#elucien fiction

[the-darkestminds]

A Dying Flame

Eris POV — my first fic

Heyyyyy friends. I decided to write the two scenes UTM from Eris’s POV where Lucien is being tormented and Eris is forced to watch. It can also be found here. I’ve never written anything before so be nice to me 😭 I took a few lines directly from ACOTAR to set the scene and make it as canon as possible, but the rest came from me. I tried to channel SJM's writing style as best I could. I am trash for Eris so I couldn’t resist. I hope you guys like it 🥲 title is dumb so I might change it. I am eternally grateful for any of you who choose to read the whole thing, I promise it’s not too long! 🙏

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Eris

I stood at the edge of the gathered crowd, struggling to keep the cool mask of indifference on my face as Amarantha once again had Lucien bound and on his knees before her. Would his torment never cease? He had never quite mastered the ability to keep his mouth shut, to leash his tongue until the moment it would best serve him. Lucien’s loud mouth had already cost him his left eye, plucked right from his head by Amarantha herself. Rage coursed through me at the role I was forced to play each day under this cursed mountain. How useless I’d become at protecting those I held most dear. 

Lucien and I had not exchanged honest words in over 30 years. I longed for the chance to speak to him alone, to beg him to hold his tongue so as not to draw Amarantha’s ire more than he already had. Not for the first time, I desperately wished for the daemati abilities the High Lord of Night possessed so that I might speak to Lucien privately. Abilities he was about to unleash upon my brother.  

Beside Lucien stood a small and ordinary mortal girl, likely Amarantha’s newest plaything to torture and discard.

“Her name?” Amarantha asked Tamlin, who didn’t reply. “I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” she purred.

Give up her name! I nearly begged him. To hell with the girl. Instead I heard myself say, “If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you.” The words tasted like poison on my tongue. My brothers chuckled from behind me.

Amarantha only smiled and nodded at Rhysand. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing slightly on Lucien, who hissed in pain.

I tensed as Rhysand began smiling faintly. Bastard. He was a loathsome, foul bastard. And though I knew he played a role and wore a mask as much as the rest of us, it didn’t stop me from hating him as he held Lucien’s mind in his clutches.

Lucien stiffened in pain. A groan slipped out of him, and– 

“Feyre!” the girl shouted. “My name is Feyre.” 

Lucien sagged on the ground, trembling. Relief shuttered through me, and I bared my teeth and snarled quietly at the girl to disguise the trembling in my hands, my legs. He was safe, for now. And no thanks to me. 

The conversation continued, but I let my mind drift far away. Tried to feel nothing as I attempted to calm my racing heart. I clenched my sweaty palms at my sides and allowed myself a quick glance at Lucien’s prone form. Alive–for now. 

I slipped back into the crowd as they dragged Feyre away. He was alive. I repeated this to myself as the cruelty continued through the night, as it did every night in this miserable place. Alive–as I sipped wine and smiled at the punishment the Attor was inflicting on the poor faeries Amarantha had singled out this evening. Alive, alive, alive a steady chant in my blood as the night wore on.

Alive.

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“Well, Feyre, your second trial has come.” I heard Amarantha smugly announce from her throne at the front of the room. A gnawing dread had been pooling in my gut for the last hour. I could only guess at what new horror she had in store for the girl, but I grew increasingly anxious when I did not see Lucien amongst the revelers. He tended to lurk in the shadows of the room, one eye on Tamlin, ever the loyal sentry. I couldn’t help the low snarl that escaped me at the thought. That Lucien was willing to risk his own life for the Spring Court brute. The faerie next to me skittered away at the sound.

I slowly made my way towards the gathered crowd. Faeries averted their eyes as I passed. It was a relief that I still commanded a modicum of fear from these leeches. Their fear of me was a weapon I wielded frequently.

Amarantha sat proudly on her throne. The Attor at her left, Tamlin braced stiffly behind her on her right. 

“Here, Feyre darling, you shall find your task. Simply answer the question by selecting the correct lever, and you’ll win. Select the wrong one to your doom. As there are only three options, I think I have given you an unfair advantage.” Something metallic groaned at the snap of her fingers. “That is,” she added with a snake-like smile, “if you can solve the puzzle in time.”

I had just gotten a glimpse of the girl when the floor where she was standing began to sink down, revealing a small chamber split in two by a metal grate.

