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Lover Like Me pt 13 | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 ** Part 14

In the end, I don’t go with him. None of us do, even though there’s a whole group discussion about it during the week.

“Don’t go.” Mor is cold and certain. For someone who is usually so warm, it shocks me how flat and unforgiving her eyes are. I am reminded that Mor, and only Mor, has already met Rhys’s father.

We’re sitting in Rhys’s living room like usual, but the boxes of pizza are growing cold and somehow I don’t think there’s going to be a Disney movie tonight. Mor had been relaxing next to Cassian on the couch, but since Rhys told them about the call from the hospital, she’s gone stiff and hasn’t moved. Azriel is leaning against the wall, and I’m perched on the kitchen counter next to Rhys. I slide my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, and don’t say anything. I just watch Mor, and the fury in the straightness of her spine.

“I mean he has to go, right?” Cassian, on the other hand, is all open handed and frank faced. I think I will always love him, for that. “I never met my dad and I hope he’s miserable out there. But if I had the chance, to meet him just once…”

“It’s not the same,” Mor hisses back. “The worst your dad did was fuck off. The worst this guy has done…” she trails off. I notice how white her knuckles have gone around her mug, and I don’t think I want to hear the end of the sentence.

“What are you thinking, Rhys?” Azriel, as ever, keeps his own opinion to himself. Rhys just rubs his face in his hands.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “This is likely the last time the decision will be mine.”

Rhys’s pizza is untouched, and in the ensuing silence I pick up a piece and hold it to his lips. He gives me a small smile and takes a bite, to humour me. He hasn’t eaten all day, and there’s a mug of tea gone cold on his bench top. My slice is only nibbled, but Rhys is bigger than me and I’m convinced he needs the nourishment more than I do.

Cassian is having no such trouble.

“So we’ll all come with you,” he says, his mouth full. That’s his natural state. Rhys shakes his head.

“No,” he says slowly. “I think… I think I want to go alone.”

“So you’re going, then,” Azriel says, after a moment.

There’s another heavy pause, and then Rhys nods. I look at Mor, and her face is stony as I’ve ever seen it, but she says nothing.

And that’s that.

The others go home after dinner, and I put the uneaten pizza in the fridge while Rhys has a long shower. I wash up his mug and a few other bits and pieces in the sink, and then sit on his bed on my phone until he comes out.

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask quietly, when Rhys sits down heavily on the bed. He blinks at me in confusion.

“Why would I want that?”

“I thought maybe you’d want some time to yourself…”

But Rhys pulls me under the blankets and buries his face in my neck. “Stay,” he says, and so I do.

Rhys’s skin is warm from the shower, his hair is damp and clean and smells like his shampoo. It’s quickly become the most comforting scent to me and I’d start using it myself, just so I can smell it around me when he’s not there, if he hadn’t told me how much he likes my shampoo, too.

I turn the lights out, and we make love without words but with many silent things passed between our mouths that mean more than the things we could say out loud.

Rhys doesn’t go the next day, or the day after. On one of the nights, I come home after work and I can hear him and Mor arguing loudly in his apartment. It’s not something I feel I have a part in, so I don’t go in, but even from my house I can hear Mor shouting. And after a while, a third, murmuring voice. When she finally storms out, I look out my window and see Azriel follow her quietly to her place.

Rhys walks through my door a little while after that, and I hand him a bowl of pasta. We don’t talk about their fight.

On Thursday night he makes up his mind, and on Friday morning he’s up early like usual so all I tell him is “good luck,” and he kisses my mouth before he leaves.

When I wake up an hour after that, I go to work and all day I keep checking my phone for updates. None come. I send a few texts early on- “how are you feeling?” “Text me when you get there,” “I’m here to talk if you need to call”- but get no response. It’s unreasonable for me to wait for them; I imagine he’s driving for the most part and not feeling chatty the rest. But I still do, and when the message comes, hours later, it’s not from Rhys. It’s Azriel.

Azriel: He’s back. He’s at work.

I tap out my reply fast.

Feyre: He’s at work? He’s not taking the rest of the day off?

I quickly do the math in my head- if Rhys is back by now, he must have spent less than an hour at the hospital. Did that mean things went well, or very badly?

“Guess not,” is all Azriel says. Then he sends me the address of the auto shop, and a quick Google tells me a bus will get me there in twenty. I make my excuses to my coworker, and she waves me off. I’m grateful the store is quiet, but I’d have left even if it wasn’t.

