#Fitznox

[badgerrick]

Chris Avantgarde - Inside (ft. Red Rosamond)

[alphawave-writes]

Clapback

Fuse/Caustic (GasGrenade? Fitznox? Dunno, I’ll use them both) SFW fanfic

Read it here or find on AO3 via this link.

Synopsis: Caustic decides to confront Fuse on a certain incident that occurred live on intergalactic waves involving Fuse's hand and his posterior.

—

Caustic is certainly not the guy to get his ass slapped. Caustic is certainly not the type of person to let people close enough to even slap his ass in the first place, but the games forces him to take a closer proximity to people. Relationships are confusing, messy diagrams of webs and chains and links, just as human bodies are, and it reminds Caustic why he never went into Genetics. Or, for that matter, why there are few who would dare approach him.

But Fuse is a special type of individual with all of the worst traits of the dumbest legends. He has the loud mouth of Mirage, the act-first-think-later attitude of Octane, and—on the rare occasion he gets serious—the wry snark of that pestiferous Crypto. It's no secret that Salvo is full of savages, which makes him a surprisingly capable teammate, so of course the producers of the Apex Games decide that for his very first game, he should be in a team with Caustic and Bloodhound. Of course he talks a big talk, but otherwise he has shown himself to be a capable individual on the battlefield. Unlike Crypto or Natalie or the countless other scientists he knew in the past, Caustic doesn't expect Fuse to be the kind to stab him in the back.

And then Fuse slaps Caustic's ass. Live. For all to see.

And with that, his carefully tailored public reputation, the persona of Caustic, it has all crumbled down to a few key words. Caustic: the man who's ass got slapped on intergalactic waves, and appeared to like it.

"Mate, it's just a cheeky thing the mates do to each other on Salvo. You're telling me you guys don't slap each other's ass after a game of footy or somethin'?"

"This is not Salvo," Caustic reminds Fuse for what must be the hundredth time. Internally, he has to remember to check up what 'footy' is. Probably Salvonian slang for something gruesome.

"Yeah, nah, I get that, doc, you don't have to remind me," Fuse sighs. "Look, even I admit I was tryna rile up the crowd, but I didn't mean to get you stuck in all this sh—mess." 

At least the man has some common sense not to use such vulgar language around him. Quite frankly he finds such crude words indicative of low intelligence. "It does not matter what the crowd thinks," Caustic says, even though he knows that's a bit of a lie. "What matters is that you have put me in an uncompromising position."

"Well, I haven't got you to an uncompromising position yet," Fuse smirks.

Caustic glares at him. "I expect you to rectify this immediately."

"OK, OK, sheesh. Look, I'll let ya in on somethin', if you wanna let the whole thing slip away, you just gotta let it die first. Fighting fire with fire may work on the field, but it ain't gonna stop people from coming up with ideas. Trust me, the amount of people who thought I was shacking up with Mags—er, Maggie—of all people…" Fuse shivers. When Caustic doesn't look convinced, he adds, "I've got an interview coming up tomorrow. If it pops up, I'll just say it's a Salvo thing. If it doesn't, I ain't gonna say squat."

Caustic doesn't know if Fuse is more wily than he gives himself credit for, or if he is just as idiotically open as Caustic assumes him to be, but his first instinct is to trust Fuse will keep his word. It's a strange instinct for Caustic to have.

"Fine. But I expect you to not mock me anymore in the future."

"No prob, doc. Although if you don't mind an old fella saying something?"

Caustic just knows he's going to regret this.

"You do got a nice ass. Real girth to that thing," Fuse wolf whistles appreciatively as he not so surreptitiously glances at Caustic's behind. "Ditch the apron, and I bet that beauty could be an ordnance on its own."

"Fuse," Caustic growls.

"That's the name, don't wear it out," Fuse smirks.

With a surprising amount of speed, Caustic takes Fuse into a hold and shoved him to the wall. His voice is low, his hold absolute. Months  and years in the Apex games have taught him many, many ways to kill and just as many to subdue.

"Oy, easy on the vest."

"What's your game?" Caustic hisses.

"Nngh. Let go of me!"

"Or what?"

Fuse tries to turn his head, his laidback expression transformed into something darker. Caustic does not disbelieve Fuse's claims of being a mercenary on the last, but he found his boast of being one of Salvo's best a stretch. But he's

"You wanna try me, Doc Nox?" Fuse grunts.

"How did you…?"

That second of surprise is all it takes for Fuse to slip out of Caustic's grasp and reverse the situation, pushing Caustic into the wall. It is now that Caustic sees he has miscalculated. He was too tight, put too much strength and effort to shove Fuse into the wall. The correct grip is a little bit lower, utilising not just hands but knees. Fuse's hold might seem more laidback compared to Caustic's attempt, but there is no doubt that Fuse has done this plenty more times before in the past. Despite his bigger size, Caustic doesn't imagine he will slip out quite so easily unless Fuse allows him to.

So there are hidden depths to this man after all. A fascinating test subject for the future, to be sure.

"Don't think I didn't do my research before comin' here. I gave it all up to be here, and I don't go all in without knowing the stakes. Had a client of mine try ask me to track you down. Said that ain't my style, but I remembered. And when you stay a merc at my age," he taps his skull with his metal hand, "you tend to remember things."

Caustic grunts. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"We all know being in the Apex games protects you, and you know what? It's the same for me, mate. You play up the cameras, kill and get killed over and over again for entertainment, and if they like you, you get to live another day. And I also know once people know who the mysterious doc Caustic is, they ain't gonna risk letting you kick about and murk up the Apex bloody games."

"Then blackmail me. Kill me," Caustic hisses.

"Believe me, if I were hired to, I will. But since I'm not…" Fuse lets go of Caustic. He takes a step back, his light fingers drifting away from Caustic’s clothed limbs. The move is casual but done deliberately. A lot of what Fuse does and says, Caustic realises, is deliberate. Whether it's the result he wants is a secondary concern.

Caustic turns to Fuse and stares. "I do not know if you're idiotic or moronic to let me go without some form of payment."

Fuse sighs. "Doc, this ain't the games and this ain't Salvo. You said that, right? Ain't gonna spill your secret because I feel petty or nothing. We both want to be here, and we'll do our bloody hardest to stay here. You wanna take it out on me, take it out on the ring." His lips curl into a smirk. "I'm also more than happy to take it out in the bedroom, if that's your thing."

