#throne of glass oneshot
Text
Mistletinder
Masterlist
Merry Christmas/Yulemas, @writtenonreceipts! I hope this fic finds you well. I was so happy when I got you in the draw because I admire you so much, and I hope you have as much fun reading your gift as I had writing it ❤️
@rowaelinscourt thank you for organizing the secret Santa!
Warnings: moderate alcohol intake
Words: 4,7k
“This is gonna bite you in the ass someday, you know?” Sellene reproached from behind the steering wheel. Her friend couldn’t see what Aelin was doing on her phone, but somehow she knew.
“Shh!” Aelin looked behind her to check on the girls, but they were still sound asleep. At the age of four, if they listened to any curse word, it’d be forever until they stopped repeating it over and over again. At least, from what she was told, the Whitethorn family was used to small children and their demands. It was the whole reason why she was spending Yulemas with them, after all.
Aelin and Maisie were on their own now, and when Sellene all but dragged them to her family’s farm because of all the kids and animals, it was hard to argue. After the year from hell they had, a nice Yulemas was the least she could do for Maisie.
“You’re avoiding the subject,” Sellene insisted.
“Yes. Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“But you sure seem to want to keep doing it, huh?”
When you’re broke after your divorce and your business isn’t thriving, ain’t it funny what you’ll do?
On one drunken night amidst her separation, Aelin downloaded Tinder and scheduled a date on the bookstore café she owned. But when she freaked out and canceled right after the guy—Archer—arrived, she could only watch from her mezzanine office, amazed, as he stuffed his face with baked goods and left with two books.
After that, luring people from Tinder into Fireheart Books & Cafe was just a small part of her marketing plan. And the most unethical one.
“It’s a lucrative strategy,” Aelin said, feeling defensive.
“That you don’t need anymore.” Sellene rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just butcher the anthropology section to fit more tables?”
Yes. For the same reason Aelin added sidewalk dining tables. “Your point is?”
“Did you at least give someone a try while you’re at it?”
Once. Just one person that made her actually enjoy the execution of her plan, even extending it so she’d talk to him more before ghosting. Conversation flowed, and Aelin had already gone on some dates at that point after her separation, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d find love on Tinder.
“That app is a lost cause, Sel.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t find some good hot dates.” Her friend wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I did.”
Aelin managed to muffle her laughter with one hand so the two sleeping beauties on the back wouldn’t wake up. She brushed her daughter’s chestnut hair away from her face, watching the way she leaned on her friend during their nap. Maisie and Bree were thick as thieves in preschool and, as single moms, Aelin and Sellene would frequently help each other out.
Sellene has a hot date? Auntie Ae and Maisie will happily have Bree for a sleepover.
Aelin is busy at the book shop? Auntie Sel and Bree can drop Maisie there when school is over.
Sellene was godsend this year, and listening to her rant about her love life was just one of the fun perks of being so close to her. If the few dates Aelin went to this year actually happened, it was because her friend insisted.
“So, how’s that thing with Ilias again?” Aelin said, desperate to change the subject.
A groan. “You will not believe what he texted me this morning…”
Aelin let her friend go on about her situationship, a little relieved that she wasn’t the focus of the conversation anymore.
Truth was, she was a little anxious about this Yulemas. Sellene guaranteed that her family was too big for Aelin to intrude in something intimate, and the Whitethorns were properly notified about her stay, but that nagging feeling that her and Maisie were crashing the party wouldn’t go.
After they got to the farm, it was a while before they reached the house.
When Sellene told her about all the family traditions and how homey it was, Aelin expected an old farmhouse of sorts. To be honest, she didn’t think much about how the house would look, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a classic-looking manor with an exterior made of white stone.
A blonde woman showed up on the porch before Sel parked the car, then she ran inside and came back, tugging a man by the arm. By that time, they were already leaving the car with their bags, but the older couple still insisted on helping them.
Rory and Owen, her friend’s aunt and uncle, as they introduced themselves. Aelin’s introduction was brief, since Sellene filled her family in on who she was beforehand, but they still made small talk. Though she wasn’t paying much attention, too caught up on the similarity between Sellene and Owen. Her friend joked about some strong traits running in her family, but this was uncanny.
“Genetics, huh?” Sellene said, a teasing grin on her face.
Aelin was staring, wasn’t she? Oops. “Yes, genetics.” She turned to Owen. “I can’t believe you’re not even her father!”
Rory laughed and urged them inside. “Come on, darling, there’s a lot of silver hair and green eyes for you to compare.” She smirked before she added, “And if you happen to like it, my son is single. Thirty-one, stable job, goes to the gym a lot—“
“Auntie,” Sellene reproached.
The matron frowned. “I’m not being very smooth, am I?”
Her husband gave her two gentle taps on the shoulder. “You’re never smooth at matchmaking, darling.”
Rory gave Aelin an apologetic smile before continuing, “We’re stuck with some housework right now, but if you can wait—“
“I’ll show her around,” Sellene said, waving her aunt off.
“Alright, then. Pick any empty room you’d like.” Rory turned to Aelin. “You and your little one are the most welcome, make yourselves at home,” she said with a beam before scurrying away to the kitchen.
And about Aelin’s little one: where the hell was she?
Sellene leaned closer to Aelin and murmured, “But you can totally flirt with my cousins if you’d like. There’s a whole bunch of them for you to pick.”