When I get to the shop, I see Cassian, Mor and Azriel all standing in a knot by the door.

“Hey, Feyre,” Cassian greets me.

It’s a bright sunny day and the three of them are in dark blue jumpsuits that have the shop’s logo embroidered on the chest. Cassian has his hair bundled on top of his head, and he gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“How is he?”

Rhys’s friends just glance at each other, and they look as worried as I feel. It’s not reassuring.

“Hard to say,” Cassian tells me. “He hasn’t said anything, he just turned up and started working. We didn’t expect him in today at all.”

“He shouldn’t have fucking gone,” Mor says. “I told him not to go. Nothing good happens when that man is in Rhys’s life.”

I look from one to the other. Mor’s blonde ponytail swings as she shakes her head. She’s wearing a stained white tank top under her jumpsuit, with the buttons are undone and the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. Even in my harried state I manage to notice she looks incredible even in greasy work clothes. I realise that I’ve never been to Rhys’s work place, even though this is where my friends all spend most of their day.

“We’ve been trying to check on him, but I don’t think he wants to talk,” Cassian says, breaking me out of my rambling reverie. I notice I’m chewing on my thumb nail, and pull it out of my mouth.

“What should I do?” I ask him. He shrugs.

“Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“It’s worth a try,” Mor says. “We’re mostly done for the day, but we can stick around and try to help…” She glances at Cassian, and I can feel how helpless they’re feeling.

“No it’s okay, you guys go. I’ll talk to him.”

Cassian clasps my shoulder on his way out, and Mor throws me a look that is part sympathetic, and part grateful. I think, don’t thank me yet. I don’t know what I can do for Rhys that his friends couldn’t.

And then only Azriel is left, leaning against the door frame.

“Thanks for texting me,” I say to him. Azriel just looks at me, with that unreadable stare of his.

“I thought you’d want to be here,” he says. “But… there’s some things you should know about Rhys. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure you’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”

I wait. Azriel sighs.

“He’s not… himself right now,” he tells me.

I cock my head and gaze back at Rhys’s friend. I wonder who he’s trying to protect right now- me, or Rhys. I think he’s sweet either way.

“There are three levels of Rhys being upset,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Level one, he’s grumpy but you can fix him with a cup of tea and a sleeve of cookies. Level two, he’s mad, but he's distractable and it’s usually a good idea to get his… heart rate up.” A hint of a smile warms Azriel’s face. “Level three, things have gone very wrong. At this level, Rhys likes... hurt.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and the warmth disappears.

“I know I’ve only known Rhys for a few months, but my tactic is to work my way up the list until of one those things sticks. Did I miss anything?”

Azriel says nothing for a moment, and then eventually shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That is correct.” He pauses again. “And you still want to go in there?”

“I do.”

Azriel still doesn’t move. I soften, and think that maybe Azriel is usually the one who takes on Rhys at level three. I can see Mor and Cassian putting the kettle on and sparring but Azriel… I look at my feet, then take a step closer. I make the confession under my breath.

“Sometimes, I like hurt, too.”

I look up at him, and he’s reassessing. I don’t know what conclusion he draws, but he pushes off the door and walks away.

I’m surprised when I feel the squeeze of his hand on mine, just briefly, as he goes.

I pass through the front office and into the shop out the back. The room opens up into a huge space with bright fluorescent lights and concrete walls. There are a large number of tools and other objects I can’t identify on hooks and shelves, and two cars up near the ceiling. I can’t see Rhys, but I can hear the clink of metal on metal echoing through the space.

I walk around, taking in my surroundings for a while. I make sure my footsteps make noise, so that Rhys knows I’m here, and my eyes run over the stacks of tyres, the red and black pillars of the hoists, and the strangeness of having several tonnes of vehicle suspended above head height. I even find what I assume is Rhys’s motorcycle, tucked against a far wall. I walk toward the clinking instead.

“They’ve all gone, have they?” Rhys asks. I still can’t see him.

“Yes,” I tell him. “It’s just me.”

There’s a tension hanging heavy in the atmosphere, another fume in the oily air. I can taste it coating my tongue, and I can see why I found his friends all standing outside. Bad, then. Things went badly, with his father.

“Good,” Rhys comments. “They were annoying me.”

