#JUST LET PEOPLE IMAGINE THESE HOT FAES FUCKING

[bangtanjjks]

Ah.... I think a part of the reason why the ACOTAR fandom have felt more hostile lately is because people can never just peacefully making up scenario of two character or more kissing around here without getting someone else write a whole ass essay with "proof" on why that pair will never work™ ..... You can't ship anyone in peace in this fandom without having One (1) person trying to debunk your ship😭 once or twice is fine. But with every single ships that's not canon? That's just tiring.

Example:

*some post about rhysta and how their dynamic will work if they're in a relationship*

Some person: making a 5 paragraphs essay on why rhysta will not work in a romantic relationship backed with proof of excerpt from the book like they're quoting the bible

I get IT!!!! WE'RE FANTASIZING ABOUT TWO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS KISSING. this is NOT the academic/scientific community, I do not need to have you peer review the text of two pair of characters fucking just because of canon

[braixen]

what your trainer type says about you

normal: nothing burger. humans are normal types.

water: can you stop chilling and stand for something but without turning into a mfing tempest? you're either 0 or 100

fire: STOP being so impulsive

grass: it's not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner

fighting: all pokémon fight. just because yours do martial arts doesn't impress me

electric: i understand from the deepest part of my heart some of them eat electricity to live. that said, i really wish you guys wouldn’t cause blackouts when i’m battling. we have to pause the whole thing and get the gym generator running and it really ruins the flow of the battle.

dark: you know three songs that were popular in the amv scene by heart huh bud. i like how evil teams use them but you stand by them. you are every rival that wore all black and ranged from either apathetic to an angry front but had a pokemon that evolved with high friendship.

psychic: you are not an empath because you can read the room. go to therapy. unless you're one of the psychic trainers that have psychic powers. i appreciate you leaning into it so much

poison: was it worth never letting your pokemon on your furniture and always having to eat outside

rock and ground: do you guys ever get into arguments about how distinct they are?

ice: i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. you cannot ethically own ice type pokémon in hot regions. that said, assuming every ice type owner that doesn’t live up on that mountain where the kanto champ dipped isn’t housing their pokémon in their cities ice type facility isn’t true either

bug: i’m so sorry everyone thinks bug types are weak. ilysm. you have as big of a heart as the dark type trainers.

steel: you think you’re better than the ground and rock types until the fire type comes out.

ghost: PLEASE put them on the leashes specifically made for ghost types or keep them in your pokéball!! they’re known to scare people and STEAL CHILDREN.

flying: everyone who characterizes you guys as airheads instead of. like. idc. very intelligent pilots at best and somebody who’s calm and gentle enough to befriend pokemon as flighty as flying types at least. sorry for the flighty pun you probably get that a lot.

fairy: be so honest with me is valerie actually fae. why do her eyes look like that. she has anime eyes.

dragon: this is what i imagine dragon being weak to dragon is like

[takeachillpillshawty]

Very specific TWST head cannons

Jack was accidentally given alcohol by a third year at a party because they thought he was also a third year.

Ruggie would make bets with students if they can guess Jack's age correctly.

Malleus would stay back at after the final class of the day just to sing, he likes the sound of the empty class room. He stopped doing that because a rumor about a "haunted class" was spreading.

Sebek yelled so hard one time, he couldn't talk the next day due to the pain.

Vil watches those self care videos, as in the earwax removal, black head removal, technically any of those gross removal videos. It's a guilty pleasure of his.

Cater is a hot cheeto girl, he and Idia would make ramen and put hot cheetos in it.

Silver is a heavy sleeper...like heavy sleeper. One time a fire broke out in Diasomnia and everyone was screaming. Only after the fire was out did he wake up.

Malleus used to talk to stuff animals as a kid.

Sebek monologues to himself, and everyone can hear him.

Sebek when he was a kid chased another child with a broken ruler for saying Malleus' name in vain.

Riddle and Jamil have this weird friendship, basically it's just them trying to relax but remembering there are idiots who are in the dorms and can't rest until they get things done.

Each dorm has their own WiFi router, Idia usually hacks into the others in case Ignihyde's one is down or he just want to see people's search history.... Let's just say he's not comfortable around certain classmates.

Idia permanently puts Ortho on child lock so people won't ask him to look up not so friendly things on the internet.

Ortho can get sick from viruses or corrupted data he accidentally downloaded.

Jade and Rook have a passive aggressive rivalry. Like imagine them in the botanical garden having lunch and Jade handed him a poison mushroom infused tea and Rook just 'accidentally' pours it in a plant watching it wither. While looking Jade dead in the eyes, both have smiles on there faces, as they passive aggressively try to kill each other.

Cater x Jade or Rook would be so fucking funny. Like imagine dating the most dangerous students in the school but hey at least the dick is crazy.

Trey has a collection of his baby teeth and his siblings baby teeth on his night stand. No-one brings it up...ever.

another reason why Cater doesn't eat sweets is because he'll get a tooth ache just eating a smore.

A student once asked Crewel if it was possible to make 'crack' in potionology..... Crewel wasn't getting paid enough for this.

Crowley has committed tax evasion.

Azul Is thicc. I said what I said, and don't boo me. I'm right.

Ruggie is banned from Monstro Lounge due to finding loop holes in Azul's contracts and getting free stuff.

Malleus hates cake with too much frosting, It defeats the purpose of the cake.

Malleus would use fae circles to teleport prefect to him.

Floyd likes to just bite things, especially his phone case.

Rook takes the best photos.

Sometimes people forget that Vil is an actor and model, so when seeing him in a movie, commercial or magazine they just get jump scared and remembered .

" oh yeah....Housewarden Vil is a celebrity.."

I think prefect is desensitized to meeting famous or high status people that they're not a big deal to them. Imagine Prefect going to a cafe and THE KALIM AL ASIM Is paying for their drink, everyone is shocked that someone who's richer than royalty is paying for you and all you say is " Oh thanks Kalim. "

I feel like up to book 6 every dorm leader helped out in repairing Ramshackle adding there own piece of their dorms in there. A gaming room from Idia, A luxurious bathroom with skin care supplies and designer clothes from Vil, pantry and groceries from Heartslaybul and Scarabia and a cook book from Trey and Jamil respectively. An indoor and outdoor pool from Savannah claw, wallpaper and decor from Azul, and finally furniture and jewelry from Malleus.

[eruden-writes]

"The Beast is abusive."

Alright, so I'm going to get super nerdy for a hot sec, because I thought too hard on this.

All of this is going to refer to Disney's 1991 Beauty and the Beast, since that was who was pictured on the poll these posts mention. Broadway musicals, sequels, and the live adaptation are basically AUs.

This is long so it's under a cut.

First, Beast was trying to survive and un-enchant not only himself, but his servants. This isn't an excuse by any means, but allows us to understand his mindset. He had a whole castle-full of people relying on him - and even goading him - to seduce a woman he barely knew. (And who knows how many times they tried that before? How many women wandered into the castle? Or how many servants tried to seduce the Beast?)

Further, in Be Our Guest, Lumiere says the servants have been "rusting for 10 years." Which leads to the second point...

Second, whether Beast was cursed when he was 11 (since the curse ended when the last petal fell on his 21st birthday) or he was 18-20 and the spell slowed down his aging, he was still in survival mode for 10 years.

This isn't even touching on what his initial attempts to break the curse was like or how he learned to do everything in his new form. (Side note: When people get plastic surgery, they can get a nauseous due to the "unreality" of it. Not recognizing one's body or face hits hard it turns out. Now imagine being a kid or a young adult, looking in the mirror and seeing something completely not human. Oof.)

And who put him in that survival mode?

The Enchantress.

I know, I know, it was to teach him a lesson because he was already a shit. But who gave her the right to teach him that lesson? Absolutely no one.

She only bestowed the lesson because she was more powerful than the Beast/Prince Adam. Her curse kept him and the servants isolated for ten years.

(Also, can we talk about how the stained glass opening makes it seem like the Prince is answering his own fucking door in a castle? He has servants for that! What are the chances a servant lied and didn't let her in and she just assumed it was the prince denying her entry? Did we even get a scene where the Beast talked about the Enchantress? Or does he think this fae-like beauty just popped out of nowhere to curse him???

Is the stained glass opening just a "winners write history" reiteration full of flaws and lies?!)

Could there have been other, more healthy, ways for a freakin' magical woman to make her point to this allegedly looks-obsessed royal prince? Absolutely.

All of this is to say:

The Beast is a victim of the Enchantress.

While it doesn't absolve him of his own abusive/toxic acts, it gives us more reason beyond "he was already rotten to begin with" for his actions.

Being abusive or continuing the circle of abuse is honestly something that happens with abuse survivors before they acknowledge and process their abuse.

Through the story of Beauty and the Beast, we see Beast becoming a better - arguably healthier - person and healing with Belle's support/friendship/companionship and in spite of the Enchantress's abusive use of her powers.

Fin.

[platypanthewriter]

Take On Me

Art by @fae-vorite​ for the Harringrove Big Bang!

When Steve pulled up in the drive, he had a mouthful of blue slushie, and he was watching the tiny old lady he’d been driving behind.  She’d barely been tall enough to see over the dash, and as he watched, grimacing, she barely swerved around a row of mailboxes, and then carreened through a four-way stop.

As he stared after her, there was a weird hissing noise by his elbow.  Steve yelled and threw his arm up in the air, spattering himself with slushie.  

“Bwah!” Max yelled, stumbling back, and smacking blue slushie ice off her arm.  “Steve!  What the hell.”

She hadn’t been in the driveway when he pulled in, Steve was fairly sure, and he stared around.  “Where are the rest of you?” he asked warily, rubbing flung slushie off his chin.  He glanced up, half-expecting Dustin to swing down on him with a vine from a tree.

Max squinted at him, her jaw working, and then glanced around.  “In the bushes,” she said.  “Get us inside, now, Steve.”

He rolled his eyes, stalked over and held the front door open—and then swore and dropped his slushie right on the ground and ran over to help, because it wasn’t Dustin and the Chipmunks hiding in the bushes.  There was a woman, shaking, her hands stained with what looked like blood, and Billy Hargrove, who apparently wasn’t dead, barely staggering between Max and the lady.  He was bandaged, and half-naked.  

Steve elbowed his way in past Max, and got an arm around Billy, hefting his sweaty, shivering ass towards the door.  

Once Steve had Billy, Max ran ahead and kicked the slushie cup aside, ushering the woman into his house.  “Mom, come on,” she groaned, and it occured to Steve that he’d never wondered about Max’s mom.  It seemed obvious, thinking about it, that most people had a mom.  One of his girlfriends freshman year had had two, and didn’t seem to have a dad, which Steve had never quite figured out.

Billy looked dead, mostly, pale until he was nearly grey, like instant oatmeal.  “I thought you were dead,” Steve hissed at him, and he snorted a laugh.  

“Guess not,” he breathed, his head against Steve’s as he stumbled along.

When they got inside, the phone was ringing, but Max ran and stood in front of it.  “Don’t answer,” she told Steve, staring at him with wet red eyes.  He nodded, still half-carrying her undead brother, and trying to figure out whether the blood on Max’s mom could have come from under Billy’s bandages.  

“We should call somebody,” Steve pointed out, as he lowered Billy onto the couch.  Billy’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t try and get himself more comfortable, or anything, he just laid there.  Steve threw a blanket over him, feeling like he was covering up a body.  

Max’s mom looked like she wasn’t up for much, staring at her hands and the floor, and Max took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing her face.  

Steve beckoned her into the kitchen.  “We should call somebody,” he whispered, again.  Max set her jaw, shaking her head, and Steve made a face.  “At least a doctor,” he hissed, and she deflated, staring out at the limp shape of Billy on the couch.  

“H-he should be fine,” she mumbled, digging her fingernails into her forearms until the skin whitened.  “He—he didn’t get shot,” she gritted out, and her mom flinched, shivering, and rubbed at her bloody hands.  

“Wait,” said Steve, staring between them.

“M-my husband,” said Max’s mom, and then covered her mouth, and a shaky sob.

“You have a dad?!” Steve yelped, looking around.  “He got shot?!” he added, grabbing his car keys, because it seemed like somebody should probably find the guy. 

“He’s dead,” Max’s mom whispered, staring at her bloodied hands.  “He died right—right in front—in front of—”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Max said flatly, “—and we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Steve nodded, and then shook his head, bewildered.  He hung the car keys up by the front door, and then braced himself, and sidled over to touch Max’s mom’s shoulder, waving at the kitchen sink.  “Um, d’you want to…?”  

She nodded, and took a couple weaving steps to lean against a chair, which she drug to the sink.  Steve leaned down to whisper to Max.  “...so...somebody’s dad got shot?  That’s—that’s where the blood—” he asked, feeling well out of his depth.  His fingers itched to call a functioning adult—Hopper, or Joyce Byers, even, because it looked like Max’s mom wasn’t up for much more than staring at the bloody water in the sink.  “Should I try and find some...tea,” Steve hazarded, and Max snorted a laugh, rubbing her eyes.  

“Billy’s dad,” she whispered, watching her mom.  “The, um—” she dropped her voice further.  It rasped in her throat.  “—Mom let them in because they told her they were the CIA.”

“The CIA shot Billy’s dad?!” Steve choked out, trying to keep it under his breath.  

“They weren’t actually the CIA,” Max said, rolling her eyes.  “Obviously.”

“O-obviously,” Steve echoed, because it sort of made sense.  It did seem weird that the CIA would come to Hawkins, Indiana to shoot anybody’s dad.

“Mom thought they were just...checking on us, you know,” Max said, sniffling, and Steve tried to imagine assuming that the C-fucking-IA had banged on his door just to roll out the welcome wagon.  “Just—just like the FBI does, all the damn time,” Max mumbled, biting her lip.

“Wait, what,” Steve interrupted with a hiss.  “The what now.”

“We’re, um, we’re not really from California,” she whispered, swallowing, and biting back a sharp laugh.  

“Okay,” Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, and watching Max’s mom cry softly with her arms in the sink, and her head bowed.  “Okay, yeah, no, hang on,” he told Max, jogging the couple of steps over to her mom.  He poked the woman’s shoulder gingerly.  “You all cleaned up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, and she turned big watery eyes on him, but she nodded.  

“Come out in the front room and sit down,” Steve told her, feeling like sitting wouldn’t really help much, but crying into the sink had to be worse.  He reached in and turned the water off, and guided her by the elbow into the front room.  “Gonna get everybody something hot to drink,” he told them, hoping he still had...something.  Ancient instant coffee from the last time his dad was home, maybe.  Something old and dusty, probably, but Steve didn’t think Max’s mom would know the difference, not after having her husband shot by somebody pretending to be the fucking CIA.  

After he pointed her at the big recliner, Max started fussing around with the color-coordinated throw blankets Steve’s mom had bought and never used, and Steve stepped over to the couch to squeamishly lift the blanket off Billy’s head.

“I-I’m fine, honey,” Max’s mom told her, behind them, as Steve surveyed Billy’s pale, sweaty face.  His eyes were closed, but the skin around them was as red and raw as Max’s mom’s.  His eyelashes were stuck together with the fresh tears leaving trails down his cheeks.  

Steve dropped the blanket again, grimacing, and stalked back into the kitchen to find the teakettle, fill it, and put it on the stove.  He found some packets of hot chocolate Dustin’s mom had given him at Christmas, and dumped them into two mugs.  After a minute, watching the glow of the burner shine off the bottom of the kettle, he grabbed another mug, shrugging.  

 Max shook her head when he walked out and tried to hand her the hot chocolate.  “I’m not a little kid,” she said, glaring at him, but her mom took it with a soft sigh.  

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely.  “Max, sit down, I—I’m fine.”  She reached out and took the mug Steve had offered Max, and held it out to her, and Max sighed heavily, but took it.

Steve went back for the third mug, and then uncovered Billy’s head again.  “Hey,” he whispered, and Billy licked his chapped lips without opening his eyes.  He grimaced before he blinked and squinted up.  “Here, at least hold it,” Steve told him.  “It’s warm.”

“...you made me tea,” Billy growled, glaring at the mug, and then, warily, at Steve’s face.

“It’s chocolate,” Max put in.  “You like chocolate, asshole.”

“...made me chocolate?” Billy asked muzzily, frowning harder, and Steve sat it on the floor, in order to get his arm around Billy-suddenly-alive-Hargrove, and help him sit up.  

“Are you sure you’re not...dying?” Steve whispered to him, lifting the mug and pressing Billy’s hands around it.  “Like, right here?  I need to, uh...kidnap a doctor, or…?”

Billy snorted into his first sip of hot chocolate, biting his lips together as his chest shook with coughs.  After a few seconds, he took a shaky breath, and opened his eyes again.  “Don’t...kidnap anybody,” he rasped out, smirking.  “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harrington.”

“I know a guy,” Steve told him, letting go of the mug, and reaching out to tug at the bandages visible over the top of the blanket.  Billy went very still, holding his breath, which was creepy.  If he wasn’t sitting up, Steve would have checked his pulse.  “A doctor.  M’not gonna let you die,” Steve told him, eyeing the stretched pink scars under the gauze.  Some of the gauze looked wet, not red, but pale yellow, and Steve grimaced, brushing his fingers over it.

“It’s just the surgeries.  Fuck,” Billy creaked out, his hands shaking on the hot chocolate so it nearly spilled.  “They had to cut me open a few more times.  Stitch me back together.”  

Steve put his hands around Billy’s on the mug, to steady them.  “...I got some duct tape somewhere,” he offered, under his breath, and Billy’s breath huffed against his fingers in a laugh.  His mustache tickled, but Steve held steady, watching him drink the hot chocolate.  His cheeks were pinking up a little.  He stunk, kinda, sweaty, and sour from his bandages.  It was weird to be anywhere near Billy Hargrove and not smell his cologne.  “...I thought you were dead,” Steve said under his breath, and Billy shrugged a shoulder, wincing, and swallowing hard.

“Murphy’s law,” Billy hissed back, grinning, but his eyes welled up again, and he blinked rapidly.  “Whatever you least want to happen…”

 Steve helped him drink the hot chocolate, trying to think of something to say.  ‘Sorry your dad got shot,’ seemed wrong.  ‘At least your mom’s alive,’ didn’t seem right either, and then Steve realized he had no idea whether the woman was Billy’s mom.  Billy and Max’s family seemed complicated, and it was entirely possible both parents were Billy’s, and Max had been snatched from a stroller outside a grocery store.  

“So, um,” Steve started.  “You’re...not from California?  Why would you…”  

“Lie about that?” Max asked, flatly.  “The goddamn FBI told us to.”

“...the ones that…” Steve stared over at her, trying not to stare at whoever’s mom’s hands, where they’d been all over blood.  Max called her mom, he told himself.  Whatever she is, Max thinks of her as her mom.

Maybe they’re aliens, he thought, trying not to laugh, because why was the FBI checking in.  Maybe they’d all raised Max from an alien egg they’d taken turns sitting on.

She seemed okay, for an alien, he decided, as Max said, “We’re in Witness Protection.  Or we were, until the Starcourt Mall footage made the national news.”

“Ohhhhh,” Steve said, nodding.  “That makes more sense than aliens,” and Billy choked on his hot chocolate.  “Did you see a gang murder?” Steve asked politely, that being how it usually worked in Hawaii Five-O.

Billy coughed harder, and Steve patted his back, gently, grimacing as he tried not to break the guy any further.  

“Noooo,” said Max, and when Steve glanced over, she was staring at him.

“What?  Shit happens,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Sometimes monsters steal your brother.”

“They didn’t exactly steal him,” Max said weakly, and Steve blinked.  

“I was talking about Will Byers,” he said, and shrugged.  “No gang shootouts, then?”

“We lived near Portland,” Max said, like that fact made Steve’s question the stupidest question ever asked, and then she sighed.  “It’s, um, it’s actually...stupider.  Than that.  There, um, there was a...lab.  There.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said, nodding, and thinking of Hawkins Laboratory, and Eleven.  

“They wanted children to...experiment on,” she whispered, and trailed off.  Steve turned to see her glowering into her mug.

“Set up this machine to check the local kids,” Billy said, suddenly, near Steve’s ear.  He huffed a laugh as Steve jumped.  “At the arcade.  Looked like a normal arcade machine, but it was keeping track, high scores, you know.”  He took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat.  “Even had a fake name.  Polybius.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Max shouted, suddenly, her voice wet and uneven, and her mom grabbed her close, squeezing her with white-knuckled hands.  “How the hell...we saw guys in suits parked around the place, we thought maybe the owner was like...running some kind of gambling with the machines and they were watching him, or something, how could I have—”

“Went to pick her up and they were shoving her in a van,” Billy’s voice rasped, and Steve jerked unintentionally, imagining it.  “I followed them to the lab and they tried to tell me it was some...class for special kids,” he hissed.  “Tried to tell us all to shut up.”

“They came and talked to N-Neil and I,” Max’s mom said.  “They were...we did what they asked, if they’d leave Max alone.  We couldn’t talk about it, not with anyone.”  

Steve nodded, familiar with the way laboratories worked, and filed away the fact that Max’s not-dad had been named Neil, before somebody’d shot him.  There was a long silence, then, as Billy bit his lips together, frowning into the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate, and Max’s mom cried softly again.

“I called the fucking police,” Max said hoarsely into the silence.  “I—I called the goddamn police, they were—they were stealing kids, they—”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing.  He’d found out more and more about what the lab had been doing, after he’d promised to keep quiet.  They’d even killed the nice burger man, he thought sadly.  His name had been Benny, Steve learned later, but at the time, he’d just been the nice burger man, the one who listened and advised as Steve told him about being terrible at college application essays, and his love for the smartest girl in school.  

Luckily, in Steve’s case, the sheriff had already been told.  “You had to,” he agreed.

“They shot the cop she told,” Billy said flatly, in Steve’s ear.

“They were kidnapping little kids—” Max yelled at Billy, her voice cracking with emotion and he raised his voice over hers, his voice wavery as he tried to catch his breath.  

“Shot him in the head.  They shot his partner, too—”

“The FBI helped us sneak out,” Max’s mom said softly, but they both shut up.  “We were shuffled around a lot…”

“Why bring you here,” Steve said doubtfully.  “Where our lab is?  I mean, it’s better, now.”

“Maybe our FBI guys weren’t as on our side as we thought,” Billy muttered, swallowing hard, again, and Steve realized he was trying not to cry.

Steve tried not to do anything, push Billy away, or anything weirder, like hug him.  He’d gotten too good at this babysitting thing, he thought with a grimace, if he was inclined to hug Billy Goddamn Hargrove.  The problem was, Billy’s inaudible, bitten-back sobs felt like when Nancy’s little sister was scared of the noises outside, while her parents were at the movies.  Steve was conditioned to pull that kind of thing against his shoulder, even when it was Billy Hargrove, with his broad, heavy, muscular shoulders, and heavier fists.

“Fuck,” Billy hissed under his breath, pulling his hand loose from Steve’s to rub his wrist across his eyes.  

“...d’you want...anything,” Steve whispered, as softly as he could, fairly sure Billy didn’t want him to sing Old MacDonald even if he was really good at all the animal noises.  

“How about my dad, alive,” Billy snarled, his unsteady breaths taking the sting out of it.  

“Thanks for letting us in,” Max said, hoarsely, and Steve turned to frown at her.

“Of course I let you in,” he snorted.  “I wasn’t gonna leave you hiding in my bushes.”

“We—we’ll figure out what to do,” Max said, as her mother squeezed her close again.  “Soon.  Before—before the lab people figure out where we are.”

“We need Hopper,” Steve told them, starting to stand, and then realizing he was holding Billy up, and he didn’t want to drop him on the floor.  He wasn’t sure how together Billy was under the bandages—he didn’t seem very...healed—and the thought of dropping him on the floor, and just accidentally jostling all Billy’s internal organs out through a big hole in his back made Steve shudder.  

“You can’t call him,” Max’s mom said bleakly.  “They were listening to our phones.  They said, as we...ran,” she choked out.

“...bet they aren’t listening to walkie-talkies,” Steve told her, absently spreading his fingers over the cool skin of Billy’s shoulder, to warm him up.

“Where’s yours?” Max asked breathlessly, and Steve gave her directions to his sock drawer.  

Billy was shivering harder, and Steve waited until his little sister and maybe-mom weren’t looking to pull the blanket away from more of his bandages.

There was red smeared on them.  “Billy,” Steve hissed, urgently, and Billy laughed wetly, wiping his nose.

“‘S not mine,” he laughed, a little hysterically.  “S’my dad’s.  He—he died right—”

“Shit,” Steve said, blankly, watching Billy try to wipe it away with shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.  “That can’t…” he trailed off as Max brought the walkie-talkie down, and she and her mom started whispering about what to say.  “You need new bandages,” Steve told Billy, the one thing he was confident he could do.  “I need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, fuck,” Billy panted, sniffling juicily, and Steve nodded once.  

“I’m taking Billy up to...clean him up,” Steve told the other two, and they nodded, watching him.  

“He’s still got stitches,” Max said, glaring.  “Don’t get him wet.”

‘Your dad’s blood got all over’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say ever, so Steve just nodded, and got Billy fairly upright.  

“How far we going,” he panted, swaying, and Steve made a face, then turned around.  

“Piggyback,” he announced, and Billy swore under his breath.

 “Fuuuck,” Billy whispered in Steve’s ear, as Steve made his way carefully up the stairs, steadying himself with one hand on the railing, and one hand awkwardly supporting Billy’s ass.  “Watch it there, Harrington,” Billy snorted, with a pained grunt.  

“Sorry,” Steve told him.  “Is this like how you can’t squeeze the donuts at the store unless you buy them?” he asked, because Billy was heavy, and his ass cheek was soft in Steve’s hand, and Steve’s tongue was on cruise control.

Billy coughed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder and chest as he gave a strangled-sounding laugh.  “...yeah, Harrington, it’s exactly like that,” he gasped out.  “I’m...your fucking donut...now, asshole.”

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him, all the adrenaline of them showing up covered in blood draining out of him.  “Shit,” he panted, staggering up onto the landing, and taking a minute to breathe.  “Don’t make me laugh on the stairs—”

“You started this shit, I just finished it,” Billy mumbled against his neck.  His breathing was uneven and shuddery.

Steve took a slow breath to steady himself, and carried Billy just that little bit further through his plaid bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Billy didn’t even comment on the extreme plaid, his teeth chattering, so Steve nearly dropped him on the toilet in his urgency to get a few inches of really hot water in the tub to plonk Billy in.  It’d be just like with Holly, he figured, put few inches of water in there to keep her warm, but not enough so she could slide in and drown.  It wouldn’t be enough to get up near Billy’s bandages, he told himself, then, while the water was running, he realized he didn’t know where all the bandages were, so he reached over and yanked at the drawstring of Billy’s sweatpants.

“WAH,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand with his cold, sweaty, shaking one.  “...what,” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, and then blinking stubbornly open again.  

“Come on,” Steve said, grimacing at how pale he was.  “You got any bandages below the chest?”  Billy just shivered and breathed, staring into the middle distance, and Steve finally bit his lips together and grabbed Billy’s cold face, turning it to face him.  “Billy,” he said.  “Billy?”

“...Harrington,” Billy whispered, focusing on him, and then looking around, his eyes welling up again with tears.

“Come on, stay with me, I’m gonna get you warmed up,” Steve told him, ignoring his own heart pounding.  He was aware of shock as a concept—he’d seen Joyce Byers after—after.  But Billy had bandages, he could be bleeding out, or something, and the thought made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he tried to lift the guy enough to get his sweatpants off, and pull him into the bath.  

“Come on,” Steve whispered, pulling Billy up until he was sort of standing.  Steve had to reach down and lift Billy’s feet one by one into the tub, and he yelped, opening his eyes again at the heat.  “Just gonna clean you up,” he muttered, pretty sure Billy wasn’t hearing him, what with the way he was slumped against Steve’s side.  Steve lowered him into the water, and Billy shook his head, mumbling inaudibly.

Steve held his shoulders for a long moment, watching his face, and then yanked at the bandages.  Billy still had some stitches underneath, but to Steve’s profound relief, it didn’t seem like any of the blood was his—or that the blood had seeped in anywhere.  From what Steve remembered of reading Johnny Tremain in middle school, gangrene was a possibility if stuff got past Billy’s stitches, and so he was very careful to wipe around them.  

Billy relaxed slowly against the back of the tub, his head tilting to rest against the corner as his eyes closed.  His hands occasionally lifted to touch Steve’s, and then fell away as Steve washed him all over, until he was pink and warm, and didn’t smell like sour sweat anymore.  Billy snored softly under his fingers, and Steve bit back a laugh.  

The bath water started to cool, and Billy’s shoulders started to clench again, his legs goosepimpling, so Steve ran the hot water again.  He pulled the plug on the cooler water, then when the tub was empty, replugged it.  As the hot water rose, he ran out to grab an old plastic cup from his desk—he had to dump the pencils out—and pour warm water over Billy’s legs.  

Billy screamed, this awful broken noise, scrambling to get out of the tub, and Steve yelped and turned the water off, helping frantic, naked Billy Hargrove out of the tub and half into his lap.  He was slippery and warm, and Steve tried not to think about it, stretching to try and reach a towel, but Billy was laughing brokenly into his hands, muttering “I’m me, Harrington, I’m fucking sorry, I’m the best you’re gonna get, I’m still me, I’m Billy goddamn Hargrove—”

“Shit, I know,” Steve told him, as Billy’s wet shoulder soaked into his t-shirt.  “You’re Billy, you’re okay, shit.  You were just cold, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Maybe I’m better as the Mindflayer,” Billy laughed, gulping and sniffling.  “Could’ve taken out that lab guy before…” he took a shuddering breath, wiping his nose.  “Not just...let my dad get fucking shot,” he whispered.  “F’I wasn’t such a waste of space I’d have answered the door.”

With a sinking horror, Steve realized he had his arm around a naked guy in his bathroom, a naked guy who’d once beaten him unconscious.  A naked dude who wished he was dead.  “Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said, after some thought.  “You don’t know he’d have gotten away.  Max’d be crying over you again.”

“Like she would,” Billy snorted, reaching for the toilet paper and loudly blowing his nose.

“She did, though,” Steve told him, and Billy glared over.

“Yeah, right,” he said, and then opened his mouth again, shut it, and wiped his eyes.  “...what the fuck am I doing here,” he grunted.

