#lucien comfort

[ryder-writes]

Period Cramps- Lucien x GN!Reader

A/n: I wish I had a himbo to comfort me during my period lol

CW: reader gets their period, nothing else tho :]

WC: 675

"Angelll- Angel, wake up." You hum, opening your eyes to slowly to adjust to the light. "There you are." He smiles, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Alright, I guess. My stomach hurts though." You grumble. "I think it's my period."

"Your what?" Lucien gives you a look of concern and confusion.

"My period. Do demons not have those?" Now it was your turn to look confused.

"Not that I know of."

"Oh." You both sat in an awkward silence for a second before Lucien spoke up.

"So… what's a period?"

"Well, basically, I bleed from my- uh-" You gesture toward your lower area. "y'know-" He still looks confused before his eyes widen in realization.

"Oh… OH."

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah; I get cramps and cravings and headaches." You sigh. "It's annoying but it's whatever, I'm kinda used to it at this point." Just then you feel a sharp pain in your lower abdomen causing you to curl over, clutching your stomach.

"Angel! Angel are you okay?" He goes to hold you but pauses, as he doesn't want to accidentally hurt you.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." You give him a thumbs up.

"Uh huh. Sure." He teases. You shoot him a glare.

"Ookay, I'll stop." He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Can I get you anything? Make you some food?" A large hand gently rests on your back, rubbing back and forth.

"Food sounds nice. Medicine too?" You sit back up and rest your weight onto his hand.

"Of course, my love. What would you like?" He asks as he leans down to kiss your head.

"I want chocolate." He chuckles at your response.

"Maybe some chocolate chip pancakes then?" You turn around to look at him.

"Oh my god that sounds amazing." Leaning up, you give him a kiss. During the kiss, your pain decides to come back, and you curl over again. You groan:

"Ohh, that's bad." He starts to rub your back again. This causes you to get an idea. Grabbing his arm, you bring it to your lower abdomen. "Turn on your heat." You grumble. Lucien raises an eyebrow but does so anyways. A relieved groan leaves your throat. "Oh… that feels so good."

"Heat helps it?"

"Mhm. Most people get heating pads."

"Well, you don't have to do that." He wraps his other arm around your waist and squeezes gently. "Because you have your own personal, sexy, irresistible heating pad."

"And egotistical." You mumble. He gasps;

"I am not egotistical! I'm just proud of who I am."

"Uh-huh." You roll your eyes.

"ANYWAYS, I'm gonna go make us some pancakes." Kissing your head, he slowly removes his hands from your waist. He them steps out of bed. Lifting his arms, he stretches (much to your enjoyment) before walking out of the room to go make breakfast.

-

Twenty minutes later, you hear your boyfriend walking back to your shared room. He kicks the cracked door open to reveal him standing there holding a tray topped with pancakes, fruit, and a mug of (your favorite hot drink). He was also shirtless, with only his boxers and an apron on. Which you had to admit, was a very nice view.

"I got you some of your human medicine as well." He gestures toward the pill bottle next to the bowl of fruit before placing the tray in front of you on the bed. While doing so, you lean up and kiss his chin and look at the spread in front of you. He really went all out. You then notice something a bit off.

"Babe, why are there two forks?"

He laughs;

"What, like I was gonna make you pancakes and not have some myself?? Please." He shuffles back into bed next to you. Grabbing a fork, he cuts a bit of pancake. He turns to you and tells you to "open wide".

You two take turns feeding each other as you eat the breakfast he so lovingly prepared.

Maybe this period won't be so bad.

A/n Pt.2: Hope you enjoyed!! I have some more yuurivoice fics on my Masterlist as well if you would like to read more :3

[surielstea]

Comfort by Candlelight

Based on this request.

Pairing: Lucien Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lucien comforts Reader during her torturous cycle.

Warnings: Mentions of menstrual periods | descriptions of throwing up | heart wrenching fluff (I need this man badly)

2.5k words.

The ache in my body came in relentless waves, crashing harder into me after the last. I'd barely made it into my room before collapsing onto my bed, curling into a ball and burrowing into the cold pillows, seeking reprieve from the sharp twists in my abdomen as I tucked my legs to my chest and let out pitiful, quiet sniffles.

The knock on the door makes me groan, half of me wishes whoever it was would just go away. Of course, the door creaked open and I was met with a concerned-faced Lucien taking up the doorway with a steaming mug in his hands.

He paced to my bedside, setting the hot tea down on my nightstand. "I made your favorite blend— it's not as good as your brew but, I tried." He mumbles and I smile softly at my mate. His amber eye looks me over, his brows creasing as his concern grows for me.

"Also—" He fishes a small vial from his breast pocket, the clear liquid inside already making me grimace. His eyes softened at my reaction to the pain tonic. "I know you hate the taste but it'll take the edge off." He reassures, placing the vial beside my steaming tea. "So let's sit you up and you can wash it down with some tea yeah?" He says, standing upright and peering down at me.

Slowly, I nod and he moves to help guide me up, putting a pillow behind me as I lean back against the headboard. "Alright?" He asks cautiously and I nod again.

"You don't have to baby me, you know," I remark as he hands me the vial after unscrewing its cap.

"I know I don't have to," He says, grabbing my tea, keeping it warm with the fire at his fingertips. "But I want to." His gaze doesn't falter as he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Now drink, and then you can have the tea." He croons, keeping my mug captive.

I huff a sigh as I bring the vial up to my lips, trying not to breathe in as I downed the oddly thick, syrupy medicine. I groan as I swallow it down and he was quick to bring the rim of the mug to my lips. I drank deeply, the perfectly tempered beverage spreading warmth throughout my entire body. I hum delightfully and take another sip, pulling my legs up to my chest.

"Good?" He asks tentatively and I nod, pulling the drink away.

"You might have to start making my tea all the time," I chirp as if it were a warning. He smiles softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.

"Fine by me, just say the word and I'll do anything to make you feel better alright?" He murmurs into my hair, his calloused hand cupping my cheek gently.