There’s a loud clang as he drops his tool into a box nearby, and then he steps out from behind the car he was working on. He’s wiping his hands on a rag, and I just stand and wait. Rhys has the arms of his jumpsuit tied around his waist, and he’s in one of his black singlets. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his bare arms, and a stray curl is falling in his eyes. On the surface he looks calm, but there’s something beneath that, something that my brain doesn’t have a name for but my body is responding to. Run, it’s saying, but it’s not clarifying in which direction. I keep standing still.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?” he says. His voice is flat and cold.

“Only if you want to tell me,” I respond. Rhys throws the rag on a table, and sighs.

“Can I tell you about it later?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what I actually feeling like doing right now?”

“Tell me.”

“I feel like tying you to this hoist and fucking you till you scream.”

The air goes out of my lungs so fast.

My head empties, my toes curl, and I just think, Is that all it takes, with us? I shouldn't be surprised, by now.

I blush at the thought of anyone else possibly overhearing us, I know the guys have gone but I don’t know if anyone else works here, or if his boss is somewhere out of sight or…. But I’m looking at Rhys and he’s looking at me and he shares none of my concerns.

I take one step to the left, my knees only just holding me up, and put my hand on one of the black pillars. I look at it; the painted surface is shiny and cold under my fingers. I was never too good with words, anyway.

“This one?” I ask, much more casually than I feel.

“Well the other two are holding cars up.” Rhys starts walking toward me- stalking is more like it, he’s got that predatory look in his eye that makes me convinced that any second he’s going to sprout wings and fangs. My heart thunders in my ears.

“I guess that’s true.”

There a primal instinct somewhere in my brain that has me backing away, even though I know I look ridiculous hiding behind the post.

“Where are you going?” he asks. His voice has dropped to that low place that sends skitters up my spine. I step again, rounding the pillar, but he keeps coming.

“Just… admiring the machinery. Never been in a garage before.”

Rhys is standing right in front of me now, but there’s a red metal arm between us, jutting out from the post about the height of my waist. He leans his forearm against the pillar, right by my head, and leans in close.

“Put your hands on the bar, Feyre.”

I do it, and grip it so that Rhys can’t see the tremor. I’m not afraid of him, it’s just that my adrenalin spikes when he gets like this and… the anticipation is as potent as fear itself.

“Stay there.”

Rhys steps away and returns with a length of strap. He winds it around my wrists and binds me to the red bar. Then he walks behind me, and when I can’t see him my heartrate kicks even higher. I don’t know how close he is to me until I feel his breath on my ear.

“Good girl,” he croons. I shiver.

I’m convinced he’s going to bend me over just like this, but then there’s just silence and cold air. I’ve just started to wonder where he’s gone, when I’m startled by a loud noise. It’s a sort of grinding sound, and before I can guess what it might be, the bar under my hands starts to move. I whip my head around, and find Rhys several paces away with his thumb on a green button and his eyes watching me like I’m his next meal.

I watch him back at first, but then I look back toward the red bar because it’s risen to eye height. I’m leaning against it still, because my legs are jelly. But the bar keeps rising, and my arms are lifted above my head. I’m stretched out, I’m on my tiptoes. Just before I’m lifted clean off my feet, the grinding noise stops, and everything is still again. I can just barely put weight in the balls of my feet.

“Rhys…”

He comes back to stand before me, hands behind his back and something taunting in the corner of his mouth.

“Comfortable, Feyre darling?”

No. I stick my chin out. “Very,” I say coolly, and he chuckles.

“Good.”

At that moment, there’s the bright ding of a desk bell, and I realise that Azriel hadn’t turned the Open sign around when he left. Rhys looks toward the sound.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says, and gives me a cruel smile. Prick.

Rhys walks out to the office, and I’m just left there to hang.

He’s gone for what must be a few minutes but feels like an age, and I can hear muted voices in the adjoining room. A laugh, even, and I’m a little scandalised that Rhys can put on his friendly customer-service voice while I’m tied up in the shop only meters away. For a second, I have the mortifying thought that he might bring someone through while I’m suspended here, but I quickly banish it. Rhys wouldn’t humiliate me like that. Would he?

Finally he returns, and as he walks toward me he pulls another strap off the wall and slings it over his shoulder.

“Now,” he says, inches from my face. He slides his hands into his pockets. “Where were we?”

“Hope you’re not turning down business on my account,” I say. It’s all bravado, of course, but the last thing Rhys needs is to think I’m scared of him.

“I told him to come back tomorrow,” Rhys replies. “But I can call him back if you really want.” He leans in close. “If you’re not satisfied with just one of me.”