“I don’t think I’ll have time for that, but thanks.” Not that she wants to, but it’ll become a hard no if she’ll have to wrangle Maisie all the time.
“I saw them coming inside.” Sellene tugged Aelin. “Don’t worry, she’s safe here.”
“Your house is not.” At least not with her four-year-old on the loose.
The two women dropped their bags by the entrance and ran around looking for them, calling their names. Aelin couldn’t register much other than white walls and wooden furniture, her mind filled with what could Maisie possibly break in this small time frame, and how much it costs.
Aelin’s worry was peaking when she listened to her daughter’s voice coming from another porch, this one attached to the living room.
"Do you do your tattoos alone, or does your mom help you too?"
The man blinked, confused, until Maisie showed him the few Barbie bubblegum tattoos on her forearm. She gave it a pointed look, then to the many tattoos he had on his left arm, taking most of the limb.
Aelin decided it was best to make herself known, introduce yourself, and see if this stranger needed rescuing from her curious preschooler. She couldn’t see this man’s face from her point-of-view, but she had an inkling of who he could be because of his—shocker—silver hair.
“Maisie!” She called from afar, “I was looking for—“
The words died in her throat when she recognized the man before her. Aelin’s core felt ice-cold all of a sudden, despite the dangerous pounding of her heart. There was no way in hell this was happening, and she blamed Tinder for not requiring users to use their last name there.
“Aelin.” He made a point of looking at his bare wrist, as if checking the time. “I think you’re a bit late for our date.”
˜˜
Upstairs, in the safety of her bedroom, Sellene had the gall to cackle.
Aelin glared at her. “Could you not?”
Before ten minutes ago, her friend was absolutely clueless to the fact that Aelin and Rowan knew each other, just like she had no clue that Sellene and Rowan are cousins. But it saved her, since the woman walked into that porch and spared Aelin from doing any talking.
“Alright, lemme just…” Sellene turned away, as if Aelin couldn’t see her friend’s shoulders shaking from behind. Then she took a deep breath and turned back around. “Alright.” A twitch on the corner of her lips that was quickly concealed. “But you said you liked him?”
“That’s not the point!” Aelin said, pacing in the empty space between the bed and the wall.
Chatting with Rowan was nice, and she may have indulged in conversation with him more than she usually lets herself, but Aelin felt so drained after her divorce. She let herself be dragged to dates sometimes, but she didn’t have it in herself to fully face the dating scene again.
Sellene rolled her eyes and threw herself on the bed. “That’s the key point, actually. It’ll define our entire course of action.”
“Nope. Our course of action is whatever protects Maisie from this mess.”
Aelin was so afraid of fucking up Maisie’s Yulemas when she got here, she didn’t realize she’d potentially fucked up even before arriving. Her throat felt thick just to think of it.
Sellene squeezed her hand. “He’s not gonna cause a scandal or anything, Rowan’s not like that.”
“He’s not going to tell your incredibly welcoming family that I’m actually a cold-hearted milf that stood him up and ghosted?”
“Okay,” Sel trailed, grimacing. “He’s not like that, but he is a bit of a gossip, so…”
Aelin sat on the edge of the bed and groaned, her face resting in both hands. Whether he had a big mouth or not, she needed to fix this. Because she couldn’t put Maisie’s Yulemas in jeopardy, yes, but also because Rowan deserves an apology.
Truth is, Aelin never felt tempted to give a chance to the guys she chatted with, because everyone she met on Tinder could be classified as one of: a chronic manwhore, overall gross, or gross for a single but relevant reason, or a misogynist bigot. And sometimes she even liked to leave them stranded, especially when they fell into the latter category.
Usually, Aelin just acted flirty enough to let the guy think something other than coffee would happen, that way he’d run to their ‘date’ without wasting more of their time.
But there were exceptions, of course, and Rowan was one of them. He wasn’t exactly chatty, but she still found herself texting him back and forth late at night for almost two weeks. When he oh-so-gently requested to meet her in person after dropping some hints about it here and there to no avail, she knew she had to cut this short.
It was just business, or so she told herself when it was time to cancel the plans that were never bound to happen. Aelin didn’t have space in her life for much else.
But now the girls, Rowan and a few other Whitethorns were off to see the baby goats and some other kid-friendly farm animals, which gave Aelin a small time frame to plan her next move.
Sellene got up from her bed, nothing but determination on her face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’ll wait downstairs. When they come back, I’ll keep an eye on Maisie while you scurry him away to apologize.”
This was the lamest plan Aelin has ever gotten into. “I expected better scheming from you.”
“No scheming this time,” her friend warned, “just tell him the truth.”
And that was what Aelin kept in mind, as she waited with Sel in the kitchen under the disguise of chatting with Rory.
The kids barreled into the room a while later, chatting about the farm animals they saw, petted, or even fed. Rowan lingered on the other side of the kitchen, carefully avoiding Aelin’s eyes while he rectified the little one’s exaggerated stories with things like actually, no goat charged at them, they just wail all the time.
Despite the high excitement, Maisie’s attention drifted when she noticed the batch of gingerbread men coming off the oven.
“My grandma makes gingerbread people too,” she said to Rory, then frowned. “Do you know my grandma?”
Aelin’s heart squeezed at the sight. She was hoping to keep Maisie’s mind off her father’s family these holidays.
“I’m afraid not, honey. Is she from Doranelle too?”
“No, she lives very, very, very far. I need to get on a plane to see her.”