He pulls away and I look up at him, tears brimming my eyes. His brows crease. "No, no baby what's wrong?" His hand on my cheek moves along my jaw, wiping the invisible tears beneath my eyes. "Nothing— you're just, so kind to me," I sniffle. He knew full well I was only acting like this because of the imbalance and swing of my hormones but it was still endearing to see me so torn up about his affection. "I don't deserve this," I murmur and his smile shifts into a frown, that, that he had a problem with.

"No." He said sternly. "No, my love you deserve everything good that there is." He reassures. "Now I'm going to draw you a bath, you stay here alright?" He said and I nodded, still sniffing.

Only a minute later he was returning to my side and guiding me into his arms, carrying me bridal style into our bathing chambers. He gave me the dignity of undressing myself while he poured my favorite oils and salts into the bath, stirring it with his hand, simultaneously warming it with the fire in his veins.

Once I was bare he guided me into the warm water, my muscles immediately soothing over at the change of temperature. I let out a soft sigh as I relaxed into the tub, leaning back and allowing the heat of the water to sink into my very bones.

"Are you trying to make me love you more?" I ask through a groan as he moves to lather an expensive-smelling soap along my bare skin.

"Is it working?" He asks with a sly tone, and there was that bantering, foxlike Lucien I loved.

"Maybe, keep going, and then I'll decide," I murmur, leaning into his touch, the familiar sensation of his rough, large hands being so delicate with me. "You know, I could get used to all this pampering," I add, voicing my every thought without any hesitation.

"Mm, good. I'm not going anywhere." He says as he finishes up washing me, not missing an inch.

I craned my neck back to look at him, peeking one eye open and finding his button-up white shirt rolled up at the forearms, but still damp at the edges nonetheless, yet he stared at me like he had no intention of changing until I was asleep.

"Go change, I want to soak for a few more minutes," I shoo him away, waving a dismissive hand.

"I'll be back to dry you off," He says, his tone falling back into that comforting, warm voice.

He shuffles out of the room, leaving the door cracked in case I need to call for him. I released a soft sigh, closed my eyes, and relaxed into the bath. Wincing slightly as a wave of pain shoots up my side. The pain tonic should kick in soon, and then hopefully I'll be able to sleep.

I rub at my eyes, exhaustion from my own body being at war with itself weighing on me with ceaseless pain. If the pain wasn't so intense I think I'd just sleep through the rest of the week.

Lucien came back in, as quiet as a cat on his feet, now changed and styled in only a pair of pajama pants. I admired the view of his bare torso in the candlelight— when I noticed the stack of clothes in his hands, as well as a towel draped over his broad, bare shoulder and a stack of more feminine products in his other hand.

"You want to dress yourself or do you need my help?" He asks as he places everything on the counter. I cringe slightly at the idea of him watching me secure my pad in my undergarments.

"I'll do it," I utter, standing from the tub and he rushes over to hand me the towel.

"Okay, I'll be just outside," He whispers, silently communicating that he didn't care what I asked him to do, and only wanted to help. I nod and take the towel from him, beginning to dry off as he leaves the bathing chamber yet again.

I move to where he had placed my clothes, noticing he had somehow selected my softest nightgown. I smiled and slipped the silky dress over my head, then put on a fresh pair of lined underwear. Once I was done I let my hair down and nearly laughed at the image of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous, utterly terrifying. I combed my hands through my hair, attempting to create some semblance of being put together.

All the movement was beginning to make me queasy. My breath hitched as nausea began working its way up my stomach. I gripped the edge of the counter, taking a deep breath and hoping it'd fade but my body refused to lose this fight— and suddenly I was rushing towards the toilet with bile rising in my throat.

I hurled, the feeling burning my throat as tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't even hear the door open, or the rushed footsteps before Lucien's warm hand was guiding my hair away from my face and his other was rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I whimpered once the worst of it was over, my body aching as I gasped for air, wiping at my mouth and sniveling.

"I'm disgusting." I huff. "Why aren't you running for the hills by now?" I murmur, looking at my mate lazily.

"I've seen worse. Trust me, this doesn't crack the top thousand." He reassured and I let out a breathless laugh.

"Top thousand, hm? You must've led a very interesting life before you met me." I drawl, my voice weak due to the rawness of my throat.

"I don't remember much of a life before I met you." He said cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

"How can you tell me that when I've just puked half my lunch up?" I scowl.

"Because you're beautiful." He replies without missing a beat.

"Liar." I retort.

"Maybe, but it hasn't stopped me from sharing has it?" His smirk deepens.

"Pervert." I huff.

"I prefer 'Devoted Mate', but whatever you say." He continues and I frown at his insistence on being the best male I have ever met.

"I'm going to bite your face off," I warn, deciding my nausea was done wreaking havoc on my body and stumbling to my feet— which Lucien had guided me to.

"As long as you're not biting any other parts off, we're doing just fine." He jokes as I walk over to the sink, cupping my hands beneath the cool water and rinsing my mouth thoroughly.

"Careful," I cautioned while wiping my mouth. "Or I might reconsider." I smile, wrapping an arm around his bare torso and leaning on him for support as he takes us back over to the bed.

I flopped down onto the warm mattress, curling into the excessive amount of decorative pillows that I was too exhausted to throw off the side of the bed. "Oh, love," Lucien tuts, guiding me to readjust into a more comfortable position, then taking the time to remove the useless pillows from the bed. "Better?" He asks as he sits on the edge of the mattress, helping me pull the blankets higher up my body.

I nod softly. "Much better," I murmur and he smiles, his eyes flicking over to the spot he usually slept in.

"Do you want your own space tonight? I can sleep on the couch— or even the floor if you want me to." He offered after a moment of silence.

I nearly laughed. "I don't want you anywhere but right next to me," I say with a shake of my head and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"Oh good, I really did not want to sleep on the floor," He sighed while slipping into his side of the bed. I giggle, the sound turning into a groan as a piercing pain twists in my abdomen. The corners of his lips tug downward at my clear discomfort. The tonic should've begun working by now, but something told me I hurled that back up only moments ago.

"I wish there was more I could do for you." My mate said with a reassuring kiss to my temple while gathering me into his arms, pulling me into his chest, and encasing me in the scent of a crackling fire and sandalwood, the smell reminding me of being wrapped in a well wore leather coat on a crisp autumn morning.

