#elucien ficlet

[animezinglife]

Secrets in the Night

If there's anything Elain has learned during her time in Prythian, it's that some secrets are best kept hiding in plain sight.

Genre: Romance/Fluff/What-If? Post-canon Elucien ficlet with a small dash of Regencycore. More Elucien fics can be found through my masterlist or on AO3. As always, I want to give a shout-out to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, and everyone else who's been so supportive of these small, humble fics. You've all helped make writing fun for me again, and I sincerely appreciate it!

Everything about this crowd is alive. From the colorful dresses of the females to the glittering lights hovering above and illuminating the rooms, everything about this Solstice celebration that doubles as Feyre's birthday gathering is stunning. There’s a vibrant hum from the crowd as Elain smiles and weaves through them, trying to keep the way her eyes wander subtle. 

She feels him near before she sees him. 

Hears his heartbeat through these walls, echoing through her body as if it were her own.

She doesn’t need to follow the sound. Not for long.

She’s shrouded in his scent–that familiar blend of embers, earth, and cinnamon–before he even speaks.

“Good evening, Lady.” His voice is a low timbre that echoes through her, and she feels a hint of heat prickling at her cheeks and core. She turns, her skirts swishing in the process as she takes in his form. Mother, he is devastating: part of his molten hair is pulled back at the crown, with the rest flowing over the collar of his finely-tailored jacket in a cascade of red silk. It’s a sharp, fiery contrast to the dark green of the jacket, and the subtle golden thread woven at the collar and cuffs seems to only enhance the gold and russet of his eyes. 

“Lucien.” There’s a knowing gleam in those eyes as he offers her a slight, courtly bow. She gives an equal curtsy in response, entranced by the way the corners of his mouth twitch upward and curve into a smile.

The bond hums between them, pulsing so loudly in her mind she thinks surely others must hear it. Yet all around them the Night Court’s guests carry on with their evening, laughing and drinking and chattering without notice.

Of course, Elain knows both she and her mate know better: know it’s rare that Feyre and Rhys aren’t aware of everything happening within their own walls. They know that Nesta is always watching like a hawk, and that Azriel has eyes–and spies–everywhere. Nothing hides in the shadows here.

She’s been cautious where Lucien is concerned–there are no secrets there, not truly. They’ve simply mixed some truths while not divulging others, and as far as either of her sisters know–as far as Elain can tell–they’ve grown to accept that she’s no longer willing to let the circumstances of their mating bond control her. She's told them as much. That if her mate must be present to discuss courtly matters or join them for a holiday, she’ll have no real objections to it. 

Though that, of course, is only a small fraction of the story.

As the two of them have gotten to know each other, she’s begun to understand why Feyre had been so skeptical initially, and why her own instincts had both pulled her to him with all their strength and why she’d fought against them equally hard.

Lucien Vanserra is a good male. 

He offers her a hand–a bit formally, she notes–and she takes it carefully, letting him pull her into his strong frame. A memory floods through her all at once then: of him doing the same during their recent visit to the Court of Nightmares; of how those awful carvings on the walls and suffocating darkness of the ballroom seemed to disappear when there was only the music and him before her. She had clutched his hand tightly; relished at the warm, strong hand at her back as he’d led her through one waltz then another; some flashier, more aggressive style she’d known she would’ve been lost on without his lead. 

She inhales deeply as they begin to sway in something similar to a waltz, remembering how his warmth and familiar scent had grounded her during that visit; kept her tethered to the music and their dance despite the unease she’d felt every single time she’d stepped inside that dreadful place.

How he'd made her feel safe.

He’s entirely too easy to be drawn to, she thinks. That still unfamiliar voice, partly from the bond and partly of her own admission, murmurs an addition in the back of her mind.

Entirely too easy to love.

“Are you enjoying your evening?” he asks her, and carefully meets his gaze. 

“I am,” she admits, a part of her surprised by the honesty of that statement. “You look nice.” 

His lips twitch again at that, and her heart flutters as his eyes briefly skim over her. “You look nice yourself, Lady,” he teases, and despite herself, she smiles back. 

Elain is suddenly aware of at least one set of eyes watching over them, and as if recognizing the same, Lucien shifts and guides her so that she knows her back is to their onlooker. Her voice drops low–so low that she wonders if he can even hear her over the music. “Who is it this time?” she whispers.

“Both your sister and the Shadowsinger,” he replies equally softly, and her blush deepens slightly at how carefully he sets his mouth when he speaks, as if barring both from reading his lips. “No doubt trying to make sure I don’t steal you away or ravish you right here in the middle of the party.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” she replies, giving his hand a light, knowing squeeze. Heat pools in the pit of her stomach as she surprises even herself as she continues, “Besides, I have very particular tastes.” 

"So I've learned."

His thumb traces down the side of her hand slightly, and his eyes gleam as she’s certain the same memory flickers through him. He sends a caress down the bond and, though she doesn’t return it fully, gives him a playful tug through it. Mother, she thinks as heat floods through her and the gleam in his eyes turn nothing short of flame. He might as well take her in the middle of the party for all that look implies, and she realizes–senses–that she no longer feels Nesta’s or Azriel’s focus on her either. The feeling of his fingertips tracing down her spine confirms it, and she relishes the heat she feels from them even through the layers she wears.

It’s a risk, she thinks, the way he’s looking at her now. A look she knows she’s returning whether intentionally or not.

Part of her wants to snake her arms around him: relish in his touch, scent, and taste. That she were ready to act as freely with him under her sister’s roof as she does outside it and among the other courts even when she and Lucien aren't alone. Her thoughts drift to the rolling meadows of Spring; the private, heated moments they’d stolen together in Day.

By the look in his eyes and feeling of his heart pounding so near her own, he’s thinking of them too.

Elain knows whatever act they’ve been putting on won’t last long at this rate, and when the song draws to a close, she takes a step back, and they end in a polite curtsy and bow. She separates from him completely, not bothering to conceal her blush as she turns her attention pointedly to a floral arrangement in a nearby vase. When his eyes follow hers she turns, and as the distance between them grows, she sends another tug down the bond. 

One that asks him to follow.

She weaves through the crowds again, knowing none will question it. There was a time when she would have wanted to hide from the bond; what it made her feel around Lucien. There had been times when she had begun warming up to him when it still overwhelmed her, and she needed to spend time in her gardens to think.

This, she knows, will appear to be no exception.

She’s already wandered through the garden’s neat rows once when he manages to discreetly slip away and join her. She listens carefully: hears nothing beyond the trickling of the water fountain and the sounds of the party inside the estate. Hears nothing but his heartbeat and the way it syncs with her own. 

Confident they’re alone, she closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him, letting out a small, relieved hum as his hand gently rests beneath her chin. Hers find his chest, feeling the elegant fabric of his jacket before sliding over his shoulders. He pulls her closer with his free hand, his other finding the curve of her neck and tracing her jawline with his thumb.

She savors this secret kiss: gentle and lingering no matter how much it makes her want more. Crave more. 

Though it’s neither the time nor the place, and when they finally separate, she lets out a soft, shaky breath. 

It’s like a dream, she thinks as she forces her eyes to slowly flutter open. She takes him in in the moonlight: the red hair, striking beauty, and warm, clever eyes. Breathes in the cool night air and the gardens and him. 

He extends an arm to her, and she loops hers through his. As they begin to walk through the garden together, she finds herself relaxing more with each and every step. While warmth floods through her at his nearness and everywhere they still touch, so does a sense of peace, and she smiles to herself.

She knows their secret will come out eventually, and she’ll be ready when it does. There’s still one left that even Lucien doesn’t know, and it’s one she plans to share with him soon.

One that she’s already spent countless days and nights alike thinking about. One that’s led to her jotting notes down in her favorite recipe books, and one that she’s come to accept at her own pace.

For now, all she needs is this.

