#Elucien drabble
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Imagine Elain talking to Helion in the Night Court and Lucien talking to his mom in Autumn (post Beron).
They have seperately seeked advice from the only people they know who have broken their bond because they know they need to resolve their own soon.
Helion: It has been centuries since we broke it, but I can still feel it...feel her...
LOA: I thought it would make it easier, but I still long for him everyday...
Lucien feels the lightest tug on the bond, and he just knows what it means. He winnows straight to the Night Court and Elain is waiting for him outside the River House. The second they see each other, they run towards each other, in desperation. Elain flings herself into his arms and they kiss each other until they're breathless.
They're done fighting it ❤️
#We need dramatic running!#Elucien drabble#If you're inspired to write more on this then please steal it!#elucien#pro elucien#pro elain archeron#pro lucien vanserra#acotar theory
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Where Have the Bubbles Gone?
A silly Elucien NSFW drabble inspired by this stunning art by the talented @sarahsoba.
Word count: 1.5K | Rating: E
Elain shivered as Lucien’s hands stroked up and down her thighs, his lazy, contented grin turning a mischievous shade that she knew all too well.
“You know,” she teased, squirming a little in his lap, “the point of a bath is to get clean.”
His laugh was low and wicked, and Elain bit her lip to keep from smiling. She reached for her glass of bubbly wine and took a sip, if only to cool her rapidly boiling blood. The bubbles exploded on her tongue, as luxurious and intoxicating as Lucien’s hands roaming over her body.
“Can you blame me? It’s hard to think clean thoughts when you’re straddling me looking like that.” He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
“Looking like what?” she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side. She slowly ran her hands down his chest, digging her nails in just enough for a groan to slip from his throat.
Lucien sat up, water sloshing in the bath as he lowered his lips to her ear. Elain squirmed again, her pulse increasing. “Wet,” he whispered.
He leaned back in the water, bracing his hands on the side of the bath, his smirk one of pure male arrogance. Elain scooped a handful of the rapidly disappearing bubbles, blowing them into his face.
“Hey!” He threw a hand up, chuckling as he shielded his face from the lavender-scented bubbles. “What was that for?”
“For making assumptions you have no evidence of,” Elain said primly.
Even as she said it she adjusted herself in his lap until she was straddling one of his muscled thighs. It took a considerable amount of restraint to prevent herself from rubbing against him to relieve the growing ache between her legs. Even more so to keep from inching forward in his lap and feel the evidence of his own arousal press against her. The smell of lavender was heavy in the steamy air, but not enough to mask the salty, musky shift in his scent.
“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, his hands now trailing lightly up her sides. “Who’s thinking dirty thoughts now?” His thumbs lightly brushed the underside of her breasts, and her nipples pebbled at the touch.
His eyes dipped, his fiery, mismatched gaze growing hungry at the sight. Elain drank him in for a moment, his auburn hair shining like flames in the candle light, golden skin gleaming, lips curved into that maddening smirk.
“Well, can you blame me?” she asked. “When you’re sitting there looking like that?”
Lucien laughed again, his fingers inching higher until his thumbs were circling her nipples. “Looking like what?”
Elain rocked her hips once, just enough to make her breath hitch. Lucien’s heartbeat was racing as quickly as hers, though still he only grinned at her. Damn this male and his control.
No matter. She could play this game too.
“Like you know the bubbles are not the only thing getting blown tonight.”
“Shit.”
It was Elain’s turn to laugh as Lucien surged forward and yanked the plug from the bath. The water gurgled around them, the remaining bubbles disappearing until she spied what waited for her underneath the water.
Lucien dipped his head towards her neck as he reached around and grabbed handfuls of her ass to lift her hips up. “Is that so?” he murmured. His breath was warm against her ear. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, even with the water draining from the tub.
His hand dipped between her legs and they both groaned as his fingers slid through her slick folds, swirling lazily. “There’s my evidence,” he whispered.
Elain wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his neck, dropping the coy act as his fingers worked her maddeningly slowly. When one of his fingers slipped inside her she bit the crook of his neck to hold in her wanton moan.
Lucien hissed, smacking her ass playfully. “Naughty.”
She dropped a kiss to his reddened skin, and then another, all the way up his throat. Lucien groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips as she kissed all the way up to his ear. She dug her teeth into the soft flesh of his earlobe, chuckling as his breath hitched.
“Guess we’ll just have to take another bath after,” she teased.
Her teasing has the desired effect- Lucien’s fingers increased their pace, sending heat coiling deep in her belly. His fingers tangled in her hair, lifting her head up just enough for him to press his lips to hers. He kissed her, slowly, lazily, until her thighs trembled from the effort of holding herself up.
“Use your words,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips curled in a grin even as he kissed her. “Tell me what you want.”
Elain whined, and Lucien laughed softly. “You know what I want, you cocky bastard.” She wrapped her fingers against the base of his cock to accentuate her point, gripping him tightly. He groaned in response, his fingers faltering slightly as his hips jerked.
She pushed against his chest until he laid back against the side of the bath, chest heaving, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. His fingers slipped out of her to grip her hips tightly, holding her above him.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
She lowered herself an inch, until the swollen head of his cock rubbed against her soaked, sensitive flesh. “This.”
Another low, rumbling laugh. “I see. My mate wants my cock.”
Elain whined at his words. The golden cord wrapped around her ribs sang in response, coiling as tightly as the pleasure building inside her. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against his already leaking cock, shivering in anticipation.
“Yes.” It was becoming difficult to stay coherent with her brains leaking out of her ears. Damn him and his self-control. She’d make him beg later. With her mouth. The thought made her chuckle darkly.
“Then take it, my love.”
Elain lowered herself slowly, hissing at the sweet, sharp pain as she stretched to accommodate his size. Lucien’s hands were everywhere, rubbing up her thighs, her breasts, her ass, like he wanted to touch her everywhere at once.
A string of filthy praise fell from his lips as she rocked her hips slowly, finding her rhythm. “That’s it,” he murmured, head slumped back against the side of the bath. “Have your way with me. Use my cock.”
His words urged her on, and she moved faster, his hands guiding her as her hips lifted up and down. She tipped her head back, hands braced on his chest, reveling in the feel of having him like this, under her control.
“Fuck you’re a goddess.” His voice was ragged, as if his control was finally slipping, and a giggle slipped from her lips. She’d still make him beg later. Just for fun.
The bath was slick with leftover bubbles, the wet slap of their skin echoing around them as she rode his cock, hard and fast. Her rhythm faltered when his fingers slipped between them to rub her clit.
“Lucien,” his name fell from her lips in a breathless moan. She might be the one begging now, but that was fine.
Lucien pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and bracing his feet against the bath as he thrust up into her. Elain slumped against him, gripping him tightly as the edge of her vision started to shimmer with the promise of ecstasy.
“That’s it, love,” he groaned. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” His deep voice was husky and ragged, rumbling through her bones, and it was enough to tip her over the edge.
She shattered against him, biting his shoulder again to muffle her cries as pleasure rolled through her in a hot tidal wave. Her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood as her teeth sank into his skin. The taste made her feel wild, awakening some primal instinct inside of her, prolonging her pleasure.
My mate, the beast in her chest roared. Mine.
