Fuck yes, Elucien!

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[fuckyeselucien]

A dedicated place for all positive Elucien content!

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[renehart13657]

A Court of Loss and Love is updated!

💕💕

Chapter 5 is up and I’m already editing chapter 6. This may be longer than seven chapters. I’m so excited!! And we’re going to Spring! And Eris is there! And it gets a little steamy

[feathersandfateverse]

A reimagining of Elain and Lucien’s story, inspired by Swan Lake and shaped through countless hours of headcanon discussions and worldbuilding. This interconnected series of drabbles and replies, written by myself and Jollybean, deviates from canon to craft a unique take on their love story. Each piece builds upon the last, best read in order for full immersion in our carefully woven narrative.

Thank you to everyone who reads, please leave us comments! 

Link

Love, 

Peachie & JollyBean

[winterinvelaris]

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh?

Elain Archeron, inspired by Taylor Swift's grammy look 🌷

(Don't miss the L charm on her leg 🥰🦊)

[elucienweekofficial]

Warm weather and bright sunshine is coming 🔆🌼

See you in July!

[jadedbugart]

Bath time for Elucien

rub a dub dub

[famouscyclenerd]

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

- A Court of Wings and Ruin

[aldaryan]

Jealousy

Day 1 : First Kiss - Elucien

For @sjmromanceweek

First time I write in English, that I post on Tumblr and that I write in ten years. Anyway, enjoy and do not hesitate to let me know what and how I should improve.

Summary : Elain's jealousy and repressed feelings lead her to an interesting path towards her mate.

A broken sound cut through the animated party. One by one, all the heads turned to the origin of it. There she was. Standing, hand bleeding slowly, Elain did not look like her actual composed self. 

Plop, plop, plop. 

A blink.

“Elain” murmured Nesta, shocked.  

The young female ignored her sister, taking small, controlled steps towards her goal, walking across glass shards. 

Crunk, crunk, crunk

A frown.

“Elain, what…” uttered Feyre, trying to grip her sister’s arm. 

Also ignored by the Cauldron-made fae, who gracefully side-step her to avoid being blocked. Elain, breathing heavily, finally stopped in front of a handsome red-headed male, overlooking the human queen gripping his arm. 

Woosh, woosh, woosh 

A snarl. 

Flicking away with her non-injured hand, the queen’s arm, Elain clutched the lapel of the green tunic, smearing her blood, a strange feeling of satisfaction within her. Leaving the sentiment to be examined later, she gripped harder at the tunic and the male wearing it well, and she dragged him to her gardens. 

Boom, boom boom

Boom, boom, BOOM

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM

She was drowning herself in the sound of Lucien’s heart? She did not stop until she got close to the Sidra river, far away from prying eyes.  

Reaching the bank, she abruptly turned back, colliding with her mate. 

Mine, miNE, MINE

The rage would not abate. 

He was hers. Hers. 

She dropped her head against the male’s chest, trying desperately to calm down. Even his lovely scent could not settle her. 

“What, in the Cauldron’s name, was that ?” said incredulously the redhead.  

She snarled at his tone, lifted her head and finally, finally she looked at his face.  His handsome, confused and stern face. 

She was so angry. At the Inner Circle, at that male and most of all at herself.  

“Well, are you going to say something? Or should we just listen to the sound of the river ?” grunted the fae. 

“Shut up !” He recoiled, almost taking a step back, only stopped by Elain’s hands, still clutching his tunic fiercely. “Shut up ! Shut up ! Shut up”

“Why don’t you try anymore ?” pursued Elain, still raging. “You take Emerie fishing and teach her how to survive in the wild. You spent entire afternoons with Gwyn at the library and even took the time to show Nesta some Autumn Court sword movements !”

She plowed on, a stormy inferno fueling her words. 

“And, of course, you see Feyre and Nyx ! And always when I am not there ! And let's not forget the days and nights you have with the firebird queen !”

“And Jurian, don’t forget,” added teasingly the male. 

Elain made a sound of disgust, ready to let go. 

“Elain,” he said softly, clinging to her hands, “Emerie, Gwyn and even Nesta, I helped them because yes, they are becoming my friends, but mostly because I could hear about you through them.” He twirled a strand of her hair, admiring its softness. “Nyx is lovely and Feyre is complicated and Vassa a friend. A friend who heard me talking about you, again and again.”

“Don’t you know it ? You are my favorite subject.” he smiled sadly. “I wish to see only you, to hear only you and to be only with you.”

“Lucien, I…” started Elain, but she let the words die on her lips. Instead, she stood on her tiptoe and she kissed him. She had dreamed of kissing for months but nothing could compare to the reality of kissing Lucien and to be kissed back. 

Passion, joy, tenderness. A strong undercurrent of desire. And the possibility of love. Everything they didn’t say for months, years was poured in that kiss. Finally, they separated, sharing a breath. 

“Lucien, I am sorry, I should have let you know sooner”  whispered Elain. “But I want to try, now.”

“You bossy little thing” muttered Lucien, nuzzling her nose. “We have years Elain. You will fall irrevocably in love with me and we will have a thousand years together.”

“Am I not the Seer, here ?” joked softly the fae female. 

“Mmm, but first I do not want to lose you to blood loss. Give me your hand, Elain.”

A shiver went through her at his authoritative tone. Lucien did not comment but his raised eyebrow and small smirk said it all. 

“Oh shut up.” huffed the browned eyed female, giving her bloodied hand. 

“Definitely the words of the night” joked Lucien, deposing a small kiss on her wrist. 

They both watched as the wounds closed, leaving no trace on her skin. 

“Elain?”

“Mmm?” she 

“Will you kiss me again or should I make you jealous first ?”

“You think you are funny” growled Elain. 

“I know I am and hands-” Lucien was not able to finish his thought since Elain kissed him again. But he didn’t mind. 

He didn’t mind at all.

[pagelover]

On Elain and Lucien:

Her constant need for sunlight and him being day court heir. Flowers need light to bloom. She was her father’s favorite and he is the only man that’s spoken and spent time with him. I think him being able to talk about traveling with him with play into them getting to know each other. They both want to travel and are known to do well as the talker at parties.

He gave her the space she wanted to grieve her former life and relationship and now she either needs to talk with him so she can reject the bond or meet him as a romantic prospect. He has been very respectful of her decisions so my guess is she will demand he either make a move or leave or he will grow tired of her not making a decision either way. He’ll want clarity so he can try to move on if necessary.

We know he is a fantastic flirt but he hasn’t tried to woo her at all yet. When life has been breathed back into her character and he starts bantering, I think they’ll flow nicely. If Feyre and Rhys are the rulers, Nesta and Cassian are warriors, then Elain and Lucien are the courtiers.

[starsreminisce]

SJM Romance Week Day One First Kiss

Firefly

wordcount: 5040 for @sjmromanceweek

Summary: The day after the Winter Solstice, Elain couldn’t shake the guilt of not giving Lucien a present. So when he mentioned something he would like, she found herself accepting the challenge. Meanwhile, Lucien hadn’t expected Elain to actually follow through. Now he was faced with the reality of spending time alone with his mate in a court he had yet to realize he was heir to.

----

The sun rose on the morning after the Winter Solstice, its pale light spilling across the River House, but Elain couldn’t shake the frown from her face. She stretched as she sat up, her muscles aching from two days of exhausting celebrations. Today was supposed to be a day of peace, but her mind had other plans.

Continue below or read on AO3

Lucien had been at both gatherings. At the Hewn City celebration, he’d looked infuriatingly good in black, flirting with every female who so much as glanced his way. She had ignored him. Or tried to. It was hard when he had ignored her right back, easily sidestepping her existence. Then, the smaller Inner Circle gathering had been even stranger. He’d spent the evening deep in debate with Nesta—Nesta—about the proper reading order of Sellyn Drake’s novels, apparently because the emotional impact of the smut depended on it.

It had been impossible to ignore him then. Or the way he’d smiled, genuinely, like he belonged.

Elain sighed. Something nagged at the back of her mind—some forgotten task—but she couldn’t grasp it. Whatever it was, it could wait. Her sisters, Nesta’s new friends and the batboys were heading to the cabin today for the annual snowball fight. She had opted to stay behind, preferring the quietness. Besides, if Lucien had been invited—and of course, he probably had—she didn’t want to watch him fit seamlessly into their world again.

Prick.

