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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Send out an army to find you

request: can i please request a lorcan x reader where maeve kidnaps reader who is pregnant. She wants lorcans child because he left her service snd she wants someone sith his powers so she tries to keep reader until she gives birth but she is saved by him.

warnings: blood, implications of death, capture, pregnancy. The good stuff.

In other words your girl got carried away....

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Lorcan felt as if the ground had cracked beneath his feet. He fell as if he was freefalling as if he knew that the only fate that awaited him was painful death. He sensed the panic through the bond while he and the rest of the cadre had been training in the woods. The sheer amount of it had made Lorcan's knees buckle. And then he ran. He ran like he had never run before. Body moving on its own, fully trusting his instincts. He didn't care that the house might be crawling with whatever creatures had managed to get inside. The sight of the door barely hanging on its hinges was enough to make bile rise in his throat, yet he strode inside.

"Y/N", he called, going from room to room. There was broken glass everywhere, the chairs in the dining room were broken to pieces, and the utensil drawer was open. All Lorcan could smell was panic. Pain. Fear. His heart was beating so fast, he could feel it all over his body. "Y/N", he shrieked once more. He smelled you still. And that could mean two things: either he was just a heartbeat too late, or you were still here. He prayed for the second. But when Lorcan darted upstairs to see handprints of blood all over the nursery, everything around him froze for a second. The worst fears dance freely in his mind. He didn't even realize when he had started roaring. Or when all of the darkness possessed by him manifested. Drowning out all the light, making all the greenery wilt.

Lorcan felt firm hands holding onto him, trying to pick up the mess. "Let go of me", the male roared. But that wish wasn't granted to him as other sets of hands gripped his face. "I'm going to kill...", Lorcan stated. "Who will you kill? Who, Lorcan?", it was Gavriel who stood right in front of him. Paler than before. Worry laced his features as well. "You need to think", Fenrys added from the side of him, making Lorcan grit his teeth as he spat, "I'm thinking! She's gone, she's...and the baby, that's...", Lorcan felt another wave of panic rush through him. Fear when he realized that he couldn't hold onto the bond that connected you both.

"Breathe", it was Rowan, whose cold wind twirled around Lorcan now, the male trashed in the grip of his friends. "No, you don't...", Lorcan's voice broke. "Breath, Lorcan", Rowan said softly again. Lorcan knew that Rowan, of all the males, knew how painful this felt. He had lost his pregnant partner. They had all watched him fight the demons that clouded his will to live after that. Lorcan sank to his knees, ripping at his chest in hopes of feeling at least any sense of warmth from your side.

The cadre had never seen Lorcan like this. Sure, you had cracked the deepest parts of the male. You had made his presence a lot more bearable. Maker, he smiled even. Smiled from his heart during the family dinner. His prickly side was pushed aside almost fully. Saved only for scaring people away and inflicting panic on the enemy. You were his everything, and to miss that would have been impossible. Rowan clasped Lorcan's shoulders. Yet no one dared to say a single word about what this could truly mean.

You slowly drifted back to consciousness. Frowning slightly once the unfamiliar surroundings began to emerge. Your hand immediately went to your bump as you looked around the stone cell. The sound of the metal shackles made you look down; your hands and ankles were chained. You instantly tried to pull on your mating bond. To call for Lorcan... But a pained cry left your mouth as you found it lifeless. No, you thought to yourself, they wouldn't have managed to kill Lorcan.

"Oh, how lovely to see you awake", the voice dripped venom, and your wild eyes looked at the queen you hoped you'd never have to see again. "What did you do?", You moved to sit up slowly. "I just wanted to see you. You have someone I want", the way she whispered made your body shiver. "What did you do to Lorcan, Maeve", you hissed, hands wrapped around your bump. The motherly instinct was on high alert. The queen smirked, "He used to be my best. You do know what an attentive lover in bed Lorcan was to me". You shook your head. You knew how she treated them all. How she played with them. She twisted her powers to make puppets out of them. Lorcan had never loved her. He had never cared for her.

"It was so hard for me to do this to him", Maeve purred. The panic swirled within you. She wouldn't; you told yourself, she wouldn't have. "I'll make sure the wound of losing him will heal", her voice pierced right through you. "No," you breathed out, "He's not dead. You're lying, bitch". The sympathetic look on her face made you sick. "No, what did you do? What did you do?", you launched forward, chains ringing as you pulled at them. "Now, now... You can't be doing all that. You're pregnant", the queen stepped forward. Her cold hand moved to touch the round swell forming. You tried to move your hands so you could claw at her face, but her magic kept you at bay. "The babe growing within you is like no other, dear", she said, slowly sweeping your tangled hair away from your face. Silent tears that rolled down your cheeks were the only indication of your real emotions that bubbled within. "I'll raise a one-of-a-kind worrier out of that, babe", her nails dug into your face, "You took Lorcan away from me; now your debts will be paid." You tried to scream, but she seized your consciousness, sending you into the dark, oblivious.

Every moment that passed was a moment too long for Lorcan. A heartbeat was wasted. He still didn't know if you were alive. He hoped for it. You had to. Rowan had explained the power that Maeve had when it came to twisting bonds between mates. Maeve. To think that his beautiful, sweet, pregnant wife was in the hands of that sadist. Lorcan knew that you could stand your ground, but he knew that Maeve would not hold back.

He let Gavriel and Rowan plot the plan. His brain was everywhere at the moment. Lorcan clutched the baby blanket you had knitted in his hand. He had been holding onto it for the past two weeks. Only managing to slip into restless sleep if the scent of you was close. "Do you agree, Lorcan?", Gavriel's voice made Lorcan stiffen. But the lion knew that he wasn't listening. "Let us handle Maeve. I know that you want to kill her", Gavriel's voice was calm, but Lorcan let out a bitter laugh, "Want? Want doesn't even come close to it". The lion nodded. "I know, we know, but it's best if you find Y/N in the castle and get the hell away from it". As sweet as revenge tasted, Lorcan knew that this plan was the only one. Because even he didn't trust himself to not get carried away.

You had no way to tell how many days had passed. You had tried to refuse all food and water, but your baby needed it. And as much as you had no will to carry on, the little kicks and squirms within you were the only things making you feel anything other than the void that painted your chest black. You were curled into a ball at the furthest corner of the cell. Holding onto your bump as you hummed slightly.

You hoped the rest of the family would come looking for you. You hoped that this void was just one of many twisted things that Maeve loved. But at this moment, you knew that it was only you. Only you could protect your unborn child from that sadist. She had told you all about it. How the baby would be hers. How she would take it under her wing and raise it as if it was her baby. You gritted your teeth.

The cell door cracked open. You stilled, gripping the metal plate you had filed against the stones, turning it into a somewhat makeshift weapon. You doubted it would be enough to kill her. But you were prepared to try anything by now. You counted the steps, bracing yourself for the blow.

Your hit, however, was met by a strong grip. You were ready to swing one more time as the warmth flooded your heart. "Y/N", you had never loved the sound of your name more than now. Your eyes met the familiar dark orbs. A breath hitched in your throat. Lorcan was standing right in front of you. Your mate was standing right in front of you. You couldn't help but let out a cry.

Lorcan's strong arms wrapped around you instantly. He wasn't expecting to find you here. He was about to turn around when his ears caught on to that familiar heartbeat. Your baby's heartbeat. Steady and strong. And so he leaped down the stairs into the dungeon. Only to find you in this damp, forgotten place.