“Yours,” Lucien groaned in agreement, as if she had it out loud. She could feel him tensing underneath her as he slammed into her hard, and then stilled, groaning her name as his body shook with his own release.
She stayed slumped against him as their heartbeats slowed, both their bodies still shaking slightly. Eventually Lucien sat up, cradling her against him, and turned on the tap. Elain yawned against his neck, the warm water lulling her into a peaceful, sleepy daze.
“I’m not done with you.” Her words were slightly slurred with exhaustion, muffled as she pressed her face into his neck. “I’m going to make you beg.”
“Shhh. Of course you are, love.”
“Maybe tomorrow morning, though,” she relented, hugging his neck tighter as she yawned again.
Lucien chuckled softly as he gently cleaned her off. “Whatever you say, angel.”
Elain sighed in contentment, warm and safe in the arms of her mate.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @areyoudreaminof @hallway5 @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @separatist-apologist @corcracrow
#elucien#elucien fanfic#elucien fanfiction#elucien drabble#elucien smut#elain archeron#lucien vanserra
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A little Elucien drabble on this fine Wednesday?
Elain rushed out of the River House, the scream trapped in her throat.
The visions of potential futures plagued her sleep and cycled through her head. Everyone was dead while she stood by their mangled corpses, powerless to do anything else.
Feyre. Nesta. Azriel. Cassian. Rhysand. Lu-
A lump formed in her throat as her brain finished the thought. Elain fell to her knees and doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach into the grass.
She felt his presence moments before the warm hand landed on her back, rubbing comforting circles. It was not the first time he had checked on her in the aftermath of a vicious nightmare. His golden presence would hover soothingly from a distance, never outrightly interacting with her but letting her know that he was there, if she needed him. Today appeared to be the day that he knew she did.
She choked back a sob as she dry heaved, her brain still fixated on the macabre images.
"Tell me what you need," he requested with such gentleness that her heart tightened.
"Air," she rasped out, "I-I can't breathe."
The circular motions on her back paused, the heat from his hand still radiating, grounding her.
"Do you trust me?"
Her mind whirled. It felt like their relationship was at a fork, just waiting for a step to be taken in the right direction. If they wanted it, if she wanted it. She nodded before she could convince herself otherwise and let him winnow the both of them away.
A salty breeze kissed her skin and blew her hair back, tall wild grass beneath her feet tickled her legs. Elain shivered as she opened her eyes to the sight of the vast sea before her, the teeniest sliver of pink light flirting with the horizon. Her eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat at the mind numbing beauty.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, glancing around, "Where are we?"
"Dawn" he answered, a small smile playing on his lips.
Elain looked down at the waves lapping lazily against the cliff in the distance and mused, "What happens if I jump?"
His hand wrapped around hers, "Let's find out, together"
She observed his expression carefully, "You're serious?"
"Arms tucked by the side, head and body locked in perpendicular to the water." he instructed in response, humour lurking in his eyes.
Elain pulled the both of them right to the edge, daring him. The male cocked an eyebrow as if to say - do it then.
So Elain did.
With the smallest step, Elain flung the both of them into the air. An exhilarated laugh bubbled in her chest as they descended in free fall. Her face split into a wide grin.
When they resurfaced in the water, Elain was still sporting the wide grin. Her chest felt lighter than it had ever been. She threw her arms around Lucien, wrapping her petite body around his large frame.
"Thank you" she said in the barest of whispers.
As Lucien's arms circled around her, snugly enveloping her waist, Elain's brain was blissfully filled with nothing but him.
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Drabble idea: Auntie Elain and Nyx
Another Day Court drabble, if you don't mind 👀 I couldn't resist some Lucien & Nyx shenanigans!
A small warning for non-graphic mentions of blood!
“Stay still,” Elain hissed.
Amused, Lucien’s eyes glittered, but he obeyed nonetheless. “You’re still mad at me,” he noted.
Obviously.
“Not at all,” she said, pressing the gauze to his wound again. Even though it had been fifteen minutes since the accident, his temple was still seeping red. Slowly, yes—but still. She did not enjoy the sight of blood on her mate’s immaculate face.
Elain dropped the soaked compress to the stool beside her, reaching for its replacement—soft, the fabric a pristine white. For now, she thought bitterly.
Lucien eyed the discarded cloth. “It should have healed by now,” he muttered, more to himself than Elain, earning a small huff from his mate.
“Perhaps Fae healing doesn’t work when such stupidity is involved,” she observed stiffly. Lucien only chuckled, the sound immediately followed by a sharp breath as Elain pressed the gauze to the open cut. “I told you to stay still,” she instructed.
“I am,” he said, even as he twitched in his seat.
Another chuckle—from behind her this time. “Don’t mind her, uncle Lucien,” a light voice chimed in sweetly, “I think you’re going to look awesome with another scar.”
Elain whipped back, crossing her arms at the sight of the sly smirk on her nephew’s face. “Stop encouraging him,” she warned. "He loves that."
Nyx grinned. “Sorry, auntie.” A glance at Lucien. “I really meant it, though.”
Lucien rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you did.”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful,” Elain suggested, turning back to lean over her mate again, “Pass me another cloth, please. This one’s already soaking.”
The boy sighed dramatically, but he moved to his aunt’s side, digging into the healing kit.
“It’s not that bad,” Lucien argued, resting his hand on Elain’s hip. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he added, his voice quieter now as his thumb brushed her side reassuringly.
“I don’t believe you,” Elain said, her own fingers gently grazing his cheek as she countered, “A Pegasus kicked you in the face.”
Nyx laughed.
“I’m sorry, Elain,” Lucien said earnestly, his other hand reaching for hers. “I was just trying to impress the kid.” He pressed a small kiss to her knuckles.
“It was really funny,” the boy agreed.
Elain lifted a brow. “Was it, now?”
“I can show you, if you’d like!” her nephew offered, voice high with excitement.
A crooked smile tugged on Lucien’s mouth. “Let’s not embarrass me in front of your aunt anymore, Nyx,” he pleaded. “But I am glad to hear your daemati powers are improving.”
His violet eyes twinkled. “Uncle Cassian crashed into a tree during our patrol last week,” he told them. “I could show you that, if you’d like?”
Elain only sighed.
#elucien drabble#elucien#pro elucien#elain x lucien#elain archeron#elain acotar#lucien vanserra#lucien spell cleaver#lucien acotar#elucien fic#day court elucien#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my writing
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Day 3: Sunshine
Summary: Elain enjoys a picnic with Lucien, pondering the future they'll share in Day.
AN: This event is my first time posting Elucien. Naturally, I ask you to be polite in your feedback.
Read on Ao3
Word Count: 658
CW: None
He was far too handsome for his own good. Elain was all too aware he knew that as he lounged on the thin blanket spread out beneath them, a glint of golden sun catching in the red of his hair as the mid-summer breeze ruffle the strands that weren't pinned beneath his shoulders. "I can feel you staring, mate."
He smirked slightly as she settled on her elbow beside him, his eyes still closed against the light peaking through the leaves swaying above them. "Sometimes I wonder when I'm going to wake up."
Lucien peeled his eyes open, rolling onto his side to mirror his mate. "What do you mean, love?"
She fiddled with a fallen leaf. "Things have always been... For years and years, it's been one danger or drama or expectation after the next. And now..."