Dressing in something simple, she distracted herself by planning her day: snacks to prepare, sales to browse. And no, she had not memorized the book order Lucien had suggested. She wasn’t about to give Sellyn Drake a chance. Definitely not.

As she descended the stairs, she passed the scattered piles of opened presents from last night. Her gaze snagged on her own pile—and the gift from Lucien perched at the top. It was simple: a jar designed to maintain the perfect temperature for a sourdough starter, complete with a color indicator and a matching proofing bowl. She scowled. How had he known? After weeks of struggling with flat, dense loaves in her cold kitchen, this was exactly what she’d wanted.

The problem wasn’t the gift. The problem was what it meant. She didn’t want to return it, but she didn’t want him to think she’d used it, either.

Elain exhaled sharply and made her way to the kitchen, trying to shove thoughts of him aside. She cooked her breakfast—porridge and eggs—eating slowly as she tried to remember what she’d forgotten.

Then, of course, Lucien walked in.

Elain froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. 

He rubbed his good eye as he stumbled into the room, his auburn hair tousled from sleep. And, because the Cauldron clearly hated her, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or anything under those low-slung sleep pants that seemed designed to make her suffer.

She told herself to look away. She didn’t.

The muscles in his scarred back shifted as he crossed to the icebox. He grabbed a jug of water and drank deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. Her eyes followed the movement, lingering on the faint flex of his throat, the sharp line of his jaw, the toned planes of his torso.

She stared.

He cracked open one eye and caught her looking.

She stared.

His eyebrow arched, amusement flickering across his face. “It’s not polite to stare,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

Her face burned. “Good morning,” she said though the words came out a bit too high-pitched.

Lucien made a low noise deep in his throat—too soft to decipher, but just gravelly enough to make her scowl. She pressed her lips into a tight line, stabbing her porridge with unnecessary force as he leaned against the counter as though he owned the place.

Prick.

“Why aren’t you at the cabin?” he asked, his tone casual. Too casual.

Elain sat up straighter, ignoring the question. She was about to deliver silence in response when her gaze caught on the way he rubbed his shoulder, his eyes closed in slow, deliberate motion.

“Oh, right,” Lucien drawled, cracking one eye open. “I forget you don’t like talking to me.”

Her grip tightened on the spoon. “It’s not polite not to offer a greeting,” she muttered, returning her attention to her meal.

“It’s not polite to stare either.”

Insufferable prick.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” Elain said sweetly, her words honeyed with mockery. She kept her eyes fixed on her porridge, but the sting in her voice carried her meaning well enough. He hadn’t noticed her for two straight days—why should it matter now?

“Did you want me to?”

Her hand froze mid-stir. 

Insufferable. Prick.

“Why aren’t you at the cabin?” she asked, throwing his own question back at him.

Lucien huffed a laugh. His mechanical eye clicked softly as he rubbed the heel of his palm against his temple. Still trying to wake up, apparently.

“Not a morning person?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Gods, what was wrong with her today?

“I’m not the heir to the Dawn Court,” Lucien replied dryly, stifling a yawn. “And I have work.”

“Work?” she echoed, disbelief sharpening her tone.

Lucien smirked, that lopsided grin tugging at his lips, sending a tight coil of something she refused to name straight into her stomach. “It’s nice to see your father wasn’t exaggerating when he said you ask too many questions—at least when you’re interested in something.”

She ignored the jab, though the bite of his words lingered. Instead, she focused on what irked her most: Lucien was likely the only member of the Night Court working today.

“So, no presents and you have to work?”

“So many questions,” he drawled, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “And so early in the morning.”

Elain didn’t respond, just stared at him with the pointed weight of her silence.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind it. Autumn Court doesn’t celebrate Winter Solstice, so presents aren’t much of a tradition there. And I chose to work today.”

“I know about the Autumn Court,” she said with a frown. “But the Spring Court does exchange presents for Solstice.”

The moment the words left her mouth, her stomach dropped. She had revealed too much, hadn’t she? Too much about how closely she had followed his movements over the years. Not that it had been hard to keep track—he was, after all, an emissary for two different courts. And she wanted to be one for the Night Court.

That was all. Nothing more.

But the gnawing discomfort at the edge of her thoughts said otherwise. She glanced at him, at the faint glint of curiosity in his russet eye, the way his lips quirked slightly, like he knew exactly what her words implied.

She fumbled for some excuse, something to mask the truth. She could say it was natural, as a future emissary, to track the movements of someone in his position. She could even say her sisters had mentioned him in passing.

But none of it would explain the sharp twist in her stomach, the knot that had been tightening since he’d walked into the kitchen—barefoot and aggravatingly at ease in her presence.

The same knot that pulled tighter now as he held her gaze, waiting.

Elain’s lips pressed into a thin line. She made a decision right then and there: she had been absolutely right to ignore him for years.

Lucien’s smirk softened slightly as though he were trying to puzzle out her sudden mood. She barely understood it herself—why it bothered her so much to see him here, gifting her something thoughtful, when she hadn’t given him anything in return.

“Do you not like what I got you?” he asked at last, his voice gentler now, yet threaded with enough curiosity to unsettle her. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you return it.”

“It’s not fair,” she said abruptly, shoving a mouthful of porridge into her mouth before he could reply.

Lucien’s brows lifted slightly, curiosity sparking in his good eye. “What’s not fair?”

She chewed slowly, her gaze darting away. “Did they even invite you?”

“They did, but…” He trailed off, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before his smirk returned, easy and practiced.

Lucien cocked his head, watching her with that maddening mix of amusement and interest, his voice dropping to a lower register. “Do you want to join me?”

“No, thank you,” Elain said quickly, her voice clipped.

He chuckled, the sound low and grating, setting her teeth on edge. “I won’t tell anyone you decided to spend time with your mate—”

Her lips tightened.

“—Even though it would’ve been a lovely present for me,” he finished, his smirk widening as he leaned back slightly, as though deliberately giving her space to react.

Elain narrowed her eyes, heat rising in her cheeks. “You’d consider that a present?”

He shrugged again, maddeningly nonchalant. “Of course,” he said, his russet eye gleaming as he studied her. “But only if you wanted to.”

She stabbed at her porridge again as he turned toward the door. “Where are you going?”

“Day Court,” he said over his shoulder.

Her stomach churned at the answer. Another party, no doubt. Another gathering where Lucien would mingle, flirt, charm everyone in the room until they adored him, while she…

“What time are you going?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

—-

Lucien sent a quick prayer to the Cauldron. Several, actually, over the course of the morning. Not that it mattered—the Cauldron clearly hated him.

He shot another glance at Elain as she wandered through the opulent, sun-drenched halls of the Day Court palace, her wide eyes filled with awe. She looked… radiant, the sunlight catching in her hair, softening the edges of her face, making her glow in a way that nearly had him forgetting where he was.

And that dress. Gods above and below, that dress.

Some sundress she’d picked out—light, airy, and apparently chosen because she’d “heard that’s what they wore.” It left just enough to his imagination to drive him mad, while still managing to guide him right to everything he had no business staring at.

Like her ass.

Lucien clenched his jaw and looked away, cursing himself. He wasn’t thinking when he’d extended the invitation, sleep-addled and impulsive. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to accept, let alone wait for him by the entrance. Yet here she was, breezing through the Day Court’s palace as if she belonged.

And somehow, his prayers for strength only seemed to be answered with temptation.

“Do we need to set some ground rules?” he asked, desperate for a distraction.

Elain turned to him, those wide eyes meeting his. “Ground rules?”

“Again with the questions.”

Her scowl was instant, and gods, it was adorable.

“Last thing I need is to cause an incident that makes you run to Rhys and demand he wipe my mind,” Lucien teased, lips twitching.

Elain rolled her eyes, though her lips quirked in a way that said she was trying not to smile. “Then I’ll let you know if you’re being inappropriate.”

“Oh?” He cocked a brow. “You intend to stick close to me?”

She arched her brow right back. “You’ve been quite bold and sassy this whole morning. Why? All the attention has gone straight to your head?”

Lucien’s grin spread, and he opened his mouth to respond when a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned just as a Day Court courtier glided toward them, her sundress a shimmering cascade of golden fabric.

Roxy.

Lucien suppressed a groan, fighting to keep his irritation from his face. She was one of the pushier courtiers, persistent in a way that was almost impressive. And sure enough, she extended her hand, her smile demure and pointed.

With a sigh that he kept to himself, Lucien took her hand and brushed a quick kiss over her knuckles. “Good morning, Roxy.”

