Feb 21, 2025
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/56452306
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me when i forget to update tumblr about chapter five of do not go gentle
https://archiveofourown.org/works/56452306
click if you dare >:]
So I'm reading Do Not Go Gentle and I can not explain to you the meltdown I'm experiencing.
Stories this good ought to be illegal.
Do Not Go Gentle Masterlist
Hey everyone! So I’ve posted the entirety of my acotar AU fanfic, Do Not Go Gentle, here on tumblr because I thought some of my followers may want some new fic material. Here’s the masterlist! If you’ve got any questions, comments, snarky remarks, I’d love to hear them all :)
Synopsis:
Feyre’s life seems to be falling apart before her very eyes: her fiancée is keeping secrets from her, the demons in her past are beginning to haunt her present, and to top it all off, a beautiful stranger just can’t seem to leave her alone at the coffee shop she works in.
But the day she finds tiny packets of pills in her shop’s storage room, Feyre discovers that she is in way, way over her head.
AKA, another modern AU in which Tamlin is a Shady Tool™, Feyre loses her marbles, and Rhys is there to help her every step of the way.
It follows mostly ACOMAF but I’ve taken a bit of liberty in the characters and their storylines for the modern twist. Hope you enjoy it!
Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21
I’ll be updating this as I go! I seriously hope you give it a read, and if you do, hope you enjoy it. Also, if you prefer this format, go check it out on Ao3 here!
Hope you’re all staying happy, safe and healthy with these dreadful times right now, and I’m sending all my love to y’all right now.
Do Not Go Gentle: Everybody Loves You
Link to song: Everybody Loves You by Charlotte Lawrence
Synopsis: An interrogation, and an overall shit night.
TW: Mentions of abuse and self harm. Please, if you’re sensitive to these topics, read with caution.
Ao3 Link
Chapter 20: Everybody Loves You
“The footage shows you being taken away from Spring Corporations by Cassian Noctis. By the looks of it you were sedated, and he carried you down to the parking garage where the getaway car was waiting to transport you. He was aided by Alis Cedarwood, who helped him with the locks and security codes.”
The stainless steel table beneath my forearms was just as cold as the festering emptiness in my bones. I didn’t even look up to detective Hanson as I croaked, “And did you scan the footage twenty minutes before that? When my fiancee was dragging me away from the elevator as I tried to escape?”
“The rest of the footage was blank. Only Mr. Ivy and his associates leaving while you stayed in your office.”
I snorted. Everything felt distorted, like reality was caving in on itself. “Of course he did.”
“Tamlin filed a missing person’s report. He’s been trying to find you for over two weeks now.”
I flinched at the sound of his name.
“Oh, I know. He tracked me through my phone and tried to break into Cassian Noctis’s condo. I had to hide away from him.”
“You were kidnapped, Mrs. Ivy. It’s okay that you’re in shock.”
“I’m not in shock, and don’t you dare fucking call me that. He is not my husband, and I was not kidnapped.”
Detective Hanson sighed and sat down across from me, opening up the beige file on the table. My picture was in it, along with a pile of annotated documents I couldn’t read from where I sat. The man was older, in his fifties maybe, with salt and pepper hair and hard lines marking his face. His blue eyes were void of any emotion as he asked, “Then please, explain. If you weren’t kidnapped, then why haven’t you contacted us before? Why let this drag on for so long?”
“I haven’t contacted you because tonight was the first time I heard he’d filed a missing person’s report. After he nearly broke into Cassian’s apartment, I thought maybe he would’ve—but never heard anything since. I just wanted to leave him and be done with it.”
“You wanted to leave him.”
A statement more than a question, and I only nodded my head.
“Why?”
I could’ve written an entire damn thesis on why I wanted to leave him, needed to leave him, but I only said, “Call in Morrigan Noctis.”
He only lifted a brow, and made a beckoning signal above his shoulder to the mirror—which I knew was a one-way glass window on the outside. We sat in silence for the few minutes it took before the door opened, and in came Mor, her eyes instantly finding mine and filled with worry.
“Close the door.”
It shut behind her with a creaking noise. I did not look at either of them when I breathed, “Show him the pictures.”
The pictures of my destruction. The ones Mor knew would be useful one day, despite everything that screamed in my head during those agonizing moments not to do it. Hesitantly, she pulled out her phone and tapped around until it sat on the table.
I could see the outline of a bruise on my ribs, and I bit my lip, averting my eyes. I couldn’t look at them. I refused to go back into those moments of pure horror.
Detective Hanson swiped through the photos, a cold, glinting look in his eyes. When he reached the end, he looked up to me and said, “Tamlin Ivy did this to you?”
The sound of his name reverberated through me. I did not stutter or hesitate as I replied, “Yes.”
“You may leave now, Ms. Noctis. Send those photos to the officer at the door.”
Mor gave a nod of her head, looked once more at me with pure strength and determination in her eyes. I was grateful for that look, and tried to feel even an ounce of the those conveyed emotions.
Once the door shut softly behind her, Detective Hanson said, “Just to be clear, the statement you’re giving is that you left Spring Corporations willingly.”
“Yes.”
“This wasn’t a kidnapping, you weren’t blackmailed—”
“No,” I seethed, “I am not being fucking blackmailed.”
“Look, Ms. Archeron, I’m trying to do my job. You were engaged to Tamlin Ivy, CEO of Spring Corporations, then found with one of the heads of Night Industries after being supposedly missing for two weeks. I wouldn’t put it past either companies to pull some kind of sick stunt for the purpose of their feud.” It was common knowledge that the two hated each other—almost like a game they’d been playing with the city of Prythian as their audience all these years. Hanson splayed his hands across the file, and held my gaze as he said, “The only thing that concerns me here are the facts. The fact was they provided me with video footage that lead me believe you’d been taken against your will. But now with the pictures Ms. Morrigan just brought up, I’m inclined to believe you.” His eyes fluttered across the file before him, and he added, “It’s not a crime to cut ties with someone. The people you left may not understand, may want answers—but you don’t owe them anything. It is your life, and it is your right to exercise your free will. Your privacy will be respected, Feyre, I can promise you that.”
Relief settled in my stomach and I closed my eyes, grateful tears stinging at my throat. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to press charges against Mr. Ivy? For the assault?”
“No,” I shook my head, “I just want to go home. I need to go home.”
“I just need you to sign a few things first then you’ll be on your way, Feyre.”
I looked down at the sheet and pen he placed in front of me and began to scrawl in my personal information. Address, phone number, email, signature and initials.
Hanson did a once over of the papers, then, for the first and only time during our interaction, gave me a warm smile. “You’re free to go.”
***
Hanson and I walked back down the bright hallway, away from the interrogation room, through the office cubicles around the police station. The officers were either on phone calls, filling out paperwork or speaking to people seated beside their desks. Despite the loud room, we continued on to the double doors beyond where the main space was, filled with civilians and cops alike.
The rupture of noise hit me as we approached the doors. My brows furrowed, and I looked to Hanson, who only heaved a sigh before pushing open against the handle.
In that moment, two pairs of eyes shot to me. Rhys’s, filled with relief—and fear.
The second pair, the ones I’d learned to love, adore and fear, looked at me with disbelief.
They morphed into something other than rage. Something more potent, more vile, more abhorrent than I’d ever seen. Even from across the room, his gaze burned through me, and I felt myself disintegrating into a pile of ashes at my feet.
I completely froze. Ice held my feet planted on the tile floor beneath me, and all I could do was stare at him while the terror crept up my spine and threatened to snap me in half.
Move, my mind whispered. Don’t give him this. Do not give him this.
I’d given him too much already. I’d given him every piece of my fucking soul only to find it scattered across the barren battlefield of our love. Here I was, still picking up the pieces.
Two officers continued to hold him back as I slipped into my coat, scarf and slid the glasses back over my eyes. In order to put one foot in front of the other, in order to keep shoving breaths in and out of my lungs, I thought only of the bed waiting for me at home, knowing I would plunge into oblivion, and stay there for a long, long while.
***
The lights were still on inside the house when we got back.
I hadn’t said a word. I didn’t think I could. Not after the hurricane that swept through the night; not after seeing his face, feeling him so close to me again.
Rhys… despite it all, his face remained concentrated. Impassive. The only blip of emotion was relief, relief and concern as we both finally settled back in the car after trying to fly through the crowd of reporters. I prayed they didn’t get any good shots.
We barely made it to the kitchen before the door opened once more behind us. I flinched, expecting to see his face again, but it was Cassian who strode through the main hallway, his eyes meeting mine for only a second before his arms were wrapped around me.