“Uh, well,” Steve started, “—you were um, playing an evil videogame in Oregon—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, wheezing with pain.  “Why are you...why’d you—” he mumbled, as Steve set his jaw determinedly and wrested him up from the floor, dragging Heavy-Ass-Hargrove out to his bed, and tipping him into the sheets.  

The bandages were an adventure, with Billy falling asleep--and he finally fell asleep again right on Steve, as Steve tried to get him dried off.  

He didn’t wake up for hours, until Steve was sitting up in bed, on the phone with Hopper.  Billy blinked big blue disoriented eyes up at him, frowning grouchily, and Steve held his finger up to his lips, listening to Hopper explain the situation.

“It’s okay,” Steve hissed to Billy.  “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

Billy stilled, watching him, then snorted a laugh as his eyes drifted shut.  “...’kay, Harrington, he mumbled, sighing contentedly as he curled into the warm pillows.

Steve smiled, and rolled his eyes.

[teaganmyrick]

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @teaganmyrick​ @eyes-in-the-night​

SUMMARY: Teagan brings treats to Marina, but finds Correy instead.

WARNINGS: Sibling Death, Parental Death

Summer was in short, hellish. Far too hot, even if Correy had (god forbid) been human. The Isle of Man was a dreary cold and wet place. His people built for winters that lasted the majority of the year and maybe three weeks of sun dappled between months of overcast skies and drizzling clouds. Lampade liked the dark. The cooler places. There were stories that his kin came from the greek underworld of Hades. Which was almost never described as one of brimstone and fire like the christian hell. So the nymph could only imagine that it felt very much like… this. It was just after dusk, but the temperature was still well into the 80’s. The fucking 80’s. And the shadowed man was still wearing his protective long sleeves. Covering himself from the last rays of sunlight that were too stubborn to sink below the horizon.

Normally he would have just waited to go out, but his crows needed attending to. A few of them had gotten into some sort of mess and needed a little help with preening and cleaning their feathers. Amongst the flock, the tall gangly man sat calmly. Chaos erupting any time a new sound or sight caught the birds’ collective attention. Correy looked a bit like a kindergarten teacher. Gently cooing and coercing the hyped up little creatures to gather in line, so he could quickly and carefully get the majority of the goo off of them. He was far too preoccupied with his corvid cleaning service to notice someone approaching the lighthouse.

–

When it came to baked goods, Teagan typically made one too many. Or rather, a dozen too many. It helped that she had friends, and while it ached to visit the lighthouse, she chose Marina to be her first delivery of bara brith. As she knocked on the door, anxiety pricked at her skin at the possibility that Levi would be the one to open the door. She really should have called first, but she was motivated by her love for Marina and her need to be fearless. She didn’t want to let the demon win

So, Teagan waited, foot tapping uncontrollably and her grip tightening around the basket after her first set  of knocks. Everything would be okay, she told herself. If Levi opened the door, she would just skirt past it, and move on. Other than that, she would be fine. She wanted to be fine. It would not have control over her just because of its stupid mark on her chest.

–

There was an unceremonious knocking coming from the door. In a way that was far too polite for any of the company the lighthouse crew usually pulled in. Beyond that, there was another sense. One more on the ethereal, vague sorta side. Another fae was around. Intrigue piqued, Correy finally plucked himself from his seated position. Long limbs carried him towards the front of the building. Toward the sound. And a vaguely familiar face. If only from descriptions and online profiles. A sleight young thing, fair of hair and eyes. Didn’t take a detective to put together who this visitor was.

“Miss Teagan, I presume?” The lampade loomed, but not enough to be intimidating. One of his crows had bobbled along with him, perching on his head and observing along with the nymph. He was always ready to welcome another fae unto his home. Correy liked to think he was a gracious host. Ready to cater to the needs of anyone who popped in. Well. As long as they weren’t trespassers, casters, or hunters. He had a different way of welcoming those sorts.

—

The chimes that rang beneath Teagan’s skin sent a smile to her face, which only grew when her eyes landed on Correy. She gasped softly, delighted that Marina’s friend had opened the door. Finally, they could meet, finally, she could hug him. Without a second thought, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around the lanky man. “Yes! And you must be Correy!” She exclaimed gleefully, relishing in the way her body buzzed, recognizing the lampade as her people. “I was looking for Marina, but this is a great surprise! Waw!” She finished her statement with a flare of her native tongue, elation filling her too much to remember to continue in English.

“Ni allaf ei gredu!” Teagan was in awe of Correy, and she wished more than ever that she would have brought an extra basket. Letting go of him, she took a step back, still grinning. “You’re even more magnificent than Marina described. My apologies for being so excitable, but it’s always so lovely to come across our kind.” Her smile fell only minutely, a pang of sorrow tugging at her chest at how she missed her old Aos Sí. “Please, take this as a gesture of goodwill. It’s bara brith. Best with afternoon tea on a day like this.” Eyes shined brightly as Teagan looked up at Correy, hoping he’d accept her gift, even hoping she’d be invited inside. Before she could ask though, she needed more information. “I could have some with you if you’d like, but uh…is it home? Levi?”

It was customary amongst the gentry, for welcomes to be warm and filled with laughter. Even when the other was nearly a stranger. But it’d been so long since Correy had been able to properly feel his way through one of these meetings that he’d almost forgotten how much it felt like starlight. How the smiles and barks of mirth simply bursted out of him. Before he could think she was hugging him, and he was hugging back. Allowing himself to lean into it. Wrap his long arms around the tiny Nix. Even lift her up a little as he squeezed. It felt good to let loose. To be present in the moment and free to express everything he felt.

“Le gach teas i mo chroí. Tá fáilte romhat anseo, a bhean óg” Welsh and Gaelige weren’t incredibly similar. But the sentiment behind each of their native tongues was one well understood. Even without a universal translator. Pale eyes drifted down towards the basket, and filled with a separate, but equally as delighted, joy. “Oh I wouldn’t have it any o’ter way. I’ve an assortment of teas ‘n such inside. Could get the kettle on from here.” He winked and let his shadows start the work in the other room. A few gentle clicks and the flame beneath the old tea kettle roared to life. A few mugs made their way from the cabinet and down to the counter. Seemingly moving on their own if not for the snakey tendrils that wisped underneath as they moved. Correy was a bit too proud at that. Now that he had his shadows back, he would use them to the fullest.

“Nah, heard you have a spot of bother with it, shouldn’t be home all day. C’mon in, iasc milis.”

—

The acceptance from a stranger wouldn’t normally ignite such strong emotion in Teagan, but Correy wasn’t ever really a stranger. Fates had connected them from birth, cutting them from the same cloth with delicate precision. He was a home for her, and she was a home for him. That love she held deep inside may have been a vulnerability, but never was it a weakness. Especially when fae gathered. Especially when they spoke a tongue so similar that it brought tears to Teagan’s eyes. Eons before the two met, they loved one another, and she could feel that connection in every fiber of her being. Feel it in the words of warmth and welcome. “Rydych chi mor brydferth, dyn melys. Hyd yn oed yn fwy prydferth nag y gallwn fod wedi dychmygu.” While their languages differed, she hoped he’d understand as she did.

Teagan’s eyes sparkled further at how the tea began behind Correy, and then they shined at knowing Levi would be nowhere to be found. The sting at her chest, over the mark, quelled. With a relieved sigh, she let out a chuckle, earning a sniffle. “Not just a spot of bother. The bloody bastard killed me and laughs at what it did to me. Would have killed it if I had the chance, but I wouldn’t do that to Marina. I love her far more than I hate it.” As Teagan spoke, she watched with pure admiration as everything was set in place by Correy. His abilities were stunning, and she couldn’t wait to see more, to speak and learn about such a beautiful fae.

“You are magnificent, lad.” Hands cupped Correy’s cheeks, hues of blue meeting his with a delight fae beyond comprehension. “I wish to delve into you. Tell me everything about you.” Bouncing her her tiptoes, Teagan traced over Correy’s features, making sure to memorize them. She never wanted to forget him.

Teagan’s enthusiasm was infectious. Even if it was so foreign to the older nymph at this point. Correy had spent far too long putting up walls. Three decades of it, with the three centuries of involuntary isolation behind to really drive home the point. This, this feeling right there, was the whole reason he’d secured the lighthouse in the first place. To make space, to share space. Form the Aos si the lampade never actually got to have. “Ní ró-olc tú féin. Ná buail le Nix cosúil leatsa riamh roimhe seo.” He allowed the other nymph to inspect him. Like they were long lost family. Or someone catching the first glimpses of the full moon in all its glistening glory. Like Correy was a work of art to behold. He was certainly old enough to belong in a museum.

“Oh aye. Heard as such. It’s a right bastard sometimes, but it’s better to have that on your side than against ye.” Correy was pragmatic. He could separate the idea of his friend being awful to some, and nice enough to him. After all, at the end of the day, that’s what mattered right? He liked having the Leviathan around. It was entertaining. The sort of entertainment that’d have him laughing at the ‘misfortune’ of someone he didn’t know. Though he liked to think he might think twice if it were another fae. If he were there when it happened. “Beat death t’ough then didn’cha?” He offered, not that it would make up for the wound. “I cannae say I blame yer grudge, though. You have every right to yer anger. If it pleases ye I’ll just make sure it’s well and away if ye ever wanna visit.”

Correy led Tegan in, a gentle hand on her upper back as he guided her towards the magic happening in the kitchen. Just as the kettle was set to scream at a boil, the shadows rose again, lifting the thing and pouring out two equal servings. Another cabinet opened from within (at this point the lampade was in fact just showing off) and a few varieties of tea joined the party on the counter. “Tea first, stories second. Pick yer poison lass.”

—-

“No other nix like me. One of a kind.” Teagan spoke proudly, always finding the fae part of herself to be the most beautiful. She lacked confidence in herself, but never when it came to that beauty. But just as quickly as that smile formed, it fell, a frown taking its place at the mention of Levi. It was inescapable, but Teagan was grateful that Correy understood her ire for the demon. “Don’t want something so disrespectful on my side. Killed me and didn’t even have the decency top the deal off correctly. Now I’m stuck with the mark.” Her eyes rolled away tears and she was eager to move on, the pit in her stomach growing much too big. It was almost as if she could fall in, but she opted to land in Correy’s warm presence, and the even warmer kettle. It helped that the lampade was providing a sort of entertainment with his abilities. The kind  that came with a flair of drama that put the nix at ease as she entered the lighthouse.

Teagan made her way to the cabinet and browsed the assortment of teas and found herself almost unable to decide. Considering what the food would be, she thought Earl grey would be a safe bet for the spices in the bara brith. That was until Teagan saw her favorite lavender tea. She immediately reached for the box and pulled out a teabag to place it carefully into her cup. “Lavender is my favorite, and it’ll go great with the spices in the bread.” The elation Teagan felt at the prospect of someone new trying her baking made her grin. Light gleamed in her eyes and the joy rattled the chimes even further beneath her skin. To settle her excitement, she sat, propping her head on her hands and smiling up at Correy. “Shall I cut you a piece, love? Made it fresh not an hour ago.”

“Aye, right you are there, aye.” Correy’s eyes had a spark to them. Brighter than they’d been in ages. The closest they’d come to such pure joy was perhaps when he met Marina, but he’d been under the effect of his wish with Baz at the time. The collared leash on his emotions was useful, but it did have its downsides. The lampade couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t glad for it to be off. In fact, because of its absence he was fully able to feel just how glad it made him. And right now, he was downright giddy. Even if Teagan didn’t share his enthusiasm for the Leviathan, at least she was willing to share space that it sometimes occupied.

“D’you really expect any ot’er creature out there to honor deals and promises the way our kin do?” It was a gentle prodding question, more out of amusement than any actual expectations or wish to change her mind. More of a joke at the demon’s expense. Correy held fae in the highest regard. Well. Most of them. He wasn’t above helping a warden if the price was right. If it was amusing enough. Something nice about having so many folks in and out of the lighthouse lately, the nymph hadn’t felt the need to seek out those types of… interactions. Boredom came so infrequently now he’d all but forgotten his side hustle. “Could do somethin’ bout the mark though. Maybe make it so the beastie wears it for ye. Wouldn’t that be a sight. If ye like.” He shrugged, knowing things like this were often a tight line to tread. People got so offended by such little things, sometimes the old lampade lacked the energy to keep up.

“Oooah, Good choice. Cannae say I’ve tried these particular treats before. But love a good sweet, me.”  In truth, he was a glutton for anything with enough sugar to melt a molar. And after his little stint of ‘healing’ leaving him with little taste for anything, He was all too eager to stuff his gob. In a darkened flash, Correy was sitting in his favorite chair. Transported effortlessly through the shadows. The crow he had with him was fairly used to this trick, and it only hopped off his head after the shift had settled, then bobbled around in his lap as if waiting for its treat too.

“Aye. A slice for me n’ a crumb for the little one. Fresh butter in the icebox.” Perhaps the very best thing about meeting new fae, is how easily one could fall into a routine of acting like they’d known each other forever. Correy expected Teagan to treat this place like it was already her home, after all, in a way, it was. Home to those who needed it. For any fae lost without their own community. White Crest was far too full of them.

–

Correy brought up a reasonable point, one that the nix hadn’t really taken into account in the midst of her distaste for Levi. Shrugging a little disheartened, Teagan let out a dry chuckle and bit her lip. “I know you’re right. I guess I just hoped that if anyone were to honor deals similar to us, it’d be a demon. I was clearly…wrong.” Fact was, Teagan didn’t have much time to ponder deeper on the deal, not when she was in the middle of a crisis. Faced with death that caused a fear so powerful that it created a blockade between her and sense. She knew better now, but the cost was almost too great, and she had a lifetime to traverse through the intricacies of her actions and how she took advances too often. As if she wouldn’t be held accountable eventually.

But what luck that Teagan could be transported to a little getaway with one of the most beautiful creatures Fate had created. She leaned into it, taking that near-impossible leap to reach out and capture that moment with Correy. Hold it close and turn into multiple moments that they could get lost in. Become the glue that held each other together just as their deeply ingrained connection did. At the thought, a smile formed, slowly, turning into a giant grin on Teagan’s face. She forgot about the cost she paid. Believed there was nothing more precious or more worthy of spending her time on than her blinks of time with fae—with Correy, his beautiful shadows, and the lovely little getaway he’d managed to create just for people like them.

With a kiss to Correy’s cheek, Teagan plopped herself down onto a chair with a radiant smile, shaking her head. “No need for icebox butter. I made some of my own. The load is still a little warm still, so the butter should spread nicely.” Slicing a few pieces, she placed two on her plate and two on Correy’s. Like any fae, she was sure he loved his sugar and spices, and it seemed like his little friend was no different. “Hopefully that’s enough to start you both. Of course, have as much as you like. Oh! And I brought fresh honey from the market. For your tea” She poured her own helping in her cup, passing the jar to Correy thereafter. “Please dig in. I’d love to know your thoughts on my treat from home.”

“Ehh, I think demons are like our cosmic opposites.” The older nymph wobbled his hand between them, as if it were a scale tipping with the extra weight of something unseen. “They try to make every deal by the minimum. Intentionally try to skirt the edge of it.” Correy shrugged. “Least that’s what I understand from previous experience. S’why ye gotta be so specific and wordy with ‘em.” As if fae never had a tendency to do things by the letter and not the spirit, specifically to introduce some mischief. As if Correy himself hadn’t done essentially the same thing from time to time. He held himself and his kind in far too high esteem to actually see those faults though. If someone was making a deal with the fae, they should just know better.

The lampade accepted the kiss, leaned into it even. An observer might mistake them for old friends so used to each other's mannerisms that they rose to meet them before they really even started to show. Correy’s smile made no secrets on how he felt. For once a new person in his home wasn’t met with the careful calculations, the cold assumptions and deceptions he’d normally grace them with.

“Bread and butter, next ye’ll be tellin’ me ye’ve gotta circus in there too.” A toothy grin spread as easily across his features as the freshly made butter surely would across the warm confection his new companion brought to share. “Ahh, Miss Teagan yer makin’ me feel like a king here. This is far too decadent.” Without thank yous and the like, the courtly pleasantries one had to make were often mistakable for dismissive compliments. Even if the opposite was true. But to speak so plainly was not polite. They needed a bit of a shroud, the delicate social lace their kin were known for. “This bread belongs in the heavens. Melts like a cloud made of pure joy. Tell me, do you spoil all yer new companions as such?”

—-

“Never will be able to compare, will they? We have honor in our endeavors. A respect. Is why Fate grants us such beautiful positions in the world. We speak for her, especially those beautiful Banshees.” Teagan settled into the warmth Correy created easily, already forgetting that Levi often spent its time in the lampade’s dwelling. That was the effect being around fae, her kin, had. No one was ever truly alone in their world, and the joyful humming beneath her skin was a reminder of that. No touching was required, no utterance was either. It was simply faith in Fate.

Teagan giggled at Correy’s way of complimenting her, seeing his way of dancing around words and showing his gratitude. She admired it and wondered how long he had lived to develop such a beautiful art form through words. “Nonsense. You’re much too kind, deary. I’d do this for any of my family. We’re hardly new to each other, not really. You and I have always been part of the same cloth, woven together by our maker.” It’d been a long while since Teagan was able to connect with a new fae, and she was grateful it was someone as welcoming as Correy. “You’re a breath of fresh air. It’s like we were meant to meet today, colliding on the path so suddenly and beautifully recklessly. Can already tell this is only the first of many sweet treats we will enjoy.” She took a greedy bite of her slice and paired it with her tea in the next motion, humming happily. Happier than ever.

“Oh aye, know a few o’ those meself. One’s just a kit, the other a distant beauty.” Correy thought fondly of the pair of banshee, how different they were from each other and how wonderful that was. That fate had such curious designs for all its instruments. A symphony suite, all to play their parts. “Gotta shoot them each a message. Been too long.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he mused a little more on the subject. Maybe he’d been reminded of them right now for a reason. It was easy to run down that rabbit hole though, when you trusted fate with everything in your life. There had to be some chaos to it. Just a little. That or fate had some pretty mean ideas every once in a while.

“Well I’m glad the weave folded in such a way that our threads may share the same space.” Correy had been brushing up on his prose lately. Baz really brought it out of him. A little creative competitive streak, though he wasn’t really about to compete in something he couldn’t immediately win. The lampade agreed heartily, taking a massive bite out of his own piece of bread, perhaps a bit too much. More than the face his glamour sported should have allowed. Revealing just a hint of the bony skull that sat within the darkness of his true form. “Sláinte!” A laugh rumbled throughout his body, too big for his current form.

“So. How’d ye end up in these parts?”

—-

Teagan loved the way Correy spoke. Both his choice of words and the way it sounded like they were just old friends catching up. It made her feel free and at home, like she had always belonged in his presence. The way every fae should feel around each other. It was like she was back in her old Aos Sí. “In White Crest? Well…” The nix tilted her head from side to side, as memories flooded in, forcing her brows to furrow in mild distress. Tears threatened to form as well, but Teagan used the bread and tea to distract in the midst of gathering her spiraling thoughts.

“I was born in Wales. My siblings and I. Got—had twelve of ‘em. There’s nine of us left.” She sipped her tea some more and then continued, “My mum and a few of my siblings were murdered by a hunter when I was five. Sister got taken by the hunter. And none of our fathers were ‘round so we got everything in order and lived on our own ‘til someone noticed we weren’t comin ‘round in our Aos Sí.” At that point, Teagan’s tears couldn’t be helped, but she was a persistent one, and was ultimately determined to get through the story. “My brother—the eldest—he thought it’d be best to find our blood. They were in the states, so we moved and were raised there.”

She gripped her teacup impossibly tight and kept her eyes down, not wanting Correy to see her tears. She’d brought down the energy enough with her story, but Teagan felt like she couldn’t stop and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he’d asked or maybe it was because she’d never really gotten a chance to process due to her inability to let herself. Whatever the reason, she kept telling her story. “Went to uni and then used those skills to find my sister. Lo and behold, she was here in White Crest. We’ve reconnected and I still talk to her daily, but she’s since moved with her fiancé so they can travel and be free.” Taking a deep breath, Teagan sighed heavily and felt a weight lift, noticing how tears no longer wanted to fall. She was…happy? Yes, she was happy. Despite the odds, she made it to a place where she felt like she had everything. “Stayed ‘round because I like it here. Feels like home. Even got a partner. A werewolf. Lovely lass.”

With the pair of nymphs both being from similar spots geographically, their conversation sure had a lot more lilt to it than the average one you might happen upon in Maine. It was nice. Reminded Correy of talking with Eilidh. Of course none of them were exactly from the same spot, but it was enough to make him feel even more at home with them. Even more at ease. Allowed the old codger to soothe the bitter parts of himself and present as sweetly as he took his tea. Which, with the added honey from Miss Teagan’s basket of treats, was delectable. Like the nectar of the gods, ambrosia. Added a light floral note to the drink. One that served to give it the depth and complexity it deserved.

He listened carefully, and watched with softened eyes as her own emotions threatened to flood over. “Twelve?” Correy let out a low whistle. That had to be a lot to contend with. Worse to lose some to hunters. “Like havin’ your heart taken out while you still live.” It was quiet. Barely an audible response, barely intentional. He never had siblings, but he’d had long enough to imagine what something like that might do to a person. How he might feel if someone took one of the few folks he found himself enjoying the company of. Like Metzli, or Cass. After the rage subsided all that’d be left would be an empty hole. One that’d never really get filled. So he sympathized with the girl. It was his turn to offer a hand. Cupping her cheek to wipe away some of the tears. “Ain’t no shame in feelin’ awful ‘bout such things.”

Teagan seemed to bounce back, and Correy was all the more glad for it. It’d barely been a half an hour and he already felt a tinge of responsibility for this nix. Of camaraderie and hope for her happiness. As he did with most fae. “Oh aye?” He quipped after the mention of the ladywolf. “Good on ye there. Hard to find someone worthy of the love you give.”

—

Teagan let out a strained sigh, the breath dancing toward a chuckle that had little life. She leaned into Correy’s hand, the warmth of which grew with every moment they shared with one another. Tears wiped away and were no longer replaced thanks to the lampade’s affection, and Teagan couldn’t help but place her hand over his. “No. Never felt shameful for mourning. Such a thing is natural. What I did feel shameful for was…” For a few moments, she struggled to find the right words, opening and closing her mouth but never quite latching onto the right flow. She shrugged, and tried her best to make sense of her thoughts. “I couldn’t protect them. I mourned them, of course I did, but it didn’t feel right to be comforted or be helped through the pain. Always felt like such…such a weak and pitiful nix. Unworthy.”

Taking Correy’s hand in hers, Teagan guided them both to the table, and she held firmly onto him. Focused on the ripples of buzzing that hummed at its strongest where they touched. It helped, if only a little, to keep the nix centered and holding onto what she had. “I think it’s getting better now. I’m learning better. She’s…teaching me better.” And Patricia didn’t even know it. Likewise, Teagan didn’t know what her partner was learning, if anything. She hoped she was. The best partnerships were give and take, even the one she shared. “So, ‘nough ‘bout me, mister. Please tell me about you. Tell me stories. I want to hear it all and we’ve got plenty of treats to discuss as many as we can.”

Something even rarer than a smile flitted across the lampade’s face. Sincere concern. His brows knit close together and those icy almost white blue eyes scanned over Teagan’s features as her declaration of inadequacy caused her to retreat, if only just a little. “Ain’t nothin’ bout you that’s unworthy. Shite things happen, but it don’t make it our fault, luv.” Correy’s hand squeezed tightly where her’s met his. Sending those gentle buzzes of familial warmth wash through them both. “The trees that stand after an avalanche don’t stop givin’ shade cause their kin were felled. You don’t look at the remains of a forest after the fire and think ‘aren’t they the weak ones’. You survived somethin’ terrible. And it hurts. But you are strong. I can see it, right here.” He moved his hand, only for a moment to point right at the scar left by the Leviathan. “Your marks don’t define you, but they show the world what you're capable of endurin’.”

The nymph snorted a breathy laugh through his nose as she asked for his story. “M’ from Éire. Grew up in the days just before electricity got real popular. Though it wouldn’t make it out to the haunts I roamed probably’d stick it out a few years longer just to spite the feckers what invented it.” A fond smile curled at the cusp of his lips, even if his eyes were somewhere far away. “Actually met Macleod o’re there, though that wasn’t her name back t’en. You two know each other fairly well, yeah?” Correy wasn’t really ever told directly, but he was perceptive. Picked up on things. It was how he knew of the darling little nix in the first place.

“Couple’a spots of bother n’ I ended up here. But the lighthouse is my greatest project. Want it to be a place for our folk. One they can stop and rest at. A real beacon of hope.”

—-

Teagan nodded, taking Correy’s words to heart so they could wrap protectively around it. No one knew words like a fae, and for the first time ever, the nix was at a loss for them. A small whimper escaped the confines of her throat as the chimes rang and Correy made his gesture. She had lost so much and kept to herself for so long that she was saddened to see what she really did. Hiding and running away before she gave anyone, even herself, the chance to correct the wrongs. She made the grave mistake of letting the hunter win many battles; some he wasn’t even a part of. But no more. His mark was left on her family, but Correy was right. That only showed just how capable they were, as a whole. And it was at that moment that Teagan made a silent promise to herself to never lose again. She would love and reach out unapologetically, even more so than she already was, and never let anyone take that from her again.

Eyes lit up with wonder, knowing a lampade’s lifecycle was long, but still finding the time that Correy had lived to spark awe. Teagan was beside herself and began to grow teary for something much happier than before. Correy had seen the beginning of many things, had even met Macleod in a past life. Fates had planned for all of them to meet after all, and Teagan couldn’t help but feel so grateful for both her and Correy. He was creating a sanctuary for people that were just like her not even six months ago. What a wonderful thing, and what a wonderful fae. She wanted to consume everything he said and she needed him to continue to speak. Still listening, the nix rounded the table quickly and wrapped her arms around the lampase and uttered the most powerful and vulnerable words a fae could.

“Thank you.” Teagan began, slowly making her way to settle onto Correy’s lap so she could be close while he spoke, careful to not hurt his sweet crow. “Please, continue.” Her hand laid gently on his face and she felt so happy there, like a child she never got to be. “I just want to be close.”

For a moment he thought he was off the hook. Metaphorically of course. Teagan was being sweet, coming to sit with him like a grandchild listening to old stories by the fire. She spoke those most revered words, and all Correy could do was let the subtle wave of pressure wash over him before “And I release you.” He settled his jaw atop her head, a lilting laugh making them both bobble. The crow seemed to like this arrangement as well. It nestled into Teagan’s lap until she was in a spooky old bird sandwich. He thought he was off the hook, that she’d be sated for stories, until she asked him to continue.

A sigh rippled through the lampade, guess it was inevitable. For all the man talked, and for how full of himself he was, he never really talked about himself. He tried with Crow. He mentioned the basics to Marina and Levi. Always as little as he could get away with. Somehow, he mused, he didn’t think there’d be much the young nix would miss. Seemed like the kind who could tell when a story was supposed to start and stop.

“Ahh well. Bit more complicated than that I ‘spose.” Correy was happy for their shared position. Meant he didn’t have to look her in the eye for the next part. Meant she couldn’t see the way his face bent to the time and bounties it’d paid. “My kin, lampade. Never knew another one. Never came across one.” Should’ve been a much bigger clue into his past, not for her but him. Too much of the time before the lantern was a blur. He had bits and pieces, not a cohesive narrative. Maybe that’s why he strayed so far from telling any of it. Stories were meant to have structure. Stories were meant to have meaning. And maybe in lacking for one, he meant nothing.

“But our kind are sought after, powerful. ‘Specially by casters.”

—

A tidal wave of emotions crashed through Teagan, and she reveled in the way she was released. Each moment creating a new crack into the sky of her heart. Thundering and roaring through every chamber of her soul, consuming every bitter word despite how they overwhelmed her palette. Yes, lampades were beautiful, but their power, their very essence was the center of what made them. For people like spellcasters, they didn’t much care to learn the intricacies of what truly mattered, but people with hearts did. People who saw them for more than just their powers saw the beauty of who and what they were, and most of the time, it was only fae who could. Others couldn’t, and sometimes wouldn’t understand, but Teagan could and did. She could hear the empty spaces in the stories, and she knew that was intentional, so she tread carefully, never once expecting Correy to delve further than he wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” She muttered, swallowing and giving Correy gentle affections over his cheek as he spoke, making sure to include the little crow. To never meet another of one’s own kind was a sort of pain Teagan had never experienced, but she felt for Correy. While she couldn’t match the beauty of a lampade, of giving him what he deserved, she wanted to at least give him the complement of the buzzing of her presence. “Wicked are those who seek you like you are simple ingredients. You’re more than that.” She continued to trace patterns and dote on her two friends, smiling up at Correy, “And my sweet lad, please don’t overextend yourself. If you wish to speak of sweet nothings instead, I’d be more than happy to. Perhaps we can go on a walk? I know a very good pastry shop we can treat ourselves to.”

Without mention of thanks or bonds, she released him too, in a way. Saw his uncomfortable state and reckoned it would be better to allow him space to choose. Correy huffed a single laugh, more of a delighted exasperation if anything. Teagan seemed to feel things so freely, so openly. It was welcome but held the man hostage for his own fear of expressing himself. It emboldened him to try. He was able to now, wasn’t he? Freed from the wish, from the bindings he placed upon himself after explosive outbursts drove him to the fury, to the leash. The only chains left were mental. Hard won conditioning. Better to feel nothing than to only be fueled by rage and fire….right?

“I’ll take you up on the treats. Maybe I’ll have the energy to tell more one day. Cause there’s gonna be more of these trips. Now that I know you I don’t know if I could bear to keep ye out of me life.” His smile was sweeter now. A weight having been pulled from his shoulders, a feathery lightness took its place. “Oh dear all this talk n’ I’m still missin’ the important bits. Did I tell you bout the werewolf I secured for ye?”

—

Teagan’s pupils dilated like an excited cat at the mention of a gift Correy had secured, but she tilted her head in confusion. Her wavy locks curtained around her face and she was driven with curiosity. “How do you mean? I’ve already secured myself a werewolf in my own right.” She giggled, slipping out of Correy’s lap to ready herself for their departure, swaying her arms in a half circle back and forth. “Let’s go though. Want to make sure we can secure those delicious treats. You can tell me everything on the way there!”

