#quadrouple

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“Rhys.”

He watched me in the reflection of the mirror as I strode for my armoire, flinging open the doors to yank out the dress I’d selected. Scraps of shimmering black—a slightly more modest version of what I’d worn to the Court of Nightmares months ago. “You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had. “Even so,” Rhys went on, “there will always be a … tug. For the females, it is usually easier to ignore, but the males … It can drive them mad. It is their burden to fight through, but some believe they are entitled to the female. Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does “does not happen often, but … Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I scrounged up the jeweled, dark belt from an armoire drawer and slung it low over my hips. “So you’re saying she could walk away—and “Lucien would have free rein to kill whoever she wishes to be with.”

“Do you think she and Lucien match well?” I pulled out a pair of sandals that laced up my bare thighs and jammed my feet into them before beginning work on the bindings.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “has been preoccupied with the same female for the past five hundred years.”

“Wouldn’t the mating bond have snapped into place for them if it exists?”

Rhys’s eyes shuttered. “I think that is a question Azriel has been asking himself every day since he met Mor.”

I honestly don’t know I’m very conflicted, at one point I feel like her actions are pointed to Elriel and on another point I can’t let go of Gwynriel

I’m trying to understand all ships and accept them so I wouldn’t feel let down when the book is released since she is the writer and we’ll respect whatever she chooses

Ugh I really don’t know, SJM is really lucky she gets to sleep every day knowing who ends up with who

Anyways there’s still fan fictions 😅 after whatever couple she chooses

day 11 : morning light

featuring Dmitri Antonov x oc Lilibet Grey, with Murray Bauman & Yuri Ismaylov

summary: an intimate moment isn’t quite as discreet as they thought, and Lilibet might be falling in love once again

rating: mature (fade-to-black sex recap)

wc: 645

cw: semi-public sex, voyeurism without consent, implied piv (unprotected), coffee abomination

an: written for the 200 Words Challenge. Kinda proud of this one considering I put this pairing together just a couple hours before writing this!

Pink light filtered gently into the abandoned church-turned-smuggler’s den as night gave way to dawn, and it was about the only gentle thing she had encountered in this country.

Almost.

Behind her, the Russian man stirred softly and Lilibet froze, waiting for him to drop back to sleep again, and was grateful when his breathing deepened once more. Carefully she rolled over to face him in their little cocoon of layered blankets and wraps. She was hoping that seeing him in the morning light would change things, that the spell would break with the dawn, and last night would go down on the list of mediocre encounters that were probably a mistake.

No such luck. Somehow, sleeping in a survivalist’s bundle on the floor of a frozen church only made Dmitri cuter, if that was even possible, the slack of his expression giving him a youthful innocence. One that had an interesting juxtaposition with Lilibet’s memory of his strong, sure hands sliding into her pants last night in pitch darkness, the chapel filled with the sounds of howling wind and the chainsaw snores of the pilot, at the opposite wall.

With their companions sleeping, or reasonably close enough to sleep, Dmitri had shifted closer to Lilibet, offering quite sincerely to combine their cocoons together and increase the warmth. Murray and Yuri had done it—though it was at least partially so that Yuri couldn’t attempt to escape in the night without waking Murray in the process—and Hopper and Joyce hadn’t quite merged their blankets into one, but had lain as close to each other as they could get otherwise. And watching the man she had loved and the woman she did love reconnect with each other, pulling away from her, made her heart ache in ways she couldn’t articulate. So she accepted Dmitri’s offer, and they wrapped themselves together, and when their bodies had slotted together gratefully in warmth, Lilibet asked if this was okay, and Dmitri responded with a soft, sultry, “This is perfect, little dove,” as if he could sense her loneliness, her heartbreak, and wanted to console her. She wanted to be consoled. When his palms slid beneath her layered clothes and found bare skin, she gave no signs of protest, and when her hands found his zipper and began opening it, he kissed her to silence his groan.

She wanted so badly for it to be a one-time thing, something she could easily let go of and walk away from. But Dmitri, damn him, was even more beautiful in the morning light, and the memory of his gentle lovemaking would replay in her fantasies for a long, long time, she knew.

With exceeding care, she pulled herself out of their cocoon without disturbing Dmitri, made sure her clothes had come to settle in the right places, and silently moved among the crates of smuggled goods. There was a shipment of jars of Nescafé instant coffee granules, and a dozen flats of bottled water, which she combined together to make a horrible bastardization of coffee. Pulling on her fur-lined hat and leather gloves, she tugged open the heavy church door and slipped outside with her bottle of cold, muddy coffee.

“Dobroye utro!”

Squinting against the sharp morning sun, she saw Yuri and Murray were working on the helicopter known as Katinka, and Yuri was waving a socket wrench at Lilibet with a horribly cheerful grin.

“Good morning!” he repeated loudly in English. “I hear somebody have good night last night, no? You make bad choice when choosing Russian lover, but Yuri will not hold against you.”

“Morning, Lil,” Murray said, speaking more quietly but with every bit as much mischief in his grin. “So… that was a fun little show. How was the disgraced former prison guard of a Russian gulag?”

