#it’s pathetic he thinks handing a the only other key to Rhys who needs it for emergency/safety reasons

[yandere-sins]

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Ah, the month’s almost at it’s end huh? Man, I might actually tear up at the end of this for finishing another story... My stories really grow on me and then they just end, the tragic of my life ;; However, I quite enjoyed this chapter, a bit more scenery! Hope you like it ♥

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You had to admit, the ocean was beautiful.

Clear, light blue, stones buried in the sand beneath the waves. The rushing was as calming as you expected it to be from the natural sounds that you sometimes listened to before to help you concentrate on your studies. Loud, crashing, and overwhelming, yet mesmerizing. A morbid thought crossed your mind as you watched the water from your car seat, not yet having had the chance to get out while Rhys went inside with the landlords. Apparently, there were some more things to discuss, and you - unable to walk - would have taken too much time to carry around if Rhys had helped you out. 

Drowning in these beautiful waves, morbidly romantic as it was, would have not been so bad.

The tapping on the window next to you made you flinch, head twisting around to see Rhys smiling down from outside the car. The car locks clicked as he opened them with the keys, and he opened the door with you, leaning in for a kiss, which you denied by turning your cheek. However, from the corner of your eyes, you could still see the people you rented the house from - your parent’s friends - and you realized it was all show. They couldn’t see if he kissed you or not with his body blocking the view. At least, that meant you were safe from him getting upset about your denial.

“Admiring the scenery?” he asked you, and you merely sighed in response. To be fair, you were exhausted after the five-hour drive, and your legs hurt despite the seat being pulled back as far as possible. However, being a front-seat passenger with Rhys’s driving style wasn’t easy. There also had been a traffic jam where you had wished to escape from Rhys’s monologues but couldn’t even fall asleep next to him. 

“Let’s get you out, alright?” he sighed as you didn’t react to him at all, leaving the door open as he went to get the wheelchair. You heard his chipper laugh as he said his farewells to the landlords, who probably thought you were rather rude for not even looking at them, much less greeting or interacting. But you couldn’t care less. Would it have even made a difference if you tried to make them understand in what kind of situation you were? Had Rhys told them you were a bit mentally unstable just in case you tried to pull something that would have made them suspicious? You couldn’t know, and you didn’t try, the chance passing as they left your new home, leaving you to fight all by yourself.

When Rhys was finally by your side again, you didn’t help him, knowing fully well by now he could lift you easily. He had lifted you down the stairs at the apartment and into the car, locking you in knowing fully well you’d at least try to crawl out. The wheelchair squeaked under your weight, its wheels rubbing over the asphalt. You kept your eyes on the ocean until Rhys drove you inside the shop, a concrete wall blocking the beautiful view. 

“There we are, look!” Stopping the wheels on your chair, Rhys slipped by you, arms open as you presented the room to you. “Isn’t it perfect? We can open a little shop here, what do you want to sell? Bread? Flowers? Souvenirs? We can make it work! It’ll be our little shop, where we get our hard-earned money from.”

Finally, you let your gaze glide through the space, examining corner to corner. It looked old, a little worn down. The floor was dirty, footsteps everywhere, and you could see cobwebs on the ceiling. A staircase in the far-right indicated another floor above, probably where you were supposed to live from now on. That’s not what you had planned for your life. Having to sell stuff in this crooked little shop. You had wanted to study hard, get a nice degree, maybe work in the city or a big company outside of it. This was all your life would give you? Pathetic. It was pathetic. Rhys was pathetic. 

And you… you were pathetic too. 

“We’ll clean it,” Rhys assured you, walking up to you again. As if he had read your mind, but really, he just watched you intently as you mustered your surroundings. “Put some parquet flooring down, and have some tables line the walls full of goods, that would be nice, right?” His hand came down onto your head, brushing over it to the back of it while he leaned down to kiss the top. “Our little sanctuary, filled with all that we love, okay? Whatever you want, I will get it for you.”

You wanted to click your tongue, shake your head, make him go away, but you were so exhausted. Exhausted of him, of his doings, of what your life was turning into. Only a deep breath escaped you, and he patted the back of your head tenderly in response. “There’s something I want to show you before we go upstairs, alright?” 

Leaving you alone for now, he walked to the back of the room, facing the wall to your left. The corner had been rather dark, but now that he reached for it, you could see the handle of a door sticking from the wall, Rhys opening it up before coming to get you. He left the wheelchair in favor of picking you up, carrying you over, and giving you a first glance of what lay behind the dusty door. Stairs that led down was what welcomed you, and though it was tricky, Rhys did not hesitate shuffling down step by step with you in his arms. 

All of a sudden, it became unnaturally dark, with no natural lightning shining in. But if you listened closely, the rushing of water was closer now, and it felt like only a wall was keeping it from flowing in and taking you away. However Rhys managed to see, he eventually leaned over to set you down, his touch disappearing in the dark as he searched for the light switch. With a ‘ping!’ it turned on, a light bulb shining up to illuminate the dark basement. “A basement,” Rhys said with a mix of pride and happiness. 

“What do you think? It’s not big, but it’ll do for storage. The wall to the sea is a bit thin, but otherwise, it’s very secure and won’t grow mold or anything. It’s also-” Turning towards you, he wiggled his brows meaningfully. “-sound-proof and can be closed off with a key.”

For a good minute, you two only stared at each other, your thoughts circling over his words, an all too familiar burning appearing in your nose. So that’s what it was for, you thought to yourself. Rhys wasn’t just showing you the rooms; he was actually telling you what he was going to do with you in the future. Already, you could tell that this basement would not become your favorite place in the house, much less if Rhys planned to punish you by locking you in here so that no one could even attempt to find you.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you slowly reached up to hide your face in your palms. Concern darted over his expression, and Rhys marched back over to you, kneeling down with his knees on the steps around your legs. “Hey, it’s fine,” he hushed you, his arms wrapping around your back while he pulled you into his chest. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, you couldn’t help but do the same - at least as much as you could strain your arms. You simply buried your face in the crook of his neck, sobbing quietly.

“I want to go home,” you sniffled, loud enough so he could hear it despite the words being caught in his shirt rather than his ear. “Please take me home, Rhys.”

He rubbed your back attentively as you waited for an answer. Perhaps, if you asked him that nicely, he’d actually consider it for once. Rhys had always liked you most when you depended on him and asked for things that would make him look good in your eyes. However, that was the old Rhys, the one that you could only long for now to see. 

“Silly you,” he chuckled. Carefully he pulled you from his chest so you’d see his face even in the shadows of the light. The loving, attentive shine had vanished from his eyes, nothing more than a bit of anger left. “This is home,” he announced, simply, easy. A fact that he decided on, and you would have to comply with as you could feel he wasn’t going to discuss it.

“You’ll come to love it,” were his last words before he kissed your forehead, picking you up again. Leaving the light on, you could only look back over his shoulder as you two left. But you pinched them close, not wanting your thoughts to start cruising and imagine what kind of bad things could happen in this awful room below the earth.

“This is our home now. There’s no need to go back to anything in the past, you understand?”

Somehow, the nagging feeling that his words weren’t just a reaction to yours sat in the back of your head. But with the bit of strength left, you finally gave him a proper answer, nodding your head, not noticing the smile it brought to his lips. “Good,” he whispered, kissing your temple and finally getting out, relieving you of the awful nightmare that this new house would hide in its basement if you happen to not please him a bit more in the future.

Continue

[theladyofdeath]

V O I D { T H R E E }

Chapter 3. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters:  Fanfic Masterlist

“This moment will just be another story someday.”  ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Three weeks passed before Nesta began banging on Tomas’ door.

He’d been texting her, and she rarely replied. She hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts. She had hardly gotten out of bed.

She was already failing all of her classes due to lack of attendance, so she dropped out.

Then, she had packed up everything she owned, left the rest of the month's rent on her counter with a notice, and went to Tomas’ apartment.

He opened the door, clearly annoyed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“No,” she said. “I dropped out. I’m leaving town. Just thought you should know.”

He took a moment to process her words before shaking his head. “You’re really determined to ruin your life, aren’t you?”

She looked at him without saying a word. Part of her thought she should just turn around, walk away, and leave it at that.

The last three weeks were full of self-loathing and pure anger. She hadn’t always been like that. It had all began with him, the poor excuse of a man standing in front of her. He had destroyed her, had changed her, had ruined her.

“You were my best friend,” she said, quietly, when he had turned to leave her standing alone in the doorway. “I trusted you more than I trusted anyone. But you changed. The minute I slept with you, you changed.” She hadn’t even realized she’d begun to cry until the sweet salty taste hit her lips. “I hate you. I hate everything that you are, everything that you stand for, and every fucking thing that you’ve done to me. You are pathetic, and cruel, and you used me. You knew me, better than anyone, and you used me!” She pushed his back as hard as she could, hating him even more when he wouldn’t turn to face her. “You used me and you don’t even care! You don’t care about me! Everything was a lie, and I hate you!”

She yelled the words, screamed them until her throat felt raw.

Tomas said nothing. He simply turned to face her, at last, not a hint of sympathy in those eyes.

“I was your sex toy,” she said, her voice falling back to a whisper. “And I hate myself, every day, for falling in love with you.”

There it was. Everything she had felt for nearly two years, laying bare on the table. She had finally gotten the courage to leave, to walk away from him, and now she was a hurricane of anger and bitterness.

“You’ll come back,” he said, when it was clear that she would say no more. “You always do.”

Without another word, Nesta walked away.