[kingandfireheart]

The biggest Eris Vanserra moments from ACOTAR -ACOSF: What the fuck is happening in Autumn (Part 1)

I was originally very confused about how people seem to LOVE Eris all of a sudden, so I went back through the books to find out. SJM has definitely sprinkled the bread crumbs for some massive Eris revelations - will he have a redemption arc? does he even need to be redeemed? What are his secrets? Why did he leave Mor? Why did he protect Lucien? Why did he want to marry Nesta?

Cassian and Feyre voice doubts about Eris that really had me thinking about all of his scenes in the books:

" Beron studied his son with a scrutiny that made some small, small part of me wonder if Eris might have grown to be a good male if he’d had a different father. If one still lurked there, beneath centuries of poison. Because Eris … What had it been like for him, Under the Mountain? What games had he played— what had he endured? Trapped for forty-nine years. I doubted he would risk such a thing happening again. Even if it set him in opposition to his father—or perhaps because of that."

"You know what a monster your father is and want to usurp him; you act against him in the best interests of not only the Autumn Court but also of all of the faerie lands; you risk your life to ally with us … and yet you left her in the woods."

I went through all five books and pieced together the most telling Eris moments (they are all below the cut)

What I gained from this exercise was a few observations

Eris may have a moral compass - he curbs Beron's and his brother's bad behavior, and he stick his neck out to help in the war . He also seems to genuinely care for his soldiers. Eris pushes back against Beron, the oldest and most terrible High Lord, even when it results in punishment

Eris is playing a long game here, and it isn't limited to just him being high lord. We still don't have the full story on Mor and Lucien : what were the larger forces at play? Why did he buy Mor time? What did he show Rhys and Mor to convince them to trust him? Does he care for Lucien like a brother? Is he just a part of the schemes?

The Lady of the Autumn Court is definitely a big piece to the Autumn Court, Lucien, Helion, and Eris puzzles (Here is a list of her moments!)

See my other compilations of Character moments here: Lucien Sass, Nessian Mating Bond (Pre-ACOFAS), Cassian + Words of Affirmation (ACOSF), Lady of the Autumn Court

A Court of Thrones and Roses:

Tamlin tells Lucien's Story

"Lucien is the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.”... “The youngest of seven brothers. The Autumn Court is … cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title, not the eldest. It is the same throughout Prythian, at every court. Lucien never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords”—a faint gleam in Tamlin’s eyes at that —“and being with females who were a far cry from the nobility of the Autumn Court.” Tamlin paused for a moment, and I could almost feel the sorrow before he said, “Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline. Lucien said he didn’t care that she wasn’t one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap into place soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father’s court to his scheming brothers.”

A tight sigh. “His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch.” My stomach turned, and I pushed a hand against my chest. I couldn’t imagine, couldn’t comprehend that sort of loss. “Lucien left. He cursed his father, abandoned his title and the Autumn Court, and walked out. And without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord’s crown. Three of them went out to kill him; one came back.”

---

“As emissary,” I began, “has he ever had dealings with his father? Or his brothers?”

“Yes. His father has never apologized, and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him.” No arrogance in those words, just icy truth. “But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has.”

Under the Mountain

When Amarantha tortures Lucien for Feyre's name:

Behind them, pressing to the front of the crowd, came four tall, red-haired High Fae. Toned and muscled, some of them looking like warriors about to set foot on a battlefield, some like pretty courtiers, they all stared at Lucien—and grinned. The four remaining sons of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

---

Lucien’s brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd—no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces.

---

“Her name?” she asked Tamlin, who didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on Lucien’s brothers, as if marking who was smiling the broadest.

Amarantha ran a nail down the arm of her throne. “I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” she purred.

“If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you,” said the tallest. He was lean, well dressed, every inch of him a court-trained bastard. Probably the eldest, given the way even the ones who looked like born warriors stared at him with deference and calculation—and fear.

---

Lucien sagged on the ground, trembling. His brothers frowned—the eldest going so far as to bare his teeth at me in a silent snarl.

---

A ripple of laughter spread across those assembled behind us, the loudest from Lucien’s brothers.

When Rhysand takes Feyre to the parties at night:

Faeries and High Fae gawked as we passed through the entrance. Some bowed to Rhysand, while others gaped. I spied several of Lucien’s older brothers gathered just inside the doors. The smiles they gave me were nothing short of vulpine.

---

We reached the throne room, and I braced myself to be drugged and disgraced again. But it was Rhysand the crowd looked at—Rhysand whom Lucien’s brothers monitored. Amarantha’s clear voice rang out over the music, summoning him. He paused, glancing at Lucien’s brothers stalking toward us, their attention pinned on me. Eager, hungry—wicked. I opened my mouth, not too proud to ask Rhysand not to leave me alone with them while he dealt with Amarantha, but he put a hand on my back and nudged me along

During the second trial:

In the crowd, red hair gleamed—four heads of red hair—and I stiffened my spine. I knew his brothers would be smiling at Lucien’s predicament—but where was his mother? His father? Surely the High Lord of the Autumn Court would be present. I scanned the crowd. No sign of them

---

“Answer it!” Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes stung. The world was just a blur of letters, mocking me with their turns and shapes.

The metal groaned as it scraped against the smooth stone of the chamber, and the faeries’ whispers grew more frenzied. Through the holes in the grate, I thought I saw Lucien’s eldest brother chuckle. Hot—so unbearably hot.

---

“Just pick one!” Lucien shouted, and some of those in the crowd laughed—his brothers no doubt the loudest.

When Tamlin and Feyre make out in the closet:

“You’re both fools,” he murmured, his breathing uneven. “How did you not think that someone would notice you were gone? You should thank the Cauldron Lucien’s delightful brothers weren’t watching you.

After Feyre breaks the curse:

The Attor and the nastier faeries had disappeared instantly, along with Lucien’s brothers, which was a clever move, as Lucien wasn’t the only faerie with a score to settle

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Court of Mist and Fury:

Lucien telling Feyre about Jesminda:

“Even if I what?”

His face paled, and he stroked a hand down the mare’s cobweb-colored mane. “I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”

Rhys tells Mor's story:

His throat bobbed. I could tell it was rage, and pain, that kept him from telling me outright—not mistrust. After a moment, he said, “I was there, in the Hewn City, the day her father declared she was to be sold in marriage to Eris, eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” Lucien’s brother. “Eris had a reputation for cruelty, and Mor … begged me not to let it happen. For all her power, all her wildness, she had no voice, no rights with those people. And my father didn’t particularly care if his cousins used their offspring as breeding stock.”

“What happened?” I breathed.

“I brought Mor to the Illyrian camp for a few days. And she saw Cassian, and decided she’d do the one thing that would ruin her value to these people. I didn’t know until after, and … it was a mess. With Cassian, with her, with our families. And it’s another long story, but the short of it is that Eris refused to marry her. Said she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow. Her family … they … ” I’d never seen him at such a loss for words. Rhys cleared his throat. “When they were done, they dumped her on the Autumn Court border, with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem.”

Nailed—nailed to her.

Rhys said with soft wrath, “Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods. Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.” I thought of that merry face, the flippant laughter, the female that did not care who approved. Perhaps because she had seen the ugliest her kind had to offer. And had survived.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Court of Wings and Ruin:

Lucien tells his story:

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

Despite myself, a shudder rippled down my spine. I finished off the apple and uncoiled to my feet, plucking another off a low-hanging branch. “Would you want it—your father’s crown?”

“No one’s ever asked me that,” Lucien mused as we moved on, dodging fallen, rotting apples. The air was sticky-sweet. “The bloodshed that would be required to earn that crown wouldn’t be worth it. Neither would its festering court. I’d gain a crown—only to rule over a crafty, two-faced people.”

Lucien+Feyre vs. Autumn Court Brothers:

“Father,” the one now holding a knife to my throat said to Lucien, “is rather put out that you didn’t stop by to say hello.”

“We’re on an errand and can’t be delayed,” Lucien answered smoothly, mastering himself.

That knife pressed a fraction harder into my skin as he let out a humorless laugh. “Right. Rumor has it you two have run off together, cuckolding Tamlin.” His grin widened. “I didn’t think you had it in you, little brother.”

“He had it in her, it seems,” one of the others sniggered.

I slid my gaze to the male above me. “You will release us.”

“Our esteemed father wishes to see you,” he said with a snake’s smile. The knife didn’t waver. “So you will come with us to his home.” “Eris,” Lucien warned. The name clanged through me. Above me, mere inches away … Mor’s former betrothed. The male who had abandoned her when he found her brutalized body on the border. The High Lord’s heir.

---

“This can end with you going under, begging me to get you out once that ice instantly refreezes,” Eris drawled. Behind him, cut off by his brothers, Lucien had drawn his own knife and now sized up the other two. “Or this can end with you agreeing to take my hand. But either way, you will be coming with me.”

---

Glaring—then considering. Watching the three of us as I said to Eris, to his other two brothers, to the sentries on the shore, “You all deserve to die for this. And for much, much more. But I am going to spare your miserable lives.”

Even with a wound through his gut, Eris’s lip curled.

Cassian snarled his warning.

I only removed the glamour I’d kept on myself these weeks. With the sleeve of my jacket and shirt gone, there was nothing but smooth skin where that wound had been. Smooth skin that now became adorned with swirls and whorls of ink. The markings of my new title—and my mating bond.

Lucien’s face drained of color as he strode for us, stopping a healthy distance from Azriel’s side. “I am High Lady of the Night Court,” I said quietly to them all.

Even Eris stopped sneering. His amber eyes widened, something like fear now creeping into them.

Lucien advises the Inner Circle:

Lucien studied me again, and it was an effort not to squirm. “My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you.”

A snarl from Rhys.

“Your brothers saw me, though,” I said, setting down my fork. “Perhaps they could mistake the flame as yours, but the ice …”

Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather. What my father knows —if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly.”

Mor said, “Eris might keep that information to himself and convince the others to as well, if he thinks it’ll be more useful that way.” I wondered if Mor looked at that red hair, the golden-brown skin that was a few shades darker than his brothers’, and still saw Eris.

Lucien said evenly, “Perhaps. But we need to find that out. If Beron or Eris has that information, they’ll use it to their advantage in that meeting—to control it. Or control you. Or they might not show up at all, and instead go right to Hybern.”

Eris in the Hewn City:

If the Ouroboros could not be retrieved, at least without such terrible risk … I shut out the thought, sealing it away for later, as Keir left. Leaving us alone with Eris.

The heir of Autumn just sipped his wine.

And I had the terrible sense that Mor had gone somewhere far, far away as Eris set down his goblet and said, “You look well, Mor.”

“You don’t speak to her,” Azriel said softly.

Eris gave a bitter smile. “I see you’re still holding a grudge.”

“This arrangement, Eris,” Rhys said, “relies solely upon you keeping your mouth shut.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “And haven’t I done an excellent job? Not even my father suspected when I left tonight.”

I glanced between my mate and Eris. “How did this come about?”

Eris looked me over. The crown and dress. “You didn’t think that I knew your shadowsinger would come sniffing around to see if I’d told my father about your … powers? Especially after my brothers so mysteriously forgot about them, too. I knew it was a matter of time before one of you arrived to take care of my memory as well.” Eris tapped the side of his head with a long finger. “Too bad for you, I learned a thing or two about daemati. Too bad for my brothers that I never bothered to teach them.”

---

“Of course I didn’t tell my father,” Eris went on, drinking from his wine again. “Why waste that sort of information on the bastard? His answer would be to hunt you down and kill you—not realizing how much shit we’re in with Hybern and that you might be the key to stopping it.”

“So he plans to join us, then,” Rhys said.

“Not if he learns about your little secret.” Eris smirked. Mor blinked—as if realizing that Rhys’s contact with Eris, his invitation here … The glance she gave me, clear and settled, told me enough. Hurt and anger still swirled, but understanding, too.

“So what’s the asking price, Eris?” Mor demanded, leaning her bare arms on the dark glass. “Another little bride for you to torture?”

Something flickered in Eris’s eyes. “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan,” he said with vicious calm. “Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.” A sneer at Azriel.

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?”

Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

Silence.

“Indulge me,” was all I said.

Eris stared me down. I stared right back.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there—when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”

Where two of Eris’s brothers had been killed. By Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket. “Not all of us were so lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

Rhys’s face was a mask of boredom. “It would seem so.”

And none of this entirely erased what he’d done, but … “What is the asking price,” I repeated.

“The same thing I told Azriel when I found him snooping through my father’s woods yesterday.”

Hurt flared in Mor’s eyes as she whipped her head toward the shadowsinger. But Azriel didn’t so much as acknowledge her as he announced, “When the time comes … we are to support Eris’s bid to take the throne.”

Even as Azriel spoke, that frozen rage dulled his face. And Eris was wise enough to finally pale at the sight. Perhaps that was why Eris had kept knowledge of my powers to himself. Not just for this sort of bargaining, but to avoid the wrath of the shadowsinger. The blade at his side.

“The request still stands, Rhysand,” Eris said, mastering himself, “to just kill my father and be done with it. I can pledge troops right now.”

Mother above. He didn’t even try to hide it—to look at all remorseful. It was an effort to keep my jaw from dropping to the table at his intent, the casualness with which he spoke it.

“Tempting, but too messy,” Rhys replied. “Beron sided with us in the War. Hopefully he’ll sway that way again.” A pointed stare at Eris.

“He will,” Eris promised, running a finger over one of the claw marks gouged into the table. “And will remain blissfully unaware of Feyre’s … gifts.” A throne—in exchange for his silence. And sway.

“Promise Keir nothing you care about,” Rhys said, waving a hand in dismissal.

Eris just rose to his feet. “We’ll see.” A frown at Mor as he drained his wine and set down the goblet. “I’m surprised you still can’t control yourself around him. You had every emotion written right on that pretty face of yours.”

“Watch it,” Azriel warned.

Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mor said quietly. She pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Eris gave a mocking bow to her. To all of us. “See you at the meeting in twelve days.”

Inner Circle Reacts to Eris Alliance:

Mor whirled on Azriel. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Azriel held her gaze unflinchingly. Didn’t so much as rustle his wings. “Because you would have tried to stop it. And we can’t afford to lose Keir’s alliance—and face the threat of Eris.”

“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”

Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”

Perhaps Rhys had not filled him in on everything, then. On what Eris had claimed about saving his youngest brother in whatever way he could. Of his defiance.

“Your whole family is despicable,” Amren said to Lucien from where she and Nesta lingered in the archway. “But Eris may prove a better alternative. If he can find a way to kill Beron off and make sure the power shifts to himself.”

“I’m sure he will,” Lucien said.

High Lord's Meeting

(the highlights - there's a lot of Beron, Eris, and Helion to piece together here)

Beron—slender-faced and brown-haired—didn’t bother to look anywhere but at the High Lords assembled. But his remaining sons sneered at us. Sneered enough that the Peregryns ruffled their feathers. Even Varian flashed his teeth in warning at the leer Cresseida earned from one of them. Their father didn’t bother to check them.

But Eris did.

A step behind his father, Eris murmured, “Enough,” and his younger brothers fell into line. All three of them.

Whether Beron noticed or cared, he did not let on. No, he merely stopped halfway across the room, hands folded before him, and scowled—as if we were a pack of mongrels.

Beron, the oldest among us. The most awful.

Rhys smoothly greeted him, though his power was a dark mountain shuddering beneath us, “It’s no surprise that you’re tardy, given that your own sons were too slow to catch my mate. I suppose it runs in the family.”

Beron’s lips curled slightly as he looked to me, my crown. “Mate—and High Lady.”

I leveled a flat, bored stare at him. Turned it on his hateful sons. On—Eris.

Eris only smiled at me, amused and aloof. Would he wear that mask when he ended his father’s life and stole his throne?

---

Tamlin only angled his head at Rhys. “When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?”

Heat stained my cheeks. This wasn’t outright battle, but a steady, careful shredding of my dignity, my credibility. Beron beamed, delighted—while Eris carefully monitored.

---

Rhys went on, “I … convinced her that it would serve little purpose.” “Who knew,” Beron mused, “that a cock could be so persuasive?”

“Father.” Eris’s voice was low with warning.

For Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and I had fixed our gazes upon Beron. And none of us were smiling. Perhaps Eris would be High Lord sooner than he planned.

---

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

--

But Beron said, “You may be inclined to believe him, Rhysand, but as someone who shares a border with his court, I am not so easily swayed.” A wry look. “Perhaps my errant son can clarify. Pray, where is he?”

Even Tamlin looked toward us—toward me.

“Helping to guard our city,” was all I said. Not a lie, not entirely.

Eris snorted and surveyed Nesta, who stared back at him with steel in her face. “Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.”

If they knew Elain was Lucien’s mate … It was now another avenue, I realized with no small amount of horror. Another way to strike at the youngest brother they hated so fiercely, so unreasonably. Eris’s bargain with us had not included protection of Lucien. My mouth went dry.

But Mor replied smoothly, “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.”

Eris’s mouth curled into a smile at the words, the careful game of pretending that they had not seen each other in years. “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.

---

Only Eris knew how far that alliance went—information that could damn this meeting if either side revealed it. Information that could get him wiped off the earth by his father.

Mor was staring and staring at Azriel, who refused to look at her, who refused to do anything but give Eris that death-gaze.

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

---

Beron’s face darkened. “Watch your tone, girl.”

“She doesn’t have to watch anything,” I cut in. “Not when you fling that sort of horseshit at her.” I looked to the alchemist. “I will take your antidote.”

Beron rolled his eyes.

But Eris said, “Father.”

Beron lifted a brow. “You have something to add?”

Eris didn’t flinch, but he seemed to choose his words very, very carefully. “I have seen the effects of faebane.” He nodded toward me. “It truly renders us unable to tap our power. If it’s wielded against us in war or beyond it—”

“If it is, we shall face it. I will not risk my people or family in testing out a theory.”

“It is no theory,” Nuan said, that mechanical hand clicking and whirring as it curled into a fist. “I would not stand here unless it had been proved without a doubt.”

A female of pride and hard work.

Eris said, “I will take it.”

It was the most … decent I’d ever heard him sound. Even Mor blinked at it.

Beron studied his son with a scrutiny that made some small, small part of me wonder if Eris might have grown to be a good male if he’d had a different father. If one still lurked there, beneath centuries of poison.

Because Eris … What had it been like for him, Under the Mountain? What games had he played— what had he endured? Trapped for forty-nine years. I doubted he would risk such a thing happening again. Even if it set him in opposition to his father—or perhaps because of that.

Beron only said, “No, you will not. Though I’m sure your brothers will be sorry to hear it.” Indeed, the others seemed rather put-out that their first barrier to the throne wasn’t about to risk his life in testing Nuan’s solution.

---

Rhys lifted a brow. “Your staggering generosity aside, will you be joining our forces?”

“I have not yet decided.”

Eris went so far as to give his father a look bordering on reproach. From genuine alarm or for what that refusal might mean for our own covert alliance, I couldn’t tell.

---

This argument was pointless. And I didn’t care who they were or who I was as I said to Beron, “Get out if you’re not going to be helpful.”

At his side, Eris had the wits to actually look worried.

But Beron continued to ignore his son’s pointed stare and hissed at me, “Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain?”

I didn’t deign responding.

“Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment?”

---

Beron shot to his feet, not bothering to brush off the dust, and declared to no one in particular, “This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.”

But Nesta rose from her chair. “This meeting is not over.”

Even Beron paused at her tone. Eris sized up the space between my sister and his father.

She stood tall, a pillar of steel. “You are all there is,” she said to Beron, to all of us. “You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.” She settled her stare on Beron, unflinching and fierce.

“You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?” Beron did not deign to answer. But he did not leave. Eris subtly motioned his brothers to sit. Nesta marked the gesture—hesitated. As if realizing she indeed held their complete attention. That every word mattered.

---

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

I didn’t have the words in me—to convey what was in my heart. Cassian seemed the same.

Beron only said, “I shall consider it.”

A look at his family, and they vanished. Eris was the last to winnow, something conflicted dancing over his face, as if this was not the outcome he’d planned for.

Expected.

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

Helion began asking why we wanted to know, what Hybern was doing with the Cauldron … and Rhys fed him answers, easily and smoothly.

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

The War:

Out of a rip in the world, Eris appeared atop our knoll, clad head to toe in silver armor, a red cape spilling from his shoulders. Rhys snarled a warning, too far gone in his power to bother controlling himself.

Eris just rested a hand on the pommel of his fine sword and said, “We thought you might need some help.”

---

But Beron. Beron had come. Eris registered our shock at that, too, and said, “Tamlin made him. Dragged my father out by his neck.” A half smile. “It was delightful.

---

Rhys’s voice was rough—low. “And what of your father?”

“We’re taking care of a problem,” was all Eris said, and pointed toward his father’s army. For those were his brothers approaching the front line, winnowing in bursts through the host. Right past the front lines and to the enemy wagons scattered throughout Hybern’s ranks.

The Final Meeting:

Eris was bruised and cut up enough to indicate he must have been in terrible shape after the fighting ceased yesterday, sporting a brutal slice down his cheek and neck—barely healed. Mor let out a satisfied grunt at the sight of it—or perhaps a sound of disappointment that the wound had not been fatal.

Eris continued by as if he hadn’t heard it, but didn’t sneer at least. Rather—he just nodded at Rhys. It was silent promise enough: soon. Soon, perhaps, Eris would finally take what he desired—and call in our debt.

We did not bother to nod back. None of us.

Especially not Lucien, who continued dutifully ignoring his eldest brother. But as Eris strode by … I could have sworn there was something like sadness—like regret, as he glanced to Lucien.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Court of Frost and Starlight:

Mor's Flashback (TW: physical abuse, violence)

But the Autumn Court male standing beside Keir … Mor made herself look at Eris. Into his amber eyes.

Colder than any hall of Kallias’s court. They had been that way from the moment she’d met him, five centuries ago.

Eris laid a pale hand on the breast of his pewter-colored jacket, the portrait of Autumn Court gallantry. “I thought I’d extend some Solstice greetings of my own.”

That voice. That silky, arrogant voice. It had not altered, not in tone or timbre, in the passing centuries, either. Had not changed since that day.

Warm, buttery sunlight through the leaves, setting them glowing like rubies and citrines. The damp, earthen scent of rotting things beneath the leaves and roots she lay upon. Had been thrown and left upon.

Everything hurt. Everything. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but watch the sun drift through the rich canopy far overhead, listen to the wind between the silvery trunks.

And the center of that pain, radiating outward like living fire with each uneven, rasping breath …

Light, steady steps crunched on the leaves. Six sets. A border guard, a patrol.

Help. Someone to help—

A male voice, foreign and deep, swore. Then went silent.

Went silent as a single pair of steps approached. She couldn’t turn her head, couldn’t bear the agony. Could do nothing but inhale each wet, shuddering breath.

“Don’t touch her.”

Those steps stopped.

It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.

She knew the voice that spoke. Had dreaded hearing it. She felt him approach now. Felt each reverberation in the leaves, the moss, the roots. As if the very land shuddered before him.

“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.”

Cold, unfeeling words.

“But—but they nailed a—”

“No one touches her.”

...

She began shaking, hating it as much as she’d hated the begging. Her body bellowed in agony, those nails in her abdomen relentless.

A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

She would rather die here, bleed out here. She would rather die and return— return as something wicked and cruel, and shred them all apart.

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

Eris straightened, turning. Her fingers curled in the leaves and loamy soil.

She wished she could grow claws—grow claws as Rhys could—and rip out that pale throat. But that was not her gift. Her gift … her gift had left her here. Broken and bleeding.

Eris took a step away.

Someone behind him blurted, “We can’t just leave her to—”

“We can, and we will,” Eris said simply, his pace unfaltering as he strode away. “She chose to sully herself; her family chose to deal with her like garbage. I have already told them my decision in this matter.” A long pause, crueler than the rest. “And I am not in the habit of fucking Illyrian leftovers.”

She couldn’t stop it, then. The tears that slid out, hot and burning. Alone. They would leave her alone here. Her friends did not know where she had gone. She barely knew where she was.

“But—” That dissenting voice cut in again.

“Move out.”

There was no dissension after that.

And when their steps faded away, then vanished, the silence returned.

The sun and the wind and the leaves.

The blood and the iron and the soil beneath her nails.

The pain.

Eris in the Hewn City:

“I would suggest reminding Beron that territory expansion is not on the table. For any court.”

Eris wasn’t fazed. Nothing had ever disturbed him, ruffled him. Mor had hated it from the moment she’d met him—that distance, that coldness. That lack of interest or feeling for the world. “Then I would suggest to you, High Lord, that you speak to your dear friend Tamlin about it.”

“Why.” Feyre’s question was sharp as a blade.

Eris’s mouth curved in an adder’s smile. “Because Tamlin’s territory is the only one that borders the human lands. I’d think that anyone looking to expand would have to go through the Spring Court first. Or at least obtain his permission.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Court of Silver Flames:

Mor meets with Cassian:

“Eris bought me time.” Her words were laced with acid.

Cassian had tried not to believe it, but he knew Eris had done it as a gesture of good faith. He’d invited Rhysand into his mind to see exactly why he’d convinced Keir to indefinitely delay his visit to Velaris. Only Eris had that sort of sway with the power-hungry Keir, and whatever Eris had offered Keir in exchange for not coming here was still a mystery. At least to Cassian. Rhys probably knew. From Mor’s pale face, he wondered if she knew, too. Eris must have sacrificed something big to spare Mor from her father’s visit, which would have likely been timed for a moment that would maximize tormenting her.

Cassian meets with the Band of Exiles + Eris:

Lucien’s gold eye clicked, reading Cassian’s rage while warning flashed in his remaining russet eye.

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

---

Eris was their ally. Rhys had bargained with him, worked with him. Eris had held up his end at every turn. Rhys trusted him. Mor, despite all that had happened, trusted him. Sort of. So Cassian supposed he should do so as well.

---

Eris snorted again at Cassian’s fumbling, and, unable to help himself, Cassian at last turned toward him. “What are you doing here?”

Eris didn’t so much as shift in his seat. “Several dozen of my soldiers were out on patrol in my lands several days ago and have not reported back. We found no sign of battle. Even my hounds couldn’t track them beyond their last known location.”

Cassian’s brows lowered. He knew he shouldn’t let anything show, but … Those hounds were the best in Prythian. Canines blessed with magic of their own. Gray and sleek like smoke, they could race fast as the wind, sniff out any prey. They were so highly prized that the Autumn Court forbade them from being given or sold beyond its borders, and so expensive that only its nobility owned them. And they were bred rarely enough that even one was extremely difficult to come by. Eris, Cassian knew, had twelve.

“None of them could winnow?” Cassian asked.

“No. While the unit is one of my most skilled in combat, none of its soldiers are remarkable in magic or breeding.”

Breeding was tossed at Cassian with a smirk. Asshole.

But Eris shrugged a shoulder. “I think plenty of parties are interested in triggering another war, and this would be the start of it. Though perhaps your court did it. I wouldn’t put it past Rhysand to winnow my soldiers away and plant some mysterious scents to throw us off.”

---

Eris’s long red hair ruffled in the wind. “Whatever it is you’re doing, whatever it is you’re looking into, I want in.”

“Why? And no.”

“Because I need the edge Briallyn has, what Koschei has told her or shown her.”

“To overthrow your father.”

“Because my father has already pledged his forces to Briallyn and the war she wishes to incite.”

Cassian started. “What?”

“Explain what the fuck you mean by Beron pledging his forces to Briallyn.”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. He caught wind of her ambitions, and went to her palace a month ago to meet with her. I stayed here, but I sent my best soldiers with him.” Cassian refrained from sniping about Eris opting out, especially as the last words settled.

“Those wouldn’t happen to be the same soldiers who went missing, would they?”

Eris nodded gravely. “They returned with my father, but they were �� off. Aloof and strange. They vanished soon after—and my hounds confirmed that the scents at the scene are the same as those on gifts Briallyn sent to curry my father’s favor.”

---

“What does Beron say?”

“He is unaware of it. You know where I stand with my father. And this unholy alliance he’s struck with Briallyn will only hurt us. All of us. It will turn into a Fae war for control. So I want to find answers on my own—rather than what my father tries to feed me.”

Cassian surveyed the male, his grim face. “So we take out your father.”

Eris snorted, and Cassian bristled. “I am the only person my father has told of his new allegiance. If the Night Court moves, it will expose me.”

“So your worry about Briallyn’s alliance with Beron is about what it means for you, rather than the rest of us.”

“I only wish to defend the Autumn Court against its worst enemies.”

“Why would I work with you on this?”

“Because we are indeed allies.” Eris’s smile became lupine. “And because I do not believe your High Lord would wish me to go to other territories and ask them to help with Briallyn and Koschei. To help them remember that all it might take to secure Briallyn’s alliance would be to hand over a certain Archeron sister. Don’t be stupid enough to believe my father hasn’t thought of that, too.”

The Inner Circle Assigning Cassian to Eris:

And then Cassian had been slapped with a new order: keep an eye on Eris. Beyond the fact that he approached you, Rhys had said, you are my general. Eris commands Beron’s forces. Be in communication with him. Cassian had started to object, but Rhys had directed a pointed look at Azriel, and Cassian had caved. Az had too much on his plate already. Cassian could deal with that piece of shit Eris on his own.

Eris wants to avoid a war that would expose him, Feyre had guessed. If Beron sides with Briallyn, Eris would be forced to choose between his father and Prythian. The careful balance he’s struck by playing both sides would crumble. He wants to act when it’s convenient for his plans. This threatens that.

Eris meets with Rhys and Cassian:

“You’ve turned into quite the little traitor,” Rhys said, stars winking out in his eyes.

“I told you years ago what I wanted, High Lord,” Eris said.

To seize his father’s throne. “Why?” Cassian asked.

Eris grasped what he meant, apparently, because flame sizzled in his eyes. “For the same reason I left Morrigan untouched at the border.”

“You left her there to suffer and die,” Cassian spat. His Siphons flickered, and all he could see was the male’s pretty face, all he could feel was his own fist, aching to make contact.

Eris sneered. “Did I? Perhaps you should ask Morrigan whether that is true. I think she finally knows the answer.” Cassian’s head spun, and the relentless itching resumed, like fingers trailing along his spine, his legs, his scalp. Eris added before winnowing away, “Tell me when the shadowsinger returns.”

Eris meets with Cassian and Nesta:

“The Dread Trove,” Eris mused, surveying the heavy gray sky that threatened snow. “I’ve never heard of such items. Though it does not surprise me.”