"Look at me, does anything hurt?", his voice was sharp and calculated. Lorcan looked over your face at the scab on your cheek, yet you shook your head. "She told me...", you muttered. "Listen to me. Is the baby okay? You're feeling okay?", he was close to shaking; you had been dead in his mind for weeks now. He had mentally prepared to find your lifeless body. "Lorcan...", you choked out, sinking into his arms.

"I've got you, dove. I'll take you home. I will never let anyone take you or our baby away from me", he wasn't sure at this point if he was saying this to soothe you or himself more. You barely nodded as Lorcan leaned to scoop you up into his arms. You heard him mutter something else, something about staying awake, but your body was too tired. Your mind was too fried from all the lies that Maeve had told you. So you let yourself drift away.

The crackling sound of the fire woke you up. The room was dim, but in a comfortable way. It was warm, and it smelled of freshly made food. You blinked a couple of times. Your gaze followed the pressure on your thigh. A messy set of black hair met you. Lorcan was holding your hand, his head resting on your thigh as he slept, his free palm resting on your round stomach. You doubted the position was comfortable, and his shoulders, without doubt, would kill him once he woke up.

You reached down to brush his hair away from his face. You smothered the lively bond in your chest. Soaking in the warmth of it. "You have no idea how nice it is to feel you through the bond", Lorcan's voice was groggy, his eyes still closed. You gave him a sad smile, "I'm afraid I do... She told me that she killed you", you muttered. Lorcan rose slowly. His face looked grim. There was a sign of anger still there.

"I'm going to take my time when I...", Lorcan growled but you quickly clasped his hand, "Lorcan... promise me you won't go after her alone", you pleaded. You could tell that he wanted to argue back but his shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. "How are feeling? The healer looked you over but... You can...", he broke out into yet another rant, and you reached out to him, cupping his cheek, "I'm okay, we're okay. Happy to have daddy back with us", you muttered, feeling your eyes filling up with tears.

Lorcan leaned into your touch before he clasped your hand in his, kissing it a couple of times. "I would raise armies for you and fight gods if I had to", he said, and you knew he meant all of it as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. "And I will always find you, both of you. I'll look till my very last breath", Lorcan's voice was barely a whisper as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I know, my love, I'd fight for our family with bare hands if I had to", you muttered, leaning into your mate so you could kiss him lovingly.

#lorcan imagine #lorcan x reader #lorcan x you #lorcan tog imagine #lorcan tog x reader #lorcan salvaterre imagine #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre #tog imagine #tog x you #tog x reader #the cadre imagine #the cadre x reader #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #gavriel

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shadowdaddies · 5 months

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My heads empty except for thoughts of Lorcan with a size kink, if you could please right somthing with this,🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

yep I think it's canon our 7 ft tall axe-slingin' Lorcan has size kink👀

So Lorcan Did

Lorcan x Reader smut

warnings: smut below the cut, this is just pwp, size kink, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, maybe breeding kink if you squint

You fumbled for the doorknob, twisting it open as you stumbled backwards through the doorway into your room. Lorcan spun you around, your body pressed tightly between his and the door. You craned your neck - the extent to which you had to bend just to look him in the eyes almost painful - as his massive form towered over you.

Large hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as Lorcan pinned you against the wall. It was dizzying, being lifted so high, his hard body enveloping yours as he gripped your hair, tilting your head back to grant himself access to mark your neck.

You gasped, small moans escaping you while you writhed against his firm grip as he held you in place. “Fuck, Lorcan, please touch me,” you begged, your dress suddenly like fire against your skin, begging to be extinguished. He pulled back, black eyes taking in your flushed state.

With a dark chuckle, Lorcan tossed you onto the bed as though you were light as a pillow. The mattress was huge, as though you were swimming in a vast sea - until Lorcan stripped off his shirt and crawled over you. His massive form swallowed the space, suddenly making the bed feel so small as his body well more than covered yours.

Propped up on your elbows, you watched as Lorcan toyed with the hem of your dress, looking up to see him watching you with a smirk. “Let’s take this off, love,” he murmured - you eagerly shifting to help him remove any layers separating the two of you. He took in the sight of your bare breasts, a slight groan escaping him as one hand moved to toy with your nipple, his palm covering your breast and more as he tweaked the sensitive nub.

Gasping, you arched into his touch as you babbled unintelligible requests for more. Switching hands, Lorcan toyed with your other nipple as he brought his mouth down to soothe the bud he’d been teasing. You moaned instinctively, hands moving down to thread in Lorcan’s long black hair.

He pulled away, warm breath fanning over your wet chest as he smirked, tsk’ing as he shook his head. “Hands to yourself until I say otherwise, love,” he whispered, easily grabbing both of your hands in one of his as he pinned them above your head. “Keep those there,” he mumbled against your skin as he continued his path down your stomach.

Lorcan settled above the fabric of your panties, inhaling the strong scent of your arousal as his hand splayed just above the line of fabric that spanned your hips. Your legs clenched as you felt his hand cover your entire stomach, a lewd moan escaping your lips as you looked down, sight confirming what you felt. Lorcan was so much larger than any male you had been with - or even known, for that matter, and you were burning with anticipation.

Slowly dragging your silky panties down your legs, Lorcan paused to admire the wetness that had pooled on the fabric, dark eyes watching you as he licked away the juices. You mewled, toes curling at the sight as you shamelessly begged for Lorcan to move faster. “Oh love, this is as fast as I can go. You’ll need plenty of time to warm up and be stretched out before you can take me.”

With that, Lorcan moved to lick your clit, sucking on the bud as he inserted one finger into you. “Fuck, Lorcan,” you moaned, his one finger making you feel so full already. You started to stress, unsure if you would be able to take him. As if he sensed your nerves, Lorcan pressed a kiss to each of your hips. “It’s okay, love. If you feel any pain, just tell me and we’ll stop.”

You nodded, feeling assured as you encouraged him to continue. Lorcan worked you a little bit longer, curling that one finger against your walls in a way that drew obscene sounds from your dripping pussy. He licked your clit furiously, distracting you as he added another finger. The stretch was glorious, back bowing off the mattress as your mind reeled, already reaching your high. “Let it go, love,” Lorcan spoke against your clit, the vibrations setting you off into an explosive orgasm.

You hadn’t even caught your breath when you felt Lorcan add a third finger, using the fresh wetness from your orgasm to pump into you more easily. The slight burn as he worked you added to your pleasure, tossing your head back and forth on the mattress as you clumsily pushed his head away from your swollen clit. Lorcan chuckled at your movements, pressing a kiss to the bud before removing his fingers, licking them clean as he untied his pants with his other hand.

Your heart pounded as you dared to look at his hard cock, slapping against his stomach as he carefully watched your expression. “One word. If you’re uncomfortable, we stop,” he promised. You nodded, biting your lip as your legs hooked around his waist, drawing him closer to you. Sliding his cock up and down your folds, Lorcan collected as much lubrication as he could before sliding slowly into you.

By the time he bottomed out, you were struggling to breathe - you had never felt so full. Your pussy clenched around him in reaction, and Lorcan hissed at the feeling. “Fuck, angel, if you keep doing that, I won’t last long.” Inwardly, you thought that might be for the best, as you weren’t sure how long you could take him. With a nod of encouragement from you, Lorcan began moving in and out at a gentle pace. He looked down at your body, a loud moan escaping his lips as he watched his thrusts.

You managed to sit up just enough to see the outline of his cock as he entered you - how incredibly full of him you were. You let out a string of curses as Lorcan picked up his pace, his hand sprawled along the place on your stomach it had been earlier, this time forcing you to feel everything. “Gods, you’re so tight,” Lorcan whispered, watching your center tighten around him as his thrusts became more frenzied.

