messybunsandarmor

[messybunsandarmor]

One of my closest friends @freyjas-musings surprised me with this GORGEOUS Elucien birthday gift today! Thank you so much @freyjas-musings for this beautiful gift. I’m so thankful that we met all those years ago and became friends. You’ve been one of the few people to help keep me sane in this crazy fandom! I love you bunches 🩷🩷 thank you for all your love and support 🩷🩷

And thank you so much @brielyasmin for creating this beautiful artwork. Elain and Lucien look STUNNING 🥹🥹 your artwork always blows me away with its beauty!!

Characters belong to Sarah J Maas

[messybunsandarmor]

(Channeling my disappointment over not getting an announcement into little weekly Eluciens.)

Her breath hitched as she felt him, there in her most secret place. Her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching tightly as his tongue slid over her. She gasped, breath coming fast and uneven. She arched into him, into his mouth, his face. His moans reverberating through her body like music made just for her.

She needed this. Needed him.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice breaking with desperation. “Please.”

His hands roamed her body, one sliding up to cup her breast, squeezing with aching need. She cried out, the sound unrestrained, needy.

She wanted him. All of him.

It was building, faster, harder. A tidal wave rising inside her. She couldn’t stop it even if she tried.

“Yes. Lucien.”

His name tore from her lips as—

Elain jolted awake, panting, sweat cooling on her skin, her bedsheets twisted around her. Alone.

“Fucking hell. “

She sat up in bed, kicking off her sheets with a huff. Every night. Every. Single. Night of this entire week and for the past few weeks. These dreams, these thoughts, this endless wanting. And she hadn’t even seen him in months.

Lucien.

She had hoped, prayed, really, that he would ask her to accompany him to Nesta’s mating ceremony tonight. The thought had lingered for too long, and one evening, with cheeks flushed from wine and laughter, she’d confessed it to her sisters in a rare moment of vulnerability.

Nesta, never one to shy away from bold advice, especially halfway through their second bottle, had told her to stop waiting and do something about it. “Just ask him to dance, Elain. Males can be idiots.”

Elain had realized then he wasn’t going to invite her to the ceremony. Of course he wasn’t. He usually just blushed awkwardly when she was around. Whenever she was around, which wasn’t often and that was as much her fault as his. If not more, she cringed.

Feyre had grinned, with a knowing gleam in her eye to speak of Autumn Court males, of the fire that ran in their blood, of how they loved, fierce and consuming and how they…

Elain had shivered, not from the chill in the room, but from the way her body responded to the thought of it. Of him.

It was sinful how badly she needed to know what that fire felt like.

But a true lady wouldn’t ask… right?

Especially one who had barely ever spoken to him. And how in the world was she supposed to converse normally with someone she fantasized about? That would be too forward. Too weird. Too unlike her. And god’s, if he could scent her arousal, she would die of embarrassment.

Still, as the sun began its slow climb outside her window, Elain wondered if Nesta had a point. Maybe, just maybe, she needed to stop waiting for Lucien to make the first move.

Because one thing was clear; he wasn’t going to cross that line.

So perhaps she could be brave she thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the pearl earrings.

The ceremony was lovely.

Everything about it glowed, lanterns floating overhead in soft shades of rose and gold, flickering like stars as twilight deepened into night. Flowers bloomed across every surface, enchantments keeping them fresh and full, their perfume mingling with the scent of wine and bonfire smoke. The music was bold and lively, and laughter carried across the open-air celebration. It was elegant, yes, but also wild and carefree, fitting for Nesta and Cassian. A little elegant, a little feral. Exactly right.

Elain stood by the dance floor, the hem of her soft light blue gown brushing against her ankles, feathers and gossamer drifting with her every breath. Her hair tumbled in curls over her shoulders, pinned just enough to stay out of her eyes, and her lips were tinted with the faintest shimmer. She had never felt more exposed and never more prepared to be seen.