Lilibet groaned, and pulled her hat down over her eyes in embarrassment.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

day 15 : photographs

featuring Dmitri Antonov x oc Lilibet Grey & oc Georgette Grey

summary: Georgette is struggling with being back in Hawkins, and Dmitri finds out exactly why his stepdaughter hates it here so much

rating: general

wc: 927

cw: mentions of past manipulation and revenge porn of a minor, unfavorable depiction of Tommy H.

an: written for the 200 Words Challenge. I’m having fun exploring this man. :) I think I hc him as a pretty decent cook, and definitely has high dexterity. also I’m in love with the idea that he gets himself a motorcycle in Hawkins. more biker representation pls!

Returning to Hawkins had had an effect on Georgette, Lilibet could see it the very same day they arrived. Her daughter was reverting back to the version of herself that hadn’t yet been to California, hadn’t made friends at Lenora High or had sleepovers at her house on Lonzo Way. The Georgette who didn’t fit in and didn’t have much to say. Even securing an early summer job at Main Street Vinyl hadn’t lifted her mood. Some of it, perhaps, could have been attributed to shyness around their new roommate, but Dmitri couldn’t be the source of all her malaise. Lilibet had seen with her own eyes that the two of them got along well enough; even Georgette’s aloof tuxedo cat, Count Ulfric Arpeggio, seemed to grudgingly accept Dmitri’s presence.

So while Dmitri was busy in the kitchen, prepping vegetables for dinner—he had insisted on taking care of meals for the family, wanting to pull his fair share of the weight even while he hadn’t yet found employment in Hawkins—Lilibet approached Georgette. Plopping down next to her on their new sofa, Lilibet cut right to the chase.

“Alright, so are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?”

Georgette looked at her mother, brow furrowing. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why you’re retreating into your shell again,” Lilibet supplied. “As soon as we crossed the Hawkins town line, you started wilting. What’s happening?”

“Oh.” Georgette looked away, swallowing awkwardly. “You remember what happened.” She paused before adding, quietly, “With Tommy?”

An idle fury clawed Lilibet’s insides at the mention of the boy’s name, but she kept her face impassive. “Yes.”

“Yeah. Bet you’re not the only one.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Lilibet reached out and touched her daughter’s knee, rubbing it soothingly.

“It was just really nice being two thousand miles away from anyone who’d ever even heard of Tommy Hagan and had ever seen my boobs.”

The way her daughter’s head hung in shame made Lilibet’s heart hurt, and she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “It’s been two years, baby. I’m sure most people have forgotten it entirely, and the rest… well, fuck them. They don’t have photographic memories, and if all they have to do with their spare time is try to recall the details of those photos, that says a hell of a lot more about their pathetic selves than it does about you.”

“But we never got all the copies back,” Georgette said, her voice cracking as she spoke into her mother’s shoulder, “and they have to be out there somewhere. What if being back in Hawkins makes someone remember they have one in their desk drawer and it starts getting passed around again?”

That fury was still coiling in Lilibet’s chest, and she spoke in a tone that was carefully measured but still licked of flame. “If it resurfaces, then we’ll prosecute. You were sixteen years old, which makes it a felony to even have a copy in the first place. And this time we won’t have to trade that charge away as a bargaining chip to keep Jonathan out of jail.” She pulled away from Georgette, her hands holding Georgette’s shoulders, and met her daughter’s eyes head-on. “If anyone is still holding on to that photo, if they have one shred of intelligence in their skull, they’ll keep it to themselves.”

From behind them came the sound of a throat being cleared, and they looked over the back of the sofa to find Dmitri standing in the doorway, his chef knife in hand, bright orange flecks of carrot clinging to the blade.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, speaking very politely, “but I seem to have forgotten the onions.” His gaze settled on Georgette with a gentle smile. “Would you maybe have a few minutes to run out and purchase a bag for me?”

“Can I take your motorcycle?” she asked hopefully, but her mother cut in before Dmitri could respond.

“Absolutely not, but you can take my car.”

Georgette groaned, but pulled herself up off the couch and headed for the front door.

“And please don’t change the radio station presets!”

“I won’t,” she sighed with all the apathy of a beleaguered teenager, and closed the door behind her.

Dmitri waited a few more seconds before he spoke again. “Am I permitted to ask what that discussion was about?”

“You were eavesdropping?” Lilibet teased.

“I dropped no eaves, I was merely close enough to hear you. I cannot turn off my ears at will.”

With a sigh, Lilibet shifted on the couch, rising onto her knees on the cushions and turning toward the back of the couch to face Dmitri. “There was a boy Georgette had feelings for in high school, his name was Tommy Hagan. And Tommy decided to pretend he had feelings for her as well, as a joke. And apparently he was very convincing, because it went on for weeks, with Georgette thinking they were in love, and eventually she gave him a… let’s say, a very private photo of herself. By the next morning, he’d had hundreds of copies made and taped up all over the school for everyone to see.”

As Lilibet spoke, Dmitri’s expression hardened, his mouth a tight line, his eyes icy. He looked toward the front door again, then back to Lilibet.

“May I ask two more questions, my dove?”

She nodded, and the chef knife twirled in Dmitri’s grasp.

“Where is this Tommy Hagan now, and how dead would you like him to be?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics // photos suggested by @comfortably-obsessed-fangirl ♡

Last night I dreamt that I saw four rainbows at once. My friend missed it because she was on her phone so I had a go at her and that was it. It was very exciting.