Lorcan licked his thumb, bringing it down to your clit as he rubbed circles, the stimulation sending you over the edge just as you felt his cock twitch inside you, warm release coating your walls as you came together. Lorcan drew out of you slowly, catching his cum before it spilled onto the sheets and shoving it back inside your core. “Clench that tight pussy for me, love. Don’t let this spill.”

You moaned a half-conscious agreement, still in a post-orgasmic haze as Lorcan settled next to you in bed. He pulled your body close to his, and you realized he had officially ruined all other males for you.

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

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Could I please make a request for 'Cadre part2' maybe some hurt/comfort were reader and Lorcan get into another fight and he says something that hurts the reader, so reader decides to ignore everyone the Cadre until he gives them a proper apology.

Not on Speaking Terms

Cadre x reader

A/n: please accept this peace offering until I’m in a smutty mood again. I’m so sorry for the wait on part 2, I genuinely feel bad bc you guys have been asking for more so I decided to get this one done tn ❤️❤️

Warnings: hurt/comfort poly relationship, and Lorcan being a dick

“I can’t with this right now Lorcan.” You growl out, stomping down the hall to your bedroom. “Yes, we’re doing this now!” His booming voice catching up with you as he jogged to catch up with you. “You’re being selfish and you aren’t listening to me.”

That made you stop dead in your tracks. He saw your shoulders stiffen as your back straightened. You quickly turned on your heel to face him with rage simmering in your eyes. “You did not just say that to me.” You growled.

After that exciting night in the war tent with the boys you all realized there was something more than sexual attraction. You truly love all of them and they love you. When you woke up in the middle of the night you found you had been moved to the bigger bed. You were still on Gavriel’s chest. As you blinked the tiredness from your eyes you found the rest of the males asleep next to you.

At breakfast the next morning Fenrys had shamelessly brought up the subject, wanting to clear the awkwardness from the group. The White Wolf winked at you as the conversation started. Since that morning you officially started dating Rowan, Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan.

It was tough to make sure you spent an equal amount of time with each of them at first. They all tended to be jealous and territorial. Especially Lorcan. You knew he and Rowan had a history of having the same partner, but he wasn’t used to this. You and Lorcan got into little spats here and there when he wouldn’t listen to you or give you space when you needed it. Lorcan loves you so much and just wants to make you happy. He just has trouble with his emotions sometimes.

During training g this morning you and Lorcan got into one of those slats that somehow escalated when you were trying to explain to him why you aren’t doing anything with any of the boys today. The fact that Lorcan is calling you selfish while you continuously put off plans to be with him when he felt neglected is insane.

“Stay away from me.” You said before turning away to hurry to your room. You didn’t see Lorcan’s hurt expression from your harsh command. He didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But if you wanted space Lorcan would let you have it.

You locked yourself in your own bedroom for the rest of the day. You didn’t even come out for dinner. A little after seven there was a knock on your door. “Y/n,” Fenrys calls out. You didn’t want to hear it. “Go away Fen!” Your tone left no room for argument. He sighed and shuffled away.

Rowan, who can always talk to you was shut out next. Even Gavriel. The most level headed one was turned away. But he wouldn’t give up. Gavriel came back to your room on the morning asking what happened. You whip the door open to find him with his arms crossed, an exasperated look on that gorgeous face. His tawny eyes sparkled with mischief. His face quickly fell when he noticed your puffy eyes and red cheeks.

“What?” Your voice monotone. Gavriel clears his throat trying to not let your attitude throw him off. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. Lorcan didn’t give us the full story and I want to help you two-“ “No.” you cut him off. You knew where this was going. Gavriel wanted to help you two come to a compromise so you could fix whatever has happened between you. Not this time.

“That’s not how it’s going to work this time. Until Lorcan can be a big boy and have a conversation with me himself I’m not speaking to any of you. The male is 400 years old.” You slam the door in Gavriel’s face so hard his hair flys back.

Lorcan feels guilty. He really does, but he hates admitting he’s wrong. Gavriel and Rowan told him he’s on his own and that you were right, he needs to start fixing problems with you on his own or Lorcan wouldn’t have you any more.

It took all day for Lorcan to rehearse what he is going to say to you. Fenrys laughed when he caught Lorcan talking to himself in the mirror. But the pup did give good advice, “Go with what your heart tells you. Not what you can come up with in your mind, it isn’t authentic.” When the hell did Fenrys get so wise, he thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Lorcan collects himself and lightly knocks on your door. “Who is it?” You call out. “It’s me, can I come in sweetheart.” He hears you groan along with the blankets shuffling as you roll over. Lorcan contained his annoyance and entered your room. You let out another loud groan and pull the blankets over your head. Lorcan makes his way over to the bed. When he sits the mattress dips a noticeably amount thanks to his large body.

“Can we talk?” He asks softly, resting a hand on your calf. “Fine.” You sit up letting the blankets fall off leaving your hair a frizzy mess. Lorcan huffs out a quiet laugh, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he reaches out to smooth out your hair. “I’m sorry I called you selfish. I was just…I didn’t understand that you needed space.”

“It’s not just my space. I just wanted you to understand that I give up a lot when you ask for me. I love you Lorcan, and I don’t want us to keep having these fights.” Lorcan cups your face and you lean into his touch. “I promise I’ll work on it. I love you sweetheart.” He leans forward kissing your forehead. “Goodnight, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

He stands ruffling your already messy hair a little. You grab his hand and pull Lorcan back to your bed. “Wait. I’ve been alone too long and I miss you guys. Can we all sleep together?” Lorcan gave you the biggest smile you’d ever seen from him. He quickly scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You giggle as he runs down the hall to your shared room with the boys.

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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welcome!

about me: you can call me emily! i'm 25 and have written in the past but just started again. i have a master's in literature and love fantasy and romance books.

requests: i am currently not taking requests!

taglists: instead of doing taglists, i have the following account you can turn notifications on for: @assassinslibrary. i will only ever reblog new stories here so you can get a notification when posted!

masterlists:

azriel eris

#will add to this as i post more lol #ignore this unless new to my page or if you want to know more!!#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #tog fic #rowan x reader #lorcan x reader #dorian x reader #gwynriel #feysand #nessian #elucian #rowaelin #elorcan

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aprill-99 · 3 months

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Fenrys: “Has anyone seen Lorcan? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Elide: “Hang on, I’ve got this.”

Elide: “ELIDE LOCHAN ISN’T THAT GREAT!!!”

Lorcan: *appears, death magic ready* “Whoever said that is going to die.”

Elide: “Found him.”

Aelin: *already on fire* “Who the fuck said that???”

Aedion: *behind Aelin with the entire Bane* “Someone wants to fucking die today?!?”

Elide: “No, I was just-”

Manon: *drops from the sky, entire coven in tow* “Witches, today we kill someone who really and truly deserves it.”

Elide: *to Fenrys* “I may have made a mistake…”

#incorrect quotes #incorrect ToG #incorrect throne of glass quotes #i can see it #fenrys moonbeam #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #manon blackbeak #aelin ashryver galathynius #aedion ashryver #Elide is literally number one to the entire court and you can’t convince me I’m wrong

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again.

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back, staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well.

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much.

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy.

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining.

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life.

Good. He could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then.

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness.

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero.

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women.

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too. Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable.

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at.

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail.

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough.

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him.

Aelin.

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him.

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon.

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused.

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football.

“No,” was his quick response.

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach.

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.”

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement.

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond.

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug.

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find.

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first.

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow.

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow.

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him.

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap.

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?”