"There is one thing you could do," I suggest slowly and he looked at me curiously, and even in the dim light I could see the devotion in his eye— the willingness to do anything I asked, silently pleading with me to just say the word.

I reach around to grab his hand that was resting on my ribs. I brought it around, guiding his palm and long fingers to cup over my lower stomach. "Mmkay, now warm it up," I mumble, his brows crease in confusion but he does as I say— and his hand feels like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

I smile as my sharp pains ebb away from the heat, my muscles relaxing under his loving touch. "Am I just your personal heater?" He asks in a quiet voice, rubbing his thumb over the area of bare skin.

"A damned good one at that," I murmur while burrowing into his neck, craving the warmth there too. I kiss his bare collarbone, delighting in the sensation of his heated skin beneath my fingertips.

He pressed kisses to my hairline, so subtle I wouldn't have felt it if he were anyone else— but Lucien's kisses were different like each one was a piece of himself he was offering to me, heavy with the weight of his love. I pulled back from his shoulder to look up at him curiously.

"Thank you, Lucien," I whispered, my lips ghosting over his.

"Don't thank me." He shakes his head, his nose grazing mine slightly at the action. "Don't you ever thank me." He leaned closer, closing the distance between us. I melted into the feeling of his lips on mine, his hand on my abdomen growing slightly hotter as he got lost in my lips. I hum in amusement, pulling back and for a second I thought he might chase me back onto his mouth, but he remained still, staring at me with only reverence.

"I love you," I profess quietly, my hand coming up to cup his jaw, my thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "So much," I add, leaning in once more, chastely peppering kisses over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, where sun-kissed, freckled skin was.

He smiles beneath my soft kisses, his eyes shimmering with warmth and affection. "I love you too, more than words can ever express," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze makes my heart swell, the ache in my body momentarily forgotten in the presence of his love.

As I pull back, I rest my forehead against his, letting the moment linger. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of us cocooned in our little sanctuary. "You're so good to me," I whisper, brushing my fingers through his tousled hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," He retorts, guiding my head back into the crook of his neck. “Rest now, you need it.” His hand soothed through my hair, detangling the ends silently, the quiet intimacy of it all making my stomach twist— this time, in a good way, similar to butterflies soaring.

“Goodnight Lu,” I murmur into his warm skin, pressing one last kiss to his neck. He didn’t reply, just continued to stroke my hair as I succumbed to the warmth of his affection, the darkness of night slowly wrapping around me— and he was the flickering candlelight that lulled me to sleep, my body finally finding rest as I meet a peaceful slumber.

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[brielyasmin]

“ 𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒊𝒏, 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌. 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅— 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆. 𝑷𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏, 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒘, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒚𝒆 — 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝑹𝒉𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 … 𝑯𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔 — 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒆’𝒅 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦. ”

for @elucienweekofficial

find my art.

[animezinglife]

I’m still bothered by the fact Feyre left Lucien filthy and in the clothes he’d been in for a week when she brought him back to the Night Court.

I get it—you’re glad to be home and happy to see Rhys. So go give him a big, passionate hug and kiss (completely acceptable given the circumstances), tell him to start a bath for you, and MAKE SURE YOUR GUEST IS COMFORTABLE AND SITUATED FIRST. You don’t have to give him a full tour of the city and introduce him to everyone yet: just show him to the bath, make sure he has fresh clothing, and a room for now so he can get clean and decompress a little. Let him know he can get food from the kitchen or whatever he needs. If he’s going to end up staying somewhere else, at least make him comfortable for now.

You can do all of the above while still being emotional about being reunited with your love.

Then go spend however long “catching up” with Rhys.

At least Lucien could be soaking in a hot bath of his own and have a fresh set of clothes to change into while y’all are making up for that time apart. He could grab a snack and get settled into his room or somewhere.

I love Feyre. I really do, but that scene had me cringing. I'd make a joke about her being raised in a barn, but people raised in a barn would've immediately made sure he was taken care of before tending to their own business.

I'd extend the same expectation to Rhys even if he wasn't happy with/suspicious of Lucien, but I do feel that it should've been Feyre at least starting that process. I know she's tired. I know she's been through it too, but she's still the bridge between him and the Night Court at that point.

[shadowisles-writes]

So Long, London [Elucien]

"You swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof."

Summary: After the war with Hybern, Elain is welcome back into Graysen Nolan's estate to marry him. Elated to live the life she dreamed of, Elain learns to glamour herself to fit in among the humans of their village. Unable to keep away on her wedding day, Lucien paces outside until the very last moment he can interrupt to beg her to reconsider, except the scene he walks into is anything but a wedding.

Word count: 4002

Read on AO3

[lady-iizsil]

I decided to do that expression meme by @capochiino with the unhinged expressions, did the B1 face and WOW, I am not very good at expressions but this was a fun little challenge to do on a practice page. Lucien Lachance felt like the perfect fit for that sheet! So again, another small little artwork of him! Proud I remembered to write my signature this time lmao, sorry it was in text last time I was on my phone posting it and couldn't do it away from my art program BUT YES, More murder dad, whom I love!

[goddessofwisdom18]

I made Stickers for Underrated SJM Characters!

Link

Retconned love interests! Basic mean girls! Soft girls who only get love when they're paired up with hot guys! I have them all! (Well, not yet, but I'm getting there hehe). Check them out if you'd like <3

So far I have:

TOG

Sorscha

Chaol

Elide

Kaltain

Chaolaena

ACOTAR

Mor

Lucien

Tamlin

Tarquin

Amren

I'm planning on adding Nesryn, Sartaq, Nox (my beloved), Archer Finn (my forbidden fave), Chaorian, Malide; Cresseida, Viviane, Thesan, Emerie, Emorie; and Fury, Juniper, Lehabah, Sathia, Branika (platonic), and maybe some others from CC! Stay tuned :)

[dent-de-leon]

not to go on about my love for molly again but.