Now she was happy. Her future was bright, unrestrained by conflict or social expectations. She had the leisure to build a real relationship with her sisters even as she no longer depended on them so entirely. She had the freedom to build a life of her own with the male she loved with her whole heart. To spend the rest of her long, long life in his arms, content to lie beneath the sun day after day with only the sounds of bright laughter and music and unadulterated joy around them.
That's not to say the Day Court was flawless. Every person and place had their faults. But it was a far cry from the first few years she spent in Prythian, one court as cold as the next as they tried to piece together a war-cleaved continent. She hadn't bore the brunt of it and she'd never try to claim she had. But it had still been an exhausting few years.
Middle sister.
Mediator.
Gentle and good and kind and perfect.
Breaking away was the most terrifying and exhilarating thing she had ever done, to be frank. And it had brought her here, out of the box she had been pushed into as a girl and into a whole new way of seeing the world.
"Now I'm free of it all and waiting for reality to set in. For some conflict or conundrum to shatter this dreamscape." Her mate hummed, an arm curling around her waist so she was forced to shift with him when he rolled onto his back again. Contentment shuttered down the thread between them as she buried her face in his chest, letting their legs tangle around one another. Full from their picnic with the warmth of the high sun around them it would be all too easy to drift to sleep there, she knew. Another little element of this utopia of theirs. "It all feels too perfect to last."
His fingers tangled in her unbound hair, stroking from her scalp to the curled ends before repeating the motion. "I've never taken kindly to good fortune either," he murmured. "At least, not until you came along. It was far too fleeting to trust. But with the war behind us, the courts near peace, our bond officiated, here with my true family and you at my side... I'm willing to risk it."
"Can you promise me this is forever?"
He smiled, kissing her hair. "No, my love. But I can promise it's the beginning of a brilliance to bloom. And I'll push Lady Luck as long as I'm able if that means we'll have our happily ever after."
"Promise?"
"By the sun above us," he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "By the moon to rise." Another kiss fell under her jaw before he raised his head again, lips just inches from her own. "Every star that falls or burns for us night after night. By the very bond between us, I swear with all I am, Elain, we'll have a lifetime of joy and light."
And as his lips finally found hers, she believed.
~~~~~
General/Elucien taglist:
@elucienweekofficial // @goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @vulpes-fennec // @headcanonheadcase // @aldbooks // @panicatthenightcourt // @corcracrow // @jennity-blog
#elucienweek2023#acotar#elucien#day 3#prompt: sunshine#elucien drabble#one shot#elucien fanfic#lowkey nervous to post#i hope you guys like it
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Elucien | Birthday Cake
happy belated birthday to @velidewrites 💛 this is for you!!
type:fluff, a bit suggestive
"It‘s perfect." Lucien’s lips brush against Elain’s forhead.
A grin spreads over her face and she fists her mate’s shirt, pulling him even closer. "I hope it also tastes good," Elain murmurs and softly pecks her mate’s chest. His scent is once again absolutely marvellous— woodsy and earthy, with a touch of rich and lush spices.
"It will be delicious, I know it," Lucien mumbles and leans back slightly. "But I will find out right away."
Elain wants to move away so Lucien can taste the birthday cake she has made for me. Confusion laces her insides though when Lucien does not move away but rather leans into her. His warm breath tickles her skin and just a second later she feels his tongue —his damn tongue— lick a tiny stroke over her left cheek.
The Archeron sister gasps, eyes widening. It is Lucien’s chuckle, the rich tenor reverberating through her, that makes her toes curl. His eyes are full of joy and love when they meet hers.
"Delicious, as I said," the fiery male grins, and brings his mate in for another hug. His chest rumbles against his mate’s when a wholehearted snd warm laugh lesves him. He momentarily buries his face in Elain’s hair, drawing in her beguiling scent.
"I had dough on my face?" Elain finally brings out. Heat rushes into her face, filling her cheeks with colour. She leans back, smiling sheepishly.
"I think it was cream and—" Lucien’s thumb tentatively swipes down to the corner of her mouth, "there is a little bit more."
Elain’s giggle quickly dies down when her mate’s thumb eases her lips apart, sliding into her mouth. Heat radiates from every fiber of the Autumn Court male’s body, his eyes ablaze.
There is a tiny spark of mischief in Elain’s eyes when she softly flicks her tongue against the tip of Lucien’s thumb, then gives it a tiny suck.
Lucien’s low growl of approval sends damp heat right into her core, her knees threatening to buckle.
Thumb withdrawn from her mouth, Lucien acts quickly and heaves his mate onto the counter behind her. He shoves her thighs apart, moving between them, hands cradling her face. "Thank you. Thank you so much for this cake. It is my very first birthday cake that has ever been selfmade by a loved one."
Lucien’s lashes dampen when he presses his forehead against his mate’s. Elain curls her arms around Lucien’s waist, her chest shuddering slightly.
"Good thing is," she says, hoping to cheer him up, "that this won’t be your last birthday cake. Or cake in general. From now on you will get one every week. Every day!"
Elain grins when she tilts her head back and meets her mate’s gaze.
Giving his head little shake, he smiles with his breathtaking, stunning Vanserra smile.
"I truly don’t deserve you, Lady Elain."
That makes the Archeron sister roll her eyes, but before she can argue against his statement, Lucien leans into her ear, his large, warm hands sliding over thighs and grabbing her hips. "Good thing is also that this lovely cake isn’t the only delicious thing I get to savour tonight." He chuckles lowly and kisses her pointed ear when a slight tremor courses through Elain.
She sucks in a sharp breath and brushes her cheek against her mate’s.
"It is your birthday, shouldn’t I be the one devouring you tonight?"
Lucien kisses the spot right beneath her ear. "Worshipping and savouring you is the greatest gift I could get for my birthday, Elain. So, please." His voice is alsmost begging, like he truly could not think of anything better—he really can’t.
Their lips meet in a soft yet passionate kiss that has them both gasping, hands already clawing at the others clothes. Lucien’s hands slides Elain’s dress up, her hand freeing Lucien’s hair of the leather strap holding them in. It is the Vanserra brother who moans first, Elain’s other hand sliding over his—
"Not on the kitchen counter!"
This bastard, Lucien thinks when he pulls back from the kiss and turn towards a smirking Jurian who has his arm wrapped Vassa who wears an equally amused expression on her face.
"Really?" Lucien grumbles and shakes his head. Elain think her head might explode with heat, her eyes trained on her mate’s broad shoulders.
"Just yesterday you reprimanded us for making out on the kitchen counter and now look at you, fireling," Vassa says with raise of her brow.
Lucien rolls his eyes. "I said 'not on the dining table' and—"
"This was a joke, Lu. We are heading out. You have the house to yourself the whole night, to celebrate, eat cake and…do other things." Jurian winks and Vassa adds, "But tomorrow, big birthday party. With all of us. Have a good night you two and happy birthday again."
"Thank you," Lucien says, his heart swelling with happiness about his friends. And the beautiful female still sitting on the counter.
Vassa gives Elain thumbs up before they turn around and head for the door. Elain also wuickly shouts a thank you after them and then fully turns her attention back to her mate.
"Cake and then bedroom?"
"Sounds like an incredible plan," Lucien grins and kisses his mate’s nose. "Good gods, Elain, I love you so much. More than I thought to ever be possible."