[separatist-apologist]

We could get married, have ten kids and teach them how to dream for elucien if you don’t mind !

We Could Get Married, Have Ten Kids, And Teach Them How To Dream- Elain x Lucien (679 words)

Elain panted, dropping to the sleeping bag laid out for her by Vassa, who had set her own a good couple yards away. Elain could see the firebird Queen talking to Jurian quietly. Elain sighed softly, ignoring Lucien beside her. He was already stretched out, his face still bloodied and bruised from their latest run in with Koschei’s flying minions. She never should have agreed to come and yet as she laid her head against the fabric, she thought it was the most alive she’d ever felt.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, unable to take her eyes off the stars overhead. She didn’t know what possessed her to reach out her hand. He’d taken the brunt of the beating that day, tasked with keeping not just himself alive, but her, too. She was their Seer. They couldn’t get close enough to Koschei without her but Elain didn’t know how to use a sword like even Vassa did. 

Lucien took her hand, sweeping his thumb over the back of her hand.

“I’ve had worse.”

That made her look. Lucien was closer than she’d though, leaving only inches between their shoulders. Long, red hair was swept off his tanned face. Up close, Lucien was somehow more handsome than she’d ever seen him. 

“Really?” she asked, if only to assuage her own guilt.

“This doesn’t even rank in my top ten worst beatings.”

Elain nodded, squeezing her fingers around his hand. “Maybe I should learn to fight.” “Do you want to?” 

She shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted. 

“What do you want, Elain?” he asked, and she thought he wasn’t really asking what she wanted to do on this mission. After all, it might end any day now. Lucien had been quite clear in the beginning that he had no intention of hanging around once they finished, which had been just fine with her at the time. Now, though…after weeks of camping and hiding and talking and once very drunk kiss, Elain didn’t want him to go.

“I want to go home,” she told him after a moment. That disappointed him. Lucien let go of her hand, resting both on his chest.

“And do what?”

Elain looked back up at the stars, praying whoever might be watching for courage. “We could get married.”

Lucien went utterly still beside her. She didn’t think he was even breathing. Elain didn’t dare look at him, opting to count the stars overhead as she listened to the sound of his newly frantic heart.

“Oh?” he finally managed, his voice strangled. 

Elain nodded. She couldn’t take those words back now. “Yeah. I thought…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid.

“Tell me,” he urged, rolling to his side. “What were you thinking?”

She turned her head to look at his unreadable expression. “We’d have ten kids.”

Lucien choked on the air he was breathing. “Ten kids?”

Elain nodded. “I want a really big family, so no one ever feels lonely.”

“As someone who was the seventh son…I don’t know that it could be helped.” Elain shook her head. “We’d be a different sort of parents. Instead of teaching them to fight or be rivals, we’d teach them how to dream.”

He smiled then, his whole face more brilliant than the midmorning sun. “You’ve skipped a lot of steps, you know. Typically I woo a female before she’s proposing marriage.”

Elain poked him softly in the ribs. “You saved my life today. Does that not count as wooing?”

“I suppose.”

Silence fell over them again. This time, it was Lucien who reached for her hand, holding it to his lips. “I’m going to hold you to this proposal, you know.” “Good,” she replied with a dreamy sigh. “It’ll give you something to think about while you’re swinging your sword around.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m always thinking about you when I’m swinging my sword around.”

Their eyes met and Elain smiled. “Promise you won’t stop?”

Lucien nodded. “I swear.”

[sunshinebingo]

Elucien - 400 words - fluff

A tug.

Elain pauses.

A thrum of the string attached to her heart.

She stands from where she was playing on the rug with her nephew and casually walks out of the room. As soon as she is out of sight of Nuala, Cerridwen and her nephew, Elain rushes up the stairs towards her room.

She sits down before her vanity a second after the door closes. I quick pull at the ribbon holding her hair in a bun and the loose curls fall past her shoulders in a golden brown cascade.

She opens her jewellery box, making a mess of everything inside, until she finds a dainty necklace that she knows will catch the light when she will move.

She stands up and looks at her reflection. Something is still not right. She turns to her left then her right, then runs towards her wardrobe. The dress that she currently has on is already on the floor by the time she stops before the racks of clothes. She pulls out another one in a shade of yellow that complements her sun-kissed skin better and which has a cleavage that is just the right amount of suggestive.

Another tug.

A stronger thrum.

She looks at her full reflection one last time before she leaves her bedroom. She runs again but abruptly stops right before she reaches the stairs.

Deep breath in. Then out. In. And out. She fans her face with her hands and breathes until her racing heart slows down enough to mask the flustered state that her race has put her in.

Then, with as much grace and poise as a refined lady, Elain ambles down the stairs and towards the living room again where she finds Nyx where she has left him with the twin wraiths.

Someone else has also joined the little party and is now comfortably settled on the loveseat, looking as though he has just come out of a romance novel.

“Lucien,” Elain exclaims, smiling coyly at the male. “I was not aware that you were here.”

His returning smile can only be described as positively dashing.

“I only just arrived. My apologies for not informing anyone beforehand.”

[zenkindoflove]

Kiss prompt asks

🌷Elain x Lucien🦊

20...on a scar

23...in relief

7...to shut them up

10...desperately (NSFW)

26...as an apology

19...for luck

45/47...out of anger/spite

4... where it hurts

💍Sathia x Tharion🦦

46...out of envy or jealousy

15...passionately

17...to distract

49...out of necessity

🍁Eris x Alexius (OC)🔆

34...to pretend

9...in public

[foxybananaaaz]

I know I'ma regret this. #9 for the angst prompt!

● Golden Thread ●

《 “Of all the times to tell me, why now?” 》

ANGST ONELINER PROMPTS FOUND { HERE } Send an ask with a number

Summary :: A conversation between Feyre and Elain doesn't go as planned.

Pairing :: SQUINT Elucien

Word Count :: 1k

Authors Note :: It's been so long since you requested! BUT I have been trying to figure out the right way to write this. I'm sorry you waited forever! But here we go!

“You aren’t who he would have chosen as a mate.”

Before the words had even fully sunk in, Elain had turned her head to her younger sister, only to see shock, mixed with frustration on her face. It wasn’t until the words, and their meaning, settled into her mind, that she fought, and failed, the urge to flinch back.

“That didn’t come out the way I meant for it to.” Feyre spoke up again, fully aware of how her original statement affected Elain, even though she wished it wouldn’t have.

Elain, proving to be more stubborn than either her sisters remembered, especially surrounding this topic, simply turned her head, and looked away. She hoped to give the impression that she did not care, nor did she wish to discuss him.

He was visiting, of course. Elains sisters only ever brought up the subject whenever he was around, but not near.

“He thought he had a mate, but the bond never snapped into place.” Feyre spoke, as though Elains dismissal of the topic had not happened.

Closing her eyes, she fought against the surge of jealousy that reared its ugly head. It was not hers, it did not belong to her. The emotion came from that thin golden thread that came from the deepest part of her being, and connected her to the red haired male. The emotion, though she knew what it was, and why it was there, was foreign.

“They loved each other so deeply, they genuinely believed they were mates.” Elains younger sister continued. She continued, ignoring, or just not knowing, the jealousy growing.

Elain hated it. She had no right to react this way. She did not wish to react this way. Yet here she was, jealous enough anyone who did not know the situation, might think that she had not ignored that thread.

“Clearly, they are not.” Elain clipped back. Her words, sharper, her tone, harder than she had planned. She hadn’t intended to respond at all, yet she could not help it.

“No. They aren’t.” Feyre responded, seeming to finally get a sense of where Elains mind was at. “It didn’t stop him from believing she was, even in the centuries after her death.”

Elain, as much as she loved to believe she was great at controlling her reactions, when it came to the golden thread, or him, she had a hard time keeping any reaction to herself, especially when she could not control it.