Her smile brightened. “Good morning, Lucien.”

He felt the weight of Elain’s eyes on him that radiated heat that he didn’t dare glance at. Instead, he gestured toward her. “May I introduce … erm … Lady Elain Archeron, visiting from the Night Court.”

Elain stepped forward, her smile as sweet as honey—and twice as sharp. “My mate thought I would love to see the Day Court,” she said smoothly, her tone light and innocent as she laid the word mate down like a card on the table. “The Solstice is so different here than in other courts, after all.”

Lucien’s heart stuttered.

She’d said it. Acknowledged it. His title. His place. Their bond.

The words settled in his chest, stealing his breath even as his mind scrambled to decipher her intent. Was it a barb? A line to put Roxy in her place? Or was it something else—something softer, something he couldn’t bring himself to hope for?

But Roxy had already taken the hint, her smile faltering before she quickly excused herself, murmuring something about other duties.

Elain stood there, serene and unbothered—or so she wanted to appear. But Lucien didn’t miss the faint flush high on her cheeks or the way her gaze flitted to the gilded walls rather than to him.

“I wasn’t expecting you to—” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the words catching somewhere in his throat.

“Shall we continue?” she cut in smoothly, clapping her hands once as though the moment had never existed. Before he could answer, she turned, striding toward the next set of sunlit halls.

Lucien’s gaze dipped, traitorous as ever, watching the sway of her hips in that damn sundress.

And then she turned, her brow arching in challenge, as if she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

“Well?”

“Coming, my fawn,” Lucien murmured, unable to help himself.

Her eyes narrowed faintly, but she didn’t reply as he stepped forward, offering his arm. She hesitated for a heartbeat before looping hers through it.

His pulse quickened, thrumming like a battle drum as he led her into the next hall. Whatever game they’d just started, he wasn’t sure who had the upper hand. But for now, he didn’t care.

The hall opened into a grand chamber, sunlight spilling through arched windows, bathing everything in a golden glow. Courtiers drifted through the space in flowing sundresses and airy, tailored garments, their laughter weaving through the warm breeze that stirred the silken banners overhead.

Lucien leaned in slightly. “The Day Court’s Solstice celebrations are different from most. They—”

“Ah, my dear sweet lovely Elain,” a smooth, booming voice interrupted, silencing Lucien mid-sentence.

Helion.

The High Lord of Day Court swept toward them, his robes as radiant as the sun itself, his amber eyes gleaming with mirth—and something sharper as his gaze flicked between Lucien and Elain.

“Wonderful that you are here,” Helion cooed, his smile widening as he took Elain’s hand in his own. Then, with deliberate flair, he glanced at Lucien and added, “With him.”

Lucien didn’t bother to hide his sigh, but Elain only lifted her chin, utterly unbothered. Slowly, she brushed an invisible speck of dust from Lucien’s jacket, her fingers deliberate as her lips curved into a serene smile.

“Lucien said he had to work today,” she said sweetly, her tone so pleasant it bordered on cutting.

Helion made a noncommittal sound, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Work, yes. We’ve been badgering our oldest ally to actually partake in our festivities for years. But no matter—let’s leave little Lucien to his work and allow me the pleasure of showing you around.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened at the “little,” but he said nothing. He knew better than to rise to Helion’s bait.

Elain’s lips quirked as she glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. “Behave, my fox,” she murmured before slipping her arm from his and turning toward Helion, her sundress fluttering faintly with the movement.

Lucien stood rooted for a moment, his nickname—her nickname for him—echoing in his head, drowning out the chatter of the court. He watched the soft glow of sunlight in her hair as she walked away.

He clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose. Behave, she’d said.

Easier said than done.

He forced himself to focus, charming anyone who approached him in hopes for information Rhys had asked for while his eyes flicked, again and again, to where Elain stood beside Helion. The High Lord seemed animated as ever, no doubt explaining Day Court’s infamous Solstice traditions with a flourish.

And yet, Lucien couldn’t quite suppress a grimace. The stifling atmosphere of the hall, gilded and resplendent as it was, clung to him like too-warm air. Or perhaps it was the faint, lingering stench of male completion from the ceremony the night before.

His gaze strayed back to Helion and Elain.

It had to be the embrace.

The Day Court’s most notorious tradition.

Lucien could still recall the first time he’d heard about it, the sheer absurdity of the myth. According to legend, the Sun God, after sacrificing himself to protect the land, descended to his Earth goddess mate for a final goodbye. Grief-stricken and desperate, she refused to let him go. Apparently, sex had seemed like the most logical way to “entice” him back to life, restoring his strength and binding him to the world and her once more.

Lucien snorted under his breath. Leave it to the Day Court to turn divine renewal into a glorified fertility ritual.

In practice, the embrace was just as theatrical. The High Lord—or heir—would reenact the union with their mate, preceded by a night of candle-lit dances performed by priestesses. The pair would make their way toward each other in the grand hall, only for everyone to clear out at the climax of the ceremony, leaving them to… complete the act. The male would emerge after, glowing like a damn firefly, a “living symbol” of the Sun God’s rebirth.

Lucien hadn’t watched it firsthand—thank the Cauldron for that—but he’d heard enough. Heard how Helion, since being High Lord, had moved through the steps of the dance with some nameless courtesan, looking as though he’d rather set himself on fire than take part.

And now? The rumors had only grown louder. Whispers of an heir. Whispers of a hidden consort. The courtiers were restless, demanding answers: If Helion had a mate, where was she? And if not, where was the heir who should take his place in the ceremony?

It compelled him, wondering if the poor sapsucker even knew they were heir to one of the most powerful courts in Prythian. Though, if they did, Lucien had to admit—these halls would make for a beautiful place to consummate their fate.

And then, unbidden, his thoughts strayed to Elain.

Would she like it?

His mind veered sharply to a memory he’d tried to bury—Graysen, drunk and slurring one Solstice years ago, sneering about Elain’s “ridiculous” fantasy of being tangled up with someone in a flower-filled meadow. Lucien had barely restrained himself from breaking the bastard’s jaw at the time.

But now, the memory twisted—not with anger, but with something else. Something softer.

He could picture it so easily: Elain in that meadow, sunlight streaming through golden petals, her hair a wild cascade around her flushed face. Her bare feet brushing over soft grass, her lips curving into the kind of smile she rarely showed anyone anymore.

Lucien swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

Would she ever let herself have that? Would she let him share it with her?

And then his thoughts wandered further.

Would she be open to… other places?

It wasn’t hard to imagine. Her sundress bunched up around her waist, her thighs trembling as he pressed her against one of these ivory columns. Her flushed face tipped back toward him, her lower lip caught between her teeth to stifle the sounds he knew she’d make as he—

Shit.

Lucien’s throat tightened. Everything suddenly felt too hot, too tight.

But the thought stayed with him, clinging like heat to his skin, until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Lucien shoved the reverie aside and pushed away from the hall entirely, striding toward the doors in search of fresh air before he truly made a fool of himself.

The cool air hit him like a balm, though it did little to quiet the mess in his head. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, trying to shake off the image of Elain—her sundress, her smile, her lips parting like she’d been inviting—

Shit. Double shit.

Lucien cursed under his breath, dragging his hand over his face as though he could scrub the thoughts away.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

Her voice cut through the stillness, sharp and accusing.

Lucien stiffened, turning to find Elain standing behind him, arms crossed, her expression pinched.

“And how was I misbehaving?” he drawled, slipping easily into a smirk, though his heart gave a strange lurch at the sight of her.

“Must you flirt with everyone who so much as bats an eye at you?”

The words made him freeze. His heart stopped—not because of her tone, but because of what it meant.

She’d been watching him.

He had wondered if she was halfway back with Helion by now, maybe for a private performance of the embrace, doing gods knows what. The image twisted in his chest like a knife, but he shoved it away as quickly as it came. She was here now. With him. And she was upset.

“Ever heard of an emissary who scowls?” he retorted, the smirk tugging at his lips once more.

“Roxy threw herself at you again.”

Lucien blinked. Had she? He genuinely hadn’t noticed. He’d been far too distracted by Elain—offering her soft smiles and easy laughter to the strangers Helion had introduced her to, like it cost her nothing.

“It’s the price I pay for being so handsome,” he said dryly.

Elain didn’t take the bait. She tilted her head slightly, her brows knitting together, and then—

“You are not that handsome,” she said flatly.