“Does your father know of them?” The Steppes weren’t neutral ground, but they were empty enough that Eris had finally deigned to accept Cassian’s request to meet here. After taking days to reply to his message.

“No, thank the Mother,” Eris said, crossing his arms. “He would have told me if he did. But if the Trove has a sentience like you suggested, if it wants to be found … I fear that it might also be reaching out to others as well. Not just Briallyn and Koschei.”

Beron in possession of the Trove would be a disaster. He’d join the ranks of the King of Hybern. Could become something terrible and deathless like Lanthys. “So Briallyn failed to inform Beron about her quest for the Trove when he visited her?”

“Apparently, she doesn’t trust him, either,” Eris said, face full of contemplation. “I’ll need to think on that.”

“Don’t tell him about it,” Cassian warned.

Eris shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I’m not going to tell him a damned thing. But the fact that Briallyn is actively hiding her larger plans from him …” He nodded, more to himself. “Is this why Morrigan is back in Vallahan? To learn if they know about the Trove?”

---

Cassian grimaced. “Technically, Azriel and I did. Your soldiers were enchanted by Queen Briallyn and Koschei to be mindless killers. They attacked us in the Bog of Oorid, and we were left with no choice but to kill them.”

“And yet two survived. How convenient. I assume they received Azriel’s particular brand of interrogation?” Eris’s voice dripped disdain.

“We could only manage to contain two,” Cassian said tightly. “Under Briallyn’s influence, they were practically rabid.”

“Let’s not lie to ourselves. You only bothered to contain two, by the time your brute bloodlust ebbed away.”

Eris snorted. “There were certainly more than that, and you could have easily spared more than two. But I don’t know why I’d expect someone like you to have done any better.”

---

“Did you even try to spare the others, or did you just launch right into a massacre?” Eris seethed.

---

Nesta took one step closer to Eris. “Your soldiers shot an ash arrow through one of Azriel’s wings.”

Eris’s teeth flashed. “And did you join in this massacre, too?”

“No,” she said frankly. “But I wonder: Did Briallyn arm the soldiers with those ash arrows, or did they come from your private armory?”

Eris blinked, the only confirmation required. “Such weapons are banned, aren’t they?” she asked Cassian, whose features remained taut. The conflagration within her burned hotter, higher. She returned her attention to Eris. If he could toy with Cassian, then she’d return the favor. “Who were you storing those arrows for?” she mused. “Enemies abroad?” She smiled slightly. “Or an enemy at home?”

Eris held her stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nesta’s smile didn’t waver. “Would an ash arrow through the heart kill a High Lord?”

Eris’s face paled. “You’re wasting my time.”

Eris and Nesta dance:

"Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Oh?”

Eris nodded to where Mor watched them from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. “She knows the truth but has never revealed it.”

“Why?”

“Because she is afraid of it.”

“You don’t win yourself any favors with your behavior.”

“Don’t I? Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?” He spun her again. “They believe a version of events that is easier to swallow. I always thought Rhysand wiser than that, but he tends to be blind where those he loves are concerned.”

---

Cassian could only stare at Eris’s throat, pondering whether to strangle him or slit the skin wide open. Let him bleed out on the floor.

“That’s not my decision,” Rhys said calmly to Eris. “And it seems foolish for you to offer me anything I want in exchange for her, anyway.”

His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”

From the shadows in his eyes, Cassian knew something more lay beneath the rash offer. Something that even Az’s spies hadn’t picked up on at the Autumn Court. All it would take was one push of Rhys’s power into his mind and they’d know, but … it went against everything they stood for, at least amongst their allies. Rhys demanded their trust; he had to give it in return. Cassian couldn’t fault his brother for that.

Eris added, “It is a bonus, of course, that in doing so, I would be repaying Cassian for ruining my betrothal to Morrigan.”

---

Again, Rhys’s lips twitched. So bloodthirsty, Cassian heard his High Lord croon to his mate. But Rhys said, “Anything I want, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me in exchange for Nesta Archeron as your wife?”

Cassian growled low in his throat. His brother was letting this carry on too far.

Eris glared. “Not as far as the firstborn, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against Briallyn and my father, you’ll have them.” His lips curved upward. “I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?”

Eris, Cassian, and Nesta meet (the last time before the Rite)

Cassian only gave her an amused wink before continuing, “Your letter seemed to imply that your father was making a move. Out with it.”

“My father went to the continent again last week. He came back seeming normal, without the glassy-eyed aloofness my soldiers displayed. He did not invite me to accompany him, or explain what he discussed with Briallyn. I can only assume the fallout is approaching, though, and wanted to warn you. It was not something I could risk putting in writing. But for now … for now, it seems as if the world is holding its breath.”

---

“That’s absurd,” Nesta snapped. “What do we have to gain?”

Red flame sizzled in Eris’s eyes. “What did the King of Hybern have to gain by attaining the Cauldron and invading our lands?”

“We have no interest in conquest, Eris,” Cassian said, crossing his arms. “You know that. And we’re not going to use the Trove.”

Eris barked a laugh. Nesta could see that he didn’t believe them—that he was so used to the twisted politics and scheming of his court that even when the simple, easy truth was offered, he could not see it. “I find myself not entirely comfortable with your court possessing two items in the Trove.” His gaze shifted to Nesta. “Especially when you have so many other weapons in your arsenal.”

---

Eris picked at a piece of lint on his jacket. At his side hung the dagger Rhys and Feyre had gifted him, simple and plain compared to the finery on him. Her dagger. “You’d be truly stupid to go after Briallyn directly.”

“Leave the heroics to the brutes, Eris,” Cassian said. “Wouldn’t want to risk cutting up those pretty hands.”

Eris’s fingers curled slightly on his biceps. Nesta reined in her smile. Cassian’s words had found their mark.

---

Eris only said, “If you fail in retrieving the Crown, you risk Briallyn using it upon you. She could turn you on each other. Make you do unspeakable things. Even reveal to her where the other two objects are. And you’d have no choice but to tell her everything.” He worried about them revealing their alliance—for his own sake. “You threaten to expose us. Do not pursue the Crown.”

---

Eris glowered. “Has this been the plan the whole time? To string me along, make me an enemy of my father, then use the Trove against all of us?”

“You made yourself an enemy of your father,” Cassian said, smiling faintly. “When he finds out, I wonder if he’ll let your hounds rip you to shreds, or if he’ll do it himself.”

Eris paled slightly. “Don’t you mean if he finds out?”

Cassian said nothing. Kept his face neutral. Nesta stifled her smugness and did the same.

Eris observed them. For the first time since Nesta had known the male, uncertainty banked the fire in his gaze.

And then he turned toward the other subject in his letter, facing Nesta before he asked, “And my offer for you?” Not one ounce of affection or longing laced his words.

Nesta lifted her chin, smirking at last. “I suppose once we have the Crown in our hands, the Night Court won’t need you after all. Neither will I.”

She could have sworn Cassian was repressing a laugh, but she kept her gaze on Eris, who went rigid, rippling with rage. “I do not appreciate being toyed with, Nesta Archeron. My offer was sincere. Stay with the Night Court and you risk your ruin.”

Cassian cut in smoothly, “Try to fuck us over, Eris, and you risk yours.”

Eris’s upper lip curled. “Do whatever you want.” He straightened, as if shaking off any emotion, face going cold and cruel again. “It’s your lives you gamble with, not mine.” He chuckled, nodding to Cassian. “So what if the world loses another brute to war? Good riddance.”

Eris getting kidnapped and ensnared by the Crown:

Azriel said tightly, “My spies got word that Eris has been captured by Briallyn. She sent his remaining soldiers after him while he was out hunting with his hounds. They grabbed him and somehow, they were all winnowed back to her palace. I’m guessing using Koschei’s power.”

---

I had to use that brash princeling Eris to draw him in.” A soft laugh. “Eris tried to help his soldiers when they surrounded him during his hunt. Help those wretches. He rode right up to them, rather than gallop away as any wise person would. They grabbed him with minimal fuss. Even those infernal hounds of his could do nothing as Koschei winnowed him away.”

Eris might be a good male?

Eris went on, “Always mix truth and lies, General. Didn’t those warrior-brutes teach you about how to withstand an enemy’s torture?”

Cassian knew. He’d been tortured and interrogated and never once broken. “Beron tortured you?”

Eris rose, tucking his book under an arm. “Who cares what my father does to me? He believed my story about the shadowsinger’s spies informing him that a valuable asset had been kidnapped by Briallyn, and that you lot were disgusted to arrive and find it was me, rather than someone from the Summer or Winter Courts or whoever stoops to associate with you.”

Cassian unpacked each word. Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. But Eris had held out. Fed Beron another lie.

And then there was the way Eris had spoken about the other courts. Something had been off in his words, his tight expression. Was the male jealous?

Cassian opened his mouth, more than ready to launch that question at him and bestow a stinging blow.

Yet he hesitated. Looked into Eris’s eyes.

The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege—on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him? Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien’s lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn’t he do?

“Get that pitying look off your face,” Eris snarled softly. “I know what sort of creature my father is. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Cassian again studied him. “Why did you leave Mor in the woods that day?” It was the question that would always remain. “Was it just to impress your father?”

Eris barked a laugh, harsh and empty. “Why does it still matter to all of you so much?”

“Because she’s my sister, and I love her.”

“I didn’t realize Illyrians were in the habit of fucking their sisters.”

Cassian growled. “It still matters,” he ground out, “because it doesn’t add up. You know what a monster your father is and want to usurp him; you act against him in the best interests of not only the Autumn Court but also of all of the faerie lands; you risk your life to ally with us … and yet you left her in the woods. Is it guilt that motivates all of this? Because you left her to suffer and die?”

Golden flame simmered in Eris’s gaze. “I didn’t realize I’d be facing another interrogation so soon.”

“Give me a damn answer.”

Eris crossed his arms, then winced. As if whatever injuries lay beneath his immaculate clothes ached. “You’re not the person I want to explain myself to.”

“I doubt Mor will want to listen.”

“Maybe not.” Eris shifted on his feet, and grimaced again. “But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.”

----

Eris was still their ally. Was willing to be tortured to keep their secrets. And Cassian didn’t need to be a courtier to know his next words would slice deep, but it would be a necessary wound. Perhaps it would be enough to push things in the right direction.

---

“You know, Eris,” he said, a hand wrapping around the doorknob. “I think you might be a decent male, deep down, trapped in a terrible situation.” He looked over his shoulder and found Eris’s gaze blazing again. But only pity stirred in his chest, pity for a male who had been born into riches, but had been destitute in every way that truly mattered. In every way that Cassian had been blessed—blessings that were now overflowing.

So Cassian said, “I grew up surrounded by monsters. I’ve spent my existence fighting them. And I see you, Eris. You’re not one of them. Not even close. I think you might even be a good male.” Cassian opened the door, turning from Eris’s curled lip. “You’re just too much of a coward to act like one.”

[everlarkficexchange]

Everlark Fic Exchange. PROMPTS

Springtime Edition 2021.

These are the prompts we’ve received so far.

Crossed out prompts have already been selected and are being turned into fics!

A huge ‘Thank you’ to everyone who’s taken the time to come up with an idea and send it our way. Your prompts are the heart of the Exchange. Without them, our authors wouldn’t get to write all those beautiful fics. So, please, keep them coming!

You haven’t sent anything yet? Don’t worry, there’s still time. We’ll be receiving prompts until March 7.  Don’t be afraid to inspire us!

Prompts:

Prompt 1: “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you.” (Peeta’s pov of the girls who made impressions that didn’t last and the ones Katniss made that did.) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 2: “Luck Is What Happens When Preparation Meets Opportunity” - When they are assigned to the same group in middleschool Home Ec class, Peeta seizes the opportunity to pursue Katniss using all his well-honed family bakery and salesmanship skills. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 3: I would like to see some everlark where Finnick walks in on them or Johanna and the there victors make fun of them for what they heard [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 4: Trope: Jealousy Katniss. Modern AU Katniss Everdeen sees his ex boyfriend as the date of one of her coworkers in the company party. She shouldn’t care, because she broke with him, one year ago and still.... when their song plays, against her better judgements, she finds herself dancing with him. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Prompt 5: Peeta and Katniss were both rescued in the arena and Peeta shares a bunk in D13 with Finnick - Finnick was sleeping and Peeta and Katniss doesn't see him there in the dark hours while they are tangled in lust and desire - either when everlark is doing it and realizes finnick is there or maybe finnicks POV as he is listening silently or even telling Johanna about it the next day - maybe he even stops them mid fuck with a snide sarcastic remark it's up to you [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 6: Modern AU. High School or College Everlark. Make the “booth Kiss” but Everlark! Peeta is the big brother of Katniss best friend, and she never imagined rule number #9 would become a problem. “Rule #9: Relatives of your best friend are off-limits.” [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Prompt 7: Prompt: Butthurt emotionally immature Peeta acts the asshat manwhore around Katniss when, in misinterpreting her, he believes that she thinks he’s not good enough for her. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 8: Age gap. Peeta and Katniss are cast as the romantic leads in a show (tv, film, stage, or even a commercial). Of course they cast someone half his age. Peeta can’t help falling for her anyway. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 9: Canon-Divergent/ In Panem D12 “I waited for you” he said but she dint’t reply. He pressed for an answer he knew he deserved, “under the rain, Katniss. I waited for you, under the rain... why would you do that?” / “I can’t do this anymore, Peeta” / “Bullshit, you can but you just don’t want. I thought you were brave!” he yelled at her looking for any reaction that will give some hope. His tears threatening to run down his face. / She didn’t move, and she didn’t correct her, so he ran away and slammed the door behind him. / “I love you” Katniss said to an empty room. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Prompt 10: Canon Divergent. When Peeta is rescued from the Capitol and brought to D13, he’s forgotten everything related to Katniss. The Capitol has erased his memories: no Valley Song, no bread, no games, ... nothing. It’s the perfect opportunity for Katniss to let it go, it’s what every tells her... but she still kisses his pearl goodnight. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Prompt 11: Prim is marrying before starting her dream job as a pediatric surgeon in another district. 30-something Katniss is proud, thrilled, and yet bereft when her entire life was lived for Prim. She’s never even dated. Has Peeta been waiting for this moment to make his move? Or do they meet at the wedding? Or when her friend drags Katniss out of her slump to a party or on a wild vacation after convincing her to quit her jobs and start a new life? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 12: Fae Katniss. She’s been with him his entire life, so Peeta simply accepted that no one else could see her, thought other people had their own Katniss. She’d been called his imaginary friend and later a crutch, a figment of his imagination, a delusion. Dr. A asks him to make a “real” friend, ignore Katniss, try going on a date. But Katniss won’t be ignored. And a jealous Katniss is a force. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 13: Katniss is “just one of the guys” and the only girl in school who’s never been asked for a date by any of these guys. One day she’s “discovered” by a modeling agency and whisked to the Capital. She returns 3-months later with a new look, new found confidence, and cash. How will Peeta deal with the new Katniss and all the attention she gets from everyone?  [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 14: Peeta is 17 when it comes out the only thing his mother ever cooked was the books; he loses his home, his family, his roll in the community. Katniss is 17 when she loses her only reason for living. What brings them together? How do they help each other survive? What forces work against them? When do they accept the other as ally, as friend, as lover? Canon divergent. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 15: 16-yr-old Peeta’s family moves away. 10 years later he returns and buys a foreclosed upon fixer-upper. When does he learn it belonged to Katniss’s family? She still lives there and hides from him, observes him, haunts him, and ruins all his romantic dates when he’s trying to impress women by making them dinner. Does she learn all she needs to know about him and fall in love before he discovers she’s real and living with him and the one who’s been ruining his love life? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 16: canon divergent, arranged marriage. Many, many years after the rebellion, old victor and mockingjay Haymitch living alone finally starts accepting help, hires teenagers Katniss to bring him liquor and pick up packages and Peeta to bring food and do some chores. The old man sees how the 2 could be good for each other, and being strategic, manipulative, and an old romantic fool with regrets over “the one that got away,” he writes a will leaving his huge fortune to Peeta and Katniss on the condition they have a big romantic wedding within 30 days and live in his mansion caring for his Effie Rose Garden (“Creamy buds unfurl to reveal a memorable heart of buttery yellow, dusty apricot and zesty orange. From a cupped bloom, Rose Effie gradually opens to a perfect rosette, showcasing her splendor.”) And geese.  [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 17: AU, supernatural. “The Monkey's Paw" retelling - 3 wishes are granted (to the owner of the monkey's paw, either Katniss or Peeta) but the wishes come with an enormous price for interfering with fate. Will the last wish make things right? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 18: enemies to lovers. Katniss ruins Peeta’s relationship or his shot with a super hot woman. Peeta ruins Katniss’s shot at great job or security with potential fiancé. Other series of embarrassments and cockblocking type events? Will they start sabotaging each other for revenge? Will they have angry sex or will it dawn on them that they’re actually attracted to each other first and make everything awkward before they instead have a sweet vulnerable moment and slow reverent love-making? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 19: based loosely on retelling of biblical Jacob and wives Rachel and Leah in that polygamist Peeta is husband to both Katniss and Prim. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 20: Peeta works in ER or long-term care facility. Katniss called in from next-of-kin list and has to decide whether to pull the plug on Prim. They argue over value and meaning of life, over spiritual beliefs and doubts of afterlife, over everything. What will she do? Will this event in this one room be the only thing they ever share, or will the bond they forge through this emotional event be the beginning for them? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 21: Graduating senior Katniss finally accepts an invitation to one of Madge’s wild, unsupervised parties completely unprepared for what goes on in them. Everyone at the party notices her for different reasons from jealousy over the way she looks to suspicion that she’s going to tell parents about the activities to desire to ruin her good girl reputation. Peeta has never missed a party - how does he react to seeing her there? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 22: Their creative writing assignment is to write a short story or poem and to illustrate it as a sketch, painting, animation, with puppets, anything goes. Classmates Katniss and Peeta base their works on the exact same shared experience! (such as the burnt bread, the dandelion, the meadow at sunset, something else entirely). Reaction? People think one of them copied the idea off the other or that they worked together. But Katniss and Peeta realize that the other one remembers, and it meant something to them, too! Will they finally talk? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 23: social media type craziness enemies to lovers. Katniss and Peeta each host a YouTube channel rapidly growing in popularity, Peeta focuses on baking and Katniss on wild game cooking, a competition for audience share becomes personal after they both bake a meat pie recipe, viewers begin to rabidly support their favorite or to ship them together hard, they start to hate each other without ever meeting, maybe they get forced into interacting for a charity benefit, things get ugly, maybe one or both has significant other who react badly to the shipping hype? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 24: While no one expected Katniss to show up to graduation right after her mother passed away and her sister died, they were surprised that she disappeared completely, and even more stunned when she reappeared years later to claim the town’s only apothecary as the last living family member. What compels her to take it over? Where has she been? What kind of welcome does she get? How does she feel about returning and about town life? What’s been going on with Peeta, is he the baker, is he single, a dad, how’s he been all these years? Will talking with him be awkward? Has he changed? Who has Katniss become? Does she seem different? Will she stay? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 25: Katniss is the new girl at this school, transferred to get a better education. Everything about her is alluring, even more so because she doesn’t see the effect she has. Seems everyone is in a clique. She learns that some people are mean and compete like it’s a fight to the death. How does she survive this new arena, learn to identify friends, and stay true to her values under this pressure to fit in? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 26: MJ canon divergent: Prim was not killed. Gale and Katniss attempted to get back to how they were before the war, but he realized he already lost Katniss' to Peeta - heart, body and soul. Any POV. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 27: Everlark in a Tangled!AU, with Katniss as Eugene, and Peeta as Rapunzel (without the super long hair...he has lovely, curly blond locks that heal when combed along to the song...but boy uses a rope to get people in/out of the tower!) [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 28: Modern AU: Bestfriends!Everlark took their shot at being lovers. But Katniss introduced Peeta as her "bestfriend" to a guy in a party (she was not used to calling him boyfriend yet). He was furious. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 29: I want to request a fic where Katniss and Peeta almost lost their first child and it just made their love and relationship even stronger. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 30: Peeta is Katniss’ tantric yoga teacher. She joins the class on a dare from Johanna and is committed to attending for 3 months. She hates it...at first. Smut happens. [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]

Prompt 31: Peeta Mellark, breakout star and heartthrob has just been cast in the newest highly anticipated fantasy epic (think like Jon Snow in GoT....or whatever because this is just a prompt) His character is highly skilled with a sword and absolutely lethal with a bow. Him and the rest of the cast have to do three months of intensive training prior to production. How will that go with him having a massive crush on Katniss Everdeen, weapons expert and fight choreographer? [submitted by @nightlock-89]

Prompt 32: Katniss Everdeen, famous musician hates posing for photoshoots whether it's for an album or a magazine with the exception of celebrity photographer Peeta Mellark who seems to always know the way to get the best shots. [submitted by @nightlock-89​]

Prompt 33: Based off the movie The Vow except it's Peeta who wakes up to find out he's married to his childhood crush Katniss Everdeen with no knowledge of them ever even dating. [submitted by @nightlock-89​​]

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 35: Katniss and Peeta tet to have a date night but the babysitter calls for some "disaster" at home (a burst pipe or something, nothing serious). [submitted by @booksrockmyface]

Prompt 36: Katniss and Peeta are both single parents. They meet while chaperoning a field trip. The rest is up to you! [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]

Prompt 37: Forbidden romance AU: Katniss is the school principal. Peeta is a new teacher fresh out of college. Age!gap Everlark. Smut happens. [submitted by @mrspeetamellark]

Prompt 38: Both Katniss and Peeta are rescued from the arena, and Peeta’s entire family makes it safely to D13. How does everyone get along? (Perhaps the older Mellark brothers have a “chat” with Gale? Or the Hawthornes, Mellarks and Everdeens meet up for the first time at dinner and a fight breaks out? Does anyone have anything to say about the beach kiss?? Prim? Rye? Gale? Will Katniss stick by Peeta or avoid meeting the expectations she set with that beach kiss and declaration of “I need you”?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat]

Prompt 40: Katniss is finally, after a long fight with infertility, expecting their second baby. She plans to share this news with Peeta in a big way. Just some sweet, happy Everlark excited for their second toastbaby! [submitted by @albinokittens300]

Prompt 41: based on high school musical. katniss as gabriella, the smart, great singer and shy girl who starts a friendship w the football star player of the school peeta mellark after singing together at a new year's day's party. could be based on the events of one or all three movies. just some light, fluff high school romance and a very hea. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 42: Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, alot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 43: After getting her to agree to be his girlfriend, Gale calls Katniss frigid for not being ready for more than handholding and chaste kisses. In effort thaw her faster, he makes an appointment with a team of sex experts, Mellark, Mason, and Undersee (offering MD diagnostics, individual and couple counseling, sex surrogacy help). The professional team breaks under strain of dealing with jackass Gale. Katniss breaks all ties with him and learns in working with the team that she wants sex and just how she likes it. (Is it M/F, F/F, 3-way...) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 44: First-date Everlark. How do they know each other? Who asked who? How do they prepare? Where do they go? How old are they? Does the first date end with a kiss? Pancakes? Request for another? Is it perfect or a disaster so epic they actually have fun and agree to a second first-date? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 45: Peeta works security (peacekeeper? police?), Katniss is a protester (rebellion? BLM?) or a civilian (rebel?) or a local translator in her village. Do they know each other at all? Work together? Fight on opposite sides or meet at common ground? What threatens them? Are their feelings real? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 46: They really do toast privately in CF - katniss wearing an orange dress for peeta and peeta making cheese buns for katniss. They wanted something their own. No one knows about it and there’s no baby (as far they know) but how would this change their relationship? How they make their decisions? Would anyone actually believe they’re married when she gets to district 13? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 47: Katniss and peeta have a secret semi-relationship prior to the 74th games resulting in a child. Katniss’ family hides it was her pregnancy and pretends its mrs everdeens - assuming katniss went to cray or something. What happens when both katniss and peeta are reaped? Will peeta learn of his child? Will anything change during the games? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 48: Mrs. Mellark survived the bombing of district 12 because she was squatting at Peeta’s house. How does this event change her and how does this effect Everlark? (Does this count as an eligible prompt? I just think it would be a great dynamic!) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 49: Age gap. Peeta is a kid in love, driven to enlist, returns as amputee, expects no woman will have him, let alone Katniss. She has become a skilled healer, comes to care for him. He makes her heart full again, she renews him. Age becomes irrelevant. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 50: Fae Peeta or some other supernatural. Mellarks are secretly fae and Peeta meets his mate *Katniss* on the first day of school. katniss is human and it’s dangerous for them to interact when they are so young still. Peeta is forbidden to interact with her until the 74th games - where he will do everything he can to save her. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 51: Katniss and Peeta unknowingly have super powers. Anything beyond regular human is rare or unheard of in Panem. For some reason it manifests in both of them and comes out as they both fight to protect each other’s lives in the games. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 52: An AU based on Casper The movie from 1995 (just rewatched this movie, it gaves me so much EverLark vibes^^). Katniss comes to live in an old house alone or with family. Peeta is a ghost staying in this house for who knows how long. He doesn't remember much of his living life. The house is full of secrets. They try to discover the story of Peeta and of course they fell in love ! How can it be a happy ending ? 😉 [submitted by @dreamingreaderuniverse]

Prompt 53: Peeta has a harder time after the 74th games then anyone realizes. PTSD, the virtual abandonment of his family, and Katniss’ lack of interest in him, he’s in a bad place. He puts up a front when around Katniss and Haymitch, but things come to head when he gets an anxiety/panic attack while on the victory tour. Katniss is there for him. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 54: Madge has hosted “Beach Week!” ever since her family acquired the multi-dwelling retreat years ago. Katniss never had the $ to go, but with Madge relocating to Paris, Katniss lets Madge cover her share of the expenses with the promise to make it the best! week! ever! Katniss assumes Madge means taking a turn at karaoke or *gulp* going skinny dipping by moonlight. She learns that Madge and her many guests shed all inhibitions, especially with this being their last chance to go wild. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 55: Arriving in D13, it’s quickly discovered that Peeta will never be the same. Mixed with a failed high jacking, and a brutal beating, Peeta’s brain will never be the same. He’s childlike and mostly nonverbal, but Katniss still sees her Boy with Bread and will protect him at all costs.[submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 56: Peeta wasn’t highjacked in MJ. He was tortured, but not set against Katniss. After Peeta’s warning to D13 he receives the punishment for treason: he becomes an avox. [submitted by @kiinghanalister]

Prompt 57: Girl Scout Cookies come to D12: real world trackerjacker venom to a proud 4th generation baker. Is his own daughter a new scout? Is he asked to lead the fundraiser? Does troop leader Katniss come by with her scouts asking to set up a sales table in front of Mellark Bakery? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 58: Katniss’s grandchild is full of questions: why does grandpa walk funny? why is your yard have only dandelions when everybody else only has grass? why can’t I pick the prim roses - they’re yellow, too ... did you know I could eat this many cheesebuns? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 59: Katniss dad is a victor he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 60: Quote prompt: I can see in his eyes what I've done is unforgivable ... "Who can't lie, Peeta?" (Maybe Katniss and Mrs Mellark manipulate situation to get what they think is best for Peeta, sacrificing relationship and destroying trust? Does he leave for years? Does she ever apologize enough to renew a friendship? Was he forced to live a different life than what he wanted? Or does he live his dream life but without Katniss? Is he happily married with kids when she sees him a few years later? Or is he an old bitter man who never loved or trusted again?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 61: The Hunger Games is real - you can go home with your winnings to live HEA. Katniss and Peeta celebrate with sex. Unfortunately, the beauty treatment chemicals stimulate the gonads, and Katniss finds she’s carrying not just one Mellark baby but eight. They’ll need more $. Haymitch suggests a reality tv show. Everyone must play a roll to earn a salary - Mrs Mellark plays the loving grandma (off camera, she’s still a mean bitch), who else will take on a tv persona? They jam in many ridiculous product placements. They slap their logo onto anything they can sell to capitolites. How far will they go to keep those baby butts in clean diapers? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 62: Katniss is the football team’s new kicker and the league’s first and only female player. It’s their first road trip. She’d heard stories about what goes on from head cheerleader Madge and piccolo player Delly. Katniss deals with locker room issues, getting respect she earned for her skill, handling the culture of drinking and casual sex, dealing with possessive girls jealous of her time with the guys or others influencing her to change her look or her attitude, finding what makes her happy and what is real. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 63: Enemies to lovers; Katniss and Peeta are rival business owners (located right next door to each other). A blackout during a snowstorm pushes them together and they are forced to face their true feelings. Do that really "hate" each other, or is their intense desire for one another manifesting itself in other ways? Before the night is over, they find themselves locked in the other's arms. [submitted by @ameliaodair]

Prompt 64: Katniss and Peeta are in a scary car accident - bring on the angst! With happy ending of course :) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 65: 74th games - Katniss is being cornered by a male tribute (whoever you want) early on in the games. She doesn’t have her bow and he’s larger and stronger. He quickly over powers her but he’s not looking to kill her - he has more nefarious ideas. Peeta finds them and doesn’t hesitate to tackle the tribute off of Katniss and kills him in rage. Katniss doesn’t leave Peeta’s side after this moment. How does this change Katniss and the rest of the books? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 66: A story told in pictures. Like, Instagram of their stuff only, as Katniss and Peeta get in to college, change roommates, suffer loss, move on, eventually see their stuff together when they cohabitate, or maybe start there and go through drama of breakup until find way back together. (Like the supposition that your garden looks overgrown is a clue that your husband is having an affair type of idea). [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 67: 🌈❤️🦋Katniss and Peeta are the cutest couple!🌸❤️🦄Everbody hates them. Everyone tries to break them up, for their own reason, using their own methods. Damn it, it only makes their love stronger! It ends in some triumph, like celebration of their golden anniversary or other great fortune. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 68: Katniss always wanted to be a mother, she just never wanted to admit it with the Games hanging over everyone’s heads. So when the war is over and everything is real for Katniss and Peeta, she’s wants to start a family with Peeta. Only- Peeta has never wanted kids. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 69: It’s the start of the holiday shopping season. The Hunger Games Victors’ big public event is attending the grand opening of a huge new toy store where they are presented with hottest must-have new toys: action figures of themselves. Afterwards, they start playing with their dolls. Johanna’s is quickly naked. Is Finnick’s anatomically correct? Anyone jealous of Katniss’s doll coming with the Cinna Collection accessories? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 70: Everlark AU Where the Heart Is (movie) - heavily pregnant Katniss is abandoned at a Walmart in the middle of nowhere by her baby daddy. Homeless and with nowhere to go, Katniss secretly bunks at Walmart each day. One early morning she goes into labor and is discovered by the blue eyed and kind employee Peeta who immediately jumps in to help. Admitting to having no one or place to go to Nurse Effie, Katniss finds herself and her baby the reluctant charge of Haymitch Abernathy. [submitted by @kiinghanalister]