I went rigid as I beheld the figure chained to the floor, previously hidden from view. A loud roaring began building in my head. My skin felt tight and hot as I saw that it was Lucien–Lucien, who would again be part of the night’s entertainment. Lucien wrenched at the chains binding him to the floor. I nearly puked on the throne room floor at the sight of it.

Only the many years of practice in my long immortal life stopped the cry of anguish from escaping me as burning spikes began to slowly lower towards Lucien from above. I was a fool. A wretched fool to think Amarantha was done torturing him. That she would not use his friendship with the girl again and again until she finally broke, or was dead, Lucien along with her. I made to take a step forward but then jerked to a stop. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to stop this without damning us both further. I would be forced to watch in silent agony as Lucien was slowly and painfully crushed under the weight of those red-hot spikes. 

I stared and stared at Lucien, only vaguely aware of the girl flailing and panicking in the chamber next to him. This was some new level of hell. My nightmare brought to life, one that I could not wake myself up from. 

“Answer it!” Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes burned, and I felt a cold drop of sweat begin to drip down my spine. Only sheer force of will kept the practiced smirk on my lips. The spikes lowered further.

“Just pick one!” Lucien shouted. He strained against the chains, panting frantically, eyes wide.

My brothers around me laughed gleefully, and I forced myself to join in, the sound a pitiful rasp in my ears. I was grateful that the crowd around me was thoroughly distracted by the horror unfolding before us. That they could not hear my pounding heart or the screaming inside my head as those molten spikes lowered another inch closer to Lucien’s body, helplessly chained to the floor. This was the true torture. Not the painful lashes I’d so often received from my father for disappointing him in one way or another. Not the loneliness and fear that threatened to crush me after so many years navigating the snake pit of my father’s court. But this. Forced to stand idly by as my loved ones were killed. Forced to hear the fear in Lucien’s voice as he begged the girl to just pick a lever and be unable to stop any of it.

“Feyre, please!” Lucien moaned. The terror in his voice nearly brought me to my knees. And yet I stood there like a statue. Maybe this was my punishment for being so useless. So worthless. I desperately wished I could take Lucien’s place. That it was me chained to the floor. I deserved it.

I held my breath and shut my eyes as the girl finally reached for the third lever, bracing myself for what was surely to come. 

Silence. Then–a sigh. From Lucien. 

I opened my eyes at the sound and choked down the sob building in my chest. The girl, Feyre, had actually done it. By dumb luck or fate, she had saved them both.

I did not stay to witness Amarantha’s reaction to the girl besting her once more. Could not stand to be there a minute longer. I turned, not seeing any of the faces around me, desperate to escape the swirl of both panic and relief pressing in on me, threatening to swallow me whole. I could not fall apart, not here.

I stumbled away to the back of the throne room and kept walking until I was alone in a darkened passageway, the sounds of jeering and wicked laughter slowly disappearing. I leaned heavily against the nearest wall and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. My eyes and throat burned and I let out the broken sob I had been holding in. I would allow myself one minute to fall apart, away from prying eyes. Just one minute, and then I would return to join in the merriment of those who had cheered as my brother had nearly been killed again.

I breathed in the damp, cold air of the mountain, my body shaking silently as I sunk to my knees. I listened to the drip, drip, drip of water on the stone floor and used it to slow my quaking heart. When the minute was up, I stood. Tunneled deep down inside until I could barely feel the rage and sorrow. I brought the smirk back to my mouth–it was second nature after all these years. I took one last deep breath, and turned back the way I had come. I had been gone too long, and these caves had eyes and ears that were always watching, always listening–always reporting back to her. And though Autumn Court fire burned in my veins, I forced my heart to freeze over, as cold as Kallias’s ice. I let that ice flow through me as I walked back–as I blocked out the despair that fought to drown me with every step I took. Until I was no one, and nothing. 

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A small part of me was aware that I was in shock. I drifted through the following day as if underwater, not fully hearing the words spoken to me or how I responded. Through it all, I made sure to keep the haughty mask on my face. Only when I spotted Lucien across the room did I feel as if I had come up briefly for air. Our eyes locked, and Lucien’s mouth tightened in displeasure. He held my gaze, emotion flickering in his right eye–there and then gone before I could decipher it. After a beat he looked away and was promptly swallowed up by the crowd.