“I’m so sor—” Cassian tried to murmur in my ear, but I shook my head against his chest.
“No,” I mumbled, “I’m sorry, Cassian. You shouldn’t have gotten tangled up in this. It’s my fault.”
“It is nobody’s fault except that Tool’s. Do not blame yourselves for a second.” Mor chimed in as she breezed past us, heading for the fridge. She pulled out a piece of chocolate and took a bite out of the bar. Pulling away from Cassian, I spotted the look of annoyance on Rhys’s face as the two made themselves at home.
Rhys said, “You know, we could really use a calm evening after all that bullshit.”
“But I’m out of booze,” Cassian pouted. Rhys rolled his eyes, but nodded his head, and Cassian looked like a damn Cheshire Cat as he made his way over to Rhys’s liquor cabinet.
The front door opened once more and in strode Amren and Azriel. The woman took one look at me, a charged, electric moment after what’d gone down last night, and I merely nodded. She did so once, a dip of her chin in return, and that was that. She didn’t seem like the ‘talk it over’ type.
“That was close. That was really fucking close, Rhysand, and I don’t trust this at all.” Amren quipped before hopping up on the counter.
“I know,” the dark haired main sighed, “we should’ve been on top of that.”
“Hybern probably kept it quiet for a reason to take us by surprise. We know he has his fangs in the Prythian Police Department.” Azriel added quietly from beside me.
I stared at Cassian who was pouring himself a half-glass of scotch. My mouth was dry after speaking with detective Hanson, and all I wanted right now was a fucking drink. Suriel’s warning sounded in my head and I knew I shouldn’t, but it was so tempting and my patience had thinned after all that’d happened tonight.
“What’s our next move?” Mor wondered as she made her way through the chocolate bar.
Amren said, “We need more information. Anything we can get on these guys—their goals, their next target…”
“We all know what he wants,” Cassian said as he took a sip of his drink. “He wants Illyria.”
“And Ivy wants Feyre.” Azriel added. I tried as best as I could to not let my mind settle on what he just said. Azriel’s voice was smooth as shadows. He seemed to blend into the background, even now as he leaned against the kitchen counter beside the fridge.
Their voices piled up amongst each other as they argued where to go next, who to find, old files to dig through—but I was only watching Rhys as his eyes seemed to search his kitchen island. It was like a puzzle laid out before him, like a scattering of stars in the sky, and he was connecting the dots to form a constellation.
“The Bone Carver,” Rhys suddenly said.
Eyes snapped up, and my brow furrowed. How more fucking ominous could he be?
“The Bone Carver. He knows everything about anything illegal. We should set up a meeting.”
“How the hell are we going to do that?” Amren snapped.
Rhys only looked to them and said, “I’ve got old friends at the penitentiary. I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”
“It’s a long shot, Rhys,” Mor countered.
He shrugged his shoulders, a thin, and his mouth formed a thin, sad line on his face. “What else do we have?”
Cassian sighed. “I’m sure as hell not going.”
“No. But I know someone who might need a first assignment on the job.” Rhys winked at me.
My breath hitched in my throat. No, the Bone Carver did not sound like a friendly face to meet.
“By the Gods. You’re going to scare her away before we’ve even had the chance to go to brunch,” Mor whined, then paraded over to the family room. The others trailed along behind her, bantering about some football game at U of P the other day, but Rhys and I remained in the kitchen for a few moments longer.
Fury, it was pure lethal fury on his face as those cops struggled to hold him back—
“I need a drink,” I finally muttered as I opened up his liquor cabinet as quietly as I could.
“Feyre—” Rhys warned from behind me as I pulled out a bottle of tequila.
“I’ve had a really fucking shit night, Rhys,” I said quietly as I took a stray glass from the counter. He was quiet as I filled it halfway with tequila, took a sip, then went over to the sink to fill the rest up with water. “And I know I shouldn’t be drinking, I know it’s not a good way to cope, but my only other way of dealing with this right now is locking myself in the bathroom with something sharp. So, please, just let me drink.”
Rhys didn’t say a word as I brought the glass to my lips and began downing it. It stung my throat, it burnt my stomach and made me want to heave all over the kitchen, but I sucked it down like it was fucking ambrosia, because the only thing I saw in my mind was red bathwater and swollen welts.
When I looked to Rhys, his face was devastated. “What do you mean?”
I didn’t answer him before I went upstairs and locked myself in my room.
***
The house was quiet as I traipsed over to the bathroom.
It was the middle of the night. I’d woken up curled in my bed on top of the sheets, not even bothering to kick my shoes off. The tequila had knocked me out cold, but I still felt it in my stomach, making me sluggish and lethargic. Water. I needed water.
Hunched over the sink, I gulped down a few mouthfuls from the faucet before turning it off. When I lifted my head up and stared at myself in the mirror, I saw a woman staring back at me.
A woman I wouldn’t recognize if I saw her walking down main street.
I needed something. Every cabinet I dug through was empty or just stocked with necessities: soap, toilet paper, an old bottle of sunscreen—
Nothing here. Nothing useful for me.
But there was this living ball of white, paralyzing panic in my chest, and I knew the only relief I could offer it was a sharp-edged blade. My fingers gripped the counter top, a choked breath rattling from my throat, and my feet nearly stumbled towards the bathtub. Shaking, my legs quietly cleared the ledge until I could squat down and finally rest back against the head of the tub, my feet extending before me.
I looked to the side and found a sponge. It wasn’t much, but it distracted my fingers as I rode out the wave, the nagging urge and itch in my skin, and squeezed the sponge tightly in my right fist. Open, close. Open, close. It was the only thing my mind could focus on.
I didn’t even hear the door open. But when my eyes opened, Rhys was there, standing at the threshold of the bathroom, a question mark on his face.
“What.”
“You’re awake,” Rhys said as he crossed over and stood beside me, hands in his pockets. He still wore the same jeans and polo sweater from our walk this afternoon, and his dark hair looked tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. As though he’d been staying awake all night, just in case I’d wake up. Guilt found its home within my chest, and I looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.
All I could focus on, though, was my hand clenched on the sponge at my side. Open. Close. Open. Close.
My thighs burned, itching against the material of my sweatpants.
“Just needed some water.”
“What are you doing in the tub, Feyre.” The look in his features, the concern and troubled worry—
I squeezed my eyes shut at the tightness in my chest. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t keep fucking falling apart whenever someone showed me a hint of kindness. Had I been deprived of this basic human sentiment for so long that my body careened every time it appeared?
I focused on the sponge. Open. Close. Open. Close—
Rhys stepped into the porcelain tub before me, as he had all those nights ago when I’d been here washing the blood off my hands. My feet retracted and I curled up, trying to cave in on myself.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
“Number,” he murmured.
When I lifted my head to face him, tears crinkled in the corner of my eyes, and my voice wasn’t itself—it was hollow, empty, as I said, “Zero.”
“Feyre.” His voice stumbled on those two syllables.
“Tonight, when I saw him, when I had to show them those pictures, I felt like a zero. Nothing. Exactly what he turned me into.” I could only stare at my thighs, covered by the thin cotton fabric, as though I could right through it to the cuts below. “Exactly what I felt that night on the ledge, and I didn’t want to let myself fall into that fucking trap again. So I drank, and I didn’t care, because the alternative…”
Open. Close.
“This is the alternative,” I breathed, “this. Right here.”
“Tell me.” His voice was filled with despair. “Help me understand.”
Open. Close.
Tears streamed down my face.
“I got into a really bad car accident two years ago,” I explained, “and I killed someone.”
I didn’t think he was breathing. The house was completely silent, save for the rush of cars from the city beyond.
“He…” I choked as I nearly said his name. “He got me out of it. With the police and everything. The charges just went away, and we carried on like nothing ever happened.
“But I kept seeing that woman.” The images flooded my mind from that night, being stuck beneath the car and the smoke consuming me, the mangled metal surrounding me— “I kept seeing her face in my nightmares. I killed somebody. Not like James and Isaac, not because the situation was them or me—I killed her because I wasn’t paying attention to the road, and I didn’t see the red light. Everything after that just fell apart.
“I dropped out of school. I moved into the apartment. I was pissing away my life just staying at home and doing absolutely nothing. And every night, I’d see her in my nightmares.”
Rhys’s hand, carefully, gently, settled on the cold skin of my shin. His warmth leeched past the fabric covering my leg. A sign, no matter how small or insignificant, of support.
“I didn’t know how to deal with it.” My eyes finally trailed up to meet his.
Open. Close.