When she made it a mile down the street, she pulled her car over and puked.

~~~

Rhysand got to Cassian’s apartment and opened it without knocking.

Cassian was sitting on his couch, brows lifted as he flipped through his biology text. “Rough day?”

Rhys went straight to the fridge and helped himself to a water. “Where’s Az?”

“Work,” Cassian replied, slowly. “You seem distracted.”

Rhysand shrugged, downing the water bottle before grabbing another one.

“Who is she?”

When Rhys looked over his shoulder, Cassian was still reading his book. “Excuse me?”

“I assume there’s a girl,” he replied, grinning. “And I assume she doesn’t like you. That’s a first. A girl who Rhys can’t have.”

Rhysand took a deep breath to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Who told you?”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Kallias. Saw him last night at the pub.”

Cassian worked at a pub on the corner of his street. It had become a popular hangout throughout the years.

“Yeah, well, Kallias is an idiot,” Rhys mumbled, plopping down in an armchair. “How're classes?”

“Hard,” Cassian said. “I fully regret my decision to go to college.”

Rhysand laughed at that. Cassian’s mother had always wanted him to go to college because she didn’t have the opportunity to. After her death, it was his biggest goal: get accepted to the University of Velaris.

And he did.

“Saw your dad this morning, by the way.”

Rhysand’s smile faded, quickly. “Did he say anything to you?”

Cassian tossed his book onto the coffee table as he stretched his long legs out on the couch. “Yeah. Told me to tell you he says hi and that your mom misses you.”

Rhysand scoffed. “Notice he didn’t say that he missed me.”

“I’m sure he does,” Cassian offered, hesitantly. “In his own…unique…way.”

They both knew that wasn’t true.

His dad had given him an ultimatum a week before school began.

Get back on the team, or leave.

Rhysand used to love basketball, but his father had quickly ruined it for him. A simple win wasn’t good enough. He had to live and breathe basketball, and in the end, he hadn’t enjoyed it anymore.

He had fallen in love with music, instead.

His dad had laughed in his face when Rhys told him as much.

Cassian and Azriel had offered their place without hesitation when Rhys told them that he had to leave his own home, only because he didn’t do what his father wanted him to.

He was eighteen.

Eighteen years of having to do everything that bastard asked of him.

Rhys was done.

So, until his dad stopped being a controlling prick, Rhysand was sleeping on Cassian and Azriel’s couch.

The door of the apartment burst open once more but it wasn’t Azriel who entered.

Mor came in, her cheer outfit neat and clean. She immediately went to the couch and ruffled Cassian's hair.

“I hate it when you do that,” he mumbled. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Morrigan?”

“Senior bonfire is tonight,” she grinned. “You two turds coming?”

Neither of them answered.

“Big college man too important to hang out with us high school kids?” Mor asked, sitting on top of Cassian's legs.

“Yes,” he answered, plainly.

Rhys laughed.

“Come,” Mor begged. “Rumor is Feyre will be there.”

Rhys blinked. “Is this coming from a reliable source or is this cheerleader gossip?”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Both. Elain is on the squad, and she told me that she’s bringing Feyre.”

Cassian looked to Rhys. “Reliable enough for you?”

“I’ll go if Cassian goes,” was all Rhysand said.

“Damn it,” Cassian muttered. “Fine.”

Mor clapped her hands. “Good! I feel like our little group hasn’t been spending enough time together. Amren is having withdrawals.”

“First of all, Amren showing emotion of any kind is shocking,” Cassian began. “Secondly, we literally spent every day this summer together.  But it’s nice to know that you can’t go so long without me, Morrigan.”

“Call me Morrigan one more time. I dare you.”

Cassian just grinned and poked her in the side.

Rhys shook his head as she swatted at him. The two of them could do this all day.

“Make Az come,” Mor said, rising to her feet. “After he says no, drag him by his earlobe.”

Az would say no.

He always said no.

Yet, he somehow always managed to tag along with their crazy little group.

He secretly loved them all.

“Yes, Morrigan,” Cassian crooned, dragging out her full name.

She pinched his arm before walking out of the apartment, slamming the door dramatically behind her.

~~~~

“Good. Let’s go before dad gets back and tells me to change.”

Elain looked at her sister and chuckled. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, flannel button down.

“What does he expect you to wear? A turtle neck?”

Feyre chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

Elain slipped on her little brown ankle boots and stood, brushing down her tee shirt.

“Trying to impress somebody?” Feyre asked, brows raised as she grabbed her phone off Elain’s dresser.

“No,” Elain said, looking at herself one last time in the mirror. “But, if I happened to stumble upon someone, I wouldn’t be mad about it. And you? Think you’ll see Rhys?”

Feyre turned to leave. “I certainly hope not.”

“Why are you so against him?” Elain pressed, following her down the stairs. “He’s cute.”

“So you go out with him, then.”

Elain just smiled. “Don’t think so. Besides, he’s smitten with you.”

“Smitten?” Feyre repeated. “Who uses smitten?”

Elain took her keys and wallet from the little table by the door before she said, “It wouldn’t hurt you. To get yourself out there.”

“Why do I need someone?”

Elain rolled her eyes, locking the front door behind them. “I didn’t say you needed him. You don’t need anyone. But, you might have fun, and fun is not a bad thing.”

It wasn’t.

Yet, Feyre had secluded herself during her first three weeks at Velaris High. She had made no effort to make new friends. Rhysand tried talking to her, daily, and she dutifully ignored him.

Elain had stared at her in complete shock when Feyre accepted her offer to join her at the bonfire.

But as they pulled onto the field where the bonfire was taking place, Feyre felt uneasy. It wasn’t that she didn’t like other people. In fact, she used to be incredibly sociable. After her mother passed and things became tense between her and her father, though, she had been spending a lot more time alone.

And she liked the solitude.

Elain noticed her little sister’s shift in emotions. As she parked the car, she said, “If at any time you want to leave, find me and we’ll go. Okay?”

Feyre hated the look of concern that washed over Elain’s face. Elain was so excited. She didn’t want to ruin her night.

“It’ll be fun,” Feyre smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

At least, she would pretend to be.

~~~

“Someone spiked the punch.”

Azriel shook his head, completely unsurprised. “Who?”

Cassian shrugged. “Don’t know, but holy shit, that’s a lot of tequila.”

He looked at his plastic cup with a scrunched nose before taking another gulp.

Rhysand laughed. “Apparently it’s not stopping you.”

“Oh, it’s not stopping anyone. It’s gonna be a shit show up in here in about an hour.”

“Rhys!” Kallias called from where he stood around the fire pit. “Come help light it up!”

Rhysand sighed, hopping off the bed of his truck and trudging through the field to the fire pit.

“Long day at work?”

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah. Some old rich bastard came and yelled at me because I hadn’t started on his car yet.”

Cassian blinked. “When did he bring it in?”

“This morning. Told him we were backed up and it wouldn’t be done until tomorrow. Apparently, he wasn’t happy with that answer.”

Cassian shook his head. “Regret not going to college?”

“Not at all. Especially not after seeing your nose stuck in a book non-stop for the last month.”

Cassian raised his glass before taking another drink.

Azriel just laughed and fell back against the flannel blankets in the back of Rhys’ truck.

The sun was nearly down as Kallias began to howl. The fire came to life. Azriel had a hunch that a lot of lighter fluid was involved. High school seniors were not known for safely starting bonfires.

Azriel had graduated with Cassian the year before. While Cassian started at the university, Azriel made his part job time at the garage a full time job. He knew cars, he was good with them. School had never really been his thing. He’d gotten okay grades in high school, but nothing ever interested him too much. But, cars? He loved them.

“Never let Kallias be in charge of starting the fire again,” Rhys muttered, hopping up on the truck bed. “I need everyone to make note of that right now.”

Cassian laughed, a lot more than he should’ve. Azriel assumed it had a lot to do with the punch.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Cassian crooned. “Is tonight the night?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes as Azriel blinked. “The night? The night for what?”

“Cass is convinced she’s going home with me,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “Which would be surprising, considering she hates me.”

Azriel shoved Cassian in the knee with the bottom of his boot. “Don’t be an ass.”

Cassian gave them both his most innocent look. “What?”

“Listen to Az, he’s always been the gentleman of the group.”

Azriel rose up on his elbows to find Mor, along with Amren and a tall, curly black-haired girl, standing at the end of the tailgate.

Mor winked. “I’ve always liked that about you, Az.”

Az couldn’t help the smile that graced his mouth. “At least someone’s on my side.”

Amren’s eyes narrowed, glaring at Cassian’s cup. “How many of those have you had?”

“Oh, Amren,” he chuckled, jumping off the bed and tossing an arm around Amren’s shoulders as his boots hit the dirt. “Walk with me.”

He led her away, a small amused smirk on Amren’s lips as they went to find more punch.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Mor?” Rhys asked, nodding toward her date.

“Oh!” Mor said, twirling around and taking the girl’s hand. “This is Carmen. We met at Rita’s a few weeks ago.”

Rhys rose to his feet. “Weeks? And you haven’t told us about her? Damn, Morrigan.”

“Don’t call her Morrigan. She’ll beat your ass,” Azriel muttered, then smiled at Carmen. “Nice to meet you. Ignore him.” He jerked his head in Rhys’ direction.

Carmen laughed as the music began blaring from the speakers in the back of someone’s car.

Mor gasped. “I love this song! Let’s dance. Az, come dance with us.”

“I’ll watch,” he promised.

Mor rolled her eyes but didn’t try and beg him to change his mind.

Rhysand cursed under his breath and Azriel quickly followed his gaze.

But his eyes landed on a girl with brown hair in perfect ringlets and a soft, lavender tee handing off her pale shoulders.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“Who is that?”

“Elain,” Rhysand said, glancing down at where Azriel was lying in the bed. “Feyre’s sister.”

Azriel grunted and nodded, unable to avert his eyes. She was beautiful.

And looking far more excited than her sister.

Feyre looked in their direction, connected eyes with Rhysand, and lifted her cup before downing its contents.

~~~

The house was quiet.

Nesta knocked on the door, anyways.

She waited for a moment, on the dark quiet front porch, before the door swung open.

