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You could write something in which Lucien is doing something and one of his friends (Nuan or Vassa) runs her hand through his hair to get it out of his face but Elain (who has not yet accepted the mate bond) gets jealous and tries to get his attention??

This will have two parts since there is another ask requesting jealous Lucien. This is safe for work but part 2 will not be.

Elain knew Nuan was just a friend. She knew Nuan, with her clicking, golden arm, had saved Lucien’s sight and gifted him his own golden eye. She also knew it was Nuan who had utilized Lucien’s knowledge of Faebane to make the antidote. They were friends and, at time, collaborators. There was likely nothing else between them, but Elain couldn’t help but wonder if there had been once. Nuan kept tucking her silky, black hair behind her ears and her olive skin flushed every time he made one of his bad jokes. Nuan, like Lucien, was a guest in Feyre’s home which meant Elain could not kick her out or demand she leave no matter how badly she might have wanted to.

She was suffering, in her place across the room where she was pretending to arrange a massive vase of flowers. Lucien was leaned casually against the doorframe, his long, red hair spilling around his shoulders. In front of him, petite Nuan was grinning conspiratorially as they chatted about this courtier or that piece of ill-advised policy. Nuan was certain Lucien’s intellectual equal. Elain wished she’d been even a little less beautiful or funny or interesting. Elain could have ignored her entirely, then.

Her and Lucien were barely on speaking terms at all which was likely why he didn’t care if she was within hearing distance of him conversing with another woman. It wasn’t like Elain would do anything about it. No one thought she liked him but she did. Too much, so much she dreamt of him and thought of him and smelled him practically everywhere she went. More mating bond nonsense, she told herself even as doubt pricked in her stomach. After years of much of the same, she was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had a crush on Lucien Vanserra.

Elain dropped her hands to the table, flattening her palms against the glass. They’d leave soon and she’d be fine. Spared from having a huge outburst, from making a scene and embarrassing them all. Elain looked up just in time for Nuan to affectionately brush several long, ruby strands of Lucien’s hair from his face. The woman tucked them behind his ear with a familiarity that made Elain think they had perhaps once been much, much more than friends. Her heart leapt to her throat. Lucien’s eyes, both russet and gold, were wholly focused on Nuan, gazing down at her with that same warm affection Elain was suddenly so jealous of.

She wanted to touch his hair, she thought miserably, sliding the last stem of her arrangement into the vase. She meant to set it in the drawing room Nuan and Lucien were both standing in front of and when she went to lift the large, porcelain vase it nearly slipped from her fingers and went crashing to the floor. Elain collapsed with it, a loud, horrified gasp shattering the silence around her. Lucien turned, his eyes finding her. She could have stood, could have brushed it off, hefted the vase more carefully and avoided his eyes altogether. Instead she stayed exactly where she was, arms still wrapped around massive, breakable amphora, her eyes wide and pleading.

I’m a damsel. Help me, she hoped her body language was appropriate conveying. Lucien bit his bottom lip and then strode from the hall into the open dining room Elain had been working in. He crouched in front of her.

“Can I help you with that?” He asked, ever the gentleman.

“I can’t lift it,” she admitted, a lie. Their eyes met and Lucien was better looking up close than he was far away. Her breath caught in her throat. “That would be nice.” “It’s nothing,” he replied, reaching for the vase. It wasn’t an accident when their fingers touched; she’d done that on purpose. A muscle tightened in Lucien’s jaw as he stood, holding her vase against his chest.

“Where to?” He asked easily. She glanced towards Nuan, still standing in front of the drawing room, a secret smile teasing her lips.

“Uh…upstairs?” She lied again. “To my bedroom…if you don’t mind?”

Lucien closed his eyes for the briefest of moments.

“I’ll see you around, alright Lucien?” Nuan said, her voice full of amusement. He nodded once and then allowed Elain to lead the way, still holding her vase, her bright blooms swaying in his face. Why did she like that?

“These are pretty,” he told her as they walked quietly towards the stairs.

“Thank you,” she replied, suddenly feeling silly. Had she chased off a friend because she was jealous?

No, she decided. She’d established her dominance. She was his mate and no other women were allowed to touch him, especially not in front of her.

They walked silently, each lost in thought, until they reached her bedroom. Lucien set the vase to the floor beside a large window, his hair in his face again. She walked to him, unable to stop herself, and brushed it from his face. Lucien was utterly still beneath her fingers, hardly breathing at all.

“Can I call on you?” He asked as her fingers ghosted over his cheek.

“Solstice,” she breathed, taking a step back. “Come to Solstice.”

He nodded, reaching for her hand to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’ll see you then.”

He left her alone, practically trembling, the feel of his lips against her skin still burning in her memory.

#hell yeah she did

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