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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

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Listen- I had an idea. I was thinking about a Lucien Vanserra and the reader feeking the bond snap? But Lucien feeling like he's not worthy of her but she tells him how pretty his eyes are? Even with the scar? I was thinking of adding the prompt 32 angst and 12 fluff maybe.

Scars and All

Lucien x Archeron!reader, Helion x reader (father, daughter dynamic)

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Prompts: Fluff- “I wish you could see the way I see you,” Angst- “You… why did it have to be you?”

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister has always been ignored and rejected by everyone. When she finally finds her mate in the Day Court who thought her heart could’ve broken more at the rejection of someone who was made to love her?

a/n i legit could not find any good headers for this so i downloaded 6 billion of them from pinterest, my sister had made this dress for herself and i had direct access to it thats why the description is so long 😭 im trying a new thing with describing facial features and stuff like that more lmk if u like it or not. ✨ not edited ✨

There was a ball in Day Court, almost all high fae were invited, and as the sister in law to the High Lord of Night Court it was compulsory for all of us to be there.

The dress I'm wearing is a masterpiece of intricacy and elegance, designed to captivate and command attention. Crafted from the finest materials, it combines delicate silk and ethereal lace, creating a harmonious blend of softness and sensuality. The color chosen is a rich midnight blue, reminiscent of the starry night sky that blankets the Night Court.

The bodice of the dress is a work of art, adorned with intricate silver and sapphire beadwork that accentuates the curves of the wearer. It plunges low, revealing a hint of the wearer's décolletage, while thin, delicate straps grace the shoulders, adding a touch of allure. The back of the dress dips in a graceful V, teasing a glimpse of smooth, exposed skin.

From the waist, the dress cascades into a flowing skirt, made of layers of diaphanous silk that sways with every step. The fabric is sheer and airy, allowing a tantalizing view of the wearer's legs as she moves, creating an alluring dance between modesty and seduction. The hemline is asymmetrical, with delicate lace trim that adds a touch of whimsy and femininity.

As I move, the dress catches the light, shimmering and sparkling like a constellation in the moonlit sky. It exudes an air of confidence and sophistication, empowering the woman who wears it to embrace her inner strength and beauty.

The dress wasn't my first choice though. My first choice was an indigo dress with a sweetheart neckline, that showed just enough of my cleavage to not be named as slutty. It had a slit that showed my whole right leg, but Elain had liked that dress after she saw it in my wardrobe, so I gave it to her.

She always got what she wanted.

I wasn't a type of feminine beauty like my sisters. They all had graceful features and beautiful dainty blonde hair. Nesta and I were the most similar with our sharp features.

But that's where the similarities ended.

My hair was a lustrous cascade of ebony strands, shimmered like a moonless night sky, reflecting an ethereal sheen with every subtle movement. Its glossy surface captured the light, revealing depths of darkness that held an irresistible allure.

Once I had slipped my heels on, I headed down the stairs where everyone else was waiting for me. My lips curved into a sly smile when everyone's attention was on me, glancing over the room, my eyes stopped at Elain. Her dress (my dress) was falling at all the wrong places.

She wasn't as curvy as me, Nesta and Feyre. I don't get why she would want the dress, it's obviously not fitting her properly. Ignoring Elain's incessant huffing, I head to Nesta and Cassian.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, sister,” I compliment, giggling.

“I love this dress on you,” she gushes.

Nesta was my best friend, my confidant, the sister who cared for me.

“But I would’ve loved to have seen the other dress on you,” she continues. “You shouldn’t have given it to Elain,”.

“Oh it’s fine, look at the absolute beauty I have found instead,” I reassure.

“Elain are you sure you don’t want to change your dress,” Feyre asks.

Nesta and I snicker behind our hands, Elain turns around towards us and I watch in glee as her faces turns into a scowl.

“I’m fine can we leave already” she snaps.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Cassian winnows Nesta, Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel and Elain, while Mor winnows me.

Landing outside the day court palace, I mentally take in the beauty of the place. The sandy blocks making the palace and the beautiful candles hung at every corner. There truly is no darkness.

I look down at my dress, skepticism glazes over my face. I shouldn’t have worn such an eye catching dress.

How was I meant to know that there would be lights everywhere?

Cauldron fucking boil me.

After some mindless chatter with Feyre about how excited she is to show me her paintings. We’re escorted inside to see the High Lord of the Day Court lounging on his throne, looking like the childish playboy he is. Even though he was centuries old.

His beauty was otherworldly, the way his onyx locks cascaded down his back like they were paid to do so. Piercing amber orbs stared down at everyone. Clad in only a white fabric that was draped over him, he had an easy going presence to him. The sharp points of his golden crown glinting under the bright lights.

But the vision next to him put the Night Court stars to a shame. He was the sun personified. Tan skin, lighter than his father’s but darker than mine. Auburn red hair, similar to his father’s in length, rested along his back. A scar ran from just above his eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes met mine, maroon and golden. His features picked apart weren’t attractive but somehow together on him, he looked like a god.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once they went back to normal I saw a single golden thread tugging. My eyes followed the thread back to Lucien.

I ran outside. Mother’s tits, I found my mate.

I gave an experimental tug on the bond revelling in the feeling of being complete. Tugging on it again, I let him know I wanted to see him.

Sitting there on the roof, I waited for five minutes, then ten, soon twenty and as quickly as my hope had been born it had faded away. But still remnants of it remained, maybe he couldn’t get away so soon, after all he was the heir to the Day Court.

Holy shit, he was the heir to the Day Court, what if he wanted nothing to do with me?

My thoughts spiralled one after the other.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning around to look at Lucien, I beckon him over.

“I’m Y/N, I already know who you are so introductions won’t be necessary” My attempt at a joke fails.

Finally taking a closer look at his face, I take in the pained expression. “Are you all right?” concern laces my voice, I stand up and whisper, “Have you had enough to eat you look like you’re about to pass out,”.

I’m about to leave and grab him some food, when he speaks, “You… why did it have to be you?”.

I freeze in place, I don’t dare to turn around. My mind flashes with memories of Feyre not wanting to teach me archery because she was busy, or how the boys at Rita’s never even looked at me, or how Elain took it upon herself to make me hate everything about me, or how everyone had their other half and I had just found mine. But not even a full hour of knowing me he hated me.

And somehow after all those years of rejection, self hatred and jealousy my heart broke one last time.

I assume he could feel it through the bond, as I wasn’t all that used to blocking people out of my mind yet.

I run down the stairs to get off the roof, to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, finding an unoccupied balcony on the opposite side of the palace, I settled there, sobbing my broken heart out. The kohl from my eyes streaming down my face. My fingers red from rubbing my stinging eyes.

I looked around at the material of the dress pillowing around me. Such a waste of such a breathtaking dress.

Soft crying filled the room, my ears were ringing as I hadn’t heard the High Lord of Day Court enter.

“My dear, may I ask what’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

Gasping I stood up and did a sorry excuse of a curtesy, “High Lord” I bowed my head.

“Helion is fine,”

He sat down right next to the place where I was sitting. His muscled arm gently tapped the spot beside him as an invitation.

I sit down, smoothing my skirts out.

As if he can sense the awkwardness he clears his throat and says “We can stay quiet or we can talk about my son or your mate?”.

My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know me?” I mutter out.

“Sunshine I’m the High Lord of Day Court and unbeknownst to you, Rhysand talks a lot about you during meetings so most of the high lords consider you a little sister, but for me you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confesses.

A man I had not met before today, considered me his daughter, and six other high lords think of me as a little sister. My eyes well up in tears, my father had been one of the only people other than Nesta to ever truely care about me. And I had cried for months when he died.

To have someone think of me as their daughter again brought out a fresh wave of tears.

As if reflex, my head rests against Helion’s shoulder, we gaze into the night sky, in a comfortable silence. A strong hand reaches out and softly taps my head in a soothing rhythm.

“It’s ok sunshine.” he whispers.

After a while my tears stain my cheeks, Helion speaks up “I think you should give your mate another chance, I think you’ve mistaken his intentions,”.

Taking in his advice, I wordlessly stand up and hug the high lord. “Thank you” I breathe out.

Pulling away, I walk through corridors in search of Lucien.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me into a dark corner, while another hand muffles my screams.

I’m about to put the training Cassian gave me into use when I see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes.

“You can’t scream, I just wanted to talk to you,” he pleaded. Once his hand reluctantly leaves my mouth, I nod as a signal for him to keep going.

“When I said what I said before, I didn’t mean it as if you weren’t good enough for me,” he started. “I meant it as I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My eyes soften at his words. “I mean yes I am devastatingly handsome,” I roll my eyes at his smug words, unable to hide my own smile when his lips twitch upwards.

“But I don’t think I could ever be good enough for you, a thousand lifetimes over,” he whispers, impossibly close to me but at the same time painfully far away.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Lucien,” I mumble cupping his cheek. “Please have me,” he murmurs.

I grab his face gently and fuse our lips together.

“I’m yours, if you’re mine,”

a/n i’m sorry girl dad!helion is just too good to resist and like imagine being like a little sister to all the high lords (instead of heron it’d be eris), hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

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xtaketwox · 5 months

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Summary: The Archerons are new to London society. The rumors go that Viscount Archeron brought his daughters to London after the death of their mother in the south of France. Lucien is struck by the beauty of Elain Archeron from the first moment he sees her, but little does he know the Archeron family is hiding a secret that may just get him killed.

Fic Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Chapter Word Count: 3639

Master List; Read on AO3

A/N: Many thanks to @itsthedoodle for the header and for beta reading. Let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for the rest of the fic.

Chapter 1

“Do try not to look as though you are walking to the gallows.”

Lucien sighed as he walked toward his mother waiting at the top of the staircase. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t insinuated I was ready for marriage to every mother in town.”

His mother patted his face when he bent to kiss her cheek. “Not every mother. Only those with unmarried daughters.”

Lucien tried to make his face severe, although as usual, he found it difficult to be severe towards his mother. “I’ll ask that you not interfere in my life like this again. I haven’t been able to go anywhere this week without mothers shoving their daughters in my path.”

His mother sighed. “Seven sons and yet none are married. Can you blame me? I’d like to be a grandmother before I’m dead.”

Lucien scoffed. “You’ve hardly got one foot in the grave, Mother. Besides, I’m only twenty-seven. It’s Eris you should be hounding. He’s nearing forty.”

She sighed again, this time with a tinge of sadness. “Eris is Eris. You know as well as I do, there’s no talking him into something he doesn’t want to do.”

Lucien couldn’t blame Eris for not wanting to get married. None of his half-brothers seemed inclined to continue the Vanserra line. Their father, Beron, the Duke of Ottum, had been a bastard, by all accounts. He had died before Lucien was born, allowing his mother to marry the man she had loved since before she was forced to marry Beron and birth him six children. Lucien was a product of that union, had grown up witnessing how very in love his parents were. He supposed he understood why his mother was eager for him to marry, to perhaps find the same marital bliss she had with Helion, the Duke of Daitonn. What she failed to consider, however, was that marrying for love was nearly unheard of among the members of the British aristocracy. Matches were most often made for money and status.

His mother looped her hand into his arm and pulled him toward the stairs, at the bottom of which they were to greet their guests as they arrived for the ball. His father was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a smile on his face, his eyes soft as he watched his wife and son descend the stairs.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Helion said, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Lucien looked away from the open display of affection. It wasn’t indecent, but they were still his parents and he hardly wanted to witness their open affection. The doors to the house opened, the first of their guests arriving, and Lucien just barely stopped himself from sighing, preparing for a long evening in which every mother would be shoving their eligible daughters into his face.