There was a small flicker of relief at learning this unknown female that he loved so much, had wanted to be his, had wanted the golden thread to tie him too instead, had no longer been alive. She couldn’t help it. She desperately hoped her face remained neutral. What kind of person had any sort of glee learning someone had died, no matter how long ago?

But there was one thing Elain could not figure out. This was not her sister's story to tell. She knew why her sister was telling her. Elain wouldn’t speak to him. But it still wasn’t Feyre’s story to tell.

Beyond that though, Elain was curious.

“Of all the times to tell me, why now?” Though she asked, she refused to look at her sister. Asking the question may have been too much, letting her sister think she was giving too much interest in him. Turning her gaze to her sister wouldn’t help Elain.

“I thought you should know, you aren’t the only one who found yourself in this bond, having had hope for a past love.” Feyre responded.

It was the first time anyone had mentioned, even though indirectly, Greyson, at all since the war. What he had done, had said to her.

He was the reason Elain had started ignoring the heartbeat she could still hear. Greysons cruel words, and the harsh way he spoke to her was the reason Elain would not look within herself, knowing she would only see the golden thread. The way Greyson had broken her heart was the reason Elain refused to look at the male with the red hair.

Refusing to listen to her sister any longer, Elain stood, and walked out of the room, without another word.

She was tired of everyone expecting her to do something about her situation. She couldn’t even try to distract herself, like Nesta could, without this situation ruining it.

Maybe she hadn’t done anything because maybe she may want to be happy like her sisters one day. But that day kept getting pushed further, the more her sisters brought up the topic like she should take pity on him.

Elain hadn’t realised where she was walking, hadn’t caught the flash of red through the window, hadn’t heard his laugh as she turned the corner. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.

Yet, when Elain had entered the town house, thinking she might be free of the entirety of him, she ended up face to face with him, barely registering his human friends.

He still had the laughter in his eyes, though it was quickly dying, as he realized that it was Elain who stood in front of him.

Elain couldn’t help the longing, the pain, the sadness upon seeing how quickly his laughter and joy died. She did that to him. And this was the worst part of this bond. The guilt, seeing his expression fall, anytime he saw her.

Though, now, her mind had something new to supply, seeing the fallen joy. Even though her sister hadn’t meant it in a way to be painful, her words came back, which added more uncontrolled, and unwanted pain in Elains chest.

‘You aren’t who he would have chosen as a mate.’

Without saying a word, Elain turned on her heel, and walked back out the front door, completely forgetting why she had come to the town house to begin with.

The only thing on her mind was how Lucien Vanserra’s face always fell, whenever she came into the room, and how it was probably because she wasn’t who he wanted.

THIS, is the first thing I've written in a while! It's short, sorry. But also, tried to keep that angst. Hope I did well?

[elains]

❧ Summary: The way Elain and Lucien discovered their mating bond was perhaps not ideal, and the road towards falling in love and accepting their feelings full of thorns — but throughout challenges and adversity, they have made it work. Now, eternity awaits them.

A series of connected ficlets for Elucien Week 2023, set post the end of the series when all villains are gone, following episodes of Elain and Lucien's sometimes quiet, sometimes agitated, life together.

✾ chapter 1  — mates

For @elucienweekofficial

Read on Ao3!

Their mating ceremony would happen on the Feast of the Risen Sun, the most sacred of the Day Court holidays when the power of its High Lord was at its peak. It would be a grand, public affair to be witnessed by friends, family, the court, and the people. All lords of Prythian and countless foreign authorities were invited to attend months beforehand. 

Nesta and Feyre might have preferred simpler, quieter mating ceremonies for their family and close friends alone, if any at all. Elain was different: she had always dreamed of a Princess’ wedding, and Helion was all too willing to indulge her.

It wasn’t a purposeless waste of gold and resources, either: Lucien had been born outside of wedlock and raised beneath the coppery leaves of the Autumn Court, far away from the Day Court, its traditions, and culture. A mating ceremony as grand as this would help cement Lucien as the Prince of the Day Court and their future High Lord in the eyes of the nobility and the people.

Elain brought a hand to her mouth, lush pink lips lifting as she remembered how Lucien had tried — unsuccessfully — to talk her and his mother out of such a huge celebration.

“Are you sure you wish for such a grand ceremony, love?” Lucien asked, eyeing the array of fabrics displayed on the mahogany table. “You don’t need to do this for me, you know.”

Elain snorted, not bothering to look at him. “Were I doing this for you, you wouldn't be so recalcitrant about everything.” She inspected a piece of gold damask embroidered with vines and sun motifs and handed it to Phoebe. “I think this one would go well with the copper gossamer we picked earlier.”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother, please —”

“Do be quiet, dear,” his mother said cheerily, taking the fabric from Elain's hand and nodding approvingly. “It's better this way. Why don't you go ask your father about the statues and help him there, hm?”

“Statues?” He stared between them, mouth hanging open. “That wasn't in the original plan.”

“Neither was distributing gold bars to the citizens as small gifts, but you don't plan the mating ceremony of the millennium by skimping on the details.”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like I give up, extracting a peal of laughter from his mother and mate. 

The two females him go with twin smiles of fondness etched on their faces. 

“He doesn’t think he deserves any of this, does he?” Elain whispered, tightening her grasp on her dress. “The extravagance, the big mating ceremony — after all we've been through, he still thinks he's not good enough.”

“And he won't. Not for a while, at least. Such deep wounds take time to heal. But he's getting better every day. He has me, his father, and even Eris. He has you, too.”

“I wish there was more I could do. If only I could... I don't know. Help more.”

Phoebe smiled and got up, collecting Elain's hand within her own and giving them a tight squeeze.

“You already do enough, sweet girl. You are here, and you will help him through the worst, just as he will help you — my son isn't the only one with scars that need time to heal, is he now?”

Elain chuckled, a tear gathering at the corner of her eyes. “No,” she said, “he isn’t.”

She had come a long way in learning to be more assertive since the quest to defeat Koschei, the trials she had faced forcing her to come out of her shell and face her problems head-on. Lucien didn’t allow her to retreat and ignore the mounting problems either, dragging her out of her cocoon of security if demanded. 

“And that is the beauty of the mating bond. You have someone who understands you to your core, and you, him. He will help you grow as you will help him. Hand in hand, side by side, to help you up when you stumble and give you a push forward when required. It's work, as all relationships are, but it's not a burden to be placed solely on you or him. You carry it together. And if either of you starts slipping, you stop, reassess, and ask for help.”

“Has Lucien ever told you about my mother?”

“Very superficially, I'm afraid,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.

“She was arrogant, petty, and cruel. She only loved me and my sisters in so far as we were an extension of herself she could parade and brag about to her friends. Her name meant love, but I don't think she had any love left in her to give to anyone but herself.” Elain swallowed a sob, a tear sliding down her cheek. More than a decade after her death, the ghost of Carys Archeron still cast a long shadow. “You are nothing like her, my lady. You never became cruel, no matter how thoroughly the world tried to break you. l… would be honored if you allowed me to call you mother, Lady Phoebe.”

“Oh, Elain.” Lady Phoebe stood and enveloped Elain in her arms. “You already are my daughter in my heart.” 

They stayed like that for a while, until one of the handmaids arrived in a rush to announce that the tailor they had invited to create the ceremony's dress had arrived from Xian. She was an old friend of Nuan, famed for her ability to weave magic into cloth, and the favorite seamstress at the employ of the Golden Empress of Xian. 

And here Elain was months after that day, wrapped in the dress of her dreams. Its design mixed the traditional human styles with day court ones, woven from white silk and pale pink and yellow gossamer. Gold filigree covered her shoulders; a chain of gold, diamonds, and topazes hung on her neck. The skin of her back lay partially exposed, gold chains encrusted in diamonds obscured her skin from view.