“I started cutting myself. Don’t,” I choked on the word, not believing that I’d finally said it out loud, “don’t ask me how or why, it just made sense for some reason. Because I hated myself, and I was spinning out of control, and it was the only time that I could fucking feel something after I’d gone so numb.”
His voice as quiet and smooth as midnight, he asked, “For how long?”
“A year. Until he found me one day in the bathtub and thought I was bleeding out.” I didn’t need to specify who it was, because I’d be damned if I ever fucking said his name again. I shook my head, unable to make the horror in his eyes disappear that moment he saw me. “I didn’t hear him knocking.”
“Did you ever see anyone about it?”
“I went to the ER and got stitches, and we never really spoke about it again.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t want to.” A bubble of hysteric laughter crept up my throat as I stared down at myself. “And now here I am, doing everything I can not to go downstairs and grab a kitchen knife.” I inhaled, and it felt like it was the first breath I’d taken in minutes.
“You need to tell Suriel about this.”
“I know,” I whispered softly. “It’s like there’s so many thoughts trapped in my mind and I don’t have the strength to let them out.”
“You do, Feyre,” Rhys leaned towards me until I felt his fingers on mine, gently prying away the sponge from my hands and setting it down on the ledge above the tub. “You may not see it, but you’re a lot stronger than you think.” His hand found mine once again, and he laced our fingers together.
“It’s going to take a while before I figure that out.” My eyes met his as we crouched there in his tub in the dark. He only tilted his head to the side, a small, hopeful smile on his lips.
“I know.” He squeezed my hand. “But I’m gonna be right here the entire time.”
___________________________________________________________
A little note about this chapter.
So, this was exhausting to write. The ending still isn't satisfying for me, and I actually wanted to erase all the mentions of self-harm in this fic because when I looked back on it, I thought it didn't fit. But I'm going to keep it there because I need to. If you've read my other fic, you know I write a lot about self-harm, and to be completely honest, it's because it helps me. As someone who's dealt with these issues in the past, writing about it is like a therapy for me where I can voice everything that I wished I could've when I had the chance. My main concern is that readers think I'm just using it as a tool for character development or as a petty plot point. It's really not that at all. It's for me. If you don't like it or don't agree with it, I'm not going to apologize for what I do to help myself. Because it really does help me, and I hope that if you are currently struggled or have struggled with self-harm in the past that it can hopefully help you to. Also, I don't want it to seem like I'm romanticizing self-harm. It's not something cool or beautiful or whatever, it actually just feels really shameful and embarrassing. But please, if you feel like I may be crossing any sort of lines in any way, or if you just want a friend to talk to, feel free to message me because I'm all ears.
Hope you're all safe and healthy. And, as always, if ever you're feeling down, just know that there are people out there to help you. The situation we're in is really fucking awful right now, and I just want to let you know that even if you're not being personally affected by the virus, it's okay to feel depressed. It's okay to feel anxious. What we're experiencing right now is unprecedented, and just because we're socially distant doesn't mean we aren't able to reach out to each other. Sending you all my love. Stay safe.
Do No Go Gentle: Donna
Link to song: Donna by the Lumineers
Synopsis: In which Feyre has a business meeting with a potential employer.
TW: Vague mentions of self-harm and abuse.
Ao3 Link
Chapter 21: Donna
Rhys
Like fucking clockwork, I woke with the rising sun.
It took less than five minutes to peel out of my sheets and pull some clothes on. Two minutes to down the shot of espresso and munch through an apple in the kitchen. One minute to creep back up the stairs quietly and open that door, just the tiniest slit—
Her figure was slumped to the side, arm dangling off the ledge of the bed. But I could see it, that steady up and down of her chest. Alive. Breathing. Peaceful.
Striking.
It was the only confirmation I needed before peeling back down the stairs and throwing on a pair of sneakers. As the pink clouds began to fade, my feet slammed against the pavement. The sun was still a blip on the horizon, Prythian wiping away the night’s remaining darkness, and with each song drowning out the noise in my ears more cars began to appear on the road as the rest of the city awoke. Soon enough, I was washed in the rays of sunshine. Sweat soaked through my thin long-sleeve, but I didn’t care. I just kept pushing.
It’d been three weeks since I ran. But this morning, I felt wired. Like my mind hadn’t turned off last night in its slumber. How could it? Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what Feyre told me last night.
I’d never felt anything like it before. It was a physical, throbbing ache in my chest, like my heart had truly cleaved in half and spilled all its venomous ichor into my body.
For some reason, it was worse than watching her perched on the ledge of the roof. Knowing that she’d been so miserable, for far longer than I could’ve imagined—
It struck something within me. Like a pianist crescendoing to the climax of a song only to play the wrong chord.
And I had no idea how to help her.
That’s what scared me the most out of all of this—despite my best efforts, Feyre’s condition was beyond my abilities. I’d done all I could out of my own personal experience to try and assuage the difficulties she’d experienced in the last three weeks, but this…
Last night, I felt completely and utterly useless. That was the worst part, I thought, about seeing someone you care about struggle with mental health issues—knowing that there is very little you can do to help. All I had were my words, carefully chosen to goad her into speaking as much as she comfortably would, and gentle enough to tell her that I was there for her, that I would support her. But all I wanted to do, all my instincts roared at me to do, was hold her. Hug her against me. Tell her that I was there, that I cared about her.
Those feelings pounding within my heart flared up again, and my foot faltered on its next step.
I stopped in my tracks. The rap music was still blaring in my ears. I ripped my earphones out, letting them dangle along my neck, and strode over to a nearby bench as I tried to shove some air into my lungs.
Fuck, I thought, I’m so out of shape.
My fingers were already dashing across the screen. Plenty of articles came up after the search, and I scrolled through them, taking screenshots of things that caught my eye. If I didn’t know how to help her, the least I could do was arm myself with some information. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a starting point.
When the steely pincers of anxiety finally unclamped themselves from my fried nerves, I was off again. There were so many other pieces of the story that seemed to root themselves in my mind, no matter how fast or hard I pushed my body, they never seemed to shake away.
I was in a car accident two years ago.
I killed someone.
It couldn’t have been her. No, I refused to hold onto that piece of illogical information my brain was trying to latch itself to. So I blasted my music up higher, and kept running.
***
Feyre
The only thing I knew how to cook was scrambled eggs.
Dad taught me how. When I was in high school, usually Elain made breakfast so I could have something in the mornings, but no one ever made me lunch. I relied on the lunch service the school provided for the ‘less fortunate’—but I couldn’t use it too often. No, if I went there every day, then the school got suspicious and started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, once or twice a week I’d go to the Home Ec room and take the cheese sandwich, apple and juice box—it was better than nothing. The counsellor would smile at me, I’d fake a story about sleeping in, missing the bus, anything but the truth that gnawed at the back of my mind.
We didn’t have money. We lived in a shitty two bedroom condo, bought with the remnants of money my dad had after mom died, and could barely pay for weekly groceries. Utilities, other household bills, dad paid when he was sober enough to read. But groceries came out of my pocket and the penance of a salary I earned as an administrative aid at school. It was only an hour or two after school, and it paid alright, but all the money went towards food.
My sisters didn’t bat an eye at the effort. They kept on their usual business, attending college on their scholarships. I sure as hell wasn’t smart enough to get a scholarship, but the financial aid department took one look at my level of income and offered to pay a hefty percentage, while the rest was covered by student loans. I thought I’d have to work those off for years.
Until he came along and paid them without even batting an eye. That, and any other outstanding debt my sisters or father had. And, and—I couldn’t leave out the wondrous house he’d bought on the other side of the city. The one we’d both helped my father move the boxes to, the one Nesta and Elain had definitely never visited after they’d moved out.
I couldn’t help but think about my dad. I wondered what he was doing right now, across the city, by himself. And the first thing that came to my mind was the bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor by his chair. He was always slumped in that chair with a faraway smile on his face. Sometimes I would sit next to him on the second hand couch and we’d watch TV together. Most of the time, I’d take one look at him and storm off to my room to imagine another life where none of it happened. Where mom didn’t die, where we weren’t flat broke, and I wasn’t miserable.
How I’d gone from the two bedroom condo to this townhouse, I didn’t want to think about. All I knew was that I’d never have to go back there again.
Because of him.