He pasted on a polite smile, greeting each family as they entered, the minutes dragging by at a snail’s pace. At least when the dancing started, he would be doing something more than nodding his head and pretending he wasn’t bored out of his mind. Of course, then he’d be forced to make polite conversation while women batted their eyes at him and tried to inflate his ego.

Lucien was nearly falling asleep as the last of their guests filtered into the ballroom, when a man and his daughter stepped through the door. Lucien’s eyes widened and he quickly schooled his face to hide his shock. The daughter was a vision, quite easily the most beautiful woman to walk through their doors tonight. She was dressed in the latest fashion, but there was no hiding the luxury of the fabric, much finer than even his mother’s gown. The dark jade green dress had a bodice of fine velvet, the skirt made of row upon row of gossamer silk flaring out from her waist and falling delicately to the floor. The neckline drew delicately across her collarbones and the same gossamer silk formed the sleeves. Her matching gloves were finely sewn silk lace, and across her neck was hung a string of emeralds with matching dew drop emerald earrings. Her hair was a honey brown that glimmered in the light, the curls piled high on her head accentuating the soft curve of her neck.

He leaned over to his mother as they approached. “Who is that?”

His mother frowned. “I don’t know.”

Before she could turned to his father to ask, the butler announced them. “Viscount Archeron and his daughter, Lady Elain Archeron.”

“Viscount,” Helion greeted, “I’m so pleased you could make it.” He turned toward Elain. “And how lovely to meet your daughter.” He gestured toward Lucien and his mother. “Allow me to introduce my wife, the Duchess of Daitonn and my son Lucien.”

Lucien nodded toward Elain even as his heart pattered strangely in his chest. “A pleasure.” Without stopping to think too hard about it, he said, “I don’t suppose you would do me the honor of the first dance?”

Elain’s smile was elegant and polite as she curtsied and held out her arm so Lucien could write his name on the card attached to her wrist. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lucien quickly wrote his name on the first line, already planning to request a second dance, and then stepped back with a nod. “Please enjoy the refreshments. The music should begin shortly.”

As the Viscount and his daughter walked away, Lucien’s mother turned to her husband. “How do you know them? I’ve never even heard of the Viscount.”

“I met the Viscount at Whites yesterday evening. He and his three daughters are new in town. They have been living in the south of France for most of his children’s lives. Apparently his wife was French, and after her death, he decided to move his daughters back to England, most likely in an attempt to find them a good match. I invited them this evening and plan to introduce the Viscount to some of the men.”

His mother clicked her tongue. “The poor dears, losing their mother like that and then to be uprooted. It must be awful. I wonder where the other two are this evening.”

“Perhaps they don’t feel up to merriment, given the circumstances of their moving to London,” Lucien offered.

His mother nodded. “Yes, you’re quite right. It must not have been too recent an occurrence, given they’re here and not wearing black, but I can imagine it must be difficult nonetheless.” She turned to Lucien with an eyebrow raised. “You were quick to claim Elain’s first dance.”

Lucien returned his mother’s stare. “Yes, well, I’m simply being a good host. It’s only fitting that as we’re the ones throwing this ball, I do my part to help the Viscount and his daughter fit in with the rest of London society.”

His mother hmm’d as his father chuckled. “Well,” she said, “just be careful you find out more about the lovely woman before you make a spectacle of yourself this time.”

Lucien scoffed. “I would never make a spectacle of myself.”

His mother raised her eyebrows. “Need I remind you of the time you declared yourself for Lady Jesminda, who was already engaged?”

Lucien winced. “That was a long time ago. I was barely twenty and I learned my lesson.”

Helion held out his arm for his wife, who placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Yes, well, remember that as the hosting family, you’ll need to dance with more than one young lady.”

Lucien barely contained his annoyed sigh as he walked beside his parents into the ballroom. His father nodded to the orchestra on the mezzanine and they immediately began a waltz. Lucien couldn’t help his smile as he found Elain and walked over to her.

He bowed and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Elain curtsied and placed her gloved hand in his. He walked them to the center of the ballroom, all eyes on them as Lucien turned, placing one hand on her waist, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder as he clasped her other hand in his. As he started to move, other couples joined them on the floor. Lucien hardly noticed them, the vision that was Elain Archeron capturing his entire attention. It was a wonder he could remember the steps to the waltz.

“You’re a fine dancer, my lord,” Elain said, her voice as elegant as her gown.

“You’re much more graceful than me, I’m afraid,” was his response.

Elain’s mouth curved as she tilted her eyes down. “My mother made sure that my sisters and I received dance instruction. I’ve been waltzing for many years now.”

“My father told me of the circumstances of your move to England. Please allow me to express my condolences.”

Another couple came careening toward them, and Lucien pulled Elain close to avoid a collision, his stomach flipping as her body came flush against his. He glared at the gentleman before reluctantly placing space between them once more.

Elain looked up at him, the soft brown of her eyes reminding him of a fawn’s coat or warm honey. Her complexion was pale, but her eyes softened the otherwise cold look of her, and the overall effect was devastating.

He swallowed hard, not remembering what they were speaking about until Elain said, “Thank you, my lord. It was quite a shock, but I do believe my father made the best decision when deciding to move us to England. It was quite difficult to be reminded of my mother in every stone.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say to that, which was unusual. He prided himself in his ability to talk his way through any situation, but something about Elain was halting his ability to think. “Yes. I can imagine that would be difficult.”

Elain gave him another soft smile. “Let us not speak of such dark topics. It’s not fitting for a ball, after all.”

Lucien smiled back, taking the not so subtle hint that Elain did not wish to speak of her mother’s passing. “You’re quite right.” He gripped her close once more when another pair of dancers brushed too close. Really, people ought to learn how to dance before subjecting their fellow dancers to their shoddy footwork. “Have you been in London long?”

Elain shook her head as she took a step back, once more putting space between them. “We arrived in town not three days ago.”

Lucien raised his eyebrows. “So soon? I’m surprised you’re not at home recovering from your voyage.”

Elain laughed softly, the sound reminding him of the sound of wind chimes, tinkling softly in the breeze. “That is why my sisters did not join us, but I cannot resist a ball.”

The waltz came to a close, so Elain stepped back, curtsying as Lucien bowed. When she made to let go of his hand, Lucien gripped it harder.

“Forgive me for being so forward, but I was wondering if you still had dances available and if I might ask for another dance later this evening?”

Elain’s answering smile sent relief through his body. She held out her wrist once more and he took it and wrote his name on the last dance of the evening. “I shall see you for the last dance then,” he said as he let go of her wrist. She curtsied once more and walked over to her father.

Lucien didn’t realize that he was staring until his mother whispered in his ear, “Remember there are other young ladies here that require partners.”

Lucien sighed. It was going to be a long night, but at least he had another dance with Elain Archeron to look forward to. He went to get a beverage before he became surrounded by ladies and their mothers.

The evening wore on not unpleasantly. Lucien enjoyed a ball, even if it was his mother’s attempt at marrying him off, the mothers of London’s society doing their best to help her. Some young ladies were terrible dancers and others were terrible conversationalists, but regardless, he had to admit he enjoyed himself. As well, there was the prospect of another dance with Elain to keep him happy.

Elain had spent the entire evening dancing, her card rapidly filling as the other eligible bachelors of London vyed for her attention. Lucien tried not to stare at them all, to wonder if she enjoyed their company more than his. He reminded himself that he didn’t wish to insult the ladies he himself was dancing with; it was not their fault that Elain Archeron had arrived in London to take away the attention of all the men in society.

Still it was difficult to keep his eyes off the vision that was Elain as she twirled around the dance floor, so regal that she looked as if she were floating around the room, the silk of her skirt trailing after her. Eventually, the last dance of the evening was announced and Lucien did his best to walk calmly to where she was standing next to her father, a cup of punch in her hand.

Her lips curved up as he bowed and held out his hand. “I believe this last dance is mine?”

She handed her cup to her father as she curtsied, taking his hand. He couldn’t help but wish that it was ok for ladies to remove their gloves, so that he might feel her skin against his. He walked her back to the center of the room and placed his hand on her waist.

As they started dancing about the room, he asked, “So, how was your first ball in London?”

She smiled, her eyes dancing and her cheeks flushed. “It was quite entertaining and just what I needed after several weeks of traveling.”

He knew he shouldn’t ask, that it wasn’t proper, but, “Have any of the gentlemen caught your eye this evening?”

He knew he should be embarrassed for being so bold, as well as for showing how much he cared about her answer, but couldn’t find it in himself to worry what she thought of him as her smile grew and her alluring eyes shifted down. “There are many fine gentlemen in London. The ladies are quite lucky to have such a pool from which to choose husbands, but you, sir, are the only gentleman with which I’ve shared two dances.”

Lucien didn’t bother to moderate his grin. “Well then, I hope to share many more dances with you in the future.” He tightened his grip on her waist before adding. “Perhaps I will also see you at the opera?”

Elain looked up at him, a coy smile on her face. “Perhaps.”

Lucien’s grin grew and they fell into a companionable silence as they moved about the room, staring into each other’s eyes. The urge to kiss her came over him quite suddenly and he just barely resisted. It would make him a bastard of the highest order if he were to kiss her in full view of London society, especially given she had been in town for a mere three days, but the urge remained nonetheless.

When the song ended, Elain curtsied and Lucien held out his arm. “Will you allow me to escort you to your carriage?”

Elain placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “You may.”

Many people glanced their way as they made their way toward the front door, the women doing little to hide their disappointment that they weren’t the one on his arm and then men doing little to hide their envy that he was the one to escort Elain. No doubt Lucien would have to be quick if he decided to propose, as surely Elain would have men lined up around the block.

When they reached the Viscount at the door, Lucien thanked them both for coming before asking if he could call upon Elain the following day.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” the Viscount replied. “I indulged my middle daughter this evening, but our home is not yet ready to receive guests, and my other two daughters are not yet recovered from our long journey. Perhaps another time.”

Lucien nodded and smiled despite the disappointment coursing through him. “Of course. Another time then.”

He watched as the Viscount and Elain got into their carriage before turning back into the house, straight into the smirking face of his mother.

“Well,” she said, “that was quite the success, I do think.”

Lucien looked to the ceiling and sighed in mock irritation. “I hate it when you’re right.”

She patted him on the cheek. “I know, my darling boy, but what else are mothers for if not to annoy their children with wisdom?”

Helion walked up, hand to his mouth as he yawned. It was nearly three in the morning. “Shall we, my dear?”

His mother nodded and looped her hand through his father’s arm. “I might just fall asleep standing up if I don’t find my bed soon.”

Lucien followed his parents up the stairs, turning in the opposite direction for his room.

