofficial : AU (modern office setting with some healing!😉) I hope you like it!

A huge thank you to the amazing amazing event organisers! You guys did such an incredible job, it’s completely mind blowing! I hope you guys have a nice long, long nap after this!💕

Also, a huge thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher for your encouragement and convincing me this fic is worth writing😅 Love you😘

The large screen stares down at Elain with its numerous pixelated eyes, each square a bright intimidating hue. They gel together in a mix of flesh coloured and dark tones to form the face of the company’s latest beautiful ambassador, perfectly shaped lips forming the words the middle Archeron does not need to hear to know.

Day Corp. Lighting your path with dreams.

Slender fingers tighten around the thin straps of her faux leather bag. She did it — landed herself a job in one of the biggest technological conglomerate in Prythian history. A small smile plays on her lips as she inhales deeply.

The classy signature fragrance of the company permeates all corners of the glass tinted tower, the clicks of shoes on marble floors rushing across the lobby, the garbled chatter of the many executives.

And exhale.

Chocolate brown orbs open to the natural light streaming through glass surfaces. Elain turn towards the lift only to collide head first into a solid fabric covered surface, stumbling backwards in a series of tiny frantic clicks. She feels the brush of rough fingertips against the outside of her upper arms as they barely miss her.

The effect is instantaneous but somehow also drawn out — gravity pulls her relentlessly downwards until her bum hits hard on cool marble. The impact on her tailbone reverberates up her spine like a lightning bolt.

“Ow,” Elain groans as she scrambles to her feet, her mortification temporarily overriding the ache. She finds her hand somehow effortlessly slipping into the welcoming grip of calloused palm. Fingers close around her hand to pull her up, another hand soon joins to lightly support her back to keep her upright.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” the wielder of a velvety baritone voice rushes out, “are you okay?”

Elain’s gaze trails upwards from where her eye line meets pressed stiff white cotton to russet eyes boring into her, the space between his eyes furrowed in concern. A muscle is feathered slightly in that chiselled jaw, drawing attention to the golden brown skin of his neck that teases down into his white shirt.

Her brain blanks out for a full couple of seconds before finally, finally registering who he was.

Because never once did it dawn on her how beautiful he would be in person.

Gosh, did life have to be this unfair to her?

“Are you okay?” He repeats when he realised she hasn’t responded. The hand that is still spanned across her back tightens in reflex. “Do you need to have a seat first?”

It snaps the honey brunette back into action and Elain stumbles half a step backwards. The movement wrenches her hand out of his grip and leaves her palm missing the warmth immediately.

“No, no, I can be such a klutz sometimes,” she reassures him, and though the throbbing in her tailbone says otherwise, she continues stubbornly, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

The man doesn’t look convinced, insisting, “Where are you headed to? It’s the least I can do to escort you there.”

“Level twenty one, the strategic investment department,” Elain answers dutifully before hastily adding, “but you really don’t have to.”

The honey brunette holds back a wince as she forces her hips in a hopefully even walk. She lets loose a shuddery breath as she straightens the bag strap on her shoulder. Act like a normal person, goddammit! She chides herself.

Next to her, her companion poorly hides a smile. His arm stretches out to usher her towards the lift lobby, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?” He asks, pointing to the staff pass she had used to access the lobby.

Unwilling to let the embarrassing encounter completely ruin her day, Elain returns brightly, “First day! I’m supposed to look for Vassa, who works in the same department?”

“I know the one.” He replies with a smirk.

She nods along, “I’m sure you do.” Continuing at the surprised look he gives her, she adds sheepishly, “I recognise you from the company’s campaign video. The up and coming software engineer star, Lucien Vanserra?”

Elain giggles when Lucien squeezes his eyes shut and groans. She nods sagely, patting him lightly on his arm as they enter the lift, saying innocently with wide doe eyes, “Don’t worry, you looked great. The camera didn’t add ten pounds or anything.”

“Well then,” he declares loftily, “it would be entirely unfair for me to not know your name now. Not when you know mine, the identity of the assailant who knocked you over in the main lobby.”

She lifts both hands to each side of her shoulder, shrugging, “I’m not hiding anything here. Elain Archeron, first day newbie associate at the strategic investment team.”

“Elain Archeron,” the redhead repeats, drawing out each syllable as if he’s testing out her name on his tongue. He sticks out a hand, his well-muscles forearm on display, “Let’s do this right then. Nice to meet you, Elain. I’m Lucien Vanserra, up and rising superstar with the software development team.”

Elain snorts, not expecting her words to be thrown back to her, and slips her hand in his, shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you too, Lucien. I look forward to working together if we ever get the chance.”

With a smile a little too rakish for this century and wholly unhealthy for her heart, Lucien tugs her hand towards him, brushing his lips lightly across the back of her palm. His eyes gleam knowingly. “I look forward to it too.”

It is at that very moment that the lift doors slide open to reveal golden brown skin and frizzy hair, azure eyes that round immediately as its owner takes in the scene before them.