“That’s very far indeed.” Rory chuckled. “What’s she doing this year?”
Maisie shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t have Yulemas with Daddy this year because he’s stuck in prison.”
The room fell silent, all eyes on her little girl’s outcast expression as Aelin’s face grew impossibly hot. Gods, her daughter sure had a way with words.
“Because he’s a prison psychologist,” Aelin amended, to everyone’s relief, by the way their shoulders collectively relaxed.
Chaol wasn’t seeing his daughter these holidays because he was too busy in the Southern Continent with his girlfriend—former mistress—but there was no way Aelin was telling her little girl that. Work was the go-to excuse to why he missed so many bi-monthly visitations, and it worked for Yulemas too.
One day, Maisie would understand that Aelin has been a single mom since long before her divorce. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to postpone said realization for as long as she could.
“Oh, how silly of me! I forgot to get rosemary.” Rory changed the subject when silence reigned, thank Mala. The time when Chaol was a touchy subject was long gone, but people still tiptoed around it with her.
The woman continued, “Aelin, darling, could you get me some, please?”
“Sure…” she trailed, looking around. “Where can I—“
“Rowan will show you the garden,” Rory quipped.
And Aelin thought that getting him alone for a moment would be tricky. Clearly, she underestimated his mother.
Rowan glared at the older woman, but she didn’t waver. Instead, the more that odd exchange lasted, the more Rory seemed to enjoy forcing her son to spend time with someone he clearly didn’t want around.
Fuck, Aelin needed to fix this immediately.
He gestured to the open back door in the kitchen, and led her to a kitchen garden close to the house.
Sunshine glanced off the leaves which vegetables, herbs and fruit grew, and Aelin wished she could enjoy its beauty more. The smell of fresh herbs and sound of the leaves shuddering were the only soothing things, given the conversation she had ahead.
She waited for him to make a start, to no avail. Perhaps he did, earlier today when she first saw him, right before Sellene walked in and they pretended that first exchange didn’t happen.
“I’m sorry.”
Rowan’s step faltered for a second. He gave her a curt nod, and continued his stroll towards the rosemary shrubs.
She continued, “I shouldn’t have stood you up, it was really shitty of me and I totally deserve it if you hate me right now.” A pause. “But I was hoping we could put this aside for Yulemas, you know? Being in the same house and all.”
“Alright,” he said while slowly nodding, and Aelin’s shoulders loosened up with relief for a moment, until he finally looked her in the eye and added, “I'll go easy on you if you tell me what happened.”
“I told you, I’ve been having a hard time dating after my—“
“Yeah, you told me that in your apology text, but I feel like there’s something missing.”
He got her there. It was true, but not the ugly truth.
“Remember the shop I asked you to meet me at?”
He nodded.
“I own it. And my Tinder account is strictly for… cash inflow.”
This time, he fully stopped. He studied Aelin with widened eyes, and after judging the seriousness in her expression, he laughed. It was loud and full, overpowering the gentle flutter of the leaves and birds’ wings around them.
He kneeled by the shrub, snapped a few branches with his fingers, and it was just then that Aelin realized they had already arrived at their destination.
“You’re not mad?”
Rowan shrugged, and she wanted to read his expression so bad, but he had his back to her, still working on his mother’s rosemary. “I guess should be mad. I’m definitely impressed. It’s a very clever move.”
Aelin didn’t know if she should thank him or not. “But are we cool?”
He chuckled, something more amicable in his eyes this time, when he turned around. “Yes, sure. It was just online dating. Do you know how often people get ghosted? I wasn’t gonna start a riot because of that.”
“‘Kay, thanks.” He was being such a nice sport, his forgiveness only worsened the guilt she felt. “And though you’re right about that, I’d be totally mad and petty if someone stood me up. Just saying.”
“I wasn’t mad that you stood me up—“
Aelin sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.
He sighed and continued, “Alright, I was upset. Not mad. What actually made me mad is that you ghosted me after that.”
She stopped mid-stride, her head tilted. This made absolutely no sense. Rowan broke eye contact to rearrange the branches inside the small bag, making his fingers busy for a small moment of awkward silence that lasted a lifetime in Aelin’s head.
“I liked you, Aelin. You didn’t have to do that for me to visit your coffee shop.”
Aelin didn’t want to think about why his words stung, but they did.
˜˜
Engaging in conversation at dinner would be a lot easier if Maisie was eating, not showing Bree magic tricks.
She placed a french fry on the table, between her and her friend. “Now close your eyes,” Maisie commanded. When her friend complied, she shoved the fry in her mouth and said, “Ta-da!”
Bree opened her eyes, and the loud gasp she let out after noticing the fry was gone gave Aelin a good chuckle.
“Do it again!” Sellene’s daughter said, clapping her hands.
“Maybe you could do it with the cucumber this time?” Aelin cut in.
Maisie turned to her mother with all seriousness a four-year-old can muster. “Mommy, it’s Friday. We only eat fries.”
Being the little entertainer she is, the people near Maisie laughed, not for the first time this dinner. Including Rowan, who sat next to Sellene, almost in front of her. It was weird, hearing his laughter instead of reading a “haha”. A good weird. Still weird. For Mala’s sake, she needs to sort her feelings out.
“You are such a silly goose,” her friend said, fondness filling her eyes.
“No, Auntie Sel, you are a silly goose. I’m a silly gosling.” The little girl took her time pronouncing each syllable of the last word, careful to get it right.