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.”

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first.

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man.

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden.

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked.

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker.

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head.

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead.

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other.

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position.

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving.

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams.

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch.

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan.

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight.

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher.

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body.

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street.

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out.

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too.

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded.

Win your game tomorrow.

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him.

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets.

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door.

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn��t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking.

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed.

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.”

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor.

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week.

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face. Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose.

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling.

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?”

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes.

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips.

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired.

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

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haveihitanerve · 3 months

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when the tension between two characters has been building for books and you could cut it with a knife but its her first time and hes a brute who's gentle for her and then all you get is

'so lorcan did'

#wtf sjm #i was waiting #on the edge of my seat #and their kiss was so pretty and tentive #and then you just leave it with #'so lorcan did'#WHAT #WHAT DID HE DO #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan #elide x lorcan #elorcan #throne of glass

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wordsafterhours · 7 months

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Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

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Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes.

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian.

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware.

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.”

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy.

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas.

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories.

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no.

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it.

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast.

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s.

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was.

“Who else is here?”

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.”

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left.

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft.

He shouldn’t be.

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.”

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence.

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day.

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations.

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound.

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes.

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.”

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly.

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed.

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him.

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was.

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire.

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up.

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe.

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.”

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this.

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.”

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely.

“Aelin, stop.”

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.”

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you.

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.”

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head.

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together.

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue.

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time.

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.”

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback.

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.”

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos.

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off.

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?”

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly.

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.”

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?”

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled.

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.”

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.”

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.”

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought.

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing.

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere.

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect.

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them.

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed.

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity. Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch.

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.”

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.”

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?”

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer.

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.”

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her.

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it.

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone.

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing.

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.”

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly.

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship.

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct.

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.”

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again.

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.”

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air.

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain.

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear.

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.”

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now.

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. “It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world.

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.”

“Very fitting.”

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top.

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself.

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable.

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard.

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree.

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free.

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome.

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together.

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down.

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh.

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall.

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn.

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table.

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips.

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.”

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened.

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered.

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.”

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.”

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty.

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands.

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.”

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan. Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress.

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light.

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute.

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.”

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.”

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold.

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor.

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.”

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.”

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise.

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue.

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme.

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms.

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft.

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air.

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them.

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention.

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.”

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Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off.

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench.

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation.

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her.

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves.

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving.

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain.

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up.

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek.

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core. Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash.

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm.

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.”

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

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Tag list:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

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lorcandidlucienwill · 7 months

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"Bigger tits won't prove or hide anything" "I wanted to go to Perranth with you"

Lmao I've been spamming ACOTAR posts so here's a TOG post. Lorcan Salvaterre everybody. Love this guy. Also girlies, Lorcan said it. Body type doesn't matter. Love yourself.

#lorcan salvaterre #lord lorcan lochan #elide x lorcan #elorcan #endgame is when they want to go to perranth with you

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hlizr50 · 9 months

Text

Today we have the final two chapters of the terrible pain I wrote for @elorcanweekofficial

But today we shall be healed!

Read Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 (NSFW)

Here's a snippet to tempt you:

“Would you stay?” She had wanted to sound so much stronger and surer than the rasp that fell from her lips. Elide licked at them, her throat suddenly parched. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? How did one ask for a touch that had terrified her for so long?

But Lorcan knew Elide. He’d grown accustomed to what it meant when she chewed on her lower lip and her eyes fell to the ground and her cheeks grew rosy. Elide was strong and cunning and clever. She knew what she wanted and needed often enough. And the man who stared down at her now, with eyes that were somehow impossibly darker than they had been a moment ago, could read her uncertainty like a map; it led him to the right conclusions.

“What do you need?” The question was not a command, the gravel in his voice not a growl. Her body thrummed with the building need within her, his words sinking into her blood and making it sing.

“I want—“ she began. Then she took a breath. This was Lorcan, the towering male who had played her husband at her insistence. And this was her, the one who had glared up at him without flinching and without fear, from nearly the very first moment.

She would not flinch now. Not when ecstasy was waiting for them.

“I need ,” she corrected, “you to touch me.” Elide dared not look away from his face, her thoughts turning over and over as it tried to interpret the change in his expression. This time it was he who licked his lips, and she wondered if perhaps he was just as desperate as she.

Tag List: @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @mystical-blaise @daevastanner @climb-the-mountian @thecrispypotatochip @mercarimari @sunshinebingo @freyjas-musings @shadowsxgwynriel @thelovelymadone

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

Note

sneaky linking with lorcan, but they have to keep it a secret so seeing him with other girls makes resder jealous👀

I started KoA and God save my soul... these males have a chokehold on me. I'll never be the same.

This side of me

Your head fell back as you chased the last bits of your orgasm. Rocking your hips while straddling Lorcan. His big rough palms squeezed your ass as he too growled. He was rarely audible in the bedroom. The first couple of months all you heard was yourself crying out in pleasure. If you were lucky one two praises from Lorcan but that's pretty much where it would end. Now more often than not he allowed himself to fully enjoy whatever that you two had going on.

The relationship was messy. If you could even call it a relationship. Your two had been at each other's throats before you had even joined the cadre. Shit only went worse when you did. Lorcan had a big ego. That meant that losing in training to you was as equivalent to someone pulling his pants off and laughed at him. Maybe even worse. He never wanted to listen. There was one way - his way that things could go. And while boys most of the time just let him go, you called him out on his bullshit.

That's when the tension thickened. Soon you two were practically snarling at one another, thangs out. Knifes pointed. "I bet on my monthly pay, they'll be fucking before the first snow falls", Fenrys chuckled, followed by the two men who stood beside him. "I double that and say that Lorcan will bite her first", Rowan added, a smug smile on his face as he drank water from his pouch. "Our princess will slip up first", Gavriel chuckled.

Just their gossiping was cut short as dagger penetrated the wall they stood against and they found your attention turned to them now, snarling Lorcan long forgotten. "I'll eat your flesh for tomorrow's supper", you threatened them. You knew your words didn't scare him. If anything your reaction fueled the fire but maker were you frustrated? "Hormonal much?", Fenrys chirped but you quickly moved to run towards him, making the white wolf let out a shriek as he took off himself. Gavriel and Rowan laughing even louder now.

"Fuck", Lorcan growled as your hips stilled, way smaller body collapsing on his chest. This was against the rules but he moved to wrap an arm around your naked frame. "So much for a secret when you scream so much", he teased, making you pinch the skin on his side, "As if you weren't roaring yourself", you quickly turned your head to the side, "Do I even have window still". Lorcan rolled his eyes but let himself close his eyes, taking in a couple of steady breaths. He had told himself that he was never going to fall in love. Relationships weren't his thing... but there was a but now. He simply couldn't ignore the weight of your body in his arms. And as much as he wanted to lie about it, his arms felt empty throughout the day when you weren't in his embrace.

You were sat by the side table at the tavern you all had stopped mid-task. Lorcan had been on the next round of drink duty but for the past ten minutes, you had been watching him in a sea of females who had surrendered him by now. "What did this poor table do to you?", Fenry's voice pierced your head making you blink a couple of times as you looked down. Your claws were in full display. Leaving sharp deep lines on the surface.

A tinge of jealousy ran through you. Sure, he owed you nothing. You two messed around for most time but... "You know that he is an attention whore. This means nothing", Gavriel said softly but you only scoffed, "Why would I care? He can fuck them all if he wants". You stood up quickly. You thought about just going up there and ordering everybody a new drink but midway towards the bar you halted and moved towards the door. You needed to clear your head. You needed fresh air. This place. Lorcan. Everything was slowly suffocating you.

