This story has a few references to abuse. If this makes you uncomfortable, I advise you don't read it.
ACOTAR and its characters belong to Sarah J Maas.
Feyre panted as Cassian barked more combos at her. One two. One one two. Get moving Feyre, two two one two. At it for an hour and still going strong, the two were training at their local gym.
Stopping for a water break, Feyre spied Rhys working with Azriel and Mor on the pull-up bars. No one knew where Amren trained, though she stayed in better shape than them all. Everyone present was coated with a sheen of sweat.
Back back back, Cassian barked, forcing her out of her wonderings and back into the present. Cass had been her trainer of sorts for the past three years, self appointing himself after he found out about her abusive past relationship.
And train her he did. Two times a week, every week, for an hour. It was one of her favorite times. The sweat dribbling down her body, the soreness of her muscles, the feeling of absolute exhilaration and exhaustion.
It didn't hurt that Rhys was also there most of the time, either wearing a muscle tee or no shirt at all.
"Quit oggling your fiancé," Cassian said with a face, cringing.
"Oh, shush," she smirked back, "It's not as if you don't spend a good chunck of your time gazing at Nesta's ass."
It wouldn't be noticeable to most, but under the sweat Cass' face bloomed a bright red.
"Thought so."
He simply shook his head, muttering Archerons. They went back with a renewed intensity. Punch, punch, kick, duck, you would have been dead by now, uppercut, come on Archeron, is that an uppercut?
Time flew as the two danced around each other, kicking and punching, irritating each other. Whenever the two sparred, Cass made it a point to get Feyre to the ground. It had started to get harder and harder, but Feyre had been training for a mere three years compared to Cass' twenty.
BOOM! Feyre was lying on the ground, groaning, as Cassian stood above her.
"I think I win," he smirked, extending a hand to help her up. Feyre accepted it with gratitude, grabbing her water bottle on the way out of the cage.
Feyre walked over to Rhys with Cassian, squeezing the last of the liquid out of the bottle and into her mouth. She snorted at Mor's lighthearted complaining before reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss Rhys on the mouth.
"I'm helping Alis set up the art studio at Prythian," she said quietly as their friends got back to their workout. Rhys smiled.
"Be back by seven, okay?" He grinned, kissing her nose. "Because I have a surprise for youuuuuuuu." Feyre laughed at the childishness in his voice.
"I'll be back by one," she told him. "It gives me a lot of time to do other things," she said teasingly. Feyre pecked his cheek before he could react.
As she headed back to the locker rooms, and showers, she noticed a commotion in Lucien's office. She stalled, but Lucien, red hair tied back, glanced at at her and motioned for her to go on. A bit more urgently than made sense. Before she could act on it, Lucien was shoved out of the way, and a man walked out. He walked out.
Tamlin was standing in front of her as if nothing had happened.
Rhys was tensed in a moment, but he stopped himself from walking over and punching Tamlin in the face. He looked to Feyre, who silently told him to back off. She could handle this. She was strong. He couldn't hurt her. Her name was -
"Feyre," he said calmly, glancing with thinly veiled disgust at her companions. "It's been too long."
Feyre's heart started to race as he walked toward her. Her mouth started to dry up at the memories, the look on his face, the words -
"You're violating your parole coming this close to me." Cool, civil - betraying none of the emotions that threatened to break out of her any minute.
Tamlin's neck tensed, and he stalled for a moment. But he still seemed very set on his goal. On her.
"It is very legal for me to call the cops on you." And kick you in the balls, she thought. Tamlin kept walking towards her.
"But you won't," he said presumptuously. Feyre tensed, jaw locking.
"Do you want to test me on that?" she asked, perfectly serious. Tamlin shifted a little under her stone cold gaze.
"I just want to talk," he said, scratching his neck.
"Leave me alone," Feyre snapped. She turned to leave, but Tamlin grabbed her wrist, making her stay. She froze. She could feel that same grip on her wrist, but she wasn't at the gym. No, she was at home - not home, no - trying to stay out of a monstrous drunken rage and -
"Let go of me," she growled.
She should have said that then, but she just let him hit her as she cowered in the shadows, coward, coward -
"This has all been a misunderstanding," he said, trying to pacify her. Trying to control her, as he always had, even if he didn't realize it.
"Let. Go. Of. Me," she said with more force.
"We can get through this. You don't belong with that whore, yo-" Feyre's fist flew through the air, connecting with his nose with more force than she thought possible. He dared insult Rhys? Her body had strengthened since she had last seen him, and he'd be damned if he didn't know it.
"Misunderstand that," she snarled, sneering as Tamlin reeled, clutching his now bleeding nose. "Mistake, my ass. The only mistake ever in that relationship was the fact that it existed in the first place." Feyre stalked off the gym floor, slamming the door to the locker rooms behind her.
She made it halfway to the row of lockers hers was in before sinking to the ground, clutching her knees to her chest and trying not to cry.
A/N:
Hey guys! Whaddoya think?
This was originally supposed to be a chapter in Love the Stars, but it's too angry to fit the fluffy theme of LtS. Anywho, I'm currently clearing out my works in progress folder, so I'm probably going to be posting more often.
When I was writing this one I had a really bad stomach bug and was angry with the world. Fun times.
Random Fact: I recently cleaned out my bookshelves. We donated around forty books and the remaining still don't all fit.
*hugs*
~franklyherondale