Her father stood on the welcome mat, eyes wide as he beheld his oldest daughter.

Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair buzzed, her eyes red and puffy.

“Elain said there’s a room for me.”

Isaac nodded, not saying a word.

“I’d like to live in it, if I can. Just for a little while.”

Isaac simply took his daughter’s frail frame into his arms.

After a minute passed and he didn’t let go, Nesta wrapped her arms around him, too.

“Of course,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Of course.”

~~~

Chapter 4 coming soon.

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[hellas-himself]

Crack Ship Holidays

Halloween Pt. 1- Cassian x Feyre 

.

.

.

My cellphone falls to the floor and I groan, blindly reaching for it in the dark. Was it really five-thirty already? I tap the screen until the cursed alarm goes silent. I slide out of bed, taking the pillow and blanket with me and once my bare legs hit the cold floor, I shoot to my feet and toss my phone on the bed.

It was only October and the damned apartment was a freezer. But I have to shower; I have mascara and eye liner smeared on my face, my hair looks like a rat’s nest after all the hairspray I’d used and this dress- god this stupid dress. It belongs to Mor, but I haven’t done laundry in over a week and I needed something decent to meet them all in at the bar. It was beautiful, but it was so snug that it left marks all over my skin. And that wasn’t even counting what the strapless bra did to me.

Cursing, I shower quickly, washing my hair under cold water until it turns hot enough that I stop shivering. I blow dry my hair and pass the flat iron over it quickly before hurrying to get dressed. Mindful of where I will be today, I slide into skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. No one is going to see my Halloween socks, which is a tragedy, but at least I have my sweater. I know Mor and Nesta would look at me with disgust if they knew I hadn’t washed this sweater since the last time I’d worn it but it still had Cassian’s cologne. As did his leather jacket that he so conveniently left here after everyone had come over to play cards. 

My car takes way too long to start but luckily, I still have enough time to stop for coffee and a bagel before driving to the school. One of Cassian’s friends, another tattoo artist, has a girlfriend that teaches music there. He had mentioned to Cas that they needed an art teacher and my best friend gave them my number. I had been so nervous when he’d told me, to the point that I almost puked. But he had talked me back down to earth and drove me to meet the principal last week.  And for now, it’s just volunteering, and I can live with that.

I mentally go down the list of all I have to do when I get there. I have to find and park in the visitor’s section. Go to the front office and hand in my ID and get signed in. Scope out the supplies readily available and set up shop before 9am.

The security guard eyes my bag of art supplies with amusement.

“Carrying a body in there?” he asks in a pathetic attempt at teasing. I force a laugh. If I say what I really want to say, I will ruin this and I cannot fuck this up.  

“Good morning, you must be Ms. Archeron,” the secretary says cheerfully. She wasn’t here when I came in last week.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet.

She stands and leans over, as though sharing a secret. “You’ve got a bit of paint on your jeans.”

I look down. “Oh… That happens a lot.”

I set the bag down, taking my license out and sliding it towards her.

“Perfect,” she says. “I’m Briar, by the way.”

I nod, doing my best not to shove my hands into my pockets- a habit I developed thanks to Rhys.

“So, I know we asked for an hour,” Briar says, typing away at the computer. “But some parents handed their forms in late. Do you think you could stay until… eleven?”

“Uh… Yeah. Definitely.”

Briar hands me back my license and then holds out a name badge.

“I’m trying to convince the principal to do something like lanyards but for now, this is what we have.”

I put the sticker on my sweater, mindful of the sparkly bats on my chest. Then, she guides me out of the office and through several hallways until she unlocks the door to a room bigger than my apartment.

“The previous art teacher left it just like this… We’d hoped so much for her to come back, but her husband got deployed and she needed help with her kids. She moved out of state over the summer.”

I set my bag down on a table and start walking around. There was the teacher’s desk with the projector beside it. A shelf that housed various kinds of paints and two enormous paint-stained sinks. The brushes were stored in cups of all kinds, ceramic mugs and plastic cups, glass mason jars. This was heaven.

“So… I’ll leave you to it. The first class begins at 9.”

“Is there an attendance sheet or something?” I ask, suddenly remembering that there was more to this than painting.

Briar giggles, her cheeks flushing pink.

“There’s a book. But don’t worry about that today. I’ll send someone up with a sign in sheet for the kids.”

I nod, taking the leather jacket off.

“Thank you,” I say and she smiles, leaving me to my own devices.

*

The smell of barbecue is doing nothing to help how hungry I am. I step into the diner and go to my usual seat, waving at the owner who is already telling the cook that I’m here. I sit down with a long sigh, pulling my phone out and checking my messages. Two missed calls from Nesta. A text from Elain in our group chat. 57 messages in the group chat with Rhys, Lucien, Az and Cassian. I roll my eyes and ignore that. Then, there are the calls from unknown numbers, all of them within minutes of each other. I lock my phone and set it down, looking up when the bell at the door rang. My heart does leaps in my chest as Cassian looks my way, breaking into a smile as he walks over.

“Well, if it isn’t the new art teacher,” he says by way of greeting, pulling me in for a bear hug when I get to my feet.

“It was just today,” I remind him, “And hello to you, too.”

He flicks my nose before sitting down across from me. He smirks when he notices that I’m wearing his jacket. He takes off his own and rolls up the sleeves to his shirt.  

“How did it go?” he asks, adjusting his watch.

“It was… terrifying.” He raises a brow but I smile. “Kids are fucking scary, Cas… And being responsible for 20 of them at once is just…”

“A nightmare?”

“A dream.”

Cas snorts.

“It’s been too long, Cas. I feel out of practice… But I started them with color theory and having them paint their own wheels… The second class was even bigger and it was just so much fun.”

Cassian is still smiling and I blush, grateful that our food is being placed before us.

“I haven’t seen you smile this much in a while, bunny.”

“I was smiling last night,” I quip, and happily reach for my strawberry milkshake.

“You were drunk.”

“All the same.”

Cassian would normally push the subject, I know, but he only has an hour and a half before he has to go back to the shop. And between proving a point and eating lunch, food will win every time.  

“This isn’t over,” he says, stuffing fries into his mouth.

*

I toss my keys on the little table in the entrance hallway, kicking off my boots as I walk into the apartment. I set my bag down on the floor before I walk across the carpet to open the blinds. I look around the living room and internally kick myself for forgetting that my sisters are coming over today. Last weekend’s beer cans and empty boxes of pizza are still littering the floor and coffee table. Someone’s bra is hanging over the arm rest. Rhys managed to leave his socks under my couch, and as I pick them up, I make a mental note to bring up a ‘strip poker laundry basket’ for them to deposit their clothes when we play. I grab the bra and realize that it’s mine.

I start a load of laundry and wash all the dishes in the sink and around the apartment. Once I finish with that, I take out the trash which required two trips. When I get back to my apartment, I wash my hand and burn incense- dragon’s blood, Cassian’s favorite. I vacuum the carpet and sweep the entrance hall and kitchen but don’t bother mopping. The bathroom is miraculously clean, but my bed is a disaster. The fitted sheet is beginning to come off but I hear the doorbell and leave it alone, tying up my hair as I go to answer it.

“I thought you stopped smoking,” Nesta says as I kiss her cheek.

“I did.”

“Then what’s with the incense.”

“The neighbor was cooking fish again,” I lie, but it’s happened enough that Nesta easily believes me.

“Elain is stopping to bring dinner after she leaves work.”

“Are you thirsty?”

Nesta sets her purse and keys on the counter, shrugging off her trench coat. She looks as flawless as always.

“Feyre, we know that you haven’t gone for groceries in weeks.”

“But I have water.” I sound pathetic, but I am not going to tell her that I went food shopping and brought everything to Cassian’s house. He’s the better cook and I would rather drive to see him every night than burn dinner at home. I was never here as it was.

“We had a luncheon meeting, I’m alright for now.”

She sits down on the barstool and looks me up and down. I have paint on my jeans and shirt, and I’m still wearing my purple sweater with the bats tied around my waist. When I see her eye my socks, I start walking.

“I taught at the school this morning,” I say as I grab my bag off the floor. I bring it to the kitchen and start pulling out the palettes and brushes I want to thoroughly clean.

“Did you like it?”

“I did, honestly.”

For once, she doesn’t roll her eyes when I set the palettes in the sink. I turn on the water, grabbing the sponge set aside for my art supplies and the soap.

“And what did the school think?”

I blush at this. Nesta doesn’t do well with unknowns.

“Briar, the secretary, she says she’ll call me once she hears something,” I say, and before she can scowl, I add, “But the principal seemed really happy with what we did. They asked me to stay an extra hour… It was a lot of fun.”

“And if they ask you to come back, will you take the job?”

“It’s not a job, Nes… But I mean, if it came to that, of course.”

“You turned down teaching jobs to work at that bar and look how that turned out.”

“I was depressed, Nesta. Cut me some fucking slack.”

“You can’t expect Cassian to keep saving your ass, Feyre.”

“I don’t expect anything from anyone. Least of all Cassian.”

“It’s almost been a year –”

I set the palette in the drying rack a little harder than I mean to.

“Did you write that down in your calendar so you can remind me that Tamlin left? I know how long it’s been Nesta.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can’t depend on Cassian forever.”

“Why do you hate him so much? He is always there for me- something you can’t say. Honestly, sometimes I have no idea what he saw in you.”

“I told him I was sorry.”

“You broke his heart and have the nerve to bitch about what he does for me. I love you, Nesta, but give me a fucking break.”

*

I am almost glad that Elain cancelled dinner. Nesta had left once I refused to listen to her empty apologies. But now, I’m hungry. And alone. You can’t expect Cassian to keep saving your ass, Feyre. I laugh at myself; my thumb is hovering over the voice call button under Cassian’s name. My eyes burn with tears and my throat feels like it is closing up. Did Nesta not understand how much I hated the fact that I’ve had to ask any of them for help?