She hadn’t laid eyes on Lucien since Solstice, not since that awful, tangled mess of emotions, confusion, and silence that had followed. But after her failed attempt to seduce Azriel had backfired spectacularly, and she’d been forced to confront the humiliation born from her own stubbornness, the guilt had set in not just for putting Azriel in that position, but for doing it while Lucien had been in the house. The bond wasn’t his fault any more than it was hers. And afterward, after the dust had settled and the ache had dulled, her feelings toward the bond, toward Lucien, had started to shift. Especially as she watched her sisters with their mates, saw how Nesta had found something fierce and grounding in her connection to Cassian. Elain couldn’t help wondering if maybe, there was something real and worth exploring in what tied her to her mate, too.

Her body reacted before her eyes found him, before her gaze lifted from her drink to scan the crowd. A prickle of awareness raced up her spine, like a whisper brushing against her skin.

And there he was.

Tall, graceful, utterly magnetic. He wore a deep crimson tunic embroidered in black and gold, the colors catching the light when he moved. The cut framed his broad shoulders and tapered waist perfectly. He looked a tad rakish but impeccably put together, every line of his clothing tailored to hint at the strength beneath.

Her stomach twisted. Relief flooded her, almost dizzying in its intensity that he was here. Close.

A deep sigh left her lips as she tried to muster her courage.

She downed the last of her whiskey and immediately regretted it. The burn seared her throat, made her eyes sting.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Not to get her legs moving. Not to get her through the storm of nerves and doubt and want roiling inside her.

So she went back to the bar. And this time, she ordered two.

Her fingers tightened around the glasses as she turned, scanning the room until she found him again. He was leaning against a table near the edge of the dance floor, watching the celebration with a look she couldn’t quite decipher, indifference maybe.

He looked so calm. So completely in control. Which was maddening, really, when she was anything but. Did he dream of her the way she dreamt of him?

Heart pounding, she crossed the room.

Her heels clicked softly on the stone. Her dress shimmered around her legs. She knew the moment he spotted her, his head turned slightly, his body tensing almost immediately.

And then she was standing in front of him.

Without a word, she set the two glasses of amber liquid on the table between them. One for him. One for her.

Lucien raised a brow, straightening a little. “What’s this?”

She gave him a small, tilted smile more confident than she really felt. “For courage,” she said, her voice light but low.

He huffed a laugh at that. A real one. A little surprised, a little intrigued. He picked up his glass. She did the same.

He drank it in one smooth motion, throat bobbing. So easy.

She tried to match him but couldn’t.

The liquid hit her tongue and she coughed, choking just slightly as the burn spread through her chest. Why the hell couldn’t she just be smooth?!

Lucien smiled in an almost teasing way, but not unkind.

“You drink whiskey, lady?” he asked, his voice smooth and rich, amusement danced in his sight. That smirk would be the death of her.

She swallowed and tried not to wince. “You drink whiskey.” she winced.

He gave a slow nod, lips twitching. “Fair.”

For a heartbeat, they stood searching each other’s eyes, the music thudding behind them like a pulse. it was loud and the lyrics were improper, definitely a song Cassian had picked.

And then, she reached deep into the bond between them and silently willed her words to him. Will you dance with me?

Lucien blinked, surprise breaking across his features like sunlight through clouds. He stared at her, truly stared But slowly, he smiled. A soft warm smile that, for a moment, stole every thought she’d ever had. She shuddered

Lead the way, he replied straight to her soul.

She walked past him, but in a moment of unexpected courage probably the whiskey , Elain grabbed his hand. Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat, as she wrapped her fingers around his and led him toward the dance floor. The boldness of it startled her, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips as she felt the heat of his skin against hers.

The music was fast when they stepped onto the dance floor. Too fast. She was about to retreat, to laugh it off and try again later.

But the beat shifted.

Something slower, softer began to play. A haunting, intimate melody that melted the noise around them like wax.

Elain turned instinctively and spotted Nesta across the room, watching with a smug, knowing smile.