I knew Lucien despised me. It was written on his face whenever he deigned to look me in the eyes, and I let him believe I felt the same. As much as it pained me to do so, I treated him as if he were nothing to me, no more than trash to be discarded. I hated myself more with each passing day–was at risk of being consumed by it entirely and slipping deep into the burning pit of fire within me. It was sheer defiance against the bitch queen that prevented me from doing so. The hope that I might one day see Autumn again. So many years trapped down in the dark were wearing heavy on my soul. The steady fear that I would fail those I sought to protect slowly ate away at me. What I’d give to breathe in the crisp, cool air of home, to walk amongst the red and gold leaves that sparkled like jewels in the dawn light. I held on to the hope that I would one day return. Tucked it deep down inside where it flickered softly, the aching pain in my heart its only companion.

[toolsofmyenemy]

The audacity of people demanding that Gwyn not be shipped with anyone because it makes them uncomfortable. And not just Gwyn but all women who have not shown romantic interest in someone.

Seriously, what the fuck is that nonsense.

She is not real. Her life isn’t real. Her feelings are not real. None of it is real.

Don’t ship her with anyone if you don’t want to. Look at that. Problem solved.

She can be shipped with whoever, whatever and whenever anyone wants because it is not real.

Are they looking for ways to suck all the fun out of everything?

And have they been to the internet? Cuz damn if they only knew half the shit people ship out there. It ain’t pretty but everyone has a right to ship what they please. And they don’t owe anyone any justification.

[romanticatheartt]

TW: mention of r*pe, sl*t-shaming and de*th treats

At this point I want to ask Gwynriels and Eluciens if they really ship these couples because they like them, like the potential they have, how their story can be healing & inspiring to so many OR you're just here to prove E/riels being in the wrong and insist on how they're not endgame?

Your whole blog is for "what that person said", "what the other did", debunk their theories, arguing the same subject all over again every few days...

Don't you get tired? What happened to enjoy your ship? Making headcanon, making meme, writing fanfics, drawing fanarts?

This has nothing to do with being passionate. You can be passionate but try to enjoy your ship. Not arguing all the fkn time that none of the sides would accept the words of the other... WHAT'S THE POINT?

They're insecure enough to come to G and E tags to argue with you but why you bother to even form an answer? If they're here to start a fight with you, just block them! Don't answer them. Leave them hanging. Why do you care what they think? They're in the tags to feel validated for their opinion but we know they're in a wrong place so put them out of their misery and block them... (I can't stress this enough BLOCK THEM. God knows how many I did in the past year and I wasn't even active)

All the G and E tags are about how E/riels won't happen and how they're are rude and disrespectful...

Just leave them alone, let them be in their own delusion bubble and just wait until sjm confirm what the next book is about. If it's as we predicted based on everything we've seen so far that would be an answer enough to all their disrespects, de*th treats, calling us misogynist, sl*t shaming and telling us they hope we get r*pe just like Gwyn did...

And if it's not, if somehow E/riel happened to be endgame, that's not the end of the world. You can still ship them because there's no rule on how you HAVE to ship what the author wrote. Canon is a decision the author takes but you can disagree and write your own version, make your own headcanon. That's the beauty of shipping two imaginary character!!

But IF you actually ship them, not just to prove that side of the fandom wrong...

I think everyone should ask themselves that "will I still ship Gwynriel/Elucien even if they're not endgame?"

Because right now it looks like a competition...

ps: if E/riel is endgame then karma will get to them another way and if it's not that should be a karma enough for all the foul things they called/said to us.

[lucienarcheron]

you seem like one of the calmest eluciens about the ship war 😂

*gently holds your hand* I say this in the sweetest most comforting way possible but...it's because I don't care 🤣🤣

I appreciate people's passion for the series and the characters but...SJM will do what she wants in the end. I'm 99% confident Elucien is happening because logically with the story she's been telling, it's what makes sense to me but you know what - she might do a 360 and change everything in the next book so that 1% doubt will always be there because I'm not her and I don't know what's in her brain lol.

I love Lucien, I love Elain and I very obviously love them together. I will ship elucien until the end regardless of what happens because to me, they will always make more sense than any other ship. But I also don't want to spend time arguing with people or trying to convince them about whether I'm right or not when in the end, we could all be wrong anyway haha.