The notion of dunamancy as a means to separate your soul into pieces so you can better know yourself, understand yourself. The thought that a part of you could become protective of another. Learning to love yourself through these separate pieces meeting and bonding again after being torn apart--

Thinking about how that's what happened to Molly and Lucien. Thinking of Tealeaf learning about dunamancy and finding a kind of comfort in the familiarity of it, the catharsis and comfort in parts of yourself reconciling after being shattered--

[the-darkestminds]

Elucien Week Day 7: Healing

It's Just a Burning Memory

Relationship: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Summary: Lucien and Elain find healing in each other's arms.

Word Count: ~5600

A/N: This was originally supposed to be much longer and much angstier, but I started writing and thought...you know what, these two lovelies deserve to get laid. So here we are. Might haven gotten carried away. This is my first time writing Elucien, and my first time participating in Elucien Week! Hope you enjoy! (nsfw, 18+)

Read on AO3!

Tag List: @elucienweekofficial @ataraxiasflame @chunkypossum @rarephloxes @zenkindoflove @crazy-ache @bookishwithathought @teddyhoneybear @jules-writes-stories

[climbthemountain2020]

A Heartbreak in Mid-December

Also on Ao3 | World's biggest thank you to @wilde-knight, my love, my light, my life, my beta reader <3

Synopsis: Lucien gets rip-roaring drunk after yet another failure of a Solstice and spends some time reflecting on the events that led him here. He decides that perhaps it's time to let go of the bond once and for all.

OR

CC couldn't stop picturing Elucien scenarios while listening to Neck Deep.

Highly recommend listening to December by Neck Deep before reading because it is screaming Elucien vibes to me.

Lucien crashed in through his front door, stumbling over his own two feet and slamming into the coat rack right within the doorframe. 

Shit. Fuck. 

He straightened it, blinking his eyes against the streetlight spilling into his dark apartment. The single, depressing Solstice candle he had lit before he left hours ago was still burning low. He fumbled his arm back behind him, searching for the door to slam it shut. It didn’t shut quietly, and he winced. It was very, very late–or, rather, early– and he hoped he hadn’t just woken his neighbors on a holiday. 

The sky was lightening far off in the distance, and the copious amounts of liquor Lucien had drunk roiled in his stomach as he made his way to the kitchen. Rifling through his near-empty cabinets, he found some bread and hard cheese, choosing to save himself the pain later of having gone to sleep drunk as a jester on an empty stomach. 

He chewed sloppily as he looked out the window to the brightening horizon of Velaris. It really was a beautiful city, the stars twinkling more brightly in the sky here than anywhere else he’d ever been. Every time he went into town, he was thrilled to find some new, fantastic oddity that kept his curious mind intrigued. He made friends with the shopkeepers, the artisans, the barkeeps, as he did everywhere he went. He truly could have seen himself making a home here. Except for the fact that every second of being here felt like rending his very soul from his body. 

Three years. It had been three fucking years now. Three Solstice eves where he’d gone out on a limb, taking his very carefully chosen gift like an acolyte bringing a sacrifice to an altar. Three years where he would sit through an awkward dinner with a family that wasn’t his and never would be. He’d give her the delicately wrapped parcel in carefully chosen paper, and she would politely smile and then…nothing. Not a word or even a nod in return. 

The bond might as well be a dead animal in his chest for the way it was rotting out his heart. She didn’t want him–couldn’t stand his very presence–and yet, he still tried, beating himself down and eroding more and more of himself in the process. He’d hoped, perhaps, this year would be a better year. He’d spent an egregious amount of time in the little tea shop in Day Court, combing through each of the hundreds of flavors and combinations available to choose the ones he felt she’d love. He’d bought a cinnamon, peppermint, and ginger mix, sharp and fragrant and interesting. He’d found a chai with milky ribbons of caramel that reminded him of Autumn. He’d found a breakfast tea there that hailed from the mortal lands, thinking it might be one she’d had before and warm her heart on the days that all the changes were too hard for her. Finally, he’d picked a lovely persimmon and lavender blend. It smelled like the flowers of her garden, and reminded him of warm days under the Spring sun. Rather than the physical gifts of the past two years, the enchanted gloves and the earrings, this was something simply for pleasure and enjoyment. He’d hoped this new approach would be appreciated, but just like every year, the placid smile graced her face and that was that. 

He wished, just once, she’d open that bond in her chest–let him know even the smallest bit of what she was feeling. What was he doing wrong? Was this all punishment from that god awful first moment where he’d unceremoniously blurted in his shock that she was his mate? Everyone had judged it as a claiming, a declaration, when what it had really been was a soul-gutting, horrific realization that it hadn’t been Jes. Lucien barely remembered the following events of that night–his heart and his mind cycling rapidly and frantically between protect your mate and you’d been wrong–she died for nothing. 

Lucien aggressively rubbed his hand down his face, sighing as he finished the bread, running water from the sink and sticking his face under it to drink. These were dangerous thoughts for a drunk mind. But with horrible lucidity, Lucien knew he wouldn’t be trying again next year. This had been it. As tortured as he felt about the constant rejections, he knew Elain must be tiring of his slow and steady attempts. He hoped that she could be happy here in Velaris, here in this fae body and fae life she’d never wanted, but three years of demurely rebuffed attempts had left him a ragged shell of self-hate. He couldn’t live this way anymore. 

Lucien had decided, somewhere between bottles tonight, that he was going to let this go–he had to. There was only so much a male could take, and he couldn’t keep gently offering his heart up to her only to have her crush it beneath her pretty, unfailingly polite fist. His centuries of life had been filled with so much heartbreak and torment, and he’d fought–fought like hell–to stay good. But there are only so many times a heart could be cleaved entirely in two before a person broke. He was on the precipice. He rubbed his eyes painfully as they began to burn. She owed him nothing, but he owed himself peace. 

Tonight, as he’d left the River House, kind words and hugs from Feyre, claps on the back from Cassian and Rhys, a cold side eye from the Shadowsinger, as always, he’d decided that he was going to go get rip-roaring drunk tonight. He’d allow himself this one night to drink until he forgot and wallow in his devastation, and tomorrow he would send a letter to Elain offering to sever the bond–urging her to. 