Of course she had done this.

And then Lucien’s hand found her waist.

His touch was careful. Gentle, but firm. He drew her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other wrapping around her fingers, holding her like she was something rare and precious. She reminded herself to breathe.

They began to sway, moving together as if they’d done it before, as if the space between them hadn’t always been filled with silence and missed chances.

The world faded away. The crowd, the music, the lights. There was only him and her. His warmth. His scent. The steady rhythm of his breathing. Them. She inhaled deeply.

And then, his breath against her ear.

“I didnt think you wanted this.”

His voice was quiet. Intimate. The kind of question meant just for her.

“I didnt think I wanted this either.”

Elain tilted her head back to look up at him. Her heart was thudding in her chest, but she smiled softly.,“until I did.”

Lucien stared down at her. And something in his expression shifted, something deep and quiet and aching.

He didn’t respond. Not with words.

Instead, he pulled her just a little closer. And she let him, holding him even tighter.

And the bond, once quiet, hummed between them like a chord being struck. Not loud. Not demanding.

Just present.

Steady.

Warm.

Real.

[messybunsandarmor]

That SJM interview wasn’t giving “something’s coming”. It was more like “you better keep yourselves busy with those new audiobooks because that’s all you’re getting for a while.”

Just my two cents 🤷‍♀️

[messybunsandarmor]

“Please don’t tell Elain,” he said.

Those are Lucien’s first words to Feyre after she learns he was SA’d — and they’re absolutely heartbreaking.

Instead of focusing on his own pain or seeking comfort, his instinct is to protect someone else. It shows just how little he thinks his own hurt matters. There’s so much shame in that one sentence — misplaced, but deeply rooted — like he thinks his trauma somehow makes him unworthy in Elain’s eyes. He’s been carrying this alone for so long, and even when it finally comes out, his first reaction is fear, not relief. He doesn’t want Elain to see him as broken, or lose whatever fragile hope she might represent to him. She’s become this symbol of something good, something healing — and he’s terrified of ruining that.

This moment completely shifts how we see Lucien. It’s not just a quiet confession — it’s a moment of painful self-erasure.

[messybunsandarmor]

Angsty Lucien Hallucinates Jesminda

I originally wrote this for the multi-chapter Elucien fic I'm working on, but decided to go in a different direction from this scene I wrote. I thought I'd share it as its own little snippet. Let me know what you think:

Lucien winnowed away from the river house. He felt the familiar cool of damp grass under and around his boots, but registered nothing else. His feet moved through the evening glade of the Spring Court, but his mind was submerged in emptiness, his vision blurry.

After a while, he found himself before the pool of starlight. He simply stared at it for long moments. He felt neither grief nor tranquility; he was simply there.

His irreverent fog was broken by the frantic whirring of his eye as he looked out upon the water and saw a figure—a female.

He approached slowly, taking in more of her features as he drew near. Her dark hair was illuminated by the starlight pool, her lithe beauty so familiar to him. He squinted. Perhaps, it was a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that her facial features were that of...

The female began to dance in the water.

Lucien ran.

He could see her clearly now. The bright blue of her eyes, like lightning cracking above a depthless ocean. Her face crinkled into a smile and he fell to his knees at the poolside.

No wings.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should have just left you alone.” His voice cracked.

To his horror, she began to slowly descend into the starlight pool, but her face remained calm, "”It’s okay. This is how it has to be. I’ll always be here if you need me.”

His good eye blinked rapidly through his weeping, desperate to drink in the sight of her for as long as he could. "I'm sorry. I miss you—I miss you so—so—" He couldn't finish before a shuddering cry tore from his throat. Jesminda finally descended below the surface of the starlight pool.

Lucien collapsed, clawing his way to her from the water's edge, crying miserably. He felt his face dip beneath the surface, not to be interrupted save for his desperate sputtering for air between sobs. He didn't care that he was soaking—nearly drowning—he couldn't get close enough to her. 