There's a lot of nastiness that comes with this ship war and it's just not worth it. It takes away from the joy the series gives to people and there are real people behind these screens. Ultimately, I'm here for a good time not to deal with people being mean. I've also been in the fandom for a long time and had my fair share of arguments/pettiness so yo girl is TIRED and has seen it all lol. My policy always comes back to ship and let ship but don't be an asshole about it.

[nocasdatsgay]

I hope people realize that once Sarah does end the ship war, I’m still going to ship who I want.

Because ships and canon are not mutually exclusive of each other.

[lullabestie14]

Elriels act nasty so often that now I hesitate to say something about Elucien under cute posts that have Elucien vibes because I know that an Elriel will start being annoying for no reason

Literally! I used to see a lot of Gwynriel/Elucien content but now they’re getting fewer.and if I did see a video, the comments are always filled with Elriels fighting for their lives! Can they leave us alone? honestly it’s getting so annoying.

Tbh, I think this is inner insecurity. Gwynriels and Eluciens are mostly confident about their ship where Elriel are fighting in the comments but you don’t exactly know are they convincing us? or are they convincing themselves?

It’s very sad, seeing creators being scared to post Gwynriel/Elucine content just because of those nasty Elriels.

There is this ACOTAR creator that does videos of her acting like the characters. one video she acted like Gwyn then one of the comments asked her to do more of Gwyn, the creator replied saying that she would like that, but she’s scared from “you know who” and it’s really sad and annoying.

[velidewrites]

Lucien Vanserra has lost everything: his lover, his home, his friend. Now, on a Solstice night far too cold for the fire in his blood, he watches his mate slip away from him, too—right into the arms of another male.

He makes a promise then, to the stars who have never listened—he will no longer dream. From now on, Lucien is going to burn—and he’ll make sure the rest of the world burns with him.

Note: For @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Travel! This was going to be a long-shot but the plot ended up plotting too much and now it's a multi-chapter. I hope you enjoy this prologue!

Warnings: Sadness factory, Beron Vanserra (content warnings in later chapters!)

Read on AO3

Prologue

The Autumn woods hum a gentle song.

Elain wakes up to its melody, carried by the morning breeze. She’d never been here before—in Velaris, the season is dim and grey, even the Sidra losing some of its usual sparkle. She isn’t used to the splurge of colour, a spectrum of yellows and oranges and reds so vibrant that she can’t help but be grateful for her Fae eyesight, able to grasp it all.

The path she’d woken up on is veiled in what seems like a thousand autumn leaves, some of them bronze and trampled by hunting boots, some of them accompanied by large, heavy paws. The others, though, lay out a clear trail as they reflect the sunlight’s golden gleam.

Elain follows it without question. Without a shadow of a doubt.

She listens in to the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her own boots, strangely large and black, an unlikely fashion choice for someone such as herself. She dismisses the thought quickly, though, as a chirping bird flits past her—a new harmony in the Autumn song.

The quiet flow of a stream joins it eventually as she approaches it, each step quicker than the last. Her throat feels dry all of a sudden—as if the mere sight of the fresh, sparkling water had spurred the fire in her throat. She swallows the sensation patiently—after all, the sweet, relieving taste is within her reach.

Elain kneels by the stream and dips her hands into the water, frowning at the lack of the cool sensation she’d expected.

She tries again—and again.

The water never appears in her cupped palms, evading her completely.

Elain frowns and steps in closer, her reflection meeting her atop the flowing surface.

A gasp rips free from her throat—yet another sound joining the humming melody, sharp and unexpected compared to all the others. It does not belong here—she does not belong here, there is no question left in her mind about that.

She doesn’t belong here because the face staring back at here is not that of Elain Archeron’s.

She blinks, a golden, mechanical eye whirring with the movement. Elain gasps again, strong, powerful hands reaching to touch her face—Lucien’s face, handsome but brutally scarred as it ripples through his golden-brown skin. His full lips part in shock, his russet eye glints, and his auburn brows shoot up—the face staring back at her is, undeniably, her estranged mate’s.

Elain’s—Lucien’s hands begin to shake.

What is going on? those lips move, yet the question remains unspoken firmly in her mind.