Lucien arched a brow, tilting his head as he studied her. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, though whether it was from annoyance or something else entirely, he couldn’t quite tell.

“Of course I’m not,” he replied smoothly, his voice softening just enough to draw her attention. “My scar assured me of that.”

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, his lips curled into something more wicked. “My talents,” he added, his tone dropping lower, “lie elsewhere.”

The words landed heavier than he’d intended, hanging in the air between them.

Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes widening just enough to betray her surprise. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, painting her creamy skin in soft pinks.

Lucien leaned back, watching her closely. Would she agree with him? Or would she have to admit—grudgingly, perhaps—that she found him attractive?

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He already knew that.

But as the sunlight spilled through the balcony, casting her in gold, Lucien found himself watching her in awe. Her hair gleamed, her delicate features glowing brighter than any of the gilded halls surrounding them.

“You look like you belong here,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The blush deepened, spreading like wildfire over her skin. For just a moment, she looked as though the observation had knocked her off balance.

But Elain recovered quickly, her lips curling into a slow, teasing smile.

“Come, mate,” she murmured, stepping closer. Her hand brushed lightly against his arm, a barely-there touch that sent a jolt straight through him. Her tone turned playful, almost conspiratorial.

Lucien made a low sound at the back of his throat, something between a scoff and a groan, which only made her grin widen. Together, they headed back toward the hall.

And then, as though she couldn’t resist, she spoke again. “I bet you’re not even that great of a kisser,” she said lightly, her voice lilting, determined to have the last word.

Lucien froze mid-step, his head whipping toward her with exaggerated offense. “You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “That’s the only talent I have.”

Elain’s lips quirked, but when she glanced up at him, something shifted. It was subtle, the kind of look that made Lucien falter.

Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Let’s make a few more rounds before I take you back.”

Elain frowned slightly. “Helion offered to let me stay the night here for the night.”

Lucien nodded. “If that’s what you wish.”

“And where are you going? Back to Spring?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “Helion doesn’t like me very much.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, a small movement that Lucien caught immediately. She nodded slowly, as though weighing his answer against something unsaid.

The pair drifted in silence, staying close to one another as they passed clusters of courtiers. Their voices hummed around them, low and charged with discontent.

“Helion’s performance was pathetic this year.”

“The Sun God is displeased. He’ll force the heir to reveal themselves soon, mark my words.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened at the whispers, filing away the comments to share with Rhys later, but he kept his focus ahead, steering Elain toward a quieter corner of the hall. A marble statue stood there, carved with painstaking detail—a voluptuous woman holding an orb aloft, her face serene and otherworldly.

They stopped in front of the statue, the tension between them softening in the quiet moment.

“I keep thinking I’m forgetting something today,” Elain said suddenly, tilting her head as she studied the figure before them.

Lucien glanced at her, watching the way her brows knit slightly, the faint furrow of thought on her otherwise serene face. “Did you remember?”

She shook her head, her smile faint, almost wistful. “For some reason… it feels like I was meant to be here.”

The words settled over him like a gentle breeze, unexpected yet welcome. Something in his chest stirred—not tightness, not ache, but something lighter, something good. His lips curved before he realized he was smiling, a quiet sort of satisfaction humming beneath his skin.

Without thinking, he reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers gently before letting them go.

“The story is sweet,” she murmured after a moment, gesturing to the statue.

“Sweet?” Lucien arched a brow, his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Which part? Where he almost dies or where an orgasm brings him back to life?”

Elain laughed, the sound soft and warm, washing over him like sunlight. “The part where the only place he wanted to die was by her side,” she said, glancing up at him, her eyes bright. “And she refuses to let him go.”

His smile faltered, his throat tightening around a sudden, unfamiliar lump.

“Thank you for bringing me here today,” Elain murmured, her gaze holding his longer than usual.

Lucien’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her tone, at the quiet warmth in her eyes. He didn’t miss the way her breath hitched—barely noticeable—or how her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides, as though she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands.

Her lips parted slightly, her breathing slowing, as if the world around them had stilled. And then, as her gaze flicked down, lingering on his mouth, she wetted her lips with the lightest brush of her tongue.

A silent invitation, one he couldn’t ignore.

Lucien leaned in slowly, carefully, his heart pounding hard enough that he was certain she could hear it. Close enough to feel the faint warmth of her breath against his skin, close enough to give her every chance to pull away.

But Elain didn’t move

She stayed perfectly still, her gaze never leaving his, their breaths mingling in the brief, suspended moment between them. And then she surprised him—closing the space herself. Her lips brushed against his, soft and tentative, yet sure enough to make his heart stumble.

Lucien’s hand rose instinctively to her waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her dress as though to steady himself—or to anchor her to him.

For a second, he let himself sink into it. Into her.

Her lips were impossibly soft, and she smelled of something faintly sweet—like jasmine and honey, warm and delicate. The heat radiating from her skin seemed to seep into his own, flooding his chest with something so raw and consuming he could scarcely breathe.

And just like that, the world fell away. The golden halls of the Day Court faded. The distant hum of voices and murmured laughter melted into nothing.

There was only her.

When they finally pulled back, Lucien’s eyes flickered over her face, searching for a sign of regret or hesitation. Instead, Elain’s lips parted again, her eyes wide.

“Oh,” she whispered.

His heart gave an uneasy lurch. “Bad?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended, though he tried for his usual sarcasm.

“No, Lucien, you’re… you’re glowing.”

Lucien blinked. “Glowing?”

And then he saw it. His skin was faintly radiant, shimmering with an otherworldly light—golden, warm, like sunlight trapped beneath his skin.

Like a damn firefly.

“Fuck,” was all Lucien managed to say, his voice flat as Elain’s eyes widened, a mix of wonder and alarm sparking across her face.

She stared at him for a long moment before her lips twitched.

“Lady, don’t,” he warned, narrowing his eyes.

But it was too late. Her laughter bubbled out, bright and unrestrained, tumbling over itself until she was clutching her stomach, tears glinting in her eyes.

“You’re actually glowing!” she gasped between laughs, her voice shaking with delight.

Lucien groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “That explains a lot of shit,” he muttered darkly.

That only made her laugh harder, and despite himself, Lucien couldn’t stop the reluctant smile that tugged at his lips.

“Well,” he said dryly, watching her wipe at her eyes, still grinning at him like he was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “At least we know who is the better kisser between the both of us.”

“You’re like … sunshine,” she teased, her voice softening now, though the laughter still danced in her eyes.

Lucien shook his head, but he didn’t mind—not when her glow rivaled his own.

[darklove9314-blog]

A Rose Without Thorns: an Elucien Fanfic

Hello everyone and welcome to Day 2 of SJM Romance week, Prompt: First Fight. I hope everyone enjoys the story.

Synopsis: When tensions rise between Lucien and Elain, will a heated argument turn into something more? . NSFW: for hate sex.

Rage and fury bubbled up within her, threatening to escape as she slammed the door shut, shoving her back into it as her throat bobbed in frustration, That arrogant, smug, son of a bi-

An aggravated knock sounded at the door, the repetitiveness of it driving her up the wall as she ground her teeth. the beast she tried to keep buried underneath her flesh finally breaking free as she threw the door open revealing Lucien's furious gaze before it flickered to her own. He made his way past her, not bothering to ask for entrance as the fury at the intrusion welled up inside of her.

She slammed the door again, challenge in her gaze, daring him to say anything, to do anything as the fire in his eyes threatened to consume her.

Good. She wanted that fury unleashed on her, she was tired of everyone being silent around her. so afraid to harm her that they treated her like a porcelain doll instead of a person. sometimes she wished they would just let her shatter. No one ever had, not until-

"Care to explain?" He snapped making her spine straighten in response.

"Why should I explain? I'm a grown woman with my own wants and desires. No matter what this bond thinks is going to happen between us means very little to me. I am my own person, I have desires of my own and if I wish to channel those desires it is no business of yours.” She shot back at him, twisting her hands in frustration.

He took a step closer, forcing her back to the door once more, but she refused to back down. She had had enough of this, enough of this tension between them. It was finally time to let it snap.

"Do you want to fuck him?" He asked her. His voice low, almost primal.

She had expected this question. Had expected it the moment Lucien had saw them kiss. What was worse was that when she had done it she had thought Azriel was the male that she had wanted, her desire for him was so potent that she couldn't help but try a taste of him. But when they had kissed, when she had finally given into her fantasies and desires for him. it was-It had not been how she imagined it would be.