“Oh.” The woman that can only be her new teammate, Vassa Lebedev, exclaims. “OH! Vanserra! What are you doing to my new associate?!”

“Charming her.”

“Bowling me over.”

They chorus simultaneously, each of them subtly (or so they think) dropping their hands back to their side.

“Elain!” Lucien half complains before explaining to the other redhead who has now raised a questioning brow at him, “it was an accident. I was distracted and didn’t see where I was going, completely unintentionally knocking her to the ground. But I made sure she got here safely, didn’t I?”

“Excellent job, Vanserra. You have my sincerest attitude.” Vassa says sarcastically. She lightly pulls Elain out of the lift and towards her.

“Better,” he nods jokingly before turning his gaze back to Elain, saying a little more gently this time, “It really was nice meeting you. I do hope we meet in better circumstances next time.”

“Likewise, Lucien.” She returns with a smile. A smile she doesn’t realise she has held some time after the lift door closes and Vassa remarks playfully, nudging her shoulder, “Charming dude, huh?”

Elain blushes slightly, remembering the circumstances she is under - that she’s meeting her new teammate for the first time on her first day of work. Clearing her throat slightly, she says primly, “He made quite an impression but you don’t have to worry about me. I keep my private and work lives separately. Don’t shit where you eat and all that.”

Surprisingly, Vassa laughs and claps her on the shoulder, “You don’t have to worry about that. Lucien is honestly a really good guy, you could do much worse.”

“I’m sure he is,” the brunette agrees, feeling the slight frown coming on, “I just don’t date much.”

“Really?” Her buddy asks skeptically, eying her head to toe. “I find that hard to believe.”

She gives a noncommittal shrug. “Things never seem to work out and it just becomes more trouble than it’s worth eventually.”

Thankfully, Vassa doesn’t ask further. Wasting no time, the senior associate switches back to work mode, quickly showing Elain around and introducing her to the team. The conversation at the lift quickly gets left behind.

Much to Elain’s relief.

Because no one can know her true motivations of finding a job at Day Corp.

***

The stinging cold concrete against her knees is no distraction against the scene of devastation laid in front of Elain. Her throat tightens, eyes burning as she hoists the bloodied man into her arms, cradling him into her chest.

“No…” she begs, her voice breaking into sobs. Trembling fingers brush the stray strands away from the man’s face, his expression contorted in pain. She is quick to stop him, whispering, “don’t try to speak. Help is on the way, alright? You just hang in there!”

Her body shakes slightly as she feels the dampness from his wound seep through the front of her top. Even her completely medically ignorant self is aware that the bleeding is spreading too fast. Yanking the scarf off her neck, she presses it hard against the bleeding site.

The man in her arms coughs at the increased pressure. The russet eyes, still so beautiful, are pained as they focus on her. “Elain… I’m sorry. Perhaps there are just some things we cannot change.”

“No, don’t you dare die on me, Lucien! Don’t you even think about it,” she forces herself to say fiercely, even as sobs start to rack her body and her vision turns blurry, “I will never forgive you if you leave me so you better hang in there.”

Lucien sputters another cough in response, his crimson stained mouth starting to form indecipherable words. Until eventually, it too goes lax, brilliant russet eyes turning glazed and glassy.

Time comes to a standstill in that freezing dilapidated warehouse where Elain holds Lucien’s limp body close to her heart, where he would remain forever more. Darkness holds her heart in a vice grip as she releases a soul cleaving wail.

“A triple shot latte and an Americano for Elain?”

Elain startles at the loud call from the barista, her frazzled exhausted nerves making her even more jumpy. She accepts the filled tumblers with a small smile and perfunctory thanks. With a click of her heel, she turns away from the counter, eyes fluttering shut as she heaves a sigh. She gives another half hearted futile attempt to drive the image from her dreams of her colleague dying in her arms.

Is she kidding herself when she thought she could make a difference this time?

Elain was always a precocious child, behaving exactly as she needed to at the exact moment she was supposed to, fuelled by small signals of misfortune in her early childhood that eventually got stronger as she got older. Feyre fracturing an elbow because she got into a fight with a bully, Nesta getting a concussion after falling down a flight of stairs, her high school boyfriend going comatose after a freak wild boar attack.

She tried to prevent them, she really did. Nudging the people around her in small ways. Take the train, not the bus. The weather is awful so they should just stay home.

Nothing worked. One way or the other, the goddess of misfortune weaves her tapestry well enough so that there is no escaping fate.

After the sudden death of her mother in a car accident left Elain unable to face the consequences of her inaction, she packed up and left. Velaris may be the home of her sisters but it will never be anything more than a constant reminder of her failures to the middle Archeron.

A new city, a new life, she swore to herself. She built a stone wall around her heart and kept mostly to herself, not making personal connections. Work, sleep, work, sleep and repeat. If she doesn’t get close, nobody gets hurt.

It worked well enough for a couple of years that the seer thought she had finally, finally, escaped her fate.

Until she got struck by the recurring nightmare of a mysterious male stranger bleeding out on cold floors.