The front door opened and closed quietly, shaking me from my thoughts. I focused once again on my eggs, dividing both of them into two plates before setting four slices of bread in the toaster. When the footsteps got closer, I turned and saw Rhys there, sweat dripping down his face, rap musing blaring from his earphones. He hadn’t spotted me yet in the kitchen, his eyes on his phone. From where I stood between the stove and the kitchen island, I had a clear view of his hand reaching down to clutch his t-shirt and pull it over his head in one swift movement, ripping the earphones away as well.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stare at his chest. Defined and smooth, pure muscle was glistening in the light from the bay windows at the front of the living room. His stomach was hardened, toned yet still soft where the tan skin heaved from his panting. And on his chest, down his biceps—
Tattoos. Beautiful, midnight blue tattoos swirling down his skin in inky swirls, contrasting his tanner colouring. I’d seen them, a peek of them that night at Rita’s, but glancing at them now, I couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship behind such beauty. Art in all forms were difficult to master—but when your canvas was human flesh, it made it all the more impressive.
And on him, it looked breathtaking.
“Something smells burnt,” he smirked at me, wiping the sweat on his face with his t-shirt.
I gasped, jumping out of my stupor as I turned to the toaster. Of course, the four slices staring back at me were black. Burnt to a mother-fucking crisp.
I sighed. Of course out of the two components of this meal, I’d burn the most idiot-proof one. At least I had a reasonable excuse for it standing in the living room.
“Like what you see, darling?” Rhys called as he clambered up the stairs.
“Oh, go jump in the shower. I could smell you from down the block.”
I stared angrily down my plate as I shovelled the eggs into my mouth. The new round of toast was grilling, the toaster on a much lower setting this time, and it popped up by the time Rhys’s footsteps hit the ground level once again. How he’d managed to pull himself together so quickly—tux, gelled hair and shaven face, I had no clue, but I’d be lying to myself if I said he didn’t look immaculate. Nonetheless, I tried my best to ignore his presence after that spout before.
He grinned as he took me in sitting at the counter.
“Don’t give me that look.”
His brows shot up, but that playful, mischievous glint in his eyes remained. “What look?”
“Like a cat just caught a fucking mouse. I have half a mind to dump your breakfast in the garbage.”
“At least it’ll keep that pitiful toast you chucked away from getting lonely.” Nonetheless, he took the four slices from the toaster, deposited two of them on my plate, and dug into his meal perched on the edge of the counter.
“There’s no need to deny that you find me attractive, Feyre. Just try not to ogle me so openly next time. It was very objectifying, to be quite honest.”
My cheeks heated, and I said around my mouthful of buttery bread, “Just when I thought your level self-esteem couldn’t get any higher. You’ll probably be replaying that moment in your mind all day.”
“Got a busy day, darling. Meetings in the morning at the office and a very important lunch date that I simply cannot miss. But I will try to squeeze in some daydreaming.” He pointed at me with his fork, his plate already scraped clean despite starting after me. “Cassian’s coming by to hang out with you after.”
I rolled my eyes. “A babysitter? Seriously?”
Rhys looked over his shoulder from where he stood perching a travel mug beneath this spout of his Nespresso machine. “Not a babysitter, Feyre. A friend. Some company. Someone other than me to talk to.”
“Sending Cassian is like sending a carbon copy of yourself but with more muscle.”
“Firstly, he misses you and wanted to spend some time together. And secondly, ouch. You ogle me, then you insult me?” He twisted the cap onto his mug and fished his keys out of the dish by the edge of the counter, making his way towards the door.
“I’ll make sure to tell the chef to poison you today at lunch!” I called down the townhouse’s main corridor.
“And I’ll tell Cassian you’ve been dying to try his new CrossFit exercises!”
I rolled my eyes, but smiled to myself nonetheless after the door shut quietly behind him.
As I gathered the dishes to be washed in the sink, my mind wandered to last night. The two of us hunched in that tub speaking quietly to each other, me unveiling the darkest thoughts curled into the back of my mind.
I’d never said those words out loud before. With him, we just ignored that it was there in the first place. Lucien and Ianthe only found out because of that one incident at a charity dinner, when Ianthe picked a dress for me without thinking twice about it, and my scars were on display for anyone who got within five feet of me. I outright refused to show up to the stupid thing, but everyone insisted I made an appearance. Once Tamlin saw why, he made an excuse. Those who asked him—because it was impolite to ask me to my face—believed they were scars from the accident.
We all knew it was a lie. Lucien tried talking about it a few times with me, but I pushed him away. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I got so furious with my own mind that I intentionally hurt myself? Every time I tried, there was this burning sensation within my chest. Shame. Shame and crushing embarrassment.
But last night seemed so…easy. I didn’t know what it was about Rhys. I just always felt the need to tell him the truth. Whether it was because he’d seen me at my worst, or because he seemed to understand me like nobody else ever had. It was so…weird. To have somebody to listen to you after so long spent trapped in the silence.
Weird, and absolutely terrifying.
But there was also that festering guilt, and shame—immense shame, for those few moments when I looked at him in the living room. When I… enjoyed looking at him.
When I enjoyed our quiet dinner together last night.
I shook my head as I scrubbed the plate, the memory dissolving in my mind.
***
After Cassian treated me to a gruelling workout at his gym, I found myself back at the house, showered and prepped for Rhys and I’s lunch. Cassian had lingered downstairs to drive me over because Rhys was still caught up in a meeting.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I wondered as Cassian and I weaved through streets downtown. Today the city was bright, ripe with activity and flurries of people. The air was slowly getting warmer. Soon I wouldn’t have to wear a jacket anymore.
“I’ve worked enough over the past two months to take a day off every now and then. Plus, I don’t think my boss cares too much,” Cassian said with a wink.
True. It was a constant reminder that though these people were his family, he technically pulled rank over them at work, with the investigation. But when they were just together, hanging out, it completely slipped my mind.
“Are the rest of them at the office, then?”
“Azriel’s pretty much stuck to his computer monitoring any possible anomalies in Hybern’s movements. He’s got someone following him just to be safe, but so far nothing much has happened. Amren’s combing through old files and investigations affiliated with him to see if she can catch anything and researching possible loopholes to prevent him from making the sale for that land. ” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mor’s just trying to keep calm in the building and helping Rhys out as much as she can, but things are starting to get a little chaotic.”
“How do you guys do it all?” I asked, eyes trailing upon the buildings, which seemed to get smaller and smaller as we neared the outskirts of the city.
He shrugged and said, “We’re fighting together for something we all believe in. You don’t really need much else.”
I looked over at Cassian, his hands gripping the wheel, his face passive and calm as he slowed the car to a stop before a red light. I said, “It’s nice that you all found each other. That you all have each other.”
“And now you’ve got us as well, Archeron. And we’ve got you.”
My eyes burned as I looked out the window once more.
***
I looked up to the restaurant’s blue sign. Sevenda’s.
No other buildings stood nearby. We were about fifteen minutes out of town, and Cassian had already turned back to Prythian. I was left standing here in the parking lot, clad in my best black knee length dress, staring at a diner.
Before I could take another step, the front door opened, and there was his smiling face.
“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?”
“We’ll each have your special with some bannock on the side please,” Rhys said without even glancing at the menu. I shifted in the black leather booth, gazing between him and the middle aged, brown skinned woman before us. Her stark black hair was tied back in a braid that fell down past her waist line, nearly catching on the stained apron lining her body.
“It’s been too long, Rhysand. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked in.” She reached over and ruffled his hair, as though he weren’t the CEO of a major Prythian powerhouse corporation. Her smile was warm and teasing, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners.
Rhys rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “You’re embarrassing me in front of a business partner, Sevenda.”
“What? She’s not your date?”
My cheeks heated. I took a sip of my water, watching Rhys expectantly, wondering how this entire debacle was going to go.
“A potential employee,” he corrected her smoothly, shooting a glance my way. “Feyre keeps declining my advances, unfortunately.”
“I’ll go on a date with you the day you wear something besides black or navy.” I said, jutting my chin out at the dark suit he wore. He must’ve had hundreds of them in his closet.
“That’s my girl. Don’t be afraid to put this boy in his place, Gods know he needs it.” Sevenda turned towards the kitchen.
“Believe me, she does.” Rhys smirked as our gazes met. His eyes shifted over me appreciatively. “Did I mention you look exquisite today Feyre?”
I replied with an eye roll, “That’s the third time you’ve told me in ten minutes.”
“Just making sure you know how delicious you look in that dress.”
“Do you have any sense of self-control?”
“Of course, but it tends to fade away when a beautiful woman looks at me like that.” He tilted his head towards me and the snarl that lined my lips.
“Be glad I’m not your employee yet, I think I’d have to file a sexual harassment claim.”
“Yet?” Rhys’s eyes glinted.
“Well, if you’d get on with your proposition, I could finally make up my mind.”