She had expected a lot from that kiss, had expected to have this earth shattering, world turning experience. She thought when their lips touched, it would make sense. Her losing Grayson, her broken engagement, all of it. She had expected the kiss to put everything into perspective, to set everything right and give her a direction, a purpose. She had been naive to expect anything more than what it was.

She should have known that Azriel was not the right person for her, that no matter how much peace and quiet he gave her, it would never be enough to settle her, because deep down she knew silence wasn’t always a good thing. And that made her so furious that she could barely speak.

I don't want the cauldron to be right. She thought glancing into Lucien's livid gaze as she squared her shoulders, preparing to strike him with her words once more.

"You have no right to ask me that. I can fuck who I want to fuck. If I take a lover in your absence that is no business of yours and yet you still feel the need to sit there and lecture me about wanting and desiring others but what about Vassa?"

Lucien's jaw clenched, that heated gaze concentrating every ounce of that intensity on her, turning her body near molten from that stare alone.

"What about Vassa, mate?"

She stiffened,

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I call you what you are to me?" He challenged her, taking a step forward, yet she refused to take a step back. If he wanted to intimidate her, fine, but she refused to be seen as prey any longer.

"I'm nothing to you. Don't you get it? and don't change the subject. I've seen how you look at her."

A low chuckle escaped Lucien's lips, giving Elain pause as Lucien glanced down at her. His focus solely on her.

"How exactly do I look at her?" He inquired, stepping so close that her back was pressed to the door as she could have sworn that his fingers twitched towards her. Her nipples pebbling in response at that voice. That power, hers wanting to come out to play. To see who would dominate who. But she wouldn’t even give him a taste of that until she knew where they stood.

"You gaze upon her as if she's a goddess walking this earth." She sneered hearing his laughter to her response.

"I will admit, being attracted to Vassa would be easier, She's a beautiful and fierce female who anyone would be lucky to have in their bed and despite our quarrels, we have a lot in common. It would be easy to fall into bed with her, to fall in love with her knowing that she would return that love, however -" He stepped closer, his gaze drinking her in as her fury at his words began to flare, "I have no desire to fuck her. to be with her. She's not the female i dream about, she's not the female who i want to taste, she’s definitely not the female whose legs I want wrapped around my head. The one I want to sink my cock deep into-“ he rasped, their hurried breaths mingling together as desire stronger than she’d ever known pooled between her legs.

He closed the space between them, daring to push the bounds of their separation and she let him, Gods and Mother above, she let him.

Pressing his cock to her center, letting her feel every inch of desire he had for her as he leaned in close, his mouth nearly a whisper away from her ear as those clever hands of his weaved into her hair, tilting her head back to expose her to him as he breathed.

"She's not you."

She erupted, her lips colliding with his own as she let her primal instincts drive her. She was tired of suppressing them. Tired of driving them down to adhere to everyone’s expectations when all she wanted to do was unleash herself.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Lucien slammed Elain into the door, his desire evident as she yanked his hair back wanting to deepen their kiss. If he wanted to play these games then they would play.

His hand found her throat. applying the slightest bit of pressure as she moaned into his mouth, the pressure felt so delicious that Elain couldn't help but revel in it.

"Like that?" Lucien whispered between her lips. never taking his off of her.

She refused to answer, wanting nothing more than for him to shut the fuck up and take her like he wanted to, but after years of waiting for this, she knew the fucker would make her work for this.

He chuckled, the sound sending heat between her thighs as if she hadn't been wet enough, as his other hand that had not been occupying her throat went to her nipple, twisting it through the fabric of her bodice as she moaned loudly into his mouth. Her nipples pebbling at his touch as he pinched her other nipple and rolled it between his fingers making them stay nice and perky for him.

"Answer me." He commanded, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes." She hissed out, cursing his name for making her feel this way.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Mate." She hissed at him. damning him yet again.

"Good Girl." He mused, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine at the words as he pressed a kiss to the side of her throat making it bob. Reminding her that he could be gentle when he wanted to be.

He inhaled her scent, exhaling at the desire he smelt from in between her legs as he pressed her to the door, palming her breast as a growl of frustration escaped from him.

"These clothes are in my way." He growled ripping the top of her bodice as her breast spilled out for him.

Before she could even breath a word about the dress, his hands lifted her thighs wrapping them, around him as he pressed his erection to her center, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.

Her head was heady, she could barely think as his hands moved to underneath her skirts, moving her undergarments and ripping them off in one fluid motion, leaving nothing of hers inaccessible to him as his clever fingers roamed over her folds, exploring the wetness there. Elain moaned from the fire his touch provided, his hand warming the most pleasurable parts of her.

"So wet for me, my mate, tell me, were you ever this wet for him?"

"Gods." She muttered as he pinched her clint rolling it between his fingers as she cried out in pleasure.

"Answer me."

"N-No."

"No what? He asked, drawing her orgasm out from her and denying her every time she was close.

"No, he never made me as wet as you."

"I might have to put that to the test."

"What are you-"

Before she could answer, the rest of her dress was ripped from her, her body lain on the floor as he bared the rest of her to him, leaving her on full display for him, remaining fully clothed in the process.

Keeping her legs open, Lucien knelt before her, moving his head between her legs as the silky strands of his hair brushed against them. he spread her wide making sure he had full access to her pussy as he purred in delight,

His head lowered, meeting her gaze with an intensity she had never seen before as she shattered underneath the first stroke of his tongue.

Making her cry out from how good his tongue felt on her, her nails raked against the wooden floors. Pawing at them for dear life as Lucien continued his exploration only stopping when he felt sated with how much of her wetness he could gather in his mouth. her moans and pleads for him to fuck her filling the room.

"Lucien, please." She begged,

"Please, what?" He taunted,

"Please. fuck me."

He pulled away roughly, tearing her from her orgasm as he stood up, his cock straining against his leathers, making sure he was out of her reach, as she glanced up at him, confused as she questioned,

"What are you-"

"Stand up."

She didn't know why she obeyed as she stood naked and waiting in front of Lucien as he circled around her, observing her as her heart pounded in response. She hated it, Hated the pleasure that he could draw out of her without even trying.

"Hands on the door." He commanded as her nipples hardened in response.

She turned back to the door, leaning against it, as she heard Lucien come up behind her, getting her into position and kneeling her aching body foreword so he could display the full picture of her desire.

His hands went to her hair again, pulling it back as he lowered his voice asking,

"Is the Shadowsinger home?"

"Yes-Yes, why?" She breathed, her core tightening at his words as she felt his lips at her ear, hearing the buckle of his leathers as he undid them before he answered,

"Because I want him to hear what happens when us Autumn Court males fuck the females that are ours."

Before she could respond, his cock drove up inside of her, making her feel every inch of him as she cried out in pleasure. She could barely even remember his name as Lucien rode her with his cock, her pussy gladly accepting him as the door rattled in response, making sure everyone outside of it could hear them.

Her cries turned to sobs as her pussy took more and more of him, she had never had this big before, had never felt so full before as her pussy clamped around him soaking his cock with her desire as her pussy clenched around him, her orgasm erupting from her lips as he continued to pound into her mercilessly.

"Fuck." He exclaimed, as she felt the splashes of his own orgasm inside of her, promising herself that she would ask Madaja for a tonic later as he filled her to the brim. His seed seeping onto her legs as her body ached from the pleasure he had thrusted upon it.

He pulled away, shoving his cock back in his leathers and buckling himself up as he leaned into her, the evidence of what they did between her legs, dripping onto the hardwood floor as he said,

"You're mine, Elain Archeron, just like i am yours. remember that the next time you want to fuck anyone else ." He told her, as he left the room, leaving her stunned, wondering what she was going to do next.

@sjmromanceweek

[fieldofdaisiies]

Day 2: First Fight

for @sjmromanceweek💕

Accidentally bumping into Lucien doesn’t work without a conversation (or a little fight) after it...

read on ao3

@shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop @aayo-whatt @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone @berryzxx @jules-writes-stories @bookishbroadwaybish @the-darkestminds

[starsreminisce]

SJM Romance Week Day Two First Fight

Stay A Little Longer

wordcount: 2800 for @sjmromanceweek

Summary: Lucien and Elain were left alone after it was decided that Lucien would find Vassa to turn the tide of the war. Here is a glimpse of their conversation after the Inner Circle had left, the one that led Elain to want to stop him the next day.

Read on AO3 or continue below

----

“Find out if Keir and his Darkbringers had any attacks,” Rhysand ordered Mor and Cassian. They nodded and left without another word.