Caustic bristles. He's no imbecile, he knows when he is being propositioned, but he is not playing that game. Not with a man he barely knows. "You still want something from me. Tell me now."

"Well, if you really want to buy my silence," Fuse allows a small smile, "how about a drink sometime? You, me, couple bottles of beer, bit of classical music. Get to know each other better."

There is a lot to decipher with that sentence. A lot. But of all the the things Caustic can possibly address, "Classical music?"

"You know, Acca Dacca, INXS, Tame Impala. The real classics, not like that stuffy ones, ey?"

Caustic stifles a groan. "When you say classical music, I was expecting Mozart. Beethoven."

"Would you accept if I did that kinda classical music?" Fuse crosses his arms and leans just a bit too close to Caustic. 

"Typical Salvonian," Caustic mutters under his breath. Always so forward. Always think they can take whatever they want.  

"Ain't an answer, mate," Fuse says.

It's data. Possibly useful data from a new test subject. That's what he's going to tell himself. "One drink, at a venue of my choice. I can and will leave at any time I choose." 

"Deal. Tomorrow at 8 alright?"

"Fine."

"Cool. Then I'll see ya later, darl." Before Caustic can react, Fuse gives another firm slap to Caustic's ass and quickly walks away without another word, disappearing down the hallway.

As Caustic watches Fuse walk away, hand on his ass and equations ringing through his head, he begins to suspect that he might have bit off more than he can chew. He takes out his notepad, which he uses to write notes on the go, and flips over to the latest page.

8pm 12th February. Meet up with subject Walter 'Fuse' Fitzroy for alcoholic beverages and music. Objective: obtain data on subject. Ascertain weaknesses and strengths. Assess whether to team up with for future battles.

Note to self: bring padded pants and lotion.

[bastardsonofday]

War

sequel to It Starts with a Bike Lock because I need to be stopped i guess

ao3

unbetaed

It's been a week. A week of forgetful Rhysand jokes from his family. A week of tabloids hounding him for a response. A week.

And for a week, nothing from Lucien Vanserra, until today. Because today Lucien Vanserra is back in negotiations with Mor.

And unfortunately for Rhysand, his month of 'Go Green!' Is still in effect.

Rhysand thinks it'll be a nice idea to go out for lunch. Grab food at the deli he likes to much, eat in the park, bike around a little. Nothing too inflamatory he likes to think. Nothing too inflamatory at all.

But this is Rhysand Fitznox, and sometimes hr just can't help inflaming.

And, to be quite frank, this situation is entirely Lucien Vanserra's fault, not Rhysand's at all. Because, when Rhysand walks downstairs to the bike rack which he's used for its proper purpose he notices something. The metal Cauldron combination lock which is looped through his bike's front tire and another. Another which looks distinctly familiar.

Rhysand turns on his heel and strides back into the building. He beelines for the elevator, ignoring the confused looks from his secretaries, and heads for the conference room.

To be fair, he isn't even remotely elegant or suave when he bursts in. Mor and the bastard Tamlin both look at him puzzledly, but he can see the smirk that flickers onto Lucien's lips.

"You ass!" Rhys snarls. "Oh you think you're sooooo funny, don't you?"

Lucien raised an eyebrow and points to himself innocently. Today his hair is braided around his head into a crown and he wears a chic floral-print suit to go with it. "Moi?"

Rhys narrows his eyes at the man and calms himself. He stands up and straightens his suit lapels. "Fine." He says simply. If Lucien wanted to play it that way, that's the game they would play.

Rhys strode downstairs and waited at the reception desk for Nuala to finish her call. She put down the reciever and glanced up at him. "Yes, sir?"

"Nuala, get me a blanket and a tea set. Send it out to me."

To her credit, Nuala didn't bat an eye. "Yes, sir."

Lucien doesn't really know what to expect when he and Tamlin walk outside the Night offices. Tamlin is extremely confused by what happened during the meeting and unfortunately, Lucien can't really say he had nothing to do with it. So, Lucien shortly explained what exactly he'd done and Tamlin laughed so hard he almost peed himself and gave Lucien the rest of the afternoon off.

They come to be outside the building and Tamlin bursts out laughing and crosses the sidewalk, leaving Lucien to deal with Rhysand. He waves to Lucien and gets into his car, and speeds off.

Lucien crosses his arms over his chest and glances down at Rhys.

Rhys lifts his china teacup to Lucien in a salute. "Care to join me?" He asks.

Rhys is seated on a fuzzy blanket, a tea set set out in front of him right where Lucien had been not two weeks beforehand. He sips his tea from his cup, pinky raised while he paws through a stack of magazines seated next to him.

Lucien bites his lower lip to hold back the laughter.

"It's quite comfortable, I know you were out here all alone last time and everything but, see, I like to drink tea with company."

"I'd love to, but I actually have a meeting to get to, we'll have to postpone."

"I see." Rhys says. He closes his magazine and leans back against a telephone pole behind him. He waves to the bikes. "Disappointing, but I'll hold you to that."

Lucien smirks, shaking his head. "See, I would but..." Lucien shrugs. He turns next to the bikes and leans down--to another bike.

Rhys' eyes narrow.

"-I have a ride out of here."

Lucien pulls a key out from his pocket, unlocks the another bike on the rack, salutes Rhys and speeds away.

"Okay, Lucien Vanserra," Rhys says as he watches the other man go, "so that's how it's going to be, then that's how it's going to be."

"Hey, Lucien." Alis hums as Lucien walks into Spring & Co with coffees. "How was your afternoon off?"

"Just what I needed, thank you Alis." He passes her usual to her and sips his own.

"You've seen the tabloids, I assume?"

"In fact, I've been blissfully ignoring them. Why?"

Alis slides one his way.

"THIS MEANS WAR!" LUCIEN VANSERRA BETTER WATCH OUT, RHYSAND TELLS ALL.

"Fine," Lucien says, he honestly doesn't know what he expected, "if he wants war, it's war he'll get." And Lucien Vanserra goes to his office to plan.

[ao3feed-acotar]

You Are My Lucky Star

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2tPwZMh

by BastardSonOfDay (Diana_Raven)

Singin' In the Rain AU

Rhysand is living it up in an age of silent films, but when the first Talkie is made the game changes. As Rhysand deals with his crush on an up-and-coming actor and the sudden change to working in Talkies, he has to also use his wit and creativity to save his job and Prythian Studios from possibly their biggest flop ever--Fitznox and Scarlett's latest film.