"Each day is another step closer to you finding your way back to me."

The sound of her parting words echoed in his mind long after she had faded from view. He didn't know how long he'd stayed there, sobbing beneath the surface of the pool, looking after her.

Rough hands yanked him from the water and Lucien let his lungs fill with oxygen before shouting, "No!" He struggled against the grip, thrashing and punching. "No!"

"You crazy prick! Are you drunk?"

Hearing the voice was like a blow to the head. Once Lucien stilled, Tamlin set him down on the ground a good distance from the starlight pool. His eye made a terrible racket as he looked out at the body of water. He somehow knew that if he were to return there, he would not find Jesminda. She was gone.

Lucien faced Tamlin, only to find his back turned, walking in the opposite direction from the manor.

"Go home, Lucien."

[messybunsandarmor]

I feel like it's so easy for Lucien's story to get lost in the chaos of the main characters arc but when you pull apart what Sarah has given us for him it's wild to me that anyone doesn't think he could be possibly be next:

ACOWAR:

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word. I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye.

Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness. That conversation, that confrontation—it would take place at another time. Another day, or week, or month.

Helion was the last of the High Lords to arrive. I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side.

ACOFAS

His jaw worked as he studied the fire. Fire. His mother’s gift. Not his father’s. Yes, it was Beron’s gift. The gift of the father who the world believed had sired him. But not the gift of Helion. His true father. I still hadn’t mentioned it. To anyone other than Rhys. Now wasn’t the time for that, either.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Before I could object, he said, “You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit. And as for here …

“Tamlin sent it to our manor yesterday,” Lucien hissed. “My clothes. My belongings. All of it. He had it sent from the Spring Court and dumped on the doorstep.”

I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it. Not yet. Possibly not ever. “Why?” It was the only question I could think to ask. “Perhaps it had something to do with your mate’s visit the other day.” My spine stiffened. “Rhys didn’t involve you in that.” “He might as well have. Whatever he said or did, Tamlin decided he wishes to remain in solitude.” His russet eye darkened. “Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.” “I can’t say I’m particularly sorry that he did.” “You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.” I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. “My business with him is done.” “Yours might be, but Rhys’s isn’t. And you’d do well to remind your mate of that fact.”

ACOSF

Cassian ignored him, and asked Lucien, “How’s the Spring Court?” Lucien’s face revealed nothing of how Tamlin and his court fared. “It’s fine.” Cassian didn’t know why he’d expected an update regarding the High Lord of Spring. Lucien only gave those in private to Rhys.

“But Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he’s barely improved this past year. Learning of Feyre’s pregnancy might make him crumble again. With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court’s forces.”

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

“I would like to remove myself from the Mask’s odious presence, and perhaps enjoy your palace, Rhysand. It’s been a long while since I was in a place of such quiet. If you’ll allow it, I’ll stay here for an hour or two.” “Something bothering you at home?” Rhys inquired, falling into step beside the High Lord.

“How’s the Spring Court?” Nesta asked. Lucien’s jaw tightened. “How you’d expect.” Tension rippled through the room, confirmation that Tamlin had heard the news of Feyre’s pregnancy. From Lucien’s grim face, she knew he hadn’t reacted well.

It seems long overdue to resolve the fallout between Lucien and Tamlin, the downfall of the Spring Court and the reveal that Helion is Lucien's father and that's not even accounting for the control he's been maintaining over his bond despite the struggles he's felt because of it.

[messybunsandarmor]

@theangryhistoriananna left a comment on one of my recent posts regarding Lucien and how certain parts of the fandom treat him and it just got me thinking.

Lucien is not the court jester of this series. He's not there to be the emotional punching bag for every single other character just because some believe Sarah decided to choose just one person to target.

Lucien was not created to lose his mate to Az, Lucien came BEFORE Az.

Lucien was not written to lose his mate to the guy who has physically abused him, a character Lucien and Lucien alone has tried to pull from his depression since ACOWAR.