Would he go insane? Maybe. Was he already insane for allowing this to be drawn out for so long when he clearly wasn’t wanted? Perhaps. He’d tried so hard to give her the space she clearly craved these past three years, especially after he’d known she wasn’t going to fling herself off the balconies of the House of Wind. He’d been a perfect gentleman, never pushing or pressing, never overstepping. He’d been patient, tried softly to get to know her where the opportunities organically presented themselves, but he’d been foiled, one way or another, at every turn. She hated his presence as much as she hated his presents.

He’d see her every so often around town when she was walking around Velaris. It wasn’t a large city, so they were bound to see each other on his visits. She didn’t notice him, but he always noticed her, the sound of her heartbeat echoing down the bond and calling out to him like a beacon whenever she was close. She would be shopping, or talking to vendors in the market, or on her way to fix the garden of a Velaris resident. Her dresses would always complement her pretty, porcelain, freckled skin, and her hair would always be shining in the sun. Lucien would wonder, against all common sense, what it would feel like to simply sit with her at one of the many restaurants along the Sidra. He wondered what it would be like to eat lunch with her, exchange stories, get to know each other better, maybe even cause her to laugh at something he’d said. But instead, he noted her presence and moved on–Lucien never wanted to be the one to make Elain uncomfortable. 

His frustration led him to grab another bottle of liquor from the cabinet and drink straight from it as he collapsed onto the couch. What had he done in a previous incarnation to have earned such ire from the Cauldron? First, his family, then Jes, then Tamlin, now this? Lucien didn’t think he was a bad person. He’d made mistakes, sure, but he always tried to do the right thing, especially by those he cared about. But now he was here, in a city he couldn’t really call home with people he couldn’t really call friends. He’d barely bothered to decorate his apartment, choosing instead to put in a few small touches that reminded him of Autumn and Spring–an amber yellow woven blanket thrown over the back of his couch that reminded him of the maple leaves in late season, an aquamarine enchanted ceramic pot of ferns and hyacinths on the mantle from Spring. All just pieces of all the places Lucien had almost been able to call home once. 

There was no reason to torture himself and do more. He only stayed here every so often, popping in to report back to Rhysand, catch a glimpse of Elain, and hope beyond reason this would be the time Feyre told him that Elain had changed her mind. It never was. Sometimes he would see her in the halls of the River House, where she’d give a little curtsey and disappear before any words could ever be exchanged. Lucien hated the baser parts of him that the bond brought out, but most of all he hated how much her scent affected him. Honey and pears and the light smell of clean linens line-dried in the sun haunted him through the hallways, even long after she’d fled. 

Lucien swigged his harsh liquor and let the burn in his throat refocus him. He refused to lay here and think about how she smelled. 

She wasn’t interested, and she never had been. Lucien was a smart male; he wasn’t stupid enough to not be aware of Elain’s care for the Shadowsinger. At least two years now he’d seen the shared glances, the stolen touches. He was sure that Rhysand trying to avoid tensions was the only reason they hadn’t gone public with their relationship, whatever it was. He had once hoped that eventually, as a fae, she might understand the depth of a mating bond and at least want to give getting to know Lucien a try, but he’d put a time limit on it, and that was tonight. If she’d shown even the slightest bit of interest, he’d have waited forever for her. But she had shown him, again and again through her actions, or lack thereof, that she wasn’t. He couldn’t make himself be someone that he wasn’t, and she hated him solely for being her mate. He’d been raised to believe it was a blessing, and she viewed it as a punishment. What else could he do?  

Maybe it was a punishment. He’d spent centuries thinking it had been Jes, that he’d lost his one chance at real love when his brothers had cleaved her head from her shoulders and made him watch. His sweet, clever, mischievous Jes, with her kind eyes, and teasing words, and endless love for him. He’d never deserved her to begin with, and then his love had gotten her killed. A day hadn’t passed that he didn’t miss her. The worst part was, he actually thought Elain and Jes would have been fast friends–their care and love for nature and flowers and their gentle words. He could sense that Elain had a more mischievous side, not that he’d ever been allowed nor would he ever have a chance to see it himself. 

Lucien’s vision swam thinking about it all, his heartbeat a dirge within his chest for the life he’d suffered through. He had to remind himself that he, against all odds, was alive. It was enough to be thankful for, and he’d convince himself there were better times still to come, even without either of them. He pulled that woven blanket that reminded him so much of his mother around his shoulders, closing his eyes and placing the half-empty liquor bottle onto the floor next to the couch. Tomorrow he would send the letter to Elain and return to his friends; even listening to Jurian and Vassa banter as foreplay until they inevitably hate-fucked each other would be better than this torture. 

He’d leave Elain to her freedom–he truly hoped she would get whatever it was that she wanted from this new life she’d never asked for. The Cauldron had taken everything from her and left nothing she wanted in its place. Not her fae body, not her fiance abandoning her, and definitely not Lucien. More than anything, he hoped she found her way here and found a way to be happy despite all the horrors she’d seen. She could have her Shadowsinger and their little winged babies, and three brothers could have their three sisters, and Lucien could have some peace. 

Perhaps breaking the bond would blessedly drive him insane, and he could be rid of this pain once and for all. This looming feeling of inadequacy would leave him, or at least he wouldn’t be aware of enough to know it existed in the first place. He had seen enough, and now it all felt like too much. Maybe being insane would be preferable to all this, he thought as he began to drift off. 

Just as sleep began to take him under, he heard a light tapping. What was that? It happened again, three quiet raps on his door. He rolled over, pulling the blanket tight against the knocking and the dawn light beginning to pour through the windows. But the knocks came again, louder this time. 

Shit, fine. 

Lucien groaned and rolled off the couch onto the floor with a grunt, the knocks still ringing through his apartment like a thumping heartbeat. He swayed as he tried to get to his feet, moving the bottle to the table and stumbling to the door. 

“Hang on, okay? I hear you, I hear you.” 

Lucien was not in a good place to deal with a neighbor complaining about the noises earlier, but he supposed he’d brought that upon himself. He undid the latch and threw the door open, the early daylight peaking in as he grimaced and covered his eyes. 