I toss my phone across the sofa, hating that I am crying. Hating that almost a year has passed and my life is no better than it was when Tamlin left. Hating that Nesta seems to forget that she was able to finish college because I was the one working my ass off to keep us afloat. Hating that I’d let Tamlin convince me to leave my job- my career- just to leave me.

I breathe in deeply, letting it out as I press my fingers against my eyes. I know that I can’t drive like this. With a sniffle, I get my jacket and boots on. The more I move, the less I cry, and by the time I make it down the stairs, I only have a stuffy nose.

The owner of the corner store gives me a sympathetic smile when they see me walk in. I can’t return it, but I wave, going right to the fridge. I grab a beer, ignoring Nesta’s voice in my head, telling me how irresponsible this was. I grab another one just to shut her up.

“Your usual?” he asks as I near the counter.

“Uh… No. Surprise me.”

Tamlin and I would come here every few nights, always getting the same thing. I’m not sure what’s for dinner tonight, but I see him throw a soda and bag of chips in the bag and decide that I’m perfectly fine with that. I pay in cash and wish him a good night, hurrying back to my apartment.

I put on a game show and sit down on the sofa, taking everything out of the bag. Before I open the Styrofoam container, someone starts knocking on my door. I don’t have to ask who it is, but I am still caught off guard to find Cassian standing outside, holding a bag of take out.

“Cas… Hey.”

“Your phone dead?” he asks as I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and let him in.

“No… I went up the street.”

He sets his bag next to my food and sits down, taking off his jacket and tossing it.

“Az told me Ellie had to cancel dinner with you,” he says as he starts to take his food out of the bag. He grabs one of my beers and opens it. “Iliana got sent home sick from school.”

“Oh… What about Val?”

“I dropped him off at Rhysand’s before coming here.”

I make a face. “Stupid apartment and its stupid dog rules.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as I sit beside him.

“I don’t really know,” I reply. “I told him to surprise me.”

Cassian takes a drink of his beer and chuckles.

“Well. I’ve got Chinese.”

It’s a sandwich, that much I know. A sandwich Cassian tries to take the moment I hold it out to him.

“Bunny, please.”

“What is it?” I ask again, holding the sandwich up and away from him.

“It’s a tripleta. Chicken, beef, and pork with cheese and those potato chip fries. And the mayo-ketchup. I haven’t had one in forever! I’ll give you anything!”

I start laughing, as if I would ever say no to him.

“We’ll split it,” I say, laughing some more when he hugs me tight.

Cassian changes the channel to watch one of our favorite crime shows. I take my boots off and sit cross legged. He smiles when he sees the little ghosts on my socks and reaches down to pull his jeans up to show me that he’s wearing the exact same ones.

After we eat, I bring the empty containers to the garbage and come back to find Cassian sprawled out on the sofa. When he sees me, he holds out his arms to me and I walk over, letting him pull me into his arms. I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes.

“Rhys says hello… He misses you.”

I giggle. “As if he didn’t freeze my phone texting us so many times.”

Cassian holds me a little tighter as he chuckles.

“You know how he gets when he thinks he’s being ignored.”

“He’s a brat.”

He laughs. “You’re telling me.”

I stretch out a bit and Cassian places one hand on the small of my back, the other on my arm where he begins to trace his fingers up and down bare skin.

“You alright?” he asks quietly. I don’t say anything at first but then I shake my head.

“I’m stuck,” I whisper. “What is wrong with me, Cas?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

The way he says it makes me want to believe him.

“What did Nesta say to you?” he asks and I sigh. “You only ever get like this when you talk to her.”

I cross my arms, resting my head against them to be able to look at him.

“She just… It’s been almost a year. And nothing has changed.”

“You really believe that?”

When I don’t answer, Cassian sighs.  

“Last November, you couldn’t leave your bed. You didn’t eat. You didn’t even talk. You taught classes today, Feyre- you would have never let yourself even think of such a thing before.”

He’s right- I know that he’s right, but it doesn’t stop me from crying again. When I get up, Cassian follows suit and simply pulls me into his lap, cradling me against him.

“Things like this take time,” he says. “And I’m going to be there, for as long as it takes. You know that, right?”

“I can’t expect that of you,” I say before I can stop myself and Cas goes still.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I’m sorry… She just really got to me.”

“What did she say?”

Once I repeat her words, I feel completely ashamed of myself. I want the earth to swallow me whole when Cassian curls a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him.

“I love you, Feyre Archeron. And I don’t give a fuck what your sister thinks. You are my best friend, just because she refuses to lend you a hand, doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.” He brushes the tears away and tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear.

“I love you, too.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting out a sigh.  

“I’m always gonna be here for you, bunny.”

When he kisses me, I practically melt in his arms, but I still pull away.

“Cassian, you know I’m no good for you,” I say.

“If you weren’t good for me,” he says as his hands slide to my waist. “I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s a lie, we both know. So I kiss him, adjusting myself to straddle his lap.  

“If we’re going to hurt… might as well be with each other, right?” I say, and he chuckles.

“Don’t use my own words against me.”

I kiss him, reaching back to untie his hair.

“Just this once,” I say in a terrible imitation of his voice. I run my fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. He sighs, and the smile that blossoms on his face gives me butterflies.

When he opens his eyes, he smirks; he’s caught me staring.

“Hey, the second time was your doing,” he quips, tugging on the hem of my shirt and pulling up. I lift my arms and laugh as he tries to mimic me. “This time and no more.”

“What can I say? You make me feel alive,” I declare, blushing suddenly. I did not mean to say that out loud. Cassian pauses his attempt at undoing the hooks of my bra. I have no idea how to turn my words into a joke.  

“Alive, huh?” he says softly. “That makes two of us.”

I don’t believe either of us are ready to unpack any of that. So I put my hands on his face and kiss him, and Cassian abandons my bra to slide his hands down to grab my ass. I shriek when he stands up, taking me with him.

“Asshole!” I shout, Cassian laughing as he walks towards my bedroom. He tosses me on the bed, walking over to turn a light on. When he turns to come back to me, I toss a pillow at him.

“Don’t start,” he warns, trying not to smile.

“Make me.”

Cassian chuckles at that and climbs on the bed, grabbing my ankle and pulling to him. He starts tickling me, and I have no strength to grab the other pillow and hit him with it.

“Stop it!” I managed to say through laughter.

“Make me,” Cassian says, mimicking me. But he still stops, grabbing me by the waist as he moves to lay on his back. My heart tightens in my chest at how light his eyes are. I reach out to brush his hair away from his eyes, then to trace the contours of his face.

“Plan on painting me?” he asks, smiling.

“Do you want me to?” I am out of breath.

Cassian traces his fingers up my spine and unhooks my bra.

“Not yet,” he replies and I laugh, leaning down to kiss him.

.

.

.

I had meant to put this out on like... Tuesday so by yesterday (actual Halloween) the fic would line up but fuck it. 

Cassian and Feyre are my #1 crack ship (that isn’t Sesshomaru and Kagome). I might try to do the next few holidays as well. But for now, it’s based around Halloween. It was supposed to be a one off based off a song BUT it turned into this fluff fest. Also, the “bunny” nickname came from another thing I wrote and never posted in which when they were like fresh out of highschool, Feyre went on a trip with Cassian and the guys, their dad. She wanted to try out hunting and shot a rabbit and cried so much about it Cassian started calling her bunny cuz it made her mad. Then it stuck. 

And then I couldn’t stop using it. I mean... he COULD call her Fey but no. Bunny. Also, remember how in my Elriel fic our Illyrians were basically like me and my family? Puerto Ricans from the mountains? We’re sticking with that. 

I do have to separate it into like 4 parts because it’s like 30 Word pages long and I can’t imagine how terrible that would translate on Tumblr. <3 

also, if you have a pairing request or whatever, I got you. 

[feyrhycien]

Will You Be Our Valentine?

Based on @house-of-galathynius‘ shitty real life experience (see here.)

I hope you still had a nice evening, love! And look what your post resulted in!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Are you kidding me? You're cancelling now?”

Lucien felt his stomach sink. She couldn't be doing this. Not today.

Vassa looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Please Lucien. I know I promised you to spend tonight together and wallow in combined misery, but you can't deny me the chance of true love! What if he's the one for me?”

“You met this dude today! At Happy Hour. In. A. Bar! He's not looking for a wife, he's looking for someone to bang!” Lucien snapped, unable to keep his disappointment and irritation at bay.

Her eyes shuttered and a fiery spark entered them.

“So what? Maybe I want to bang too, instead of being all miserable, going on a date with my childhood friend on Valentine's Day, because I can't find anyone else and he'd mope around at home otherwise,” she spat and turned on her heel, grabbed her purse and stalked out their apartment with her head held high.

“Don't come crying to me, when the dude turns out to be a creep, who wants you locked away in his cellar with all the other girls he keeps there,” Lucien shouted after his best friend and roommate.

Her words had felt like a slap in his face. Was that how she thought about him? Was he really that pathetic?

Yes, you are, he answered himself and sat down on the couch, running a hand over his face. You're alone on Valentine's Day and now even your friend dumped you, because she has better things to do than concern herself with your sorry ass.

Lucien wanted nothing more than to drown himself in a bottle of Whiskey and self-loathing, but just then the key turned in the door and his other roommate and his girlfriend stepped into the living room.

Rhys had just said something to make Feyre laugh, but the both of them fell silent when they saw Lucien sitting on the couch, dressed in nice pants and a pressed shirt, looking utterly miserable.

Seeing them, Lucien stifled a groan.

Right, the other reason Vassa and he had decided to spent tonight eating out together was Rhys having plans to cook a fancy, romantic dinner for his girlfriend, which, knowing the both of them, would probably end up with Feyre being the dinner and them having obnoxiously loud sex all over their shared flat.

And Vassa and him really didn't want to be around for that, if only, because Lucien was actually crushing pretty hard on Rhys and had been ever since they met, and lately also found himself fancying his crush’s girlfriend quite a bit.

“Are you okay? Weren't you having dinner plans with Vassa?” Rhys asked the same time as Feyre said, “You look sad. Why the hell are you looking sad?”