Lucien was not written as having experienced the worse loss in love that any other character in this series has experienced only to then lose his only remaining chance at the purest sort of love after that loss (an author does not write a main character as witnessing the death of who he thought was his forever only to also lose the person who was actually created to be his forever). He's not been drug through everything he has just for the author to give him the consolation prize of a fandom imagined romance with the friend he's been living with because he had nowhere else to go but has no romantic inclination towards.

The difference between Elucien's and E/riels is that Eluciens do not think Lucien deserves happiness at the expense of Az's happiness. They imagine Az getting the exact same thing as Lucien, an amazing mating bond just like the other main characters of the series have been given. In contrast, E/riels believe that Az deserves his happiness regardless of whether it comes at the expense of another characters mate. Where only Az is the winner out of the two males and Lucien can just deal with whatever scraps are leftover. No offense to Vassa, seriously, but let's not pretend Sarah has written her to be anything close to how she's written Elain. Vassa could easily be considered a throw away character at this point (though she's still more important than the wraiths), her only relevancy thus far is Koschei having kidnapped her for unknown reasons whereas Elain has clearly been set up to become a central figure to the series in the same way Nesta and Feyre have been.

The downfall of certain people in this fandom will be assuming that Az is somehow more important to Sarah than Lucien is, that Az will get the best of the best while Lucien can just get whatever is left. There's a reason that Lucien (not Az) has been in every single book within the ACOTAR series. There's a reason Sarah made sure to pull Lucien from Spring when she could have easily left him there and begun writing him off. There's a reason that in book 3 he suddenly became 1st in line to a High Lords throne (not the 7th from a different court). There's a reason Sarah wrote Az and Cassian sparring in SF, with both on equal footing, while she had Lucien command Cassian with a single word without breaking a sweat while sitting on a pink couch and looking fine as fuck while doing it.

Is Lucien a better guy than Az? To Sarah, no. (I myself would be giving a different answer to that). To Sarah, they are equal so there is NO WAY that Az is getting the ultimate love story while Lucien gets a second rate one and every single person in this fandom knows that a love story with Gwyn (for Az) and Elain (for Lucien) would be far superior for both than E/riel and Vassien.

[messybunsandarmor]

I know people say that the rejected mates story exploration will be Helion and LoA (I’m also a fan of the Eris and Mor theories personally).

But is it not also possible that the consideration for rejected mating bonds (other than the obvious provision of agency for the characters) is a plot device because Elucien’s story hasn’t happened yet and the reader shouldn’t just automatically assume that they’ll end up together because they’re mates?

They’re gonna get there, but not just yet! How boring would it be if the story went “they’re mates and that’s that. Happily ever after.” No! The sprinkles of doubt are part of the journey. She’s gotta keep the readers on their toes until she’s ready to show us how they end up together.

“ SJM said it herself that she WANTS to write about a rejtected mating bond”

Then proceeds to send me an interview where she says “I’m not going to say if I am exploring it in future books or not,” she continues, “but it definitely offers a wealth of things to explore with this concept of freewill and what is true love. Is it something that’s destined? Or is it something that you make? Is it both?”

Whatever helps you sleep at night girl

[messybunsandarmor]

[messybunsandarmor]

#elucien #metoolucien

Peak Masculinity 🌼

[messybunsandarmor]

#elucien #myhighlordandlady

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The Fox and the Fawn

My gift to everyone! What better than to have my favorite couple as a present to myself on my birthday! Our future High Lord and High Lady of the Day Court, surrounded and shrouded in what Sarah said they both love best—nature (and each other).

@kotikomori I am completely blown away by this piece and I cannot thank you enough for your attention to detail and the ample talent that you have. This piece is so special to me and I am so glad that you were the one who painted it for me!