Alone now with her sisters and Lucien, Rhys and Feyre exchanged a glance before Feyre caught Nesta’s eye. For once, Nesta rose to her feet. Without a word, she moved toward them, and together the three of them headed upstairs. They left Elain and Lucien behind.

Elain remained where she was, staring blankly at the far wall, her fingers absently tracing the embroidered pattern of the pillow clutched to her stomach, as though the soft fabric could shield her from a pain she didn’t entirely understand. She flinched inwardly at the memory of the blonde—Mor, her name was—saying that it would be dangerous. And then, Lucien’s response: that half-smile, infuriatingly rakish, as he had replied, “Good.”

It wasn’t good. It was far from it.

Her throat tightened now as she listened to them discuss why he should go, how much they had tried to dissuade him. She said nothing, only watched him warily, her chest heavy with something unnameable.

Lucien exhaled, long and measured.

For a moment, Elain dared to glance at him. His voice was steady—confident—as he assured them he would find the missing sixth queen. No hesitation, no doubt. Just quiet certainty.

She liked the sound of it. Of him, like this.

Most of the time, he spoke as though he were wandering, uncertain of his place in the world. But now… now, he sounded sure. Strong.

She liked that.

She hated how much she liked that.

She felt him about to leave before he even moved, the tension crackling in the air between them. His gaze met hers, and the words came out before she could stop them.

“Don’t go,” she blurted.

Lucien stopped. His head tilted slightly, brows arching in surprise. Elain immediately dropped her gaze, her cheeks flaming as she clutched the pillow tighter.

“You don’t need me, lady,” he said softly after a moment.

“Don’t go,” she repeated, barely louder than a whisper.

She didn’t notice his steps until he was kneeling before her. Her stomach tumbled when she realized how close he was, his golden eye and scarred face turned up toward her. She couldn’t stop the blush blooming over her cheeks. There was longing in his expression, raw and open. And she saw it—he didn’t want to leave any more than she wanted him to stay.

“Lady,” Lucien murmured, patiently, carefully. “We didn’t heed your warning, and look what happened today. I’m not needed here, but I can do this. I want to do this.”

Her jaw tightened, her grip on the pillow fierce. “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

Lucien’s expression didn’t waver. “I’m not.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but then she saw the flicker of hesitation in his gaze. His hands hovered, uncertain, until one finally settled gently on her outer thigh. Her breath hitched, sharp and involuntary. He leaned forward, close enough that the warmth of him pressed against her skin, the space between them crackling with an energy that perplexed her.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. Her voice broke, but she didn’t care. “I need you here.”

Lucien’s smile came slowly—achingly soft, heartbreakingly beautiful. It made something in her chest twist so violently she almost wanted to scream.

Her heart clenched as she watched him, but then his thumb began to move, tracing slow, soothing circles against her thigh. A startled squeak slipped from her lips before she could stop it, but the sensation quickly melted into something steady, grounding.

“You’re strong,” his murmur like a warm breeze, a careful caress. “You’re smart. And you don’t need me.”

His thumb kept moving, gentle and deliberate.

“You’re eating again. There’s color in your cheeks.” A breath, a pause, like he was memorizing her. “You’re—”

“Stop it,” she cut in, scowling. “I know what you’re doing.”

His lips curved, tilting into something devastatingly handsome, and her chest tightened all over again. “Oh?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. “What am I doing?”

“Buttering me up so you can leave without guilt,” she shot back.

“Of course not.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t mean for the words to spill out, but they did anyway. “You go and… and… I’ll reject the bond.” Her voice trembled, her tone veering between threat and desperation. “Graysen will take me back.”

Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. Or maybe it was. She didn’t know anymore. Her feelings felt tangled, knotted with Lucien at the center. Was she teasing him? Or was she being sincere?

Lucien’s face stilled. The teasing light in his gaze dimmed, replaced by something heavier, more serious. A faint crease appeared between his brows as he nodded once, slowly, as though weighing her words.

“Even more reason for me to go,” he said finally.

Elain froze, her heart lurching painfully at his response. That wasn’t what she’d expected. That wasn’t what she wanted him to say. She had thought—hoped—that he’d be more like the fae she’d heard about, the mates Graysen mocked about. Territorial. Overbearing. Stubborn. She’d wanted him to fight her on this, to stay because of her, because she mattered.

“What if it’s a trap?” she demanded. “What if I’m wrong? What if you—” Her voice cracked. “What if you die?”

“Have faith in me, lady,” Lucien murmured, tilting his face up to hers. His gaze softened, molten russet edged with quiet resolve. “I believe you. I believe you’re right—we need to find the sixth queen. But even if I couldn’t… even if the queen was beyond my reach…” He hesitated, and Elain caught the faintest flicker of something vulnerable in his expression before his jaw tightened. “There’s someone else I would like to find.”

Her breath stuttered. The weight of his words hit her like a blow to the chest. “Father,” she whispered.

Lucien nodded, his hand sliding off her thigh as he straightened slightly. “If I can’t find the sixth queen, I’ll bring your father home.”

Elain stared at him, her chest tightening so fiercely it felt as though her ribs might crack under the strain. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into the pillow. Her throat burned as her emotions surged—grief, guilt, rage. They tangled together, sharp and suffocating.

“No,” she choked out, shaking her head violently. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“Lady—” Lucien began, but she surged to her feet, the pillow tumbling to the floor.

“You think you can just march into human territory?” Her trembling voice rose. “You think you’ll just find him and bring him back, like it’s that simple? You don’t even understand what they’ll—what they’ll do to you.”

Lucien remained on his knees, unmoving, his golden eye whirred faintly before a click. His steady presence only made her panic grow, the calm resolve on his face a cruel contrast to the storm raging inside her.

“I’m not letting you go,” she said, her voice breaking on the words. “You’ll get yourself killed. And then what?” She gestured wildly, her hands trembling. “What am I supposed to do then?”

Lucien rose slowly, towering over her, every movement more fae-like than she’s used to. His hand lifted, as if he meant to steady her, but it stopped short, hovering in the space between them. The tension in him was palpable, etched into the taut line of his shoulders, the restrained set of his jaw.

“Lady,” he said softly with an ache beneath it, a longing. “If there’s even a chance I can bring him back for you, how could I not try?”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision until they spilled freely down her cheeks. She shook her head furiously. “You can’t,” she whispered, thin and fraying at the edges. “You can’t.”

Lucien’s lips twisted but he said nothing. The silence was unbearable. Elain felt her desperation rising like a tide. “I just started getting better,” she said louder as it trembled. “Because… because you’re here.”

His eyes met hers at that, a flash of something raw and unguarded flickering in his gaze. “And that’s why I feel confident enough to go,” he said quietly, almost reverently. “Lady, you’re strong—”

She sobbed, the sound breaking free of her like a wound torn open.

“—and you’ve given us a chance at a better world,” he continued, his voice steady even as hers faltered. “A world with more gardens.”

Her legs weakened beneath her, and before she could crumple, Lucien caught her. His arms came around her, strong and solid, his warmth steadying her as her strength ebbed away. Even as her mind raced with his words, she was grounded by the earthy and spicy aroma that flooded her nostrils.

He moved—effortlessly, fluidly—and pulled her into his arms before she had a chance to grasp it all. Her hands automatically gripped his shoulders as her legs dangled, driving their fingers into the solid, unwavering strength underneath them. His hand flexed slightly against her thigh, grounding her, anchoring her in a way that sent a confusing rush of warmth through her chest. He was so solid, so certain, and she hated the way it made her feel safe.

Safe when she wanted to be angry. Safe when she wanted to push him away.

“It’s been a long day for you, hasn’t it?” he murmured, the cadence soft enough to coax a response.

Her eyelids flickered from exhaustion, then jerked open as annoyance erupted in her chest. With a stronger tone than she meant, she said, “Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he couldn’t help but smirk. There was no mistaking the knowing gleam in his eye. He had caught the fatigue in her voice, the way her body sagged against him despite her best efforts to stay upright.

“You can fight me later,” he said lightly, though there was a firmness beneath the words. “But, let’s get you to bed.”

He spoke in a soft, cautious tone, yet there was no place for debate because of its quiet authority. Torn between annoyance and the tremendous weight of her fatigue, she glanced up at him. She let her breath out in a long, deep sigh and nodded, too tired to struggle any more. He carried her along the silent halls in unhurried steps, the steady rhythm lulling her.