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 72: Post MJ Everlark Parallel to the CF Scene that takes place after the jabberjay hour. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 73: Katniss looses a baby before they have Toastbaby one [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 74: Con man Peeta has an elaborate operation fleecing money out of unsuspecting wealthy victims. Why does he do it? Is it a Robin Hood type operation to redistribute money to the underprivileged and marginalized people? Or is it more selfishly oriented? He can’t do it alone and hires Katniss as a “research assistant.” Authors choice as to what exactly her role is. Does she help select the victims? The recipients of the funds? Or is she involved in planning and executing the cons? Does she help him discover the errors of his ways if he’s doing it for himself? Whatever the plan is, falling in love is not part of it and when you lose focus of the plan, bad things happen. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 75: Black swan style AU with Peeta as Odette and/or Odelle. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 76: Vignettes from a mother’s eye. Everlark through the eyes of Mrs Everdeen, Mrs Mellark, Mrs Hawthorne. One of them or any combination of the three. Canon compliant or any AU. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 77: Married Everlark are coworkers and their marriage is on the rocks. They’ve been sleeping in separate rooms. Divorce looks inevitable. On a business trip, there is *dramatic pause* only one bed. Does the forced closeness lead them to really talk for the first time in months or does it drive them further apart? Smut not required. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 78: Everlark in their twilight years. What do their relationships with the toastbabies look like? Are there grandkids? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 79: This holiday is dumb, Katniss says every year even as Peeta goes all out with the traditions, decorations, themed baked goods, cajoling Katniss to partake in activities. Now there’s a toastbaby on the way and for some reason, Peeta doesn’t do any of the things he usually does for the holiday. How does Katniss react? Relieved? Or does she realize she actually loves his zeal and tries to spark the spirit back into him? Writer picks the holiday and level of cheesy fluff. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 80: How does that work? They were roommates and best friends. When they meet a couple who has a common law marriage, Everlark starts to wonder if it applies to them too. Go angsty or fluffy or crazy, wherever the muse takes you. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 81: Shakespearean style AU in the vein of Still Star Crossed. Katniss and Peeta were not the famed star crossed lovers. Someone else was. But while the deaths of their best friends are still fresh, Katniss and Peeta find themselves in an arranged marriage to hopefully heal the rift. Tell me their story. Any time period or setting welcome. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 82: Everlark + Taylor Swift. I'll make it easy. Any song, write a fic based on it. Are Katniss or Peeta the songwriter, or the ones living out the ending? [submitted by @archersandsunsets]

Prompt 83: Katniss gets stung by tracker jackers post mj, Peeta take care of his wife [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 84: Elementary School - the beginning of having a “girlfriend/boyfriend” - Katniss’s best friends (Maggie and Gale) are the “it couple”. She really doesn’t care - she can sit with her friend Jo at lunch and hangs out on the monkey bars alone. Until a new boy comes to school! [submitted by @winegirl65]

Prompt 85: Arranged Marriage!Everlark. (Not medieval necessarily but ‘old time’ setting) Peeta and Katniss have been betrothed since they were children, but have only seen each other through portraits/paintings. Both grow resentful of their arranged marriage, and act up against it; K being as wild and unladylike as possible: hunting, wearing trousers, riding bareback; P being a rake, silver tongue con artist, etc. A month before their wedding, they meet at a The Hub (black market/pub/whatever disresputable place you want it to be) and bet at arm wrestling against each other. Is it love at first sight? Do they armwrestle each other? Do they recognize one another? Will there be smut because ‘hey, we’ll be marry in a month anyway’? Writers choice! [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 86: Katniss is married to Gale, but they have an open marriage. Gale sleeps around and has other girlfriends, but Katniss is only intimide with her best friend, Peeta - extra brownie points if Everlark have toast babies or Kat leaves Gale for Peeta. Thank you! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 87: Katniss is desperate for a job. She applies for a job with the following description, even though she isn’t fully qualified: We are looking to hire a Data Analyst to join our data team. You will take responsibility for managing our master data set, developing reports, and troubleshooting data issues. To do well in this role you need a very fine eye for detail, experience as a data analyst, and a deep understanding of the popular data analysis tools and databases.Peeta’s just doing his friend a favor, applying for a job he’s definitely not qualified for in order to keep an eye on his friend’s crazy uncle.What happens when Katniss and Peeta are the only applicants for the job of data analyst to Supervillain Haymitch? Will they find a way to both get what they need? Do they stick to the job description or discover that there’s much more to the phrase “Others duties as assigned”? What about Haymitch? His nefarious plans always go awry, and actually don’t seem all that evil, but perhaps with the help of his two questionable new data analysts, he can finally expose two-faced Superhero Coin for the dastardly villain she is. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 88: Peeta designs “toys” for his adult shop. He hires Katniss to test his products, she has to fill a questionnaire for feed back or something of the sort. One day she comes in complaining that one of the toys doesn’t work; Peeta thinks she’s not using it properly, so he sits in to watch her try it once more... “to take notes”. She is indeed using it wrong, so he steps in to show her the correct way. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 89: If Prim and Peeta are never reaped, and Mrs Mellark and Prim die after the 75th Games, and widower Mr Mellark marries widow Mrs Everdeen, what would happen to Katniss? We know from the book that her mom would leave her. And, what would Peeta do? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 90: The Olympic committee is selling sponsorships and heavily advertising the upcoming games. The most photogenic of each sport is asked to pose for pics and attend functions, film commercial together, do some interviews. What sports represented by Katniss, Peeta, others? Required to look cozy? Animosity behind those smiles? Competitiveness? Banter? Any secrets? Do they have a “breakfast club” ending? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 91: Katniss senses something is amiss before the bakery door opens: chaos as Mr. Mellark incapacitated (throws out back?) on one of their busiest days! Mrs M never acknowledged K before, but they desperately need kitchen help, now! And K is more than capable of working hard. A bargain is struck to clean up and follow all other directions thrown at her in exchange for bread and coin. Hard negotiations? Peeta’s reaction? Is it Katniss and all 3 boys in the back? Do the older 2 know her? Any talking? How does the long day go? Does it end well for Peeta? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 92: Years later, the blocked mine shaft is finally cleared, and the bodies are recovered. Will recovery of her father’s remains help Katniss or make things worse? Will the community do anything to honor the men? Will the Everdeens get any personal effects, did he leave a message for Katniss? Will there be evidence that leads to prosecution and $ settlement? Will Peeta, Gale, community, mom, Prim be there to support K? Who can she talk to? Is she changed? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 93: Mr Hawthorne doesn’t die in the mine explosion. It’s he who Katniss meets in the woods and becomes her hunting partner, and eventually a father figure when he starts offering advice on what to do once she graduates. He sees how the baker’s son acts, but he has 3 sons who need strong, hard-working and skilled wives, and he saw Mrs E leave town life behind. Peeta never sees K with Gale - what impact does that have on him? Does Mr H speak of rebellion or does he stay quiet on the subject? Does Katniss see the Hawthorns happily married and modify views on marriage if not on raising a family? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 94: Chris Pratt was a “kick ass” door to door coupon salesman. That could be Peeta! Vacuum cleaner sales, and he has to come in for a demonstration! He’s charming, but does his pitch earn him a sale? Does his cleaner choke on all the cat hair from buttercup? Does the powerful unit suck up something of value? Is it even her house or is she house sitting and wasting his time? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 95: Peeta is also rescued or ah least when he is saved from the capitol he isn’t hijacked which leads to katniss and peeta finally dating - Johanna and finnick still make fun of the happy couple about being so “pure” and one day they have enough - either they purposely do the deed loudly or something in front of them or whatever it is, make it steamy! Or.......peeta exxagerates and tells finnick and Johanna what they have done together in an attempt to prove how unpure they are and Katniss overhears and finally does all the things peeta was explaining [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 96: The Games ended with the rebellion years ago, but now you can “experience all the excitement for yourself at Disney’s newest theme park The Hunger Games! Take a wild train ride into a real replica arena! Experience the thrill of virtually racing to the 3-D weapons pile then trade your kill count tickets in for arcade prizes! Flex your muscles swinging real replica axes and swords! Try on costumes, or enjoy a spa day at Beauty Base Zero! Enjoy an all-you-can-eat meal at The Cornucopia Buffet!” So, who wants to go? Or, who works there? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 97: Everlark cuddling. That’s it. That’s the prompt. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 98: Toned, nubile, athletic Katniss and Peeta are hired as stunt and body doubles for a couple of famous film actors who have been liberally airbrushed for the promo pics. The $ is good. No one can know. A lot of nudity. No dialogue, just well timed grunts and groans. One talks a lot when nervous between takes. Some embarrassing moments. Friendship and trust built over time. When it’s over, can they walk away? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 99: I want a smutty filled fanfic in d13 if Peeta wasnt hijacked and or captured. Are they in a relationship? How does this change Katniss’ relationship with Gale? What does Johanna think of it all? Does Finnick make fun of them but slap Peeta on the back? Does Mrs. Everdeen have an awkward conversation with Katniss about birth control? Does anyone overhear or walk in? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 100: Can be modern canon compliant divergent or whatever but with Johanna and Finnick and or Haymitch talking about Everlark and what they have or haven’t done yet. They all make a bet to see who is right and how far the star crossed lovers have taken there physical and emotional relationship. Extra points if Finnick knowingly smiles at Peeta or Everlark tells them who is right. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 101: Artist Peeta’s niche: option 1: pets - portraits dressed in period costumes with or without owner, or perfectly painted on sugar cookie, other medium? Does Prim want it, or does Katniss surprise gift it to Prim? Buttercup or Lady? In studio or outdoors? Is K indulgent or exasperated? option 2: uptight Katniss discovers that Prim had erotic boudoir photos taken of herself, and neither she nor photographer Peeta told her! She would have stopped Prim. Who is Peeta to katniss? Is Peeta insulted by what she spews out about his job and art? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 102: Peeta and Katniss are both made to wait outside the principals office. One of them in trouble for getting into a fight. The other ? Conversation started by the one not seething. As the hour drags on, they discover common ground and attraction. Suddenly, principal opens office door, and the moment is gone. Do they find way to each other at school? Or in big high school, do they happen to see each other years later under very different circumstances? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 103: Nonhijacked Peeta in d13 needs advice from Finnick about well, you know, how to fuck a girl. And well Katniss goes to Johanna or Annie for the same thing. Will Finnick and Johanna and or Annie tell each other about Katniss and Peeta asking advice? Will they purposely sabotage Everlark by giving them funny bad advice? Will they purposely and awkwardly talk about it at lunch with Gale there? Up to you but make it funny and hot [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 104: Everlark before the quell starts to get intimate, when it dawns on them that Katniss doesn’t want to get pregnant and frankly, either does Peeta however this is something they want to experience. So what do they do? Ask Panem’s biggest heartthrob Finnick for some condoms. Hopefully when the victors have training the next day at lunch, Finnick hasn’t told anyone. Hopefully....😏 [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 105: Katniss is lucky enough to be upgraded to First Class on a flight home to visit her mother and younger sister. Little does she know that onboard is one of Panem’s most important, and consequently, most handsome men, and he takes a shining to her. [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 106: Peeta is a pearl diver/diver/oceanographer. He’s been looking for the perfect way to propose to his longtime girlfriend, Katniss, and thinks he’s found it when he discovers a rare pearl under the sea. The problem is, Katniss isn’t the only one who appreciates his find. [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 107: When her boyfriend cheats, Katniss gets her revenge by making a pass at her boyfriend’s greatest enemy. She only intended to flirt with him to piss off her cheating ex, but things spiral out of control, and they wind up in a dangerously passionate entanglement. [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 108: Everlark fall for one another over a blood transfusion. It happens not once, but twice. His blood runs through her veins, and now hers runs through his. What are the odds they would save each other’s lives? [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 109: Haymitch as a matchmaker. Nuff’ said. His matches are always disasters, but one time, he gets it exactly right when he sets up his neighbors, a stoic girl with a braid and a lonely, blond baker boy. [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 110: A group of bachelorettes/bridesmaids kidnap groom-to-be, Peeta Mellark, in order to convince him that he's marrying the wrong woman, and that he should, in fact, be with their friend and fellow bridesmaid, Katniss Everdeen. [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 111: Peeta is a struggling post-graduate art major. He finally finds a place he can afford because the landlord cuts him some slack on the rent. One day, his landlord becomes ill/injured and his daughter/niece takes over. Peeta's instantly smitten with her, but she insists on the full rent. Will Peeta find a way to pay his sexy landlord? Can he also win her heart? [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 112: Katniss's family owns a Mexican restaurant. Peeta and his friends come in, and he's immediately captivated by her. He keeps coming back, hoping to win her over, but he makes the mistake of inadvertently insulting her/her family. Can he make amends? Will she ever go out with him? [submitted by @mandelion82]

Prompt 113: she’s the man au featuring katniss and gale as the twins, peeta as duke, and madge as Olivia. [submitted by @thegirlwhowokethedreamer]

Prompt 114: Inspired by THIS picture I found - finnick understands Peeta and katniss' love for one another in his point of view [submitted by @everlark-always]

Prompt 115: Post mockingjay, everlark picnic in the meadow, with child or without whatever you feel I just want happy thriving everlark post war [submitted by @everlark-always]

Prompt 116: Hades Peeta and Persephone Katniss fanfic. Maybe Katniss is being abused or needs a reason to leave Olympus and Peeta provides that for her or Peeta just takes her. Peeta may bit of a douche or even dark!Peeta but the two warm up to each other eventually. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 117: Dark!Peeta fanfic where he is a stalker, kidnapper, or serial killer. But he does all of these things because it’s his way of protecting Katniss and ensuring they will be together. Katniss finds out in the end and chaos ensues [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 118: Under the Tuscan Sun AU: Reeling from the breakdown of her marriage due to her partner's infidelity, and struggling to follow up a successful book release, Katniss's friends book her a trip on a bus tour through Tuscany, Italy, to try and help her move on. When she accidentally ends up buying a villa in the Tuscan countryside, she finds not only new inspiration but a new chance at love in the form of her blonde-haired contractor, Peeta Mellark. [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 119: what if Katniss and Peeta didn't get interrupted by finnick that night on the beach in the quell? Would they have kept going? Would the outcome of the night change since that new relationship step where they absolutely would have refused to be seperated? [submitted by @everlark-always]

Prompt 120: In the blast in THG, Katniss loses hearing in BOTH ears - she's miraculously able to hear the announcement of the 2 tributes from the same district (maybe it's just super muffled??) how does katniss handle the rest of the games without her hearing? how is peeta able to communicate with her? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 121: Secret lovers!Everlark, aged 20s: They've been a group of friends with Gale and Finnick. Katniss has always been "one of the boys" and seemed uninterested with boys... until Peeta and she had this drunken confession night and they've been hiding kisses and touches since. Summer in a few weeks, they want to go officially together to their annual beach trip, and they start planning how to break it to their friends gently... especially to Gale whom she turned down in college. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 122: a day in the bakery with Peeta and Katniss ... could be modern or in Panem ... I’ve just been watching a lot of Korean cafe videos and I need detailed descriptions of cake and cute couple moments 🍰 [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 123: wholesome late 1700s Austen-esque romance with local country pastor Peeta (a la Henry Tilney) and his pretty, windswept parishioner, Miss Katniss Everdeen (a la any Austen heroine) with the angelic singing voice and dandelion trimmed bonnet [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 124: The war is over, Peeta has been home for 6 months and things have been gradually better between him and Katniss. Just as Katniss starts to realize how much she needs Peeta things begin to fall apart and he is quick regressing into the tortured Capitol mutt. The Doctors say there is no hope. Katniss convinces Beetee to break into Peeta's medical files and discovers things about Peeta's mother noone knew, especially Peeta. Can this new information be the key to bringing her Peeta back or will it destroy both of them. [submitted by @emazura]

Prompt 125: Peeta Mellark has just started school with a disability (physical, metal, etc.). How will his best friend, Katniss Everdeen, help him through the year and navigate bullies? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 126: The Wedding Year AU. K & P meet and start dating. Early on, they learn that between the both of them they're invited to a lot of weddings (for friends, coworkers, family, whoever), even in the wedding party for some. They decide which ones they'll attend, and these weddings are spread throughout the year. The thing is K has commitment issues and isn't sure if she's even the marrying type, so how does this year of weddings play out for her and P? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 127: AU - Peeta is has two older brothers, a loving but weak father, and an abusive mother. How can the older boys comfort five year old Peeta after his mother’s attacks? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 128: broken katniss post mockingjay - super depressed about everything and the weight of what she went through is finally sinking in with no war to distract her. Peeta comes back and takes care of Katniss - either Peeta Katniss or even Haymitch’s points of view [submitted by @everlark-always]

Prompt 129: AU Inspired by the Greek and Roman mythologies, where the Games take place in an amphitheater/arena turned into a labyrinth. How often do the games occur? Are there mythological beasts/mutts? How do Katniss and Peeta survive? Or do they not? What happens after they leave the arena? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 130: Sheep herder Peeta and quiet seamstress Katniss. That’s it. That’s the prompt. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 131: okay well somebody’s gotta do the inevitable Everlark/WandaVision crossover ... but it’s gotta end happy or I’m gonna be very upset [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Prompt 132: Katniss and Peeta are musicians writing songs about one another unbeknownst to the other. Specifically Taylor Swift's cover of Untouchable, Katniss writes about Peeta. Peeta writes Jump then Fall (maybe change it up a little) about Katniss. Please & thank you! [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 133: The victory tour is live-streamed and mandatory viewing for each district. What no one expected however, was for Snow to know Peeta was the words behind Katniss - the one he couldn’t control. When peeta starts talking about rue and thresh in D11, snow issues the command and everyone is shocked when a bang rings out and a red spot starts rapidly spreading on Peeta’s chest. Reactions and the aftermath! [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 134: Katniss and Peeta in an FLR marriage, Peeta is bisexual and so Katniss has a lot of boyfriends like Cinna, Thresh, Gale, Finnick with whom they have sexy times. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 135: Princess Katniss Everdeen was forced to marry King Snow's son Cato, to ensure that the people in her kingdom didn’t die due to famine. Too bad she falls in love with Cato's personal sex slave, Peeta Mellark. But his time in the royal harem and that with the prince has made him too broken to even consider about love. Will Katniss be able to soothe his bettered soul? What happens when the king finds out? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 136: Katniss Everdeen never had a student as unruly as Peeta Mellark. She wants to spank the hell out of him. What happens when he finally submits himself to his hot and sexy bio teacher? [submitted by @everlurked]

Prompt 137: Millionaire Katniss Everdeen is a porn film maker. Too bad she has to hire, watch and edit two of the sexist man on earth Peeta Mellark and Finnick Odair having sex when she finds out that she might be having a huge crush on Peeta. But she thinks that they are in a relationship. Will she take a chance when Peeta tells her that he is bi and actually Finnick and him are friends, comfortable with each other to do such intimate things for money and not so subtly hints that he likes her too? [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 138: Katniss realizes her feelings for Peeta on the train back and is honest with herself and Peeta about how real it was for her - the beginning of a real relationship after the games [submitted by @everlark-always]

Prompt 139: Young Katniss discovers a wolf cub caught in one of her traps while hunting with her father. They bring him home to heal and Katniss falls in love with his gorgeous blue eyes. He joins the family and becomes Katniss’ new hunting partner. As he grows, Katniss discovers the orphaned wolf’s secret. Werewolf!PeetaBonus: Jealous Gale (As friend? Hunting partner? Your choice) [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 140: The west side of the village is surrounded by a vast forest that no one dares to enter. There’s a legend that states anyone who enters will die in the hands of the wolf that can’t turn back into a man. Katniss doesn’t believe this but when she reads a book, the curiosity gets to her and the only one that she could trust is the drunk man of the town. Witness her encounters this cursed being and how everything in this town isn’t what it seems. #werewolves #magic [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 141: Okay. So texting is wonderful, isn’t it? Katniss is thrilled that she can talk to people without actually talking, especially across the room when that one person you want to talk to is in a different conversation/group than you are. (This can just be fluffy, but as an added bonus, maybe it’s also a way for someone to get *flirty* - or more - with their convo, making her blush like crazy, and the people in her group wanna know what’s going on, why are you blushing..... Or even reversed where Peeta ends up blushing at something she sent. Though he would probably just grin and look up at her unabashedly, which she chided him for later because it’s a dead giveaway. OR! Katniss receives an unwanted text/set of texts from someone - named or not idc - and someone like Finnick or Jo, Gale, maybe Prim, or even Peeta - beast mode activated - sees it over her shoulder and loses their shit and starts taking over the conversation in a ridiculous and hilarious way, unbeknownst to the person responding, and to Katniss’ chagrin. Maybe even as a group, and Katniss just cannot get her phone out of their hands. (I feel like Haymitch, Cinna, and Effie would add their hilarious two cents here and there but also I have no idea how that would work. Idk. This is also known as “The prompt for something I want to write but I don’t write sexy because I’m an awkward turtle but I still want to read this”. You know. Thank you in advance to anyone who read this and/or takes it on.) [submitted by @everybirdfellsilent]

Prompt 142: An Eon ago, the powerful seer got sent a prophecy that shook the world where it stood. "The joining of the purest soulmate will bring the gift that will change the world." (Can be changed to sound so much better)Throughout the years, the prophecy has been misconstrued and manipulated to their owe benefit. Is Katniss the child, the prophecy warned or is there more to that? #Magic #Soulmates [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 143: Katniss moves into a new town for her new job when she catches the eye of the VP of the bicker gang. How long can she resist him and can she truly fit into his life? #HotPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 145: She moves in with her aunt and uncle when her parents dies in a small town. After suffering through trama, Katniss slowly starts to get better with the help of her family (aunt, uncle, cousin) and the Mellark brothers. But when things starts happening to her and the people around her, it’s revealed that she and almost everyone in the towns are apart of the werewolf pack and that one of the Mellark brothers is her mate. #werewolves [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 146: Katniss and Peeta Mellark as the "Biggest Family of District 12!" #allthetoastbabies [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 147: An Everlark fic inspired by e.e. cummings poem I Carry Your Heart [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 148: When a wolf pup runs towards Katniss while in the forest calling her Mama, she doesn't know where they came from and how can she understand them? Is she going crazy? Who's the father? (Its the hot hunk that she meets a day later) #werewolves #toastpups [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 149: An Everlark fic based on the real life story of a kitty becoming best friends with a neighbor (I will post the video link in the comments of the answered ask). Is Peeta depressed? PTSD? Grieving? (Please no divorced/widow/single dad storyline though unless it's like adoption). How does Katniss ultimately bond with Peeta and be a healing light for him in addition to Buttercup? Tension tension tension. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 150: Katniss + Peeta idiots to lovers, modern au best friends secretly pining for one another. Ever the dynamic duo and short on cash, they decide to participate in a couples study. Who's the therapist? (Haymitch?) At what point does the therapist assigned to them realize they aren't even together? And does the therapist realize one or both is in love with the other? Big bonus points for a "It's you. It's always been you." moment. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 151: Pandemic!Everlark. It's their first zoom date and stressed out, overworked Katniss FALLS ASLEEP (maybe they were watching a show together?) Peeta stays on the line and draws her. What happens after Katniss wakes up to a sheepish Peeta with a breathtaking portrait of her? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 152: Enemies to lovers modern au. Katniss emails her group of new hires the training guide to review before they start on Monday. Monday morning just before she's set to meet with the group of trainees Katniss finds an email from new hire Peeta Mellark, attached is the training guide. Completely edited and rewritten. Lots of fuming in their first meeting and total tit for tat hijinks ensue. Torture us with the rivalry please. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 153: Best friends!Everlark who have always been in love with one another. Katniss is in a pretty serious accident, of course Peeta visits her every single day. He notices that every time he enters the room her heart monitor beeps due to elevated heart rate. He notices and finally mentions to a mutual friend (Madge? Finnick?) how it's sweet that she gets excited to see her friends, said friend rolls eyes and is like uh yeah ok "friend". Peeta's all what? Cue suspicion so next time he visits her he takes it a step further and gives little touches (brushes her hair back, strokes her cheek, grazes her arm? LET IT BURN) to see what happens. Sure enough her HR skyrockets. Tell us all the sweet and suspenseful details :))) [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and "rescue" him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 155: Just a really sweet meet cute of skateboarder!Peeta wiping out the first time he sees Katniss. Bonus points for her being a skater too.[submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 156: Post MJ: Toastbabys perspective from in the womb throughout pregnancy. Bonus points for post birth moments. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 157: Miscommunication. Katniss texts Peeta that she needs some 🥖. Peeta thinks the breadstick is a euphemism of her asking him for sex. How do things play out? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 158: CF AU: Peeta gets drunk with Haymitch after the quell announcement. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 159: High school au with popular girl, valedictorian, great at sport and then there is Peeta Mellark shy, awkward, sweet but not so good in academics with a huge crush on Katniss. Will she even look at him when she already has tall, dark and handsome Gale by her side? Typical high school drama ensues. [submitted by @everlurked]

Prompt 160: Katniss witnesses a potential crime in progress and gets in contact with law enforcement. Thanks to her tip, a travesty is adverted. But why did the perpetrator seem to recognize Katniss? And when did the baker’s boy become a head FBI agent? [submitted by @kiinghanalister]

Prompt 161: Katniss is texting back and forth with her older boss (who is hott and recently divorced) about a deadline. She's also bra shopping and taking photos to send to Johanna to get her opinion when she accidentally mixes up the recipients. She notices that she just hit send on the photo to Peeta by mistake (her boobs look amazing by the way, bonus points if it's sunset orange) Mortified she texts "shit, wrong person" What happens the next day at the office. Does Peeta think the pics were for a boyfriend? What's he thinking about during the staff meeting? Will Katniss be able to show her face? [submitted by @nightlock-1989]

Prompt 162: Peeta is actually the Mr. Mellark Mrs. Everdeen left behind to marry her true love when they were 18. They parted on good terms but Peeta just had to get out of town never knowing Mr Everdeens first or last name. 22 years later he returns and falls in love with frequent customer Katniss (who is of age) He brings out the playful side in her and she makes him feel young again. Katniss, who doesn't have a great relationship with her mother, doesn't tell her about the older man she's dating. While running errands, Mrs. Everdeen bumps into Katniss and Peeta, who happen to be engaged in a playful game of grab ass. Shock sets in for everyone. Does Mrs. Everdeen think Katniss is Peetas midlife crisis? Does Katniss' young age begin to nag Peeta? Huge bonus if Katniss freaks out because she realizes Peeta has fucked both her and her mom. [submitted by @nightlock-1989]

Prompt 163: Golden Age of Hollywood AU: Songbird Katniss finds herself signing a contract with The Capitol Productions, a major force in the studio system, after a casting agent hears her singing at a nightclub. Her first project is a musical with a handsome Capitol film star, Peeta Mellark. But while they agree to an engagement as fodder for film promotion, the fine print on their contract never covered the relationship becoming real... [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 164: Peeta is a handsome prince, fleeing his evil stepmother, who has stolen his rightful crown. Katniss is a skilled tracker, taking bounties to send the money back to her struggling family. Will the well-respected hunter make good on the bounty, or will her heart have a different plan? [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 165: Peeta gets with another girl after the war, while him and katniss are trying to be friends, thinking katniss doesn’t want him, but instead it only makes her insanely jealous. When she falls ill does Peeta come to her rescue or does he keep his distance to please his new gf [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 166: Peeta moves into a new town. It’s a small town but so lively but things starts getting weird when he starts encountering dead animals on his back porch. Looks like someone found their mate and is trying to empress him. #werewolfKatniss [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 167: He knows where she is at all times. What’s she’s doing and who’s she’s with. But lately she’s been hanging out with that guy for his liking and he needs to teach her and show her that she belongs to him and no one else. Her whole mind, body, and soul. !DarkPeeta #psychological #thriller #angst #mightnothaveanicehappyending [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 168: One thing that sets this community apart from the others is that is a matriarchy. But a lot of surrounding communities want to get in. When it is Katniss’s coming of age ceremony, the prophet tells her that she has the opportunity to choose a first husband from the neighboring community. Katniss was set on Gale but he became the third husband of (whoever you choose). Will she stick to her community’s men or branch out and get new blood? #olderpeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 169: A Capitolite veiwer perspective on the 74th games, maybe running right up to the first day of the Quell. Do they notice Katniss or Peeta at first, or is it one of the other tributes they like. How do the Starcrossed lovers creep up on them. Maybe reactions to Rues death, or the victory tour ( if you want to go that far) [submitted by @darkhorse-javert]

Prompt 170: Superhero/Catburglar AU: The jewel-thief Mockingjay has evaded The Capitol's superhero, Captain Strong, for long enough, and the Merchants of the city have started putting pressure on the hero to bring the thief in for justice. The only problem? The Captain is the alter-ego of teenager Peeta Mellark, and his elusive nemesis is his high school crush, Katniss Everdeen. [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 171: IndianaJones!Katniss and JiltedLover!Peeta [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 172: Secret Agent Everlark. Peeta and Katniss are undercover partners on a case in Istanbul (or what have you). They take names and kick ass. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 173: Peeta's POV in THG when he wakes up in the cave after Katniss injects him with the medicine to cure his blood poisoning, finding her in a very scary pool of blood. His perspective until she finally wakes. Canon compliant please. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 174: Victory tour AU/deleted scene, Peeta and Katniss walk along a beach in District 4, in a brief moment where they are alone, and Katniss tells Peeta why her favourite colour is green, and anything else you think would fit nicely into that conversation. Basically just Katniss opening up a little more. Either Peeta or Katniss POV. [submitted by @emilia206]

Prompt 175: Katniss hits the force field in CF instead - Peeta’s reaction [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 176: Peeta absentmindedly calls Katniss “love”. She doesn’t mind. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 177: Canon compliant Peeta's POV in MJ when the bombs go off in front of the president's mansion. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Prompt 178: A story based on THIS tweet. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 179: Prompt based on the korean drama “Lovestruck in the City”. Peeta as Jaewon and Katniss as Eunho and the rest is up to you [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 180: Capitol didn’t know hijacking but they left Peeta broken. He was sexually assaulted many times by Capitol buyers, both men and women. Will he be able to recover? How does it affect Katniss and Peeta's dynamic. Also Finnick plays a very important role in Peeta's recovery. [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 181: After her parents death (possibly small pox?), Katniss goes to live with her mothers family. They accept beautiful blonde Prim instantly, but Katniss looks far too much like her Native American father. They sell her as a slave at auction to the Mellark Plantation. Even though she always works to the point of collapse, she is treated terribly by Peeta’s brutal mother. Does he help her keep in contact with Prim? or take care of her when the slave masters beat her? Does Mrs. Mellark sell her again? [submitted by @hope4hea]

Prompt 182: Canon Divergence Katniss gets caught hunting and whipped [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 183: Katniss is really pregnant in CF and forced by Snow to get an abortion [submitted by anonymous]

Prompt 184: Horror-love story. Locals tell legend of “La Dame Mellark” who practiced Dark Arts, caused her family’s ruin, and haunts decrepit, facetiously-named “Mellark Mansion.” What if ghostly figure sometimes spotted in window and unexplained occurrences not her ghost but actually Peeta who survived fireball explosion with physical and emotional scars? Years later, Katniss new in town, either seeks shelter there, maybe looking for her sister’s missing cat? Is Katniss trapped or injured or on the run? Does her singing soothe Peeta when he slips from shy to explosive personality? Does he free her? Do locals storm property looking for her? Is Katniss the delusional crazy dangerous one who repels the attacking horde with explosion, then is soothed by gentle Peeta who promises to care for her because turns out Prim died long ago and Katniss never faced truth? HEA for them, maybe not for townsfolk. [submitted by @567inpanem]

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Okay.