Aelin’s mouth was ajar as she stared at her. “Where did you learn that?”
“Wowan.” Maisie said, beaming. “We’re bestest friends now because he’s an animal doctor, and he promised to show me all his animal friends so I can be friends with them too.”
“Is that so?” Aelin plastered on a smile, hoping it wasn’t too strained. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was nice enough to Maisie for her to consider him her new ‘bestest friend’, even before Aelin apologized. Fuck, she needed to unpack this later.
When she dared a glance at Rowan, he looked a little stiff, but still gave her a quick, close-lipped smile. “She likes the baby goats.”
Aelin would know. Maisie talked about them all day.
“Wowan, I’ll do a magic trick.”
He turned his full attention towards Maisie.
She continued, “Did you see me do it before?”
“Yes.”
“Try to forget.”
“I can’t do it, Maisie, I saw you do that trick too many times.” He leaned back on his chair, a lazy smirk on. “But I haven’t seen you make the cucumber disappear.”
She jolted on her seat, put a cucumber slice on the table, pointed a finger at Rowan and yelled, “Close your eyes!”
When he complied, Maisie ate that cucumber with a ferocity Aelin had never seen before.
“Dear Mala,” Rowan said when he opened his eyes, feigning shock. “Do it again.”
And that’s how he convinced her to eat every single vegetable on her plate. Fuck, he sure knows how to woo a single mom.
Not woo, Aelin chastised herself. Rowan said he liked her. In the past tense. Which should be a relief, but this wasn’t how she felt as she watched him smile at her daughter and make her have fun while eating healthy.
Rowan stole a glance at her, but Aelin had her eyes on him already. He swallowed, likely unsure of what to do after being caught staring while she was already staring.
Thank you, she mouthed so Maisie wouldn’t hear. To her surprise, his eyes softened, and he gave her a small smile.
Relief finally washed over her, when Aelin realized that the awkwardness in his expression had vanished.
˜˜
As predicted, Maisie was so hyper Aelin didn’t manage to properly enjoy the farm herself. But she didn’t mind it, since her daughter was the whole purpose of this trip. Besides, sometimes watching the kids play could be better than TV.
“I wanted to go out to eat with you, not you and your baby!” Maisie’s arms flailed around as she tried to explain her frustration.
Bree clutched her doll to her chest, a wounded look on her face. “But I can’t leave my baby alone!”
Rowan, who was just passing by the living room, froze when he registered what was going on. He turned to Aelin, confusion written all over his face, and discreetly sat by her side on the couch.
“Everything alright?”
Aelin pointed at the tea party toy set near the girls. “They’re at a pretend restaurant, eating pretend food and talking about their pretend jobs.” A pause so she wouldn’t start laughing here and there. “Maisie was expecting a girls’ night, but Bree brought her baby with her.”
“Oh, I see.” Aelin’s gaze swept over him for a minute, and it was unfair how good his pine-green eyes looked when they were filled with amusement like this. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m getting popcorn. You?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured, “I think this is a very complex issue. We can’t read it under a Manichaean view.”
Aelin chuckled, and they fell into comfortable silence while watching the girls. Rowan’s pine scent hit her senses, but it was the chilly wind coming from the window that made her shiver.
“You cold?”
She shrugged. “Not that much.”
Rowan stood up. “I’ll warm us up.”
“You’re getting a blanket?”
“Better,” Rowan said, a troublesome glint in his eyes. “Wine.”
Not as effective as a blanket, but definitely more fun.
“Merlot?” He suggested with his head tilted.
Unbelievable. Aelin briefly mentioned her favorite type of wine to this man over text in a late night conversation, and he still remembered it weeks later.
Rowan seemed to misread her silence, his expression becoming guarded. “But I can share the bottle with Enda if you don’t feel like it.”
Aelin’s gaze quickly turned to her daughter before she focused back on him. “Can it wait until after Maisie’s bedtime?”
Rowan took a step back with a grin on, and his eyes wouldn’t leave Aelin. “I’ll get the snacks ready.”
After wrangling Maisie around the house a little more and putting her to bed, Aelin found herself in the same living room as before. However, this time, the tea party set on the table was replaced by a small charcuterie board and two glasses of red wine.
They talked about their lives for hours. Now it was nearing midnight, and none of them seemed to grow tired of each other’s companies. It was just easy like that with him, and she knew it. Too easy, was what Aelin told herself in her office as she let him down. Too easy to be true, and not the delusion of a lonely twenty-nine-year-old divorcée.
Aelin had so many reasons why she couldn’t give Rowan a real chance, but she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Actually, she could remember, they just felt… small.
Too bad she was too late.
“And you never thought to move back here? Being a vet and all?”
Rowan sipped his wine. “I’ve lived in the city since I was a teenager, my whole life’s there. But I visit a lot.”
“And your cousins?”
“Not as much, but Yulemas is always here.” He cocked his head, his expression shifting as he grinned at her. “Though the company is usually much less good-looking.”
Aelin blinked. She stared at the glass of wine. It was her second, and Aelin knew her limits. She wasn’t even tipsy. It couldn’t be.
“Rowan Whitethorn… are you flirting with me?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying for a while.” A pause. “Is it working?”
Wow. She looked around, mind racing and empty at the same time. A turned-off TV. Potted plants with fairy lights on. A mistletoe. Gifts under a tree.
Rowan was flirting with her.