Lucien pressed his teeth together and didn't comment.

Feyre and Rhys shared one of their looks that meant their were talking without talking. Rhys took the grocery bags Feyre was holding, pecked a quick kiss to her lips and sauntered towards the kitchen, probably to begin cooking the fancy dinner they'd planned.

To Lucien's utter and complete surprise, Feyre came over to him and flopped down on the couch, her face turned fully towards him, studying his face.

Their knees were brushing up against each other and Lucien shifted a bit to avoid them touching. With her being this close, the gaze of those piercing blue-grey eyes trained on him, he felt rather self-conscious about the otherwise casual touch.

“What's going on Luc?” she asked, placing a hand on his knee for emphasis.

Lucien swallowed nervously, less because of the question, but because of her hand on his leg, that was causing some highly inappropriate images and thoughts to bloom in his head. Thoughts one shouldn’t have about someone else’s girl.

“Change of plans. Vassa met the love of her life at some bar’s Happy Hour today,” he deadpanned.

“More like a creeper that will lock her up with a couple of other girls he already keeps in the basement,” Rhys scoffed, returning from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of wine and glasses.

Lucien gave him a wry smile. “Exactly what I said. Get out of my head Rhys.”

Rhys and Feyre laughed softly.

“No need to read your mind for that. Vassa has the worst taste in men,” Feyre giggled and took the wine that Rhys had just poured for her.

“So true! What did the last one call himself? Death God?” Rhys said in an amused voice, handing another glass of wine to Lucien, who didn't take it, but instead regarded Rhys with a confused look.

“What?” Lucien stammered.

“You don't want wine?” Rhys asked, cocking his head to the side.

“No, I mean yes, but no, I thought I'd just go to my room or go out or -”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre have a snort.

“Please, don't be ridiculous. You’re staying right where you are and we're ordering takeout,” she declared. Eyeing the single bottle of wine on the coffee table, she nodded to herself. “And more wine.

“But you guys planned to have dinner and -” Lucien started again, but was interrupted by Rhys.

“We can have dinner another night. It's not like the food will go bad in the fridge overnight,” he stated determinedly.

“But it's Valentine's Day,” Lucien said in a last weak attempt to not upend their dinner plans with his miserable presence.

“Exactly,” Feyre replied, giving Lucien a mischievous little smirk that she must’ve learned from Rhys. “What more can a girl ask for on Valentine's than to spend it not only with one, but two pretty boys?”

“Will you be our Valentine, Lucien?” Rhys purred, still holding out the glass of wine for him.

Lucien felt the heat creep into his cheeks and dearly hoped it his face wasn't blazing red when he hesitantly plucked the glass from Rhys’ hand. Their fingers brushed and an entirely different heat spread from the place they touched, similar to the heat he felt on his leg, where Feyre’s hand still rested.

“Okay.”

They had a fantastic night. Feyre had ordered them Indian take-out and several bottles of wine, something that Lucien hadn’t even known was possible.

“You just need to live with Mor long enough, then you’ll know where to get booze at any time of the day,” Feyre confided to him in a low voice, as if she was telling him a secret. Well, it probably was.

They’d eaten and laughed and downed a few bottles, never moving further from the couch than strictly necessary. At some point, Lucien had gotten up and changed, trading his fine clothes in favor of a more comfortable outfit consisting of sweatpants and a tee shirt. Rhys and Feyre had complained loudly and immediately dashed to Rhys room, shedding their own clothes on the way, leaving Lucien slightly unsettled about the glimpsed of their bodies he catched, and emerging seconds later in an equally comfy attire - in Feyre’s case one of Rhys’ tee shirts and nothing else, showing off her pretty, naked legs for Lucien to secretly, and Rhys to not so secretly drool over.

And then they had somehow gotten all cuddly and sleepy while watching a movie, Feyre laying with her head resting in Rhys’ lap, sleeping soundly, her bare legs somehow ending up in Lucien lap, who was desperately trying not to fondle or stare at them.

“Those are nice legs, don’t you think?”

Lucien was startled out of his contemplation of Feyre’s freckles thighs. He didn’t know for how long, but he had been immersed in a silly drunk attempt to connect the little dots into pictures.

“Huh?”

Lucien raised his gaze to find Rhys looking at him, his violet eyes burning into him with such intensity, it made Lucien tremble.

“Feyre’s legs. They’re pretty. Well she’s pretty,” Rhys repeated, still looking at Lucien with a slightly wary expression on his face, like he was waiting for something or trying to figure something out.

Shit. Lucien hadn’t thought he had been quite so obvious about staring at them. He didn’t want Rhys to think he was lusting after his girlfriend. Well, he kinda was, but he hadn’t meant to make a move on her or anything.

“Uhm…, yeah, I guess. She’s pretty.” Lucien said.

He was trying to sound objective about it and not like he was attracted to Feyre. Because he was.

He hadn't known it was possible to be crushing this hard on two people at the same time, let alone a couple who was clearly in love with each other, but Lucien was. He felt himself falling deeper and deeper with every second they spent on this damn couch, drinking wine and watching a movie, doing utterly boring stuff that wasn’t exciting at all, but excited him nonetheless.

“You’re pretty too,” Rhys suddenly said, still eyeing Lucien attentively.

“I… what?”

Lucien wasn’t sure he had been hearing right. Did his long-term crush just called him pretty? While his gorgeous girlfriend was sprawled over both their laps, being half naked?

Rhys chuckled darkly, a sound that had Lucien’s stomach clench deliciously, and leaned towards him, his eyes boring into his.

“I said, you’re pretty too,” he purred.

And then Rhys kissed him.

A tentative, shy peck on the lips, like a hesitant knock on the door to see if someone was home. He withdrew immediately, studying Lucien’s face, gauging his reaction.

Lucien wasn’t sure he was breathing. Rhys had just kissed him!

He didn’t know if it was the wine they had, his pent-up sexual frustration, or the fact that he had wanted to do this for so long, but Lucien gripped Rhys shoulder and pulled him back towards him, kissing him fully on the lips. Rhys returned the kiss eagerly, leaving Lucien heady with bliss - and a raging hard-on.

“Hey!”

Startled, they broke apart to find Feyre glaring up at them from Rhys’ lap.

Lucien felt his stomach sink all the way to the floor when the realization of that they’d just been doing came over him. He had just kissed Rhys. Who had a girlfriend. Who was currently present and looking very put out.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she snarled, sitting up and positioning herself so she could look at the both of them at the same time.

She pointed her finger at Rhys. “You said I could have the first kiss!” she said hotly, almost poking out her boyfriend’s eye.

Rhys gently grabbed her hand and folded her finger in, so he wasn’t any longer in danger of going blind.

“Can’t help it if you rile him up with your sexy legs, making Luc look all adorable in the way he tries not to stare at you, only to fall asleep in the middle of your seduction attempt. Someone had to kiss him!” Rhys defended himself.

Lucien watched the two of them in confusion. What was going on here?

He was still wondering about that, when Feyre turned towards him, grabbed his face between her hands and slanted her mouth over his, kissing him emphatically.

Woah woah woah!

Shocked, Lucien shoved Feyre away out of reflex, throwing a guilty look in Rhys’ direction. But Rhys didn’t look jealous or angry, but rather turned on by his girlfriend kissing the guy he’d just kissed himself.

“Someone care to explain?” Lucien asked perplexed.

Feyre and Rhys shared one of their looks, smiling faintly at each other, and then both turned to him, saying “We like you!” at the same time.

Confounded, Lucien shook his head, refusing to believe what he just heard. “Excuse me, come again?”

Feyre and Rhys both scooted closer, Feyre leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she withdrew, her eyes sparkled with affection, but then Rhys placed a finger on his chin to make Lucien face him and kissed him too.

“We like you. The ‘we’d like to do stuff with you’-like,” Rhys purred, looking at Lucien in a way that had him blush.

“Or the ‘we want you to be our boyfriend’-like,” Feyre added, sliding into Lucien’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, caressing the shell of his hear with her lips, while Rhys put his lips back on Lucien’s, who was too baffled to to anything but surrender to their combined onslaught.

“So,” Feyre whispered in Lucien’s ear, making him shiver adoringly, while Rhy’s tongue brushed over his bottom lip, asking for entrance. “Will you be our Valentine?”

@mywritingbox @highlordkaz @stars-wholisten @illyrianrhys

[lady-therion]

Everything I Meant to Say: Part 3 [Nessian]

Summary: Cassian sends the wrong message at the wrong time.

(Modern AU.)

A/N:  Sorry for the delay, folks! But here it is: the reunion...

***

   Cassian had pictured their reunion a hundred different ways over the years.  

   Some were hopeful. They would bump into each other on the subway and lock eyes across a crowded train cart. Recognition would dawn on both their faces, igniting that familiar spark. Maybe they would fall in love again—or at least, become friends again; the years of heartbreak and baggage thrown to the wayside. Cue a 1980s love ballad.  

   More often—and more realistically—he imagined them crossing paths at a bar they both liked. He would catch her chatting with some fifth avenue stockbroker who would be feeling up her ass like she was merchandise. Cassian would staunch the urge to break a cue stick across the stockbroker’s face by making some shitty comment to Nesta, all cocky smiles and arrogance.

   Then she would throw her drink in his face, glass included. Fade to black.

   But in none of those admittedly pathetic and vivid scenarios did he ever imagine this.

   “Would you like to place an order while you wait?”

   Cassian glanced at his impeccably dressed server and stiffened.

   When Nesta suggested meeting at this particular cafe in midtown, he had no idea what to expect. But as soon as he stepped over the red-carpeted threshold, he wished he had.  

  This was definitely not a Starbucks.

  The host had taken off his shabby leather jacket and guided him to an private back room with plush seating and gilded furniture. The silverware alone could have paid his rent for the entire year. The menu—one page, single-sided—didn’t even include prices. Everything was crisp, polished, and set apart with exact and even measurements.

  Cassian was afraid to touch anything. He’d never felt so out of place in his entire life.  

  As if sensing his hesitation, his server leaned in to whisper. “There’s no need to worry about the bill, sir. Miss Archeron is a patron we hold in very high regard. She said you can order anything you like. ”

  Anything he’d like? He couldn’t even read half of the listed entrees.

  But the server only gave him a patient smile and said, “If you don’t object, I can bring over a coffee and bourbon. It’s no trouble.”