Elain rises to her feet, though her limbs act without her accordance—they possess a mind of their own, moving wherever that song carries them. Elain realises then she is merely a bystander—she is not here to change, to enact, but to watch,

She is a Seer, and this is a vision.

Lucien’s reflection in the river ripples again, and his face begins to shift—the scars seem to sink beneath his skin, not even a faint, thin line creasing his cheek anymore. His face is smooth, as it used to be—long before she’d ever met him.

When she blinks again, the eyes change, too—they are a matching pair of russet, now, and though Elain knows these are the eyes Lucien was born with, she can’t help but feel uneasy at the sight. In their brief meetings, few of them as there had been, she had grown somewhat used to that golden eye, watching her closely even from across the room. She liked the way it caught the sunlight.

She has to make peace with Lucien’s immaculate face now, though. He looks back at his reflection one last time as he finally straightens—and Elain catches his arched ears perk up slightly, as though they’d just registered some sound before it truly even began.

He doesn’t turn, though—but Elain feels a smirk tug at the corner of his lips as the feeling of yet another presence registers for her, too. It lands somewhere behind them with a quiet thud—as though it had just fallen from high up in the trees.

Lucien finally turns, and the intruder comes into view.

The beautiful female has ivy growing from her tan skin, its stem curling around her limbs in certain places—her wrists, her ankles, parts of her exposed collarbone. The leaves of rich, blooming green offset her eyes nicely—two pools of tarnished gold, and for some reason, Elain imagines it shifts into bronze under certain angles. Her chestnut hair is a sea of untamed curls, falling down her back in loose rings, some of them tangling between the ivy stems. The veins beneath her wrists appear to be crafted from ivy, too—as if it grew directly beneath her skin. 

Her curves are wrapped in a brown dress that hugs her in just the right places—she truly looks like a goddess of the woods, having descended from the high trees to bless the world with her beauty.

And yet, when she finally speaks, her words stir confusion in Elain’s mind.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says with a wink.

If she only could, Elain would blink—but instead, she hears herself groan, a deep, male sound that seems to rumble straight from her broad chest. “Please, Jesminda—I have a reputation.”

The female steps in closer.

“Ah, yes.” She smirks. “Lucien Vanserra, the cruel Autumn Prince, feared by all.”

For the first time since Elain met him, Lucien seems bashful. “Well—”

The female—Jesminda—huffs. “No well. You know you’re the only one in your family with some semblance of a heart.” She angles her head. “You and your mother, maybe.”

A wave of sadness surges through her, one that is not her own though she feels it in her chest anyway. “I really wish you could meet her,” Lucien says.

Jesminda shrugs, though it is not carelessness that lifts her shoulders—she makes it seem like Lucien’s hopes and dreams are inevitable, like his mother is standing right behind him, waving at her with a wide smile on her face. “Maybe I will, one day.” She grimaces as she adds, “When your awful father dies and you duel your brother for the throne.”

The Autumn song seems to stop at that—even the river coming to a halt.

Lucien stirs. “You shouldn’t say such things, Jesminda. Here, even the forest listens.”

But goddesses do not fear the forest, and so Jesminda winks. “Then it’s a good thing I have my cruel Autumn prince to protect me.”

—

Elain wakes up with a jolt.

She looks over her limbs first—long and lithe, that hardened muscle nowhere in sight. Her shoulders fall slightly as her gaze moves on to land on her nightgown—definitely her own, a lavender lace she’d picked out recently while Solstice shopping on the streets of Velaris.

She looks out of her bedroom window—for a Seer, she’s not particularly good at navigating the darkness, but she can make out the plush winter snow as it gently floats down from the midnight sky, draping itself eventually over the cobblestone.

It is definitely her own bed she’s sitting on, too, the sheets a pale shade of yellow she had also picked out a few days earlier. Her racing heart begins to slow its pace when she finally makes sure she had found her way back into reality. She is a Seer, but she is also Elain Archeron.

She is a mistake.

Anger surges through her at the memory—anger, confusion and hurt—but she squashes it down immediately, too fresh to revisit just yet. Instead, she focuses on what the Sight has just shown her—on the vivid colours of Autumn, the familiar face and body she’d stepped into, and the unfamiliar presence crafted from the woods and ivy. Her visions have never felt like this—they have always been draped by a fog, the sounds and colours muffled through a wall of mist. And yet this time, she could feel the autumn breeze caressing her skin—could hear the song of the forest as though it was played by her own heart. This was not a vision—and decidedly not a glimpse into the future, considering Lucien’s scarless face and him being present in Autumn at all.