"Where are you going?", the voice made you stop, "Our room isn't even towards that side", it continued. You turned around quickly, "Oh, sorry. Thought you wanted to bring a handful of bitches with you", you sassed. Lorcan smirked, "You're jealous, huh", he purred. You narrowed your eyes at him, "Fuck yourself. I might just find someone for myself too", you spat.

But before you could take another step, Lorcan was in front of you, hand around you through. Just so he would keep your eyes on him, "No one is touching you", he growled. "Hypocrite. You just had...", you started but Lorcan tightened his grip on your throat, "No one else gets to see sides of me that you do", he said through gritted teeth, "Now get your cute ass back inside, before I slither the whole taverna", his finger moved over your lip and before he could say anything world you leaped forward. Crashing your lips onto his.

#lorcan salvaterre imagine #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan imagine #lorcan x reader #lorcan x you #tog imagine #tog x reader #tog x you #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #the cadre #rowan whitethorn #gavriel #fenrys moonbeam

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shadowdaddies · 2 months

Note

I loved your headcannons on the Mass men taking care of reader while sick! I read them while recovering from surgery.

May I humbly request one with Lorcan? He's my favorite.

Thank you, love! I'm wishing you a speedy recovery💜

A/N: I can't believe I didn't include Lorcan in the other HCs, he's canonically one of the most caring SJM partners (source: cutting up his shirt, which lives in my head rent free)

Lorcan Taking Care of You When You're Sick: Headcanons

• Lorcan would be so attentive to your needs, he would know when something is wrong before you do

• By the time you feel the slightest bit of pain or discomfort, he’s already there with medicine and warm tea

• He wouldn’t let you lift a finger, piling the softest blankets over you in bed

• But you’d complain that you’re still cold, and he’d get the hint… he’d give you his shirt for some extra warmth, getting under the covers with you for even more comfort

• Like I said earlier, you wouldn’t lift a finger. Lucky for you that Lorcan is 7 ft tall and can easily carry you everywhere

• He’s undressing you, washing your hair for you in the bath, wrapping you in a fluffy robe to hold you by the fire

• Lorcan knows your favorite foods, and goes a little overboard making everything you could possibly want, insisting it’s important that you stay fed and hydrated

• He knows how much you love to read, but doesn’t want you to strain your eyes so he’ll read to you, your head on his toned chest until you drift off to sleep

• Essentially, Lorcan is the male that will make sure you have everything you need and more. He’s the perfect balance of not being overbearing while providing for you

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Text

Bite Me

Lorcan x f!Reader

A/n: here’s that Lorcan smut I was talkin about, enjoy! Also my requests are still open

Warnings: smut and biting

You cling to Lorcan as he pounds into your cunt. You absolutely loved being under him like this. Completely at the mercy of his strong, large figure.

“Gods Lorcan,” you moan, throwing your head back, arching your back, “you feel so good, so so fucking good!” Lorcan growls, picking up the speed of his pace. You grip at his biceps digging your nails into his tan skin. Your favorite thing to do during sex is leave your mark on him.

Knowing that you left him with bright red scratches down his back and arms under his shirt made you even more feral for him the day after. But this tonight leaving your claw marks isn’t enough for you. No, you want to sink your teeth into him. Leave hickeys along his neck while he’s still above you and his strong thighs while you’re on your knees for him.

Lorcan can sense your mind has wandered elsewhere. His length stretches you painfully as he slows down. He leans his forehead down to yours, caging your head with his forearms. “What is it baby? Tell me what you need.”

You whimper at the softness in his voice. “I want to try something new.” He nods encouraging you to continue. “Do you trust me baby?” “Of course, doll. Take what you need, you know I’ll always give it to you.” You nod and he goes back to thrusting into you like a mad man.

You move your head down to his neck kissing and licking down to his collarbones. Lorcan lets out a strained moan and you can feel yourself getting wetter. You want to hear him moan again but louder and unrestrained. As you move back up the column of his throat your arms snake around his shoulders and down his back.

Reaching down his long torso as far as you can, you sink your nails into his skin and drag them upwards at a sensual pace. Pulling him closer to you as your hands move higher.

“Fuck, y/n,” He moans louder this time. He starts thrusting into you deeper as you move your mouth down to the spot between his shoulder and neck. You suck harshly at the spot and Lorcans breathing becomes labored.

Finally, you open your mouth and bite down roughly on his soft skin. The moan Lorcan lets out is animalistic and it spurs you on. You bite him again hard enough to leave teeth marks, licking over the marks to soothe them.

“Fuck doll, that felt good. Your mouth is so perfect.” You smirk against his skin. He seats himself fully inside you, you moan as you bite down on him again. As that coil winds in your stomach you break his skin and he groans, “Fuck!”

You let go of Lorcan throwing your head back, “Lorcan,” you whine out, “I’m gonna cum!” He growls again and slips his large hand under your head lifting you back to his neck. “I’m close too doll. Come on, baby bite me again.”

You kiss his neck before biting down again. As your teeth sink into Lorcan he pushes you over the edge of release. As Lorcan fucks you through your high he lets out a moan that you’ve never heard from him before. It’s exactly what you wanted from him. Still holding him between your teeth you smile against his neck. You feel his hot seed fill you up and let go of Lorcan, going limp in his arms.

He pulls out of you and sets you back down on the bed gently, so contrasting to how he was just handling you. He rests his head on your chest to catch his breath. Bringing your hand up, you run your fingers through his long, dark hair.

After a few minutes Lorcan picks his head up, staring at your happy, fucked out expression. He brushes away some stray hair sticking to your face, caressing your cheek and neck.

“So,” he drawls, “biting, huh?” A harsh blush appears on your cheeks as you try to look away from him. “Hey,” he grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I liked it to doll.” You chuckle, “Yeah I picked up on that.”He laughs, pulling you into him and rolling onto his back. “I love you doll.”

tags: @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#throne of glass #throne of glass smut #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass fanfiction #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan x reader #Lorcan Salvaterre x reader #Lorcan x you #Lorcan smut #lorcan salvaterre smut

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gothimp · 3 months

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Ive talked about it before but one of the biggest things that draws shadowheart to lorcan isn’t just him getting her out of the pod on the nautiloid, it’s breaking her of the harpie’s song on the beach.

It’s the first time she sees how ruthless he is up close, ripping the wing off the harpy that’s luring her. It’s not contained calculated stealth that she saw from him in the dilapidated temple where they found withers.

Yet she can’t express her gratitude for what he does without revealing yet another weakness of hers, and so quickly after being saved on the nautiloid and admitting her fear of wolves I imagine it was just entirely too much.

It really just starts their awkward dance between desire and resentment that they have til the end of act 2. They’re so entwined and its too close for either of their comforts but they have little other choice.

#me when shadowlor 📣📣📣📣📣#also i just imagine being rescued by lorcan feels uncomfortably like getting rescued by a bully you arent sure wont just turn on you next #lorcan is sooo best friends grumpy older brother-core #lorcan x shadowheart #nes plays bg3 #i will possibly shut up now…#nes.txt

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 5.3k words // ciwyw mastlist // playlist // masterlist

It had been a frustrating day to begin with. After failing to sleep for more than a collective two hours the night before, Rowan had tried to carry on with his day like he would any other Sunday. The conversation with Aelin, and more importantly her response, pounding with every slap of his shoes against the treadmill. Not even a full leg-day workout could dispel the dreadful, anxious energy brewing at the forefront of his mind.