Despite not planning to spend the season finding a wife, one might just have dropped into his lap unexpectedly.

~~~~~~

The following evening, Lucien spent his time playing cards at White’s with his good friend Jurian and several other men. He had slept until nearly noon, but with Elain’s father declining his offer to visit, Lucien had seen no reason to get out of bed earlier.

By the time he left the club it was nearing midnight and he was nearly drunk, having gone a little heavy handed on the wine throughout the night. He stared out the window as the carriage meandered down the road. There weren’t many carriages out at this time of night, so the trip back to his home shouldn’t take long. Still, he willed himself to sober up a bit. His mother hated to see him drunk and he hated to disappoint her. Eris had once alluded to the fact that Beron had been drunk regularly, so Lucien could certainly understand why it bothered her.

They were just passing by the edge of the slums when a glint of golden hair caught his eye. He sat up, and peered out the window. Surely he was wrong. No lady would be alone this late at night, especially in this area of town.

He rapped the top of the carriage. “Stop the carriage.”

The driver pulled over as a woman who looked very much like Elain Archeron turned into a dark alley, oblivious of the unsavory gentleman who was following close behind. Lucien’s heart was in his throat as he leapt out of the carriage before it had come to a complete stop. Elain—or whomever the woman was—was in trouble. He wasn’t quite sure how he would help her, having no weapon on him but his own two fists, but he could hardly leave her to be assaulted. He could only hope the man wasn’t carrying a knife or pistol with him.

Lucien ran toward through the mud, nearly getting trampled by another carriage as he hurried across the street. The streets weren’t as noisy as during the day, but there was still enough sound that he couldn’t be certain of the scream he heard coming from the alley. He quickly pumped his legs, skidding to a halt in the dark alley, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.

“Hey! What are—” He pulled up short, uncertain what exactly his eyes were seeing.

The man who had followed the woman who looked like Elain into the alley was backed against the brick wall, his eyes glazed over as the woman pressed her lips to his neck. Lucien blinked for several seconds as the reality of what he was seeing caught up to him, the wine leaving his brain muddled. It appeared he wasn’t saving a woman from assault; rather, he had interrupted what appeared to be a romantic interlude.

“Pardon me,” he said, stepping back, now certain the woman could not be Elain Archeron. No woman in society would be in this part of town, and certainly not with her lips pressed against a man’s neck.

“Help—me,” the man rasped, his fingers twitching toward Lucien, stopping him in his tracks.

As if finally alerted to his presence, the woman pulled away, the man she had had her lips against sliding down the wall. Lucien’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the woman before him was indeed Elain Archeron.

Except his mind could not process what he was seeing. What appeared to be blood was dripping down one corner of her mouth. Her teeth also looked quite strange, two of them much longer than the rest, resting against her lips and calling to mind the word fangs. Lucien’s eyes flicked to the man now laying on the ground, at what appeared to be two puncture holes which were slowly leaking blood down his neck. When he looked back to Elain, it was to find her tongue darting out to capture the red liquid on the corner of her mouth. Before his eyes, the sharp fangs grew shorter, sliding back behind her lips, and Elain grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed the rest of the blood off her chin.

“I—I don’t understand.” Some subconscious part of him knew that he was in danger, forcing him to back up a step, even as his rational mind tried to explain away what he was seeing. There was no way that Elain Archeron, daughter of a viscount, could have overpowered that man, no way she was drinking his blood. There had to be some other explanation.

Elain sighed as she replaced her handkerchief, sorrow filling her eyes.

“Oh Lucien. I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

#Victorian AU #Vampire AU #Vampire Elain #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction

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shadowisles-writes · 1 year

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We Could Pretend to Form an Attachment | Chapter 3 | ACOTAR Writing Circle

Summary: Desperate to escape the ton's expectations, Elain Archeron makes an unlikely arrangement with a handsome stranger. (Header and summary by @velidewrites)

writing circle masterlist / chapter 1 (@velidewrites) / chapter 2 (@the-lonelybarricade)

A/N: First of all, I am so sorry for the time it took me to finally get to the end of this. I did not expect so many things would happen between the time I started this writing circle and now. I’m here now with this last chapter to finish the story and say thank you for your patience to everyone who’s been waiting for this <3

Word count: 6401

Three balls. That was all that was left before the end of the season and Elain did not know how to feel about it. Her arrangement with Lucien had worked, no other man had attempted to court her and Nesta was too busy with the king to notice the prince’s interest in Elain was a pretense. Elain’s interest in him, however, was not entirely fake.

It had begun as a thrilling experience—maybe it wasn’t for Lucien, she often reasoned with herself, but Elain had never lied and broken the rules like this before. Making this decision and acting desperately in love with him knowing there was no pressure for her to get married at the end was exhilarating. For the first time in years, Elain was having fun. Lucien played the part all too well by stealing all of her time at each and every function, making her laugh almost constantly and reinforcing their image as a lovesick couple.

The only question that remained, as Lady Suriel had mentioned in her last piece, was when exactly the prince would propose to the diamond of the season.

Expectations were high for this ball and Elain knew it. Even Nesta had begun to look at her interactions with Lucien more closely; she brought his name up in conversations and prodded to find out what kind of intentions he had. Elain made sure to describe him as the perfect gentleman despite the crude jokes he often made to watch her blush.

She was carefree when she was with him. This ball should have been something to dread, all eyes would be on them, but Elain knew that all she had to do was dance with Lucien and he would make the world around them disappear.

Elain and her sister were walking up to the manor when a deep but smooth voice brought the eldest Archeron daughter to a stop, “Nesta.”

The general stood in the gardens, a few feet away from the stairs that would lead them to the main hall. Elain looked at him with a slight frown, surprised he knew her sister and hadn’t even used a title to address her.

“I will find you inside,” Nesta nodded toward the doors for Elain to go without her.

She used the kind of tone that left no room for argument. Nesta had taken after their mother in that regard, as would have been expected considering she was the only one she had ever spent time with.

Elain hesitated for a second, but her sister waited and watched her walk away before she folded her gloved hands together and turned back to the general.

“Cassian,” she greeted the man with a nod.

The conversation would not be private when so many were still walking past them, but Nesta knew she drew little attention when she wasn’t dancing or with the king. No one would look twice at a soldier, either.

“Are you well?” His eyes lingered on the bruise on her arm.

Only he could see it under the dark sheer fabric. Nesta had made sure the dress would make the purple marks unnoticeable, but Cassian knew where to look.

“I am well.” She lifted her chin, not giving in to the urge to cover herself or cower. Nesta would not show weakness. “If that is all, I must join my sister.”

“I am sure lady Elain can handle another moment without you, the prince seems rather smitten with her after all.”

“The king too.”

Cassian huffed. “I was under the impression his majesty’s attention was more focused on you.”

Nesta pursed her lips slightly. “Is that what you wish to discuss with me?”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was alright after Tomas-”

“What is wrong with you?” Nesta seethed and quickly checked that no one was close enough to overhear. “Do not bring that up ever again. Nothing happened.”

Cassian’s tone switched just as fast. “You’re welcome for throwing that animal in a cell and making sure nobody saw you alone with a man. Do you need to make it difficult for me to make sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t need you.”

“I know.” Cassian only looked at her for another second before he turned and walked away.

Mamas were ushering their daughters along the path illuminated through the gardens, some of them fussing over necklaces that didn’t sit right or strands of hair that slipped out of updos. Nesta, just like Elain a moment before, walked alone among them. Her younger sister had seen Lucien’s crimson hair from afar and knew she’d be taken care of the moment she reached the top of the stairs.

Elain didn’t have to interrupt his conversation to get his attention. Lucien saw her when she reached the bottom of the stairs and detached himself from the group of men to wait for her at the top.

“Your highness,” she placed her hand in his.

“My lady,” Lucien brought it to his lips. “You look beautiful.”

“I am not the diamond of the season for no reason,” Elain smiled when he offered his arm to guide her inside. “You look very handsome in green.”

He looked more than handsome, but she didn’t know if there was a way for her to say that to him. Lucien looked down at her with a smile as they made it past the doors, “How unsurprising, then, that a prince would be so quick to fill your dance card at each ball.”

“Lucky me. I do wonder how long it’ll take for his proposal to come,” she teased, reminding them both of Lady Suriel’s last piece.

“A proposal, Lady Elain? I believe that to be the opposite of what you asked me for when you walked into me that first night.” Lucien guided them through the room, his stature and easily recognisable hair getting people to move out of the way before he ever had to consider taking a step aside.

“You would dare call me clumsy? That incident was entirely your fault.”

He laughed, a teasing glint in his eyes as he replied. “Why else would you need to hold onto my arm so tightly?”

Elain instantly relaxed her grip. “Apologies,” she murmured. She had gotten entirely too comfortable around him in those few weeks.

“Come on Elain,” Lucien rested his hand on top of hers to keep it on his arm. “By now you should know I don’t mind being touched.”

The music changed, and he used that opportunity to pull her into the center of the room. It was a simple waltz that even the worst dancers could master, perfect for them to keep talking, and for Lucien to put his hands on her.

“There are people watching,” Elain held back a shiver when his palm slid up her waist to her ribs.

“It’s a good thing,” Lucien murmured as his thumb caressed her over the fabric of her gown. “Or you’d already be ruined,”

“I guess only you can find that amusing.” She looked past his shoulder rather than in his eyes.

Lucien was usually considerate, but he was still a man. Elain did not have the luxury of making jokes about her purity. There was at least one girl who found herself alone with a man every season, and she was always blamed while the man could walk away unscathed. In lucky cases, the man agreed to marriage, but either way the reputation of her family remained tainted. Elain dreaded to know what would happen to hers should she get in such trouble.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound offending,” Lucien gave her the closest thing to an apology she imagined a prince could utter. “Simply that we may both greatly enjoy an opportunity to be alone.”

“Everything I heard about you before we met must have been founded on many truths.”

“With your own reputation so pristine,” he reminded her. “The town sees me as little more than a prince you have successfully charmed.”

“You do scare every other man away with little effort, though I fear my sister has stolen the public’s attention by earning herself the king’s consideration.”

Elain could see Nesta, hands folded in front of her beautiful gown as she addressed the king on the other side of the room. Lucien took a few steps that made them turn and watched them interact too.

“She could have married Eris as a debutante had she wished to,” he turned his attention back to Elain. “I believe our arrangement is the only reason she would let him court her now.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucien frowned, like the answer was evident. “Had my brother married her, you and your younger sister would have yourselves with a husband within that year. With you married to me… Eris would be more inclined to give your younger sister a few years before he sends her off somewhere.”

“How do you know that?” Elain nearly missed a step as she tried to process his words.

“You’d be naive to believe he would waste time on taking care of you. Nesta is clever, but even she can’t go against his decisions,” he took a couple of smaller steps to match her mishap. “The way I see it, your sister expects me to propose before the king does. One royal wedding is enough for the season, it would buy her another year.”

“Excuse me, your highness, but I think I need some fresh air.” Elain moved away from him and didn’t look back until she was outside and the cold air was making her shiver.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be walking alone in the gardens, but everyone was dancing and she needed the space. How could Lucien not have told her this information before? The arrangement that had made her feel so carefree was the reason she would soon be doomed to marry any man the king declared fit for her.