  Cassian almost asked him to hold the coffee and get the bourbon straight, but it was barely past noon and he didn’t think Nesta would appreciate him getting plastered before she arrived. So instead he nodded and the server marched away like it was his personal mission to cater to his every whim.

  Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

   The thought gnawed at Cassian as he checked his phone.

   Five minutes after. Ten minutes after. Fifteen minutes after...

   Nesta was late. She was never late. At least not in the time that he’d known her.

  Worry, dread, and irritation churned inside him like the world’s worst mental health cocktail.

  Had something happened? Should he call her? Would that seem too eager? Had she picked this place to throw him off balance?

  This six-star cafe wasn’t exactly neutral territory—this was her territory. One of the many tangible pieces of evidence of how amazing her life was now that he wasn’t in it.

  Cassian sighed, willing himself to calm down.

   He once had a sergeant that told him that the key to winning any battle was knowing everything about the field. Maybe the reason why he was so nervous was because there were too many variables at play, too many unknowns. He and Nesta were practically strangers now. Would they have anything left in common?

   Did they really have anything in common to begin with?  

  Maybe this was a mistake.

  He checked his phone again, which now read twenty minutes after.

  But this time, Nesta left a message.

  ‘Be there soon. Sorry - work and traffic.’

  Cassian didn’t know if that made him feel more anxious or relieved. Somehow, Nesta could always inspire both. Maybe things hadn't changed so much, after all...

  He was a third of the way done with his coffee and bourbon by the time he heard a familiar stride approach the table. It was the heels. Nesta always loved wearing those gorgeous fuck-me heels. They were her one guilty pleasure…and his too. Thankfully, he was able to shake off the unbidden thought like a flea before Nesta rounded the corner.

   And this time, it was just like the movies.

   Time stopped as they held each other’s gaze. She looked the same...and yet different. He always imagined her looking exactly like she did in one of those glossy, airbrushed spreads. All done up and unattainable.

  But no, she was still his Nesta.

  Or just Nesta.

  Her hair looked a little shorter. She was wearing it half up in that messy way he liked. It reminded him of the lazy mornings they spent together at his apartment. She was always so fussy about her hair; could spend hours blowing it out or braiding it in his bathroom. So whenever she didn’t do it, it was an unspoken signal that she would rather stay in bed all day—preferably with him.

  There were other things that didn’t change. The elegant planes of her face. The fullness of her lips.  The collarbones peeking up from the neck of her white blouse. Lord, those collarbones used to drive him crazy. But not as much as that dimple in the corner of her mouth that never seemed to disappear, even when she didn’t smile. And the little dusting of kissable freckles across her nose...

  How could he have ever thought those magazines did her justice?

  There was one detail, however, that was different. One that he noted immediately: her eyes.

  That steely blue gaze was always as sharp as a razor, ready to cut anyone down like stalks of wheat. They burned right through him whether she was angry or not. They were like chipped pieces of ice on a regular day—a broadsword on another.

  But strangely enough, the cold fire in them seemed...dimmer, somehow. Softer. Wary. Cautious. Cassian didn’t know what to make of it.

  He wasn’t even sure if he remembered how to breathe.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  He stood up from his chair, remembering his manners. What should he do now? Shake her hand?

  But then Nesta reached for him herself, wrapping her slender arms around his middle.

  He could have sworn something inside him broke. Because suddenly, they weren’t in a private room in some ritzy ass cafe. Now, they were back in his living room, when Nesta wrapped her arms around him just like this, as they swayed back and forth to no music save for each other’s heartbeat.

  I missed you...

 Cassian choked off the instinct to blurt those words aloud, afraid of shattering the moment.

  Instead, he returned her embrace, trying very hard not to tuck her against him. Because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t want to let go.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled against the collar of his shirt.

   He tensed. “For what?”

  “For being late,” she said, pulling back.

  Oh. Right.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

   They sat down across from each other as the server came by with another coffee and bourbon for Nesta and a refill for Cassian. Nesta greeted and thanked him in a language he didn’t recognize, then recited her order without looking at the menu.  

  “I ordered us some pastries,” she said, when the server flocked away. “You’ll like them.”

  There was no bossiness in her tone. None of the spoiled haughtiness he’d come to associate her with. Just...confidence. Just the ease of being happy where she was and the gratefulness that she was sharing this experience with him. Cassian didn’t know what to make of this either.

  “You look good,” she told him.

  Did he? Because he felt like utter crap. He had spent the last several days preparing himself for a confrontation he was sure would erupt. Because despite his hope and expectations, Nesta had always been unpredictable. But that was the old Nesta. This new Nesta however, made him feel guilty as fuck for making assumptions.

  “You look good too,” he said.

  Fucking poetry.

  The conversation went a little bit more smoothly after the pleasantries. For Cassian, it felt like trying to learn about a different person entirely. As if he were on a first date. They stuck to safe subjects—like the weather and family. Or rather, their mutual family. The details of which were fairly well known to both of them. Still, it was fun to compare notes.

  Feyre was still finishing up art school.  Rhys was still finishing up business law and was planning to intern with his father over the summer—his father was still a prick, by the way. Elain was still working at the clinic downtown, but was thinking about opening up her own practice. Amren just got a job as a curator at the uptown history museum. And Azriel was still doing some security consulting work for Rhys’ father.

  “Security consulting?” asked Nesta.  

  “Just a fancy word for corporate espionage.”

  Cassian would know—he occasionally freelanced on some of the assignments that needed more brute force than finesse.

  “And how’s Mor?”

  “Mor?” Cassian echoed.

  Mor had always been a sensitive subject between them—which was understandable. He did sleep with her at some point before he and Nesta got together, and it was always a point of contention between them.

  “Mor’s good. She has a girlfriend now. I think they’re pretty serious.”

  Nesta smiled. A genuine one. The kind that always stopped his heart. “That’s good. I’m happy for her.”  

  “And what about you?” he asked. “How are you doing?”

  Nesta’s smile froze.  “Better,” she said. “I’m doing better.”

  He frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  It was very difficult to imagine things not being okay. She seemed to have everything she wanted: a high-profile career, more money than she could ever spend, the ability to travel all over the world. From what he heard, she was already a very popular icon in Europe and was starting to gain some recognition in the States—if that commercial was anything to go by.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “It’s just...work can get overwhelming sometimes.”

  “How so? Isn’t it basically just playing dress up?”

  Nesta’s face faltered and he immediately wished he could take back what he said. Just reel in those idiotic words like a goddamn fishing line.

  Why the hell did he have to go and say something like that?

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean...I don’t want to belittle what you do...”

  “No, it’s all right,” she said. Though by her even tone, he could tell that it wasn’t and wished more than anything that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “I get that question a lot, actually. Mostly from journalists who are trying to be provocative. But I can see where they’re coming from.” She circled a perfectly manicured nail around the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re not wrong. Fashion is a little like playing dress up. But it’s not about the clothes that I’m selling. It’s about the fantasy.”

  “Fantasy?”

  “You’d be surprised at how many people are willing to pay for a well done fantasy,” she said. “When I’m behind the camera, I can be whoever they need me to be. The girl next door. The other woman. The faery queen. Whatever role people need to project themselves on. To escape from reality just for a little while.”

  She paused, clearly waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t know what to say.

  Who was he to know or judge what she did?

  “I’m still sorry,” he said, finally. “For my comment earlier. I didn’t mean to sound like an ass.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it,” she told him.

  Cassian swallowed. He was used to verbal sparring matches. He had no idea what to do with this.

   He never imagined being so awkward around her. Angry yes, awkward as fuck—no.

  “Cassian,” she said, pulling him into the present. “You probably already know this, but I didn’t ask you to come here just for coffee.”

  He braced himself. This was it. This was the part where she told him she was dating someone else. Maybe they were serious enough to be engaged. Maybe they were serious enough to already be married—though he didn’t see a ring on her finger. But Nesta was never one for tradition. In any case, he wasn’t prepared for how those thoughts made him feel like was spiraling into a black hole.

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I wanted to apologize...for shutting you out of my life.”

  Something twisted inside him. Hard and piercing. As though a shard of the residual anger he had been holding onto had been plucked from his heart.

  “Nesta...I…”

  “It wasn’t fair of me to do that,” she pressed on. “After your last message....I realized that I was being an idiot. We have the same friends. The same family. You’re still my family, despite everything that happened.”

  “Nesta,” he said, willing his voice to remain steady. “It...it wasn’t just you. I didn’t…”

  There were so many things he wanted to say, had rehearsed them in mind countless times over.

   So why couldn’t he say them now?

  “It wasn’t just you. I did some shitty things too. And it wasn’t like I was…”

  He stopped, unable to go on.  

  She reached over the table to grab his hand, twining her fingers around his. The warmth and feel of it was so familiar, so right, that he thought he was going to die.

  “Can we...can we call a truce? Start over? As friends?” Silver lined her eyes and Cassian felt like he was drowning and gasping for air all at once. He didn’t want her to cry. Ever. “I was so angry,” she said. “For such a long time, I was so angry. At you, at my family, at the world. I just...I don’t want to be angry anymore. Please.”

   Cassian swallowed. He didn’t want to be angry anymore either.