Lorcan had showed up at the house early in the afternoon and chewed his ass out for the red card. He was fully in Team Captain mode for the full lecture, barely letting Rowan get a word in edgewise. At some point he gave up on defending himself and let Lorcan get his rant out. Once he was finished, he’d flopped onto Rowan’s couch and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Alright. Your turn. Talk about it.”

“I already told you I was sor–” He’d started, hands bracing his knees as he debated groveling on his knees for Lorcan to let up. It had been a long enough weekend and he couldn’t handle another half hour. Sure, he deserved being called a stupid, selfish bastard, but he was tired. There wasn’t much left for him to say other than he was sorry, and he’d already done that multiple times.

“I’m not talking about the match. The girl. Something’s bothering you, so talk. The other idiots aren’t here to give you shit about it.” The man had a point. Without everyone else there to make subtle digs, it was easier for him to nod his head and dive headfirst into the clusterfuck of a situation he was in with Aelin.

To his credit, Lorcan listened to every word until it was all laying before them like a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were hard to put together because there were about a million of them, all tiny, and several of them were missing entirely. Rowan couldn’t find the corners and didn’t know which way was up or down. Lorcan listened anyway. The migraine that had been coming on for the last few hours hit in full force when Lorcan compared it all to a fucking onion.

“Give her space. Give her time. The shit with Lyria is a lot to unpack on its own. Add into it that you’ve found yourself in a similar, however different, situation with Aelin… it would be a lot for anyone. It’s an onion, mate. Shit has fucking layers to it.” Rowan had given him a flat look that caused Lorcan to raise his hands in front of his chest. “I’m just saying. Might also be a lesson to check the expirations on those rubbers before you use them, too. Twice in one lifetime? You are one unlucky bastard.”

“You’re not helping,” Rowan glowered, eyes narrowed into little slits. Even if it was good advice, it didn’t do him a lick of good at this point. So much for not getting any shit about this.

“What brand did you use? I need to avoid those fuckers like the plague.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan sighed exasperatedly, all ten fingers raking through his hair until it was a mess of tangles.

“Just give her the space she asked for, Ro. She told you what to do. So do it.”

“It’s hard to give her space when I just want to be with her all the time,” he finally admitted, slumping back against the sofa. The position did nothing to help the throbbing in his head, but he didn’t move.

“I really need to meet this woman if she has you, of all people, wound so tight you look like you’re about to explode,” Lorcan said with the shake of his head. “Do you think she’s worth all the trouble?”

Rowan didn’t have to think about it. The answer was a huge, resounding yes. She was worth fighting for. He said as much and Lorcan nodded, eyes focused on the empty fireplace.

“For what it’s worth… I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you talk about her. Don’t get me wrong, until she cuts you a break and gives you a real chance, she’s on my shit-list. But she makes you happy. I’ve never seen you this way about a woman and I think… I think she pulls out the best parts of you.” Lorcan’s confession made Rowan’s chest feel a little tight. “Except for when she’s the reason you’re so pissed off you get carded.”

They had both shared a quiet laugh at that, then spent the rest of the evening sipping beer and watching the major sports channels for highlights of the other games that happened over the weekend.

Hours later, Rowan truly was about to explode. Sleep was already hard to find despite scouring every drawer and pocket in his brain. When his phone pinged, hope had swelled that it was Aelin. As much as he loved to see her smiling face lighting up his phone, it was not what he had in mind.

Rowan Whitethorn liked to think of himself as a man with self control and reason. Amongst his teammates he was known for being level-headed, someone that thought things through and didn’t jump the gun. To his core, he always had been those things– until he met Aelin Galathynius, and he was unraveling quicker than a dropped spool of thread.

You know, the one that rolled under the bed and there was no hope of getting it back unless you kept pulling on the string. The spool would re-emerge from the shadows once the thread was in a mess of a knot at your feet and there was absolutely no hope of getting it wrapped back around its little home neatly. In fact, you might even scrap the whole thing and throw it in the garbage because the reward didn’t outweigh the tedious task at hand.

Rowan felt like that unraveled spool of thread as he stared at his phone screen at two in the morning, the simple plastic phone case groaning under the pressure of his white-knuckled grip. The edges of his vision were hazy because he hadn’t blinked a single time since he saw the picture that Fenrys sent him.

Mala fucking help him, he was going to murder his teammate. A brutal, bloody murder. Rowan had never been so sure that he was going to end up in fucking jail.

Aelin was radiant– something that had been missing from her the last time he saw her. The woman in the picture was exactly the woman that had ripped his heart from his chest before he even knew what was happening. The more muted version he’d had over the weekend still held his throbbing, bleeding heart. But the woman beaming in the photo was the one who stole it in the first place.

Her hair was down, the golden waves cascading over her shoulders and out of frame. With rose-kissed cheeks and plump, sensual lips spread wide in one of the smiles she used to give him, she was devastating. A little tipsy from his afternoon with Lorcan, Rowan had to physically restrain himself from tracing the shape of her mouth with his fingers. Gods, when did he become such a sap?

The first photo was just her. A tiny cocktail straw was between her teeth, eyes closed from the force of her smile. Her eyelashes seemed to graze the top of her cheeks they were so long. Because of the angle of the photo, taken from a lower, upturned angle, one of the golden lightbulbs gave her a halo. It was fitting, because she was a fucking angel.

>> She’s even more beautiful in person.

Rowan knew that. He was well aware of how fucking beautiful she was. But why did Fenrys know that? Why was he discovering the truth of it at two in the godsdamn morning?

>> What the fuck?

<< I mean, if you’re not going to, she should get it from somewhere. You haven’t had sex in her bed yet, have you?

>> Fenrys I swear to the fucking gods if you touch her I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.

The picture that followed made him want to throw his phone across the room and hope it shattered into a million pieces he couldn’t put back together. Someone across the table had taken it, probably Connall if he had to guess. Aelin’s arm was around Fenrys’s neck and they were cheek to cheek with matching smiles. Mischief was wild in Fen’s eyes while Aelin just looked… happy.

And then he noticed, just at the edge of the picture, how low on her hip his godsdamn hand was and he thought he was going to lose his mind. Yep. He was definitely going to be arrested for homicide in a few hours. The mugshot would be in every newspaper in the country, across the world, and he didn’t care.

>> She’s just wearing minty lip balm. My face will be nothing but hydrated and tasty.

<< You motherfucker

>> Well… not yet 😉

And then Fenrys stopped replying.

The self-control and level-headedness he had once prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. He tried to pull on the thread of his sanity, to tell himself it didn’t matter, that all of this was fine. Yet every time he looked back at the screen, every muscle and tendon in his body was so taught it felt as though one movement would have them all in ribbons.

Rowan hadn’t ever had a relationship where he felt the need to protect as much as he did with Aelin. Maybe it was partially because of the baby, but a roaring silence filled his head at the thought of her with another man, least of all Fenrys fucking Moonbeam. If Fenrys respected any kind of friendship code, he wouldn’t even act like he was thinking about toeing that line.

It felt stupid. They were barely dating and only knew the tip of the iceberg with each other. Still, there was something so different with her. For the first time in almost a decade, he had let his guard down. There were no mile high cement walls around his heart with nowhere to grasp to climb up and over. He was just Rowan, an unopened book with unexplored pages begging to be read.