Her golden-brown hair had been curled and pulled up in buns and braids, decorated with gold rings and a massive headdress that she couldn’t wait to get rid of. Phoebe had explained the weight was on purpose, to remind the Ladies of the Day Court of their heavy burden.

After her handmaids were done with her dress, her makeup, and her accessories, Elain was allowed a moment to herself in the dressing room to collect her thoughts and relax — or as much as it was possible to relax in these circumstances. 

She had sat in a similar room a lifetime ago, fitting dresses and fabrics for her wedding to Graysen. She had been happy then, eager to leave behind her father’s house and make a home of her own, a place she could call hers and where the shadow of her sisters and her mother wasn't as thick. Her plans for the future had crumbled to the dust of hope when she and Nesta were kidnapped and turned into fae.

She had died that day in Hybern, all traces of her humanity scrubbed clean as she succumbed to the black waters of creation. Feyre and the others liked to say that the Cauldron loved her and had, therefore, showered her in gifts, but Elain hadn’t felt particularly blessed or gifted. The Cauldron had trampled on her wishes, given her things she did not ask or want, and taken everything else. It was powerful and as most powerful things with near absolute power, selfish.

In the aftermath, Elain had mourned her human life, resented the mate she became keenly aware existed, and the very being she always had feared and had been turned into. For months, complete oblivion seemed kinder than to continue to live and breathe.

And yet, if Feyre had never killed the wolf, if Elain hadn’t been dragged to Hybern, she wouldn’t be here now. Her sisters likely never would have met their mates; Nyx wouldn’t exist. Elain would never have met Vassa, Nuala and Ceridwen, Jurian, Nuan, or Lady Phoebe. There would be no vision of her and Lucien in the far future, old even by fae standards and surrounded by children and grandchildren, light and happy. 

There would be no future Princess of the Day Court smiling back from the mirror, brimming with light and joy, with gold dust splattered across her nose and cheeks. 

Elain Archeron had died, but Elain Archeron had also lived, happier than she had ever remembered being.

The door swung open and her sisters strode in. Feyre was clad in pale, shimmering blue, crowned in starlight, truly the Stars Eternal. Nesta wore the silver and blue uniforms the Valkyrie generals adopted for celebrations. They were Elain's sisters, but they were also the High Lady of the Night Court and the General of the Valkyries. 

“Oh, look at you!” Feyre squealed, coming to stand at her side. She had left Nyx with Mor and the rest of the Inner Circle. “I had seen the drafts you sent to Velaris, but seeing it in person and how they complement your beauty and jewelry — you look like a queen, Elain.”

“Thank you,” she answered with a giggle. “Madam Haolan thinks it is one of her finest works.”

“Isn’t that headdress a bit heavy, though?” Nesta came to stand in front of her, placing her hands on her waist. 

“Terribly,” Elain admitted, “I can hardly wait to get rid of it for the reception. Did I tell you I’m going to change dresses for it? The next gown will have sun lilies woven into it that —”

“That you bred and planted yourself and that will shine with sunlight. Yes, we know.” Nesta rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You showed it to us last time we were here, when they had yet to bloom. You wrote to us about them too. Multiple times.”

“Well, then.” Elain sniffled haughtily, lifting her nose into the air. “You will get to see them soon. They’re my masterpiece, if I may say so.”

Nesta seemed like she wanted to say something, but Feyre cut in, placing a hand on Elain’s shoulder.

“Far be it from us to go against the bride on her mating ceremony —”

“Good, else I might have you both thrown out of here until it's time to leave.”

Feyre ignored her. “— but we need to ask: is this truly what you want?”

Elain blinked once, then twice, shoulders going slack. She looked at Feyre, wide-eyed and gaping, then at Nesta, who nodded somberly in agreement.

“You are both aware that this is merely the formal ceremony, aren’t you? She said slowly, pointing to the fully decorated city outside. “That I’m already mated to Lucien in all ways that matter, right?”

“We know,” Nesta said, “but regardless. If this ceremony is too much, if it’s too big for you —”

“This is the ceremony I wanted,” Elain snapped, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “It was I who insisted on a grand event. The dress, the food, the flowers, everything — I spent hours, days, months even, painstakingly working on all of it. So why in the world would I not be fine with it?”

“It’s just —” Feyre hesitated, bit her lip, and continued, “You have always tried to please everyone. Even when you disliked it, you kept quiet. We want to ensure you are fine with what is happening, Elain. That is all.”

“Your concern is touching,” she replied without meaning, grinding her teeth. “But it's also unwarranted and patronizing. Must we have this conversation again today of all days?”

“We don’t mean it this way.” Nesta insisted, taking Elain’s hand. “We just want you to know that we are here for you and will support you in whatever you want to do, even if it is leaving Lucien at the altar to run off with Azriel.”

Elain gagged, horrified. “You did not just say this.”

“You did have a crush on him.” Her older sister smirked, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes. 

“Everyone makes mistakes and foolish decisions they regret.” Elain squared her shoulders, crossing her arms. “I don't need you to remind me of mine”

Nesta barked out a laugh, Feyre soon joining in. Elain glanced between her sisters, taken aback by their mirth and giddiness, and soon found her mouth twisting into a smile, her shoulders shaking and shaking until she, too, was roaring with laughter.

When they had quieted, Feyre left Elain’s side to stand beside Nesta, each offering her a hand. In her dreams, it was her father who walked her down the aisle, but her father was no longer here, nor was her mother, and it hadn’t felt right to ask Rhysand or Cassian to step into his place.

But she could ask her sister, her family. Her father lived on through all three of them, after all. 

With a brilliant grin, Elain took their hands and rose. 

༻ ❁ ༺

Elain had never seen so many people gathered together.

A crowd of thousands lined the cobblestone streets of the City of Haemera, females and males and children waving olive tree branches and tiger lilies. They cheered her name with huge smiles, clapping excitedly as her chariot passed by, pulled by two pegasus. An honor guard that consisted of Day and Night Court soldiers and her brothers-in-law followed behind.

A basket lay on the crook of her elbow, and she distributed flowers and branches and gold to the populace. Her heart hammered in her chest as the Temple drew closer, her hands shaking with nervous excitement.

She reached for the cord on her rib tying her to her mate, clutching it tightly, almost not believing she was here, after all this time. From the other side of the bond, Lucien responded, as nervous as she was, but full of love and warmth. 

The chariot stopped by the great steps of the Temple. Feyre and Nesta were already at the foot of the stairs, waiting.

Rhysand helped her down, placing a kiss on her cheek and wishing her good luck. Cassian, for his part, clapped her on the back and muttered that Lucien was a lucky male to wed her.

“He is,” she agreed, “and I am a lucky female to have him.”

Her sisters lifted her veil from the ground, a translucent fabric shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow under the bright solstice sun. Taking a deep breath, she took a step up the stairs, the cheers drowning out her thundering heartbeat. 

Elain held onto the gold thread connecting her to Lucien more tightly, using it to ground herself. She hardly remembered to greet the guests that had come to see their ceremony, but she didn’t think they expected her to. It was clear to all that there was only one thing in her mind.

They reached the top of the stairs, the huge columns of the Temple hanging high above, holding up a façade sculpted with the great, legendary myths of the Day Court.

Beneath it, there was a young Priestess in her gown, ready to officiate the ceremony. There was Vassa, her maid of honor, triumphant in her iron crown and her gown of flames. There was Morrigan and little Nyx, who brightened up at the sight of his aunt and started to wave enthusiastically. There was Helion and Phoebe, arm in arm, all fire and sun and warmth and mist-eyed emotion as their son had the ceremony they never could. 

And there was Lucien, staring at her as if it were the first time, the well-fitted white toga revealing his muscled chest, dusted with gold. His arm was decorated with gold bracelets and the sunburst crown he wore was haloed in sunfire, shining with power. His smile was so joyous and so radiant it could eclipse even the blazing sun.

He looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the entire world, and Elain fell in love all over again.

Without taking her eyes away from him, like a woman in a dream, she took the first step towards her mate and their piece of forever. 

[lorcandidlucienwill]

hi, sorry to bother, i like the vibe of your acotar posts (if that makes any sense). do you, by any chance, have any fanfic recs to match it? 😅

Thank you so much! I do have a few recommendations; it was actually rereading some parts of ACOSF and reading fanfiction that made me realize how good Nesta and Eris could be. https://www.tumblr.com/a-court-of-valkyries/693892238207500289/neris-week-day-one-angstforbidden-love?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/houseofhurricane/708746397230481408/ficlet-ask-nesta-and-eris?source=share Also someone shared with me a fanfic that shows what Lorcan did😂😂

There's a lot of good elucien stuff on the elucien tag on tumblr too

[asilentfrenzy]

Elain hesitated at the threshold of the room he was waiting in for his small visit, squeezing her eyes shut to scold herself for her cowardice. This male was her mate. She was foolish for shying away from him.

The breath she released was nearly a childish huff as she went to sit beside the stunning male, the beauty of him ethereal and foreign - fierce and ruthless.

"Elain," Lucien said, frowning in confusion. Elain heard his heart stutter when their eyes met. 

"May I sit?" She asked quietly, offering him a soft smile that was a bit difficult to muster through her nerves. A silly thing to ask. She was already sitting.

"Of course you can," he told her. His tone was on the verge of bewilderment - as though he couldn't believe she would ask him such a stupid question.

Of course she could, was what that tone said, and she could do whatever she liked when it came to him for that matter.

She set a cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of him before lifting a plate of biscuits.

"Would you like one?"

He blinked at it dubiously, watching it for a few moments before his eyes flicked down to the cup of tea. 

"I-I feel so rude when I think back on when you offered me the same that day… and how I never answered you. It has been nagging at me ever since. So I thought I would return the favor as an apology," she told him, twisting her hands in her lap. "It is unlike me to be so impolite, but of course I was not at all like myself then. I hope you can excuse my behavior."

He coughed out a laugh in disbelief. "Elain," he started, shaking his head at her. "Please never apologize for something like that. Not with the circumstances you were burdened with." His head dipped as he fought to hold her eye contact when she turned her face away. "But I thank you for your graciousness. The kindness of so many pale in comparison to the heart you possess."

She met his eyes - russet and elaborate gold, her lips twitching into a tentative smile before she nodded towards the biscuits.

"Is that a yes?"

[moodymelanist]

ive been reading all the elucien ficlets while working but i havent had any time to comment or rb im sorry 😭 anyway im loving this whole saga cant believe i started it 🥰

omg no you’re totally fine bestie just knowing that you’re reading and enjoying them is enough 🥰🥰🥰 major props to you for starting all of this!!!

[ao3feed-acotar]

Floriography

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2BSJ1r3

by Muze

3 part Elucien series. Each chapter adressing the meaning of one of the flowers Feyre painted in their house.

Part 1: "They call it folk's gloves. Do you know why? It’s said to be a flower that was smuggled out of the faery lands by some humans who wanted to share its beauty and benefits with the world. But the faeries were angry with the humans for stealing it. So they cursed their beloved plant. They say that whenever a human tries to cut or pluck one of the flowers, it would offend the faery folk. So Elain, love, admire the flower but don’t touch it." She should’ve paid attention to the circle of mushrooms she entered. She should’ve paid attention to the tales. She should’ve wondered how, while all the grass had turned brown, the grass in the ring was still a vibrant green. She didn’t.

'You killed something of us. Now I can ask for a life of one of yours. Do you happen to have any babies I can snatch and swap for changelings?' ‘You can’t be serious. '

Words: 1338, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Elain Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Helion (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Beron Vanserra, Eris Vanserra

Relationships: Elain Archeron/Lucien, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Additional Tags: Language of Flowers, Faerie folk are dangerous, Floriography, a way too literal floriographic interpretation, Ficlets, One Shot, Romance, Kind of AU, Lucien is a snarky sassqueen, Elain is So Done, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, eventually, I haven't planned this through, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Titles

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2BSJ1r3

[animezinglife]

The Song of Spring

With party preparations underway, Elain and Lucien spend a quiet moment together in Spring.

Genre: Romance/Fluff with a fairytale vibe. Post-canon Elucien ficlet with a sprinkle of Spring healing. As always, special thanks to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, and all of you who continue to make the Elucien sphere of the internet such a fun, welcoming place. I hope this brings a smile to your face as we move into the weekend. Elucien Masterlist | AO3

Elain wasn’t sure how much time she’d spent working on the florals for the party. Lucien had assured her the amount of work she’d taken over where the blooms were concerned wasn’t necessary, but she had insisted, leaving him to a knowing smirk and a graceful bow while she arranged bursts of color here and there; helped the servants who’d been hired create canopies of vibrant green. The party wouldn’t begin for another few hours, but she knew the magic that graced these blooms would keep them vibrant and fresh for weeks to come if the High Lord of Spring so chose.

This would be the first party–not a full-fledged ball, as she’d reminded herself multiple times–in Spring in several years, and would serve as an opportunity to celebrate its rebirth. It had been awkward, Elain had noticed, between her mate and Tamlin–she’d only ever heard the stories that Feyre and Lucien had told her of their time in Spring, and it wasn’t missed on her how closely Lucien watched her in the High Lord's presence.

How this was the only court other than Autumn where he didn’t seem fully comfortable with the idea of her wandering off on her own. 

Though he hadn’t protested when she’d needed her space; a quiet morning of walking along through the gardens to process her thoughts. Tamlin had managed to secure some guards from Spring again, and she’d greeted them as she’d passed, noting the mix of Lesser and High Fae and the unusual, striking features of the former. It had been those morning walks through the gardens that had inspired the idea for the party, and she’d consulted Lucien on whether he’d thought it feasible.

“It could be a start,” he’d said carefully, though his eyes had warmed instantly at the enthusiasm with which she’d shared her idea. “A small party to build back morale within the court.”

He’d stood at her side while she’d presented the idea to Tamlin, and Elain hadn’t missed the warm surge of pride he’d sent down the bond to her or the small hint of a smile the High Lord of Spring had given her in response to the idea before voicing his approval. He’d offered his personal funds to cover it, but Elain hadn’t needed nearly the amount he’d offered: the flowers in the gardens were coming back in full force, and most of what they needed could be found around the estate.

She’d always liked the challenge of creating something beautiful with her own hands.

She’d felt Lucien’s eyes on her multiple times as she’d rallied a few of the servants and other Spring citizens she’d befriended during their previous emissary visits; felt the smile that played at his lips follow her as the inside of Tamlin’s manor had buzzed with life. Tables were moved to make room on the dance floor and support food and refreshments. Space was made for musicians–one of which she hoped would be the High Lord himself, after she’d learned of his fiddle playing and presented the idea–and decorated in flowers and natural splendor that made it feel like something from one of the romantic tales she’d read as a child.

Now the place had fallen quiet again, this time in anticipation as the servants had hurried home or back to their quarters to prepare for the festivities. The windows had been opened and would remain that way, the peaceful sound of birdsong and fountains from the gardens trickling through the halls. Tamlin himself was nowhere to be seen, and Elain stepped back in the hall, unable to refrain from admiring her handiwork and the vision she and the fae of Spring had brought to life. She rested her hands on her skirts, envisioning the place as it would become in a few hours’ time. She imagined the tunes that would play: a mix of classic dances and upbeat jigs from the Spring Court. Instinctively, she began to sway at the sound of a slow waltz that echoed through her memory–one she remembered well from the human lands, and one of the first dances she’d shared with her mate.

Elain felt his strong hand on her waist as she moved into a turn, a smile crossing her face as she easily fell into his lead. Settled into his strong frame and easy, elegant lead.