But there, against the soft light of the rising sun, stood Elain. She was haloed by it, the light shining off her tousled hair, her cloak thrown hastily over her shoulders, cheeks bright red from the cold and her breath freezing into clouds in the chilly morning air. 

“Elain–” he gasped out. 

“Happy Solstice, Lucien.” He was at a loss for words, like every thought in his head had ground to a horribly abrupt stop and there was nothing left but empty space and confusion. “I came to check on you. I felt…well, I’ve felt nothing but anguish down the bond for hours. I’ve never felt so much from you, and I got worried.” She said, shyly. 

He could have rammed his face through the wall; he was mortified beyond belief. For three years, he’d kept those carefully constructed walls up night and day to keep from torturing her. One drunk night and he’d plagued her all evening with his self-loathing. 

“Elain, I am so sorry. I drank a bit much last night. I never meant–” She held up a hand. 

“It’s quite alright. But are you okay?” This was more words than she’d spoken to him at once ever. Maybe more than she’d spoken to him altogether over the past three years. Strangely, she didn’t look put-upon–likely her years of training as a lady in society. His shame was oily and horrid, and he immediately went to reconstruct those walls around the twisting gold thread in his chest. She looked up at him, eyes wide and…disappointed?

“Uh, yes. I’m alright.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t even know you knew where I lived.” He tried to lighten the mood with a laugh, his default. He was still drunk and trying to focus when something so insane was happening was nearly impossible. Surely this wasn’t just a dream?

A blush painted over her beautiful, freckled cheeks. 

“Oh, I actually do. I’ve come by a few times, but I’ve never had the nerve to knock.” A stiff wind could have knocked him clean out. She’d come here? She looked embarrassed to admit it, but Lucien was still trying to make sense of things, gaping and looking insane in the doorway. “Might I come in? It’s a bit chilly.” 

“Oh, gods, Elain. Yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” He ushered her inside, kicking himself repeatedly for ruining this. “Can I get you some tea?” He was immediately ashamed of his apartment–everything so sparsely put together and nothing fancy for her. Without thinking, he tossed a ball of flame to the hearth, warming the room for her. 

“No, that’s fine. I just wanted to come and check on you. When I felt some of the emotions coming through, I worried you might be in danger…I couldn’t just ignore it.” 

“I am so sorry, Elain. Truly. I never intended for you to feel anything.” She looked down. 

“I know, Lucien. You’re always very vigilant.” The words left her tongue with a bit more bite than he had expected, but it was enough to sober him. 

Fuck the letter. He was doing this now. 

“Elain, do you want to break the bond? I planned to write and offer you the option today, but since you’re here, I’ll just say it.” Elain’s eyes shot to his, her expression heartbroken and appalled, and Lucien suddenly got the first spark of feeling down that faded, dim tether that he’d ever felt. Devastation. 

“Is that what you want?” Her voice was a whisper, but Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that barked out of him. 

“Me? Gods, no. You. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“No, Lucien. It is not.” He felt like he was living in a fever dream. Maybe he’d fallen into the Sidra on his way home from the tavern and was slowly freezing to death beneath the waves. 

“Don’t you want to be with Azriel?” It was her turn to huff a laugh out, looking incredulous. 

“Cauldron, no. You know he’s mated, right?” Lucien did not know. “Yes, to Gwyn, Nesta’s friend. I mean, for full disclosure, at one point, there was some…tension. But nothing ever became of it. And it was a year ago.” Lucien had never been at such a loss for what to say as they stood in the entryway of his small apartment. He hated the relief he felt, hated even more than in his drunken state, she could definitely tell. 

His mate was there, in his home, speaking to him. Laughing. Her scent filled every inch of space around him–he may never be able to sleep here again. Could he seal the doors and keep it forever?

“So, you don’t want to break the bond?” He asked, tentatively. She sighed, walking to the couch and dropping heavily down, her head in her hands. 

“Lucien, I am so sorry. I have made such an incredible mess of this. I imagine you’ll never forgive me, and I understand if you’ve had enough. I never meant to make you so miserable, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.” He must be hallucinating. How old had that liquor been?

“I was so lost at the beginning, so hateful and resentful. I had never wanted any of this, and for the longest time, every time I saw you, I was reminded of all that.” 

“I reminded you? But I gave you space, I–”

“It didn’t matter! You were just so fae.” She gestured up and down at him as if that made it make sense. “Your bright, braided hair, your beautiful eyes, your tailored, colorful clothes. You were so unequivocally inhuman that I couldn’t look at you without remembering.” He guessed that made sense. Human men were incredibly dull, and Lucien had always prided himself on his appearance. 

“After a long time, I just continued to push you away because I didn’t know how to fix the gap I’d made between us. I couldn’t admit I was wrong because it didn’t feel wrong that I’d been scared, but it did feel wrong to be apart from you. I just didn’t know how to fix it.” She got quiet at the end, and he came to sit on the table in front of her. 

“To accept you would have meant I was wrong, but it would have also meant I accepted everything that happened to me. It wasn’t fair, but it was what happened. I hate how horribly I’ve hurt you working through it all.” Her eyes were rimmed with tears as he looked at her. Elain. Here. Sitting on his couch mere inches from him and pouring her heart out at his feet. She laughed, somewhat mirthlessly, and met his eyes again. 

“You drove me mad. Bought me the most perfect gifts every single year. Not stupid, surface-level things, but things that told me you could see me when no one else could. The tea? How could you have possibly picked so many flavors and scents I love? You’re always there and you smell so good and it makes me want to act against every single thing I’ve ever been taught. I can hear the way your heart skips and races when you see me, and I hate that I know you can hear mine do the same. I hate to know that you feel how you affect me. I have no secrets; I have no defenses against you.” It had all come rushing out in a single breath, and she was left on the couch, panting and staring at him with wide eyes. 

Lucien stood, dumbstruck, jaw hanging and unable to form a thought let alone a sentence. Was this a joke? A dream?  

She stood too, pacing in front of the couch Lucien now stood next to, watching her like a male seeing the sun rise for the first time in his life. 