Words: 2312, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Lucien Vanserra, Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR), Tamlin (ACoTaR), Rhysand (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron, Amarantha (ACoTaR)

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand

Additional Tags: there are other people too but I don't think i'll tag em cuz they arent main characters

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2tPwZMh

[bastardsonofday]

It Starts with a Bike Lock

written to blow off steam

i felt bad theres no content im producing so have this *shrug emoji*

You accidently locked your bike to mine and i cant leave until you get off work au

ao3    chapter two

The first words Lucien Vanserra ever says to Rhysand Fitznox are “Hey Asshole!”

Rhysand knows Lucien Vanserra, the other man is a lackey of his worst enemy (though the two have never spoke before, only glared across the room at one another while Tamlin ranted), but he doesn’t know what in specific he’s done to incur Vanserra’s wrath. The man is sitting on the ground though his meeting with Rhysand’s Second ended quite a while ago (Rhysand is sure). He glares up at Rhys, his red hair braided professionally in dutch pigtails (Rhys almost giggles at the sight, he looks so… hot, but odd if he has to be honest). Lucien’s prosthetic eye doesn’t swivel up to meet his, instead staring blankly ahead. His legs are pulled up to his butt to let people pass on the sidewalk, and there is a small pile of coins next to him as if someone tossed him them because they thought he was homeless—which Rhys is pretty sure he’s not.

“Pardon?” Rhys says slowly.

“What have you never used a fucking lock before? Do you know how long I had to wait here, you ass? Tamlin’s already back at headquarters and I here I am waiting for you, you fucking moron-”

“I’m sorry, why are you insulting me?”

Lucien stares at him like he’s crazy. He points to the rack of bikes next to him. One of which is Rhysand’s. Normally Rhys doesn’t even own a bike but Elain made him start this ‘Go Green!’ initiative so to be a good leader he bought a bike and promised to bike to work every day for a month, which isn’t that hard since he lives in a penthouse about a mile from his company.

Today is the third day of Rhys’ promise. It is also the third day he’s ever used a bike lock.

“You locked my bike to yours, dumbass.” Lucien snarls. “I had to wait for you to get off for lunch because your secretary wouldn’t let me back up to make you unlock it yourself. And I can’t cut it open without a power tool because it’s metal.”

Fuck.

“Well? Aren’t you going to at least apologize?” Lucien asks. He stands and even stomps his foot on the ground, which almost breaks Rhysand.

Rhysand swallows his laughter at the absurd situation. To laugh at Lucien would only make him angrier, and while Lucien is certainly cute while he was angry and fun to play with, Rhys senses now was not the time.

“Jeez, dude.” Rhys says instead, unable to curb all of his laughter. “How long have you been sitting out here?”

“Open. Your. Lock.” Lucien snarls.

Rhys bends down to unlock the bike. “You know, I’m impressed that you biked here. I assumed you’d take Tamlin’s car.”

“I assumed you took a limo to work, we’re all wrong sometimes.” Lucien says without any cheer in his voice.

Rhys fiddles with the combination lock… what had he set it to, again? “‘Go Green!’ month. You?”

“I always bike if the meeting is under fifteen miles.”

Rhys’ eyes widened and whistled appreciatively. “Fifteen miles? And you always show up looking that good?”

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as me. I’m sure if you tried to bike somewhere, you’d end up looking like a drowned rat.”

“Hey! I bike to and from my home!”

“And how far away is your home from here?”

Rhys turns around smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lucien rolls his eyes. “Are you done yet?”

“Ahh...” Rhys had been having so much fun sniping with Lucien he… may have… forgotten his seven digit code. “About that...”

Lucien’s eyes widen. “No. No no no no no! You have got to be fucking with me.”

Rhys laughs guiltily. “Believe me, that would be so much more fun than this.”

“Well? Who else knows the code, you utter dipshit?” Lucien snarls.

“Uhhh-” Rhysand’s mind was mysteriously blank.

“You jackass.”

“It’s not like I did this on purpose!”

“I don’t really care about anything you have to say right now unless it’s the code to that lock!”

Rhys sighs and looks at his watch. As much fun as it is to play with Lucien, he has a meeting with Thesan in five minutes in a place that can only be reached that quickly in a car at this moment.

“Look, I have to go to lunch. Why don’t you come with me and afterwards I’ll-?”

“You really think that now is the best time to ask me to lunch?” Lucien snapped.

“I have a meeting.” Rhys explains impatiently. “Come with me and if I remember the code, when it’s over and we come back I’ll give it to you.”

“No. You can go to your fun little meeting after we deal with this. I will go down with you right now, to the maintenance department and get a power-saw or something of some kind and we will come back and cut through that lock.”

“You can’t do that!”

Lucien crosses his arms, glaring. “Go ahead. Do it. Tell me why not.”

“It’s an expensive lock!”

“An. Expensive. Lock.”

“Yeah! It was like a whole, eighty seven dollars!”

“Eight seven dollars? If you paid eighty-seven dollars for that crap, then you’ve got bigger problems than me, Rhys.”

“It was for charity.” Rhys snaps.

“Besides, that’s petty change for you.”

“It’s the principle!”

“Rhys, we are going down to maintenance, together, right now. And you will ask for the power-tool yourself. Then you will cut off the lock, or I will go to every tabloid with a following and give them a special exclusive about the time that Rhysand Fitznox invited me to lunch after locking my bike with his.”

Rhys narrows his eyes. “So?”

“There will be many other details in this story, ones that may not have actually happened. Who’s to say?”

As much as Rhys wasn’t afraid of Lucien Vanserra… he was, well, a tiny bit afraid of Lucien Vanserra (the man had brought down entire companies with five well placed words to the press), he doesn’t want to make an enemy of him.

“You suck.” Rhys mumbles.

“Don’t you wish.” Lucien replies, and waves a hand for Rhys to lead the way.

Rhys grumbles, but does.

Lucien follows Rhys into his building. Rhys walks up to the front desk where Cerridwen and Nuala sit expertly answering phones. Nuala puts the person she’s talking to on hold and looks up expectantly at her boss. “Yes, Sir?”

“Um...” Now this is embarrassing, Rhysand thinks. He glances at Lucien whose stormy gaze tells him to turn around and start talking. “So… I may have accidentally chained my bike to Lucien’s here...”