I just shrug- or I try to, but my shoulders are already up by my ears and starting to ache. Rhys laughs at me. He steps back, and begins to walk around me again. When he can’t see my face, I quietly blow a breath out. I’m trying to remain calm, but I’m so completely out of my depth. I’m strung up, pushing up on my tiptoes to relieve the pressure on my wrists, and he’s circling me with eyes that devour. I still can’t see him, but suddenly there’s a breath on the back of my neck. His hand lands on the side of my throat, thumb in the base of my skull and a long forefinger over my windpipe. He puts his teeth on the join of my shoulder, and he’s hard against my backside.

“Mmm I like you like this,” he murmurs, and the rumble in his voice has me arching against him. He’s finally touching me, and it’s not enough. I shudder, and he squeezes my throat before letting go and I’m cold all over.

Next thing I know, his lips touch the nape of my neck, and his hands are sliding up the sides of my thighs. They’re so warm against my skin, under my dress, and then brushing over my stomach. My hands twitch but of course I can’t touch him back. He hooks his fingers into the band of my underwear and then tugs them down; threads my feet through to get them off me. They go into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

Next, Rhys walks around in front of me again, but he’s not looking at my face. He slowly starts to undo the buttons down the front of my dress, enough to get his hands over my bra, and exhales through his teeth when he squeezes my breasts.

“Yeah,” he says, “I should have gotten you in here ages ago.”

“You can walk circles around me at home,” I shoot back, and I’m just mad because he isn’t kissing me. Rhys’s eyes darken.

“I had a few other things planned,” he tells me, and then he rips my dress the rest of the way open so buttons clatter to the floor.

“I liked this dress,” I hiss. I’m goading him and I know it. Come on, I think. I can take it.

“I like it better this way.”

He gathers the two sides up in his hands and ties them in a knot at my stomach.

“You’ll pay for a new one,” I say.

“And you’ll pay for giving me lip.” The strap slides from his shoulder and into his hands.

“Do it,” I spit. And quicker than I thought possible, the strap lashes out and strikes across my lower belly. I gasp at the sudden pain, but it settles into a heat somewhere behind my navel. I shouldn’t be surprised by now that it feels good. Rhys laughs darkly, and begins to circle again.

“Want another one?” he purrs. I grit my teeth.

“Yes,” I choke out.

The strap lands again, this time against my bare ass. Electricity snaps hot over my skin. I cry out, and then bite my lip against it. When he whips me again, I hold the sound behind my teeth.

“Oh come now,” Rhys says. He grips my throat again, and pulls me back against his body. “Don’t be a spoil-sport.” His voice sinks low. “Moan for me.” And then he drops the strap and smacks me with his hand. My jaw drops open and I didn’t need his instruction- the moan is involuntary.

“Good girl,” he says at my ear, and the next slap stings near the join at the top of my leg. I moan again, as every hair on my body stands on end, and I’m rewarded with soothing circles rubbed over the reddened skin. It lasts only a few seconds before I’m spanked a fifth time, and this time when he does it his teeth sink into my shoulder. He rubs over the sore spot again.

“So fucking good,” he praises, and his thumb strokes the side of my neck in time with his hand on my ass. “You like being spanked like that?” he asks. I don’t respond, but his fingers move over my hip and between my legs and he finds his answer.

“Fuck Feyre,” he growls. “If I’d known I could get you so wet by smacking your ass…”

His hand leaves my throat so he can spank me again on the other cheek, a fresh pain, while the other hand starts to move where it is. I moan louder now, and hope to god he’s locked the front office up. He strokes over my clit while he squeezes my backside where he hit me, and I’m turning to liquid under his touch.

“Do you even know what you do to me?” Rhys mutters. I’m losing coherence and he’s talking about what I’m doing to him? He grips my hip and grinds into my ass while he touches me, the solid line of him pushing against me hard enough to bruise. Point made.

“I have some idea,” I tease, but it comes out breathy. His fingers speed up on my clit, and I lose my legs entirely. The strap cuts into my wrists but I barely feel it.

“Doubtful,” is all he says, and his hand moves lower. His fingers push inside me but the heel of his palm keeps contact with my clit. There's a soft groan from behind me as he slides in to his knuckles. He’s rubbing his cock against my ass as his fingers move in and out, and then his teeth and tongue are roving over the back of my neck.

“Shit Rhys,” I gasp, and I can hear his breathing labour, too.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, Feyre,” he says. And I fucking wish he would but I can’t string the words together to tell him. Then he spanks me again as he curls his fingers inside me, and suddenly I’m right on the edge. “If I keep doing that will you come?” he asks me. My mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Shall I do it and find out?”