~~~~~~~~
tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @azrielsbitxh
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A Pinch of Sugar
Summary: Elain is enjoying a blissfully quiet day of making jam at the townhouse in Velaris when an unexpected visitor drops by: Lucien, who hasn't been to Velaris is months. Elain's curiosity and the freedom of being alone for the first time in ages prompts her to try to learn more about the male who is her mate.
@elucienweek2022 , Day 7: Free Day!
(Inspired by me daydreaming about elucien while making jam)
Elain tiptoes down the stairs of the townhouse, a silken robe wrapped around her as she makes her way to the kitchen. The bright, morning sunlight streams through the windows of the blissfully quiet townhouse. The only sound is the light patter of her bare feet against the wooden floors as she bustles around, preparing her morning cup of tea.
Elain relishes the quiet. The townhouse is rarely so peaceful.
Rhysand and Feyre had taken Nyx to the beach for the day, and as much as Elain dotes on her little nephew, she is glad that the house is completely silent for once.
Elain loves her family, she really does. But boy, was she glad when Feyre had announced last night that she and her little family would be taking a day trip. Ever since the tyke was born a year ago, Elain had not had a moment of true peace. Sharing space with an infant was not ideal for the tranquility she had come to enjoy in her day to day life.
It doesn't help that Cassian and Nesta tend to invite themselves over more often than not, and are just about the loudest two people in all of Velaris. And with Amren, Morrigan, and Azriel constantly stopping by, it seems that the house is never empty.
But now, relishing the long-awaited quiet, Elain's thoughts wander as she sips her tea, thinking up a dozen possibilities for how she might spend her day of relaxation.
The sweet and tangy flavor of the raspberry tea on her tongue suddenly awakens a thought.
It happens to be the time of year for the berry harvest. And it's been a while since she'd done any baking on her own.
A smile curves her lips as a plan takes shape in her mind. It seems the market is where she will be heading first.
~~~
Hands on her hips, Elain stands in the centre of the townhouse kitchen, silently assessing the multi-colored heaps of every possible type of berry littering every surface. Her golden-brown curls are tied away from her face with a pastel-blue ribbon, a similar hue to the simple day dress she wears, one that she is not worried about getting a little dirty or stained.
Jam.
That's her plan.
Years ago, before their father had lost all his wealth, Elain had never been allowed in the kitchen. It wasn't proper for a lady to busy herself with cooking, they had plenty of servants who took care of that. But Elain had loved the kitchen, all the smells, the warmth, but most of all, the constant activity that kept the place always buzzing. When she was very young she would often come down to the kitchen to hide from her mother and her constant etiquette essons. Of course, her mother always found her and promptly sent her right back.
"The work would roughen up your hands," she would scold as she dragged Elain away from the kitchen's warmth. "No prince wants a wife with callused hands. A lady should be soft and smooth, like silk."
Eventually, Elain softened to her mother's wishes and occupied her time with hobbies she would approve of: embroidery, music, the clipping of a garden rose here and there. She discovered that she quite enjoyed the conventional pastimes of a lady.
And usually, Elain would abide by her mother's strict rules regarding the kitchen. Except for once a year, during the harvest, when all the various berries of the field were perfectly ripe and Elain would throw all etiquette out the window. When the household cook, a kind, middle-aged woman named Fiona, would whip up the most delicious batch of berry jam she'd ever tasted. On those days, Elain was, first and foremost, Fiona's personal jam-making assistant. She would taste-test the batches as they cooked, and always tried to sneak in just a little bit more sugar.
Her stomach growls, drawing her out from her reminiscing. She was already hungry just thinking about it.
Fastening an apron around her waist, Elain sets about washing and quartering the berries, and then tossing them into an awaiting pot, already full of sugar, enough to satisfy her very-demanding sweet-tooth.
The house echoes with the gentle thud of the knife against the cutting board and the soft notes of the simple melody as she hums to herself.
Nearly all of the berries have been cleaned and diced when a knock at the door sounds, jarring in the quiet.
Elain pauses her work, a grumble escaping her lips.
She'd thought the peace and quiet might have lasted a little longer but there was always someone dropping by the townhouse.
"Come in," she calls, already prepared to give Nesta or Morrigan or whoever it was an earful for disturbing her only quiet day in months.
The soft trudge of booted feet on the entryway carpet has her ears pricking up, along with a gentle tug against her ribs.
It's not Nesta. Or anyone of Feyre's troop.
Instead, Elain finds herself face to face with a tan, scarred face, one russet eye and one of metallic gold studying her.
Lucien.
Her heart gives a stutter.
Her mate is impeccably dressed, as always. His wine-colored hair is pulled back in a loose braid, leaving the sharp lines of his face on display and wonderfully complementing the emerald-green jacket and cream-colored pants he wears, all fitting snuggly against his muscled chest and thighs.
She snaps her gaze back to his face before he can notice her staring.
He is clearly not expecting her as well because his eyes are wide before he clears his throat and inclines his head in greeting.
"Good morning, my lady."
The melodic tone of his voice sends butterflies fluttering in her stomach but she shoves them away. Her tongue is a stone in her mouth.
Of all the people to drop in today.
Lucien hasn't been in Velaris for months. Seven months, to be exact, not that she was counting.
"I hope I'm not intruding," he continues when she says nothing. "I was looking for Feyre, I thought I might find her..."
He trails off, a sudden burst of panic crossing his face.
"Cauldron, Elain, are you alright?"
His gaze is caught on her hands, on the glorious shade of red coating her palms and fingers.
At the concern on his face, her tongue suddenly loosens, embarrassment causing her cheeks to heat.
"Oh!" she gasps, slightly flustered that he'd noticed. She furiosuly rubs at the stains with her apron. "Yes, it's just berry juice."
Relief washes over his features, followed by a look of curiosity. "Berry juice?"
She nods, a polite smile rising to her lips. "I'm making jam."
Lucien's face is blank as his eyes sweep around the kitchen, taking in the mess of berry juice and sugar on every surface and then back to her appearance which, she is sure, is equally as messy.
He blinks. "Jam?"
Something tugs in her gut at the bewilderment in his eyes, prompting a laugh that almost escapes her. Elain doesn't think she's ever seen the emissary at such a loss for words.
She simply hums in confirmation and turns back to her work, hiding the smile growing with each passing second that Lucien remains tongue-tied. She's only managed to surprise him into silence once before when she'd dealt the fatal blow to the King of Hybern on that bloody battlefield years ago, but now, Elain feels that she quite enjoys her ability to shock the ever-composed male.
A few seconds of silence pass, and she takes up the paring knife again, the only sound being that of it against the wooden board. She is aware of Lucien's eyes following her every movement, waiting for her to speak again. A part of her wants to squirm under his gaze, to remain silent until he decides to leave. But another part of her, a stronger part, enjoys the feeling of his eyes focused wholly on her, of his presence in the room, and whispers "stay".
She can hear his heart beating rapidly down the bond, further exciting that other, wild thing within her chest.
Her curiosity gets the better of her.
Glancing over her shoulder she points to a wooden stirring spoon sitting on the table and says, "You can help, if you'd like."
His heartbeat stutters at the same time hers does.
She's just invited him to stay. She's never done that before.
Lucien's face is composed as he nods to her, though the beating of his heart down the bond tells her a different story.