ART CREDIT @kotikomori

COMMISSIONED BY @oristian

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

@elucienweekofficial

[messybunsandarmor]

#elucien #DELICIOUS

Lucien has absolutely no rizz when it comes to Elain... like where did the male I fell in love with in book one go? Maybe I should fix that. Just not now. Cause this has been stuck in my head for a while.

Lucien choked on his water when he saw Elain. His mate.

Instead of the frilly, delicate dresses she usually wore, today she wore pants. Black leggings, to be exact. Soft fabric that molded perfectly to her ass and legs.

Lucien’s brain short-circuited. He barely managed to jerk his gaze down before her family could catch him blatantly staring at her bottom. He fixed his attention on the table, gripping his glass like a lifeline.

This was cruel. Elain Archeron had always been beautiful, but now—now she was actively testing his self-control.

She carried a large basket full of blankets, her voice soft and lilting as she spoke with Nesta. Lucien swallowed hard as he realized she wasn’t just folding any blanket. She was folding his blanket.

His.

The one that laid on his bed only a few hours ago.

His entire body tensed as she flattened it against her chest, smoothing out the fabric before neatly folding it. His blanket—pressed against her body, absorbing her scent, her warmth. No wonder his bed at the River House always smelled like his mate if this was how she folded the laundry.

Lucien forced himself to take a slow, measured breath, but it did nothing to steady the heat surging through him.

“Elain,” Nesta said dryly, not even glancing up from the book she was flipping through, “I think you’re about to make Lucien explode.”

Elain turned her head, blinking in surprise. “What?”

Lucien nearly knocked over his glass. “Nothing!” he said hastily. “Absolutely nothing.” He shot Nesta a glare, but the eldest Archeron sister merely smirked, flipping another page.

Elain, oblivious as ever, simply returned to folding, humming softly.

Lucien was doomed.

Then, to make matters worse, she reached for another blanket—another of his—and did the same thing. Pressed it against her chest, smoothed it out, folded it slowly.

His mate was unknowingly killing him.

Cassian, seated across from Lucien, finally took pity on him and leaned in. “You’re staring,” he murmured, amusement thick in his voice.

“I know,” Lucien hissed.

Cassian chuckled. “You should say something. Or at least stop acting like a lovesick idiot.”

Lucien shot him a withering look. “I am not—”

Elain suddenly turned to him, her soft hazel eyes filled with warmth. “Lucien, would you mind carrying these upstairs for me?” She gestured to the now neatly folded stack of blankets.

Lucien felt Cassian’s barely suppressed laughter beside him.

“Of course,” Lucien said, clearing his throat. He stood a little too quickly, ignoring the way his legs felt like jelly.

Elain smiled at him—genuine, sweet, utterly devastating. “Thank you,” she said, turning away again.

Lucien clenched his jaw.

He was so, so doomed.

_____________________

Lucien carried the stack of blankets upstairs, his arms tense, his mind an absolute battlefield. Every damn one smelled like her. Like wildflowers warmed by the sun, soft vanilla, and something uniquely Elain. It was intoxicating. Maddening.

He reached the guest room and carefully set the blankets down on the neatly made bed. He should leave. He needed to leave.

Instead, he hesitated.

His fingers curled into the soft fabric of the top blanket—his blanket—and before he could stop himself, he lifted it slightly, bringing it closer.

One inhale. Just one.

Lucien’s eyes nearly rolled back.

It was her.

Sun-warmed honey, the faintest hint of jasmine, and the lingering scent of freshly baked bread—like she’d been in the kitchen that morning. But underneath it, beneath all of that softness, was something deeper. Something warmer. Something that made his body tighten and his instincts snarl with satisfaction.

His mate.

Lucien exhaled sharply, shoving the blanket back into place like it had burned him. What the hell was he doing? Standing here like a lunatic, sniffing blankets like some love-starved fool? He scrubbed a hand over his face, silently cursing himself.

But then—

“Lucien?”

His spine went rigid. Slowly, slowly, he turned.

Elain stood in the doorway, head tilted slightly, watching him.