Lucien was, after all, every bit a High Lord’s son. She’d had yet to find a dance that he wasn’t adept in, an aspect of any court’s unique culture he wasn’t knowledgeable about. Even though no music played, he seemed to fall easily into a slow, graceful rhythm with her.

Warmth flooded through her and flickered to her cheeks as she met his gaze, his mismatched eyes seeming to take every detail of her in. Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, she followed that easy lead, flowing into a turn as he lifted her hand overhead and falling back into his gentle embrace again. 

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured, and though his eyes remained on her, she knew he referred to the transformation of the room around them. 

“It’s high time they had a proper party,” she said, tracing her thumb over the side of his where their hands met in their hold. 

“It’s time they had something worth celebrating again,” he added gently, fingers pressing lightly into her back as they swayed together in soft, slow steps of three. She responded, closing some distance between them at his touch. It was hardly considered proper–certainly would not have been for a waltz in the human realm, but her elbow curved around his arm and her hand pressed lightly against his strong back while his hand lowered to the small of hers. They did not cease their dance, and she breathed him in, the familiar blend of embers, earth, and cinnamon settling into her as easily as her own pulse. 

He had become a home to her in ways she never thought possible: had always been in tune with her in ways she never would’ve imagined as a human, or even as High Fae before she’d been brave enough to know him. Lucien had become her dearest friend; her confidante, and her comfort. Yet he’d broadened her world and made her braver, too–letting her choose the life she wanted and giving her unyielding support when she faced her doubts.

They never pressed each other, instead falling into each other’s trust and confidence completely and at their own pace.

Elain laughed as she felt his hand shift and he dipped her, letting her head and hair fall back over the dance floor and snaking both arms around him as he pulled her close again. The bond hummed between them as she pulled herself against his powerful frame.

Feeling safe, free, and both utterly and hopelessly in love. The caress he sent down the bond responded in kind, telling her he felt every bit the same.

She felt him brush a kiss against her hair as she placed one against his chest directly over his heart. That strong, steady heartbeat had been her constant companion for years, even when she’d lingered in Velaris and heard its echo and pulse through the stone. It had terrified her; overwhelmed her completely in the way it had intertwined and beat in sync with her own. The way the bond was a constant presence between them and pulled both her mind and body towards him. She’d had no doubt that it had been the same for Lucien, too. 

Elain had resisted for so long–rejected the idea of the bond no matter how deeply it wove itself into her. And yet, when she’d finally had enough and taken that first step–a mere attempt to accept not the bond itself, but that Lucien might be a good male and even a friend–she’d known. She thought perhaps a part of her had always known that if she allowed herself to take that chance, she would learn that Lucien was kind.

That he was strong and loyal and good in all the ways Feyre had talked about, and others her sister had never even known herself.

She had never been so naive to assume he might fall in love with her, too. Though she had never missed the longing in his eyes, his careful attention to her and gentle, unwavering respect. His occasional quips that had her fighting back a smirk or a laugh. His own past had worn on her every bit as much as the future she’d always thought she lost: the idea she'd held that she could never amount to the love he’d felt for someone else, or the guilt that had plagued him in the years that followed.

Yet here they were now, wrapped in each other alone in a ballroom that was nothing short of romantic. She ran her fingers through a strand of his silky, red hair, light catching the jewel on the ring she wore on her fourth finger that was a perfect, delicate companion to his. Their swaying slowed, as if everything she felt–all she thought–were flooding into him as well. 

Her friend. 

Her husband. 

Her mate. 

She pulled back from him only slightly to meet his gaze, and seeing both the confirmation and softness there, let his hair fall back over his shoulder. She rested her hand on the side of his face as he covered it with his own, and standing on her tiptoes, pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips. He matched it knowingly, his mouth gentle, coaxing, and sending both her bond and body ablaze with warmth and peace. He brushed the corner of her lips once more before they separated.

A long, lone note in the distance echoed through the hallway then, stretching into the silence before finally being followed by another.

And another.

Then another.

The twinkle in Lucien’s eyes answered her question before she even voiced it as the faint trace of a fiddle sounded out, its song cautiously moving up and down in a scale as she’d often heard when musicians warmed up. 

She smiled slightly and rested her head against his chest as they held each other, thankful for where they were and all they had become.

[animezinglife]

Sounds of Summer

Time seems to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and Lucien and Elain take in every second. A short scene of the two in Summer.

Genre: Romance/Fluff Post-canon Elucien ficlet. Special thanks as always to @lucienarcheron and @zenkindoflove for the continued support. I hope this brings you both peace and warmth this weekend. Elucien Masterlist | AO3

Time has always seemed to move more slowly in Summer. The thought strikes Lucien again now as he takes in Elain’s sleeping form. The sheets are draped over her in a near-tangled mess; her golden-brown waves fanning out around her on the pillow and one strap of her nightgown falling slack over her shoulder. She breathes deeply; serenely. At first, he doesn’t move, committing the sight–committing her–to memory. While she’s always beautiful–the most beautiful female he’s ever seen–seeing her slumber like this tugs at the quieter side of their bond. The side he’s been able to sense in her from the start, and that she’s sensed in him.

He silently curses the fact they have to wake at all.

Already, they’ve slept in, the sunlight and salty air from the massive, open doors filling their suite with mild heat and a hint of salty mist. She stirs slightly, a quiet, content hum barely audible over the sound of the sea outside. Gently, he brushes a strand of hair from her face, a small smile crossing his face as her brow furrows slightly.

“Elain.” His voice is low, still groggy from his own sleep. Her eyelashes flutter slightly though her eyes stay closed, and when she doesn’t move, he leans into her and brushes a kiss against her hair. She doesn’t wake–not entirely, anyway, instead letting out a small huff in complaint and turning onto her side so that she faces him. He can’t help the smirk that forms on his face at that, and he slides the strap of her nightgown back into place on her shoulder before lowering his lips to her forehead. He peppers small kisses to her cheek and jawline as he feels the approval she sends down the bond, and he rests his lips near her ear to murmur quietly before kissing her there, too: “They’re going to wonder where we are.” Another kiss as goosebumps rise on her skin. “What we’ve been doing,” he adds pointedly, and if he’d ever had a doubt that she’d begun feigning sleep now, the color that flushes her ears and her cheeks is enough to confirm her act.

Her eyes flutter open then, fawn-brown meeting his under those heavy lashes. Though she’s blushing at his implication, a small, sleepy smile crosses her face. Mother, he’ll never get used to this: waking up beside her, that subtle but addicting scent of honey and jasmine, and feeling her warmth. 

Feeling the bond that hums between them, peaceful and content.

They’d stayed out late the night before–each night they’d been here in fact, after long days filled with a mix of meetings and sightseeing. Tarquin and Cresseida both had taken to Elain instantly, and Lucien was almost certain that if emissary business hadn’t often called them and if they hadn’t shared a bed, the princess of Adriata would’ve claimed as much time with her new friend as she could.

It was almost funny, Lucien thought, how easily his mate had charmed the High Lords and ladies of each court. How easily she’d found that balance of navigating politics and building trust–the latter of which seemed to fall quickly to the others genuinely liking her and calling her a friend. Cresseida had been no exception despite the watchful, calculated distance she had kept from the two of them at first–something Lucien had picked up was likely still a reservation from what had happened with the Night Court. While Elain had been given as much of the backstory as he had, she had met Tarquin and the princess with an easy smile and manners that charmed them and quickly had the latter gossiping about less political matters.

Lucien had still managed to steal her away though, or more accurately, Elain had managed to steal him away from the politicking and courtly social affairs. They’d made their way to the beach together after dinner the night before and walked alongside the water, letting it wash over their feet and Elain soak up the sights, sounds, and feeling of it. She had taken his hand and half-led him there, and given his hand a squeeze as they’d stopped, watching the sun sink below the horizon. 