He looked beautiful, even while splayed out on the dreary grey floors of an abandoned warehouse. An angel that fell in battle with the bullet shaped hole in his chest. His eyes, in the most vibrant shade of russet, looked into Elain’s soul, commanding yet pleading for salvation.

Steadily, as the seconds tick by, those sharp facial features go lax. The eyes turn imploring and haunting, then finally, hollow.

It was the first time she had witnessed a stranger’s death in such vivid detail. Whose authoritative stare she was unable to shake off. A tug on her soul demanding her to do something — a call to arms.

A call she had no business of answering, spinning to herself excuses a yard long. This man was a stranger. Where would she even begin?

The answer crashed upon her when the pesky overbearing hands of fate interfered once more. This time, in the blessed and cursed form of a campaign video from the technological conglomerate, Day Corp, when a charming unassuming smile blazed through the camera lens and travelled through the LCD screen of her phone to reach her. It razed its path clean, leaving nothing but embers of determination, of a soul-guzzling need to challenge and change the course of fate.

The same sultry voice from the video calls out from behind her, “Elain!”

Like a moth drawn to flame, the seer instinctively turns towards the owner of the voice. A small smile working its way to her face as she answers, “Lucien. Getting a pick-me-up in preparation for the meeting too?”

“Yep,” he affirmed, popping the ‘p’ with sensual, firm lips. He nods at the two drinks in her hand, “Where’s Vassa?”

Elain shrugs, “She’ll be meeting us at the Ivory Tower directly. Something about needing to brief Iliana ahead of the meeting.”

Lucien dips his chin in acknowledgment, the lines around his eyes crinkle into a commiserating wince. Even in the short time that Elain has been with the company, she has gathered enough about the Senior Vice President of the Group and Global Head of Investments (aka the Iron Hand) to know to stay away from her. It’s only unfortunate that Vassa, as her daughter, is unable to do the same.

Her companion holds the glass door of the coffee shop open for her, his arm outstretched in invitation. Elain murmurs a thanks as they step out onto the pavement, their feet easily falling in sync.

“Where’s Jurian?” She asks, enquiring after Lucien’s fellow software engineer and the fourth and final member of their team.

“He insisted on getting coffee from Ravens, down by seventh street instead.” He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “Something about them running a half price offer.”

The edges of her lips curve into a smile at the thought. “And you didn’t join him?”

Lucien says nothing for a while. His drink is raised to his lips, badly hiding a conspiratorial smile. “I heard you might be at that coffee shop after lunch.”

“Oh?” A loaded question, as any.

“Oh,” he repeated, “because I wanted to ask if you would like to grab dinner together, come Friday night?”

Elain is thankful for the traffic junction that crosses their path at that very moment, giving her body the chance to stop. She opens her mouth, an apology to turn down the invite at the ready, “Oh, Lucien, I—”

The female catches herself in time before the rest of the rejection falls out of her mouth. Because she has been trying. Gods know, she has. From cyber stalking to maybe-not-so-subtle questions about the software engineer to her new colleagues. But she still doesn’t have a single inkling of any event or reason that might lead to his death. Could getting closer to him help further her cause?

Making a split second decision, she changes course (sort of). “I don’t really date much...”

“But?” He prompted.

She feels a warmth spreading over cheeks, sure to have painted them rose “but maybe just as two people getting to know each other?”

Lucien viably stifles a bubbling laugh to tease, “you know that’s what a date is right?”

The damned heat in her cheeks seemed to have spread to her ears. She snaps, “It’s been a while, okay!”

This time, he does laugh. One that seems to have resonated deep from his belly as he tips his head backwards and stretches the column of his neck. He stops just before Elain snaps again, the look he gives her is a charming mix of mirth and sincerity. “I will do my best not to disappoint.”

She gives a mock scowl, ready with a faux snooty reply when another set of images assaulted her mind, one of building scaffoldings collapsed on a familiar wavy mop of chocolate brown hair and freckled face.

Elain gasped, “Jurian”

Led by screaming instincts, Elain shoves the tumblers into her bag and runs off, leaving behind a perplexed Lucien. Even through the burn of her leg muscles and the gasping tightness of her lungs, she continues to sprint. Ravens, Seventh Street, Ravens, Seventh Street. She single mindedly repeats.

She nearly cries when she rounds a corner of a building and sees Jurian casually strolling beneath a stretch of interconnected wooden support structures. She yanks the unsuspecting colleague aside and away from the building.

Jurian’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Elain?! What are you d—“

CRASH.

An oncoming speeding electric scooter crashes into the wooden poles and unleashes a cascading collapse of scaffolding. It surrounds them with a cloud of dust before Jurian is able to complete his question.

“How the bloody hell did you know that was about to happen?”

Elain tears her concerned gaze away from Jurian, who has been stunned still, and squeezes her eyes shut at the question from a panting Lucien behind her.

Shit.

#elucien #modern office AU #with a slight seer y twist #elucienweek2024 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #goodnight people it’s way too late rn

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