He cleared his throat. “Night Industries would like to offer you a temporary full-time position as a secretary for yours truly.” I watched as he carefully took a sip of his water, his eyes trained on me the entire time. “Mor usually does a lot of that work for me, but I need her focus on the Hybern investigation right now, and I’m spread out too thin at the moment to try and look for candidates that I know and trust to do the job well. You have some experience in an office. You’ve worked in a cafe for a year now and you know what working under pressure is like. I need that kind of person right now on my team.”
Just as he opened his mouth again, Sevenda burst from the back of the restaurant with a tray perched on her shoulder holding steaming food. Immediately, a rich, aromatic scent filled the quiet space, and my mouth watered.
Swiftly, as though she’d done this for years, Sevenda slid two plates on the table filled half with rice, half with an orange, creamy stew that made my stomach gargle. She set down two extra plates with what seemed like two round flat buns that were golden and crispy.
“Enjoy!” She chirped after refilling our glasses.
I didn’t hesitate as I took my first mouthful. Creamy, warm, sweet, salty—spicy. Not overly so, but just enough for my mouth to heat. The meat was gamey, and the vegetables tasted glorious in the saturated juices.
“Why is there nobody in this restaurant?” I demanded after swallowing my first bite.
Rhys said, “Well, we’re near the reserve. They mostly only have local regulars and travellers passing through."
I shook my head. “But this is delicious.”
Rhys was beaming. He took one of his flatbreads, bannock I was guessing, and dipped it into the stew. I did so as well, and nearly groaned at the delightful taste.
Rhys said after swallowing, “I’ve been coming here since I was a child. Restaurants like this don’t really exist in Prythian, and I sure as hell don’t know how to cook this well.”
After another bite, I added quietly, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He only watched me with that intent stare of his, then wondered, “What do you think of my proposal?”
My fork paused halfway down to the plate. “My office experience was limited, and most probably completely different from what working with you will be like.” My lips parted to add something else, And I don’t know if I can handle the humiliation of learning simple tasks. Not quite able to meet his gaze, I said instead, “I need to know that you’ll be patient with my learning process.”
“Your first twenty hours of work will be purely training, and should you ever have questions, you never hesitate to ask. We’re a team. We all help each other out.”
“Okay.” I made a gesture in my hand, and he took it as the cue to carry on.
“Your baseline job is mainly answering phone calls and emails, manning the elevator, scheduling appointments and running other errands for me should I need them. I’ll also probably have other projects on the side concerning the Hybern investigation, like the meeting we’ve got set with the Bone Carver, but those are optional. I understand you may be uncomfortable with those.”
He looked up to me for confirmation, but I said nothing. We were both quiet for a few minutes as we ate our meal, and finally Rhys wiped his mouth with a napkin, took a sip of his water, and laid both of his palms flat on the table.
“It’s a nine to five job. It’s not necessarily difficult work, but it’s still good work. Something to get you back on your feet. I’m offering it as temporary, but say the word, and we’ll sign you on for good.” He reached into his leather messenger bag and pulled out a leather portfolio case, then slid it over to me. I tentatively opened it up, eyes darting across the document before me.
“Take the time to read it if you want. It’s legal jargon, but believe me, you’re the last person I’d screw over with fine print bullshit.”
But I wasn’t hearing him, because my eyes had trailed down to the number listed at the top of the second paragraph. It was difficult to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.
150 000$ starting salary.
“I can’t accept that.”
He sighed. “I knew you would say that.”
I’d never seen a sum like that in my life, nevertheless in my name.
“Rhys,” I said, “it’s too much.”
“I am paying you in accordance of your work responsibilities, as well as the confidentiality of the information you’re handling. You’ll have control of files and information that could put me under should anything be leaked or spread to the mainstream media. It’s a lot to expect of someone.”
I couldn’t say anything. I could just stare at that contract, unable to meet the eyes of the man who’d veritably given me a new life. No strings attached.
Just out of the pure kindness of his heart. A friend looking out for a friend.
There was that part of the back of my mind that was blaring, this is a red flag. This is him all over again.
But he never offered me the anything. He never gave me time, or space, or options, or a way out. He dictated our lives. He had it all laid out for the two of us, the way he wanted it, whether I liked it or not.
Rhys was giving me a choice. One that I could deny, and continue living under his roof until Gods-know when I got another job, and feel like a pathetic, miserable leech.
Or I could accept his kindness. I could use this as an opportunity. Maybe not permanent—maybe work that would dress up my CV. A stepping stone.
I didn’t know what was next, what else the universe had in store for me. But I knew that this job came with a team, my friends, and as Cassian told me earlier in that car, a purpose. I was lacking that, these days.
So I finally looked Rhys straight in the eyes and said, “Do you have a pen?”
Do Not Go Gentle
Hello everyone! I’ve decided to start posting my fic on Tumblr because why the hell not. This one’s been up on Ao3 for a while (I’m twenty chapters in) but why not branch out onto tumblr because I know people may be searching for some new fic reading material during quarantine and I want to open up a new branch of discussion with readers. I’ll be posting it all here throughout the day, but if you want to binge read, go check it out here!!
Synopsis:
Feyre's life seems to be falling apart before her very eyes: her fiancée is keeping secrets from her, the demons in her past are beginning to haunt her present, and to top it all off, a beautiful stranger just can't seem to leave her alone at the coffee shop she works in.
But the day she finds tiny packets of pills in her shop's storage room, Feyre discovers that she is in way, way over her head.
AKA, another modern AU in which Tamlin is a Shady Tool™, Feyre loses her marbles, and Rhys is there to help her every step of the way.
It follows mostly ACOMAF but I’ve taken a bit of liberty in the characters and their storylines for the modern twist. Hope you enjoy it!
Link to song
Do Not Go Gentle, Prologue: Smoke and Mirrors
“Tam,” I murmured, “I’m still not sure about this.”
He gave me a knowing smile and slung his arm around my shoulder as we continued to stroll down the promenade, wind at our backs. “What’s there not to be sure about? We love each other. We trust each other. You already basically live at my place,” he squeezed a little closer into him and I cherished his warmth; his arms around me. “It just makes sense.”
“I know, I guess I just…” that feeling washed over me, the one that came every time I thought of my future. A constant, festering feeling that wouldn’t wash off my skin and sent my mind spiralling. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” I fought against the thickness in my throat and the gratitude that swelled in my heart. “I’m just so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”
At those words, my voice did crack. Tamlin merely stopped us mid-stride and turned me to face him. His nose brushed against mine as he leaned down and whispered, “There is no debt, Feyre. Not after everything.” His eyes clouded over and my thoughts drifted to the screeching of the tires, the impact of the rolling car. My breath locked in my lungs, and Tamlin’s thumb rubbed soothing lines back and forth along my cheekbones. “I just want you to be safe,” he pressed a kiss to one cheek, “and happy,” he pressed his lips to the other, “and by my side.” A smile lit up his face, and I reciprocated it with my own before tilting my head upwards to meet his mouth.
It was a slow, tender kiss, one that made the noise and traffic and static ebb away into nothingness, and only two souls remained intertwined with passion and love.
This is love, this thing between us, I told myself again and again, this is love.
Do Not Go Gentle: when the party’s over
Link to song: when the party’s over by Billie Eilish (ma queen)
Synopsis: Feyre says fuck it.
TW: Emotional abuse, non-con near the end, brief mention of physical abuse, dark thoughts. Please, if you're sensitive to the topics, read with caution.
Ao3 Link
Chapter 11: when the party’s over
Relapses come slowly.
They don’t happen overnight: you don’t go to sleep one evening and wake up the next morning with your brain scrambled and fried with darkness and shadows. It doesn’t hit like a wave or a bullet or blunt impact.
Relapses are like parasites. They present themselves slowly, precisely, they’re smart—they know exactly what they’re doing. Relapses know your weaknesses, your Achilles’ heels, they know which strings and blocks to pull in order to make you unravel and come crashing down. But never, never are they fast. Never are they quick and dirty. They take their time and they enjoy it as they slowly suck the life out of you and you’re let with nothing but the shell of the person you once were.
As I stared at myself in the mirror that night, I wondered how I let myself get this far. I wondered why I didn’t just leave, why I didn’t pack my things, cash my cheques, take my money and run. What was it that kept me here? Why didn’t I just…go?
In the shower, I scrubbed at myself over and over again, trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. Was it me? Was it my mind, prone to these slips?
Was it the man who occupied my bed?
I didn’t know. I didn’t know.
Because no matter how much I racked my brain, no matter how many times I tried to untangle this knot, all I found were more questions. More dead ends. More thoughts, darker than the rest, that were threatening to destroy me altogether.