"As you wish, my lady."
She turns back to her berries before he can see the flush now coloring her cheeks pink.
He's going to stay.
With her.
Alone.
A little voice in the back of her head chimes "improper" but she promptly tells it to shut up.
If she was going to learn more about the male who is her mate, what better time than this? She wouldn't have to endure Feyre's prodding or Nesta's judgemental stare. Or anyone else in Rhysand and Feyre's inner circle side-eying her like they did every Solstice when Lucien was around.
They would never know.
It would be her little secret.
A small part of her is excited at that.
Glancing back at the red-headed male, she finds him looking ridiculously lost, passing the stirring spoon from hand to hand as he cautiously studies the recipe she has open on the kitchen table.
This time, Elain fails to hold back her laugh.
It rings out, breaking the silence of the house.
Lucien immediately glances up from the recipe. Another emotion like amusement flickers down the bond, and a smile tugs at his lips in response to her own.
"Here," she says, holding an apron out to him.
He takes it, his fingers brushing against hers, warm and callused.
Though the moment is brief, a spark lights underneath her skin where it meets his, and the bond between them hums, as if awakened for the first time in a long while.
And for the first time, Elain doesn't shy away from the feeling.
Meeting one eye of russet and one of gold, her lips curl into a smile as she points to the apron in his hands.
"You can start by putting that on."
~~~
#thought i'd try my hand at writing a little fic#because this idea has been floating around in my head for like a year now#elucien#elucienweek2022#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#acotar#elain x lucien#elain and lucien#elucien fanfiction#elucien drabble#elucien aesthetic#my fic
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Sorry it took so long, but...
Heart of the Matter Elucien Bonus Scene is finally up!
#gwynriel#elucien drabble#elucien#lucien x elain#lucien and elain#heart of the matter#acotar elucien#lucien acotar#elain x lucien#gwynriel fanfiction#elucien fanfiction#one shot#bonus scene#gwynriel holiday modern au#gwynriel au#my writing#give me your heart for christmas
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I Think we Danced Last Night
a short and sweet elucien drabble :)
...
Her head rested against his shoulder, her skin warmed his through his shirt. The music wafted through the kitchen on a midnight breeze. The sound was slow and quiet and barely there, but that didn’t stop them from finding the rhythm, from moving with it. The chin that was sharp on his shoulder turned into a smooth forehead. The tense muscles in her back relaxed. The stubborn hand, stiff by her side, relented to his.
A new old house, loved and lived, part of a new timeline. An early morning. A makeshift table formed of cardboard boxes. Paper plates loaded with breakfast takeout - pastries, hot sandwiches, fruit, muffins.
Across from Lucien, Elain would not meet his gaze. She opted for a quiet side conversation with Feyre rather than be pulled in with the rest of the group.
There was no sound, not even the swish of clothes, as they moved so slowly around the room. Another breeze found its way through the open window, swirled around them, played with their hair and tickled their skin. The kitchen tile was cold on her bare feet, so she stood on his sock-clad ones. Even then, the top of her head barely reached his chin. He did not startle at the extra weight, he did not wobble; he only continued to sway.
Bubbly chatter rang through the house. It had been too long since it had held so much cheer, so much laughter. The house was happy, it looked forward to future late-night dances and mid-morning breakfasts. The food itself was nothing too special, but the meal was pleasant; simple, and joyous. If only she would just look at him.
At some point, her arms had crept around his middle. She did not give them permission to do so, but she couldn’t bring herself to remove them. One of his hands rested at her waist, the other hand cradled hers, his thumb massaging small circles into her skin. There was no instigating when the hand on her waist slipped to the small of her back, no sneaky attempt to do anything more than hold her closer.
When their breakfast atop moving boxes came to an end and everyone had turned their attention to unpacking said boxes, he followed her into the kitchen, taking used disposable dishes and climbing through the maze of moving supplies.
He looked down at her, drinking in every detail. Feathery lashes resting against round, rosy cheeks. Honey brown hair tumbling down her back. Full, pink lips, relaxed. No smile, but no frown. Not a single line of stress to be found upon her face.
He dropped his chin, rested it on the crown of her head. Her hair smelled sweet, wild, fresh. No scented products, just her.
Somewhere, a dog barked. Static interfered with the music. A car alarm went off. But they ignored it all, ignored everything but each other, and continued their slow, lazy dance.
The morning fog began to burn off. Mist dissipated, roofs steamed, sun shone. Golden light cut through the wide kitchen window, highlighted chips in the tile, shaded splits in the wood. His hair caught fire in the buttery light, hers became molten honey. She faced outside, paper plates forgotten beside her.
“Elain,” Lucien’s voice was quiet, only for her to hear. “What are we doing?”
He watched her throat work as she swallowed thickly. “We’re helping Feyre and Rhys move in, get settled.”
Lucien stepped closer, rested his hands on the counter, bracketed her between his arms. He rested his chin on her head. “I meant the question in terms of you and I.”
Her face turned up towards his. Chocolate eyes met russet and gold. Her arms slithered from his waist, came up to embrace his neck. She stepped off his feet. Raised to her tiptoes. Stared at his lips. Examined his eyes. Traced his scar. Brought her lips up to his. Kissed him softly and slowly and sweetly.
And still, they swayed.
She turned to face him, still ensnared by his arms. “I do not understand.” Her eyes refused to meet his.
“Well you see,” He leaned in, tried to catch her line of sight. “I think we danced last night.”
She gave a noncommittal hum.
“And,” he rasped. “I think we kissed last night. But, I could be wrong. So tell me, Elain, what do you think? What did we do? What are we doing?”
Her hands ran through his long, fiery locks. So gentle, so soft. She loosened his tangles, smoothed it to silk, uncovered his face. Their lips did not part, their bodies did not still. The music went on, their feet kept moving, and their arms held tighter.
“I think…” Her eyes flicked to his, then back down. “That we did dance last night.”
One corner of his mouth hitched up. “Mm-hmm.”
“I also think,” Her voice was little more than a whisper; hard to hear over the laughter of their family and friends in the sitting room. “That we kissed last night.”
The radio was cut off. Next door, there was a distant sound of murmured goodnights, of windows shutting and doors closing.
Their lips parted, their eyes opened, she let herself down from her tiptoes. Slowly, reluctantly, they eased away. She walked past him for the stairs, he walked past her for the living room; hands pulling apart at the last second. They glanced one last time, both blushing, hearts aching, before leaving through different doorways.
Outside the window, birds chirped. Down the street, children laughed and played beneath the rising sun. Inside, they drew closer.
“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t a dream then.” He bent over, got down to eye level. “Are you glad too?”
At her hesitation, Lucien began to pull his arms away. Elain pulled them back, held both of his hands and dragged him closer than he had been before. At last, she met his gaze. Her eyes wandered over his face, absorbed the sight of his mismatched eyes, his silky hair, his worried brow, his half smile.
“Yes, Lucien.” Elain’s voice, softer than flower petals, finally directed at him. “I am very glad.”
Link to my main master list
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Oooo could I request number 7 for Elucien 👀💕
Taylor Swift lyric prompts
I Miss You Too Much to Be Mad Anymore
He had pissed her off somehow. That much was abundantly clear, but for the life of him Lucien could not figure out what he could possibly have done. They were months away from their anniversary, Valentine’s Day, or her birthday. He hadn’t missed either of her sisters’ birthdays. As far as he could remember he hadn’t canceled plans with her to hang out with his friends, and they hadn’t argued about anything recently.