Nesta would be unable to refuse the King’s proposal, Lucien would find another woman to entertain him, and Elain and Feyre would find themselves stuck in loveless marriages for the rest of their lives.

“Elain,” Lucien called out after her, his long legs allowing him to catch up with her easily.

Hearing his voice made Elain feel less sick, the weight of his betrayal fueling her anger instead. “You knew from the start,” she accused, turning around to face him when he got close enough. “You knew I would take the attention off you, and you had no trouble trapping me in this arrangement knowing Nesta could not refuse the king and I would be forced to wed a man I do not want in a few weeks anyway!”

“I agreed to this to help you.”

“You agreed to help yourself!”

“Elain,” he tried to soothe her. “Calm down.”

“This is my life we’re talking about!” Elain exclaimed, torn by a rush of emotions. “How do you want me to calm down?”

“It’s going to be alright,” he placed a hand on her arm, and the warmth of it made her allow it to remain on her skin. “If Eris does marry Nesta, I promise I will help you. We can stall things, find another solution.”

“What about Feyre?” Elain’s eyes filled with tears as she thought of the fate her little sister was trapped with. “She is seventeen, and she might be shipped off to some man in another city away all by herself.”

Lucien took a tentative step closer and cupped her cheek to wipe a teardrop from her pale skin. “Eris will find her a good lord, she won’t want for anything.”

“What about a choice?”

“You want to choose your husband, Elain?” He gestured towards the manor. “You’re the diamond of the season, any of the men at this ball could be yours.”

Elain remained silent, her eyes falling shut as she tried to keep herself from crying more. This was not how her night was supposed to go, her life was not supposed to fall apart that quickly.

“Elain, tell me what to do to fix this.”

Marry me, she thought. He was the only man she could bear to think of as a husband, they could lengthen their arrangement and make it all work forever. They would get along as easily as they did since they met, Elain would feel safe. There was nothing more she could wish for, but she did not dare to speak the words out loud when she knew it was the one thing Lucien would never do for her.

“Dear lord,” a woman exclaimed close to them.

A chorus of gasps followed as eyes fell upon the scene. Elain, in the gardens, alone with a man with the most terrible reputation. Lucien’s hands had fallen from her skin already, but it was far too late. They were caught.

Elain’s stomach twisted with dread and she was seconds away from being sick. She was ruined, her life was over and her sisters would suffer through the humiliation of her mistake. Her eyes couldn’t focus enough for her to notice who was around them, but she frantically searched for her older sister in the crowd that was forming.

Elain forgot how to breathe, her chest tightened and her limbs trembled. She was barely able to spot Nesta’s dark gown through the crowd of people before she collapsed and lost consciousness.

She was in her bed when she awoke. Elain hoped the ordeal from the other night had been a nightmare, but her sisters sitting beside her bed were proof that it had happened. Immediately, she wept. Nesta looked up from her book and Feyre from her embroidery to come sit on the edge of her bed.

“It’s alright,” Feyre tried to reassure her, forever the one to bring warmth to their cold home.

“Calm down, Elain,” Nesta let out an exasperated sigh as she set the cup of tea down harder than necessary. “The prince has been courting you for weeks now. I’m sure he would have announced a marriage there and then had you not fainted.”

“He won’t,” Elain tried to wipe her tears, but more fell to replace them instantly. “He never will.”

Feyre handed her a handkerchief to dry her face. “Nonsense,” she said. “He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Elain cried out, staring at Nesta rather than her younger sister. “He doesn’t want to marry! This was all an arrangement for us both to be left alone!”

Her blue eyes turned icy. “What do you mean an arrangement?”

“He knows I don’t want to marry. We were pretending.” Elain summed up the situation in the most simple way she could. “I wouldn’t be the first girl he ruins and leaves alone, so stop with your bloody empty promises that everything will be alright!”

“Elain what did you do?” Feyre asked through a whisper.

“I told you I didn’t want any of this,” Elain didn’t break Nesta’s stare. “The prince was the only one who could get you and the king to leave me alone.”

“You should have told me,” she exclaimed, exasperated. “You should-”

“You should have listened!”

Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose and took two, slow deep breaths before she talked again. “Both of you stay here, I don’t want anyone else entering the house until I’m back.”

“Where are you going?” Feyre looked up in panic as Elain broke down into sobs again.

“To fix all of this.”

Nesta marched through the royal gardens with such confidence that none of the guards questioned her presence. Had she not been so full of rage, she would have scoffed at the pathetic security of the grounds. It was Cassian who noticed her just before she could enter the palace.

“Nesta,”

“I am here to talk with his majesty.” She stopped an inch from him, waiting for him to step aside, but Cassian held his ground.

He looked like he would offer words of comfort but thought better of it at the last second. “Do you truly think the prince will listen?”

Nesta knew he wouldn’t. She had no power over Lucien Vanserra, but she could bargain with Eris. “He’ll listen to the king,”

“So you’re going to promise yourself to him.” Cassian’s lips pressed in a tight line. Nesta remained silent, and that was enough of an answer. “You deserve better than a man who will never love you.”

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Nes,” he said her name with such longing. His eyes said everything his lips didn’t. Find another way. Choose me. Please. He’d fight for her if she even gave him the slightest hint that she wanted him to.

Nesta could not take it any longer. There was no other solution, so she was no longer asking when she said, “let me in.”

Cassian stepped aside. She marched into the entry hall with her head high and did not falter for a moment.

“Nesta Archeron.” The prince saw her before she could reach the throne room. “I did not expect you to leave your house today.”

“Did you expect me to be ashamed?” Nesta glared daggers at him. “You are the one responsible for her pain. Elain was never at fault and yet she is the one suffering the consequences of your thoughtless actions.”

“How dare you-” Lucien tried to get back at her, but she didn’t leave him the space to speak.

“An arrangement to take the pressure off your shoulders?” Nesta pointed at his chest and stepped forward. “You are a man, a prince! Did you ever consider what your games might do to Elain? You get to walk away unscathed and her life is falling apart!”

Lucien was speechless for a moment. “I never meant to-”

“That’s the thing with you men,” she cut him off a second time and rolled her eyes at him. “You never mean anything.”

“Lady Nesta, you have crossed a line and I advise that you take a step back.” The prince nearly growled. “You know nothing of my intentions with your sister, and you should remember that her actions were all driven by your behavior.”

“Your highness, if I may,” a guard interrupted before the fight could escalate. “His majesty has requested to see you. Both of you.”

They glared at each other the whole way to the throne room only to find Eris sitting high up on his throne, looking down at them with far too much satisfaction written on his face. Nesta knew he had always wanted her, and now he had her trapped.

“Nesta Archeron,” he smiled. “I assume you’re here to talk about your sister’s unfortunate situation.”

She gritted her teeth. The bastard had been waiting for this moment for too long.

“I tire of the games, your majesty.” She could not hide the irritability in her voice. Eris didn’t have to taunt her, or ask if she’d finally agree. He already knew what her answer would be.

“I’ll cut straight to the chase, then.” Eris nodded and let his eyes trail to Lucien. “I leave you with no choice brother. I will not tolerate that my future wife’s family suffer humiliation and tarnish to their names. You will visit their house and inform Elain of the engagement today, and the announcement will be in the paper first thing in the morning.”

“Your majesty,” he bowed his head slightly. There was nothing else for him to do, and Nesta at least had that relief though the weight of what she would have to do was now heavy on her shoulders.

“You and your younger sister will move into your own quarters here, and we will wait until Lucien’s mistake has been fixed to make you a queen.” The king concluded.

“I have another condition,” Nesta interrupted before she could be dismissed.

“You truly are in no position to make demands,” Eris smiled. “But I will hear it.”

“Feyre will not be forced into a marriage she did not choose.”

It was too late for her and Elain, but their youngest sister could still have a chance to choose.

“Very well. I will trust that the girl can make the right decision.”

Elain was silent throughout the wedding preparations. She stood still for her dress to be fitted and let her sisters make all the decisions. Nesta took her role seriously, she was good at bossing people around, and Feyre followed everywhere she went to give her opinion. She corrected Nesta in her choice of flowers, reminding her Elain would prefer peonies over roses, or in her choice of cake because she knew Elain’s favorite flavor was lemon raspberry and not chocolate.

Lucien provided personnel for the preparations, but Elain never saw him. She hadn’t talked to him since that dreadful afternoon at her house when he announced the wedding date. Elain had been sitting in a chair by the window near catatonic when he arrived, and she hadn’t moved from it until he was gone. She vaguely remembered Lucien arguing with Nesta over sunlight, but she had spent so much time crying that morning that her head had been pounding the whole day. None of it felt real until she walked down the aisle to Lucien.

Elain knew what was happening then, but she only repeated all the words that were expected of her mechanically, looking over Lucien’s shoulder rather than in his eyes the whole ceremony. There had been no time for them to talk, and the first kiss that Elain had hoped she would share with someone she loved in some romantic moment was stolen from her in front of more people than she could count.

“You looked ethereal in that dress today, Elain.” Lucien turned to her after he closed the door to their suite. He was still holding her hand, so she broke away from his touch.

“Why are you trying to make this something it isn’t? I know the king forced your hand, I don’t need you to pretend to be like this when no one is watching.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Elain scoffed. “This is nothing more than a marriage I never wanted to a husband who doesn’t want me either.”

“Did you truly expect to live your whole life unmarried?” Lucien asked as he unbuttoned the top of his jacket. “Did you never want to experience someone else’s touch? Even something as simple as a kiss?”

“I wanted to experience them with love.”

Elain had always known she’d have to marry. Women didn’t get to lead their lives alone, but she had hoped she could find someone who wouldn’t shackle her. Someone who would care for her and give her the love she wasn’t even sure existed.

“Do not mistake my reluctance to marriage for disregard toward your feelings, Elain,” Lucien softened his voice. “Love may not be the right word, but I never had to pretend to be attached.”

She wished she could believe him, but he had made himself too clear throughout their arrangement. He didn’t want her, so she dropped down on the bed and began to remove the uncomfortable shoes she had been stuck in all day. “And yet you would have never married me had you not been forced to.”

“I despise marriage as an institution, not you. I would have gladly lived my whole life unmarried, but if I must be married to someone, then I am glad it is to you,”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Lucien didn’t know how to respond; Elain had never been confrontational, but this at least was better than silence as she stared into nothing. “How many other ways do you want me to find to say that I want you?”

Elain took a step back as her mind went back to the moments they spent together dancing.

“There are people watching,” Elain held back a shiver when his palm slid up her waist to her ribs.

“It’s a good thing,” Lucien murmured as his thumb caressed her over the fabric of her gown. “Or you’d already be ruined,”

“You want my body, like you wanted every other woman before me,” Elain wished there was a way to put more distance between them. “And now we’re married and you have it no matter what I may have to say about it.”

“None of that is true,” Lucien truly frowned then, and alarm was written all over his beautiful face as he stepped closer to her. “Elain, look at me. None of that is true.” He brushed his fingers under her chin to keep her eyes on his. “Your body is yours regardless of our marriage and I will always respect that.”

Elain couldn’t help turning away. She had wanted to anticipate her wedding night with excitement, but she felt nothing but dread now that it was there. Her hands were bunched in the material of her dress to keep them from shaking.

Lucien took one last look at her before he crossed the room to the small desk and grabbed the letter opener. He slid it across his palm to make a shallow cut without hesitation.

“What are you doing?” Elain stepped back as he brushed past her and to the bed.

“Making sure the damn servants don’t go and spread rumors when they change the sheets in the morning.” He stripped the bed of its covers with his clean hand before letting the blood stain the sheet that covered the mattress.

“Lucien! Why are you putting blood on the bed, are you insane?” She reached for his arm and pulled him back without thinking.