The mirror was fogged over with condensation. Good. I didn’t want to see the finger-sized bruises peppering my neck.
Because I knew they were there. They were blue and purple and gruesome, and I’d need to cover them up for the next week. Tamlin hadn’t tried to speak to me this morning as he got dressed for work, and I pretended to be asleep. Tonight would probably be another night of unbearable, stifling silence.
But I didn’t care. It felt like somebody had poured cement in my body over night, leaving me stiff and heavy, and my head was filled with this mind-numbing static that wouldn’t go away no matter how much cold water I splashed on my face.
Because another day of silence wasn’t anything new. This silence… it was all I had anymore.
And I found that I’d grown fond of it, and began to fear the noise.
Noise, like the chime of the elevator that had me scrambling to the closet to pull on a turtleneck sweater and some leggings. Starting my day off nude in front of Alis wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She was supposed to stop by at some point today to drop off some groceries, but I didn’t expect her to be so early.
“Hey Alis—” I croaked, voice rough, as I made my way to living room, only the person in the entrance wearing a black, crisp immaculate suit definitely wasn’t Alis.
Rhysand stood in front of me, hands in his pockets, smug amusement pulling the corners of his mouth into a smirk. “Feyre, darling. Looking lovely as ever. Really love what you’ve done with your hair.”
I blinked. Seeing him here was a shock, but honestly I wouldn’t really put it past him at this point. Crossing my arms, I sighed. “How did you get in here?”
The smirk on his face paused for a moment as his eyes shifted around my face, then settled on my eyes. He shrugged. “You weren’t very subtle when you punched the code in. And Tamlin’s not very creative. Zero three twenty-one, first day of Spring.”
I stared at him pointedly, and the smug faded away. He took in my appearance—really searched my face and wandered my body. It would’ve felt predatory, even suggestive if his face wasn’t filled with concern and sorrow.
My face filled with heat once more, and I turned around, swallowing hard. “Why are you here, Rhys.” It sounded more bored than curious. I knew why he was here, and I didn’t want to hear a word he had to say.
I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know he’d followed me and the scraping of the chair against the floors let me know he sat at the counter bar stool. For a few moments, he was silent as I got the espresso beans from the coffee counter and fired up the machine.
“I miss you making my morning coffee. Nobody makes an Americano quite like you.”
I didn’t say anything. He goaded, “Nothing? No, ‘Thank you Rhys, I’ve missed you too’. No ‘Go to hell, Rhys’. Or my favourite, ‘You’re a prick, Rhys’.”
I stilled and closed my eyes. “Get to the point.” I didn’t have time for his wit or sarcasm. I just wanted to be alone.
His eyes practically burned into my back. I paid him no heed, though, as I poured the milk into the stainless steel steaming cup. Rhys cleared his throat, then said, “I was worried about you. After everything that happened yesterday.”
The din from the street below filled in the silence between us as I tried to find something to say. “You couldn’t have called? Texted? Something a little less invasive?”
“I called you seven times. Both last night and this morning.”
I frowned. I hadn’t checked my phone at all, too preoccupied with…
Absentmindedly, my fingers brushed the collar of my turtleneck. “I’ve been away from my phone.”
“I knew there was a reasonable explanation. But I had to see you anyway. To make sure you were okay.”
The milk steamer whined and I winced, then said over the shrieking machine, “I’m fine. Happy? You can leave now.”
“Feyre.” He sounded hurt, like he was betrayed or something that I couldn’t trust him. “Please. I’ve been searching every possible lead to find the people trying to kill you. You know the police won’t know where to start, they have no clue what happened with Isaac and James.”
Hazel eyes flashed in my mind but I shoved them away.
The bullet yesterday was a blip. I knew I should’ve but I… I just didn’t care.
“I told you Rhys. Let the police handle it, they know what they’re doing.”
“They don’t because they don’t know where to begin. You’re not listed to have any known enemies. Say, I don’t know, people who were killed in an accident at a coffee shop.”
I whirled around to him, spoon still in my hand and pointing at him accusingly. “You’re a real prick, you know that Rhys?”
Rhys stared at me, spoon raised, looking like a madwoman, and grinned. “There’s the Feyre I know and love.”
But there was this…this distraught filling my chest. Like before an earthquake when you feel the ground beginning to tremble beneath you, so infinitesimally, but enough to let you know that the whole goddamn world is falling apart. The blood in my veins froze, then thawed and boiled over until I melted, angry tears in my eyes.
Because this one interaction was probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in the last three months. Even with the wedding, even with the absurdities I dealt with being attached to this whole mess, this one simple conversation was more stimulating than three months living what was supposed to be my perfect life.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” he murmured, and I looked up, realizing my cheeks were wet with tears. Rhys’s face was soft as his gaze met mine. And I could tell he knew.
The ring on my finger, though, Tamlin’s words in my ear, made me snap out of it. I wasn’t supposed to talk to Rhys. I wasn’t supposed to even be in the same room with him, lest I wanted to royally piss off my finacee.
And I really couldn’t afford more nights like the last.
“Please, just get out. Leave me alone.” My voice was guttered. There was no winning not for either of us. Though Rhys had been a good friend, one of my only friends, my loyalty was to Tamlin. To the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
The thought shook me to my core.
“Feyre—”
“Get out. Now.”
Rhys didn’t waste his time and slid out of the bar stool, feet swiftly carrying him to the front entrance. I followed behind him quietly, arms crossed in front of my chest as he straightened his jacket and cleared his throat.
“One thing, Feyre,” Rhys said quietly, defeat lining the droop of his shoulders.
“What?”
“It’s Cassian’s birthday tomorrow night. He’d really like it if you came. We’re going to Rita’s at seven.”
Tamlin would never let me go. And I was in no state to go to a night club, let alone with people I didn’t know, because surely there would be plenty more with them. But the kindness in his voice, the gentle, sincere manor with which he’d said it…
“I’ll think about it.”
***
I wanted to hurt him, I realized, as I sat in the bath, filled with bubbles so I couldn’t see my body. Alis had come and gone, the only other exciting part of my day—and I realized, stuck up here with nothing to do, that I wanted to hurt him. Like he hurt me.
Even if it would make things worse. Even if it was stupid, and I was being reckless, immature, infantile, I wanted to hurt him.
If that was going out with my friends, my true friends who had been there for me, then so be it.
Because honestly, at this point, I didn’t know if there was anything else left for me. Hope had flown out the window the second that I’d pulled that trigger. The second that the bullet had whizzed past my face.
The second he’d laid his hand on me.
And I knew, because every time I took a bath, I had to hold my sponge as tightly as possible to keep my fingers from reaching into the drawer beneath the sink and resorting back to my old ways.
***
That night, Tamlin bought me soup.
Soup, and flowers, and chocolates—and remorse. It was all over his face, I could tell when he saw me in the turtle neck, and his eyes had filled with shame. Something softened in me, and I let him pull me into his arms. I let him talk, talk about nothing and everything as we ate in bed together, and he put on my favourite movie.
I let him pull my body into the warmth of his. I let him touch me, intimate in a way we hadn’t been in a while.
I almost laughed when I realized after we’d both finished that he hadn’t taken off my shirt. That it was too painful to remind him of what’d he done, last night, not ten feet away from where we laid intertwined in each other.
So, no, there was no guilt the next day as I donned my warmest pair of dressy heels and a white, thin strapped dress I could layer beneath the black turtleneck I’d worn the day before. There was no guilt as I went out and bought a gift for Cassian using my secret debit card. And there was no guilt when I texted Tamlin saying I was going to Alis’s for her nephew’s birthday party. She wasn’t going to be at reception today, and I knew that tomorrow morning when she stopped by it wouldn’t be too hard to ask her to cover for me.
When seven o’clock came around, I was getting out of the Uber, my stomach in knots as I made my way to the hostess bar and asked, “Reservation for Cassian?”
“Right this way.”
The restaurant was food by day, shots by sundown, and I could see the dance floor in the distance, currently barren. I think I’d been here once, many moons ago in my college years, way before I’d met Tamlin. I also remember puking my guts out in the bathrooms, which only brought a small smile to my face.
It terrified me with each step we took closer to the table. Knowing Cassian, there were probably two dozen people there, maybe a few gym rats, or worse, mousy bimbos—
“Here you are,” the hostess said, and pointed to the table in the corner. Booth style, not too far off the dance floor, with only…
Five people. Five people sat around the circular booth, Rhys and Cassian included—both of whom were laughing heartily at something a gorgeous, jaw-dropping blonde woman who swirled a glass of red wine in her hands.