Panic shot through him. Had she seen? Had she—

Her gaze flicked to the blankets.

Lucien straightened so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. “I was just—” He cleared his throat. “Making sure they’re, um. Folded properly.”

Elain blinked. Then, to his utter horror, her lips twitched.

“Were they not up to your standards?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice.

Lucien opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His brain had completely shut down.

Elain took a step closer, her eyes far too knowing. “I can refold them if you’d like.”

Lucien backed up a step, nearly tripping over the edge of the bed. “That’s not necessary.”

She bit her lip—like she was holding back a laugh.

Mother above, she knew.

Lucien was going to go throw himself off the House of Wind. Just as soon as he got out of this bedroom and away from his mate.

Lucien swallowed hard, straightened his shoulders, and forced his legs to move. He strode past her as quickly as he could without looking like he was running for his life.

But just as he passed, just as he thought he’d escaped, Elain murmured softly, “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know.”

Lucien bolted.

[messybunsandarmor]

#elucien #adorable

Elucien 84

84. “Going somewhere?” by CRMediaGal

Lucien slunk towards the open archway, backing out of the cozy sitting room whilst spirits were high and the rowdy Inner Circle were distracted by their annual gift exchange...as well as their growing, collective inebriation. In his case, it was fairly easy to slip away unnoticed—or so it had been during all of the previous Solstice celebrations the Emissary had attended with this rather cold, indifferent group when it came to him.

After all, he didn't belong here. He never had.

But a beneficial friendship with the High Lady of the Night Court, no matter how estranged, saw the hopelessly infatuated male trying against hope (and his better judgement, he supposed) to bridge the tense gap between him and the High Lady's older sister, Elain.

She still happened to be his mate. And she still hadn't bothered to reject the bond.

At this point, Lucien hadn't a ruddy clue why. She barely looked at him when he did make an occasional appearance in Velaris, mostly out of obligation to Rhysand, the High Lord.

But also her.

Lucien had tried for three Solstices to get the Made Fae to so much as glance at him without open discomfort. Without curling in on herself as if his presence pained her. Without indicating through her repeated silences that he was exhausting his efforts.

And yet, here you are, he relented, jaw tightening as he forced his sad stare from his fetching mate, standing behind a couch across the room—as far away from him as possible, of course—and softly laughing with Nesta, Cassian and Mor.

Her family. Not his. Not ever.

What did you expect? That things would miraculously shift in your favor? Three pathetic years was enough of trying, surely?

Thus, a dismayed Lucien slipped out of the room and well before the festivities were over, with Elain's gift still stuffed in his side pocket. No point in embarrassing himself yet again...and watching her reluctantly accept his latest futile attempt to win her favor but without any of the joy he craved to receive.

Lucien headed for the foyer to collect his winter coat, determined to take a biting stroll through the snowy, winding streets of Velaris alone rather than spend another minute trapped in this stifling house where he remained a stranger. Getting your stupid, damned hopes up once more.

Lucien had just finished buttoning his burgundy and rust-colored plaid coat and was wrapping a thick scarf around his neck when a voice—her voice, hushed but sweet like honey—stopped him dead in his tracks. In spite of the toasty atmosphere, he shuddered.

"Going somewhere?"

He swiftly turned to discover Elain standing only feet from him. There was none of the glancing elsewhere in the room to avoid his gaze; or fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Her look was direct and focused, those beautifully soft brown eyes set against an abundance of golden curls that lovingly framed her face.

She was providing his attire careful consideration. And she was alone. Unaccompanied by either of her sisters to act as chaperons...or, more often than not, convenient buffers.

In slow motion Lucien lowered his hands to his side. "Yes, m'lady."

There was a thoughtful pause in which her regard swept over him from head to toe and back to head again. "Where to?" she eventually inquired, taking a notable step closer.

Lucien froze, dumbfounded. This was the most she had spoken to him since the Battle of Hybern...three years ago.