Nuala’s face stays completely the same, though Rhysand knows she’s laughing on the inside. Cerridwen stops in her work to listen in, amused by the story already. “And… I forgot the passcode...”

“Do you want me to open it, sir?”

Rhys looks at her surprised. “You know my passcode?”

“You know his passcode and you didn’t tell me?” Lucien cries. “I’ve been sitting there for ages! You knew I was sitting there for ages!”

“I don’t know it, but Mr. Fitznox-Ah, your brother, sir, does.”

Rhys slams the heel of his palm into his forehead. “Az! Of course he does!”

Lucien is turning a delightful shade of purple, and Rhys wonders if this is the first time he’ll actually be able to see smoke come out of someone’s ears for real, just like they do in the cartoons.

Lucien is not very amused by the expression on Rhys’ face right now.

“Rhys, I’ll have your head on a platter. Then, I’m coming for you because you’ve been no help,” He says pointing a long delicate finger at Nuala, “and you’ll get your own for laughing at this,” he says as that finger finds it’s way to point at Cerridwen who is badly hiding her snickers into the telephone in her hand. “And finally, I’ll get Azriel Fitznox, just for the fun of it.”

Lucien snatches the phone and receiver from Nuala’s hand and speed-dials Azriel (whose speed-dial button has a label on it). He explains in clipped sentences the situation to Azriel and Rhys puts in his own two cents by graciously ‘ordering’ (he can’t really order his brothers to do anything for him if he’s being honest) Az to come down to the ground floor immediately and fix this.  

When Azriel Fitznox gets the very angry call from the secretary desk with Lucien Vanserra on the other side of the line he thinks he’s having some weird fever dream or nightmare. But no, Lucien Vanserra, the CFO of Spring Court & Co really is on his phone angrily yelling about… a bike lock? And Rhysand having the memory of an eighty year old Alzheimer's patient or something…? Azriel isn’t exactly sure.

But he is trying very hard not to laugh.

Lucien seems very serious though and when Rhys puts in “Yeah… you’d better get down here now with my code,” Azriel sighs and tells his brother that he’ll be right down.

He walks down to the ground floor and finds Lucien tapping his foot angrily and Rhys standing next to him very sheepishly. “What did you do?” Azriel asks Rhys mockingly. Rhys flashes him a smirk but Lucien is not amused.

“Do you have the password or not?” Lucien snaps.

Azriel nods and he walks past Lucien, glad the CFO can’t see how he can’t hold it together. Azriel walks out to the bike rack and bends down next to his brother’s bike. He moves the nine digit tumblers into place. “It’s the date and time you beat Spring Co out for the Summer contracts, don’t you remember that?” Az asks his brother.

Rhys face-palms. “Of course! How could I forget?”

This does not make Lucien any happier apparently. Azriel unravels the lock from around Lucien’s bike and he grabs it from the rack, shaking it roughly. “I hate you people and I am bringing all of you down with me.” He snarls at them. He swings one leg over the bike and speeds into the street and off to Spring Court & Co buildings.

“Nice doing business with you!” Rhys calls after his red-headed rival. Then, Azriel and Rhysand exchange glances at one another and promptly burst into the laughter that they’ve been holding in during this whole ordeal.

Rhysand walks into his meeting room to find his closest confidants hysterically rolling about. “Oh?” Rhys asks, an eyebrow raised. “What’s so funny?”

Cassian points to the tabloids fanned out on the table. Rhys pulled the magazines over to him, reading the headlines, beginning to laugh himself until he found himself crying.

CFO LUCIEN VANSERRA OPENS UP ON THE INNER WORKINGS OF NIGHT COURT INCORPORATED; “RHYSAND IS PETTY AND CAN’T REMEMBER FOR SHIT AND I’VE GOT THE STORY TO PROVE IT.”

[bastardsonofday]

You Are My Lucky Star

Chapter One: Riches All Around, Stars are on the Ground. 

Me writing something that’s not gen?????? Hey I can do that too. 

Feysand. Singin’ In the Rain AU. ‘Nuff said.

ao3      masterpost      ko-fi me?

Rhysand was having a good day.

He’d woken up at noon after a late night supervising the final editing of the film. He’d eaten a brunch with Cassian and Azriel like normal, a nice filling meal since their dinner would be at the studio, and those things were never filling. Afterwards he’d taken Azriel and Cassian to rent their suits and for all of them to get their hair done. When they were done it was back to Rhysand’s to change and then to Prythian Pictures to meet the others for the limo.

Rhysand was having a good day, then he remembered he needed to go to the premiere of his newest movie with his costar. Then his day became… decidedly less good.

Amarantha looked like she always did. Poised, and like she would rather eat belladonna than have her arm wrapped around Rhysand’s. Rhysand couldn’t disagree.  

Before Rhysand and Amarantha could say a word to one another, they were rushed into their limo, Cassian and Azriel barely making it in before the doors were forcefully shut and the limo was off to the premiere.

“Remember,” Tamlin Rose reminded the boys, “in and out, one or two questions. Anything bad and we’ll handle it.” He said, nodding to Lucien who was smoothing out Tamlin’s tie.

Tamlin Rose was the head of Prythian Pictures, and the face of the company while Lucien Vanserra was his right hand. Lucien was the one that Rhysand dealt with more, as he actually had a job besides being pretty (which he hadn’t really been since he had returned from the War).

“Azriel, you have the score for the orchestra?” Lucien asked.

Azriel nodded, and patted his chest pocket. “Good. We can’t have any incidents like last time.” Lucien snapped, leveling his good eye at Cassian who was twiddling with his boutonniere.

“That was one time!” Cassian defended.

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

Cassian sighed. “I’ll stay away from the sheet music and all forms of tobacco, but I do think you’re overreacting.” Cassian grumbled.

“I don’t. And it’s what I think that matters.” Lucien said.

Amarantha snorted, and looked out of the shaded windows. She crossed one leg over the other, her white dress exposing a gracious amount of thigh.

Lucien rolled his eye, and opened a compartment beneath his and Tamlin’s seats. “Liquid courage anyone?” He asked, pulling out a handful of glasses and a bottle of champagne.

Each of the occupants of in the car took a filled glass. “To Prythian Pictures, and the actors which make us so much money.” Tamlin toasted.

“To my gorgeous partner and her ability to swoon on cue.” Rhysand said.

“To the populace, who watch every film we make.” Lucien added.