First of all, if you don't vote in the 2022 election and you'll be old enough to vote, I will find you and smack the shit out of you.

Second of all.

Changes are changing, QUICKLY.

The ideals of the baby boomers are vastly different from the ideals of GenX which are vastly different from the ideals of Millennials, which are vastly different from the ideals of GenZ.

These are 4 very different generations with very different values.

And I know there's a lot of people thinking that this whole progressive left thing is a chronically online information bubble hot take but it's really not. Like the most liberal baby boomers I can find is all "well I don't agree with Kim Kardashian running around half naked on screen"

And the most liberal millennial (other than myself) I can find IRL is "I don't care if she runs around half naked". Which is still a far cry from like what I think, but that's still a huge change from the baby boomers (and I live in a conservative area, so imagine how they feel in liberal areas).

So why are so many of our senators baby boomers?

And why the fuck do we have ANY of the silent generation in the senate? You DO realize that the silent generation created and enforced the Jim Crow Era, right? Even Biden is part of the Silent Generation.

New rule.

First priority. No senators over GenX with strong preference to Millennials. Get some time senators in that are more representative of our current ideals.

(For serious, the ONLY senator over the age of 57 that has our interests in mind is Bernie Sanders, and he was radical far left for his time.)

THAT is how we get politicians in place that have our values in mind. That's how we get politicians that'll dismantle the tools of white supremacy (if they are white, I still don't trust them to dismantle white supremacy itself, but dismantling capitalism, classism, and abelism is a damn good start).

Free college. Free Healthcare. End pollution. These are two amazing STARTS to dismantling the tools that support white supremacy. It's just a start, but we're going to see none of that shit if we keep election decaying old farts that are one COVID case from their death beds.

(If you want me to expand on how this will benefit Black people, let me know. )

-fae

[newtafterdark]

Welcome to me at 6pm thinking about Hellboy. This is what happens whenever I draw monster men. I am going right back into that wonderful world with my favorite hero character of all time.

(This is taken straight from my Twitter where I was writing this thread for over an hour)

Being 100% honest - I think about my "everyone lives - no one dies" version of Hellboy more often than you'd think.

Not to mention that I have an AU rotating in my brain with the Lords from RE8 getting resurrected and intigrated into that world.

Just all of them getting slowly used to freedom amoung people who are unusual like them... 🥺

Plus, I can totally see the Duke occasionally selling & buying goods at the Troll Market! That place is buzzing with folks appreciating his wares & aesthetic!

Moreau getting to choose if he wants to become someone more human-like again or meeting Abe and deciding "No, I think can work with this. :)" and letting himself be a fishman who becomes a trusted doctor once more.

Heisenberg 100% says "thank you but fuck you" to the royal twins & does his own thing in the streets of the Troll Market for a while... until eventually joining the blackmiths in their lava powered forge who are 100% just as rough around the edges as he is.

Donna would actually stay close to Princess Nuala, appreciating the silent chambers of the palace & doing her crafts beside Nuala doing her own studies. Possibly even have Abe as a visitor sometimes as well. Just all of them doing their own things in comfortable silence.

Meanwhile Lady D and her daughters... I think Prince Nuada would appreciate them very much. Specifically Lady D as an equal for discussing political matters that require swift action.

Bela, Cassandra & Daniela no doubt get encouraged by the entire fae court to "find themselves", learning about their past & developing their own preferences aside from what they learned at Lady D's place.

Am I possibly thinking about Miranda getting held accountable by the royal fae court for A) experimenting with the Mold & B) bringing attention to it, which lead to it getting destroyed by humans? Absolutely.

But also!! The fae court offering their power & influence to rebuild the Village & teaching the folks there how to gain control of their powers and how to help the Mold heal. Which means Ethan Winters and his family can stay there & not be bothered by Umbrella.

Consider this: Hellboy & the BPRD grabbing Chris & his squad like "Wanna try again, bootboy?" is just good. We are shaking the guy until he is no longer a goverment man.

Look me in the eye and tell me that Chris Redfield wouldn't look respectfully at Hellboy. 👀

... then again, so would Heisenberg. Welp, that's for the three of them to figure out amoungst themselves, I ain't touching that hot mess.

Back to Lady D for a moment - Just imagine her in her own version of the royal fae robes! Specifially with Nuada's black, red and gold colours~ OoooOooo!!🥺💕She gets something made that is a combination of armour & dress for sure.

... all in all, you can tell that I've been roating this comfort AU in my head for a while. It's simply nice to combine two pieces of media that you love & figure out how they'd interact with eachother. :>

[strangecreationchaos]

elain can't be redeemed like nesta!!! right!

nesta who is being called a witch and viper from the beginning of the book can be redeemed but not elain who is being loved by everyone!

feyre literally have the strongest connection with elain than nesta ! as nesta mentioned it in the acosf book itself!

lets start with people around elain

feyre and elain always has this sisterly bonding with eachother! feyre never forget elain gifted her paints when they had nothing! elain allowed them to the house when they are searching for the place to contact the human queens! feyre is literally taking elain for solistice shopping and elain baking cake for her birthdays! elain was the one who was holding nyx when they visited their father's stone! so after rhys and mor its elain is the closest whom feyre trust with nyx!

rhysand literally never blamed elain a single time in the whole series rather notice when elain speak up for herself for the first time! well he is the one who can sense evil from miles away! and here he is calling elain intresting for opening her mouth and talking about her experience!

amren! the 15000 year old fae who can see a person and can immediately sense the person's character treat elain with affection! and also know that elain is strong enough to find the troves.

cassian treat her like a baby sister and elain gifted him a hot water flask for traveling as she know how much he travels.

azriel..... well he is on his knee for elain!

nesta with whom elain has the biggest fight ! and elain just laughed and crack a joke on nesta's " fuck you"! and they are back to being the best sisters forever! and nesta despite everything never stop protecting elain!

and even when no one was able to see elain , azriel was the one to see her for who she is!

are these gwynriels really think that all these people will just let elain get evil!

nesta blocked everyone away from her and yet cassian did everything in his part to bring her back!

and here my elain has the whole IC court to protect her ! and when the IC are talking about elain being strong and being brave and acknowledging her traumas...! HOW PEOPLE ARE EVEN IMAGINING HER TO TURN EVIL?

[daggerandrose]

… it’s still January in some parts of the world… right? I spent most of January either writing my big bang fic or re-reading RNTM, but here’s some fics I’ve read over the past few months! Make sure to leave kudos/comment on these fics too!

Praise the Mutilated World, 106k, by @creamcoffeelou and @eeveelou

It was August when everything changed. 

By October, the leaves changed, and so did Louis’ heart. 

OR: An enemies to lovers dystopian au where Harry is an elite alpha and Louis is a rebel omega with too much to fight for. Every move made is monitored, and a fertile omega’s purpose in life is one thing: to give children to their alpha.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction, 113k, by @indiaalphawhiskey

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

even the best laid plans, 25k, by @falsegoodnight 

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

That Don’t Define Who You Are, 7k, by @lululawrence

“Shit,” Harry muttered, rushing towards the man. “Are you alright?”

The man clearly tried to muffle his scream. “No, I’m really not. I’m afraid you’ll need to call 999.”

When Harry reached the man, he saw the man’s leg had gotten caught by pieces of the bike that had come apart beneath him. Without thinking, Harry leaned down and lapped where the blood was flowing quickly until it slowed.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to pass out whilst I was on the phone.”

“God, no, don’t apologise,” the man said. “My mum’s a licking omega, see. Quite soothing.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Let me see about an ambulance for you.”

Or the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

Come My Love Again, 110k, by @softfonds

Harry Styles is handsome, clever, and rich. At least that’s what his friends say of him. He also thinks of himself as a matchmaker in Highbury, pairing people together when he finds the time. But when the arrival of a certain gentleman flips Harry’s world on its head, he starts to question everything that was once all too familiar to him, including his relationship with his good friend, Mr. Tomlinson. An Emma AU.

Lovely, made from love, 1.4k, by userkant

Harry imagines what his and Louis’ child will be like.

the devil’s in the details, 25k, by @raspberryoatss

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

or the one where harry's on his way to becoming a professor and louis is the smart, bratty student

Carry These Feelings, 3k, by @londonfoginacup

Harry is one of the fae, and has to return to Court once a year to please the Queen.

He makes a detour on his way home to Louis.

Two weeks and I'll be home.

[witcherslittledove]

Home is Where the Heart Is

A Joey/Henry lockdown fic - AO3

Rated: T

Words: 7k ish

CW: RPF, covid, far too much pining?

_______

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Madeleine sighed again, pressing her head into the crook of Joey’s neck, her hair tickling his cheek.

It was pulled back into a messy bun, flyaway strands surrounding her face in a halo, and as the sun shone from behind her, she looked like some kind of angel. Joey wondered, not for the first time, how he’d even been so lucky to have Madeleine as a friend. She truly was a wonder, his favourite person and light of his life. Everyone should have a friend like Madeleine Hyland.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple as he pulled back from her embrace. “Nah, it’s alright, Madeleine. Your parents need you, much more important than little old me.”

“Oh fuck that, you bastard, stop fishing for compliments,” she laughed, swatting him on the arm.

“Aww,” he pouted, “Oi!”

She’d hit his arm again, barely a tap but he pretended it hurt, rubbing his arm and pouting even harder at his friend.

“Come off it, Joey. You’re staying with Henry for the rest of lockdown, that’s hardly a trial,” she teased, poking him in the chest.

Ah yes.

Henry.

The bane of Joey’s existence, mostly because of the fucking ginormous crush he had on his co-star. He hadn’t known Henry had been signed on for Geralt until his audition, really he hadn’t known much at all, just that he’d be auditioning for a bard and that he should probably take his lute to the audition. A spur of the moment decision that had turned his life upside down. He’d gone from a nobody to... well, not exactly famous but people had started to recognise him, much to his despair.

And then there was Henry.

He’d been admiring Henry from a distance for a few years now, watching him in the Tudors had sort of been Joey’s bisexual awakening, and then he’d suddenly been thrust into the most bizarre experience of having to work fairly closely with the man.

Joey would never forget the feeling of Henry throwing him over his shoulder as if he wasn’t almost the same size as Henry.

Fuck, that had been hot.

And now, Joey had to cohabit with said crush for an indeterminate amount of time, preferably without making a fool of himself.

He was doomed.

Of course, he could have said no when Henry had offered his place when Joey was grumbling about being alone during lockdown after Madeleine's parents got sick, but no… Henry had stared at him with such shining hope in his eyes that Joey never stood a chance.

Joey just needed to keep reminding himself that Henry was straight. He was practically the poster boy for heteronormative; classically gorgeous, action star, gymrat, lover of sports and building fucking computers.

Okay, maybe Joey was generalising a tad, but it was a form of self-defence.

Christ, the mere thought that Henry could be interested in men… interested in him.

It was too much.

So here he was, saying goodbye to his best friend whilst waiting for his biggest crush to pick him up. Madeleine bundled into her car with the last of her bags, and Joey was left waiting on the pavement. In all honesty, he would have preferred to drive to Henry’s place himself or at least get the tube, something where he felt like he was actively doing something. The waiting was killing him, making his thoughts run out of control. Maybe he shouldn’t have packed his guitar. He could have at least been tuning it, or plucking out some meaningless melody, anything to keep his hands busy and his mind distracted.

When the black car pulled up, Joey let out a sigh of relief before realising that it was very much frying pan, fire. Luckily, before he could really start to panic, the back door opened and Joey was almost bowled off his feet by a large bundle of fur that Henry claimed was a dog and not, in fact, a bear.

“Kal!” Joey greeted warmly, burying his fingers into Kal’s neverending fur, and letting the dog lick all over his face.

“He’s missed you,” Henry called in lieu of a greeting.

He was wearing a grey henley that looked like it was two sizes too small and his dark blue jeans seemed to strain against his quads. Henry’s arms were crossed in front of his chest and he looked down at Joey with a blinding Hollywood smile that made Joey’s heart flutter. Dark curls seemed to have finally recovered from the weeks stuck under Geralt’s wig and they fell in front of his so very blue eyes.

He was bloody gorgeous, and it wasn’t fucking fair.

So Joey did the only logical thing, and started to coo at Kal instead. “I’ve missed him too,” he trilled happily into the dog’s fur, scratching Kal behind his ears. “Such a good boy! The bestest, cutest doggo.”

“He’s not the only one who’s missed you, you know,” Henry groused, although when Joey looked up, he was still smiling so Joey didn’t feel too bad for paying far more attention to Kal than the gorgeous specimen of a man that is Henry Cavill.

“Aww, you sap,” he chuckled. “Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for those cruel and terrible words you cursed me with the last time we met.”

It wasn’t the last time they’d met. They’d had a few scenes after the argument in episode six. Scheduling had meant that it wasn’t filmed entirely in order, and then there had been reshoots and post-production parties, premieres and the table reads for season two, but it was a sort of in-joke. Joey liked to tease Henry about the argument, they’d both lurked enough online to know that ‘the mountain’ was a big fucking deal to the fans of their characters.

Henry rolled his eyes and opened his arms out for a hug which Joey eagerly returned, inhaling the soft musky cologne that Henry wore and enjoying the strongs arms that wrapped around him. He loved hugs, but most of Joey’s male friends would do that god awful hug and pat thing, then pull away too soon. Henry had never been like that and it was delightful, even if it really didn’t help the not so little crush that Joey had on the man.

It was cliche but it really did feel like coming home.

Fuck.

He was utterly screwed… and not even in the fun way.

The drive to Henry’s place was quiet, Joey spent most of the time watching the streets of London roll past as they weaved through bendy roads that webbed across the city. The traffic was weirdly non-existent, a side effect of a global pandemic, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the ghost towns from films and books.

It was truly haunting, spooky in just the right way. Horror and the Wild had very much had woodland magic vibes, but driving through the dead streets of London, Joey wondered what happened to the fae when a city sprung up near their home. Did they adapt like the wildlife did? Urban spirits that lurked in the shadows, in the alleys, behind the bins and cobbled streets at the back of theatres.

Most theatres were supposed to be haunted, Joey had always wondered just who the spirits were that glided through the aisles when the shows went dark.

Henry didn’t feel the need to fill the silence which Joey was grateful for. On set, with Jaskier on his fingertips, Joey was happy to joke about and laugh and banter, but he was nervous about the move to Henry’s and the silence gave him time to get lost in his own imagination, a reality that wasn’t quite the one they knew.

He was almost disappointed when the car pulled to a stop in front of a rather grand house. It was part of a terrace but that was unsurprising, most places in London were, but it was much nicer than the shitty little flat that Joey shared with Madeleine.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They were poles apart. Even being friends was unrealistic. How the hell was Joey supposed to even pretend they were in the same league? It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Joey just had to be a perfect house guest, no clumsy mistakes, no setting fire to any ovens, and no slipping in the shower and messing up his ankle.

He’d just have to spend all his time with Kal lest Henry find out just how much of a walking disaster he could be.

Henry had only offered because he was a caregiver, selfless and kind in everything he did. He would have done the same to anyone else if they’d mentioned spending lockdown alone. Joey was just the lucky one.

Or unlucky.

He hadn’t quite decided yet.

Yes, he would just have to spend his days with Kal and his guitar, stay out of Henry’s way and then everything would be fine.

Right?

___

Joey’s plan went according to plan for almost an entire week. He mostly kept to his room and occasionally the living room. Henry wanted to show Joey some films he liked and it would have been rude to say no, so Joey curled up with Kal on the floor to keep some space between them. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to snuggle up against Henry’s chest the same way he did with Madeleine, only it wouldn’t be the same because Madeleine was his best friend and Henry was… well… Henry.

It was such a mess.

And he was probably being an arse.

They’d gotten along so well on set in between takes, but now, without Jaskier there as a crutch, Joey’s anxiety was getting the better of him, and all because of a stupid crush. This would all be a lot easier if Joey were straight; no awkward crushes, no pining for a man he couldn’t have, no… whatever this was?

He could flirt and tease and banter just like he would with any of his friends because it was harmless.

If only.

No.

He had to do better. The reason Henry had invited him to stay was so neither of them would be alone, and despite all his cuddles with Kal, Joey was really starting to feel touch starved. He’d never gone so long without human touch.

The problem was that Henry was just so fucking sweet. He was so bloody understanding that it made Joey just yearn even harder. There was never any pressure to hang out, just gentle suggestions, and the most amazing home-cooked meals that Henry said could be heated up another time if Joey wasn’t hungry. The wine Henry picked out to go with the meal was heavenly, and fuck, the man could cook.

He felt like he was being seduced; wooed with the most gorgeous culinary delights that were truly to die for.

What was a poor bisexual to do?

So every evening Joey would sit across from Henry at the table, trying to joke and laugh just as they had before, but even to his own ears it felt flat. Madeleine’s voice in his head reminded him that that was probably his anxiety speaking but, of course, he ignored it. They ate their food and then Joey would either retreat to his room with his beloved guitar or Henry would suggest a film.

Until Henry decided enough was enough.

Joey was lured from his room with the sweet delicious smell of pizza, and when he came down the stairs he found Henry already on the couch, two boxes of pizza and a couple of beers already opened and ready to go.

There was no sitting on the floor, not with pizza and a Kal. Joey wouldn’t get to taste the greasy wonders of his takeaway if he sat on the floor, and the pizza box was already being guarded by Henry on the couch.

He had to break his rule.

Fuck.

“Kitchen table not good enough?” he teased with a quirk of his lips.

Henry scoffed. “Who eats pizza at the table?”

It was a fair point and sighed, resigning himself to an evening pressed up against his friend when his cuddle instincts got too much. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing, maybe it would help get him out of his head and into the moment… maybe he should just let Jaskier out of the box and pretend that all was fine?

No.

He could do this. Just… be himself?

“Before I open this box, there is one very important question I have to ask,” he said far too seriously, barely able to hide a smile as he scooped the pizza box into his lap and sat down next to Henry, keeping a safe distance between them.

“There’s no pineapple.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Joey laughed and opened the box. It was a standard pepperoni pizza, not his go to, but it was a safe option and one that was always yummy regardless of the restaurant. “Garlic dip?” he asked with a cock of his head.

“Damn, I hoped you wouldn’t like it,” Henry grumbled and pulled a small green topped tub from inside his own box.

“You!” Joey said in mock outrage, “keeping the beloved dip from me. It’s like the mountain all over again.”

“It’s not like the mountain,” Henry grumbled. “I didn’t make the script, you can’t keep blaming me for that.”

Joey’s heart sank as he wondered if he’d taken the joke too far, but when he met Henry’s gaze he saw the man was smiling despite his grousing. “I can,” he insisted.

“Hmm,” Henry replied in his most Geralt-y voice.

And with an internal sigh of relief, everything seemed to be okay. Yes, Joey was pulling some of his energy from his beloved character, but so was Henry, and it seemed to smooth out the edges of his anxiety. The beer helped and everything seemed a lot more relaxed with the takeaway pizza and the film already starting to play on the TV.

“I’m sorry,” Henry whispered after the pizza was finished and the credits had started to roll.

Joey’s head was resting on his friend’s shoulder but he’d managed to keep himself from koala hugging… so far. The vulnerability caught his attention though, and he sat up wearily to peer at Henry.

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by inviting you here.”

Joey wanted to swear, to stomp around the room and tear the place upside down. He’d fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up, his damn anxiety keeping him from being the person he wanted to be, the person he knew he could be if his head just shut up! He didn’t do any of that though. Instead, he slumped back down to lean against Henry and took a deep breath.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. I’m just- it’s hard for me, being somewhere new,” not a lie, not entirely the truth, “and I didn’t want to encroach on your space. This is your home, and I- umm- I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Henry laughed, running a hand through his hair, pushing the curls back off his face, and Joey was entranced for a moment, wanting to reach out and feel the soft hair between his fingers for himself. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his hands in his own lap.

“Joey, this is our home, for now at least,” Henry said with such conviction and warmth that Joey made a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Our home?”

“We have no idea how long this nightmare is going to last. It could be months, Joey. I want you to feel like you can relax here,” Henry insisted, wrapping his arm around Joey’s shoulder and pulling him into a sideways hug.

“Right- yeah, no, I know,” Joey mumbled, trying and failing not to blush.

Now that Henry wasn’t really having to watch what he ate and stay dehydrated for dear old Geralt, he was big.

And Joey was weak.

It was like all his wet dreams were becoming a reality, one by one.

He was just monkey-braining over the fact that Henry was one big, large, strong man that wanted to take care of him. It was pathetic. Joey wasn’t exactly small himself, and he could, should the role require it, hold up pretty well in a sword fight with Henry and not look entirely ridiculous.

“And I know Kal is very cute,” Henry teased, nodding to the dog who was sprawled on the carpet in front of them, “but if you ever need a hug, he’s not your only option.”

Joey definitely didn’t squeak this time. Instead, he finally let himself snuggle up to Henry the way he’d been wanting to all evening, every evening since he’d arrived. “Like this?” he teased.

Henry chuckled, and just squeezed his arms tighter around Joey, “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey mumbled. “I was being an arse.”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

Joey scoffed.

“I should have been clearer on day one,” Henry sighed, “although seeing as you live here now, maybe you should cook?”

Joey laughed nervously, burying his face into Henry’s jumper. “Neither of us want that,” he muttered. “Trust me.”

“I’ll help?” Henry suggested, which of course brought forth a dozen images of cooking together, dancing in the kitchen to whatever songs fell past Joey’s lips, lazy early morning kisses as they waited for the coffee.

He swallowed, blinking away the fantasies. “How about you cook, and I’ll help?”

“Lazy,” Henry said with a chuckle but just pulled Joey closer.

“Only trying to keep you safe, darling.”

Darling.

Fuck.

“I mean, Henry, sorry, slip of the tongue. I mean- fuck. I call Madeleine darling all the time?”

“Joey, it's okay,” Henry reassured him.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

With a sigh, Joey untangled himself from Henry’s arms and gathered up the pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Booping Kal on the nose as he went past, he busied himself with clearing up. It wasn’t much and didn’t take long, so sooner than he would have liked he poked his head back around the door.

Henry was sitting on the floor, rough-housing Kal, chuckling as the dog kept licking at his face. The sight made Joey smile softly, and he almost didn’t want to leave, but he was getting tired and he really didn’t want to slip up again. He couldn’t blame every mistake on Madeleine. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

“I’m going to bed,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his hair. “See you tomorrow, Henry.”

_______

After that, things started to get easier. Joey would flop down onto the sofa next to Henry in the evenings regardless of what they were doing. Sometimes he’d lie with his head in Henry’s lap whilst they both read a book, other times he’d pluck at his guitar and laugh over stupid limericks that he could make up about his co-star. True to his word, Henry made Joey start helping with mealtimes, although he soon regretted that decision but refused to back down. The food still tasted good but the presentation was lacking. They spent an afternoon trying to bake bread together… Joey’s did not turn out so well and Henry’s attempt was thankfully less than perfect but still edible. The little flaws made Joey feel a little less inferior, and made Henry seem all the more human.

Kal still got a lot of Joey’s attention. How could he not? He was just so fluffy and adorable, plus Joey loved the little pout that Henry did whenever Kal got more hugs than he did. Joey could pretend that his friend was jealous, and that just helped him sleep a little easier at night.

Cuddling on the couch had become their usual routine, and it settled something deep inside of Joey that had been becoming restless. Mornings were spent watching Henry workout. Joey joined in occasionally but usually he would just cheer Henry on from the sidelines sipping his cup of tea. It was a sight to behold, and Joey thanked the lord that the gyms were currently closed otherwise he would never have been allowed to enjoy the view.

Henry’s arse was truly spectacular.

Despite his morning workouts, Henry had definitely gained a rather lovely layer of fat over his previously tightly toned muscles. He looked stronger. He looked cuddlier. Joey’s crush was only getting worse by the day, wanting to run his hands over the broad muscles of Henry’s back, thighs, arms… wherever he was allowed, but he just settled for the cuddling each day.

Joey tried not to think about the fat building over his own stomach and filling out his cheeks, barely noticeable unless you’d had a lifetime of his mother breathing down his neck about his weight. He was cuddlier too, that’s what he told himself whenever the familiar buzz of anxiety started to build up.

And anyway, Henry didn’t seem to mind.

Kal certainly didn’t. The beast of a dog had started to share the sofa with them in the evenings, squishing between them for maximum cuddle potential until eventually he got bored and retreated back to the floor.

It was really starting to feel like home. There were signs of Joey around the house, sheet music left on the TV cabinet, a set of spare lute strings in the kitchen, the bastard instrument tucked away in the corner of the living room until Joey could bring himself to pick it up. Two sets of keys now hung up by the front door so they could both take turns walking Kal without having to worry about getting locked out if the other was busy. A fluffy worn blanket was now strewn over the big armchair where Joey liked to sit during the day. Even the fridge now stocked Joey’s favourite rosé wine.

All in all, Joey wasn’t hating lockdown. It was frustrating but he enjoyed being inside anyway, and well, the company was pretty great.

The two of them were curled up on the sofa watching the Great British Bake Off on netflix, gin and tonics flowing a little too freely, and Joey felt like he was on top of the world. He had the best cuddler in all of England, nay, the world, a big fluffy puppy to boot and some bloody brilliant booze in hand.

The best thing was that Henry’s hoody had shifted up at some point during the evening, and Joey couldn’t take his eyes off the soft but defined muscles that were often hidden under Henry’s clothes. The dark hair that dipped beneath the exposed band of Henry’s boxers was tantalizing, and Joey longed to reach out and touch…

Only he was drunk enough that his inside thoughts had his hand moving before he could realise, landing on Henry’s stomach.

He froze and stared up at his friend with wide eyes.

“Oops,” he slurred.

“That’s my stomach,” Henry pointed out.

And still Joey didn’t remove his hand, relishing the bare skin beneath his fingertips, but he knew he needed an excuse, so he did the only logical thing and launched his attack. Henry was stronger than him, but Joey had the element of surprise as he tickled his friend, fingers dancing across the exposed skin as Henry desperately tried to shove Joey away. They were both laughing, too busy pushing and pulling at each other, that neither of them quite registered that at some point in the tussle, Joey had straddled Henry’s waist in an attempt to keep him pinned down.

Until suddenly their lips were barely a breath apart.

Oh.

“Hi,” Joey mumbled, smiling coyly down at Henry, the longer strands of his fringe falling into his eyes.

“Hi.”

It wouldn’t take much to lean down and kiss him, maybe Henry would even reach up first. There was no denying the sudden pull between them, and god, Joey wanted it. He’d wanted it for so long now.

So close.

The warmth of Henry’s breath brushing against his lips.

Eyes closed.

Hearts racing.

A soft whisper of a moan.

And then a bark rang out in the room, startling Joey and shattering the moment. He cursed as he fell to the floor, the world spinning from the gin and giddy burst of adrenaline. Kal jumped up into Henry’s lap, barking and whining excitedly at his owner, checking that he was okay following Joey’s tyrannical tickle attack.

Joey felt like an ice bucket had been dumped over his head, feeling far too sober, far too fast.

He’d almost kissed Henry.

He’d almost kissed Henry.

Fuck!

“Right,” he slurred as he pushed his hands back through his hair- too long, needed a haircut. “Bedtime, sleep. Yup.”

“Joey?”

“See you in the morning?” he mumbled, although glancing at the clock, he wondered if that was a little optimistic. “Tomorrow,” he amended.

“Tomorrow,” Henry agreed, looking a little disappointed.

Joey refused to think about it. He wouldn’t start to hope. It would hurt too much if this all went wrong.

______

They didn’t talk about it.

Or rather, Joey, didn’t talk about it.

Henry tried to bring it up the next morning but Joey just laughed it off before his heart could get torn to pieces. He didn’t need confirmation that his crush was a no go. He already knew, but he really didn’t need to hear the words. Not to mention his hangover was an utter bitch and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and feel sorry for himself, which is exactly what he did.

After a few days, or was it weeks, months, years? Time seemed to stop existing, all Joey knew was his clothes seemed to be tighter than before and he was in desperate need of a haircut, but after a lockdown-eque period of time, all was forgotten. They fell back into their usual routine, and Joey’s crush continued to simmer just below the surface, unnoticed by Henry.

He’d started to facetime Madeleine most evenings just before bed now that the novelty of living with a bloody filmstar had worn off. He missed her terribly and she seemed to be going crazy at her parent’s house. There was a twinge of guilt stabbing in his chest when he realised he’d all but forgotten about her the first few weeks of lockdown, but it was nice to catch up with her again.

Henry was brilliant, but he was no Madeleine Hyland. He wasn’t Joey’s best friend.