“Feyre!” It was Cassian who first spotted me, delight in his smile as he stood from where he was at the edge of the table. “You made it!” He slid out of his seat and made forward to wrap me in a hug. I couldn’t help but laugh as his arms squeezed me.
“Jeez, you really need to come back to the gym. You feel like a twig.” He said as he set me down. I punched him in the arm, which earned me whoop and a strangely terrifying smirk of approval from the other, smaller woman with black hair.
“A twig who hasn’t forgotten how to punch,” I said, before sliding into the table beside him. Across from me, looking as immaculate as always, Rhys grinned as he brought his drink to his lips.
“Everybody, this is Feyre Archeron. Feyre, this is Azriel, Morrigan and Amren. But feel free to refer to her as Tiny One.”
“Put a muzzle on it, Cassian. Lest you want spit in your food.” Amren, the asian woman with dark hair and grey, gleaming eyes looked as though she would rather be anywhere but here. She looked like she ate blood for breakfast.
The blonde one, Morrigan, said, “These two always go on and on about you. I’m so glad we could finally meet. Honestly, they’ve been hoarding you all to themselves.”
“For good reasons.” The last one, Azriel, said, voice low and rough like midnight. As I finally took in the dark hair, tanned skin and high cheek bones, I realized that I remembered him. I didn’t know where, but his face—it was like we’d seen each other just the other day.
“You look so familiar,” I said, and Azriel’s head tilted to the side. His face betrayed no emotion, and I could tell by his stiff demeanour that he wasn’t much of a talker. It was like shadows clung to him, like he preferred it that way, blending into the background.
He shrugged, the barest movement of his shoulders. Morrigan interjected, “I mean, he does look a lot like these two idiots.”
Rhys rolled his eyes. “Mor, that’s no way to speak to the person who signs your pay check.”
“Last time I checked, Mr. Noctis, we aren’t at work. And I may address my cousin however I please.”
My brows shot up as I looked from Mor to Rhys, from Mor’s round, rosy cheeks, fair skin and nearly bleach blonde hair to Rhys’s dark, tan features. I drawled, “Cousins?”
“In the loosest possible term biologically.” Cassian supplied. “Otherwise, they were basically attached at the hip as children. And now I’m stuck with her for every holiday and celebration against my will.”
“I can always return your gift, Cassian,” Mor said sweetly before taking a glass of wine. Then she looked to me and said, “Oh, we must get Feyre a drink. Pick your poison.”
I hadn’t drank in a long while. Usually just champagne or wine at Tamlin’s work events. But it’d been a long while since I had…
“Tequila?” Was the first word that left my mouth. I didn’t know what instinct made me say the most potent of liquors, but the knot in my chest was loosening with every smile and laugh shared around the table. Tonight, I wanted to let loose. I wanted to damn tomorrow and just do this one thing for myself.
For once, Tamlin’s voice wasn’t in the back of my head with a warning. And if that wasn’t a sign…
“Ooh, I like her. We can keep her. Make it two.” Amren said, a wicked smirk on her face. I didn’t know if it pleased me or horrified me.
Cassian jostled my shoulder and gleaned, “You’re gonna drink me under the table bringing the tequila out this early, Archeron.”
The waitress interrupted us, asking for our orders, and I quickly glanced at the menu and ordered the salmon and a salad, knowing I probably wouldn’t be able to finish half of it. And, just before she left, Rhys added, “We’ll also take a round of tequila.”
The evening passed by savoringly slowly, peppered with fine food, strong drinks and conversations that had me stifling my laughter. Cassian, Azriel and Rhys recounted the times they were in the Academy training together and the foolish things they’d pulled on each other—Azriel had stolen Cassian’s clothes and forced him to run buck-naked through the dormitory courtyard—and Mor told me of all the stupidities that came with working retail as a teenager. Amren offered quips and snide comments, and chatted quietly with Rhys about matters that seemed business-related, by the look of seriousness in Rhys’s eyes. His gaze flicked to me, catching me staring at him—I looked away quickly, but not before I saw the small grin on his face.
The meal, as the exorbitant prices promised, was delicious. And as I predicted, I only managed about two thirds of it before a wave of nausea and fullness ran over me and I had to resort to pushing food around the plate for the remainder of the meal. Rhys’s eyes narrowed as the waitress took away the plate, and I looked off towards the expanse of dance floor to conceal the blush flooding my cheeks.
There was cake—was, meaning Cassian ate most of it—then more drinks. Too many, because next thing I knew Mor was laughing and screaming at the top of her lungs against the din of the pounding music, trying to entice the table into dancing with her. Azriel and Cassian immediately stood, the both of them disappearing into the amassing crowd on the dance floor, whereas Amren headed over to the bar looking for something stronger, apparently (as if the other rounds weren’t enough to knock someone as tiny as her on their asses). It left Rhys and I remaining in the booth.
He pointed to the slice of cake sitting untouched before me. “You going to finish that?”
“Hm,” I snorted, “another bite wouldn’t hurt.” The chocolate mousse melted in my mouth and I sighed. Rhys was across from me in the semi-circle, and with the noise of the club, we’d have to shout at each other all night. So I stood, cake, fork and drink balancing precariously in my hands, and slid over until I was beside him.
He looked down at me and wondered, “Didn’t feel like dancing?”
“I’ve got two left feet.” I replied before taking another bite, my eyes wandering over his seated silhouette. Tonight he hadn’t worn his usual immaculate suit, but instead opted for a black silk-like button down and black jeans, tailored to the very inch. From beneath the collar of his neck, I could see the hint of a tattoo, and my brows shot up.
“You have a tattoo?”
His fingers tugged gently at the collar of his shirt. The movement sent a draft of something sweet in the air, like citrus and jasmine. A refreshing, comforting scent that had me leaning back against the plush leather. “It’s customary for people in my culture to get these tattoos.”
“Where are you from?” I wondered, fingers wandering over to my drink (though I knew full well I should’ve been slowing down).
“Illyria,” he answered, and pointed vaguely to the dancing crowd, “as are Cassian and Azriel. My mother was Illyrian and we were raised on the reserve. My father didn’t particularly like that, thought I should’ve been in the city with him, but my mother didn’t particularly care about what my father thought.”
Sipping from my drink, I nodded politely. I’d never been to the Illyrian reserve, which was an hour or so north of the city, though heard about it here and there in the news. Mainly about land disputes and rich assholes trying to buy it out. Now, looking at Rhys, the distinctive striking features made perfect sense.
“You can stare all you want. I consider it volunteer work, letting you gawk at me so openly.”
My cheeks heated and my mouth dropped open. I scoffed, “Gods, now I know why your only friends are your employees.”
“Keep your friends close and your payroll closer.” He gave me a wink, and I rolled my eyes. My gaze wandered off to the dance floor, where I could spot Mor in the distance flailing her arms—gracefully—and swaying from side to side in her bright red, skin tight dress. Cassian and Azriel were alongside her, though Cassian’s eyes were fixed on another woman who’d fallen into step with him, a slick, seductress smile on her face. Rhys shook his head at the sight, despite his cheeky grin, and I only laughed as I took another sip.
“Why aren’t you out there with them?”
At that, Rhys also took a long sip. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “I prefer your company far more to their sweaty…” he looked over, just in time to see the woman unabashedly grinding against Cassian, “‘dancing’.”
“Glad to know I rank a step above that.” My eyebrows raised emphatically, and Rhys’s face broke into a smile. I said, “Reminds me of my college days.”
“You went to college?”
“Prythian University,” I nodded, “two years only. I was part of a sorority for a while, though.”
His mouth fell open in surprise. “Oh, Feyre darling, you must tell.”
***
The rest of the night went…easy. I wasn’t worrying. There was no impending panic. There were no fears. Part of it had been the alcohol, yes—it’d loosened what’d been wound so tight for so long—but being here, being with people, laughing with friends… My mind, despite the haze of alcohol, felt clearer than it had in days.
Talking with Rhys was easier than breathing. It started with my college days, then to his studies abroad—peppered with some particularly interesting sexual experiences in foreign countries—then moved onto how he’d met his friends, which he assured me, were family first, employees secondly. Cassian had been abandoned in the Illyrian village, left to fend for himself in an inexistent, permanently drunk foster family, and Rhys could tell by the way the boy never had a lunch at school. CPS hadn’t gotten involved because of the abhorrence that was dealing within the torrid laws regarding indigenous communities, which meant Cassian was stuck. Rhys had found Cassian shivering in the cold at recess—his family hadn’t gotten him a winter jacket—and decided to bring him home to his mother. She’d been furious at first, but Cassian returned the next day, and the day after.