Cassian grinned. “To Rhysand Fitznox and Amarantha Scarlett, the sweetheart stars of the silver screen, who keep bringing them back to the theaters.”

“Amen.” Azriel agreed. They clinked their glasses and each took at least a small sip (Lucien and Rhysand had only the smallest of sips, while Tamlin and Cassian both chugged their glasses in one gulp).

The separation between the driver and the limo-occupants rolled down as the driver said: “We have arrived, sirs and lady.”

And the limo began to roll into the chaos of screaming fans.

Clare Beddor stood on the red carpet that led into the premiere theater. The crowds of screaming fans around her pulsed with energy. Clare was excited herself, it was the first time she’d ever covered the red carpet on premiere night.

“And our stars are pulling up!” Clare chipped into the microphone as a limo rolled to the curb. “In our first car of the night we have the beautiful and glamorous Morrigan! Her name needing no other distinction! Mor, darling, what do you have to say to the cameras about the films that will be shown here tonight?”

The Morrigan looked gorgeous as ever, women and men and everything in between stumbled over themselves to push past the police holding the fans at bay, just trying to get a glimpse of her.

Morrigan flipped her blonde hair gaily. “Oh, just that I’m proud of my dear cousin and his… crew. I just know it’ll be amazing!”

“Thank you!” Clare called to her as she walked past and into the theater. Clare greeted and interviewed more and more stars until, at last, she got to meet the ones the whole fuss was always for.

Rhysand Fitznox’s car pulled up.

“And here they come now! The lovers of the silver screen! Rhysand Fitznox and Amarantha Scarlett!”

The posse looked beautiful as usual. Rhysand in a striking midnight blue suit, and Amarantha in a fashionable white number, with her furs wrapped around her. “And look! They’ve brought with them Rhysand’s dear brothers and coworkers, Azriel and Cassian Fitznox. And who’s that behind them? Why, it’s the famously fabulous Tamlin Rose! Producer and CEO of Prythian Pictures, and his partner Lucien Vanserra!” Clare rushed up to them, shoved her camera in Rhysand and Amarantha’s faces. “Tell me, what do you wish your fans to know before your latest movie! I hear it gets quite raunchy between the two of you~ Can there be a possibility of wedding bells in your futures?” She teased.

Amarantha opened her mouth to speak but Rhysand cut her off. “Well, Clare, as you know Amarantha and I have quite the chemistry on set, but as for wedding bells, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we, love?” He asked Amarantha. She opened her mouth to respond and he cut her off again. “As for our fans, all we have to say, is that we love them! We do this for them and they are just as wonderful and beautiful as ever!” Rhysand smiled winningly into the cameras and Amarantha did the same, tightening her grip on Rhysand’s arm.

“Well, I guess you two had better be moving along~” Clare hummed. She then let them pass and bombarded Tamlin with the rest of her questions, he grinned for the camera perfectly. Neither of them noticed Lucien joining Azriel and Cassian on their unencumbered way into the theater.

Once they reached the backstage area from where they would introduce the film and then afterwards give a few speeches, Amarantha exploded in anger, shoving Lucien. Cassian dove to hold her back.

“What was that all about?” She screeched. “I thought we’d agreed that I would get to speak this time!” She shrill voice scratching against their ears.

“I thought we’d agreed,” Lucien began through gritted teeth as Cassian managed to hold her back, “that it wasn’t the right time.”

“Wasn’t the right time? Wasn’t the right time? I have been the star of ninety-nine films with this company and not once have I been allowed to answer a question on the carpet!”

“Amarantha, dear,” Lucien spit, “you know as well as I, that Rhysand just does better with the reporters than you. Remember when you made one cry through a letter correspondence? It’s just better for the company, darling.”

“Well, you-you can write me a speech! I’ll memorize it!”

Cassian snickered, he knew as well as the other men in the room that her small temper, while yes an issue, was much less of one than the real problem with her speech. She whipped around, glaring daggers at him.

“What? Think I can’t do it? You think I’m dumb or somethin’?”

Azriel kicked Cassian in the shin. “Of course he doesn’t think you’re dumb, it’s just… what if they ask a question you haven’t memorized an answer to? Or you have to lie, like tonight? Rhysand is much better at that. Your flaw is that you’re so… honest.” He said hastily.

Amarantha harrumphed. “I guess you’re right...” She said. “Fine. Rhysand can make the speech tonight.”

Lucien sighed and rubbed his temples anxiously. “I’ll be right back, I have to check on the projector… Az, watch them, will you?” He asked.

Azriel nodded solemnly.

Lucien just hoped Amarantha wouldn’t pull any of this shit at the party later. Tonight was going to be a bumpy ride.

Feyre Archeron was having a good day until Rhysand Fitznox jumped screaming into her car and yelled at her to drive.

Feyre had had a nice day. It had started with her job at the coffee shop, of which she’d had a nice shift where not one asshole pinched her ass. Then she’d gotten word back from Prythian Pictures from her audition and she’d gotten the part! Which was where she was on her way to when the most famous actor from the silver screen, one of the two most gorgeous couple in Hollywood, Rhysand Fitznox.

“Drive!” He shouted. His tuxedo was almost ripped from his body, his sleeves were gone and his shirt was shredded. One of his pant legs were almost torn off and his tie was ripped in half.

Feyre did the first thing to come to mind—she screamed.

“Oh no! Please don’t scream!” He begged. “I won’t hurt you! Promise!”

Well now she was worried. He looked like he’d just been mauled! “Get-get out! What are you doing in my car? Why, I should report you to the police! Help! Police! Hel-”

He slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you! Please stop screaming! I already have a huge headache.”

Feyre did the mature thing and licked his hand. Rhysand recoiled, “Ew!”

“Why are you in my car?”

“Listen, my name is Rhysand Fitznox, and I was just mobbed. Could would you mind dropping me off at-?”

“Mobbed?”

“Duh,”

Duh, she thought, did he just say ‘duh’ to me?

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I mean, you’re very kind for not calling the police. It’s just being mobbed by fans is not uncommon for me. It’s just awful, the way some fans are just obsessed. I mean, I appreciate when they got to see every film but the posters that Amarantha and I must pose for, and the featurettes, and the mobs outside the premieres… you know...”

Feyre tried to keep her attention to the road. She had to admit she was offended! She would have been one of the fans at that premiere if she hadn’t had the job at Prythian Pictures! Rhysand Fitznox was in her car complaining about fans, people just like her! People who adored him and Amarantha and always wanted the two of them to be happy! She couldn’t believe those lovely people she had met back at the premieres would act so horribly to the love of the silver screen!