“You… truly don’t know anything,” Lucien sounded as shocked as she had ever heard him, and she immediately felt the need to protest.

“That’s not true.”

“Really? By all means then, tell me all you know about sex.” He found a clean cloth to press to the cut he had made.

Elain remained silent and Lucien sighed. “Whatever you know, it’s not enough if no one even told you most women bleed the first time. If all we do is sleep in this bed tonight, the stains will make sure the servants believe this was a first, and the circumstances of our marriage will no longer matter once the news spread.”

“So you don’t want to… I mean, you won’t touch me tonight?”

Lucien shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Don’t you want to?” She pressed.

“I wanted you before we were married, Elain, I didn’t force you then and I won’t force you now, or ever for that matter.”

It took her a few seconds to accept the words and nod. It was unlike everything else she had heard before. It was a wife’s duty to lay herself bare for her husband on their wedding night; she hadn’t imagined that Lucien would ask her what she wanted.

“I might have wanted you, too,” Elain admitted when she remembered the warmth in her body every time they had gotten close while dancing.

“And now?”

“Right now I’m confused, and drained.”

“Let me help you out of that dress so we can go to sleep.” He motioned for her to come forward.

Elain almost said someone else should do that so that she could change in private before forgetting they were trapped in this room together until morning. She turned her back to Lucien and held the front of her dress to her chest so that he could undo the laces that held it up.

His fingers worked quickly, never brushing her skin and loosening the dress just enough that Elain would be able to get out of it by herself. There wasn’t much in the room, but Lucien handed her a flimsy nightgown from the pile of clean clothes that had been placed there for them. He showed her to the adjacent bathroom and left her alone to change.

Elain was holding her wedding dress in front of her body when she stepped out, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she found Lucien on the bed. He hadn’t bothered to pull the covers back though he was only wearing a clean, soft looking pair of pants. Elain tried not to stare at his chest for too long.

“Do you always sleep half naked?” She dropped her dress on the chair beside the bed and climbed in beside him.

“No, I’m usually just naked.” Lucien shrugged, though he did reach for the covers and pulled them up over both of their bodies. “You might have to get used to some things now that we’re sharing a bed.”

“Of course,” she murmured and hugged the blanket close to her chest.

Elain didn’t know how to feel. She was overwhelmed by too many emotions and couldn’t help the tears that began to fill her eyes as her marriage began to feel real. It took a moment for Lucien to notice something was wrong, and by the time he scooted closer to ask about it, Elain was burying her face in her hands to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Elain, I’m so sorry,” Lucien wrapped his arms around her to rest his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry it happened this way and you didn’t get the love story you deserve,” he whispered, desperate to comfort her. “I’m sorry I let you think I’d leave you like this.”

Elain fought against her chest to prevent sobs and managed to steady her voice. “Nesta told me the king had to force you to do this.”

“He did say he would not give me another choice,” Lucien admitted. “But I was coming to see you either way, and I would have chosen this no matter what my brother said.”

She didn’t want to pull away from his hold, but she had to look him in the eyes. “Is that true?”

“I can’t stand to see you cry,” he erased the tears from her cheek. “I could never live with myself if I hurt you.”

“Will you kiss me?” Elain whispered. “For real this time?“

Lucien cupped her cheek and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. He kissed her slowly, softer than he had ever been with anyone before. Elain knew she was clumsy, still unsure of what to do, but she followed his lead and finally felt like everything was right.

Lucien had to pull away first. She wouldn’t have, kissing and being so close to someone was new and she wanted to keep exploring it. He gave Elain a smile that reminded her they’d have plenty of other nights to do so. “Sweet dreams,” he kissed her forehead and kept her close to him as she let the exhaustion of the day wash over her and drag her into a restful sleep.

It took time for them to plan it, but Elain and Lucien soon moved to an estate far from the busy city by themselves. Officially, it was for them to enjoy their time as newlyweds. Truly, they were tired of the scrutiny and both wanted space from everyone around them. Nesta hated Lucien despite being the reason he was married to Elain, Feyre was always pestering her with questions about her wedding night, and the staff could not stop gossiping.

Elain had grown so uncomfortable that she barely ever spoke outside of her bedroom, too worried someone would overhear and distort her words to start rumors. Lucien had tried to help, he had grown amidst the politics and drama that came with being part of the royal family, but what Elain needed was space. The king had agreed to let them leave without a thought, he had little interest in Lucien’s married life.

They arrived in the evening, just as the sun was setting. Dinner was waiting for them, but Lucien took the time to show Elain the gardens. The light hit everything just right, and she seemed to have brightened up by the time they were sitting in the dining room. Lucien had asked that the bare minimum of staff was present in the house so they were left alone most of the time.

There was no rustle of people walking up and down corridors when they got ready for bed that night. Elain sat in her nightgown on the edge of the mattress, looking at the stars through the window. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Lucien undressing and coming to sit closer to her until his arms were around her.

She leaned into him, her back meeting his bare chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucien’s nose brushed the shell of her ear as he went to place a soft kiss on her neck.

Elain sighed and relaxed further against him. Every time he touched her, she became a little bit more pliant, a little bit more trusting. “Our marriage,” she rested her hand on top of his on her waist.

The room wasn’t cold by any means, but Elain still sank into his warmth, craving more of it as his breath caressed her skin when he whispered, “what about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would.” She said while her mind slowly switched itself off to focus solely on Lucien.

His hand trailed down over her nightgown slowly, her own remaining on top of it but never stopping him. His fingers reached the hem of the fabric and pulled it up to reveal more of her thighs. Lucien traced slow circles on the newly exposed skin, feeling the hitch in Elain’s breath as he made his way up. Her legs parted as she sighed softly, but Lucien’s hand moved back down torturously slow.

Elain had all but melted against him, her body grew more attuned to his touches every time he teased her, and heat rushed between her legs. The feeling that had become familiar though Lucien had yet to show her what it could lead to. He was willing, all she had to do was ask.

“Lucien,” she gasped when he dipped his fingers to her inner thigh and traced his way up sensitive skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” His hand lowered itself to her knee for a moment, fingers still tracing circles as he waited for her answer.

“No,”

Lucien moved back on the bed and pulled Elain with him to lay her down on her back. He caged her in in an instant, his weight pressing her body into the mattress as he kissed her. Elain moaned against his lips, arching up and meeting every demanding stroke of his tongue. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled a hand into his hair. Lucien groaned at the tug, breaking the kiss to press his lips along her jaw, down her neck and to her chest.

He lifted himself from her and grabbed the hem of her nightgown to pull it up. Elain took matters into her own hands and threw the fabric over her head to be completely naked underneath him. Lucien’s breath got caught in his throat as he took her in, the dim candlelight making her skin glow in the most beautiful way.

“My love,” Lucien sighed and lowered his mouth to her collarbone to gently bite into her skin.

Elain gasped, grasping his shoulders as he soothed the bite with his tongue. A trail of red marks began to appear on her skin, following Lucien’s path down her body all the way to her thighs. He nudged her legs and Elain obliged, spreading them open while his mouth followed to her inner thigh.

She had to press her palm over her mouth to hold back a moan she would have deemed embarrassingly loud when he bit into the sensitive skin and sent sparks through her body.

“Take that hand away from your mouth,” Lucien looked up at her with dark eyes. “I want everyone to hear how well I can please my wife.”

“Lucien, you can’t-” Elain cut herself off with a moan as he went back to his ministrations without listening to her attempt at an answer.

He groaned his approval at the sound, and Elain’s resolve disappeared. Her hands remained at her sides even when his skilled tongue left the soft skin of her inner thighs for the most sensitive parts of her. Her legs were hooked over his shoulders a moment later, pulling him closer as she tangled a hand into his hair and stopped worrying about the noises she was making.

There was no time to think when such pleasure was coursing through her veins. She could barely remember to breathe, didn’t even feel like she needed oxygen when Lucien was giving her more than what she ever thought she’d need. He didn’t come up for air either, smothering his face in her sweet cunt and grinding his hips into the mattress to relieve the ache in his cock every time he pulled a pleasured noise out of her.

Elain knew there would be no coming back from this. She would never stop needing him, never stop loving him no matter the circumstances of their marriage. His name fell off her lips like a prayer, encouraging him until the pleasure he had been building threatened to become too much. Elain cried out as she fell over the edge.

Her thighs tensed and squeezed his head, but Lucien’s tongue never left her skin. He let himself be crushed, content to remain between her legs forever if that was where she wanted him. Elain whimpered quietly as she regained control of her muscles and let her legs fall apart. Lucien had slowed, but he was still sending wicked waves of pleasure through her.

She knew he wouldn’t have stopped if she hadn’t tugged on his hair hard enough to force him to move back.

“One more,” he breathed out, almost begging. His russet eyes were on her face, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the slight sweat on her forehead. “Give me one more,” he repeated as he dove right back between her thighs.

Elain threw her head back into the pillow and knew that as long as he was willing, she’d let him stay there until after the sun came up.

#acotarwritingcircle #elucien #elucien au #elucien fic #elucien smut #elucien fluff #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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evafoxz · 2 months

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— elain archeron headers. 🦌

like/reblog if you save or use.

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darcylances · 2 years

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ﾟ･✿ヾ ( elucien ) headers ..

like and reblog if you use

#book headers #books headers #twitter headers #twt headers #twitter layouts #elucien headers #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar headers #book quotes #locs #green #pink

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velidewrites · 2 years

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Tethered | Part 2 | ACOTAR Writing Circle

Elucien College AU

Header by @azrielshadowssing

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Note: This is part two of a collaborative project, the ACOTAR Writing Circle organised by the wonderful @azrielshadowssing! I was honoured and excited to continue this story, and I hope you love it as much as I did! The third and final part will be written by another author, and you'll be able to find them via the official masterlist.

Part 1 | ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist

***

Elain woke up to the scent of coffee filling the dorm.

Rich and smooth, she took it into her lungs, breathing in deeply until it settled inside her. Her fingers tightened on the blanket, curling around the soft fabric, content to let the sunlight caress her skin, to kiss her eyelids as it leaked in through the windows. For a moment, there was nothing but the morning bliss wrapping around her, chasing a few more minutes of sleep.

A quiet click of the door shot her eyes open.

“You found my bed comfortable, I take it?”

Her heart stopped.

She’d slept in Lucien’s bed—was still in Lucien’s bed—and now he was here, hovering above her with an amused expression on his face.

Elain groaned, propping herself on her elbows. “What time is it?” she asked, her cheeks immediately flushing at the small rasp of her voice.

His mouth twitched to the side. “It’s nearing noon. You’re a lot of things, Elain Archeron but a morning person is not one of them.”

Wishing for nothing more in the world but for the mattress to split open and swallow her whole, Elain sat up fully, her feet brushing against the wooden floor. “I’m sorry. I got to campus late.”

Lucien hummed, russet eyes assessing her carefully, and she finally dared to take him all in.

Fresh out of the shower, he was a thing crafted from heaven.