But Elain was mad at him. Even from hundreds of miles away he could tell. Lucien could read her moods more easily than he could read his own.
She was normally so excited to go on her research trips for her job as landscape designer at the botanical garden, but this week something was off. Usually his phone would have been pinging all week long with incoming photos and videos of various local flora from wherever she was visiting, accompanied by detailed descriptions and arguments for whether they would survive or not in their climate. At night she always face-timed from the hotel, sleepy but bright-eyed.
She’d been gone for five days, and other than a quick message from the airport saying that she had made it, he had barely heard from her. Lucien might have thought she’d been abducted, were it not for the short, punctuated messages she sent when he inquired about her day or asked if he could call. When Elain used periods in her text messages Lucien always knew he was in trouble.
He just needed to figure out what he had done.
He thumbed a quick message, bracing himself for radio silence as he pressed send.
Another successful day in paradise? Hope you’re having fun. Miss you. Give me a call if you can!
Flirtation usually worked when she was cranky. A few neck kisses, (bonus points if they were from behind), some whispered words in her ear, a well-timed heated look, and she’d be smiling and bright-eyed again. But without the physical aspect at his disposal he’d have to be more creative. Unless….
He hesitated, and then quickly typed another message.
Our bed is so cold without you
Lucien took the stairs two at a time up to their bedroom, discarding his t-shirt along the way. Feeling supremely foolish, he chucked off his pants and slid under the covers, draping them low over his hips. He schooled his features into his best devilish grin, the one he knew she couldn’t resist, and snapped a selfie.
See? So lonely without you…
His phone rang less than a minute later. He chuckled, breathing a sigh of relief as Elain’s sun-rosy cheeks filled his screen.
“Hi love,” he said.
Elain was biting her lip in the way he knew meant she was trying to keep herself from smiling.
“Hi.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Of course,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Lucien fixed her with a searching look. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did something happen on your trip?”
Elain sighed. “No. Nothing like that.”
So definitely something he did.
“Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”
Elain seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then she sighed again, finally looking at him directly. “No. I miss you too much to be mad anymore.”
Lucien’s stomach lurched with a pang of guilt. “What did I do?” he asked, sitting up in bed. “Just tell me.”
“It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “Just forget it. It’s stupid.”
“Elain, please. I don’t think anything you have to say it stupid.”
She averted her gaze again, and then mumbled something unintelligible.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I said, you didn’t hide anything. In my suitcase. But it’s fine. Like I said, it’s stupid, I just missed you…”
A weight lifted off Lucien’s shoulders as realization hit him. The first time Elain had gone on a business trip he had slipped one of his t-shirts and a note into her luggage, as a joke. So you won’t forget about me, the note had said. The tradition had stuck, and every time she went away he hid something in her suitcase. A piece of clothing, a book, a dried flower.
Lucien grinned, shaking his head at his wife affectionately. “Love. Have you worn any socks this week?”
Elain frowned. “What?”
“Did you wear any socks this week?” he repeated, holding in a laugh.
Elain’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. She dropped the phone to the bed, judging from his sudden view of her hotel room ceiling. He could hear the sound of rustling as she dug through the contents of her suitcase. There was a gasp of delight, and then her face filled his screen again, along with a crumpled piece of paper.
“You made me a playlist!”
“It’s on my Spotify. I know it’s not as romantic as an old school mix tape, but…”
“I love it,” she said, pressing the paper to her chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too, silly.”
“I’m sorry I was grumpy.”
Lucien smiled devilishly. “However will you make it up to me?”
Elain’s cheeks turned pink as her gaze slid down his bare chest. “That depends. What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me!” he retorted with mock affront. “Why should you get a reward?” As he spoke he kicked off his boxers as surreptitiously as he could.
“Because I asked first,” she said simply, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now show me.”
“Your wish is my command, my love.”
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @areyoudreaminof @hallway5 @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @separatist-apologist
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We’ll Be Alright
A/N: I got screwed over by a trusted coworker and really needed some soft Elucien to make myself feel better. I hope this small drabble brings you as much joy as it did for me. Inspired by Be Alright by Lucy Rose and written with this amazing art by @krem-does-stuff in mind.
Elain relishes in the feeling of the side of her head pressed into the broad chest, the warm and steady thumping of his heart beneath her cheek. Her body tingles where a large muscular arm encircles snugly around her waist. Their combined bodies sway in time to the low gentle tune emitting from the portable speaker. And her heart, it feels oh so deliciously and impossibly full.
She feels the beginning of a smile creep onto her face and lifts the corner of her lips. She lifts her head and looks into beautiful mismatched russet and gold eyes. Even the mechanical eye seems to sparkle back at her. She takes a moment to soak in the way the dim light of their cabin glides along golden brown skin, casting dancing shadows on strong sculpted facial features. It takes her breath away because he is oh so beautiful.
And her heart.
Elain nearly gasps at the fluttering sensation in her stomach. It takes the thumping organ sitting above in her chest along with the ride. It sputters and stalls. Before she’s fully aware, the words fall out of her.
“I love you”
His eyes widen a little, his lips part.
He has to have known it all these past months. Known it every time she appears at his doorstep, clutching a Tupperware of his favourite baked goods. Known it every time she sends him a meme of something that made her laugh, wanting, needing him to feel the same joy. Known it every time they lay between the sheets and snuggle together after, hot flushed bodies intertwined. Known it even after she kissed him after he first said the words, her doe eyes pleading, unable to say them back to him.
Then slowly but surely, those lips she love curl upwards. Lucien glows, happiness lights up every feature and radiates from him. It is infectious and sweeps her away.
The music seemingly fades and there is nothing but them. The words are lilting and chiming when they reach her, lighting her heart. Every part of her feels like it is floating. Like she’s untethered in space, she could float away forever.
“I love you too”
He catches her. Of course he does. There is never a fear when it comes to Lucien. Elain has known it for a while. Even if it took her some time to identify the feeling, to find the words.
With a splitting smile, she lowers her face back to his chest. Her eyes fall shut as strong arms tighten around her. They start to sway again.
And we danced until the morning light. / And you said to me, you said / We’ll be alright. / We’ll be alright.
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Come To The Day Court, We Have Orgies
Helion goes way too far when he decides to host a city-wide orgy in his new heir’s name.
Pairing: Elain x Lucien
Word Count: 906
Warnings: None, just shenaniganry
***
Petrified, Elain stared at the letter.
The thick piece parchment in her hands glittered with golden swirls that made up the letters—the words she’d been replaying in her head for the past two minutes. Two minutes which, frankly, had started to feel like an eternity.
Elain blinked, then read the invitation again—slowly. Then again. And then one more time.
The letters twinkled—some strange Day Court spell must’ve given them a life of their own, seemingly mocking her surprise. Surprise wasn’t the right way to put it, really. It was pure, unrestrained shock that had frozen her limbs into place.
Perhaps she was experiencing a vision—surely this could not be happening, not in real life. Behind the foggy chaos of her mind, anything was possible—even…this.
“Elain!”
Elain flinched. “What?”