No, Elain decides. This was no future.

She had been pulled into the past.

She can’t quite wrap her head around it as what had to have been Lucien’s memory replays itself over and over in her mind, a strange feeling of dread building in her chest. Elain allows it to consume her, too curious for her own good to back out now—there is nothing else waiting for her there, anyway—only that anger, confusion and pain.

A quiet knock on the door eventually stirs her from her thoughts—she isn’t entirely sure how long she has allowed her mind to race—but she guesses minutes as her sister appears in the doorway, her own robe falling loosely over her shoulders as she wipes the sleep from her blue-grey eyes with a hand.

“Everything okay?” Feyre asks her.

Elain frowns. “I’m…not sure. Why do you ask?”

Feyre hesitates, and the pause only makes that dread in her chest intensify like a whirring mill. “Lucien just left,” her sister finally says.

A quiet oh is Elain’s only acknowledgement. When the golden thread tied to her rib tugs in protest, she adds, “Was it not expected?”

Feyre’s expression looks strange. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Those piercing eyes are unreadable as Feyre asks, “You…wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

“No,” Elain’s response comes immediately and invites no further questions.

Feyre’s throat bobs slightly—as though fighting to keep back the words she so obviously wants to utter. Mercifully, she only says, “Okay. Sorry to wake you,” and begins to back away.

Before she can well and truly understand what she is doing, Elain stops her with a, “Wait.”

Feyre halts, her tattooed hand tight around the doorknob. “Yes?”

Elain looses a shaky breath. For some reason, she is certain the question will only be the beginning of her problems. “Who is Jesminda?”

Elucien Week Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @melting-houses-of-gold @areyoudreaminof @fieldofdaisiies @kingofsummer93 @witchlingsandwyverns @gracie-rosee @stickyelectrons @selesera @sv0430 @vulpes-fennec @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @screaming-opossum @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @spell-cleavers @starfall-spirit @lectoradefics @this-is-rochelle @goldenmagnolias @labellefleur-sauvage @bookeater34 @capbuckyfalcon @betterthaneveryword @tasha2627 @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune

[temperedink]

temperedink Masterlist

Smut

you don't get well no more | AO3 - Elucien - Voyeur Azriel discovering Elucien's secret relationship

talk refined | AO3 - Elucien - Elain practices dirty talk

love me in chapters | AO3 - Nessian - Nesta shows Cassian what her romance novels are all about

can i be close to you | AO3 - Elucien - Elucien slowly taking their relationship to a new level

high in the moonlight | AO3 - Feysand - The High Lord and High Lady up in their room before a Court of Nightmares visit

the heartbreak prince | AO3 - Elain/Azriel/Gwyn - College AU with the DUMBEST, horniest Azriel you'll ever meet

Rated T or lower

Homecoming | AO3 - Rhys returns from UTM

Unlikely Alliances | AO3 - Rhys and Eris being frenemies UTM

Tea Time | AO3 - Feyre heads out for tea with the Suriel

Workout Gear | AO3 - Bryce brings some Midgardian workout clothes to the Valkyries

[exinewine]

All I'm saying, is that Sarah J. Maas is such a phenomenal writer that she created a world where it's riskier to publicly announce who you ship Elain with, than it is to declare your political affiliations 😂😅

[shallyne]

Sunshine and Reunions

This plays in the same universe as Sunshine and Promises BUT it is a oneshot that can be read seperately. You do not have to read the other fic.

Words: 1,533

TW: none

Elain gets sick and Lucien comes over to keep her company

Elain was rarely sick. The last cold she had was years ago when she was still in High School and since then, she was extremely lucky to not get sick. Until she woke up this morning and felt like she got hit by a bus. Her head was pounding and her nose was stuffy and her coughs made her wish she was dead. Well, not dead but a little less conscious because everytime she coughed, or sneezed, it felt like her head would just burst. Because she never got sick, she didn't have any medicine at home, which meant she would have to get up and go to a pharmacy. Now. But she couldn't get herself to leave her bed, not even to make herself tea.

Elain groaned into her pillow when her phone rang and she was tempted to just leave it ringing but she picked it up and looked at the display. Lucien Vanserra. Her Co-Worker.