And sometimes Joey just needed to vent about Henry’s stranger habits. Like seriously, why wass there that weird sponsored water just stationed around the house? And what was with the weirdly staged selfies on instagram. It made Joey feel a whole lot better about his own lack of media presence. He’d rather be a mystery online than this boomer energy than Henry had going on.

Venting to Madeleine helped too, he got less frustrated about the shit hole that was life during a pandemic. A little less angry, a little less depressed, and a little less pathetic with his pining over Henry, although Madeleine would probably disagree.

She was probably right.

The sudden cold turn in the weather hadn’t helped. It wasn’t too bad but Joey had mostly brought summer clothes with him because he honestly hadn’t thought he’d be staying more than a couple of weeks. Thankfully he’d thrown in a couple of onesies for comfort reasons so he spent most his days dressed like a tiger and hoping that Henry would find it endearing. The best part was his onesies were a bit looser and fit him more comfortably than his normal clothes. A lockdown diet was brilliant, but not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d gone shopping all those years ago.

What he hadn’t expected, was for Henry to rock up to dinner wearing the stupid bunny onesie that Joey had left in his room.

“There,” Henry greeted him with a broad smile, “Now we match.”

It wasn’t fair. Joey wanted to kiss him so badly. The white onesie was a little short on Henry, pulling up just above his ankles, and it still managed to stretch at his shoulders, but it was so fucking adorable and Joey could pin point the exact moment his crush tumbled over the edge into love.

It was the crinkles at the corner of Henry’s eyes as he smiled, the slight tilt of his head, the sparkle in his ocean blue eyes.

Except they weren’t just blue. No, there were specks of golden brown in one eye, that were just captivating. Joey felt like he could so easily get lost in Henry. Every time he looked at the man he found something new and exciting.

“Darling, you look adorable!” he cooed, before he could get too distracted by the fluttering of his own heart. “Very cuddly.”

Henry chuckled and opened his arms wide, allowing Joey to barrel into them. “That was the idea.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked, hoping that Henry would have forgotten that-

“It’s your turn to cook.”

“Bugger,” Joey whined. “Cheesy pasta?”

“You made that last time,” Henry teased.

“I’m very good at carbonara!” Joey countered.

“Melted cheese on pasta isn’t carbonara.”

Joey scoffed. “Eh, close enough.”

“Fine, make your cheesy pasta.”

“Carbonara,” Joey said with a wink. “I’ll add bacon this time.”

The pasta was overcooked and the bacon was a little chewy, but it was dinner, and afterwards Henry made them both extravagant hot chocolates made from actual chocolate rather than powder shit that Joey used. It was covered in whipped cream and marshmallows and had a healthy amount of Baileys to top it off. They curled up on their usual spot on the sofa, buried under blankets and held the warm mugs close to their chests.

If it had been snowing, then Joey would have thought he’d walked into a Christmas film, all it needed was a fireplace and some fairy lights. It was cosy and warm, and a little bit romantic, or it would be if Henry was interested in men and Joey was his type.

No, he couldn’t think like that.

They were friends, good friends, good friends that liked to cuddle and almost kiss if the dog hadn’t interrupted.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

He took a long gulp of his hot chocolate to stave off his anxiety, not noticing when his nose dived straight into the whipped cream until he looked up to find Henry staring at him with a fond expression. Warmth flooded through Joey’s chest as he returned the smile, feeling high on love and sugar.

“Hi,” he breathed, sounding as love sick as he felt.

Henry’s smile brightened, filling the whole room with light and Joey could have sworn he could hear the swell of violins in the soundtrack of his life.

“Hi,” Henry replied easily as if he hadn’t stolen Joey’s breath, heart and soul. “You- umm, cream, here!”

Henry tapped his own nose.

“Oh cock!” Joey hurried to wipe his nose, almost spilling his hot chocolate in the process, “Fuck! Bugger, shit balls!”

Henry, the bastard, just laughed, his arms reaching out to steady the mug and stop Joey from falling to the ground. “I think you made it worse.”

Joey snorted “I got that, yup, thanks.”

This time he could feel the sticky sweet cream clinging to his cheek, the subtle taste of vanilla on his lips. He pouted up at Henry, gazing through his eyelashes in a way that he hoped could be played off as friendly, but also maybe a little bit seductive. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he barely resisted the urge to wink.

Maybe there had been more Bailey’s in his drink than he realised.

Instead, he just wiped his face and snuggled back up to Henry, pulling the blanket up to his chin. They settled on watching Always Sunny, so Joey didn’t really have to concentrate. He let the tension drain from his body as he listened to the familiar TV show and then closed his eyes. Warm, happy and wrapped up in the arms of the man he loved-

Joey fell asleep.

He didn’t notice the way Henry was staring down at him as if he hung the fucking moon and stars, or the inner turmoil his friend was plague with as Henry resisted leaning down to kiss Joey in his sleep.

No, Joey was blissfully ignorant, sleeping better than he had in weeks.

________

The rest of lockdown went by in a blur. Their routine started to seem normal and any doubts Joey had about spending so much time with Henry faded away. They bantered easily like they had on set, laughing and giggling over whatever stupid thing one of them had said. Henry would spend hours playing his video games whilst Joey zoomed Madeleine to work on their new album together. When the regulations relaxed they started to walk Kal together, enjoying the quiet summer days and fresh air. The cuddling never really stopped, and some mornings Joey would wake up still curled up against Henry’s chest, their limbs tangled from the night before.

Those were Joey’s favourite mornings. He’d be stiff all day from sleeping on the couch but he could pretend, for just a few moments, that things were more than they were.

The pining never went away but it was truly the sweetest torture that he’d ever had to endure. The domestic bliss being barely a step away from everything he craved.

And when the time came for Joey to return to his flat with Madeleine, he felt like shit. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in the strange fantasy world he had with Henry, eating too much food and drinking too much wine, cuddling and watching crappy Netflix shows.

Which was why he was sat, staring at a messy pile of clothes on his bed, clothes he’d not worn in weeks. Over the chair were his onesies and a collection of jumpers and hoodies that he’d stolen from Henry over the last few months and weeks. Kal stared up at him from the floor, tail thumping against the carpet.

Joey sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying desperately to ignore the ache in his chest that was growing more painful with everything second that passed. “I don’t know, Kal. I should be happy about going home.”

Kal didn’t respond, his tail still wagging away just like it always did whenever Joey paid attention to him.

“I miss Madeleine, of course I do, but living with Henry has been great. And you, I love you, big fluffy puppy!” He cooed with a big smile as Kal barked happily and jumped up onto the bed. Joey laughed as he tried to keep his face away from the attack, wrapping his arms around Kal’s neck and pressing his nose into the fur.

“If I tell him how I feel that’s just going to make season two really really awkward, but I just feel like I’m missing a chance, you know?”

If Kal knew, he either didn’t care or just enjoyed watching Joey suffer. There was no reply and Kal just rested his head in Joey’s lap.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, still running his fingers through Kal’s fur. “You’re no use.”

Kal snorted at that and Joey rolled his eyes.

“But I love you anyway, yes I do!”

“Ready to go?” Henry asked from the door.

“Shit!” Joey yelped. “How long have you been standing there?!”

Henry chuckled, striding into the room and perching on the bed opposite Joey. He reached out to scratch Kal on the head with a dazzling smile. Joey felt his cheeks warm up and he buried his face in Kal’s fur to hide the blush. So many months and he still couldn’t stop his heart from racing whenever Henry smiled. He was pathetic.

And he was running out of time.

He knew it was a bad idea, even entertaining the thought of dating a co-star, but he’d regret it if he didn’t give it a shot. I mean he could always blame the mixed signals if it went wrong. They’d nearly kissed twice and Joey didn’t even cuddle Madeleine as much as he’d cuddled Henry. They were probably the only people that were less touch-starved during the lockdown than before.

So Joey was going to tell him.

Just three words.

He could do that.

Fuck!

He couldn’t do that.

“Joey?” Henry said, reaching out to squeeze Joey’s shoulder.

Joey blinked. Had Henry been talking to him? He’d asked a question so that would make sense. God, his anxiety had gone through the roof, it was like that first day all over again.

“Need to pack,” he mumbled, gesturing at his clothes.

Henry let out a long and heavy sigh, sounding just as thrilled about the idea as Joey did. “I suppose you do, yeah. When is Madeleine due over?”

Joey hummed, glancing at his watch. “Ten minutes ago. Lockdown traffic must be a thing of the past.”

“Pity.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighed.

Neither of them moved, both staring glumly at Kal who was happily nestled between them. It was strange but Joey had almost begun to think of Kal as his, theirs. Their home, their life, their dog. He would miss Kal very much.

He would miss Henry even more.

“Do you have a start date yet?” Joey asked, the restrictions were lifting and there were talks about getting back to work again, but it was all up in the air.

Henry shook his head. “Should be getting a call from my agent some time this week. I need to make sure my other projects can work around the schedule.”

Joey smirked, “Or my dear witcher will have a new face next time we meet,” he teased.

Henry scoffed. “Not a chance, you’re stuck with me, bard.”

“You still owe me an apology,” Joey shot back, not quite realising how close they’d gotten during their mock argument.

He swallowed and licked his lips, one hand reaching up to scratch the stubble on his cheek. His face was burning right up to the tips of his ears, his heart thumping in his chest. There was a spark of electricity crackling between them, the scent of coffee lingering on Henry’s breath.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Henry promised, voice hoarse and low, making heat spread through Joey’s body and the world around them seemed to disappear.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry breathed, the words shaky.

Joey longed to reach out and brush his fingertips along the strong line of Henry’s jaw, to feel the scratch of stubble beneath his skin. He longed to tangle his hands in the dark mess of curls, to see if they were really as soft as they looked. It felt as if there was a magnetic force pulling them closer, a string tying their souls together, binding them as one. Joey couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to, and he was over that. He couldn’t live inside his head any longer, not when there was a chance.

Hope.

Deadly, poisoning his very soul, until he could think of nothing except Henry’s lips on his, hands roaming bodies, pulling at hair, unable to resist the promised pleasures of sin. Tongues tangling. Hearts singing. One breath shared between two. Heat. Lust. Love.

Just Henry.

His love.

Joey closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Henry’s, their lips barely ghosting over each other, you really couldn’t call it a kiss; not yet. One more breath, a millimetre to close the gap.

A horn honked from outside and they pulled apart before they could cross the bridge, past the point of no return.

Joey let out a slightly manic laugh and ran his hands through his hair, whilst Henry went back to stroking Kal as he cleared his throat.

“Bollocks, I still haven’t packed.”

“I’ll invite Madeleine in for some tea,” Henry chuckled, stretching as he stood up.

Kal barked happily and jumped down, wagging his tail as he sniffed at Henry’s socks.

And Joey was left alone once more.

“Fuck!” he groaned, covering his face as he flopped back onto his pillows.

By the time he finished packing, Madeleine and Henry were laughing away in the kitchen like old friends.

Like Joey and Henry had so many times.

He wasn’t special. Henry was just that guy.

Hope.

Dangerous and lethal, stabbing into the heart and tearing the soul apart.

“Ready,” Joey mumbled, holding up his suitcase and guitar. “Might take a couple of trips, I have another bag upstairs and the damn lute.”

“Not sure I ever heard you play the lute?” Henry teased.

“Yeah well,” Joey grumbled and turned away from the kitchen before he could start crying.

He really really didn’t want to cry in front of Henry. What was a little heartbreak between friends? At least he could channel that into Jaskier whenever they finally got back onto set. God, he was a fucking mess.

“I’ll help you,” Henry volunteered because of course he would. He probably just wanted Joey gone sooner.

The poor bloke probably couldn’t wait to have his own space back without Joey’s inedible attempts at cooking, non-stop music and chatter, lazy slobbish evenings in front of the TV.

He wasn’t going to cry.

He wasn’t.

Fuck!

Joey sniffed and stumbled out the door, his hands gripping his suitcase so tight he thought he might break the handle. Back home with Madeleine, to his life, and his bed, and nights spent drinking too much wine and lurking on social media.

He’d just about managed to throw his suitcase into the boot when he heard a loud bark behind him, followed by Henry grunting. Joey was almost knocked off his feet as Kal bundled into him, circling around as he jumped up, winding the lead around Joey’s body and pulling a poor Henry with him.

Not that Joey was particularly complaining about having Henry pressed up against him, but did it have to be when he was crying?

Henry cursed, struggling to keep hold of the lead. Their faces were close and they had to wrap their arms around each other to keep steady. Joey laughed through his tears, reminded of a similar moment from one of his favourite Disney films.

Only Kal was a lot bigger than a Dalmatian.

“I don’t think he wants you to leave?” Henry said, smiling sheepishly.

Joey smiled back despite his broken heart. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I- I don’t want you to leave either,” Henry whispered so quietly that Joey wasn’t sure whether he’d heard it at all. “I- umm, I like having you here… with me.”

“Oh,” Joey replied stupidly.

“Fuck, I- Joey… Can- can I kiss you?”

The world turned upside down. Joey's heart stopped and everything started to spin. He tried to process the words but nothing seemed to make sense. There was no fucking way that Henry had said that, that he wanted to- wanted to…

Fuck!

“Oh,” he repeated, blinking at Henry as he licked his lips. “I mean. Fuck. No, I mean… Christ. Yes. Please. Yes.”

Henry chuckled and cupped his cheek, pressing their lips together in the most tender of kisses, taking Joey’s breath away right there on the pavement. Joey just giggled when they parted and then swooped back in for another kiss, and another-

And he never wanted to stop.

He didn’t need to breathe, he just needed this; Henry’s lips on his.

Henry had other ideas though, pulling away with a blinding smile.

“Stay with me?”

Joey nodded and threw his arms around Henry’s neck. “God, yes.”

And then they kissed some more. They had months of lockdown to catch up on, after all.

[the-bee-graveyard]

Congrats on 100 followers!!! How about kitty?

Thank you Fae ❤️

I’m sorry this took so long, I’m lazy

Requests are still open, go here for more details

Alright I call this one Windows, it’s inspired by the scene in Riverdale where Kevin and Betty are talking about Archie because it’s the one thing I remember about that show and it fits:

Twin sisters can be a lot of things. They can be best friends, forever companions. They can also be clingy, and nosy, and they can scare the shit out of you when they sneak into your room unannounced and you look up from looking out your window to see her standing next to you smiling like she was about to commit a murder.

“Shit Livvy!” Ty exclaimed, jumping back. His cat, Irene, hissed and leaped off his bed, coming to rub herself up against Livvy.

“What are we looking at?” Livvy asked, punching Ty on the arm playfully. It didn’t hurt but he flinched, and she moved herself to make sure she wasn’t touching him.

“Nothing,” Ty said quickly, trying to think of a way to close the blinds on his window without Livvy noticing. As if she could read his mind Livvy looked out the window and let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “Kit got hot.”

Kit Herondale had been their neighbor since the fifth grade when the nice couple next door Tessa and Jem adopted him. He’d been friends with the Blackthorn’s since the sixth. Ty had a huge crush on him since the seventh, Livvy found out about it in the eighth, Kit went to visit family in England at the end of the ninth for the summer, and now they were all back here at the beginning of tenth grade, Kit looking like a whole Greek god.

Ty peeled out the window again. Kit had his window open (he always did) and he sat on his bed shirtless, looking down at his phone. He looked up for a second and Livvy waved. Kit smiles and waved back before looking down at his phone again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ty hissed. “Now he’s going to know we were watching him, and he’s going to think we’re creeps, and he’s going to tell everyone we’re creeps, and we’ll forever be known as the creepy stalker twins next door.”

“Can’t be worse than Mark being known as ‘strawberry boy’,” Livvy shrugged, referring to when their older brother went to a restaurant and ordered a plate of strawberries.

“It’s a lot worse than strawberry boy.”

“None of that is going to happen, I was just waving hello. We’ve all waved below a hundred times from this window. You need to calm down.” Ty fought the urge to throw a shoe at his sister. Calm down? How the hell was he supposed to calm down? Why don’t they all just start freaking meditating, because apparently, he was the one who needed to calm down. “He stares at you to you know, which means two things. One, the two of you need to start closing your blinds. Two, he totally likes you back.” Ty blushed.

“No he doesn’t,” Ty said. “Now promise me you won’t get involved.” Livvy stayed silent. “Livia Blackthorn, promise me.”

“Fine, fine,” Livvy sighed. “I promise.” 

“Good,” Ty said cheerily, off to go find his bee plushie before bed, he’d let Tavvy borrow it, and Tavvy had a horrible habit of not returning things to their rightful spot.

*Time jump to the morning*

“Ty, please get the door!” His mother, Eleanor called (Author’s Note: Eleanor’s alive because I said so) Ty opened their from door to reveal Kit standing there, a grin that should look ridiculous plastered on his face, but Ty found it cute.

“How’s my favorite Blackthorn doing?” Kit asked.

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking Christopher,” Ty’s little sister, Dru said as she walked by them. 

“I see you still have an attitude problem,” Kit said.

“How was England?” Dru asked. “Are you as big an asshole to the British as you are to the Americans?”

“Drusilla Blackthorn, we don’t fucking swear in my damn house.” Kit gave a dramatic gasp. Ty was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, Kit was good at that. “Shit! And yes, Christopher Jonathan Herondale doesn't discriminate, he’s an asshole to all.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Ty frowned, making Kit’s smile widened. He lost the frown, it was hard to frown when Kit smiled like that. Ty cursed his heart slamming in his chest, he swore everyone else could hear it. 

“Is Livvy walking with us?” Kit asked. They’d agreed before Kit left that summer to walk together for the first day of school, and Ty was touched Kit didn’t forget. He certainly hadn’t, he’d been waiting every day since Kit left to see him again.

“Livvy will not be walking to school with you,” Livvy said from the stairs. “Livvy’s getting a ride with Julian and Emma, it’s too hot to walk. Livvy will also stop talking it the third person, it’s fucking annoying.” Bullshit, Ty thought. Livvy’d rather walk through the desert than ride with Julian and Emma, she always complained about their obnoxious amount of PDA. And if Livvy went with Julian and Emma then he’d be stuck all alone with Kit and things would get awkward and Kit would find out about Ty’s crush and he’d hate Ty and Ty would have to flee the country to avoid seeing him every day.

Ty was about to tell his sister to suck it up and grab her backpack when his mother walked into the room. “Kit! Hello!” Eleanor said, waving enthusiastically with one hand, the other hand fiddling with a pipe cleaner. 

“Hi Mrs. Bla- Eleanor,” Kit said. Eleanor insisted no one called her Mrs. Blackthorn, she said it sounded too formal and it made her feel old.

“I just came to tell you to have a good first day Ty,” Eleanor said. She came over a kissed her son on the forehead, slipping his fidget toy in his pocket quickly before heading back to the kitchen. “I love you!” She called.

“Should we get going then?” Kit asked. Ty nodded and wrapped his backpack, putting his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t flap so much. Kit said it many times before he liked it when Ty flapped his hands, but Ty was just used to hiding it. 

“I thought of you all summer,” Kit said as soon as they walked far from the Blackthorn house. “I missed you so much. You’re so much better than Tessa’s Aunt Harriet.”

“At least you got to go abroad,” Ty sighed. “All I got was listening to Livvy complain about the heat and Dru ranting about the new season of some horror show she watches.”

“Mark and Helen came home though, didn’t he?” Mark went to college in New York with his boyfriend Kieran and girlfriend Cristina, and Helen and her wife Aline both had high paying jobs as lawyers in New York too,

“Yeah, Helen and Aline came for a week and then Mark came for two,” Ty explained. “Helen brought me a keychain for my bag, and she brought me a copy of A Study In Scarlet. Of course, I already own it, but this one was a different edition.” Ty paused. “Am I boring you?”

“Never,” Kit replied. Ty looked at the other boy and saw the other boy staring at him. Kit then whispered something, so quietly Ty almost didn’t here him, “I love you Ty, I love you.” Ty stood still, his body refusing to move. Plenty of people said I love you, but those were just words. And even if Kit did mean them, that didn’t mean he meant them in a romantic way. 

By the time Ty came out of his frozen state Kit had already turned and begun to run in the other direction. Kit was fast, but Ty was faster. He caught up to Kit in no time even though the other boy had a head start and grabbed his wrist. Kit spun around, his eyes filled with tears that hadn’t fell yet.

“Can I-” Ty asked. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Kit asked. Ty pressed his lips to Kit’s, and the kiss was everything Ty could have imagined. When they finally pulled apart Kit had the same ridiculous grin from earlier on his face.

“We’re going to be late to school,” Ty said.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well it’s the truth.”

“Won’t be the first time.” 

“For me it will be.”

“I forgot what a goody two-shoes you are.”

“Fuck you.” Ty took Kit’s hand and smiled as they finished their walk to school.

Maybe twin sisters weren’t so bad.

Ty’s phone buzzed.

Livvy: Get your mans bitch

He took it back, twin sisters were definitely that bad.

[saphie3243]

First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.  

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There  was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this. 

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year. 

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting. 

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass. 

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.” 

__

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares. 

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it. 

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.” 

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers. 

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented. 

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.” 

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.” 

“Why is there an R in it?” 

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.  

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?” 

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes. 

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop. 

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?” 

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?” 

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me.  Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first. 

“Not sure, why?” 

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta. 

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.” 

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.  

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew. 

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.” 

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced. 

“I would have picked you up if you asked.” 

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian. 

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch. 

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either. 

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.” 

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper. 

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.”  Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.” 

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t push. 

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.” 

__

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in. 

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted. 

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window. 

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved. 

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning. 

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him. 

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.” 

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.” 

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle. 

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do. 

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out? 

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited. 

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal. 

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.” 

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?” 

“The bacon looks done.” 

“Azriel.” 

He sighed. “No.” 

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.” 

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him. 

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered. 

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.” 

__

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.” 

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then. 

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room. 

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year… 

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up -  but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents! 

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice. 

“I honestly don’t know.” 

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?” 

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year. 

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked. 

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices...  even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society. 

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip. 

“It is the longest night of the year.” 

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army. 

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.” 

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?” 

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed. 

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them. 

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring. 

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another. 

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.” 

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.” 

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.” 

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something. 

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time. 

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there. 

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound. 

“Devlon,” she said very carefully. 

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.” 

“We need to get him out.” 

“His friends will get him out.” 

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it. 

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.” 

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit. 

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own? 

“Nesta!” 

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?”  She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso. 

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie. 

“He needs a healer.” 

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.” 

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

__

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night. 

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table. 

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know. 

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter. 

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong. 

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.” 

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway. 

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note. 

Dear Nesta, 

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help. 

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry. 

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me. 

Your sister, 

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out. 

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who? 

“You’re up.” 

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?” 

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.” 

“How’s the boy?” 

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.” 

“That’s good.” 

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?” 

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed. 

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

(Un)Wanted Part 3

Read on Ao3 

(Un)Wanted Masterlist

A child that sees demons in every dark corner is not a child that is wanted.

A child that cries and freezes and mumbles of terrible things is not a child that is wanted.

A child that jumps and startles and hisses is not a child that is wanted.

Unwanted things are purged from the Earth.

So Virgil runs.

In other words: Virgil is an outcast, ostracized and shunned for how he was born, forced to flee an angry mob only to stumble right into a fae garden.

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/Referenced torture, child abuse, and self-harm, nothing super explicit. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks.

Word Count: 7,040

Words are fucking stupid if you ask Remus.

Mortals have no idea what they’re doing with them and half the time they just make shit up and expect everyone else to go along with it. They don’t know what words are supposed to mean and half the time they try and pin down something that can’t be made into a single word into one and it’s just a big mess. There is one exception.

 Feral.

 Remus isn’t quite sure what gave mortals this one stroke of genius but he’s grateful for it. Feral. Even the word sounds like chaos. Which is just Remus’s cup of snail intestines.

 Feral, or more accurately, going feral, is the closest thing a fae gets to absolute bat-shit. Which, in fairness, by mortal standards, isn’t that bat-shit. Oh, yeah, sure mortals don’t have nearly the firepower of the fae, but let’s be real, here folks, mortals perfected the clockwork of murder far better than any fae could hope to.

 Going feral means what little hold a fae has on this fucking stupid temporal plane is tenuous at best. It means that bits of their aura manifest in ways that quickly go beyond the pitiful visible spectrum that mortals can tolerate. It means shapes and colors and energies that aren’t meant to be seen by mortal eyes, all barely held together by a flexible container of mostly water. A body, if you prefer the un-fun definition.

 Going feral is the fine line between creation and destruction.

 Remus is the one who goes feral the most often, even though it’s not why you think. It’s not directly tied to emotion, not really. If it was, Patton would be going feral every two seconds. It’s not even tied to sheer raw power. As much as Remus hates to admit it, that’s probably Snakey, even if it is only through his role as Gatekeeper.

 No no no. It’s much worse than that.

 Sir Nerd-A-Lot was right when he said that each of their ‘rooms’ is a slightly different layer of reality, something mortals can’t understand because of the way they’re made in this world. Although Remus’s way of understanding it wasn’t some tender touching of hands or soft words of explanation.

 The rooms are different ways to see.

 L’s room is like a normal pair of glasses. Makes things sharper, easier to understand, clearer. Less ambiguity.

 J’s room is like looking through mist or fog. More gray areas, easier to twist the truth to what you want to see, easier to let your mind play tricks on you. Less easy to figure out exactly what’s going on.

 Patton’s room is like always being in that weird soft stage mortals always say they have when they’re really sleepy. Not tired, because of course not, words are stupid. Sleepy is soft yawns and smiles and too-long sleeves and adorable smiles that make Remus want to pinch their cheeks until they fall off. Tired is squinty eyes and muttered complaints and downing that mysterious brown liquid. Patton’s room is being sleepy, everything a little softer, sweet enough to make Remus’s teeth ache.

 His brother’s room is, uh, well. Remus really doesn’t know what makes his brother’s room that different from his when you get right down to it. It’s like…it’s like looking in two different mirrors. Princey’s room is like that mirror that always shows you what you’d like to see. It’s the one that makes your hair do whatever the fuck you want it to do or makes your eyes glimmer like whatever the fuck you want them to glimmer like. It’s dreamy and it’s whatever and Princey seems to like it. And yeah, okay, Remus isn’t too big to admit that his brother’s good at what he does, even if it’s a little boring for his taste.

 Remus’s room is like looking into a mirror and the mirror looking back into you.

 Remus doesn’t really give a shit about what mortals would rather tell themselves about what it is they really want or don’t want. He’s with Snakey on that one; mortals don’t really know what it is they want, and if they do, they rarely say it out loud. That’s okay. Remus can do that.

 Remus lurks in the darkness, where mortals would rather not look. He delights in the twisted little things that straggle across their brains. It’s so much more interesting, looking at the absolutely horrible things that drift through their little minds and how much it makes them squirm. He’ll never understand why they try so hard to pretend they don’t exist, they make things so much more interesting.

 And that’s the problem.

 Remus is tied to those dark little things and sometimes…sometimes those dark little things don’t stay so dark and little.

 Sometimes they come out and they’re darker in the daylight. Sometimes they take that darkness and force it somewhere it should never go. Sometimes they try and pretend that their darkness is other people’s fault.

 That pisses Remus off.

 Mortals hurt each other. That’s what they do. Sure, they also do a whole lot of other things but mortals feel. That’s what they’re built to do. So it’s inevitable that they’ll get hurt. But the darkness it takes to blame someone or something else for your darkness? That type of darkness makes Remus’s stomach curl.

 Literally. He can feel it squirming around in there.

 Or maybe that’s just the tentacles.

 Listen, mortal forms and mortal-like forms are so stupid, okay? There’s no place to put anything and Remus has to make do.

 When he goes feral, well…different story.

 Remus hasn’t gone feral in a while. Not really. Not like this.

 Not like the agony that was pushed into him by the snake, not like the ants that crawled around in his bones, not like the way it stripped him of himself, layer by layer, until he could only smile until his cheeks ached.

 There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain.

 Then he’d showed up in the garden and seen. Seen this tiny tiny mortal that should never have this much pain. Seen the lines drawn in burned wood in its head, seen the fear that clung to the little thing like water clings to a dead leaf, seen the marks.

 And then they had been so cold.

 Mortals aren’t supposed to be cold. They’re fiery little beasties, even the prissy ones. Their blood runs hot and their little heads like to run themselves silly and they have an awful tendency to burn themselves up with just the slightest push.

 V shivered. V shook. V trembled and his skin had been so icy Remus had been teetering on the edge of going feral before he learned that other mortals did this to V.

 He hadn’t really tried to stop it after that.

 When he had V in his arms, it was better. He could feel V’s darkness scrabbling around inside his head, had been able to wrap his arms around it, hold it tight, feel so much and try and make it settle down.

 Double-edged sword, that was.

 Here’s the thing. Here’s the fucking problem.

 V’s carrying around darkness that isn’t his.

 Whatever monsters did this to him—he shouldn’t fucking call them monsters, monsters were better than this—made him carry around their darkness. Not his. Remus doesn’t even fucking know what darkness is V’s and what darkness has been made V’s. It’s like they picked one person, one person, and made them responsible for everyone’s darkness.

 Mortals don’t like darkness.

 Remus can’t imagine what they must have done if they gave their darkness a singular, corporeal, punishable form.

 Well, no. He can imagine. That’s the fucking problem.

 That’s the main reason why he pulled V aside and told him that, uh, maybe going to his room wasn’t the best idea. Don’t get him wrong, if V wants to Remus will sure as hell take him, that’s cool, but uh…might be a bad time. Thankfully, V didn’t seem too bothered by it, well…not more bothered. Remus wasn’t about to look a gift gulper eel in the mouth.

 Seriously. Uma likes to eat some weird shit.

 The lake is Remus’s favorite part of the forest, just because it’s the only place he really gets to work with his brother. Princey’s great at making everything else but like…it gets boring. Plus, they work better together anyway, even when they don’t agree all the time.

 V’s got a much better appreciation for his stuff anyway.

 Speaking of V, he’s sitting at the edge of the lake, knees tucked up to his chest, idly toying with a branch that drifted over to the shore. Remus paddles over, using his tentacles to keep him afloat as he cocks his head.

 “Find something interesting?”

 V shrugs. “It’s just a stick.”

 …yeah, but like…it could be something else.

 “Wanna play with it?”

 V’s brow wrinkles. “How do you play with a stick?”

 Ignoring the rush of what fucking mortal child doesn’t know how to play with anything and everything, Remus grins and whistles. A few seconds later the water’s surface stirs as something big trundles up to the surface.