Well, fine. If Rhysand didn’t want to talk to his fans, then he wouldn’t.

“You have fans?” Feyre asked, eyebrow raised. “What for?”

Rhysand looked taken aback. Good.

“I’m-I’m an actor. I was at a premiere tonight.”

“An actor? Why, what in?”

“What in-? Have you been living under a rock for the last few days?”

“Well, that’s very rude. I haven’t been living under a rock. I just don’t have time to spend at the movies.”

“Don’t have time to spend- What do you do then?”

“Oh… you know, go to the theater...” Feyre said. Technically she wasn’t lying. She did spend a lot of time at the theater, when, you know, she wasn’t at the movies.

“Go to the theater…?”

“Yes, you know. Real acting. Real audiences. Real talent.”

“Real talent?” Rhysand cried.

Feyre knew she’d gone too far, but she’d panicked and said the first thing she could. She had to stick to it now… her pride was at stake.

“Oh, and what pretentious profession are you that you can look down on me, a lowly picture star?”

Feyre sniffed. “I’m an actress.”

“An actress?” He said with a laugh.

“Yes, and if you’re going to make fun of me you can get out of my car!” Feyre snapped. She pulled over to the side of the road.

“Fine! I don’t want your help anyway!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

And Feyre drove off.  She could hear him cursing all the way down the road.

She wasn’t far now from Prythian Pictures so she hurried along. She pulled up to the guard checkpoint and asked for directions to the party. He sent her on her way.

The dressing room was in the back of the building where the faculty workers (such as janitors and secretaries) parked. She walked through and a distracted women yelled at her to state her part.

“I’m the cake girl.”

“Ah, wonderful! I thought you’d never get here! Alis! Alis! Get over here and give the cake girl her costume!”

Feyre was shoved around. She was ordered into a costume, and thrown into a makeup chair where she was slapped with a layer of foundation, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. Finally she was allowed her last bathroom break and she climbed into the cake and was sealed up inside. Darkness enclosed around her.

She waited until Tamlin Rose spoke the words of congratulations. The cake was deceptively thin, so she could hear her cue. “-And,” he continued, “in honor of the great work all of you do for us, on the eve of one of the best premieres in our history, we thank you all. And we give you all this wonderful party! Congratulations all. Now let’s cut open this cake!”

The knife pressed into the fake cake and Feyre burst from the cake, striking her rehearsed pose. She gasped in mortification when she saw who held the knife.

And there, standing right in front of her, was Rhysand Fitznox, jaw agape, and eyes wide and shining with delight. He was in a new suit, his hair fixed. And he was staring right at her.  

The music began to play. No time to worry about it now. She had a show to do.

“So, the theater, huh?” He said, and began to laugh.

[bastardsonofday]

You Are My Lucky Star

Chapter Four: Starstruck

Reminder that today is the last day to submit an angsty prompt for the last in the bingo series (27th is the deadline)

ao3    other chapters     ko-fi     commissions

For their next date, Rhysand had to admit, while he planned most of it, he owed a major portion to his family. They were the ones who convinced Lucien to leave the studio open after dark and let them run around to prepare.

Then, when eight o’clock came and Feyre arrived in her car uncertainly at Prythian Productions (as requested), Rhysand had rushed everyone out and thanked them for their help. Cassian made a rude gesture that Azriel made him apologize for. Mor winked at him and said something about as scandalous as Cass had gestured and Azriel bloomed red and told her to apologize as well. Rhys had laughed though, and gave them kisses in thanks before shutting the back door to the studio and locking it for privacy.

He met Feyre at the gates and blindfolded her, giving his hands to her to guide her. She followed, giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation (especially after Rhysand tripped and pulled her down accidentally). Finally, he led her into the studio.

He set her in the perfect spot, then ran off to the effects booths.

“You can take off your blindfold now!” He called.

Feyre took it off and twisted it in her hands nervously. “Rhys?” She called. “Where are you?” The stage she was on was dark, and she couldn’t see anything.

“Just setting the mood!” He called. “First, a gentle night breeze.” He flicked on the fan. Feyre’s hair fluttered behind her prettily.

She giggled, wiping a few strands from her face.

Rhys grinned to himself. “Moonlight to dapple your hair!” He flicked on the overhead lights, making them a purpleish pink.

“Are you always this dorky on first dates?” She asked.

“This is our second date!”

“Technically it’s our first, you never asked me out on the other one.”

Rhys couldn’t argue with her. “Fine.” He conceded. He flipped another switch. “Fog, from the nearby mountains.”

Feyre looked around as fog joined her on the sound stage. She glanced at the empty scene behind her. “Okay… what about that?”

“Patience!” Rhys called. He rushed down backstage and cranked the scene. “Scenery!” He said with a flourish.

He heard Feyre gasp. She’d better, he’d dragged four techies helping him find this background from storage (they’d used it in one of his pictures… a background with a starry sky and mountains).

“And finally! Mood music!” He said, putting the record on the phonograph. It was just some soft jazz he’d asked Azriel to compose for him.

He joined her out on the stage. Her eyes widened. In the simulated moonlight she looked more beautiful than ever.

Rhysand wheeled in the set dinner table and placed it in the middle for them, bringing two chairs too. He pulled out Feyre’s chair for her, and she thanked him.

He lit the candles on top of the table and sat down across from her.

“Wow.” She breathed. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

Rhysand smiled. He took her hand. “I’ve never wanted to do anything like this for anyone else.”

Feyre blushed. She took her hand back and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “So, did you do all of this yourself?”

Rhysand put his hands up in surrender. “You got me; I had help. Mor and my brothers. And Lucien, I guess, to a lesser extent.”

“‘Mor’?” Feyre quoted, an eyebrow raised.

“Well she’s my cousin, you know. I heard they put you on her latest picture. Have you started filming yet?”

Feyre shook her head. “I’ve only met her once or twice...”

“Once you start filming you’ll be able to call her ‘Mor’ too. She’s easy-going like that.”

Feyre grinned. “She seems so, from what I’ve heard. I’ve only just gotten my script. I was cast as her little sister. It’s quite a big role! Well, big for an unknown like me.”

“You’re not really an unknown! You did that ‘Beautiful Girl’ commercial with Helion, right?”