   “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s start over.”

   She smiled—another real smile—and his heart broke a little more.

   “Good. I was thinking...are you doing anything tomorrow?”

   He shook his head. “I tend to be pretty free these days.”

   “Would you like to come by the studio? I’m doing a shoot. I was going to ask Elain and Feyre to come, but neither of them can make it.”

   Should he? If he did, it would open a new door to another set of unknowns—another set of mysteries and questions that terrified him more than anything else.

  But...he would at least be moving forward.

  They would be moving forward.

  “Sure,” he said. “I can be there.”

***

Thank you for reading, my loves.

Other chapters be found in the Masterlist in my Bio / I am Lady_Therion on AO3

[alittlebookdust]

Book Review: A Darker Shade of Magic

Author: V.E. Schwab Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates, LLC Publishing Date: 2015 Pages: 398

I know I’m a little late reading this book, but nonetheless here we go:

This book is essentially about an angsty magician and a cross-dressing pirate forming an unlikely friendship to battle evil and save the world. And it’s pretty dang good.

First off, I want to commend Schwab for introducing a cast of delightfully complex characters. It’s always refreshing to see YA novels come to life in this way, where the characters are unique and sympathetic in their strengths and weaknesses, and riddled by pellicles of visceral imperfections. No character was completely “bad” nor completely “good”—except perhaps our two main antagonists—but even the absolute corruptness of the Dane twins was believable due to Schwab’s excellent world-building. The novel takes place somewhere within the early 19th century across multiple Londons: Grey London, which is considered the normal world in which magic is dormant and scarce; Red London, where is revered and the streets are drenched with the red hue it; White London, “a city drained through a magical war” and home of the treacherous Dane twins; and Black London, a London lost to chaos and ruin.

So Kell is our magician from Red London, with the rare ability to cross the parallel worlds. This makes him an ambassador between the Londons by day, and a smuggling collector by night. This hobby, Schwab cleverly uses to get the plot rolling.

Kell smuggles something quite complicated from White London in to Grey, which is where Delilah Bard, our cross-dressing pirate wannabe, steals from him. Again, we have an excellent manipulation of plot by Schwab, who uses the personalities of her characters to bring the storyline in to full swing through a series of believable choices that they make. It’s a classic and technical move on her part, one that is just flat out wonderful to see in a YA novel nowadays.

Similar to her methodical plot development, Schwab uses some pretty intelligent decisions regarding story structure as well. [Wannabe writers, pay attention] The book is written in a 3rd person limited POV, going back and forth predominantly between Lila and Kell with a few exceptions. However, this decision not only made the pacing of her chapters more fast-paced and enjoyable, but it also gave a nice tonal balance to the book as a whole due to the way Lila and Kell’s personalities complimented each other.

[I’m going to spend sometime on character analysis, so if you haven’t read the book yet of aren’t interest, just skip down until you see the ** for the rest of the review]

Let’s analyze Kell:

At the beginning of the book, our introverted magician came off as an insecure and anxious youth with a sort of inferiority complex with which he always made himself to be less than what he actually was. Despite his familial connection to Red London royalty, his deep bromance with Prince Rhy, and the profound reverence Kell generates from the citizens in Red London, Kell still manages to convince himself that he is just a pawn and a possession of the crown, no more. It’s sort of fascinating, however, the way he hides all of this behind a serene composure built upon his abilities. Kell knows he’s rare, he knows he’s powerful, and he’s always trying to act like he knows this, but also comes off short. Here’s a quote I actually found really interesting regarding this:

The people here believe that magic chooses its path…but by that logic, the magic had chosen Kell, and he did not believe that. Someone else could just have easily woken or been born with the Antari mark, and been brought into the lush red folds of the palace in his stead. (pg 256)

Kell can’t even bring himself to believe that he’s worthy of being chosen in any regards. Even though he puts all of his identity in his abilities, he can’t even manage to believe his abilities chose him. In effect, Kell is so insecure and sometimes even pathetic that Schwab needed to bring in just the right companion to refine our magician, teaching him to be a bold and confident person. So, essentially, Schwab carves out Kell’s opposite.

Enter Delilah Bard.

At first, I have to be honest, I didn’t entirely like Lila. I thought she was reckless, stupid, naively arrogant, and a fake. She’s this cutthroat who thinks she’s a pirate, but has no ship or crew or people skills, and despite all this she one-hundred percent believes she’s capable of such a lifestyle. Impossible.

However, the more Schwab unveiled her character, especially during in interactions with Barron, the owner of Grey London’s Stone’s Throw, I began to sympathize with her on a much deeper level than I had even with Kell. Here’s why: Lila Bard is the kind of person who could never form an emotional attachment to anything or anyone due to this profound fear she has towards settling.

…staying would have meant settling. In the end it’s been easier to hand the place and run. Not away, Lila had told herself. No, Lila had been running towards something. Something better. And even if she hadn’t reached it yet, she would… (pg 139)

Lila has, by far, some of the best quotes in the book:

“I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.” (pg 199) “A life worth having is a life worth taking.” (pg 139)

So here we have quite the determined little thief just trying to make something better out of what she has. It was here that I realized, these dreams of being a pirate and an adventurer, were really all she had to ignite a fire that was so often dulled by the harsh realities of a life full of abandonment and neglect. This made her significantly more believable to me, and I honestly came to realize that Delilah Bard would truly die just for the chance to reach out and seize any beauty from life, because—unlike so many of us—she really had nothing to lose.

Now, put a courageously reckless cutthroat with a powerful and insecure magician, you get the brilliant chemistry found within Kell and Lila’s friendship. I loved them more together than I did each of them apart. It was a fantastic duo, one which Schwab used to teach Kell bravery, to be confident in himself and his power, and to be grateful for the love he possesses. On the opposite end, Lila learns loyalty and friendship. She recognizes that there are things she could never do alone, and places she could never get to without some help. Her development, however, was a bit more subtle. At first, she used Kell to get her adventure, and slowly she began to actually care for him. At the same time, Kell began to care for her. Schwab brings about these affections through snippets of brilliant moments where we see our seemingly opposite protagonists connect with each other upon some very subtle similarities:

A wry smile cut across Lila’s mouth. ‘You’re a smuggler…If you live with royals and you dine with them and you belong to them…Why risk it?’ Kell clenched his jaw…’You wouldn’t understand.’ ‘Crime isn’t that complicated,’ she said…‘If they’re not in it for the money, they’re in it for the control. The act of breaking the rules, makes them feel powerful…Some people steal to stay alive, and some steal to feel alive…’ ‘And which are you?’ asked Kell. ‘I steal for freedom,’ (pg 266)

Kell feels as though he’s a possession being used. He steals in order to feel in control of a life that he feels is not his own. Lila steals not only for money, but for the hope that is constantly inside her; the hope that tells her “I have to be more.”

There are other moments, such as the one were Lila snaps at Kell for pitying himself in regards to his life with the king and queen—for having a family in which he feels more useful than loved. Lila goes on a memorable rant, raging:

‘…I’d wager you have everything you could ever need, and you have the audacity to claim it all forfeit because it is not love...Love doesn’t keep us from freezing to death…Love doesn’t buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need for nothing…’ (pg 235)

And in this moment, Kell saw Lila “not as she wanted to be, but as she was.”

**

I know this review ran long, but to sum up, buy the book. For aspiring writers, it’s a great way to look at the way a plot and chapters are structured, how the narrative moves from Kell’s more angst-driven tone to Lila’s sarcastic and witty one, and of course it’s a lovely example of wonderful character development. Especially take note of the way Schwab uses character decisions to carry her plot forward, and how she uses dialogue and circumstance to do most of the character revealing as opposed to straight-on just telling the reader. It’s most important to recognize that Schwab’s characters change. This is the key to satisfying any reader, and is the backbone to any good story.

Of course, A Darker Shade of Magic is not perfect. I actually think Rhy was not as present as he should’ve been—most of his character development was second hand from Kell and thus felt impersonal—and I think Holland was so close to being an complex antagonist, though it was clear he was written to garner more empathy.

Another issue was the plot resolution. I thought it was sort of a cop-out that conflict was resolved due to a fault (pride) on the antagonists’ end as opposed to a display of some epiphany of Kell’s part regarding his strength or character. It all came about too quickly, and I actually think Schwab could have spared another fifty pages or so, drawing out the complexity of the conflict.

Nonetheless, the book was absolutely solid with moments of flittering brilliance. I completely recommend it, and am excited to move on to the sequel. 

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 13

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Feeling cut off from Rhys, Feyre finds her dad in the kitchen in a compromising position. A decision is made about Thanksgiving at last.

Chapter 13

I tried not to text him. I tried - and failed miserably.

And even then only because I was too chickenshit to actually call him or go to his house.

But by Wednesday morning, I was too restless to resist anymore. I still hadn’t heard from Elain about Thanksgiving and dad was antsy worrying about it too. We hadn’t bought anything for food and I didn’t know if he realized it was because no one was coming or because he knew mom had asked me to come.

Well, Elain had asked on mom’s behalf and I still didn’t think I could handle actually going, but maybe my sister was right. Maybe I should go and try to work this out with her. We couldn’t go on not speaking forever right?

Most of all, I just wanted answers. The more her words haunted me, the more I didn’t understand what I had done. It would hurt like hell to talk to her about it, but refusing to rip the bandaid off might be worse.