The same had been for Azriel, though the details were much more vague about the man cloaked in shadows. It was a gruesome tale, being an illegitimate son, constantly berated and beaten by his parents and older brothers. He’d gotten the gnarled, scarred hands because they thought a fun experiment would be to douse Azriel’s hands in gasoline and set them on fire. When Rhys came home with another stray, this time his mother didn’t even bother with fury. Only set to buying another cot to be squeezed in next to the two other boys.
Amren, though, met Rhys much later—in his college years, after the academy. She was an upperclassmen he’d met at a bar and tried to hook up with, to which she responded by humiliatingly laughing in his face. Rhys admitted he’d never felt more undignified than when Amren was doubled over in stitches at the thoughts of sleeping with him. Yet still, they’d become fast friends, and even faster business partners. Amren was the top of her class in law school, one of the smartest people he’d ever met, and as soon as he seized control of the company, his first order of business was hiring her as his second in command and chief legal officer.
The second order was to hire Morrigan—simply Mor—as his chief experience officer. Her and Rhys’s father had been the most invested in the company being the two major shareholders, though Rhys’s father shares made Keir’s, Mor’s father, look like pennies. Mor’s childhood had been a series of parental pressure, encouraging her to be wed off to exemplary, rich suitors Keir consistently tried to set her up with. She’d been engaged to marry one of them, Eris, son of Autumn Publishing’s CEO, not of her own volition. Rhys didn’t mention any specifics, only that it’d ended horribly, and Mor had never been the same since. But she was fiery, determined, and Rhys could only describe her as his best friend (though he made me promise to never mention that to her).
At some point, Mor had to come peel Rhys and I away from the booth—despite our vehement protests—and drag us onto the dance floor. The whole lot of us were jumping, screaming at the top of our lungs, and pounding back more liquor as the night sped along. I danced with everyone (Amren compromised by allowing us to dance near where she was seated by the bar), even Rhys, whose hands had been soft and warm as they wandered down the skin of my arms and shoulders. Cassian and I shimmied, Mor and I fake tangoed, even Azriel gave me a few twirls, not before it felt like the liquor was going to come straight back up, and I had to take a seat. The plush back of the booth seemed comfier than when I’d first sat down at the beginning of the night.
“Feyre?” Cassian asked. I opened my eyes, not having realized they were closed in the first place. Exhaustion had hidden just far enough away from me to have not noticed it drenching my bones. Beads of sweat had gathered on Cassian’s forehead from all the dancing. My tongue felt limp and heavy in my mouth, and the room felt as though it was spinning.
“Yes, my good sir?” I grinned sheepishly. Cassian’s mouth fell open in amused shock.
“You’re drunk,” he chortled.
“Pfft. Am not.”
“Are too,” he said, letting out another laugh. “Dear gods. What are we going to do with you?”
“Let me have some fun!” I whined, then knocked back the rest of my glass. My fingers groped at my throat as if they could ease the fire slithering in my chest. It burned all the way down, like I knew it would burn on its way back up—but I wanted more. This excitement, this pleasure, no matter how clouded or distorted it was, was all I had anymore.
“Let’s slow down, there, you’ve had a lot tonight.” Cassian suggested as I tried to wrench myself up from the table to get more. My butt hit the cushioned seat once more, body bouncing slightly with the impact. It made me laugh.
A laugh that slowly melted away as I took in Cassian’s sombre gaze, trained on my mouth. No, not on my mouth, I realized, but lower. My neck.
My stomach dropped. The neckline must’ve shifted, already it’d barely covered them in the first place—
Cassian’s eyes were burning when they met mine, and it was like my head was dunked into ice cold water, and I was sober in the span of a heartbeat.
“Feyre,” he breathed, and it was like the rest of the club disappeared.
I didn’t waste another second. He’d already known too much, and by some sort of miracle had kept it to himself, but this—this would ruin Tamlin and I. Quickly, I scrambled to find my bag, and pulled out my phone to call an Uber.
Only to find twenty two missed calls, and over fifty text messages from Tamlin. The earth dropped out from underneath me. My chest collapsed as I realized how horribly, horribly wrong this had all gone.
I should have never stepped foot outside the apartment. I should’ve just grinned and bared it instead of creating this steaming shit storm raining down on me.
Cassian was shouting something over the music, and I couldn’t hear him as I pressed away from the booth, heading to the club’s side door entrance where the smoker’s were. A voice called out my name, and I turned around to look over my shoulder—
To bump face first into a hard, male chest, sending me nearly teetering to the floor. When I looked up, an apology already on my tongue, every nerve in my body jumped as my eyes met Tamlin’s golden emerald ones, boring into my soul like he would shred it apart with his bare hands.
“I didn’t know Alis’s nephew was turning twenty one,” Tamlin snipped coldly, his fingers tightening around my wrist to the point of teeth-clenching pain.
“Tamlin, please. Not here. Let’s go.”
“What did you think would happen, Feyre? That I’d sit idly by as my wife was out to a child’s birthday party until one in the morning?”
“Fiancée,” I corrected seethingly, my hand slithering between us and pressing against his stomach to get him to move. “Let’s leave.”
“Feyre!” A voice called once more, only it died out right behind me. I sighed, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as I turned to see Cassian standing there, his expression one of stone cold fury as he stared Tamlin down.
Tamlin, the picture of opposition, only laughed. “I see. Alright.” He looked at me, but inclined his head to Cassian. “You came for a quick fuck?”
My face flushed with shame. I couldn’t even look at Cassian. “Tamlin, stop.”
“No, I get it. I understand. I think I have to set the record straight, though.” The only warning I had was the clenching of his fist, and it was the only warning I needed. I acted on instinct and brusquely grabbed my fiancée by his right arm to hold him back. I hate that I knew it was his preferred hand to punch with.
Tamlin whirled on me, his eyes burning with rage. His hand clutched my jaw, fingertips pressing painfully into my cheeks, and I gasped as he pushed me into the wall perpendicular to the exit door. He growled, “Stay out of this. You’ve done enough already, you fucking—”
“Let go of her!” Cassian yelled, striding towards us like he was ready to slam Tamlin through the goddamned door.
Another figure appeared in the background, the same man who’d been outside the door who only uttered, “You two. Out. Now.” Pointing to both Tamlin and I, he signalled for us to step out. Even Cassian paused at the bouncer’s presence.
And behind the bounder stood Rhys, whose eyes were filled with contempt for the man beside me. He’d lowered his hands, thank the gods—I don’t know what Rhys would’ve done if he’d found us like that. Eviscerated Tamlin, most likely.
I just wanted to go home. I wanted the silence back.
“Let’s go, Feyre,” Tamlin said, laying his hand on my shoulder. I flinched at his touch.
We stepped out the door, and I didn’t look back, though I knew their eyes were burning through me.
***
“I told you to never speak to him again.”
I said nothing. It was true. I’d explicitly gone behind his back.
“He was being friendly, Tamlin.”
“You’re not friends. Rhysand is not your friend. How many times do I have to say it to you for you to finally understand?”
He’s more of a friend than you, I wanted to spit, but there was no fire left in me. It’d been strangled out the moment his hands had clenched around my throat, bereft of the oxygen needed to keep on.
“I know you went to see him before the wedding.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t even look at him from where I sat perched on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been following me again?”
“Because you’ve been disobeying me.”
Disobeying. The word sliced through me. Like I was no more than his pet.
“He’s the danger, Feyre. He was involved in the operation that nearly got you killed. The day after you went to see him, the day of our wedding, that sniper nearly killed you. Don’t you see it?”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to draw a map of Tamlin’s ignorance, of all the ways he’d went wrong—I wanted to show him his shortcomings, how foolish he was not to see that he’d dug this grave himself.
But there was nothing left within me. Only a barren of wasteland bestrewed with the ruins of the person who’d crumbled into nothing.
“I’m sorry.” The words were broken jagged pieces I offered to him with bloody hands.
He didn’t respond. Only approached me slowly, carefully, then tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I sighed and leaned into the palm of his hand. Then he was kissing me, pushing me back onto the bed.
Mine, mine, mine—I could see the word in his eyes, feel it with every thrust of his body from behind me, hands gripping my back and pinning me to the mattress. Protect, protect, protect. We both finished, and he rolled onto his side and fell fast asleep.
I curled onto my side, wondering if the tears would ever come. They didn’t. Only silent, dry sobs I tried to stifle with my pillow.
Because I wouldn’t dare shatter the silence I’d finally found at last.