With droplets of water dripping down his bare, sculpted chest—somehow shining golden, as if it reflected the sun itself—Lucien wore nothing but a towel, white and falling short just above his knees. Her blush deepened as she caught a glimpse of a sharp V just above the edge of the plush material, her mind shamelessly wandering to the sight hiding beneath. His hair, red and glistening as usual, was twisted in a low bun at the nape of his neck, no doubt to avoid getting wet—though she could tell the effort was only partially successful from the few stray, damp strands that framed his beautiful face.

There he was, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him, and Elain cursed herself for not having the good sense to set up an alarm so she could return to her room and sort herself out. She was certain she looked completely disheveled, with her hair all over the place and knotted beyond imagination. Horrified, she thought of her puffy face from yesterday, wondering if the redness persisted throughout the night. Knowing her luck, it most definitely had.

“I made you coffee,” Lucien’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, her gaze snapping back to his.

She blinked up at him in surprise. “I…what?”

A low chuckle. “Do you take it with sugar? I brought in a few sachets from the kitchen.”

Warmth spread through her as she absorbed his words, the tenderness behind them. It flickered in her chest, tugging at her heart lightly until it bloomed on her features. “Yes. I—thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He returned her smile. “It’s no problem.”

Elain reached for the cup on the desk, mixing the sugar in as Lucien plopped down on the chair next to it. Though lukewarm, the coffee tasted just as good as it smelled, bringing her senses to life with every sip. Her own fault, she supposed, for sleeping through the entire morning. How long had it sat out there?

Horror washed through her, freezing her blood down to the last drop as she’d realised Lucien had seen her sound asleep. She’d never snored—not to her knowledge, at least—but judging from the night she’d had, Elain could only imagine the image must have been less than appealing.

“Uh…what time did you get back?” she asked, silently praying for him to deny watching her sleep in his bed all morning.

Lucien smirked, as if he somehow read her thoughts perfectly. “About two hours ago. But I only made the coffee before I hopped in the shower.”

Great.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled again, cursing herself, Vassa, and the entire University of Velaris for good measure.

Lucien waved a hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His gaze fixed on her. “Are you feeling any better?”

Elain swallowed, eyes following the movement of his arms as they crossed on his chest. His muscled, wet—

“Could you put a shirt on?” she blurted, heat rising in her cheeks once again.

His mouth curved in a rogue smile. “Do I distract you, Elain?”

Yes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered, Lucien’s head tipping back in a laugh as he reached for a shirt hanging over the frame of his chair. “Where did you go last night?”

His lips twisted in a grimace, and the bright light in his eyes dimmed as he answered, “I had some business in town.”

Elain’s brows furrowed. “What kind of business?”

He rolled the shirt down, seemingly unbothered by the water soaking through the fabric slightly. “Just…family business. They needed my help with something.”

“In the middle of the night?”

Russet eyes scanned her face, his head angling slightly.

She dropped his gaze immediately, embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s none of my concern.”

That smile returned to his face, like the sun rising from the horizon and bringing upon the day. “Stop apologising, Elain.”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Right.”

Lucien nodded.

“I…” Elain hesitated, setting her empty cup back on the desk. “I’d better be going.”

Silence. Then, “Would you like to go get some breakfast? There’s a really great café east of campus.”

She considered. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Only her clothes from yesterday—crumpled from her sleep, stained with sweat, tears, and day-old perfume. A less than ideal choice for a first date.

Was that what it was? A date?

No, Lucien was a gentleman, a friend—and Elain was delusional. After last night, despite her outburst, he merely wished to help her out before she was ready to face her problems—to face her roommate—again. Her mind drifting back to the events of last night, Elain decided she wouldn’t mind staying out a little longer.

“You can wear my shirt,” Lucien offered.

Elain surveyed her outfit—the soft, lavender joggers, the pink socks—and sighed. “Alright.”

***

With two coffees in, Elain’s misery began nearing its end.

“You should eat more,” Lucien decided, transferring an almond croissant from his plate onto hers.

Already bloated, Elain shoved his hand away. “I’ve already had two. Leave me alone.”

He chuckled, looking over her shoulder to catch the attention of a waitress. “Could we have this to take away, please?”

Nodding, the woman took her plate, promising to return with a box in a minute. Elain took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair. “This was really good. I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”

Lucien smiled, finishing off his food. “I know. The seating upstairs has great views of the river, we should definitely try to get a table there next time. It’s so crowded on Fridays.”

Something fluttered in her stomach. “Next time?”

His eyes flickered. “Would that be okay?”

Taking a steadying breath, Elain said, “Yeah. Yeah, it would.”

Lucien’s face softened. Those russet eyes, shimmering in the afternoon light, scanned her. “Are you ready to talk about it now?”

Elain’s smile faded. “About what?” she asked, knowing perfectly what he’d meant.

His gaze was locked on hers, unyielding. “About last night.”

She didn’t reply for a while, turning her head to the window instead. The air hadn’t gone cold enough yet, not so early in the semester, allowing students to sprawl on the grass with their books, making the most out of the weather before rain and snow coated the ground. Her attention drifted to a couple taking their lunch on a red, picnic blanket. Elain thought back to her own, forest green and still smelling like its previous owner, still resting among the covers of her bed. In her dorm, where Vassa most likely was now. “There is nothing to talk about,” she finally said.

“You know that’s not true,” came the response, and Elain swore she could feel his stare piercing right into her soul despite not looking at him at all.

Lucien sighed. “I know Vassa can be a little…assertive.”

“Stubborn is more like it,” Elain cut in. “Stubborn and overbearing.”

“She means well,” he said, his tone softer somehow.

Her eyes slid back to his. “I don’t see how her throwing my phone out the window is a show of good will.”

He loosed a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers gliding along the shining strands. “Her methods aren’t as refined as you would hope them to be, I admit.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Lucien’s face turned solemn, and he remained quiet for a moment before he asked, “What happened, Elain?”

She looked him over. “Why do you care?”

He only stared at her.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Elain said, her gut twisting in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien let out a deep breath, a shadow of a smile returning to his features. “What did I tell you about apologising?”

“Right. Sorry,” she repeated, immediately cursing herself.

A small chuckle. “I only want what’s best for you, Elain. For the both of you,” Lucien said. “Vassa is my friend. I like to think that you are, too,” he added.

Elain’s throat tightened. “It’s…been a long time.”

He watched her for a long moment before he said, “Me too.”

That was enough. From a quiet place inside her, Elain spoke, “His name was Greysen.”

“Your ex.”

She nodded distantly. “The first few months were some of the best of my life. He was attentive, thoughtful. Handsome, too. He’d surprise me with flowers every week. Well, it became less of a surprise after a while, I suppose,” she added, “but I appreciated it nonetheless.”

Lucien remained quiet, focused fully on her words as she continued, “And then I found out I got into Velaris. It was my dream, you know—to study here. One of the best schools in the country. My mother had always been very ambitious, I…” she paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I lost her a long time ago. I wanted her to be proud of me, no matter where she is now.”

Elain went on, “So I guess you can imagine how excited I was when the letter came in the mail. I wanted to celebrate, so I called Greysen, told him to come over. I made dinner—a roast beef, his favourite even though I absolutely hate it. I lit up some candles and set everything on the table along with my acceptance letter. I was so excited,” she added quietly, tears starting to gather in her eyes.

He reached out for her hand, covering it with his strong and broad one. Elain welcomed in the warmth of his skin, swallowing the saltiness in her throat. “I won’t get into too much detail, but Greysen was not happy. He didn’t want me to leave the city, didn’t want us to be apart for the sake of ‘some dumb college’ as he called it. I—I tried to reason with him. I promised to visit every weekend, Velaris isn’t too far way, we’d be seeing each other almost as often as we did then—but he was unyielding. He told me to choose—my education…or him.”

Lucien’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t choose him, obviously,” Elain said. “I wish I could say we broke up and that was it. But…Greysen was determined. He came to my house every day for two weeks after that night, banging on the door until I agreed to hear him out. He only wished to talk, he said. I let him in.”

“Elain—”

“I was an idiot,” she added before he got a chance to say anything. “He yelled, told me I was wasting my life. He said I would regret this decision, that he would see to it. I told him to leave and never contact me again,” Her voice was trembling as she said, “Before he left, he’d punched a hole in the wall. Five inches away from my face.”

Lucien went deathly still.

“I didn’t see him again after that,” Elain continued, trying not to notice the way his grip tightened on her hand. “I was ready to leave him behind and move on. But then the accident happened.” She swallowed hard. “My sister was hit by a car. It was…it was bad. I couldn’t leave her. She’s fully recovered, thankfully, I…I don’t know what I would do without her. When our mother died, Nesta practically raised me—raised us, me and Feyre.”

“Elain,” Lucien breathed. “I’m so—”

“It’s okay now, Lucien,” she said, lacing her fingers through his own. “It’s been a difficult past few months, but we’re okay.”

“I…” he shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why did Greysen call you last night, then?”

Elain’s head dipped. “He messaged me when Nesta was in the hospital. He apologised for everything, told me he was afraid of losing me, I—he offered to help. Whatever I needed, whatever Nesta needed, he said he’d be there—anytime, anywhere. I…” she didn’t dare meet his russet stare, fighting back tears as she added, “I didn’t have anyone else. I don’t have anyone else. We have been texting for a while now—just texting, nothing more. He only asks how I’ve been, if I’m enjoying my time here…Two days ago, he asked if he could visit. He called last night because I haven’t answered his text yet.”

Silence fell between them, and she wondered if he debated whether he should just stand up and leave. This was complicated—she was complicated.

And then, his fingers caught her chin, gently lifting it up until their gazes locked and held.

“You’re not alone, Elain,” Lucien said quietly. “Not anymore.”

She choked on a sob. “Lucien, you don’t have to—”

“You have me,” he pressed, “and you have Vassa, too. People that want to be by your side because of who you are, not for who they want you to be. Elain,” he said, giving her hand a firm squeeze. “I would be honoured if you let me be one of them. I promise I will do my best to be the friend you deserve.”

Tears slid down her face, hot and burning, the fact that they were in public long forgotten. Lucien moved, raising the hand that was still intertwined with his own to his lips. Her breath caught in her chest as he placed a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm, the tender gesture humming through her like a beautiful song.

You’re not alone, Elain.

You’re not alone.

***

The screen of Elain’s phone lit up close to midnight.

I’m outside your building. Ready to go?

She smiled, putting on a hoodie as quietly as she possibly could.

“Going somewhere?” Vassa’s muffled voice sounded from across the room.

“I’m meeting Lucien,” Elain explained, eliciting a soft chuckle from beneath the pile of covers that was undoubtedly Jurian.

She picked out her roommate’s soft hiss towards the pile before Vassa spoke again, “See you in the morning, then. Have fun!”

Elain bit back a laugh. “You, too.”

A small pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Elain left the dorm.

Their relationship had been getting better and better for the past week. Elain was grateful for Lucien’s encouragement—Vassa was her friend, the first one she’d made ever since arriving in Velaris, and she quickly became like another sister to her in this foreign city. It took some tears and apologies, but the two were on the road to a friendship that meant more to Elain than any other one she’d had before.

With Lucien, it was…different.

He was her friend, too, of course. But somehow, he was starting to become…more. They’d spent almost every day together since their breakfast that memorable morning. The next day, they had managed to find a seat on the upper floor, and they’d talked for hours over the view of the Sidra, their fingers intertwined and resting on the wooden table. And every day after that, Lucien had somehow found an excuse to hang out—a new place to explore on campus, a quick study session. One time, he’d managed to catch her after a lecture with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. You look like you need it, he’d joked. He was wrong.

Elain needed him.

Tonight was a mystery to her, though. Lucien had only said to meet him in front of her building at night, and to wear something warm—he would take care of the rest. So Elain had slipped into clean, comfortable sweats, and hurried outside, her eyes bright like the stars on the night sky.