She pressed her face into him, seeking comfort in his steadiness. Then, just above a whisper, his words broke the stillness. “I think the world needs more gardens after this.” His lips curved slightly. “And I want to make sure you’ll be able to grow them.”

Her chest tightened at the softness in his words, at the quiet hope they carried. “It’s dangerous to go,” she said muffled against his chest.

“I know,” he only said as he laid his chin against the top of her head.

She tilted upwards to him, her brow furrowed. “Humans hate beings like you,” she said softly, the words trembling with fear she could no longer hide.

His lips curved again, but this time it wasn’t a smile—it was something wry, resigned, as if the truth of it no longer stung. “I’ve had plenty of practice dealing with that.”

She studied him then, the words forming on her tongue before she could stop them. “You go and it’s over between us.”

Lucien stopped mid-step, his face softening. The teasing light in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced by something raw, something unspoken. “If I stay,” he said, the words slow, “it’s over, either way.”

Her frown deepened, confusion mingling with anger and heartbreak. “Does it have to be you?” she demanded. “Why does it always have to be you?”

He held her gaze, his russet eye unwavering. “Because if I want you to have the world you deserve,” he said, each word deliberately, “then yes. It has to be me. Because you deserve a world where things can grow again. Where you can grow again.”

Her throat tightened, and she tried to argue, to push back, but no words came. Only silence. Her head dropped against his chest, her strength crumbling completely as he carried her up the stairs.

“There isn’t much I can do here,” he said quietly, almost to himself. His tone was heavy, regret threading through the edges. “No one in the Night Court council—except Amren and Mor—trusts me. Especially after what happened.” His jaw tightened, and his arms seemed to hold her just a fraction closer. “But I can do this. I am good at this.”

Elain’s voice was a whisper, almost lost against his chest. “What should I do in the meantime?” She hesitated. “The voices and the dreams… they keep coming, and I don’t know how to make them stop.”

Lucien exhaled slowly, and when he spoke again, his tone shifted—lighter now, edged with mischief. “You could try baking bread,” he mused with a casual shrug. “Though you did mention rejecting the bond.” He punctuated the words with a quick, pointed wink.

She stiffened in his arms, her frown deepening as they reached her room. “You think that’s funny?”

She tried to ignore how effortlessly he opened the door while still carrying her—the ease of it, the implication of how many times he must have done this before. For someone else. The jealousy flared, hot and sharp, but she shoved it down.

“No,” he said softly, lowering her onto the bed with a care that made her chest ache. His hands lingered for just a breath longer than necessary. “But I haven’t seen you smile.”

Elain glared up at him, and for a moment he only looked at her, letting her frustration wash over him. Then he sighed and moved to sit at the foot of her bed. She shifted, pulling another pillow to her chest as if it could shield her from the confusing feelings she had.

“Lady,” he began.

Elain said nothing, only watched as he mulled over his words. His mechanical eye whirred faintly in the stillness of the room—a barely audible sound, but enough to tell her he was thinking, measuring his response as carefully as he always did around her.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said at last. “You asked us to find the sixth queen. Let me, at least, do this for you.”

“That female, Mor, offered—”

“You saw how quickly they shut down when she did,” he cut in, his tone edged with quiet certainty. “And how quickly they listened when I did.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked toward the door, as if he could already feel the distance stretching between them. His throat bobbed with an unspoken thought before he murmured, “Rhys and Feyre don’t trust me.” His voice dipped lower, as if the admission cost him something. “I want to help, but…”

He paused, turning his head to glance at her, and Elain grasped his reasons. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence hung delicately, teetering on the edge of something unspoken.

It dawned on her then that they had never been completely alone. No council. Not a family. No easy diversions to protect them. Only the twisted strands of a mating bond she wasn’t sure she wanted stood between them.

She felt a wave of unease pass through her chest as she considered it. The intensity of his gaze caused her cheeks to warm, and her heart to falter. Tightening her grip on the pillow, she hoped she could shrink away and sort through the tangle of emotions that suddenly became overwhelming. She was still engaged—technically, still tied to someone else. A human man who had once been her entire world. She felt it like a phantom ache, that connection to a life she no longer belonged to.

Lucien saw the shift in her expression. Of course he did. He saw too much, always. The subtle stiffening of her shoulders, the way she averted her gaze. His lips twitched—not a smile, but something resigned, maybe even bitter.

“I have to prepare,” Lucien said, breaking the silence that stretched between them.

He got out of bed in one smooth purposeful motion. There was no room for doubt in his tone, and it was evident not just in what he said but also in the way he stood and how his determination filled the room like an unbreakable force. Elain could only stare as he retreated toward the door, her mind racing, her chest tight.She had never seen him like this before, yet somehow he was different. This dominant side of his unsettled her, but not the way it should have. Her stomach twisted for a much more confusing reason than fear or anger.

She knew in her heart that he had already decided. She knew full well she could not stop him with words and action as the door snapped shut behind him.

She covered her face with her hands and whispered, “I swear,” to the empty room. “He will be the death of me.”

[harperbrynne]

SJM Romance Week Day 3: First “I love you” | Elucien

Lucien: Every second of every day I spent longing for the chance to see you, just to glimpse you, made me envy the very sun for knowing your exact position by the shadow of your body. At night, I laid awake imagining if the only part of you I could have was this thread, then what could be more beautiful than experiencing the radiance of the garden in your soul. When you first kissed me, I dreamed of being the earth beneath your fingernails so I could know what it was like to be with you always. I love you, Elain Archeron, with the reverence of a male who wishes to grow with you forever.

@sjmromanceweek

[crazy-ache]

Treacherous Waters - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (Saints and Sinners) is up for @jsmelodies for the ACOTAR Gift Exchange 2024 ☠︎︎ Credit for the new mood board goes to the talented and kind @olenvasynyt

He was going to have to kill Lieutenant Graysen. 

“What are you doing here?” Elain’s voice shook as she stood frozen. 

Start at the beginning Summary: Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of a prominent merchant, eagerly awaits her wedding day to Lieutenant Graysen. The day never arrives, as her father’s debts catch up to him in the form of angry pirates who want what they are owed.   With no money to offer, a deal is struck: One eligible daughter must marry the pirate captain. Will Elain survive her new life married to the Lord of Foxes on the treacherous sea?

Read on AO3

[renehart13657]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@sjmromanceweek

❤️The first “I Love You” ❤️

“I’m Yours”

Elain burst into Rhysand's study, her heart pounding. He had reached out in her mind telling her he needed her quickly in the study and she just knew it was because of a bird in her garden that they had talked about at lunch. It was silly, but she couldn’t wait to see this rainbow bird only native to the Night Court. Rhys had gushed about it and had informed her he would call her the next time he saw it out his window.

Elain froze, feeling lightheaded, as her eyes locked onto Lucien. Her breath hitched, and she leaned against the door for support. "Oh," she whispered.

Lucien stood, equally stunned, his voice barely above a murmur. "Elain..." The bond between them flared to life, and she felt a torrent of his emotions wash over her. It had been months since she had seen him and they still had not carried on a decent conversation.

She stammered, "I didn’t know you were here."

His embarrassment was written clearly across his face when he offered his apologies, a feeling that crushed her.

"You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly waiting for his eyes to find hers. So much hurt flooded into her end of the bond. “I just thought you were coming later this week."

Lucien was trying harder than ever not to make eye contact, but he couldn’t help it. They had never spoken this much together. And she looked better than he had ever seen her—healthy, and her smile reached her eyes. She was so beautiful he had to remind himself to breathe. She was looking at him the way he had seen her look at others—happy, friendly. He tore his gaze away and continued, "I have meetings with landowners later this week, so I came to report early."

She waited a beat before replying, "How are things in the mortal lands?"

Lucien hesitated, his gaze flickering back to her. "The mortal lands are... stabilizing," he replied, carefully choosing his words. "The rebuilding efforts are slow, but progress is being made. People are starting to find their footing again,” he cleared his throat and looked at the bookshelf. “Rhys had to step out for a moment if you’re looking for him.”

Elain nodded, her eyes softening. "That's good to hear about the mortal lands. It's important that they have hope."

A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, but charged with unspoken words. Lucien cleared his throat again. "And you? How have you been?"