"My apartment," he answered rather stiffly, uncertain of what to make of this curious development. He dared not breathe incorrectly.

Elain angled her head, her bouncy curls drifting with that small bit of movement. "Then where?"

"To..." Lucien halted, his mechanical eye giving a sharp click.

Why should he tell her? Wouldn't she just run to inform her sister and the High Lord? Then again, he reckoned, let them be 'bothered' by any mention of their supposed enemy still residing in the ruined territory Feyre had long ago destroyed.

Lucien straightened his spine but revealed, "To Spring."

"Oh."

Odd. There was none of the disgust and disappointment Lucien had anticipated. Rather, Elain's expression remained entirely neutral.

"To visit your friend?"

Lucien shifted his feet and settled for placing his hands behind his back. "He's alone on Solstice."

"That's good of you to keep him company."

Lucien raised his eyebrows, earning a fleeting blush to Elain's fair cheeks. She was such a puzzle to piece together and no more so than at this very moment.

After more painful silence, however, Lucien could take no more. Her soulful eyes, her slightly parted, pink lips... Everything about Elain Archeron made Lucien's heart sore.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head, offering a quiet, "Happy Solstice," in parting.

There was no point in prolonging the awkwardness that was their—her—unfortunate predicament, especially since the female hadn't made any moves to change the situation. He grabbed a hold of the front door handle, intending to leave, when she suddenly shocked him by interrupting his departure.

"Wait."

When Lucien's head snapped towards her, he found her arm extended. To him. His heart thumped and he instinctively gripped the handle tighter.

"Please," she whispered and tread closer, his own reflection soon morphing in her doeful eyes. She had come so close that he could practically feel her breaths on his neck. "Would you... Would you reconsider...changing your plans?"

"'Changing my plans'?" Lucien found himself repeating, his own eyes narrowing in suspicion. And utter bafflement.

She gave an unhelpful nod and craned her neck up at him, offering a slim but thoughtful smile that nearly saw Lucien's heart stopping altogether. "Stay?" she stunned the male into silence by requesting. "For another day or two?"

Lucien blinked. Several times. The question escaped his trembling lips before his scrambled thoughts could grasp any scrap of understanding, "Why?"

It was an agonizing while before she finally spoke, though her eyes never drifted from his. "Because I don't want you to be a stranger, Lucien."

Her throat bobbed nervously. Then the warm encasing of her hand was curling around his arm, her fingers molding perfectly to the fine fabric of his coat. Her touch, even with his coat obstructing skin-on-skin contact, was soothing, peculiarly familiar. It felt like...home.

"I never did."

What the—

The unexpected gentle peck to his cheek was quick, shy, and purposeful. And the reactive shimmer that crossed Lucien's russet eye matched the newfound glow radiating from Elain's face.

"If it isn't too forward of me to ask, could your friend spare you for a few more days?"

Lucien searched Elain's soft features, still gobsmacked. He hardly trusted the sound of his own voice once he managed to hoarsely reply, "I...suppose so."

And just like that, Lucien found himself helplessly being drawn away from the front door and back down the hallway to rejoin the others, with a quietly strong-willed Elain now on his arm. Her gaze shifted away from him momentarily when they reentered the sitting room moments later arm-in-arm, but Lucien 's sidelong glance didn't miss the openly relieved, happy smile his mate wore for all to see.

'I don't want you to be a stranger, Lucien. I never did.'

Lucien chanced a shaky breath and fiddled with the gift that remained in his pocket. Maybe there was hope for them, after all.

[messybunsandarmor]

Happy Valentines Day! 💚🥰

Hope you find this as cute as I do. 🤭

What if Lucien and Elain had decided to take some time to get to know one another before telling anyone? Something just for the two of them with less pressure. Ce helped me capture Lucien dropping her off from one of their dates. It would be a shame if anyone were to witness such a thing. 🦇

Amazing artwork by @luciensdefenseattorney 👏👏👏

Commissioned by me