Rowan, Maisie’s new “bestest friend”. Kind, attentive Rowan who remembered her favorite wine and looked as delicious as the Focaccia bread he stole from the kitchen for her.
Rowan, who seemed to give her a second chance even when she didn’t deserve it.
“It’s working, yeah.”
He didn’t dare say a word after her response, and neither did she. He leaned forward, barely blinking as he tried to meet her eye.
Aelin needed to say something. She wanted to say something else, but it was hard to do it while she felt her old resolutions shatter like a wall of glass.
Going on shitty date after shitty date so she could find someone reasonably good, until something happened and she had to go back to the stream of shitty dates? No, meeting new people was a hard no for now.
But it was different when she had already met someone, right? Aelin wasn’t ready to give dating a chance, but she was more than willing to give Rowan a chance.
She got up and tugged Rowan’s hand.
“What?”
Aelin tugged on it again, so he got up from the couch too. Wordlessly, she led him to a spot right under the beam that divided the living room and the hallway.
She pointed at the mistletoe above them. “Oh, look.”
“Wow.”
“I definitely didn’t see that and drag you here.”
“And my mother definitely didn’t fill the house with mistletoes tonight because she’s in love with you and Maisie.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied.
“So surprising.”
“Shocking.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“Absolu—”
Rowan pulled their lips together, cupping her face with both hands while she wrapped her arms around him. Their lips brushed together, and it was almost unfair how soft he felt. He gently nipped hers so Aelin would open up to him, and the kiss was sweet and hungry at the same time. His hands traveled down her neck and arms, making her shiver, until he reached her waist and tugged her closer.
Well, fuck. If Aelin didn’t have any doubts about giving this a chance anymore, she didn’t know what to call it now. A negative amount of doubts? Anyway, her mind was jello. Aelin couldn’t know where this was going, but she knew she’d let it happen now. No more holding back.
Rowan broke the kiss and put their foreheads together, breathlessly breathing her in with closed eyes.
“If I ask you out on another date, will you show up this time?”
“Yes,” Aelin said, right before her parted lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “And I might even delete Tinder, depending on how large your coffee order is.”
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Back to Orynth {Rowan x Aelin}
Written with @snelbz
Rowaelin. Canon. The castle in Orynth. NSFW.
Based on prompt: Rowaelin mutual masturbation fic, but then they just can’t keep their hands off each other and they fuck. But in canon. Not AU. by anonymous.
Word Count: 4,166
A/N: We've decided to take a little bit of time and post more OS! We have a very long list that we're set on tackling, and although we do a lot of AUs, I like that we started with one in canon. We hope you enjoy!
WARNING: NSFW. 18+ ONLY. The following story contains descriptions of sex. No one under 18 should continue past the link.
Aelin stood on the balcony outside of her bedchamber and watched as snowflakes drifted toward the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter for Orynth, but she still couldn’t imagine that flying through the snowy winter was all that pleasant, no matter how much snow fell. Yet, she kept her eye on the horizon, expecting to see a familiar white-tailed hawk soaring through the falling flakes at any given moment.
Aelin was growing impatient. He'd better hurry.
It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured.
Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present.
The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.
Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself.
Territorial, over-protective fae bastard.
Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance.
He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.
Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”
“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached.
“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”
Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.
“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”
Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.”
Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”
“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.”
Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.”
“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony.
Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?”
“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”
Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”
“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?”
“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it.
“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Don’t we have people for that?”
“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”
Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom.
As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.
Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.
The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—
The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.
His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.
As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”
“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.
“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.”
“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.
Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.”
A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”
His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”
“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”
“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention.
“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.”
She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.
Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably.
“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”
“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.”
“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”
A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”
As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.”
Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core.
“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.”
“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown.
Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”
Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”
There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game.
She would give him a show until he was begging.
Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”
His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs.
Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment.
“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased.
“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him.
He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.
Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing.
How long he could go without completely losing his shit.
She wanted him completely unleashed.
Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.
That suited her just fine.
Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.
Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.
Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.
Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.
“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.
Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.”
She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”
“Then you can’t touch me.”
And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.
Much too far for her liking.
He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast.
His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked.
Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief.
Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.
“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.
Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”
Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.
She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.
“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.
“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.
“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.”
Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”
Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips. “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”
Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”
Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”
There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.
That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.
Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.
Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.
Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again.
Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.
She loved him like this.
Completely unhinged.
Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires.
All of it, only for her.
The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin.
Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him.
It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.
His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.
A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.
“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.
“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.
She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”
Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.
“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.
“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”
“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.
She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”
Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.
Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes.
They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body.
They remained in that bed together all night, intertwined and connected, and stayed there until the following night came.
#rowaelin#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#sjm#sjm fanfiction#snacmc collab#oneshot#tog#tog fanfic#throne of glass#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#canon#fanfics#snacmc answers prompts
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Trust Me, it'll be Fun
Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn
“It’s just a spooky clock chiming at the incorrect time while all the lights are off and strange footsteps are creeping up the stairs, in a house that won’t let us leave.”
Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection
Halloween Prompts
2053 words
*****
Whoever had the brilliant idea of sneaking into the decrepit, supposedly haunted house the weekend before Halloween needed some serious help. Aelin.
Whoever forgot to give out snack instructions that resulted in no one bringing any food or drinks with them needed to get it together. Rowan
Whoever raided the cabinets and found an old bottle of Crème de Menthe and thought it would be a good idea to pass it around needed to find something better to do with their time than cause chaos. Fenrys.