Not to mention Rhys agreed. Maybe not that I should skip the camping trip, though who knew how he felt about that now? But at least that I needed to work things out with my mom. He got sort of sad every time it came up. He must have missed his own mom so much, and his sister…

Rhys.

I couldn’t stand it any more. I grabbed my phone and pulled up our most recent conversation and started typing before I could stop myself.

And was met with unending silence.

A few more casual texts were sent throughout the day in my subtle hope that maybe he’d simply missed the first ones, but still nothing. I hadn’t realized what a torture it would feel like not to hear from him. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d come to like him either.

But it didn’t matter. I’d fucked it up. We saw an opportunity and it let him down. Even if it hadn’t, I’d wounded something in him when I threw it back in his face. Over and over I replayed the conversation marveling at how simple and short the exchange had been to bring us to the point of not speaking anymore.

And I hated it, more than I should have.

Mor called me right before dinner to ask if I was coming with them for the camping trip. I snorted into the phone.

“What do you think, Mor? He’s not even talking to me.”

“That’s because he’s being a stubborn ass!” She shouted the last word away from the phone, possibly so Rhys could hear it, but I knew his room was far enough away from Mor’s that he wouldn’t. “Don’t worry. I talked to him and he’s just licking his wounds because he knows he fucked up a good thing.”

“Because I’m the stubborn ass and called him a mess, is more like.”

“You really think there’s nothing there? I saw the way you two were squirming in your seats for each other.”

“Mor.”

“You might as well have been sitting in his lap.”

“Morrigan.”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the foot action going on or the way he said your name when he-”

“Morrigan!”

“I’m just calling it like it is! Anyone in that room would have had to have been blind not to see the sparks flying between you.”

My face flooded with heat. I hid my head in my hands, my fingers pinching over my nose as I remembered how he’d touched me - the pressure of his knuckles brushing over my skin, his nose in my hair… I could have heard a pin drop in that room.

But it was only because Tamlin had been there. Rhys had done it as a favor to me. Nothing more.

I brushed away the tiny voice in my head that said no one touched a woman like that without feeling something more just a tiny, tiny bit and said, “Trust me, out of all of us, you’re the only one shipping it.”

Mor grumbled on the other end. I could just see her waving the air around her blowing me off. “Fine, but you’re still coming, right? My cousin might be a hot heaping mess, but it’s not like you’re sharing a tent with him or anything.”

“I don’t know, Mor. I want to, but I haven’t even figured it out with my own family.”

“Your sister still hasn’t called?”

“Nope.”

“Well, when you change your mind - and you will change it, Feyre, I swear it on my perfect GPA - we’re leaving tomorrow at seven. Everyone’s meeting up here and Cass is driving us all in his dad’s SUV. Mercy help us with him behind the wheel. He drives like a bat out of hell.”

“Still didn’t stop you from getting into his car in the first place, did it.”

There was a brief pause on Mor’s end.

“Feyre Archeron,” she said, maybe a little taken aback, maybe a little pleased too at my nerve. “We’re making progress with you yet,” she said and giggled into the phone.

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Really.”

“You better. See you in the morning, hot stuff!”

She clicked off before I could remind her yet again that I hadn’t made up my mind.

I tried calling Elain again and still no answer. She was as bad as Rhys. I was just about to give her one last call, maybe leave a voicemail to say I wasn’t ready to see mom yet, when I heard a crash downstairs.

The sound rattled through me down to my bones and I shivered. It sounded like glass.

I barrelled downstairs and could hear dad swearing to himself frustrated. I almost didn’t look. I didn’t want to. I already knew what I’d find, but there was a reason I hadn’t left yet with my sisters. I had to do something for him.

Dad was on the floor his back against the stove. The cabinet next to him hung open and there was glass everywhere. Liquid seeped into a now ruined label hanging off a larger shard and I could just make out the whis-- that told me what I needed to know.

“Dad - you’re bleeding!”

His eyes went wide when he spotted me and immediately he withdrew his arm, but too late. I’d already seen the blood dribbling down. “It’s nothing, Feyre. Go back to bed.”

“Hold on, I’ll get a rag.”

“Feyre!”

I ignored him and fetched a washcloth, dampening it and pulling out some first aid supplies that I took back to the kitchen with me. Sitting down where I could clear the area of glass, I fixed him a stern look and forced him to give me his arm.

The cut wasn’t horrible. Long, but shallow. And judging by the single shard with blood on it next to my dad’s leg, there didn’t look like there’d be any small bits of glass to clean out - thank goodness.

“What happened?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Fey.”

“Dad - what happened?” I ground out the words, my grip tightening as much as I dared on his arm to show him I wasn’t going to run and hide like I might have as a kid. And he looked so tired. His eyes were red and he hadn’t shaved. Under my palm, I could feel the callouses from the wood working he did to make his furniture pieces. I flinched when the stench of stale booze kicked in.

Dad groaned and gave a little turn on his arm so I could take care of it, patting up the blood with my cloth.

“I went to get a fresh one out,” dad said quietly, maybe hoping I wouldn’t hear. “And I slipped. Took the bottle down right with me.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”

“Geez, kiddo - I’m not that old.”

“No and you certainly don’t act like it.”

Dad went mute. I applied a sanitizing solution to his cut and he leashed a hiss. It must have stung.

Good.

“I was worried about… tomorrow,” he said finally. “About what a crappy dad I’ve been and the fact that I didn’t even get a turkey so I could at least pretend we were being a family together.”

I paused my work and glanced at him, but immediately withdrew. His eyes were too kind, his face too worn. If I looked at him long enough, he would stop being the alcoholic I made excuses for and become the dad I pitied and resented, and I’d lose it.

So I finished my work instead and pretended not to see him.

“You’re not a crappy dad,” I said.

“Hey, I’m the only one around here who gets to lie to cover up his faults, okay?”

He wanted me to laugh, but I didn’t have it in me. “Is this about mom? Nesta, Elain? Really, dad.”

He sighed. “I really thought that I would have things patched up by now. Maybe not with your mom, but enough at least that I could get work sorted out again and your sisters at least would see that I’m trying enough to maybe want to come back around more.”

I debated how much I should tell him. An awful, dark spot in me wanted to sugarcoat it. An even darker spot told me the truth: dad was weak; dad was drunk; dad was going down a long, winding road into hell and my sisters were right that I should leave. Just look at the mess he’d made tonight and this was barely anything compared to what he could do if he was half a bottle in and wasted beyond reason.

Who was I kidding anymore? He was a total and complete mess. This man who I loved, who had raised me and defended me against mom when no one else would was slowly becoming this hollow shell of a person I hardly recognized. And it broke my heart.

What hurt maybe most of all was knowing that if I talked to my sisters and even my mom, there was no guarantee they would help. Nesta seemed to hate dad anymore, Elain couldn’t be bothered, and mom - well, mom had…

You’re an embarrassment, a pathetic excuse for a man and I’m through. You’ve taken my entire life away - all of the things that I love. You can’t even keep off those stupid bottles long enough to wipe your chin from the last sip.

She grabbed her purse, her keys off the hook by the door.

I’m done. Don’t think I’m not taking the girls with me, either…

I shuddered at the memory. Nesta and Elain never saw it. They were still finishing up the last week of school. But maybe if they knew now how much danger dad was in, that it wasn’t just the money or the fancy clothes, but his life that was in jeopardy, maybe then they’d want to help.

Maybe then I should go tomorrow. If dad only hadn’t said what he said next.

“Thank you,” dad said. He took my hand and I was forced to look at him. “Thank you for staying.”

Panic flooded me. He couldn’t possibly know I’d been considering to mom’s tomorrow, could he?

“What do you mean?”

He rotated his arm, the one now covered in a nice thick bandage and gave me a sad smile. “Your old man’s not doing so - what is it you kids say? - so hot. I’m not doing so hot these days. You should never have seen this. I should never have put you through-”

“Stop, stop - dad. Please, just stop. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, honey. It’s really not.”

I couldn’t help it. Our eyes locked and that horrid feeling I hated more than the worst nights rose up in my throat threatening to choke me until my eyes bled instead of cried, until my voice disappeared instead of cracked, until my body went still instead of shaking.

It was a long time before I was able to swallow the feeling and bury it deep inside my heart. Tomorrow I would talk about it. But for now, I knew there was no way I was going with mom for Thanksgiving. It would kill dad.

“Why don’t you just agree to put this,” and I gestured generally to the chaos around us of broken glass and spilled liquor, “away for one night and get some sleep, hmm?”

Dad closed his eyes and briefly smiled, but I could feel the urge to resist my request building up in the way his neck strained away from me. “I’d like that,” he managed to say and at least he managed to keep from looking outright at the liquor cabinet. Maybe he would come back down and grab a bottle after I’d gone to bed.

“I’ll clean it up. You’re not hurt anywhere else right? Good. Now go get a shower and go to sleep.”

I helped him stand and step over the glass. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as I took the broom and began to sweep. A few spots of blood remained on the tile. I wondered if they’d leave a stain even after I bleached it.

“You got any plans tomorrow?”

I looked up to see dad hadn’t retreated upstairs yet.

“What?”

“Tomorrow. I, uh - heh, figured since we weren’t really doing anything you might have made plans to do something.”

I stared at him wondering if this was the universe’s way of giving me a sign. Either that, or Morrigan was a goddess controlling the world pushing me and Rhys together into the same campground until we’d made up.

“What’s that look for?” dad asked.

“What look?”

“You look like you’re trying not to laugh, but I don’t get the joke. Oh gosh, do I have a peanut butter in my hair again?”

At that I did, snicker. “Go to bed, dad.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

And though my stomach rolled nervously at how he might react, but banking on the hope that leaving him for someone - a bunch of someones - other than mom might abate another binge, I set the broom aside and said, “Well, actually. How would you feel if I took a weekend trip?”

Mor screamed at me in her red flannel shirt when I stepped out of my car at seven in the morning the next day.

xx