When propriety hadn't required them to join Tarquin for meals, they’d ventured out on their own to sample the local cuisine from a different, less courtly perspective. They’d explored countless shops and gardens; several bakeries that specialized in pastries with sea salt, chocolate, and caramel. Lucien hadn’t hesitated to show Elain to all the locations he could remember where the rare, tropical flowers of Summer bloomed, and at the sight of them her face lit up. She had clutched his hand and led him over to one plant in particular before he could react, leaning in towards its petals and taking a long, deep breath to sample its scent, expressing how much she’d loved the hints of orange, jasmine, plum, and amber.

When Cresseida had stolen her away the next morning to talk over colorful drinks, Lucien had returned to the shops until he’d found a perfume in the scent’s perfect match. He’d gifted it to her last night, and the sweet, gentle scent still lingers on her neck and wrists.

He lowers his lips to her neck then and she giggles, her arm looping around his neck lazily and tracing a line down the back of his bare shoulders.

“So persistent,” she says, her voice every bit still as tired as his sounds. But there’s a lightness to it he doesn’t miss, and when he meets her gaze again, she doesn’t hesitate before pulling him to her and pressing her lips against his own. 

The kiss is as slow and lazy as the waves below. It’s coaxing; savoring and slow, even as she angles herself to deepen the kiss and traces his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. He’s too aware of the hem of her nightgown rising as she hooks a leg lazily over his waist. His hands find the curve of her waist–barely concealed by that thin silk–and pulls her soft frame against him. The small sound she makes nearly undoes him there, but he savors every bit of her he can take in: the taste of her lips, her scent, and soft curves against his body as they lay tangled there. He both hears and feels her heartbeat synching closely with his own as his hand trails over down over her hip, giving her a light squeeze that makes her breath catch before continuing down her bare thigh. 

“I could get used to this,” she breathes against his lips, and he lets a small smile cross his face. She nudges the tip of his nose with her own–a gesture that sends a memory flooding through him of the first time she’d done so, and his amusement that had followed. That strange human gesture–as though she’d mimicked a curious, playful fawn–still floods him with warmth. “Being here with the sun and sea. I never thought I’d see the ocean, you know.”

“I’ll bring you here anytime you like,” he murmurs, and she gives him a soft smile.

“I know.” She kisses him again, this time more earnestly with her hand sliding to the side of his neck and down the slope of his exposed shoulder. When they separate briefly, he sees the twinkle in her brown eyes just before she pushes him then, climbing over him as his back draws flat against the sheets. He lets out a low laugh as she lies across him and kisses the corners of his mouth and jawline. When her lips find his scar he breathes her in deeply; his hand brushing her hair off her back and wrapping those golden-brown waves once around his hand. 

“I’ll take you anywhere, Elain,” he whispers, and he doesn’t miss the caress she sends down the bond. It’s as though his mind and entire body react to it, too, whatever deep magic of that bond or their souls intertwining together and offering both a content, satisfied glow. 

“I know that, too,” she says, and she rests so that her face is hovering barely an inch above his. She brushes a strand of his hair off his face, and he traces a strand of hers that he still holds in hand. “I’d go anywhere with you, but right now…” Her voice trails as she shifts, and he senses her intentions changing before her body gives any sign. Her cheeks flush slightly, and he commits the sight of it to memory–all of her to it. His free hand slides down her back knowingly, her scent changing quickly and his own body entirely too near to giving his own wants away. Yet he stays still and he watches her until her eyes pose a question. As her full lips quietly speak the words he’s already hoping he might hear. “I just…want you.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to continue. He catches the back of her neck with his free hand and kisses her again. Softness turns to hunger, and the strap of her nightgown falls from her shoulders again she returns his intensity. 

His warmth.

His desire.

His love.

His mate.

He doesn’t care what hour it is. He’ll give her every second, every minute, every hour he can.

The Summer Court will have to wait.

[separatist-apologist]

Elucien for "We were crazy to think this would work". Bring on the pain bestie <33

You tried it. I don't write Elucien pain and I never will.

We Were Crazy To Think This Would Work- Elain x Lucien (698 words)

Elain didn’t dare look down, adjusting her grip on Lucien’s shoulder. “We were crazy, thinking this would work,” she gasped as he painstakingly climbed down the fraying rope. 

“Stop. Talking,” he grunted, responsible for not just keeping himself from plunging to a violent death, but her, too. It had been a plan made in haste, a rope tied quickly before he’d demanded she hold on to his neck and not let go.

He’d cut the rope bridge to keep them from being pursued and, assuming they didn’t die, they’d land on their feet days ahead of their attackers. It was the closest she’d ever been to him, pressed against the hard slab of his body. She was trying not to be impressed by how easily he moved, his hands ungloved on the rough rope holding them up. He continued their descent, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. 

“Thank you for not leaving me,” she murmured, unable to take her eyes off him. They’d be back to Velaris in days if they were lucky. Elain was starting to think she didn’t want to tell him goodbye. After months on the road, staying in tiny taverns with only one bed and sleeping beneath the stars, she’d grown fond of him. Liked him.

Loved him, even. 

“You thought I’d abandon you to death?” he asked with a huffing breath. “You truly think so little of me?”

“No…that’s not…” she was flustered. Elain pressed her face into his shoulder, exhaling the musky scent of him. “Can’t you ever just accept what I say? Must you always argue?”

“You’re welcome,” he finally replied. “It’s just…I would never leave you behind.”

Elain pressed her lips against the rough stubble of his cheek. “Okay. I know that now. Thank you anyway.”

His skin darkened, not from exertion but pleasure. He liked that she’d kissed him. Elain decided to press her luck. “Since I have you here…and you can’t leave…I’ve been thinking.” “Enlighten me,” Lucien replied dryly.

“Maybe once we return to Velaris we could go on an actual date?”

“I’ve seen you naked,” he replied quickly, determined never to let her forget that night in the inn with the non-existent bathroom door. 

“Yes, Lucien, as you’ve reminded me so often. Perhaps you’d like to see me naked again?”

His hands slipped and the pair slid a good ten feet down the rope before he caught himself.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he demanded. “Because it’s working, Elain. Of course I’d like to see you naked again.”

“Then you have to take me on a date like a respectable gentleman,” she replied breathlessly, her heart beating a mile a minute. 

“You’ve seen me naked, too, you know,” he reminded her slyly. Elain had certainly not forgotten. She held him just a little tighter.

“Hence the date, Lucien.” “Or maybe we forgo dining out entirely and I cover you in fruit before eating it slowly off your body.”

“You’d enjoy that far too much,” she murmured, kissing the side of his neck to stop herself from rubbing against the side of his body. They were very nearly to the ground now. “I can’t stand to see you that happy.”

“Too late,” Lucien retorted. “I’m elated at the prospect that you like me.”

“I don’t like you—” “Oh, my apologies. Love me,” he replied, dropping her to the ground before joining her. Lucien yanked violently on the rope, tugging with taut muscles until it came careening for the ground. Elain watched, mouth dry, at the sight. He turned to her, wiping his sweaty red hair off his face. Without a word, he caught her around the waist and pulled her in for a desperate, hungry kiss. 

“I love you, too, while we’re being honest,” he told her, fingers curling against her skin. “Now c’mon. If I’m going to see you naked again we’ll have to get moving.”

Elain sighed and Lucien grinned.

“It was the wrong thing to offer you,” she mumbled. Lucien caught her hand, kissing her palm quickly.

“I’ve never been more motivated to walk,” he replied.

And strangely, neither had she.