Whoever complained the entire time that they needed new friends needed to suck it. Lorcan.
And somehow, that was how they ended up separated – Aedion and Lysandra off to the kitchen, Fenrys gods-know-where, and Elide and Lorcan finally joining Aelin and Rowan in the foyer, arguing about leaving or staying. The front door was open and she could see the steps leading down to the path outside.
“Fireheart, c’mon, can we just call it a night?” Rowan sighed, crossing his arms. “We’ve been here for hours now, it's just an old house. There’s nothing spooky about it other than the fact that it's falling apart.”
“Rowan, we said we would spend the night here.” She argued half-heartedly.
He huffed, rolling his eyes. “How are we supposed to stay here all night with no food or water?”
Laughing, Aelin stepped closer and rested her hands on his crossed arms. “You say that like we're stranded on some desert island.”
“At least on an island, we wouldn’t have to hear your cousin and Lysandra making out in the next room.”
“My cousin,” she scoffed, “your friend is only ‘my cousin’ he annoys you.”
The sounds from the next room came again and she winced as Rowan’s brows shot up in vindication.
“I’m with Rowan,” Elide spoke up, walking toward the couple with her fiancé a step behind her. “Let’s just go.”
“Really?” Aelin spun towards her friend who shrugged. “You too?”
“I didn’t even really want to come.”
“What? Why did you then?” the blonde asked curiously.
“Because you’re my friend,” Elide laughed and bumped her shoulder with Aelin’s. “And I thought you might die otherwise and I needed to see you in your last moments to give you a passable eulogy.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Aelin smiled, ignoring the sound of Lorcan scoffing. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I did.” Elide snorted. “And you said trust me, it’ll be fun!”
“Famous last words,” Rowan muttered, rolling his eyes and leaning against the wall next to Lorcan.
“I’m sorry El,” she really did look it. “I get ramped up with Halloween.”
“I know, babes,” her friend patted her arm with a small smile, “I know.”
“Are we leaving or not?” Lorcan cut it, earning a glare form Aelin and an eyeroll for Elide.
“Fine,” Aelin huffed. “But I’m doing this for Elide, not for you Salvaterre.”
“Goody,” he deadpanned.
She went to walk out the door but paused at the top of the stairs. There was something that she couldn’t put her finger on…
“Something’s blocking the porch,” Aelin said.
Elide stared at her. “What do you mean something’s blocking the porch?”
A gust of wind blew the door shut behind her and Aelin whipped around at the sound, backing up until her back hit Rowan’s chest.
“I mean,” she explained, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing warily around the old house. “I tried to walk down the porch steps and I couldn’t.”
“What? You suddenly forgot how to walk down stairs, Galathynius?” Lorcan laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and letting his head hit the wood.
“No, you little shit—” she whirled on him, pointing a finger.
Rowan stepped in between them before they could get any closer to each other. Aelin shook off her boyfriend’s exasperated stare and tried explaining again.
“What I mean is that I tried to leave this house, and something stopped me,” she looked around at her friends and stressed, “like I physically couldn’t get to the bottom of the stairs.”
Elide forced out a weak laugh. “Ha ha, okay, very funny. You got me. Now can we cut it out and leave?” She stepped closer to Lorcan.
Aelin met her gaze and repeated, “I’m not kidding.”
“I may be a wimp when it comes to Halloween, but I’m not an idiot.” The smaller girl huffed. “You’re really playing up the whole haunted house thing, and you know what? Props to you. You did good.” She began a slow clap that brought a smirk to Lorcan’s face. “Now drop it.”
Rowan walked past them straight for the door and pulled on the door handle. The wood creaked against the effort.
“Cut it out, Whitethorn,” Lorcan griped when the door didn’t budge.
“Uh…” Rowan tried again, this time visibly straining as he pulled on the old door. “It’s not me.”
“Fucking hell.” Lorcan gritted out, slotting Elide next to Aelin as he took Rowan’s place and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. He gripped the handle and used his entire body weight, but it didn’t move.
“What the fuck?”
*****
“’Let’s go to a haunted house’ they said, ‘It's Halloween’ they said,” Aelin began pacing around the hall. “’It’ll be fun’, they said.”
“Don’t you dare pretend like you weren’t the one saying those things,” Aedion barked at her. He and Lysandra found their way back to the front hall when they heard their friends’ yelling.
“Oh, shut up,” she waved off her cousin and tried to think.
“Has anyone tried any of the other doors?” Lysandra asked. “Or windows, or whatever?”
“Okay,” Aelin perked up. “Lys and Aedion take the second floor, Rowan and I will search this floor, and Ellie, you and your guard dog take the attic.”
“Oh fuck no!” Elide protested. “You take the creepy attic, Lorcan and I will take the ground floor.”
“Not gonna correct the guard dog thing?” Rowan smirked at his friend. All he got back was a deadpan glare.
“Fine!” Aelin threw her hands up. “You two take this floor; Rowan and I have the attic.”
“Why are we looking in the attic at all?” Rowan asked, crossing his arms. “Even if there is a window, and even if we can get it open, it would still be three stories up and way too dangerous to escape from.”
Everyone stared at him, blinking, while he tried to find someone to see his point. Finally, Aelin huffed, “This is no time for common sense, Ro.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face and grumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Okay!” Elide chirped, looking a little manic. “We each take a floor, look for anything that can help, and we meet back here in twenty minutes, yeah?”