It was highly unlikely that he was the only person that found himself inexplicably drawn to her. She was sweeter and more intoxicating than any drug, than any brand of alcohol money could buy. Aelin Galathynius had the energy of someone that you just wanted to taste once, because once she was gone you wouldn’t experience anything like her ever again. Coming so close to losing her, Rowan was keenly aware of that fact, and he wasn’t sure how he would ever move on if they didn’t really give themselves the chance to explore it. They were opposite ends of two very strong magnets. It was impossible that she didn’t feel that, too.

Rowan Whitethorn didn’t open up to just anybody. He didn’t let people in. Aelin wasn’t just a fluke. He was absolutely sure of it.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop chattering through his brain. Words flashed behind his closed eyelids a thousand miles a minute, leaving nothing but explosions of stars and colors where he tried to rub them away. Every time he looked at his phone, the desire to get in his car and drive to Aelin’s grew stronger and stronger. It was becoming an itch that he couldn’t he couldn’t ignore, and once the sun finally started to peek in through his blinds, he was rolling out of bed and nearly running to shower and change clothes.

By the time eight rolled around, he had forced a small bowl of cereal down his throat and downed what was probably too many cups of coffee. By eight-fifteen, Rowan was in his car and speeding toward the highway to Varese with something that belonged to Aelin sitting in his front seat.

~*~

Rowan felt… Well, he felt insane.

Not for the first time, he was asking himself what the fuck he was doing as he knocked on the door to Aelin’s apartment. At several red lights through the city, he debated going home. Halfway up the staircase, he had paused and gone down three steps, only to turn around and march right back up and to her door. The echoing of his fist on the wood had him hesitating once again, wondering if he should just get in his car and go home. He had no clue what he was doing here, besides just needing to see her and make sure that both she and the baby were okay, regardless of her late night activities.

That’s what he was telling himself, anyway.

In the ten agonizing seconds it took for him to head footsteps from inside her apartment, he almost turned and bolted. Rowan was well aware that he was being a territorial fool. Evidently there was no reasoning with that very stupid and very irrational part of his brain, even as the clicking and sliding of locks had him wondering how quickly he could make it down a flight of stairs without being caught.

“Oh,” came her surprised voice, wide eyes and raised brows to match. It was his very favorite version of Aelin that opened the door. All of her golden hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head, a few pieces framing her face. Much to his satisfaction, he realized she was wearing the shirt he’d told her she could keep a few days prior. A pair of little black shorts peeked out from the hem, and the long expanse of her bare legs had him almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice brought his eyes back to her face. There was no evidence of the makeup she’d had on the night before and though he could tell by looking at her that she was exhausted, he could also see that she had at least a few hours of good sleep. The skin around her eyes was a little puffy and a few lines were tattooed on her cheeks from her pillow or the blanket.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I’ve been awake for like half an hour. Just haven't gotten to dragging myself out of bed yet since I’m not going to the office today.” Right. It was Monday. In his hazy stupor, Rowan had entirely forgotten that she should have been going to work.

“Are you too sick today?” Rowan was immediately on edge, searching her face and body for any sign of what would keep her from working. There was no point– she was downright glowing today. A healthy blush heated her cheeks and he could almost make out the small smattering of freckles across her nose from where he stood across the threshold.

“No,” she said simply. “I feel really good today, actually. You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here, Rowan?”

“You forgot your toothbrush at my house,” he said lamely, patting at his pockets. Fuck. “It was purple? I left it in my car.”

“I did leave it at your house because that’s the one you bought for me to keep there.” There was laughter in her words as she spoke, like she was bringing up an inside joke they’d made. Mirth danced in her brilliant turquoise eyes despite her face contorting with confusion as she asked again, her tone softer this time, “What are you doing here, Rowan?”

What a loaded fucking question. He sure as hell didn’t know. How many times on the way here had he asked himself the same thing?

He didn’t have to answer it directly, though, because he realized her shower was running down the hall. Before he could stop himself he blurted, “Is that Fenrys?”

“Fen– what?” There was so much disbelief in her voice, but she started laughing. “You drove all the way up here to see if Fenrys spent the night with me?”

Rowan wasn’t sure if the laughter was a good thing or a bad thing. It was impossible to tell if she was laughing at him for being so stupid he thought he had any right to know about her private life when he wasn’t around, or if she was laughing because the idea was so stupid and he had nothing to be worried about. He was inclined to think it was the former, because even though Fenrys liked to rile him up, he didn’t know if he would push Rowan quite so hard.

“Hey, bub? You hungry?” A voice, one that was distinctly not Fenrys’s shouted from the bathroom. In that one, tiny pet name, Rowan’s entire heart sank through the floor. If he looked down, he was sure he would be standing in a puddle of his own blood. The world had gone very quiet, his fingers suddenly freezing as he stuffed them into his pockets.

“Yes,” she called back, her eyes not leaving Rowan’s face.

Aelin was seeing someone else. It wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to him until those texts from Fenrys, but now it was glaringly obvious. She had already said once that their relationship wasn’t supposed to turn into anything serious. Had she been seeing other men the whole time? It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about being exclusive in any shape or form. They had plenty of time away from each other. He never would have known. It couldn’t even be considered cheating.

“Rowan,” she said, bottom lip tucked between her teeth to swallow her smile.

“I’ll… I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to the guy in the shower,” he half-mumbled, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands.

And then she was well and truly laughing. It was a bright, melodious sound that under any other circumstance, he would have loved to pull out of her, to bottle up and get drunk on it whenever he pleased.. But right here, right now? Rowan was fucking gutted, and she was giggling like he’d said the funniest thing in the world.

Rowan had just turned to start walking away when she collected herself enough to say, “You mean my cousin?”

Time stopped. His blood was pumping in reverse to turn back the clock, to take everything he’d just said and wipe it from existence. Even his movements felt slower as he looked at her, fire licking up his neck and covering his face. The tips of his ears would be nearly purple and if he walked out into the humid air, his body would be steaming. She could probably feel the heat of his body from where she stood in the doorway.

Rowan had never been so fucking embarrassed in his entire life.

“Yeah, I– I am so sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he grumbled, turning on his heel to make his swift exit and go die in peace. Recovery wasn’t an option. There was absolutely no coming back from this.

~*~

The plan with Fenrys had either gloriously backfired, or he put much more into the prank than expected. She made a mental note to text him about that later, but there wasn’t time for that now.

Aelin stepped through the door and caught Rowan’s hand before he was too far away. He felt feverish, like his immune system was trying to burn out the embarrassment before it could settle too much. It took a lot of tugging but he stopped trying to escape her presence. His footsteps were heavy on the old wood floors as she dragged him back toward her apartment.

“I really just want to go,” he told her, tattooed fingers sliding through his hair. It was down for once, not braided or tied out of his face.

“Look at me.” But he wouldn’t. Green eyes stayed glued to a spot well above her head, looking at anything but her. Yes, it had been funny that he thought that Aedion was a random hookup. But the devastation on his face had done nothing but wreck her in return. The laughter was partially an involuntary response to an awkward situation, but also because it was cute that he was so worried about it. Rowan had absolutely nothing to be worried about.

“Aelin–” The more she reached for him, the more he leaned away. He took one step back and she took one forward, refusing to let him leave while so upset. Aelin reached up, her cool hands resting on his warm cheeks as she gently guided his face to look at her. Before he could protest or slip further from her grasp, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. All ten of his fingers were shaking when they came to rest on her hips and it broke her heart.

“Take a breath,” she whispered, sliding her hands down his neck and over his chest. Rowan’s eyes were still closed as he rested his warm forehead against her own, but he obeyed. “Fenrys was just fucking with you. Clearly he took it way too far and I am so sorry. We will most definitely be having words about that.”