“Yeah! You remember that well…”

“Well, it’s where I found you again.” Rhysand said softly.

Feyre smiled, and took Rhysand’s hand. She squeezed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The date was going great, if Rhysand did say so himself. The food was good (Thanks Cassian!), the music Az had composed wasn’t too loud or disruptful, the fog (Mor’s idea) set a nice mood. The lights and fan canceled one another out too, so the temperature was just right.

They were about half-way through their meal when Feyre asked Rhys about his new film. “Oh, it’s not so interesting.” Rhysand said.

“I’d love to hear about it!”

“Okay… well, it’s about this Fae Prince who is desperately in love with this poor human woman,”

“Really?”

Rhysand took a sip of wine. “Yep. We get off to a bad start, fall in love, have to fight some bad guys. In the end I heroically save her and we all live happily ever after.”

“Oh yeah?” Feyre asked. “Sounds a little bit like the Dueling Caviler.”

Rhysand snorted. “Yeah well, I’ve come to realize a lot of my movies are like that...”

“Like what?”

“Bad.”

“Oh, they’re not bad!”

“They all have the same plot! You’ve seen one you’ve seen them all!”

“Oh, but that’s not true! When I used to watch the features with my sisters back home-”

“Back home?” Rhysand’s eyes widened. “You used to watch the features?” Feyre’s eyes widened as Rhysand pieced it together. “The features show all of them… You are a fan!” He cried.

Feyre put her head in her hands. “Yeah.”

“You said you didn’t even know who I was when we met!”

“Well, you were being so mean to all those fans of yours, saying such horrible things-”

“They ripped my clothes off!”

“-they were just excited. The Fan Clubs mean well-”

“How do you know that?” Then the penny dropped. “Oh. My. God. You were in a fan club!”

“In one?” Feyre cried. Well, she figured, in for a penny in for a pound. “I was the head of one!”

“Oh my god.”

Feyre blushed. “Don’t think less of me-

“That’s so cute. You’re a fan? That’s so cute!”

“Really?” Feyre asked, “you’re not… weirded out?”

“No! And really, I love my fans—promise. They just irritate me when they attack me like that. I didn’t mean any ill will, you understand.”

“Of course. Being mobbed must be horrible.”

Rhysand chewed on his food slowly, a grin on his face.

“What?” Feyre asked. She felt a little dizzy and hot from the wine.

“That’s so cute that you’re a fan. You’re so cute.”

Feyre took his free hand in hers. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I’d gladly be your biggest fan, Feyre Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. “Then we’d match.”

“Well, I’d have to start a fan club first.”

“Oh-!” Embarrassed, Feyre let go of his hand, pushing him gently.

“But I’d love to.”

Feyre was liking Rhysand Fitznox more and more. “Slick.”

“I always am.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s true, ask anyone.”

“Sure.”

They were getting closer and closer to each other. Just inches away now.

“Feyre Archeron Fan Club. I like the sound of that.”

“I bet you do.”

Rhysand could feel her breath on his lips.

“You know what I like the sound of?” She asked, voice barely a whisper.

“What?”

“Feyre Fitznox.” She pressed her lips to his.

Rhysand grabbed her, pulling her closer. Their lips crushed against each other. Feyre was basically sitting on the table now. Rhysand pulled her into his lap and curled his fingers in her hair tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She broke away to take a deep breath and press a kiss to his jawline.

“I like the sound of that too.” Rhysand whispered back, before bringing her mouth back up to his.

The weeks they spent filming Rhysand and Feyre’s films were a whirlwind of dates and stolen kissing sessions. They were the best weeks of Rhysand’s life. It rained a lot during those days, and Rhysand would kiss her by her doorpost for hours after dates while the two of them got soaked and neither cared.

Mor and the boys liked Feyre, too. Feyre and Mor became close over the days they worked together. They went to lunch and Mor would give Feyre lessons. Feyre was a hard-worker, so when she was assigned a dance with a male in the movie, she and Rhysand practiced every free chance Feyre got. Now Rhysand knew why Feyre had been such a good dancer when they’d first met, she was persistent—never leaving a step alone until she could execute it perfectly. She and Mor had loads of fun on their film.

Rhysand, on the other hand, was having a horrible time. Amarantha’s voice grated on his ears. Her accent barely affected by the numerous diction coaches Lucien had hired. Lucien seemed to be having as much of a horrible time as Rhysand, since every complaint Amarantha had (of which there were many) went to him, and Tamlin made him bend over backwards for his money-making pair. The lines were adequate, but Rhysand thought they were too cheesy, even for a romance. He told Tamlin this, but Tamlin insisted they were fine. Lucien explained to Rhys later that there was no money in the budget for a rewrite with all of the equipment they’d had to buy and then replace after a few mishaps with people dropping the highly sensitive machinery or tripping over wires.

Finally the day came when they wrapped on A Court of Romance and Duels, and the preview was set for three days from final wrap. Enough time for final touches and edits. Rhysand was glad to be finally done with the project. Feyre’s had ended a few weeks earlier, and she and Mor were opening their film soon. They both finally had time to see each other during the downtime between premieres and auditions for new projects. For Feyre, at least, Rhysand never had to audition anymore and since he was part of a duo, people came to him (or rather, them), not the other way around. But after Mor’s new film debuted, Rhysand was sure that Feyre would have offers flying in from everywhere. She was amazing in it.

Feyre’s premiere and Rhysand’s premiere were about a five weeks’ difference, but Feyre’s premiere was a week after Rhysand’s preview, so they would have a little while together before things started getting crazy for either one of them.

The days until A Court of Romance and Duels’ preview passed quickly, and ever supportive, Feyre was on Rhysand’s arm when he, Amarantha, his family, and the production team snuck in to see the reactions of the fans first hand.

Feyre was sandwiched snugly in the back row between Rhysand and Cassian. Amarantha sat on Rhysand’s other side, and beside her sat Tamlin and Lucien respectively. Azriel, for the first time in a preview, sat beside his brothers with Mor beside him.

“How’d you like the view from here, Az?” Cassian asked before the film rolled.

Azriel looked around curiously. “It’s definitely not as bright.” He answered. Since Azriel had always been conducting the orchestra during the silent films he’d never really experienced a preview like a real moving picture.

“I just hope the records work...” Lucien muttered under his breath.

The opening credits began to roll, and the theater quieted down.