Sighing, she picked up. "Hello?" she sniffed.

"You called in sick?" he asked immediately without greeting her.

"Yes." she replied, already exhausted from holding that damn phone.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sick." she answered.

"You're never sick." he countered as if it never crossed his mind that Elain could get a cold. She could also make out a hint of concern but she probably imagined that in her state.

"Trust me, I wish I would have lied but I really am. Thanks for your concern but I have to hang up now." Elain said, her voice cracking. "Goodbye." She hung up and threw her phone in the drawer of her night stand. When she settled back into her pillows, guilt overcame her. Of course she didn't blame Lucien for being curious, it was a well known fact how rarely Elain called in sick for work and she never intended to talk so unpleasant to him.

Yes, Elain owed him an apology but only after her nap. Everything had to wait until she woke up again.

Which was about three hours later when a loud knock pulled her out of a nightmare where her garden was on fire. Groaning she slipped on a dressing gown, heart still pounding from her dream and dizzy from her cold she walked to the front door. A knock sounded again. "I'm coming!" she snapped and opened the door with more vigor than she had anticipated, just to look into Lucien's russet eye. He held a brown paper bag, filled with whatever, Elain didn't know. She could just see something pink peeking out. He still wore his office attire, surprisingly. She knew that Lucien hated his attire and that the first thing he did after coming home was slipping Into something more comfortable.

"I brought you some medicine." Lucien interrupted her thoughts and plastered a smile on his face. "I thought you might be in need of this. I also got chicken soup. It doesn't compete with your own cooking of course, but it's alright."

Elain nodded, speechless. She hadn't expected Lucien to come over, she hadn't expected him to care. Yes, they talked a lot during their working hours but Elain always assumed he asked her all kinds of questions to keep up the small talk and because he was genuinely interested. She shook her head and stepped aside, "Come in."

Lucien nodded in thanks and as he stepped in her apartment, he quickly looked around and then went to the open kitchen to their right and placed the bag on the kitchen counter.

"Sit." he said, pointing to her couch. Elain did, without saying a word, smoothing her hair in the meantime. She must look terrible, she just woke up after all. Elain probably looked like she just fought a racoon.

A ripping sound came from the kitchen and then Lucien walked towards her. He put the medicine on the coffee table in front of them. It turned out the pink Elain had spotted was a very fluffy blanket that he now wrapped around her. "Is that okay?"

"Yes." Elain answered, smiling. She watched him as he went back to the kitchen and brewed her tea. As Lucien waited for the water to boil, he loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, showing his muscular forearm. His long, red hair was up in a ponytail and as he maneuvered himself through Elain’s kitchen, she looked at him in a wholly different light. At work he was just Lucien, she hadn't paid him a second glance while they just did their work or had smalltalk but now he was….attractive. Elain was glad for the sneeze that was coming, able to hide her blushing face but Lucien didn't miss a beat.

"What?" he asked as he looked back.

Elain quickly shook her head, her hair, still not brushed and wild as ever, flew in her face. With a sigh she brushed the few lingering strands away and said "Nothing. I was just…thinking." she wouldn't say she was a bad liar, not at all, but she really disliked doing it so she'd rather tell the truth but keep it vague. Lucien apparently wasn't one to accept vague answers.

"What about?"

So Elain told him a half-truth, much more personal but at least she can ignore this new, weird feeling when she looked at Lucien. "I am thinking a lot about my sister lately." Not a lie at all, she was thinking a lot about Feyre lately, it just wasn't the truth he implied.

"Nesta?" he asked. Elain looked at him, surprised. Lucien had remembered her sister's name.

She shook her head, "No, Feyre." she explained. "I am in contact with Nesta," rarely "but not with Feyre. I mean we aren't fully no contact, we text each other in holidays on birthdays but just generic stuff that everyone texts each other on these days." Elain shrugged, biting on her thumbnail. "I don't know, I miss her."

Lucien picked up a steaming bowl and cup and bought it over to Elain, putting it down on the table in front of her. She thanked him as she took the cup of tea and took her first tea.

"You should call her." Lucien said, perching in the arm roll of the couch.

Elain craned her neck to look up at him, "You really think so?"