A chorus of yeahs and okays and I’m going to kill you when we get out of here, Galathynius echoed throughout the group.
“And for the love of god,” Rowan pleaded, “somebody fucking find Moonbeam.”
They all split up, taking a different section of the house. Aelin and Rowan took their time walking up the stairs to the attic, each shift in the wood sending nerves rocketing through them. When they got to the top, they shared a look before Aelin pressed her hand to the door and pushed, letting in swing in and immediately outlining the silhouette of a figure staring right at them.
Three different screams echoed in the small hallway, each higher pitched than the last.
“Stop hitting me!” Fenrys shrieked under the barrage of Aelin’s fists. At the sound of his voice, Aelin pulled back, heart racing and chest heaving, finally shining the flashlight they’d grabbed in her friend’s face.
“Fenrys?!” she hissed, “You almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing up here?”
She could feel Rowan’s erratic heart beating from where her back met his chest, as Fenrys stared at the pair like they were the crazy ones.
“Looking for these,” he lifted his hands and she saw the two bottles he was holding. “I knew a place like this would have more booze hidden around.”
“And you thought they’d be in the attic?” Rowan asked incredulously.
“Obviously,” Fenrys rolled his eyes. “And they were, so,” he shrugged.
“Gods, whatever,” Aelin pushed passed the blond and walked further into the dark and dusty room. A single swinging light bulb illuminated the space as the three of them looked around.
“What are you two doing up here?” Fenrys shot back.
“Looking for a way out,” Rowan didn’t elaborate.
Snorting, Fenrys mimicked, “And you thought you’d find it in the attic?”
Before either of them could reply, a loud chime sounded from the dilapidated grandfather clock that was pushed against a far wall. They whirled around. Aelin ended up in front of both guys, her fists raised while Rowan reached for the closest weapon he could find and Fenrys cradled the bottle of whiskey to his chest.
They had barely had a chance to wonder how a broken clock was chiming when they heard the stairs begin to creak.
“What are you gonna do, Whitethorn?” Fenrys hissed, “Sweep a ghost to death?”
Risking a glance behind her, Aelin saw Rowan clutching a broom between his hands and gripping it like a baseball bat. She elbowed Fenrys and hissed, “A ghost is already dead, dumbass.”
“Hey,” he hissed back. “Don’t call me a dumbass what it was your dumb ass that got all of our dumb asses here in the first place, dumbass.”
“Will you please stop saying dumbass?” Rowan hissed.
Aelin shot a triumphant look at Fenrys. “Yeah, dumbass.”
“For fucks sake…”
The lone lightbulb began flickering, immediately shutting all of them up. They could still hear the stairs creaking, the sound getting closer and closer every second.
“We’re going to die,” Fenrys breathed.
“It’s fine,” Aelin’s voice came out tinny and shaking.
“The fuck you mean it's fine?!”
“It’s fine,” she said again in that same choked squeak. “It’s just a spooky clock chiming at the incorrect time while all the lights are off and strange footsteps are creeping up the stairs, in a house that won’t let us leave.”
She felt both sets of eyes land on her and knew that if she looked at either man they would be looking at her as if she had lost her mind.
“How. Are. You. So. Calm?”
She forced a laugh, but it sounded more like a strained grunt. “Oh, because, none of this is real.”
“Uh,” Rowan’s voice came from her right, “It’s very real.”
“No,” she repeated, clearing her through and drawing in a breath. “You see, if it were real then you would see a Me-shaped hole in that door. But we can’t leave this house, which means I can’t escape, which means that it isn’t real.”
There was a beat of silence before Fenrys said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been listening to myself speak for twenty-five years.”
Rowan breathed, “Your denial both impresses and astounds me.”
“Thank you,” she breathed just as quietly. Glancing quickly between them, she asked, “Run?”
“Run.” Rowan nodded.
Another best passed and the three of them raced down the steps, screaming at whoever was coming towards them. They made it to the main floor before realizing they hadn’t run into anyone on their way down.
*****
The twenty-four-hour diner’s fluorescent lights lit up the group of seven friends who were huddled together in a booth, silently replaying the night's events in their heads.
“So,” Elide’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing, her soft voice sounding almost obscenely loud in the near-empty diner, “What did we learn tonight?”
Groans echoed around the table.
Aedion spoke up first, “Run if you ever hear Aelin say, ‘Trust me, it’ll be fun.’”
A quiet fuck you followed but was drowned out by Lysandra who added, trailing a finger down the side of her water glass following a drop of condensation as it hit the table. “Crème de Menthe and Absinthe look way too similar. Way. Too. Similar.”
“When a door won’t open it's probably a Push, and not being supernaturally barricaded by ghosts,” Rowan groaned.
“That next time we do this, we better have snacks,” Aelin mumbled, staring a hole into the table.
“Next time?!”
*******
@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading
#rowaelin#aelin x rowan#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fic#throne of glass#tog#rowaelin fluff#rowaelin au#rowaelin fanfiction#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin oneshot#halloween fics#halloween#halloween au#halloween prompts#haunted house#aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn
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What could of been… —TOG (canon) AU
Stand-alone fic | Warnings: angst | Rowan x Aelin
…
What if Rowan had known Lyria was pregnant and didn’t go of to war?
Fenrys would have most likely trained Celaena, not Rowan.
Would Celaena be the person she is in KOA?
…
Note: this is an AU this isn’t in the books.