There he was, wearing his signature sly smile on his face, holding a small basket in one hand, and her forest green blanket in the other. Elain’s brows narrowed.

“You didn’t break into my room, did you?” she asked. She was certain she’d left it in the campus laundrette.

His grin widened. “Of course not, and I’m offended at the accusation.”

“Vassa?”

“Perhaps.”

Elain just huffed a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Look on the bright side, Elain,” he said, nudging her with an elbow. “At least I get to save you from Jurian tonight.”

She scowled. “I knew that was him!”

Lucien only laughed. “Let’s go.”

“Where, exactly, are you taking me?” she asked, falling into step beside him.

His head turned to her slightly. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

Elain hummed to herself. A blanket and a basked could only mean one thing. Had he truly organised all this only to spare her from her roommate and her boyfriend’s nightly activities?

Lucien’s eyes glowed as they finally reached the riverside. “We’re here.”

But Elain couldn’t say a word.

In front of her stood at least a dozen candles, peeking above the grass, their soft, golden light making the dark surface of the water shimmer playfully. Taking a step forward, Lucien set the blanket between them, letting the candles surround them in a small circle. He shucked off his jacket, kneeling to open the basket to reveal muffins, croissants—Elain’s favourite—and strawberries.

There was no doubt in her mind—he did this for her. Silver lined her eyes at the thought.

“What do you think?” he asked, patting down the blanket next to him.

Her voice was tight with tears as she said, “I’m thinking this is a fire hazard, Lucien Vanserra.”

A smile tugging up the corner of his mouth, he began unloading the basket. “Ah, my specialty.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, like a budding flower at the sight of the rising sun. Inches away from him, Elain sat, her fingers brushing against his skin as she reached for a strawberry.

“You…” Lucien cleared his throat. “You look really beautiful, Elain.”

The heat spread into her veins. “Thank you. I…you look great, too.”

Lucien snickered, tugging her closer to him. “Well, of course.”

Elain laughed breathlessly, daring to lean on his shoulder despite her heart thudding loudly in her chest. Her thoughts drifted to the week before, when she woke up in his bed to find him in nothing but a towel and that mesmerising smile of his. The same one he was flashing her now.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought. She had a feeling tomorrow morning would be full of surprises, too.

***

Before she could blink, they were kissing in Lucien’s room.

His mouth was hot, consuming—devastating as his strong arms wrapped around her. His lips, soft and full, caressed her own, worshipped her like an artist would his muse. Like a fever, his tongue swept into her mouth, and Elain moaned, a soft sound that made his body shiver against her own. His hands trailed down her body, exploring every inch until they settled just below her hips, his fingers brushing against her ass.

Lucien only broke away from her mouth to ask, “Are you sure?”

Elain had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Yes.”

Within seconds, she was sprawled beneath him on the mattress, her sweats long gone as Lucien began pressing kisses down her body—from her mouth to the hollow of her neck, to the bare skin beneath her breasts, to her abdomen.

Then, lower.

Elain sucked in a breath, and for a second, Lucien paused.

“I…” she hesitated.

His brows knotted. “Have you never been…?”

Her entire body flushing with heat, she answered. “No.” Greysen had never gone down on her. She thought she didn’t mind. Until now.

Until Lucien’s eyes glowed with a ferocity she’d never seen before, pure satisfaction filling his expression. “Let’s amend that, shall we?”

And before she could say anything, his tongue found her at last.

Elain mewled, the sensation like fire against her skin, mixing with the pleasure pooling at her core. Her eyes fluttered shut as he licked and stroked relentlessly between her thighs, his tongue on her clit having her shaking for him within minutes. Pleading, her fingers curled into his shirt, her walls clenching against nothingness in desperation.

“Lucien,” she begged.

She felt him smile against her sex. “All in good time, sweetheart.”

The low rumble of his voice made her shatter with a stifled cry.

Her chest heaving breathlessly, she watched Lucien rise from between her legs, sliding his shirt off to reveal the muscles she’d been shamelessly thinking about every chance she got for the past seven days. Elain swallowed, her stomach tight in anticipation, as her hands reached to shakily unbutton his pants.

There he was, naked before her, making her breath catch in her throat. He would ruin her.

Lucien’s words were guttural, dripping with desire. “Do you want this, Elain?” he asked. “Want me?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

Heavy-lidded, he smiled down at her. “Good,” he said, then dragged the thick head of his cock through her sopping folds.

Elain gasped, fingernails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent moon-like shapes in his skin as she braced herself to take him in.

Slowly, so slowly, Lucien pushed into her.

A small yelp escaped her at the stretch of him, delicious and stealing the air out of her at the same time as he thrust into parts of her that have never been reached before. Lucien stopped at the sound, allowing her to adjust to the sheer size of him.

Elain wiggled her hips, impatient. “Move,” she ordered, her walls clenching impossibly hard, begging for friction.

Lucien hissed. “Bossy.”

She only hummed her agreement.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a guttural sound, he began moving inside her, thick and heavy and rubbing against something inside her that left her to do nothing but cling to him and sob. Release began to gather along her spine, and Elain stopped caring who might hear. The bed groaned beneath the weight of their bodies as Lucien fired heat in her cunt, filling her so fully she threw her head back, quivering around him wildly.

Everything tightened as he slammed into her with a mighty thrust, his mouth finding the hot skin of her neck, kissing and sucking while he all but broke her apart.

Soon enough, she was crying out, her orgasm shuddering through her, hugging him so tight he gritted his teeth in an effort to stay buried inside her. Elain saw stars, white and glittering her vision, as Lucien came with a straining groan against her skin.

His hands were heavy on her hips as he whispered tightly, “Mine.”

***

Elain could barely walk the next day..

She didn’t mind, she decided, as she made her way back to her dorm after her dinner with Vassa. Lucien had sent her a text as soon as she left his place in the morning, blushing yet happier than ever before, promising to meet her again as soon as she was done.

With her building in sight, the ancient brick dark in the setting sun, Elain made out a figure pacing in front of the entrance. A smile bloomed on her mouth, and her steps quickened, ready to throw her arms around him and let the night consume them again.

“Lucien!” she called, practically running toward despite her aching muscles.

And then, the figure turned toward her.

Elain froze, meters away from him.

She blinked, then blinked again.

Impossible.

“Elain,” the man said, his face a cold grimace. “You haven’t answered my texts.”

“Greysen,” she breathed.

His frown deepened. “It sounds like you expected someone else, my love. Now tell me,” he said, blue eyes flashing with cruelty. “Who the hell is this Lucien?”

Tagging: @azrielshadowssing @the-lonelybarricade @headcanonheadcase @shadowsingerofnight @violet-shadows @hlizr50 @ofduskanddreams @thehaemanthus

#acotarwritingcircle #elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elucien au #elucien college au #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction

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the-lonelybarricade · 2 years

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We Could Pretend to Form an Attachment | Chapter 2 | ACOTAR Writing Circle

Summary: Desperate to escape the ton's expectations, Elain Archeron makes an unlikely arrangement with a handsome stranger. (Header and summary by @velidewrites)

Word Count: 3.4k

Note: This is part two of a collaborative project organized by @azrielshadowssing! The first chapter was written by @velidewrites and the next chapter will be written by a different author.

Part 1 | Writing Circle Masterlist

Prince.

The word bloomed in her chest as readily as the heat from his lips poised against her fingers, seeping through her silken glove to mark her skin irreparably.

Elain could see it now. The long red hair, the smirking russet eyes, the gold-embroidered finery. She had been foolish—so, so foolish—not to realize that he was a Vanserra on sight. Now she could recognize that famed, cruel beauty of the King’s youngest brother.

Lucien Vanserra.

Sinfully full lips twisted into their best impression of a smile, so clearly amused by the way she stared at him. Elain thought she was going to be sick. She turned her head towards the garden she had been escaping to when she ran into the Prince, thinking all the more that she could use the fresh air. How was it that in her attempts to flee the King, she had thrown herself to the mercy of his brother?

“Something the matter, Lady Elain?”

She snatched her hand away as though he had burned her. He very well might have, from the way her skin still tingled as if there had been no barrier between them.

“Nothing sire,” Elain breathed, gathering her skirts to sketch a curtsy. “Forgive me, your highness. I realize I have been entirely improper—”

A warm, broad hand at her arm prevented her from leaving. Lucien was frowning now. “I do hope you are not backing out of our agreement.”

“I…” She searched for the words to refute a man of his status, and could think of nothing short of incurring his brother’s name. I am already of interest to the King.

“I assure you, lady, there is no one better fitting for this arrangement than myself.” He flashed an achingly charming smile. “If I am publicly courting you, there are few men who would dare to oppose it.”

His own brother might. And Elain wondered if Lucien would truly stand in opposition to the King or if the ruse would fall apart from one private conversation between the brothers. And how precarious, that if she were to find another man to fit the arrangement, Lucien could expose her to the entire court.

What was she to do? She had mistepped in her haste, and now this handsome, powerful man held her fate in his hands.

Elain wanted to rage, wanted to peel off her shoe and see if she could throw it hard enough to wipe that obnoxious grin off of Lucien’s face. He knew he had her cornered, and part of her wanted to demand why he was entertaining this at all. He, at least, was a man. A prince. And if an unwanted match pursued him, he had the power to say no. He had the freedom to navigate society unmarried, wearing his rakish reputation like a badge of honor.

Resentment built in her chest, but she swallowed it like all proper ladies are bred to. “I am not going back on our agreement, your highness. I only seek some fresh air.”

“Let me accompany you,” he said smoothly.

Elain raised an accusational brow. “Without a chaperone?”

His laugh was a dark, sensual thing that twisted in her gut. With a wide sweeping motion, he gestured around the empty pathway. “You are unchaperoned now, lady.”

“Then I must be going,” she said, stepping out of his grasp. “Lest we be caught alone and forced into a proper marriage.”

That, at least, encouraged Lucien to release his grip on her arm, and she felt the lack of his touch like a brand. She looked to the Prince, noticing how the humor in his expression had sobered at the mention of marriage. As a member of the royal family—as the famed rake, no less—she wondered if any girls had tried to trap him through such a convention.

And, from the dark gleam in his eyes, she wondered how many he had left to ruin as consequence. Elain had the sense that if they were caught alone together, there would be no dutiful marriages. He did not intend to marry, and he was assisting in her scheme out of convenience, not compassion.

Lucien tipped his head, stepping aside from the path so she could continue to the gardens. “Enjoy your fresh air, then. I will be waiting in the ballroom to claim your first dance.” His eyes slid warily towards the gardens, which had looked lovely in the golden wash of sunset but were now becoming increasingly sinister as the shadows grew. “I encourage you not to be long.”

His boots clicked softly against the cobblestone, and the sound of music and muffled voices drifted towards her as he opened the door to slip inside. Now alone, Elain looked back towards the King’s garden. She understood why Lucien had cautioned her—Nesta had warned her enough times about the danger of a lady caught unchaperoned in dark places.

And, very briefly, she contemplated the merits of wandering into that garden and waiting for a man to happen by. Being caught with him would mean she would not have to worry about the King, or his brother, or the Archeron finances. But she would need to worry about her husband, and whether he was a kind enough man she could endure spending the rest of her life beside him.

She stayed only long enough to let the evening air cool her flushed skin, greedily swallowing it into her lungs like maybe if she took a heavy enough breath, the weight could make her feel steady again. Yet she still felt shaky as she returned to the bustling ballroom, already swept into a dance that the King watched over. She pressed to the outskirts as his eyes traced over the crowd, hoping to avoid his attention until she had someone on her arm.

“How were the gardens?”

The deep voice at her ear made her jump.

Elain whirled to find Lucien, holding a delicate glass of sparkling wine between pinched fingers. Light glinted off the crystal, sparkling like the amusement in his eyes as he extended the drink towards her.