Lucien extended his hand, as if he would take a curl of Elain’s untamed mane and wrap it around his finger but changing his mind in the last second and dropping his hand. "Yes, I think so. You miss her, so why not?"

"I'm scared she doesn't want any contact."

Lucien sighed, smiling at her. Not a condescending smile, but an understanding one. "Then you tried."

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment until Elain looked away and took the bowl of soup. "You're right." she said.

That was it about that topic. They kept having some smalltalk about work before Lucien had to get back to work, but he repeatedly told her that she can call him if she needs anything. Elain almost had to drag him out of the apartment so he wouldn't be late.

The rest of the day, Elain watched movies and did some work that she could do from home, her eyes always wandering to her phone until she grabs it around seven in the evening, and dialed Feyres number. Her heart squeezed painfully when she heard her sister's raw voice at the end of the line. "Hey Elain."

It was half past five and Lucien should already be home. Maybe he was grocery shopping or visiting a friend or working later, but Elain felt nervous. She sat on the steps at his apartment complex, a bouquet of flowers balancing on her legs. Maybe she shouldn't have taken the bouquet with her but she made it herself and felt, well, right.

She jumped when his car turned into the parking lot and watched him as he gathered his things and left his car. He immediately smiled when he spotted Elain. Lucien had that kind of smile that lit up a whole room. Lucien felt like a ray of sunshine after a storm.

"Elain," he said. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm disappointed, I'm just surprised."

Elain offered him the bouquet of flowers, "This is for you."

He smiled as he accepted them, but his expression turned confused, "What's the occasion?"

"It's a thank you," Elain explained. "For encouraging me to call my sister." she played with the hem of her floral blouse, "It turns out she's pregnant! I'm going to be an aunt."

"Wow!" Lucien said. "That's…congratulations!"

"Thank you." she said. "She just started announcing her pregnancy."

Lucien looked at her, understanding filling his features, the relief that was clearly written on Elain’s face. She wouldn't know how she would have reacted if Feyre wouldn't have told her at all, it just turned out Elain was quicker with contacting her. Although she felt bad for even questioning her about this. Before they all followed their own paths and went to college, Feyre was the glue that kept the family together. Maybe it was time to give something back.

[mariamcarreno]

Hola aqui mi dibujito #elucien

El fondo es una fotografía de la ciudad de Zermatt (la saqué de Google) para simular Velaris xd

Please don't repost without credits 💐

Characters belongs to Sarah J Maas 📚

Agradezco las interacciones🧡🔥🌸

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[ratabrasileira]

im actually so proud where im going with my artstyle and the fact that drawing/paiting are coming naturally to me again

it’s like breathing

[sunshinebingo]

Is there a cure for this "condition"? If there is I don't want it!

[houseofhurricane]

Ask Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for the tag @the-lonelybarricade @velidewrites @oncesneverenough

Currently Working

1. Against Nostalgia

2. queen of peace

3. neris novella

4. neris breeding kink

5. now later soon

On Hold

1. Band of Exiles Triad

2. Azris Sex Enemies!

3. love paid back

Drabbles That Are In Purgatory

1. Raze the World

2. nessian mating ceremony

3. jassa

Tagging: @iftheshoef1tz @poisonivy206 @separatist-apologist @ofduskanddreams @damedechance @vulpes-fennec @isterofimias @theleafpile @octobers-veryown @highladyofillyria

[adairnight]

Scrolling through the latest SJM insta post for the tea☕️:

- 60%: Elain's book (and some weird Elriels😐)

-20%: Az's book (stance undecided, maybe Azris🥴)

-19%: Gwynriel pls (and some weird Gwynriels😐)

-1% (even less tbh): CC3 or ToG novella or Eluciens (the babies🥺)

Don't even get me started on the toxic replies floating around.

[thehighladywrites]

gwynriel and elriel this, elucien that. pls they literally just need to fuck it out. i swear it’s never that serious. Why are some people actual enemies and wish each other death bc of this, they’re not real and i can’t stress this enough, FICTIONAL BEINGS AKA THEY ONLY LIVE ON PAPER

anyways i vote for all of them having massive foursome and getting together 🤷🏽‍♀️ all of them mated to each other.

Lucien and azriel would be such a cute combination that go on adventures all the time bc lucien would be able to relate to az, and elain and gwyn together???? pls they’re hyper fem/dear gf x warrior/hot gf just cute girlies…