“More than anything, I hated how you always knew me. Knew what I needed, sunshine and the sea, while everyone else wanted to keep me inside. You knew the gifts I would love, the space that I would need. I knew you’d be there waiting for me, too. And I took you for granted, and that makes me the worst of all.” 

He wanted so badly to tell her it didn’t matter. If she truly felt this way, it didn’t matter. If he’d thought, even for a moment, that she’d just needed a bit more time, he’d have waited forever. He wanted to tell her he’d only offered to break the bond because he thought it’s what she wanted. He wanted to tell her he’d fall at her feet and stay there for the rest of their immortal lives if she wanted him. If she allowed him. 

“Elain, I–”

“Do you know I have your jacket?”

“My…What?”

“The one you wrapped around me when I was thrown from the Cauldron. I saved it. I folded it into a small box in the bottom of my closet. Sometimes I bring it out when I have nightmares and hold it close to my face, and it feels like you’re there with me.” 

Lucien was astonished, the beating of his heart and hers drowning out all remaining rational thought. Lucien hadn’t felt hope like this in centuries. 

“It’s starting to not smell like you anymore, and I can’t bear it,” she whispered.

Her eyes flicked back to his, and she took the smallest step forward. If his heart hadn’t been thundering like the hooves of a thousand running horses, he’d worry it had stopped entirely. All thought left him, all sense. In two long strides, he was across the room to her, her jaw in his hand and her eyes closed. 

“You smell like pine needles in the sun,” she whispered, her breath grazing his hand. He laughed through his grin, his thumb brushing across her cheek as she sighed and opened her eyes, soft brown like the leaves coating the forest floor in fall, to look into his own with a smile of her own. 

“If I offer you the moon on a string, Lucien, will you give me a kiss too?” He laughed again, not knowing whether or not Feyre had told her that tidbit or if she’d Seen it herself. But she smiled at his laugh, and the effect was blinding. 

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, before he could change his mind. 

Her lips were soft, soo incredibly soft, and her hands wound through his tangled hair immediately, pulling him closer. He was intoxicated with the smell of her, so close and unfiltered. It was Elain who ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, begging for entry as he used his hand to tilt her head slightly. The smallest noise left her throat, and Lucien had to call upon every single bit of restraint he’d ever mustered to hold himself back from tossing her over his shoulder. She must have heard the thought, felt it even, as he noticed his walls had crumbled down again. He felt a smattering of emotions from her, elation, relief, arousal. It was too much, it was not enough, it was perfect. 

They might have kissed for hours, days, or minutes, but it tapered down into soft, quick presses of their lips against each other as they steadied their beating hearts. 

“Would you like to get lunch with me today, Lucien?” Elain said, breathless as they pulled apart, but barely. 

“I would like nothing more, my lady” she smiled against his lips, smoothing her hand over his chest. He felt as though every breath had been drawn out of him, his lungs simply existing in a void where he floated blissfully on a cloud. 

“Then you better rest up. You’ve got about six hours to sleep, then I’ll be expecting you on the bridge by the market. We’ve got some catching up to do.” She pressed a small, wrapped parcel into his hand, then stood on tiptoes to give him another kiss on the jaw before walking back to the door, looking over her shoulder to say goodbye. 

“Happy Solstice, Lucien.” She smiled as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Lucien hoped beyond reason that this wasn’t a dream, but her lingering scent swirled around him as he let himself drop back to the couch. He looked down at the parcel in his hand, wrapped delicately in white and silver tissue paper, folded neatly at the seams and wrapped in a bow of twine. 

She’d given him a Solstice gift. 

He undid the bow carefully, fully planning to save every single aspect of this present as long as he lived. He peeled back the carefully folded corners of the paper, making sure not to rip it. Inside the beautiful paper was a folded, cream colored handkerchief. He picked it up and unfolded it to find the smallest embroidered fox in the corner, the colored threads somehow catching the mischievous glint in its eyes. Beneath it was a round piece of glass–no–resin. Pressed within it were bright Autumn leaves, layered in yellows, oranges, and crimsons held at the peak of their color forever, suspended in time. A piece of his very first home to have here and hold close. 

He’d never received such gifts in his life. They were both so perfectly him–things he would have been drawn to immediately at a market, but would never have bothered to purchase for himself. It made up for a million Solstices. 

He laid back on the couch, holding the gifts to his chest and closing his eyes as he drifted off, the smell of pear and honey wrapped around him like the yellow blanket that reminded him of days spent running through the woods of Autumn. 

I hope you get your ballroom floor

Your perfect house with rose red doors

I'm the last thing you'd remember

It's been a long lonely December

I wish I'd known that less is more

But I was passed out on the floor

That's the last thing I remember

It's been a long lonely December

December by Neck Deep

Cast me aside to show yourself in a better light

I came out grieving, barely breathing

And you came out alright

But I'm sure you'll take his hand

I hope he's better than I ever could have been

My mistakes were not intentions, this is a list of my confessions I couldn't say

Pain is never permanent but tonight it's killing me

[ennawrite]

decided to write a tamlain beauty & the beast inspired fic out of spite.

Here’s the first chapter! :)

The young woman’s heart sped up with every quickened step of her feet on the lush forest floor. That dark entity was gaining on her, and soon, her mind would be a victim to it. 

She raced through the dense canopy of trees, thorns and sharp branches nipped at her upper body. Ruby red blood dripped down her face and arms, landing in pools on the greenery. 

She had heard stories—no, nightmarish tales— of the Spring forest, but she’d chalked it up to folklore and hearsay. But gods, was she so very wrong. 

The young woman was almost to the edge of the forest—almost to the empty, freeing expanse of a clearing—when a long, thick root caught the toe of her boot. 

With a loud snap from her ankle, she toppled over, shrieking loudly as that searing pain filled her whole being. 

She tried to stand, but the break would not allow it. Crawling would be her best bet, but as dark whispers from the mist echoed around her, she realized with a heavy heart that there was no fleeing. This was it. 

The woman tried to steady her heavy breathing, tried to silence her futile cries. She willed her mind to stand strong against this twisted perpetrator, to stand against whatever it had to throw at her. 

In a flash, nasty, horrible words and voices filled the woods, blocking out any other sound. There were so many, too many. The woman pressed her hands against her ears and screamed, but the voices followed her. They were inside of her. 