The picture ran about an hour forty-five with one intermission, but unfortunately, the viewers never got that far. The motion picture opened with backstory, introducing the villain (the evil Fae King of the Forest, played by the fabulous Kallias White, whom Rhys knew well) who took poor British village girls from their homes at night, and whisked them away to his palace in the woods. His evil monologue about his plans to capture a specific girl (played by Amarantha Scarlett) and take her to be his wife was only accentuated by his curly evil mustache and bug-eyes. Really, Rhys had to commend Kallias, he had done brilliantly with his character. The scene also introduced Rhysand’s character, the son of the villain who was also desperately in love with the Poor Village Girl, and the protagonist of the story.

The first snag they hit was Amarantha’s voice itself, with the quality of the record and the fact that every rustle of her clothes was just as loud as her voice and it was just as grating. At one point Azriel literally stuck his fingers in his ears so as to lessen the pain of her voice and the beads of her necklace which she kept playing with. He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Feyre and Mor were clearly trying to be polite, but they fidgeted uncomfortably. Cassian, who had been fast asleep (Rhys had been having issues staying awake too, the film was that boring, but the audience loved this stuff so...), bolted out of his chair at the sound. Luckily they were seated in the last row, so he didn’t block anyone’s view.

The second snag that they hit was the first time the Village Girl ran away with the Prince for romantic evening. Rhysand’s lines had been… unimaginative to say the least.

“I love you,” His character told Amarantha’s, kissing her arms and hands, “I love you,” He said again, kissing her cheeks, “I love you!” He finally kissed her mouth, the music swelled, and the screen went dark. The lines were presumably symbolic of him growing in accepting his love for her or whatever, but to Rhys they just sounded stupid. When he heard a muffled snicker from Feyre he was of mixed emotions. She had tried to hide it but the lines were so absurd. Rhysand felt validated but also offended, he didn’t want… this to be his legacy!

In the middle of the first fight scene and turning point the film came off of the roll and usually, the audience would be in uproars, but now they were just confused, as if they still had to process what they were seeing. The techies got the film fixed and the rest of the scene played. The audience laughed at the death scene of the Prince’s close friend who sacrificed himself for the Prince and the Girl’s love… which they weren’t supposed to. Intermission struck and Lucien ran into the booth to make sure there would be no more mistakes. Rhys suggested that he and his family avoided Tamlin during the intermission, their producer steamed from all of the issues that had occurred.

When they sat back down to watch the rest of the film no one was excited any longer, except for Amarantha. Rhysand wasn’t sure if her excitement was optimism or stupidity. The picture rolled and almost immediately there was a problem—the voices were out of sync slightly. But it was only slightly. Then as time went on… it became an actual issue. During Amarantha’s scene with Kallias while they fought, the movie became so out of sync that it sounded as though Amarantha was fighting for her character’s imprisonment as opposed to against.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Amarantha cried in a voice that was deep and menacing.

“No! No! No!” Kallias said in a voice that was high pitched and fragile.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“No! No! No!”

The audience began to laugh. Their laughter only grew as with every frame the picture became more and more out of sync until finally Lucien bolted from his chair and into the booth to end the film and send everyone home with apologies and an excuse of “technical difficulties.”

Giggling, the audience left the Nickelodeon, mimicking Amarantha and Kallias’s scene together and the lines they found stupid such as Rhysand’s “I love you!” ramblings.

“That was so bad it was hilarious!” One couple of boys cried as they stumbled from the theater.

“Man, I am never going to see another Scarlett and Fitznox picture again! No matter how handsome he is!” A girl told her friend.

“Come on, let’s go see The Spring Court Singer to wash this from our minds.” A man told his wife and daughters.

Rhysand wished he could disappear.

“It wasn’t that bad...” Feyre said, trying to cheer up Rhys. But nothing could change his mind: this was his worst premiere ever. His career was doomed.

He wasn’t the only one who felt that way, Lucien and Tamlin talked quietly amongst themselves, already wondering what assets they would have to sell off to make up for this flop.

“I liked it!” Amarantha said cheerfully.

Her happiness was really stupidity then, Rhysand decided.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Cassian said.

“We’ll have dinner… that’ll make you feel better.” Azriel added, patting Rhys on the shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe.” Rhysand mumbled disheartened.

“Well I have an early night tomorrow.” Mor said. “Rhysand, I promise, this isn’t the end of the world. We all flop sometimes.”

“Not this big, Mor.” Rhys said miserably.

Mor kissed her cousin’s cheek kindly and turned to Feyre. “Want to split a cab?”

Feyre shook her head. “He needs me...”

“Okay. Boys?”

“You two should go with her.” Lucien said suddenly. The group turned to him surprised. Tamlin and Amarantha were already gone. Lucien clutched his coat closer to himself to keep out of the cold. “We need you in the studio at seven in the morning,” Lucien reminded them, “for Winter Court Wonderland, remember? You’re doing stunts and music.”

Cassian scowled. “Right. Forgot about that.” He glanced at Rhysand.

Rhys put on a smile for his brothers, and Feyre tightened her arms around him. “I’ll be fine guys. Really, go on home. You need your sleep. Besides, I have Feyre to listen to me wallow.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Azriel whispered. They exchanged hugs and got into Mor’s cab.

Rhysand put an arm around Feyre and kissed her hair lovingly. “Thanks for staying.”

“I’d never leave you in your time of crisis, you know that.”

“Good night, you two.” Lucien said softly. They’d forgotten he was still there. “We’ll fix this, Rhys. We’ll figure something out. Promise.” He turned to walk to into the street to get a cab when Feyre called out to him.

“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner? Maybe a drink to warm you up after this disaster of a night?” She asked.

Lucien glanced at Rhysand, and Rhys smiled at him. “Misery loves company.” He added.

Lucien smiled back weakly. “Sure. Why not? After all, this is the last night of all of our careers. Well, except you Feyre. Everyone loved you.”

“Hey! I thought you said we would fix this!”

“Rhys.” Lucien said with a sardonic laugh. “I doubt anything could fix this.”

“Don’t say that!” Feyre cried.

“He’s right, Feyre. All we can do now is wallow.”

“Yeah.” Lucien said with a flippant shrug.

“I still believe we can save it.”

“Yeah well,” Lucien sighed, “that’s a problem for future me, I guess. Tonight, we wallow.”

“Hear, hear!” Rhysand agreed miserably. And as icing to the cake that was the worst day of Rhysand’s life, at that exact moment the skies opened up and it began to pour.