 “Ollie!”

 The kraken burbles, wrapping Remus in an arm and giving him a light squeeze. Then it notices V, curled up on the shore, and hums, the water rippling all around it, as it moves toward the edge.

 “Be careful,” Remus scolds as it pulls him with, “don’t beach yourself.”

 Oliver protests lightly, before huffing and reaching out to lay one tentacle in the shallows. V smiles—Remus is so fucking happy V’s smiling now, okay? It’s so good—and waves. Oliver pokes the end of the tentacle out of the water and waves back.

 “Your name is Ollie?”

 “I call him Oliver,” Remus says, patting the tentacle still around his waist.

 “Hi, Oliver,” V says softly, “it’s nice to meet you.”

 The kraken rumbles happily, reaching out for V.

 “Hey!” Remus lightly smacks the tentacle. “Ask first!”

 “A-ask what?”

 “He wants to hug you.” Sure enough, the tentacle near V twitches slightly, water pouring off the sides as it raises out of the lake. V watches it move warily. “he won’t hurt you, V, he’s sweet.”

 Oliver burbles again.

 “You don’t gotta,” Remus says quickly, “if you don’t wanna.”

 V reaches out one hand, trembling slightly as the kraken reaches out to meet him. He pats the arm. Remus grins as Oliver gently taps him back.

 “You wanna play with him?”

 “How?”

 “Throw the stick.”

 “L-like a dog?”

 “You throw dogs?” At V’s horrified face, Remus bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Yeah, V. Ollie likes playing fetch.”

 V’s brow wrinkles adorably. “Really?”

 Remus grins. “Ollie!” The kraken turns its head to look up at him. “Toss!”

 The kraken rears back the arm and hurls Remus across the lake.

 “Wheee!”

 There’s nothing quite like being flung through the air and splashing down into a nice big body of water. Using his own tentacles to propel him back over to the other side, Oliver trills and reaches for him again.

 “Ask,” Remus chides lightly, only to giggle and pat the arm that curls around his waist again. “You just want to hug? Okay.”

 He turns to V, whose mouth is wide open. “See? Fetch.”

 “That…that’s not normally how fetch works.”

 Remus shrugs. “Ollie likes it.”

 “Do..do you like it?”

 “Yeah, I like it. It’s fun!”

 Oliver reaches out slowly for V, laying the arm next to him on the shore. V glances at Remus before carefully reaching for the stick and nervously offering it to Oliver. Oliver takes it and passes it to Remus who grins.

 “Ready?”

 V nods.

 “Ollie, toss!”

 This time, as Oliver hurls him across the lake, Remus chucks the stick as hard as he can away from him, laughing when Oliver trills and dives after it. As Remus swims back, he sees V scramble to his feet, peering anxiously into the distance.

 “Don’t worry,” Remus calls, treading water, “he’ll find it and come back. He always does.”

 Sure enough, not a few seconds later, and the water parts, revealing a very pleased Oliver and a stick clutched delicately in one of his arms. V’s eyes widen as Oliver holds it out, taking the proffered stick carefully.

 “See?” Remus beams. “Fetch.”

 “Fetch,” V echoes breathlessly, “good job, Oliver.”

 “You wanna do it again?” V nods. “Great. Chuck the stick at me.”

 “Wait, but...what if it hits you?”

 “I’m a fucking fae, V, and it’s a fucking stick. Chuck it at me.”

 Remus catches the stick even if he has to lift himself out of the water to do it. Oliver burbles and Remus nods, letting Oliver curl around his waist again.

 “V,” he calls, “you wanna tell him this time?”

 Glancing back and forth between the two of them, V nods. “Toss!”

 Oliver launches Remus with more enthusiasm than he has in a while. So much so that Remus laughs the whole way across the lake and the whole way back.

 “I think he’s trying to impress you,” he remarks when Oliver zips back and forth faster and faster.

 “I’m impressed.”

 Oliver lays the stick on the grass and reaches out for V. V pats the arm only for his eyes to widen when Oliver reaches further and rumbles.

 “He wants to pick you up, V,” Remus explains.

 “D-does he want to throw me?”

 “I’m sure he’d love it if you let him,” Remus says, quickly continuing when V balks, “but I think right now he really just wants to hold you.”

 V still looks unsure. Remus taps his fingers against the arm around his waist, thinking.

  Hmmm…

  Oh hey wait I’ve fucking got it.

 “V?”

 “Y-yeah?”

 “You wanna ride?”

 V’s eyes widen. “Ride?”

 “Yeah.” Remus gestures around. “Lake’s fucking huge, and there’s cool shit everywhere. Plus, Ollie likes you a lot and he’d be real happy to give you a ride if you wanted.”

 Oliver trills in agreement.

 “…okay,” V mumbles eventually, “can I…can I have a ride?”

 “Sure you can. You wanna swim out and let me help you up or you want Ollie to set you on his head?”

 “I—I can do it.”

 “Cool.” Oliver sets Remus on his head and Remus shifts around a bit, trying to work out where the most secure place for V to sit would be. He glances up when V carefully steps into the water, having removed his boots. Oliver shifts around slowly, arranging his tentacles into stairs that V can use to get up.

 “D-duke?”

 “Yeah?”

 “H-how do I get up?”

 “You can climb, climb his arms.”

 V tilts his head. “What if I hurt him?”

 It makes Remus chuckle. “V, you’re tiny. You’re small and light and you’re a mortal. You probably couldn’t hurt him if you tried, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing this if it was gonna hurt. You’re all good, climb up.”

 V climbs, slowly and carefully, always wary about where he’s putting his hands or his feet, until he steps onto Oliver’s head and sinks down next to Remus.

 “Good job!” Remus shuffles a little closer. “Ollie’ll go slow for you, but if you wanna hang onto something, you just lemme know, okay?”

 V nods. Remus pats the head under them.

 “Okay! You be nice, yeah? You’re carrying precious cargo here.”

 Remus bites back a laugh at V’s nervous squeak when Oliver rumbles, starting to move. He scrabbles a little for a handhold.

 “Here,” Remus suggests, flopping onto his stomach, “get low. Less chance of falling off.”

 V just curls into himself, trying to hold onto something. Remus frowns, then carefully sits up as Oliver finishes turning toward the rest of the lake.

 “You can hang onto me if you want,” he offers, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 “Can I?”

 “Mhm.” Remus shifts a little closer, opening his arms. “Or I can hang onto you.”

 Nothing feels better than the satisfaction of having V crawl into his lap, letting Remus cuddle him with his back against Remus’s chest, tentacles hanging onto Oliver. Oliver rumbles happily, lazily swimming around the edge of the lake. As they go, he can feel V start to relax, some of the tension seeping out as he slumps against Remus. Remus smiles, closing his eyes to just feel V not being so afraid, for once, feel that pain start to lessen, even if it’s just the smallest bit. Let a little bit of the darkness be chased away.

 By the time they’re back to the familiar shore, Oliver eases gingerly into the shallows and hums. Remus chuckles.

 “Good workout today, huh, buddy?”

 Another rumble.

 “Come on,” he mutters to V, “you want me to help you down or you got it?”

 “I got it.”

 Remus opens his arms and watches V climb back down just as gingerly, giving Oliver one last pat before sitting on the shore. An arm wraps around Remus’s waist and squeezes.

 “Yeah, yeah, I had fun too, buddy. You go eat something?”

 Oliver gives one last rumble and disappears below the surface of the lake. Remus hauls himself out and flops down on the grass beside V, stretching lazily. Snakey’s got a point with this whole sun-warmed surface thing. He can feel himself relaxing.

 “Thank you.”

 At V’s mumble, Remus opens one eye. “Sure, you’re welcome. You have fun?”

 “Mhm.”

 “I’m glad.”

 There’s another stretch of silence. Remus sits up, looking at how V stares at the lake. It’s one of the only times V’s brow isn’t furrowed. Remus decides he likes it better than way.

 “I like the lake,” V confesses quietly, almost too quiet for Remus to hear. “It’s nice.”

 The note of childish wonder in his voice makes Remus feel…weird. It’s not a bad weird, it’s not necessarily a good weird either though. It’s just…weird. Like there’s something fluffy in his chest, something that really wants to make V always sound like this.

 “Good.” Remus shifts a little closer. “What do you like about it?”

 V thinks for a moment, tucking his knees up to his chest. “I like the water.”

 “The water?”

 A small nod. “Water is good.”

 Something changes.  A little darkness colors V’s tone and Remus sits up a little straighter.

 “…’good?’” He tests the word out on his tongue. “Why is water good, V?”

 “Because it isn’t fire.” V curls in on himself. “Fire is bad.”

 The fluff is gone.

  Pain pain pain pain there’s flames rising higher and higher as the crowd grows more and more restless there are sparks and smoke and the wood burns slowly so slowly so slowly the flames creep higher and higher and the man holds a torch aloft and it burns it burns it burns it’s getting closer no please not now—

 “Duke! Duke!”

 Remus growls, the power seeping through him. How dare they, how fucking dare they, the darkness rolls off in waves, crashing, building, flowing higher and higher and higher and—

 “Shh, shh, you stay behind me, okay?”

 It runs deeper. Pushes. Pulls. Opens his mouth. Tilts his head back. The tentacles writhe. The lake trembles. So much. So much.

 “Duke, duke, I need you to listen to me.”

 …Princey?

 What’s Princey doing here?

 “Duke. Duke. You need to stop, you’re scaring V.”

  V.

 Remus growls again, closing his eyes and swallowing the darkness. It sinks into a pit in his chest and he swallows, pushing it back into the depths and away from him. Away from V.

 He growls, curling in on himself, willing the mass of tentacles to behave, settle down, holding himself tightly and trying to dissipate the extra energy.

 “Good…that’s it. Both of you just have a breather, okay?”

 Remus opens his eyes. He’s by the lake. There’s no one here to hurt anyone. He’s alright. They’re alright. He takes one more breath and the last of the mania settles.

  V.

 He looks over and regret burns a hole in his chest. The prince stands there, having pulled V behind him, one hand held out towards Remus, the other hovering protectively over V. V’s curled in on himself so tightly he can barely see him behind the prince.

 Fuck. He fucked up. Did he…

 “…is he blind?” Remus manages, unable to tear his eyes away from this poor poor thing.

 “No,” the prince says softly, “he’s not.”

 “Fuck.”

 “Yeah.” The prince looks at him with a soft fury. “Come on, Re, you know better.”

 “It hurts, Ro,” Remus mutters, unable to stop himself from slipping into the nickname, “it…it’s fucking painful.”

 “Does it hurt still?”

 “Like maggots crawling under my skin.”

 The prince winces sympathetically. “How do you think it is for V?”

 “I know,” Remus mutters angrily, “I’m pissed about that too.”

 They both stop, looking at V huddled on the ground, shaking and mumbling something. Fuck. Fuck, what has Remus done?

 They just fucking got him feeling safe, he just got comfortable asking for things, hell he’s just started being able to sleep in his room…did Remus fuck all of that up?

 “…ke.”

 Remus blinks, straining to hear. The prince does too, turning his head to look down at V. Neither speaks.

 “…ke…d…ke…”

 Remus’s chest clenches.

 “…duke…duke…”

 The prince drops to one knee, reaching out to gather V close. “It’s alright, V, breathe…shh, you’re alright, sweetheart, no one’s hurt.”

 “Duke…”

 “He’s alright, sweetheart, he’s okay.”

 “Duke.”

 The way V’s voice cracks hurts almost as much as going feral did. Remus watches helplessly as V rocks himself back and forth, his arms wrapped so tightly around himself that he can hardly see where one ends and the other begins. He keeps shaking his head, mumbling ‘duke’ over and over.

 The prince glances at Remus then back to V. “…do you want the duke, sweetheart?”

 “…d-duke…”

 Remus swallows. Please, please let this be right.

 “...V?”

 V keens, one of his hands slowly reaching out. Remus scrambles forward, almost knocking his brother out of the way. The prince merely huffs. Remus stares at V, hoping, hoping…

 “V, can you hear me?”

 “Duke?”

 “Yeah, V, it’s me, I’m—I’m sorry.”

 “Duke.”

 “Can I—“

 Remus doesn’t get to finish his sentence. V doesn’t quite throw himself into Remus, but it’s close. Remus wraps around him immediately, tentacles and all, curling in on V as V clings to him, tighter, tighter, tighter.

 “Oh, you two,” he hears the prince murmur distantly, “what will we do with you?”

 Remus doesn’t much care what his brother thinks right now. All he cares about is having V safe in his arms and alive and warm, holding onto him tightly. V keeps sobbing out ‘duke,’ over and over, slowly growing less and less frantic. The prince sits there, gently stroking his hand through Remus’s hair.

 It takes a while—much fucking longer than Remus would like—to finally get everyone to settle down. They slump there, on the ground, still curled around each other. The prince huffs a laugh, ruffling Remus’s hair before standing up.

 “I think you two,” he murmurs, “should talk, hmm?”

 Remus nods, still holding V tightly. The prince gives him a nod and vanishes back into the forest.

 “…V?”

 V shifts a little. “Mm?”

 “Can we talk about, uh, what just happened?”

 A few seconds pass and V scoots further into Remus’s lap. “…can we stay like this?”

 “Of course,” Remus says instantly, “we can stay like this. I, uh, I wanna apologize.”

 “For what?”

 Remus swallows. “Going feral. Scaring you. Almost blinding you.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “…I’m not mad at you.”

 “You’re not?”

 He feels V’s head shake against his neck. “It—I—mmphf.”

 “Take your time,” Remus says quickly, “I’m not gonna let go if you don’t want.”

 “Don’t…”

 He squeezes. “I won’t.”

 V is the perfect little weight in his lap. Soft, not too heavy, just this side of too warm, cuddling into him with the persistence of a snuggle-deprived jellyfish.

 Oh, V should totally meet the school of jellyfish. He’d love them.

 “…no one’s ever done that before.”

 V’s voice is so quiet that for a moment, Remus isn’t even sure he’s spoken. Then he shifts again.

 “No one’s ever done that for me.”

 “…go feral?”

 V shakes his head. “…be protective.”

 Oh, this is not the time to be making such broken, heartfelt confessions because Remus can and will get pissed all over again at everything and everyone that made V think he wasn’t worth protecting.

 “…oh, little monster…”

 If V doesn’t like the pet name, he gives no indication. In fact…V almost burrows into him. Remus tightens his grip again, rocking V back and forth the way he remembers Patton doing.

 “I—I’ve never had—“ V gasps against his shoulder— “I don’t know how—it—I—“

 “Shh, little monster,” Remus burbles, trying really really fucking hard to remember how to do this, “you, uh, you just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You don’t have to know things.”

 “—I don’t wanna be afraid,” V manages, “I don’t wanna be afraid.”

 “You don’t have to be, little monster, you don’t.”

 “Y-you—“

 “Hang on, little monster,” Remus interrupts gently when V’s breaths start to get faster again, “you gotta slow down, come on…”

 They breathe together.

 “…yeah?”

 “You make me feel safe,” V blurts, “and—and I don’t wanna…I don’t wanna not.”

 His fingers tap out an anxious rhythm on Remus’s back.

 “Feral is scary.”

 “Feral is scary,” Remus murmurs in agreement, “and, uh, I’m trying not to do it.”

 He pulls back and gently nuzzles into V’s hair.

 “Don’t wanna scare you.”

 “No one’s ever been angry for me before,” V whispers, “it’s…it’s nice.”

 “Well, I’m not gonna stop being angry at them,” Remus mutters, “but I will get better at not scaring you.”

 “I-it’s okay.”

 “No, it’s not, little monster,” Remus corrects gently, “the others are right. I could hurt you going feral way more than I would hurt anyone who deserves it. So I gotta be better about that. For you.”

 “For me?”

 Remus clutches him tighter. “For you.”

 He’s being serious. Absolute fucking stone right now. This cinched it. He could’ve hurt V really fucking bad by going feral right then. He knows he can’t risk that happening again, so he’s gotta figure his shit out real fast.

 There’s one person he knows will be able to help him.

 L raises an eyebrow when Remus appears next to his desk. “Well, this certainly is unexpected. Is something the matter?”

 “Yeah.” Remus shuffles. L’s room makes him feel like sandpaper. “I need your help not going feral.”

 L blinks. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting. I must highlight the fact that suppressing your nature is not a long-term solution.”

 “I’m not trying to stop it permanently. I just…” Remus twists his hands together. “I fucked up earlier.”

 L sits. “Tell me?”

 Remus explains what happened, from the fetch to the ride to learning that one of the reasons that fucking hurt so much was that they burned—

 “I see,” L interrupts stiffly, his own hands starting to clench, “and I am…proud of you, Duke.”

 Remus blinks. “Wait, what? Why?”

 “Of your restraint,” L mutters, “and of the fact that you recognized that this was a problem and you have come to try and find a solution.”

 Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Remus gnaws on his bottom lip, trying to relieve the extra energy. Going feral twice in one day is not a good idea.

 “Don’t do that,” L says.

 “Do what?”

 “Bite.” L taps the side of his mouth. “Not healthy.”

 Remus rolls his eyes. “it’s not like I’m gonna bleed out, L.”

 “No, you won’t,” L says, “but it’s still not a healthy coping mechanism.”

 “So?”

 “So—“ L crosses his arms— “you’re trying to be better for V. V will very much be hurt by something like that.”

 Ah.

 Fuck, that’s a good reason.

 “Okay,” Remus mutters, “okay. What can I do?”

 “What helps you calm down normally,” L asks, “when you go feral?”

 “Fuck, I don’t know,” Remus sighs, “I don’t—it’s not—it’s not like it’s happened recently!”

 “It’s V, isn’t it?”

 “What?”

 “V.” L motions for Remus to sit down, folding his hands in his lap. “V has…a lot of emotional trauma. You are perhaps the most linked with emotional trauma.”

 “Isn’t that Pat-Pat’s job?”

 L shakes his head. “Pat works with emotion, what is currently being experienced. You, however, and your brother, are more closely tied to memory.”

 “So…”

 “So you, more than any of us, even your brother, are being affected by this change.”

 “But it’s not his fault.”

 “No, and neither is it yours. It simply is.” Remus buries his face in his hands. “Not the answer you were looking for, I’m sure.”

 “Really fucking wasn’t.”

 “You didn’t answer my question,” L prompts, “what normally helps you calm down?”

 “Fuck, I don’t know! Calming down isn’t really my strong suit. That’s my birthday suit.”

 L pinches the bridge of his nose. “Focus, please.”

 Remus sits back in the chair. What helps him calm down?

 Well…

 “…safe,” Remus mumbles, “safe makes me calm down.”

 “When you feel safe?”

 He shakes his head. “When V is safe.”

 L makes a noise of understanding. “Your ‘going feral’ is caused by the pain you experience when V is under stress, caused by his past trauma. Thus whenever you can remind yourself that he is safe, and no longer in danger, it helps you snap out of it.”

 “But now I’m the danger.”

 “Are you trying to hurt V?”

 “What?” Remus leaps to his feet, the air crackling. L sits, impassive as always. “No!”

 “Are you willingly putting V in situations where you know he will be upset?”

 “What the fuck is—“

 “Are you?”

 “No!”

 “When you are in a place where you could hurt V,” L continues, still smooth as fucking glass in his chair, “do you try and distance yourself so you do not?”

 Oh. Remus gets it now.

 “…yeah.”

 “Then,” L says firmly, “you are not the danger you believe yourself to be.”

 Remus sits back in the chair slowly. “…said I make him feel safe.”

 “You do,” L says, “more than most of us do, I would guess. I imagine that…having someone be as protective as you are is something quite foreign to V.”

 “Shouldn’t be.”

 “No. It shouldn’t.”

 Remus scrubs his hands over his face, wishing that this was fucking easy, that they could just…wipe them all out. Make the fear go away. Make the scars disappear.

 But they can’t.

 “What can I do, then,” Remus mumbles, “it—it wasn’t so bad today because Princey showed up.”

 “Having another person helped?”

 “No, well, kind of.” Remus twists his hands together again. “…made sure he pulled V outta the way.”

 “Mm.”

 There’s a few moments of silence while L thinks, idly tapping a finger against his wrist.

 “I have noticed,” he says after a while, “that the times when you are most likely to ‘go feral,’ so to speak, coincide with times when V is experiencing particularly high levels of stress.”

 Remus nods.

 “You have also stated that when V feels safe, and perhaps when you are able to make him feel safe, you’re able to calm down faster.”

 Another nod. L’s fucking good at problem-solving.

 “Do you think, then,” L says, “that if we were to help you get better at calming V down, you would, in turn, be able to calm yourself faster?”

 “L, you’re a fucking genius.”

 L blushes too, did you know that? “Well, I…”

 “So what do I do?”

 “Right.” L adjusts his tie. “What do you know already?”

 Remus thinks. “He, uh, he likes to be asked before anything happens, including being moved or touched.”

 “Good. What else?”

 “…he doesn’t like loud noises, or bright lights.”

 “Good.”

 “No fire.”

 “Mm.”

 “He likes the lake?”

 “Does it help him calm down?”

 “…dunno.”

 L nods. “Anything else?”

 Remus thinks. What else, what else…

 “Having his eyes closed,” he says carefully, “helped before, didn’t it? Stopped him from getting super overwhelmed?”

 “That is possible,” L says, “but it is unlikely to be something you try first, as it would require a decent amount of cognitive awareness or physical contact to achieve, both of which are not frequent in times of high stress.”

 “What can I do, then?”

 “How likely do you think it is that you will be able to speak calmly?”

 Remus snorts. The corner of L’s mouth quirks up.

 “Mm. Then it might be better to try something else, then.”

 “Something else?”

 L tilts his head, looking at Remus with that stare that makes him feel like L can see through him. “I have also noticed that with you, V does not seem as…averse to physical contact.”

 Wait, what?

 “When you held him in the garden, when he first arrived,” L says, “and when you rubbed his back. He was not afraid of you, no more than he was startled. Admittedly, this was during a prolonged period of high stress.”

 “W-wait, you’re right, earlier, he—“ Remus wraps his arms around himself— “by the lake, he…he asked for me. He…”

 “He initiated contact?”

 “…yeah.”

 A soft smile comes over L’s face. “I’m pleased.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you, perhaps more than the rest of us,” L continues, “are very eager to protect V. So much so that it leads to…”

 “Going feral.”

 “Indeed. And if V chooses to seek comfort from you…” L raises his eyebrows pointedly.

 “…then…then I can do it that way.”

 “Correct.”

 L gets up, reaching for a glass of water. He holds it out to Remus who takes it carefully.

 “Why’s this so fucking hard?”

 “Because nothing like this is easy, Duke,” L answers, fetching a glass for himself, “for anyone involved. I, for one, am impressed.”

 “…by?”

 “You.”

 “Me?”

 “Yes,” L says, “and how much you have…decided to change your approach.”

 Ah. Yeah.

 Yeah, the last time they found a mortal that had been…mistreated—apparently, Pat-Pat had an issue with Remus calling it ‘super fucked up’ even though it was—they’d died just on the outskirts of the garden.

 “Not with V,” Remus mumbles, “I want V to stay. They were already gone.”

 A few moments of silence pass, then there’s a soft whoosh.

 L sighs. “You can come out, J.”

 J strides out of the shadows, part of Remus’s mind trying valiantly to convince him that he’s been there the whole time. He hasn’t, Remus fucking knows he hasn’t, but still.

 “Where’s V?”

 “With Pat,” J answers smoothly, “eating.”

 “Good,” L says, “difficult emotional experiences should be followed by food.”

 Remus winces. He can almost feel the fucking room get colder. J’s head tilts.

 “I’m sure I know exactly what you’re referring to,” he says softly, “and I wouldn’t appreciate an explanation.”

 L, the asshole, just looks at Remus. Remus sighs and explains again.

 J takes one deep breath and lets it out slowly. Remus bows his head, waiting. Then he feels gloved fingers carding through it and he shudders.

 “Did you need something?” he hears L ask.

 “I was out for a walk,” J says, still stroking Remus’s hair, “by the lake. Something felt…off. So I tried to find the duke.”

 “‘M here.”

 “I can see that.”

 “Needed L’s help.”

 “And did you get it?” Remus nods, not wanting to jar J’s hand loose. “Good.”

 “We do just have the theory, however,” L muses, “and no practice.”

 “I may be able to help with that.”

 Remus looks up when J’s fingers leave his hair. “I’m listening.”

 It’s later, much later, when Remus finally leaves L’s room. The forest is twinkling, his brother sitting crosslegged on his favorite stump. Remus hugs him tightly, thanks him for being there earlier.

 “Of course, Re,” his brother murmurs, “and thank you for being there.”

 “I will be,” Remus says, “I will be.”

 It’s not much later when Remus is walking back to the clearing and a scream rips through the air.

  V.

 The door is locked. It’s locked tight. Remus can’t push. He can’t push. He can’t ruin this.

 The scream keeps going.

 “V! V!”

  Keeps going.

 It aches. It aches and the longer it goes, the longer it hurts, the harder it gets for Remus to keep from breaking the door down. Then a flurry of footsteps and—

 “V!”

 Remus catches V as he barrels out of his room, barely having enough time to open his arms and catch his balance. V’s eyes, wide with panic, settle on Remus’s face.

 “V,” Remus repeats softly, “V.”

 “…duke?”

 “Yeah. Yeah, little monster, it’s Duke.”

 “…duke.”

 Remus eases them to the ground, keeping his arms firmly around V. He draws him gently into his lap, closing his eyes and burying his face in V’s hair, feeling V curl up in his lap, still shaking, still shivering. A bolt of pain shoots through his chest when he feels the raw cry against his throat and his arms tighten around V, trying in vain to take some of that pain and push it into himself. V so desperately needs to stay mortal, to stay V, to feel. The last thing he wants is for this to destroy V beyond repair.

 “It’s alright, little monster, I got you, you’re safe, I’m not going to let anything hurt you, shh, just keep breathing for me.”

 He keeps up the litany of calm reassurances and comforting noises, rocking V back and forth on the ground. V’s shuddering breaths echo in the still clearing. His hands and arms tremble violently against Remus’s back and he can’t tell whether it’s because they’re holding onto him so tightly that his muscles are shaking or if he’s panicking so much he can’t stop shaking. The monster growling inside Remus’s chest starts snarling when V shudders harder.

  No. Not now. He’s safe. Keep him safe.

 Remus breathes. Tells the beastie in his chest to pipe the fuck down. Wraps himself around V and holds him close.

  Safe. Safe. Safe.

  They’re safe.

 “...V?”

 V mumbles, burying his cold nose in Remus’s neck.

 “Hey, V,” Remus murmurs, “can we, uh, can we get you out of the forest? It’s gonna get cold before too long, little monster.”

 V nods, not moving.

 “…can I carry you then, little monster?”

 Another nod.

 Scooping V gingerly into his arms, Remus hesitates. He doesn’t want to take V into his room, not now, but he also doesn’t want to push V too far, to push his way into V’s room.

 “V? Little monster?” V moves a little bit. “Can we go into your room?”

 “…stay?”

 “Yeah, V, I’ll stay with you, little monster.”

 Remus carries him inside, gently sitting on the floor with V still in his lap when he flinches at the noise the bed makes. He uses his tentacles to hold them slightly off the floor. He keeps rocking them slowly back and forth, murmuring safe, safe, safe.

 “…safe?”

 “Yeah, V.” Remus swallows. “We’re safe.”

 “You promise?”

 “I promise.” He adjusts his grip. “…you wanna talk about it? It’s okay if you don’t.”

 V mumbles something.

 “I can’t hear you, little monster,” Remus murmurs, shifting a little, “can you say it again?”

 “…just names.”

 “Names?”

 V clutches Remus’s arms tightly. “…names they used to call me.”

 “Like what? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he adds hastily.

 V hooks his chin over Remus’s shoulder, still breathing hard. Remus glances around.

 “Can I get you something to drink?” V nods. “Still want me to keep hold of you?”

 “…please?”

 “Sure.”

 Tentacles are useful things. When V has a glass of water in his hands, Remus lets him sit back a little, drinking carefully as Remus runs his hands over V’s back. V’s eyes drift closed and he lets out a tired mumble.

 “Sleepy?”

 “Mm.”

 Remus hums, letting V collapse a little bit more into his lap. He turns V slightly so that he can keep hold of the water.

 “…said I was a demon.”

 “What?”

 “The…others,” V mumbles, fear and weariness warring in his tone, “said I was a demon. That I was…cursed.”

 Words are so fucking stupid.

 Mortals are so fucking stupid.

 “You’re not cursed, V,” Remus says firmly, “promise. We’d be able to tell if you were.”

 “…really?”

 “What the hell made them say you were cursed?”

 V hesitates, little ripples appearing in the water. Remus tugs him closer, murmuring safe, safe, safe.

 “…my eyes,” V whispers, “they said my eyes showed I was…evil.”

 Now that.

 That is truly the fucking stupidest thing Remus has ever heard.

 V giggles softly when Remus says as much, letting Remus stroke a hand through his hair and wrap his other arm firmly around his waist. He slips a hand slowly under V’s tunic, pressing against his tummy and rubbing.

 “Mm,” V hums, “…warm.”

 “Good,” Remus says, “good, V.”

 He shakes his head. So fucking stupid.

 “You’re not cursed, V. You’re not evil. You’re not a demon. Words are fucking stupid and mortals are stupid too.”

 “…they are?”

 “In big groups? Absolutely.” Remus sets his chin protectively on top of V’s head. “You are a smart one. And that’s good.”

 “I’m good?”

 The vulnerable shake in V’s voice coaxes Remus to guide V’s gaze upward.

 “You are,” he says firmly, brushing the hair out of V’s violet, violet eyes. “And your eyes are fucking stunning.”

 He chuckles when V flushes, trying to hide his face in Remus’s neck again.

 “Princey must’ve had fun with you, hmm?”

 “Still is,” comes the mumble.

 “He’s not hurting you, is he?”

 “…no, I’m just…not used to it.”

 Remus hums, closing his eyes. The arm around V’s waist squeezes tightly. At the breath that sounds almost torn out of him, V relaxes.

 “…is that what Oliver’s hugs feel like?”

 Grinning, Remus squeezes him tighter. “You want to find out tomorrow?”

 “…please?”

 “Of course, little monster.”

 V’s not cursed.

V’s not a demon.

 And V’s eyes are gorgeous.

 Words are just fucking stupid.

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