Before he could respond, from the depths of her apartment Aedion once again shouted for her and Rowan’s hands flexed on her hips. Aelin sighed and grabbed his hands, walking backwards with him until they were inside. Her fingertips were able to reach around him to push the door shut, sealing him inside with her.

“Aedion, can you shut the fuck up and come out here and talk to me like a normal person? You’re freaking out my boyfriend and he’s been through enough for today.” Aedion’s hurried footsteps down the hall and the click of his door shutting was the only response she was given, likely to hurry and dress for their sudden company.

Rowan looked inclined to agree with her sentiments, but didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen to get him some water. There was something off about him, and not just because of the trauma Fenrys had inflicted on him, nor the embarrassment that still stained his cheeks. He seemed almost… dim. All of the energy he’d had mere moments ago was vanishing before her eyes. His posture was a deflated balloon hovering inches from the ground a week after the party.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. Rowan shrugged as she nudged for him to sit in the corner while she curled onto the middle cushion beside him, her legs leaning against his thigh. If anything, she hoped it would ground him from the hell he’d been dragged through in the last few hours. “When was the last time you slept?”

Rowan exhaled, his cheeks puffing out with the gust of air. Dark circles haunted the skin beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot, making the green of them all the more piercing. Aelin frowned at his lack of response, tugging on his sleeve until he looked at her.

“The fact that it’s taking you so long to figure it out tells me enough.” As though they couldn’t help themselves, despite her telling him she needed space, her traitorous fingers reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s been a few days,” He admitted, attempting to rub the tiredness away with his thumb and forefinger. “And my head is fucking killing me.”

“Let’s eat some breakfast and then we can nap, yeah? I’d tuck you in right now but I’m starving and I think you probably need to eat a bit, too.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows, lips pursing into a line as he looked over at her and said, “Is that… okay? You said you wanted space. I’m not exactly giving it to you by showing up like this.”

“Considering I’ve barely been awake for an hour and could already use a nap, I’m going to go with yes. Besides, I do want you to meet Aedion while he’s here.” Thank the gods, his lips quirked into a small smile. Relief fluttered through her chest. She had never been so happy to see somebody smile at her before.

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, however, Aedion’s door opened and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Aelin looked over at her cousin with a look that threatened violence if he tried the man beside her even a little too hard. Much to her surprise, Aedion gave a short nod before walking closer to the couch.

“Aedion, meet Rowan. Rowan, this is Aedion.” Aelin was a little surprised that Rowan mustered the muscle power to stand and shake hands. “Rowan is very tired so save the groveling for later, please.”

“I think you should be telling him to save my ass-kicking for later,” Rowan amended, sitting back on the couch. Aelin grinned as he looked over at her. “I can assume you told him what I’ve done.”

“And that you’re very sorry,” she added sweetly, but her glance at Aedion was sharp as a dagger. Though his mouth had opened, likely to throw his own little quip into the sparring ring, it shut immediately.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” Aedion said simply, dropping onto the sofa beside Aelin with enough force that she bounced. She scowled at him, her hand immediately going to cover her stomach. “What are we eating?”

Half an hour later they had brunch delivered to the apartment, the three of them sitting knee to knee on the couch. The sofa in question had been chosen for the luxurious aesthetic it provided, but she made a mental note to look at sectionals. There was no way she could have any other visitors with only this and the overstuffed chair in the corner for seating.

Though he said a few things here and there, most of the conversation was Aelin and Aedion’s casual banter. While they did talk a little bit about the game he was carded in and what he expected for the rest of the season, as the conversation went on Rowan seemed to keep drawing further and further into himself. His broad shoulders were caved in and that wrinkle between his eyebrows got deeper and deeper. It looked like it was taking an astronomical amount of effort to keep his eyes open.

When they finished, Aelin and Rowan settled back against the couch while Aedion cleaned everything up. She had intended to just check a few emails before getting Rowan to bed, but he dozed comically fast. The email was half-read when she locked her phone and contemplated the best way to wake him gently.

“This is the man that got the first red-card of his career for being so fucking pissed on Friday?” Aedion asked incredulously.

“So it would seem.”

“You’ve never seen him play–” But Aelin cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I have. I watched the game until he got kicked out and then drove to Doranelle.”

“Before that,” his hand cut through the air, dismissing her. Aelin gave him a flat look before looking back at the man snoozing beside her. “He’s a demon, Aelin. When he’s on the field every move is calculated and with purpose. His face is always harsh and his body is always locked and loaded for the next play. Yet here he is, falling asleep on your couch with his mouth open. He might start drooling.” Aedion put his hands on his knees and leaned forward to get a closer look.

Aelin grinned, eyes cutting back to Aedion. She couldn’t help it. “Be nice, he’s getting old.”

She knew it was true. Ever since uncovering the truth about his job, she had spent an embarrassing amount of time watching highlight videos of his career online. Every photo she saw that was snapped mid-match, his face was all hard lines and angles like he was in the middle of a battlefield fighting for his life. On the soccer pitch, he looked like a warrior that had been honed for battle. Here, on her couch asleep, he just looked like Rowan. The real Rowan, and she was pretty sure not many people saw this side of him.

“He looks younger like this,” he observed, eyes squinting as if he could see the soccer persona in his face if he tried hard enough. It was nowhere to be seen, though.

“Probably because he isn’t awake to frown at me.”

“Yeah, no way this is the same guy that fought his way to a red-card before halftime,” Aedion concluded. Aelin snorted, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Rowan didn’t so much as twitch.

“I’m pretty sure he almost cried when he heard you yell at me from the bathroom. He thought…” Involuntary giggles bubbled through her chest and out of her mouth, “He thought you were a hookup from last night.”

“That’s gross.” Aedion’s lips were downturned as he straightened, arms folding across his chest. “He almost cried?”

“That’s where it gets not-so- funny. Whatever Fenrys said to him really fucked him up.” She sighed then, reaching to trace his cheekbone with her fingertip. Rowan did stir then, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in a brute of a man staring down at him curiously and the feeling of Aelin’s skin on his. “Come on. Let’s go take a nap.”

In the most adorable protest of the century, Rowan started grumbling incoherently in the old language. Aelin smiled, only catching a few words here and there that equated to him insisting he wasn’t tired and they could nap later. His eyes betrayed him. They were heavy, blinking slowly and trying to roll back in his head.

“This is one argument you sure as hell aren’t going to win.” Aelin pulled him to his feet and guided him to her room. When she plopped him onto the edge of the bed his protesting started up again.

“What’s in it for me?” Sleepy, bleary eyes looked up at her as he refused to lay down. Aelin was standing between his legs with her hands on his shoulders, an eyebrow cocked to silently tell him he was being ridiculous.

“Besides sleeping for the first time in a couple days?” Rowan nodded, his fingertips grazing up her thighs and settling on her hips. She laughed, pushing his hair behind his ears. They would definitely be talking about his sleepless nights later. “What do you want?”

“A kiss, please.” His response was so immediate it made her heart play hopscotch in her chest. Sleepy Rowan might just be her favorite thing in the entire world. Not even cotton candy could make her feel so light and sweet.

“Okay, deal,” Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. Rowan swore in the old language but laid flat on his back and let her pull the blankets over his body.

“Should have been more specific,” he mumbled, pulling on her hand until she crawled over him to the other side of the bed and nestled into the sheets beside him. She let him pull her close until they were pressed flush together. A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders, replaced by his arms around her body. Aelin didn’t pull away but snuggled into him as much as she could, her face against his chest as she deeply inhaled the scent that was so completely Rowan. The scent that was home.

“You should have,” she agreed, but Rowan was already asleep.

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