[separatist-apologist]

Hi MB! 🥰 Could I please request number 50 (“I’m dying to know if it’s killing you like it’s killing me”) for elucien for the tswift lyrics prompts 🥺 no pressure though! If you have one you’re secretly hoping to receive instead, i am open and willing to receive anything you gift us with! ♥️

I’m Dying To Know If It’s Killing You Like It’s Killing Me -Elain x Lucien (722 words)

Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave—Lucien’s thoughts were a near constant refrain of those two words as he walked Elain back up the drive to the River House. Back to her sister, back to Velaris, back to the life she’d lived before their little adventure. Feyre had sent Elain to accompany him to the other courts, to study being an emissary. Elain had taken her sister to heart and though their start had been rocky, Lucien thought they’d made good progress. Great progress, even.

He was in love with her. If he’d been a better, braver male he would have told her before they left Summer Court. He was too afraid she felt nothing beyond friendship, that it was her polite nature that allowed him to walk her this far. They reached the porch, door firmly shut though Lucien was sure Feyre was snooping from the other side.

“Well…” he trailed off awkward, facing her down. What did he say? Don’t leave me, I love you. “This was fun.”

Elain nodded, biting her lower lip. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

Dread coiled through his chest. “Of course. Whenever you need me.”

Lucien forced himself to turn, to take his eyes off her beautiful face before he did something truly terrible like beg her not to leave him. He told himself he ought to be grateful she liked him at all. They could still have their terrible, uncomfortable silence. 

Lucien made it all of four steps before Elain’s voice stopped him. “Lucien?” she yelled, walking the two steps towards him. She faltered and Lucien knew it would have to be him who put himself out there. 

“Elain,” he replied, closing the distance between them. “Tell me just one thing before you go. I’m dying to know, Elain. Is this killing you? The space, the wanting you so bad I feel insane? I don’t want you to go, I…it’s killing me. Tell me. Please.”

“Don’t go,” she breathed as she reached for his hand. There was no hesitation in her words, nothing but hope shining in her rounded brown eyes. Lucien pulled his hand from hers so he could cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he told her, letting her consider his words. She could stop him, if she wanted. He’d let her. Lucien had waited this long, what was a little longer? Elain tilted her head towards him, her breathing shallow. 

“Finally,” she murmured, words teasing. Part of him wanted to pull back and demand to know when, exactly, she’d begun hoping he’d kiss her. All she’d ever had to do was ask. Lucien would have been happy to oblige. Her lips were far too close to his for him to ask her anything at all.

Was it a coincidence that the sun peeked from beneath the thick blanket of clouds overhead the moment his mouth pressed against her own? Lucien didn’t think so. It felt like a sigh, as if the kiss itself were blessed by the holy Mother. He only cared in so far that the warmth on his cheeks now matched the heat blooming in his chest. 

He’d spent weeks wondering what her mouth would feel like against his own. The fantasy hardly lived up to the real thing. Elain pressed her body against his own, arms wrapped around her neck. Lucien held her there, pulling her off her feet so she was just a little taller. 

One kiss slid into another, the feeling almost maddening. He couldn’t help but lick along the seam of her lips, hoping she might offer him a taste of her. Elains lips parted, deepening the kiss as her own tongue darted forward, meeting his between their two mouths. The touch inflamed him, made him suddenly hungry and desperate. 

He had to set her back to the ground before he did something unforgivable on Feyre’s front lawn. Elain was flushed, eyes bright. She smiled at him, grabbing his hand for the second time that day.

“You’ll stay?” she asked breathlessly. “I…I’d like to kiss you again.”

Lucien nodded, running a hand through his hair with a wildness he was sure she’d noticed. 

As if he could leave her.

[separatist-apologist]

I miss you too much to be mad anymore, Elain and Lucien or Eris and Arina please!

I Miss You Too Much To Be Mad Anymore- Elain x Lucien (646 words)

It was a stupid fight. Lucien could hardly remember who had started it or even why. She’d just begun to talk to him, to spend time with him and now they’d spent days apart, both marinating in their anger. Over what? A disagreement that hardly seemed worth the distance. At this point, Lucien cared more about being the first to break. He always went to her, hat in hand, and begged for an ounce of her affection. 

Six days without her was torture. How had he gone years, centuries even? He was barely going minute to minute, pacing the carpet of his apartment until he’d worn the threads to nothing. “Fuck it,” he decided. He wasn’t too proud to beg, not anymore. He walked to the door, yanking it open only to find Elain on the other side, eyes wide, fist raised to knock. 

“Elain,” he breathed. The pair stared at the other, clearly realizing if they’d only held out for another few moments, they wouldn’t have had to be the one who broke. “Come in,” he finally asked. There was no use keeping her out in the autumn chill when she’d come all this way. 

Elain stepped into his apartment for the first time ever, looking around with obvious interest. He wondered if she liked what she saw. He hoped she did. 

“So…this is where you live?” she asked with just a touch of defiance. Lucien bit back a sigh of exasperation. Where was her apology now?

“For now,” he retorted, making it clear he might leave at any time. Far from being mollified, Elain’s eyes narrowed to slits. Her eyes swept the room again, haughty with disdain.

“Maybe you should, if this was the best you could do after four years.”

Lucien stared for a moment, letting her feel the heat of his gaze against her skin. 

“And you think you could do better?” he asked, taking a step towards her. Elain skittered backwards, standing on the same dark rug he’d been pacing earlier. 

“I know I could,” she hissed. All the air deflated from Lucien’s sails when he recognized what he was doing. They were prolonging this fight, neither wanting to admit they did anything wrong. Lucien couldn’t even remember what they were fighting for—was it worth it? Another week of silence, of missing her? Lucien walked to her, catching her hands before she could pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes searching her. “I’m miss you so damn much I can’t even remember what I was mad for.”

Elain exhaled a breath. “Me too, Lucien. I’ve been going out of my mind…I came to apologize too.”

Now that she said it, Lucien was feeling generous. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t have to get so angry. You didn’t know you were squashing begonias.”

Ah. Now that she said it, Lucien distinctly remembered trampling straight through her garden, taking a short cut so he could come talk to her. 

“I’ll be more mindful of your plants in the future. I only wanted to see you,” he added, hoping his ardor was enough to soften whatever lingering irritation she felt. Elain smiled.

“So…this is your apartment? You live here alone?”

Lucien’s whole body lit up at her words. “Very alone,” he agreed. “Shall I give you a tour?”

“What could be left besides a bathroom and a bedroom?” she retorted, not catching his meaning.

“That's the best part,” he insisted. “Come, let me show you how nice of a room it is.”

“Lucien,” Elain protested softly, as if there was any deterring him. Besides, he reasoned. She trotted right after him, so close she was practically stepping on his heels.

And when Lucien opened the bedroom door to let her in? Elain was the one who slammed it closed.

[animezinglife]

Imagine Elain showing subtle signs of falling in love again without fully realizing it herself (and others noticing).

Staring off into space, but serenely.

Little smiles at nothing in particular and small, quiet laughs to herself.

Humming contentedly while baking or gardening.

Her upbeat moods becoming more frequent.

Becoming more social again beyond just courtly affairs and gardening.

Leaning her head back and closing her eyes to feel the sun on her face and the fresh, warm air.

Being way too giddy/giggly over something that's not actually that funny to anyone else.

Being a little too aware of Lucien or his absence somewhere. Not realizing a detail included in something she says gives it away.

Her ears turning pink every time he approaches.

Suddenly no longer having small injuries from gardening from wearing gloves.

Somebody else--maybe Feyre or Nesta--nearly missing the gleam of a pearl earring when she brushes her hair back.

The way she slowly seems to be more interested in whatever Lucien's talking about than the others (and far more engaged in that conversation).

One of her sisters not knowing where she learned some skill or another, and Elain being vague at best or sheepish about admitting she learned it from Lucien.

Her knowing more than expected about some topic, court, etc. that implies she and Lucien have been having plenty of their own conversations.

Little looks and touches that imply far more of a story than what they're actively showing the world.

Basically, I love the idea of Elain's love life blossoming again outside of any watchful eyes and to see her happy and flourishing from it.