He hits me again and I feel it all the way up my spine. My head falls back against his shoulder and his lips move against my ear.

“Shall I count how many it takes?” My toes clench in my shoes. "How many are we up to now?" he muses. The next word is a growl. “Six.”

The slap lands across the low part of my ass, and all the while his other hand keeps moving between my legs. I cry out, and he kisses me gently on the side of my throat.

“Seven.”

The sharp of the pain bleeds into a heat that suffuses through to my belly, and the more I feel the more the world fades away, and it’s just him and me and the tightening spiral in my core.

“Eight.”

My breaths are short and shallow, and when my mouth opens again I’m barely making a sound. His fingers are speeding up, and my skin is getting raw, but I’m pushing my toes into the ground to arch up toward the next slap.

“Nine.”

This one stings so much my eyes are watering, and yet the sharper the feeling under his hand the stronger feeling between my legs, and I'm shivering, I’m clenching around his fingers as they move in and out of me.

“Ten-” And that’s the one. I’m coming hard, I’m crying and the sobs compete with the moans in my throat. I’m shaking so much Rhys has wrapped an arm around my middle to take some of my weight since I can’t put my feet flat on the ground, and it feels like he’s the only thing holding me together.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Rhys is mumbling, but I can barely hear him because I’m pretty sure I’m floating outside of my body somewhere near the ceiling.

I don’t know how long it takes me to come back down, but when I do Rhys is still holding me up and he’s pressing soft kisses over my neck and my ears. When I’m able to lift my head and look at him, he catches my mouth with his and licks my tongue and my teeth as he kisses me.

Eventually Rhys lets me go, slowly so as not to jar my shoulders, and my arms ache again when I’m holding my own weight. But it’s only for a second, because he steps round to face me and wraps my legs around his waist. He holds me up again and kisses me, lush and slow. Does it for so long that before I know it, I’m rolling my hips into him and the kiss gets dirtier, hungrier, toothier. I want to touch him so badly, to wrap my arms around his neck and get my fingers in his hair. To get him out of that gods-damned jumpsuit. All I can do is whine like a tied-up pet.

Fortunately, Rhys is as wound up as I am.

He lets go of me long enough to shove the front of his pants down, but he’s still got my weight because my ankles are crossed behind his back. He pulls himself out but then just rubs me with his fingers again, and it’s not what I want. I grip harder with my legs, trying to get his hips closer, and he seems to understand. Lines his cock up to my entrance and then gets his hands back on my ass and pushes me down on to himself.

“Christ Feyre…”

I share the sentiment. Rhys’s head drops down onto my shoulder as he sinks into me, all the way in. We just stay like that for a moment, breathing hard against each other, and then he’s pulling out and pushing back in. We both moan as he lands again, and he palms my breast under my ruined dress as he does it.

“Fuck you look good tied up like this,” he says.

He moves his hands back down so he can pull me onto himself by my ass.

“More,” I tell him on the exhale, and he snarls in reply and starts fucking me in earnest.

And as much as I’m frustrated that I can’t get my hands on him, the feeling of being at his mercy and letting him take exactly what he needs is strangely freeing. I have no thoughts toward what I should be doing because I can’t do anything, and all I have to do is take and feel and glory in the way that he moves.

Rhys shifts his hold so he’s got one arm cradling me, and with his free hand he grips the bar above my head. Now that he’s got more purchase, he’s pounding harder into me and I’m still helpless in his hold.

“I should keep you down here,” he says, but his words are slurring together. “Should bind you up so you can’t go anywhere, and I’ll fuck you just like this whenever I want…”

When he’s buried this deep inside me, I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea.

His hand slides down my spine and his fingers find the seam of my backside. I can feel the spread of his handprint holding me to him, and I can barely get a breath in when he's fucking me like this. He gets his mouth on mine and his kiss is as raw and obliterating as the sex.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come,” he says on my lips. I just tighten the grip of my legs and keep kissing him. “I want one more from you first,” he growls, but I shake my head and bite his lip. He starts to slow down but I keep moving my hips.

“Don’t you dare,” I grind out, and with a groan he picks up his pace again. He lets go of the bar and fists his fingers in my hair instead, and my breath catches as my head is pulled back.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please come, please I…”

Rhys lets out a snarl that rips through his teeth, and his hips snap forward so fast I can’t keep up. A bead of sweat runs cold between my breasts, I’m not sure if it’s from me or from him. His fingers dig into me and I only exist where he’s touching me, and then he’s roaring as he hits his climax and shudders hard into me.