Her sister’s blue-grey eyes levelled on her. “I must have called your name a million times,” she said, brows knitting in confusion. “Are you alright?”
Elain swallowed. Hard. “I’m…not sure.”
Feyre’s gaze dropped to the parchment in her hands. “What’s this?”
Elain hugged the pamphlet closer to her body, shielding the shining letters from view. “Nothing important.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Feyre judged, “You’re white as a ghost.” She moved a step closer. “What is it? You know you can tell me,” she added, her face creased with worry.
She did—yet still, words seemed to had fled her mind. Elain opened her mouth, then closed it—how in the world could she explain the invitation she’d just received?
Feyre huffed impatiently, moving closer toward the window where Elain stood. She’d been enjoying the view—her garden at the River House had truly been the loveliest in spring—when her gaze had darted to the letter, abandoned in the pile on the coffee table, adorned by the official Day Court seal and addressed to her.
Of course, Elain had opened it right away, curiosity getting the best of her—curiosity she now damned to the Cauldron’s wrath. Had she not been so intrigued, perhaps she wouldn’t have been dealing with his alone now. Lucien was supposed to be arriving soon, and she’d much rather have him with her while she tried to figure out her response.
Her response to Helion Spellcleaver’s invitation to the biggest celebration of the year. To the official—
“Day Court orgy?” Feyre asked behind her shoulder, her eyes wide.
Elain only stared.
“Give me that,” Feyre took the paper from Elain’s hands, scanning its contents closely. “He’s hosting it in Lucien’s name?”
Elain nodded weakly. “To celebrate his new heir.”
Her sister read the invitation again.
“Tell me I’m imagining this, Feyre.”
But Feyre’s brows furrowed as she read out the scheduled date. “How come we weren’t invited?”
Elain blinked.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I thought we were good friends,” Feyre muttered, ignoring the question entirely. She looked up at Elain again, something quizzical in her stare. “Does Lucien know?”
Oh, gods. Did her mate even know what his father had planned?
“Does Lucien know what?” a voice, rich and deep like honey over her skin, sounded from the doorway.
Elain whirled towards it—towards Lucien, her gaze landing on his. Those eyes of russet and gold sparkled, the way they always did whenever they met her own. For a moment, everything in the world was right again.
Feyre pressed the letter back into Elain’s hands. “I better go check on Nyx,” she said quickly, Lucien’s confused look escorting her out of the room.
Sorry, Feyre’s chuckle slid into her mind, and Elain only huffed.
Lucien’s full lips curled into a sly smile as he offered his mate a deep bow. “My lady,” he greeted. The words had usually sent shivers down her spine—but right now, Elain had other things on her mind.
Seemingly sensing this, Lucien rose, an incredulous look playing on his handsome features as he approached her. “Something wrong?”
Wordlessly, Elain handed him the letter.
She watched his eyes widen as they moved over the words.
And then, again.
And again.
“Lucien?”
Lucien looked at her, horrified. “I’ll be right back.”
And with that, he winnowed away.
***
“Everyone is staring,” Lucien murmured.
Laughing, Elain stroked his shoulder, her touch light over his bare, golden-brown skin—over the golden cuff wrapped around his bicep. In the past two days, Elain had grown particularly fond of the regal piece, insisting he keep it on at all times. Lucien, of course, was more than happy to oblige.
The throne room was filled with people—scholars, nobility and regular citizens of the Court alike—all, mercifully, dressed. It had taken an intervention from Lucien’s mother for Helion to finally realise that, perhaps, a ball was a more appropriate means of honouring his heir than…well. Whatever else the High Lord had planned.
“Relax,” Elain told him, her face beaming with pride—just as it had been the entire night. “It’s almost over.”
“You don’t know my father,” he said, though a certain warmth washed over him at the words. His father. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? His family. "He'll keep this party going for hours."
Elain smiled, understanding shining on her beautiful face. “Well then,” she began, a teasing sparkle in her eye. “Perhaps it’s time for us to retreat to your chambers.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Oh?”
Elain winked. “I may have planned a party of our own.”
Now that was an invitation he’d gladly accept.
#i don't know who wrote this but it wasn't me#no one is allowed to say a word#elucien drabble#elucien#pro elucien#elain x lucien#elain archeron#elain acotar#lucien vanserra#lucien spell cleaver#lucien acotar#elucien fic#day court elucien#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my writing
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Elain Watches Lucien Chop Wood 😏
a drabble for @elucienweek2022 day six, home
Elain watched rapturously through the window as Lucien shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in white shirt and dark green trousers held up by suspenders.
He rolled back the cuffs of his shirt to expose the sun-darkened, golden brown skin of his forearms; the veins crisscrossing the corded muscles visible even from where she stood.
Lucien bent over to pick up the axe, giving Elain an ideal view of his perfectly sculpted ass, and those thickly muscled thighs she loved digging her fingers into. She watched the muscles in his back contract and ripple beneath the thin linen as he stood.
Her heartbeat sped up as he hefted the axe over his shoulder and swung with enough strength to split the thick log as if it had been butter left in a patch of sunlight. Elain’s thighs shifted together as she observed.
He did this every day, and every single time she watched until he came back inside, desperate to give him something else to do with those warm, calloused hands.
@headcanonheadcase @hlizr50 @mystical-blaise @vikingmagic33
#elucienweek2022#lumberjack Lucien#Elain is thirsty#lucien spell cleaver#lucien vanserra#elain acotar#elain archeron#elucien#elucien supremacy#elucien smut#lowkey#kinda spicy#acotar#elain x lucien#elucien drabble#elucien headcanons#acotar headcanon
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Tequila
No one asked for this. I know I should finish the final 1k words of THTBM (and I am), but in the meantime, take this little drabble instead. I keep wanting to write an Outlander-ish fic where modern Elain tumbles into Amarantha held Prythian.
This is Elain when she returns.
-
One year.
It had been one year since she’d walked back over that wall, since…since life had tumbled and shifted and made anew. Since him. It was hardly any time at all, in Elain’s estimation and yet within that year, a lifetime. Elain stared at the empty table in front of her and the shiny, rounded bottle filled with amber tequila.
What do you miss most? He had asked her this once, curious about this world she swore she was from. Stranger, then, a man forcing her to remain on an estate she didn’t belong, wearing a mask that deeply unsettled her.
Tequila, she’d replied dryly. It was hardly the truth—what Elain had missed most was a stand-up shower. He’d peered down at her, those russet and gold eyes so curious.
Explain it to me.
How did she explain tequila? The same was she tried to explain her absence when she’d returned. Two years lost, the police had said. Dehydrated but otherwise well, the doctors had assured her. Traumatized, her friends had decided. Kidnapped. Elain could only stare helplessly, unable to explain it. What did tequila taste like?
How does love feel?
There was no equivalent for it in the real world. The concept of soul-mates was a diluted, dull thing in the light of that shining, snapping cord she’d once felt. Severed the moment her fingers touched the rough rocks, guided by his hands.
Go home, he’d told her, his body solid and warm just behind. I can’t protect you here.
She hadn’t fought, had only silently cried, fingers outstretched until she felt that hook behind her navel and that shredding of their bond.
Mates, he’d breathed one day, eyes wild through that fox mask. You’re my mate.
She’d only stared, rubbing at a pulsating bruise on her rib cage. Explain it to me.