There was no escaping. 

She crawled into a fetal position as the mist haunted her mind with familiar voices. Her mother. Her grandmother. People from her village. 

No. Not them. Anything but them. 

“You are and will forever be nothing, Elain.” 

“No man will ever love a girl so broken.” 

“This is all your fault. You did this.”

“They’re gone because of you, Elain.” 

Elain shook and sobbed against the forest floor, the tears fell down her face in steady streams. The locket hanging from her neck felt like icy flames against her chest and she ripped it from herself, casting it into the shrubbery. 

Those awful voices slowly twisted into her own as the dark mist engulfed her wholly. 

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. 

You did this. 

You killed them. 

You are nothing. 

Worthless. 

The thoughts were deafening, the grey air suffocating. She couldn’t take much more of it. She’d spent so many years pushing those feelings and thoughts down. Tried so hard to bury them. And now they were spilling out like lava.

Her body and head ached, but more importantly, her soul ached. Her heart had been broken for so many years, perhaps this was time for it to finally give out.

She found herself hoping this was it. That she would finally be rid of this life. She had lots of things to answer for in the next, but nothing could be as bad as this. 

Your fault, Elain. 

Stupid, broken girl.

You are better off dead. 

Just as she finally gave herself over completely to the monster that was her own conscience, a loud snarl sounded over the haunting echoes of her mind. 

You are wort—

A viscous growl cut off the voice, and then…

Nothing. 

[ryder-writes]

Sneak peak at a period comfort Lucien fic 👀

[nerdy-nightmare]

yet another addition to @itsargyle's whiteboard :3

i've never realized how little i talk about my listener characters 😔 if anyone wants to know about them please ask me!! I love them all so much :)

[matrixsss]

Mothers Words

For @lucienweekofficial Day 5: Home (ALREADY?) Read below or on AO3

Lucien is always searching for a home, somewhere put in the world. He has had many homes in the past, but none were his true home. As he lays in bed and thinks of how he belongs nowhere, not autumn, not spring and sure as hell not the night court. These places were his adoptive homes not his true homes. Is there even a place that he could call home? Is there really no place on this gods forsaken land that he can call his true home? These questions keep him up at night.   

He longs for a true home, a home that wants and accepts him for who he is. Is there even a place where he truly belongs? Is there a place that he can call his home? He knows these are all questions without an answer. Usually where there is a question there is an answer, but not for him it seems. Lucien hates thinking about this, but late at night when he can’t sleep the thoughts haunt him.   

Home is not a place whispers the wind, a soft familiar feminine voice carrying it to the red head lying on his bed. Lucien sits up, looking around his room, half expecting to find a ghost in the darkest corner. There is nothing in the room, it’s just him, alone. He scoffs, shaking his head before flopping down on the bed. He must’ve imagined the voice, yes of course he imagined it. Calming his racing heart, he turns on his side hoping sleep will take him soon.   

“Lucien.” His mother Adrianna calls him with a soft smile and open arms. He sees himself, not as he is now, his younger self leaps up to his feet and run towards her. His arms wrap tightly around her waist, his head pressed to her stomach. She laughs lightly, running a hand down his hair.  

‘Come, it’s time for bed little fireling.” She says leading his younger self through the Forest house towards his room at the far end of the hallway that was littered with bedrooms of his older brothers. They scare him so he refuses to look up, instead electing to look at the floor as he walks with his mother. Lucien looks at the scene before him from far away, grimacing at the memories that this house holds. Suddenly his mother looks behind her shoulder, giving Lucien a soft smile as if she knew he was there. He knows the smile is not directed at him, she can’t see him, this is just a memory.   

He watches as his mother tucks his younger self into bed, pressing a light kiss on his forehead before sitting up. “Can you tell me a story?” Little him speaks shyly, hoping that this time his mother would tell him a bed night story. Adrianna smiles, she is for once relaxed, without fear and he can see that. His father and brothers are out on a hunting trip and are not to return tonight.   

“There once was a young man, --” She starts with a light sigh. “-- who never knew where his true home was. He searched low and far for a place to call home. Yet nowhere he went felt like home. The young man travelled and kept wandering around in search of that special place to call home. A place that awakes a feeling of belonging. Every night he would wonder if he will ever finds a place to call home. One night on his travels, he encounters a golden soul, ghostly but beautiful. For a moment he wonders if the being will attack him, but she doesn’t. She tells him something important, something that will help him find a way to his true home.” He sees himself slowly nodding off as Adrianna pauses his story, brushing away the stray hairs on his forehead.   

“What... did... she... say... to... him?” He questions slowly, sleepily. Sleep will soon take him. Aurelia giggles lightly, leaning down to whisper the answer in his ear.   

“Home is not a place, it’s a person, a person that accepts you for who you are and makes you feel happy. That is a home.” His younger self is fast asleep as Adrianna sits up, looking at the child with love and a deep sense of sadness.   

“I truly hope you find that in life, my little fox.”   

Lucien shots up in bed for the second time, only this time the sun has risen and is encasing the room in its soft, warm light. He reels from the memory of his childhood, he looks to his right to the window. Watching as the birds fly freely in the sky. Lucien smiles, a sense of relief filling his body. He finally knows where and who his true home is.   

“Thank you.” He whispers into the wind, hoping his message reaches his lovely mother and that it gives her strength.   

[st4rrmii]

Summary:Isla Nublar had burned, along with all the dinosaurs on it, including a certain Ankylosaurus.

Ratings:General, animal death warning, lotsa angst

[the-darklings]

Hi I found coa a while back and I’m obsessed with it and I was wondering if you’ll ever work on it again? No pressure or anything just curious

heyo

first, thank you for reading. second, it’s honestly unlikely i’ll return to coa. jw4 did the opposite of inspiring me — it was a massive let down and it kinda killed my hype for the franchise :// I think i’m at a point where i’m done fooling myself and can admit that the characters in that series have outgrown coa boundaries.

however, if you like coa you might be happy to hear but all all original characters in that series, including v herself, are main characters in the original novel series i’m working on.