Elain's smile faltered for a moment, a shadow passing over her face. "I’m…” she hesitated as if trying to find the right words. “Better. It's been a journey, but I'm finding my way around here, I think. I mean Pythian not the house.” Elain's cheeks flushed crimson as the awkward words tumbled out of her mouth. The house?! She immediately regretted her choice of words. She bit her lip, her eyes darting away from Lucien's gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration with herself. Why was she so awkward around him besides the fact that he looked like he had been chiseled by the gods themselves and those eyes. How could a scar like that make him even more dashing?

Lucien's heart ached at her words, feeling the weight of her struggles through their bond. "If there's anything I can do," he began, as she nodded her head gently.

Elain tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "How are your friends? I mean. Um, the General and Queen?"

Lucien blinked, taken aback by her question. He hadn't expected her to care about his friends, to show such genuine interest. "They're... they're doing well," he stammered. "Jurian is still adjusting to everything, but he's finding his place. Vassa is as fierce as ever, always ready to fight for what's right."

Elain's smile returned, warmer this time. "I'm glad to hear that. I’m sure they mean a lot to you."

Lucien nodded, still processing her concern. "They do."

Several quiet seconds passed before Elain's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Are you staying for dinner?" she asked, just as loud laughter erupted from the foyer. They could hear Cassian and Nesta teasing and bickering, their voices echoing through the halls of the River House. Something about Cassian being an asshole. Nesta was on edge. Again.

Lucien's expression shifted, a mix of annoyance and something else—fear, perhaps? Elain couldn't quite tell. He hesitated, and she could see the answer forming on his lips.

Before he could decline, she blurted out, "Would you like to go to dinner? There's this new restaurant in Velaris I've been wanting to try. Just the two of us."

She felt her cheeks flush as she continued, words tumbling out in a rush. "I mean, if you're free and if you want. You definitely don’t have to. I mean. If you want to. We could. But…It's just that I thought it might be nice to talk. Rhysand keeps saying we should talk. You don’t have to but we could away from all the noise and... drama. You can say no. It’s fine.“

Realizing she was rambling, she sighed , feeling incredibly awkward again and wishing she could melt into the carpet. But then she saw Lucien's smile, warm and genuine.

"I'd love that," he said softly. “It’s starting to rain so I can winnow us.”

In a graceful stride, Rhysand entered his study, exuding an air of nonchalance as if the entire scene had unfolded by chance. With a subtle wink directed at Elain, she caught on to his clever ruse. "Or Elain can winnow the two of you," Rhysand suggested, his eyes dancing with mischief, leaving Elain to unravel the threads of his intricate plan.

Lucien, his eyes widening in astonishment, turned to Elain and uttered in disbelief, "You can winnow?" The realization of Elain's hidden talents striking him with a mix of surprise and admiration.

Elain responded with a wry smile, "I had a patient instructor, despite being extremely obnoxious at times." As her words hung in the air, Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, the revelation of his dual role as both her instructor and orchestrator of events adding a layer of amusement to the unfolding scene.

“She can be quite the smart ass,” he laughed.

Lucien's eyes flickered with realization as he observed the easy camaraderie between Elain and Rhysand. It was clear they shared a friendship.

As they made their way outside, Elain extended her hand to Lucien. "Take my hand so I can winnow us," she instructed softly. The moment their fingers met, a rush of electricity surged between them, leaving both momentarily breathless.

In an instant, they arrived at the restaurant, where they discovered that Rhysand had reserved it privately just for the two of them. The intimate setting added a layer of anticipation to their evening, the lingering spark of their touch still fresh in their minds.

"Ever the meddlesome matchmaker, he is. You should know, Rhys is your biggest fan," Elain fanned her napkin across her knee.

Lucien blinked in surprise. "I can't imagine Rhysand being my fan. You two seem close."

“We’ve been having lunch together while he’s been teaching me to winnow and Feyre’s busy with her painting classes.” Elain chuckled softly. "He's like the big brother I never wanted.”

Lucien laughed, and for the first time, she saw a genuine smile spread across his handsome face. She looked too long as if memorizing every detail of that rare, beautiful expression.

The restaurant owner soon brought them a bottle of wine, took their order, and remarked on how glad he was that they were there. They both ordered their food, and then Elain turned to Lucien with a curious smile. "So, tell me everything. Who is Lucien Vanserra?" she asked with a smile, her eyes full of genuine interest.

Lucien took a sip of his wine, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of curiosity and openness. "Well, where do I start?" he began, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I grew up in the Autumn Court, but it never really felt like home. My family... let's just say we have our differences."

Elain listened intently, her gaze unwavering. "Go on," she encouraged softly.

He continued, "I found a place with Tamlin in the Spring Court for a while, but even that wasn't quite right. It's been a journey of my own, trying to find where I truly belong." He paused and looked down at his glass. "And now, here I am, still searching, but maybe a bit closer than before."

Elain's expression softened. "It sounds like you've been through a lot," she said gently wishing she had asked Feyre more about this male or at least cared to listen to the stories her sister had tried to share in those first days. "But I'm glad you're here now. Truly.”

Lucien smiled at her, the warmth in her voice wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. "Thank you," he replied, feeling a connection forming between them. "What about you? What's your story?"

Elain took a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Well, my story isn't as adventurous as yours and I’m sure you know a lot of it already,” she began, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

He grinned almost apprehensively, “Not a lot.”

"I came from a simple life with my sisters. After everything that happened with the Cauldron and the war, I found myself in a world I barely understood."

Lucien nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "It must have been overwhelming."

"It was," she admits. "But I had my sisters and this new family, and they helped me find my way. Still, there's a part of me that feels... out of place, like I'm not quite sure where I fit in this new world."

"I understand that feeling all too well," he said softly.

Their conversation continued as they talked about their favorite foods, amusing stories from their past, and the little quirks that make them who they are. The restaurant was cozy, the atmosphere warm, and for a while, they simply enjoyed each other's company without delving into the heavier topics that lingered beneath the surface.

When the rain finally stopped, they decided to take a walk along the Sidra. The night air was cool and fresh, the city lights reflecting off the water, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the gentle lapping of the river.

Eventually, they found themselves standing at the rail, looking out over the water. The quiet moment stretched, until Elain finally broke the silence. "It's beautiful here," she said softly. “But I miss the sun. I think my sisters were made for night. But I need it to be warmer.”

He nodded but stayed quiet.

They looked out over the quiet water for several quiet moments before Elain took a deep breath. "I apologize for being so beastly to you," she said softly.

Lucien immediately shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I do," she insisted, turning to face him. "I’ve been rude.”

Lucien took a deep breath, his mismatched eyes softening as he looked at Elain. "Elain, you have no reason to apologize. I have never thought you rude.”

Elain's eyes widened slightly, but Lucien continued before she could respond. "I understand why you needed space. The things you went through, the changes you faced... it was unbelievably overwhelming. I never took your silence personally. I knew you were dealing with so much, and I respected your need for distance.”

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. "You were processing everything in your own way, and that's okay. I'm just glad that we're talking now. So please, don't feel guilty or think you were rude. You did what you needed to do, and I respect that."

Elain fought against the tide of emotions that threatened to keep her silent but shook them off as she spoke, “You were the first person I saw in the throne room, and the first person when I came out of the Cauldron. I don’t know why. Well, I didn’t then. Now I know it was the bond. I just knew I needed you. Would be safe with you and that you were mine.”

Lucien flinched at her words and hoped she hadn’t noticed. She continued.

“But I was engaged and in love with Graysen, and I felt so unfaithful to him and didn't know how to process the feelings. All the feelings."

Lucien listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. "I understand. You were going through so much, and I can't imagine how confusing it must have been."

Elain nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I could feel how hesitant you were, as well. So much sadness and... was it guilt?”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged. “So much guilt about so many things,” he murmured.

Elain watched him, her heart fluttering. He was ridiculously handsome, but more than that—he was genuinely good.

"I can't understand how my soul feels about you," Elain whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. A soft smile played on her lips, though her brows furrowed in confusion. "I know, deep down, that I already love you, and... I can't even process how I understand that," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "Or how to move forward. Does that make sense to you?"

Lucien's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't find the words to respond, so he simply nodded slowly, his gaze locked with hers, trying to process the depth of her confession.

"I've been so frustrated with these feelings, with this choice that I never got to make," Elain said, her voice softening. "But I've recently realized that I do get to make it. And I choose you and us. If you want to.”

Lucien gazed at Elain, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're absolutely adorable," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “We can take this slowly. However you want to do it. I’m all in. I’m yours.”

[tsundoku-life-deactivated202507]