How did he explain to her what love felt like?
He’d tried, stumbling over his explanation and for a moment, she’d felt only horror. Tied to this man, this stranger…and yet, in the night, Elain had felt relief. Safe. Nothing had ever felt right in her entire life and falling through a wall, tumbling through space and time, to this place with immortal beings and…and yet the world sighed in response. The ache she felt, the loneliness she’d carried with her, was answered with one word.
Mate.
Cursed, masked, tied to a land he could never leave. Oh, how she’d tried, how she’d held her breath when his fingers had reached forward, trembling, only for nothing to happen. I belong here. You don’t.
She belonged with him. To him.
I am yours and you are mine.
He was trapped in a prison she could never free him of and she was trapped in hell. How could she move on? The world felt empty, a yawning stretch of black abyss she had to plod through until she died, hoping she’d see him again in another life. Every night, Elain closed her eyes and there he was, hidden behind that mask, eyes gleaming, a question on his lips.
Tell me the year you were born.
What is your favorite flower?
Sing me a song.
She’d never explain a car or a cellphone or any of the other millions of things to him again, eyes sparkling with mischief as he accused her of making things up. She’d never feel his body shift in the night when nightmares took him, would never see that exact shade of red.
Elain uncorked her tequila, pouring the liquid into a crystal glass in front of her. One year, what did it amount to? That ache, that longing, the missing? The worry he’d died and she wasn’t their to mourn, that he suffered alone? She wanted to get back on a plane and run to that wall, to damn the consequences and die beside him.
Mates.
A cruel twist of fate, the worst kind of joke the universe had ever played. Letting her see him, knowing him, touch him, only to take him back. This is all you get.
It wasn’t enough. She was greedy. Elain took a breath, swallowing a mouthful of that burning poison.
It tastes terrible at first, she’d said after a moment of thought.
Why drink it at all, then?
It feels good, if only for a moment.
Elain shoved the empty glass away from her, eyes stinging with tears, throat burning. Her chest caved, robbing her of breath.
How does love feel?
The same. It felt the same.
#elucien#elucien drabble#elain x lucien#PAIN? FROM ME???#i know im growing#anyway i want to write it but idk if i ever will so enjoy this instead#i needed to get it out of the brain
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My one and only contribution for @elucienweek2022, because Elorcan Week had to be my priority (since I helped host).
This was inspired by the prompt from @mercarimari:
"If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I'd say yes." "What about today?"
Read on AO3
Lucien sat on the edge of his mattress, head in his hands. He’d really fucking done it. Always pushing too hard. Daring too much to hope. He’d thought the signs were there, that he and Elain were finally on the path he’d dreamed they would walk. His mate and he, on the road to acceptance.
She was beautiful, but of course everyone who had eyes knew that. But he had become entranced with the sway of her hips. The way her cheeks bloomed with rose dust when he said something suggestive. The way she tried so hard to act like she wasn’t staring at him, or she didn’t like the things he said, but the sweet, heady scent of her arousal betrayed her every time.
He’d fallen for her kindness, her ferocity, the way her eyes lit up when he asked about her garden. He was hers. Irrevocably. He had been for quite some time.
And of all the things he thought might happen when he’d declared that to her - when he’d looked deep into those rich brown eyes and told her he was in love with her - he never dreamed that she would run.
Lucien had only stood there, frozen and staring at the door long after it had stopped swinging on its hinges. She had run from him. His lovely, perfect vixen had gasped. Tensed. Stared at him, wide-eyed. She’d whispered his name, but didn’t smile, and his heart had cracked when she’d bolted. Like a doe in the forest who had heard a twig snap under a hunter’s boot.
He’d hardly moved once he fell back onto the edge of the bed, wondering how it could have gone so wrong. The touches. The kisses. The embraces. They had shared so much, had grown so much closer in the past few months. Had it not meant the same to her that it had to him?
The autumn fae was vaguely aware that the sun had set. He’d been there for hours, staring at the door, running fingers through his hair, burying his face in his hands.
And then, in the doorway, there she was. Looking much more disheveled, tendrils of her hair hanging limply from the crown she’d braided that morning. Lucien absorbed every detail, branding her upon his brain. Sure this would be the last time he would see his mate before she took her leave of him. Her eyes were wide and shimmering, cheeks pink and blotchy. As if she’d been crying, and he cursed himself again for scaring her away. He wanted to speak, wanted to go to her, but he was frozen with the fear of what would happen if he did.
“Lucien,” she breathed, and then she burst into the room, falling on her knees before him and grasping his hands. “Please, Lucien. Please forgive me,” she pleaded, head bowed. He could see her shoulders shaking. Hear the desperation in her voice. His brows knitted as he tried to understand what it all meant.
Sliding from the mattress he knelt before her. “Elain?”
Her head snapped up, and he fell into the maelstrom of emotion that met his gaze. She dropped his hands in favor of cupping his face, her expression beseeching. “I panicked, Lucien, and I am so very sorry. I just felt so much. Too much. And I had spent so long knowing that I would never find love again. That I would never be happy in this body and in this life. I couldn’t sift through it all. Couldn’t break the surface long enough to tell you.” She lifted herself to press her lips to his in the most achingly tender kiss. And when she pulled back, it was only long enough for her to touch her brow to his. “You have captured my whole heart, Lucien. There is no part of me that is not yours. Body, mind, soul. You are the most infuriating, arrogant, insufferable male I’ve ever known.” He huffed a laugh, and her answering giggle was wet with her teary declaration.
“And you are also patient, and compassionate, and so dreadfully kind, even when I haven’t deserved it. And if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”
His eyes widened, and his fingers trembled as he traced the calloused pads over her cheeks, her jaw, her lips and her neck. Lucien’s heart had been broken and mended by this woman before him - this beautiful, gentle, stubborn creature. His mate. Who was, indeed, as enamored with him as he was with her. With that realization he cupped her nape, pulling her mouth back to his own. This kiss was demanding and deep, a melding of heart and soul through lips and tongue. His question and her answer. His declaration and her echo.
They broke apart, each panting as they refilled their lungs. And he knew that he would not go another day without her, after having felt the loss of her. It had been only a few hours, but that emptiness had been enough to last his near-immortal lifetime.
“What if I asked today?”
Elain smiled, wide and unafraid and unburdened. She nodded, a fresh well of tears flowing over her lashes. Lucien kissed her again, their tears mixing upon their skin and on the floor. And when each of them could finally breathe again he helped her tuck her hair back into her braids and found a lovely dress of the palest yellow chiffon in her wardrobe. Then they nearly ran, hand in hand, to the temple on the outskirts of the forest. For the Mother to bless their union. To embark on their life’s journey together.
@mystical-blaise @vikingmagic33 @headcanonheadcase @ofduskanddreams @tealnymph-writes @daevastanner @booknerd87
#elucien#elucien week#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#elain x lucien#lucien x elain#acotar#sarah j maas#sjm#elucien drabble
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Here's the thing... Feyre processed her mating bond by painting the cabin, and Nesta processed hers by being with her friends and talking about romance novels.
Can you imagine Lucien walking into wherever Elain was staying to process their bond and just seeing all the products of her stress baking - pastries, cookies, cakes, all kinds of bread including sourdough, pizza, doughnuts, and she says, "Pick one, they're all for you anyway"?
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