“Beautiful,” she answered, accepting the glass with a gracious nod. “The King must take painstaking care of them.”

Lucien snorted. “I doubt Eris could name a single flower in that garden.”

“Could you?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

He looked surprised by the question—by the challenge it contained. Elain was certain that a prince’s words were hardly ever called into question, least of all by the darling debutantes of the ton. He was likely used to women batting their lashes and fawning over his every word if it meant they could coerce him into a courtship.

Yet his composure remained endlessly proud as he raised his own glass to his lips and pulled a long sip. Something he had certainly done on purpose, so she could observe the way the liquid gleamed on his lips as he asked, “What do you say to a friendly game, lady?”

“I would say that I’m not foolish enough to agree to one without knowing the rules.”

His errant smile grew. “They have taught you well, then.” An assessment he saw she was prepared to bite at, for how quickly he continued. “The rules are this: you describe the flowers you saw in the garden and for every one I correctly identify, you owe me a dance.”

Elain hesitated, studying Lucien curiously. Most men seemed clueless about such subjects, but he carried himself with an unwavering confidence that made her think twice before agreeing. “How well are princes educated in botany?”

“Dare to find out?”

That answer said enough. She knew the way gentlemen liked to bet—had witnessed her father stumble home from gambling dens in such a sour mood that he had to be avoided for days. Elain could not always tell when a man was bluffing; if she could, she would never have been fooled by Graysen. But in that moment she felt certain that Lucien could name every flower in that garden.

And maybe… maybe she wanted him to prove it.

“There was a red flower,” she said slowly, testing him. “It had thorns on its stem, and a layering of petals—”

“Rose,” he interrupted, sounding almost offended. “I’m not counting that. My three-year-old cousin would be able to identify one.”

Elain bit her lip. “There was another flower that grew from a long stem, with purple petals that drooped away from each other—almost in the shape of a star.”

He considered this for a moment. There were two types of purple flowers in the King’s garden—and if he did indeed know the flowers he kept, it would be easy to identify the difference between them.

“Irises,” he said after a moment, smiling. “Like a star.”

Despite herself, Elain’s temper flared. “Don’t mock me—”

“I’m not mocking you.” The delight in his voice made her think otherwise. “But you owe me a dance.” He extended his hand towards her. “Tell me more about the flowers while I twirl you around the room.”

Without meaning to, she glanced towards the King still perched against his throne. They were partially obscured by his vision, behind pillars and palms and the rest of the crowd. It was safe here, away from most of the prying eyes. But once they entered that dance floor… the entire ton would be talking about Lady Archeron dancing with the Prince. Elain could not decide if she was more nervous to face the King or Nesta in the aftermath.

“You do know how to dance, lady?” Lucien prompted, purposely misreading her hesitance.

Elain narrowed her eyes. “Do not worry—I’m certain I’m more proficient in dancing than you are in decorum, your highness.”

He leaned closer, until she could mark the flecks of gold swimming in his eyes beneath the gleam of candlelight. Lashes brushed against his cheek as his attention diverted to their hands. His fingers curled slowly around her own.

“That fills me with little confidence,” he murmured. “You will find I have famously poor decorum.”

He was staring at her gloved hand like he could track the warmth spreading along her skin, shuddering up her arm until her pulse was fluttering at the simple touch—or perhaps it was simply from the anxiety of subjecting herself to the scrutiny of the ton. In any case, it made her feel unsteady. And as Lucien glanced up to meet her eyes, she worried she truly would forget how to dance beneath those molten pools of russet.

He tugged lightly on her hand, which at least reminded her how to walk. One foot in front of the other, dragging her slowly back to the poisoned attention of the King and his subjects. But there was something about being by Lucien’s side that put her more at ease, encouraging her to lift her chin proudly as heads turned and jaws dropped.

Elain was certain it had something to do with the control she finally felt she had. She’d seldom tasted any freedom in her life, but she felt an ounce of it as the Prince stopped in front of her on the dance floor and bowed at the waist. Gasps echoed in the crowd behind her, and she relished at being able to manufacture this surprise. So long this society had been a controlling overseer, looming over every aspect of her life. Now, she had taken the reins back, at least temporarily.

The mischief sparkling in Lucien’s eyes was their own private secret as he swept them into the dance, playing the part of the distinguished gentleman she was discovering he absolutely was not. But he was a good dancer. Lithe and graceful. She wanted to laugh at those meticulous hours of instruction she’d received from her governess, so useless with the way he was leading her into each motion with little effort on her part.

It allowed her to focus on other things, like the weight of the warm, steady hand he had placed on her waist. His thumb rubbed taunting, indecent circles into her hip, scrambling her brain nearly as much as the feint smell of cedar that clung to his clothes. As though he’d emerged straight from the forest.

Despite the prying eyes of the ton, watching them like circling birds of prey, Elain was anchored to this small, stolen moment between the two of them. Nothing else existed aside from the music and Lucien and the way he was staring at her like she was the only one in the room.

His smile returned, but it was softer. More palatable to the public eye, she assumed.

“Tell me more about the flowers,” he said.

“I take it that means you want another dance,” she teased. “I suppose my performance wasn’t so poor after all.”

“I want the next dance,” he agreed, sounding breathless. Elain supposed he was doing most of the work, after all. “The next, and every one after.”

Laughter bubbles from her lips, unbidden in a way that caused her to think the wine was going to her head. “You can’t simply—“

“I’m the Prince,” he protested. “I can do whatever I’d like.”

“Must be nice,” she said wistfully. Yes, her tongue had certainly loosened. “I could not hope to imagine what that would feel like.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Lucien seemed to pull her closer. And she swore his fingers tightened their grip.

“Is there something you desire, lady?”

It could have been posed as a kind question, but the way he asked, the way his voice dropped low and scraped over skin, made her want to cover her face. Those amber eyes had darkened, settling overtly on her lips. “Tell me what it is, and I shall see it done.”

Her mouth felt dry. “I think you are promising more than you can provide, your Highness.”

Her words did little to mitigate the heat of his stare. He said lowly, “Do not underestimate what I can provide you, Elain.”

And the suggestion in those words—she couldn’t help the small, startled gasp that hiccuped past her lips, nor the way her face flushed. But she would blame it all on the sliver of alcohol she had consumed.

Lucien looked like he was prepared to say more, seemingly determined to scandalize her. But the fanfare of trumpets cut suddenly though the room, halting the music and the dancing bodies and whatever words were on the Prince’s lips.

The attention of the room had turned to the King, who clambered from his throne with that same careless grace that Lucien carried himself with. Elain did not know if it was a trait of Vanserras or simply of royalty, and had not encountered enough of either to decide.

Eris’s eyes swept over the crowd, grinning like he had invited them all into a lion’s den. It felt more appropriate for him to announce that he had secretly poisoned the wine than to declare the season’s diamond.

“I am appreciative of all who could make their attendance,” he said, searching over the faces in a way that felt too analytical to be sincere. Their eyes met, briefly, before his gaze fell to the hand still clasped delicately in Lucien’s. The King’s lips twitched. “Allow it to now be my honor to present to you the season’s diamond.”

Elain turned her head, easily spotting Nesta in the crowd. She was the only one who wasn’t looking at the King. She was watching Elain, blue eyes wide and burning. And when Elain glanced back to Eris, she saw that he had been assessing Nesta, too. A game. This was all such a carefully laid out game.

And Elain wanted to refuse to be a pawn, but she could do little about the way Eris returned his attention to her. And smirked.

“Lady Elain Archeron,” he called, stepping into the crowd. They scrambled immediately to part for him so that no obstacle lay in his path as he took each condemning step towards Elain. It was customary for the diamond to approach the King, and yet she was weighted to the ground, pinned beneath that predatory gleam in his eyes.

Lucien’s grip tightened in her hand. She knew that people were beginning to take notice of the fact that he hadn’t released her, especially as Eris paused in front of them.

Everyone was watching, holding their breaths as the world came to a standstill.

Snatching her hand away from Lucien’s, Elain gathered her skirts and bowed into a low curtsey. Fingers framed her chin—so much colder than Lucien’s, just like the eyes she was made to look into as Eris tilted her face towards his.

“I see you have already been acquainted with my brother, Lady Archeron.”

It seemed a challenge. One Nesta might have a fit for later as Elain answered, “I have, your majesty.”

Those calculating eyes slid to Lucien, some tense, silent communication being passed between them. “I trust his manners have been exemplary.”

She bowed her head, ignoring the way his statement was aimed primarily towards Lucien. “Exactly as one could anticipate from a member of your royal family.”

They both seemed to find that amusing.

Eris turned to face her once more, extending his hand. “Allow your King to dance with his incomparable, if only so I may demonstrate how a king compares to a prince.”

“Her dance card is full on account of a wager,” Lucien cut in before she could answer, casting an easy smile towards Elain. “You wouldn’t make a darling debutante go back on her word, would you brother?”

Brother, he said. Not King, not Your Majesty.

“Of course,” Eris said, tone and expression unbothered. But there was an edge to his voice as he said, “I respect a lady’s word above all else, though I caution her to be more careful with it in the future. Gambling is a dangerous affair, afterall.”

So too, she expected, was being involved with the royal family to this degree.

Eris’s eyes turned towards the still-listening crowd, grinning. “Perhaps your sister can accept a dance in your place, then.”

“I’m sure she would be honored,” Elain said quickly, trying her best to hide her shock.

She kept her eyes on the King, certain if she turned her head she would see Nesta’s furious expression. Eris, at least, looked pleased as he nodded his ascent for Lucien to take her hand. Lucien obeyed, pulling Elain back to the dance floor in a way that encouraged the rest of the ton to begin moving. She saw the way the King approached Nesta, ever-curious to the exchange of words that led to her sister begrudgingly accepting the King’s hand.

“Eris loves to play games,” Lucien said at her ear, pulling her back into the dance. “I advise you not to get dragged into one.”

Elain was finding she was tired of being cautioned. For the moment, she preferred to think of other things—like the way Lucien’s hand fit perfectly against the curve of her back.

“You lied,” she whispered to him, looking up at those scarlet lashes, so long they brushed over his golden brown cheekbones. “You said you had filled my dance card with our wager, but you have not won another dance.”

That encouraged a sinful smile. “Perhaps I like to play games, too.”

Dearest Gentle Readers,

There will forever be just two words that come to this author’s mind the morning after any good party: “shock” and “delight”.

Well, dear reader, the scandalous accounts from last night’s soiree at the Grand Orangerie are quite shocking and delightful indeed.

Emerging phoenix-like from the ashes of her sister’s unfulfilled potential is one Lady Elain Archeron. The illustrious debutante was seen grappling with the attentions of not one, but two members of the Royal Family. Choosing between a Prince and a King is a dilemma most mamas would spend very little time considering—for who wouldn’t want to see their daughter become a Queen? Perhaps it is her lack of motherly guidance that led Lady Elain to turn down the King so she could dance exclusively with the rakish Prince Lucien.

Although this author is left to wonder if this was a strategic decision orchestrated by our former incomparable Lady Nesta. It appears that an old diamond does not lose its luster, for the eldest Archeron was spotted dancing with the King in the wake of Lady Elain’s dismissal.

The Archeron sisters’ ability to advance from insignificance to potential royal consorts is something that even this jaded author must applaud. It seems the ton will need to keep a careful eye on this pair of sisters and the royal brothers they are pursuing.

Trust that if anything can be revealed about the circumstances of these matches, it is I who will uncover it.

Yours truly,

Lady Suriel

Tagging: @azrielshadowssing @headcanonheadcase @the-lonelybarricade @crazy-cool-girl-blog @violet-shadows @thehaemanthus @shadowsingerofnight @ofduskanddreams @hlizr50 @vikingmagic33

#acotarwritingcircle #elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #Sorry I'm genuinely publishing this and vanishing #Your girl is so busy this weekend she had to wake up at 6am to write this #I'm sorry if it's trash

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