I squeeze down on the bar under my hands as the waves of his pleasure rock through me, and I can’t breathe for how tightly he’s holding me. When he lets go of my hair I let my head fall onto his chest, and I can feel the beat of his heart under his tattoos. He kisses me, soft again, on the mouth and then with his tongue on my nipple and then in a line down my sternum. Gets on his knees, pulls my thighs over his shoulders so he’s still got my weight, and then kisses me right over my clit. I shiver, way too sensitive and tender from being fucked. He just chuckles and does it again.

“Rhys I can’t…”

He licks it this time and doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve still got his cum dripping out of me.

“I told you,” he says. “I want one more from you.”

And then he sucks my clit into his mouth and his tongue is relentless. He flicks it over and over me where I need it, and it only takes a few minutes before I’m coming again, my legs wrapped around his head and his hands curled around my thighs.

When I’ve finally stopped shaking, Rhys stands carefully and settles my legs around his hips again. He unties my hands, and my arms drop heavily around his neck. Completely boneless, I’m carried to a work bench and set down on it, before he finds a clean rag and gently wipes me off.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

I nod wearily, and give him a tired but true smile.

He gives me a spare jumpsuit to wear, since he’s ruined my dress, and then kisses my forehead.

“You were so, so good,” he murmurs. I just lean into him and let him hug me, while I breathe in the smell of grease and metal and Rhys. He lifts me again, and carries me to his car. Buckles me in, locks up the shop, and then holds my hand while he drives us home.

Hours later, after Rhys has put me in the shower and cooked me dinner and wrapped himself around me in his bed, he tells me.

“You can ask me, now,” he says. It takes me a moment, but I understand.

“How did it go?” I ask in the dark. He sighs.

“He’s dead.”

I turn around to face him, and he tangles our legs together. I hardly know what to say.

“Your dad died?”

“Yeah.”

I brush a curl from his forehead, and the words I’m sorry form in my mouth but I don’t know if they’d be right.

“Did you get to talk to him at all?”

“Sort of. He was pretty much gone by the time I got there, just pale and full of tubes. They said they were just keeping him breathing until I got there. So I said my goodbyes, and then he went.”’

“Did you get to tell him what you wanted to?”

Rhys shrugs. “I didn’t really plan what to say. The whole drive there I tried to, but I haven’t had anything to say to him in thirteen years. As much as I tried, I couldn’t come up with anything. Just figured… once I saw him, I might know. Or, he might say something, and then I’d have a response…”

“I’m sorry, Rhys.” I say it now, because I don’t know what else to say. The words never sound like enough, when someone is dead.

“I said, ‘You were a rotten father, and you couldn’t even stick around for me to tell it to you.’ Was that too harsh?”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “It sounds like it was true.”

“And then they gave me a letter.”

“A letter?”

“A note, really. And his will.”

“What did the note say?”

“It said, ‘My son. I’ll be of more use to you dead than I was alive, but I’m sure you thought that anyway.’ And in the will he left me everything.”

“What?”

“I don’t know much about how he lived his last few years but I know he came from money. And there’s a massive house that I’m going to sell. So my dad is dead and suddenly I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Rhys…”

“That’s a lot of conflicting things to feel, isn’t it?”

I bark a laugh. “It’s a few things.”

We lie in silence for a while, digesting the news. I think Rhys has been digesting all day.

“I’m buying the shop,” Rhys says. “For ma. And the others.”

“And here I thought I was going to buy it for you someday,” I tease.

“Well maybe I’ll give you the proceeds from the manor, in payment for my painting, and then you can buy the shop.” He gives me a sad smile, and I give him one back.

“And I’m going to get a house,” he says. “A real one, not a shit box. For me. And for you. If you’ll come with me. I know it's too soon, but it'll months from now anyway, maybe more..”

I put my hands on his face.

“I’d live with you in a shit box,” I say.

“You’ll never have to again,” he tells me, and then he kisses me so sweetly that I forgive him for keeping my underwear in his jumpsuit pocket.

****

The truth is, it didn't take me 2 months to write chapter 12 it took me this long to write this. It was in my head for so long and I just didn't have the juice to get it out, so I hope I did these babies justice. We're almost at the end, I just have to tell you the epilogue x

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #it is SO LONG #like the longest chapter ive ever written #for the longest fic ive ever written #i think i'm just delirious at this point

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