Masterlist
“Rowan! We’re ready!” Lyria’s called from the entryway pulling him back into reality from where he’d been lost in thought. “Coming love!” He echoed back, walking out of the shared bedroom to his wife and their youngest daughter, they were going out to Mistward to visit Emrys and malakai for a party. They were celebrating something along the lines of peace. Since Wendlyn hadn’t been in any conflicts which Rowan was grateful for as that meant Rowan got to spend more time with his family, His daughter Maisie—only eight—had not been pleased at the idea of going out but had begrudgingly accepted after the promise of good food.
He kissed his mates cheek before grabbing his jacket and walking out the door his family trailing behind, he was going to be meeting with Fenrys to see how he was going with the task their queen had given him.
He was tasked with training a girl to control,wield and hone her magic. And not to mention shift. Though from what Fenrys had said the girl was a real spitfire. He knew that because Fenrys had been ranting non stop about her for two hours straight while drinking a monumental amount of ale and then passing out onto Lorcan, he’d feel bad for the male if he wasn’t such a bastard.
Soon enough they were passing through the gates of Mistward heading for a particular building, walking through the door and discarding his jacket on the nearest hanger before doing the same for his mate, kissing her cheek and ruffling Maisie’s hair before going to greet Emrys.
…
Celaena was grateful for no training today so were her limbs, the gods new they were on the brink of death. She’s been staring at the ceiling on her pathetic excuse of a bed when Fenrys had walked in. She turned her head to the side and stared at him intensely, annoyed that he had interrupted her daily existence check session.
Fenrys rightfully looked a little intimidated but brushed it of as he sat down on the bed next to her. She hated that about him, he was so carefree.
“So…there’s a little party going on in an hour and you’re kind of required to be there” he said. Great just great, she had to go socialise with some fae, how better could her day get?
She’d been getting dirty looks from all the Fae since she’d arrived, if they didn’t stop soon she’d surely end up burning them to a crisp and as much as she wanted to do that. She couldn’t.
She needed to go to Doranelle and learn everything about the wyrd keys and the Valg as she could, if she killed somebody her majesty Maeve would not be very pleased. “Earth to Elentiya you there?” Fenrys voice pulling her from her thoughts.
“Yeah I’m here” She answered, “Right, I want you to meet one of my friends.”
“Very well” she replied blankly,
Fenrys led her through the crowds of Demi and full blooded Fae and Faeries—even a few humans—all together, no fighting no conflicts. Just co existing for this one particular night.
After walking through the crowd for what felt like hours, they finally found Fenrys friends.
“Celaena I’d like you to meet my good friend Rowan and his mate Lyria, Rowan, Lyria this is Elentiya”
She looked to the Fae finding them already staring at her, awkward, the man—Rowan was beautiful really, with long white hair and dazzling emerald eyes she couldn’t help gaze into—but she wasn’t interested in men—males right now, the female, Lyria. Was a stunning woman, with a head of brown hair adorned with pearls, cascading down her shoulders and gold-brown eyes that reminded her of the freshest honey. She wasn’t a very envious woman but even she couldn’t help feeling jealous of such beauty, it had her looking away to the child clutching her mothers frilly pink dress, the girl couldn’t of been older than ten, her shoulder length light brown hair adorned with lime green bows and crystal clear gems, she was a natural beauty that even Celaena couldn’t help notice. “And this is our youngest daughter Maisie.” Lyria said, even her voice was beautiful, it was unfair really.
“It’s lovely to meet you three” Celaena said trying to sound as polite as possible, even mustering up the energy for a smile, she didn’t bother to think about how dirty her teeth must be or be embarrassed by them. The gods knew she probably looked like she was half dead, she didn’t care. Maybe a few months ago she would’ve but not now. She tried not to linger on the thoughts of if she’d ever care about her looks again.
“Celaena, I hear you are training. May I ask what for?” Rowan asked
Rowan worked for Maeve so there was no point in lying about it, besides Fenrys would call her out for the lie anyway. “I’m trying to get into Doranelle, Her Majesty Maeve insists I learn to wield my…gifts if I want to receive passage to her city.”
“What magic do you have? How much?” Lyria inquired. Almost looking bored with her. Did she not know it was rude to ask about those kind of things?
“Uh, fire magic. I have. Uhm just a small amount.” Celaena was getting uncomfortable with these questions, the female had no business knowing about her magic. She was getting ready to bolt when Rowan said, “well I won’t keep you here all night, I want to greet some old friends, if you’ll excuse us.” —practically dragging his wife away—She could’ve kissed the man for that, he most likely saw her getting uncomfortable. “Very well, it was lovely meeting you guys” she said. They were walking away when Lyria turned and gave her a dirty look. What the hell was that about? She hadn’t been that rude, for a matter of fact she’d been downright delightful.
She tried not to take it to personally as she made her way to the drinks table, grabbing a bottle of faerie wine as she walked over to a shady spot, swigging from the bottle as she surveyed everyone. The taste of the wine was a welcoming sensation as it slid down her throat. She was going to have a mad headache tomorrow but it was a small price to pay for the reprieve it brought.
Two hours and three bottles later Celaena was ready to leave, She didn’t remember why she’d even came in the first place, then again after all the wine she’d had she couldn’t remember much of anything. She was figuring out if she should just leave the bottles of faerie wine where they were or discard them somewhere appropriate when she saw Rowan make his way toward her. Shit? She didn’t have time to wonder if that was a bad thing as he was already in front of her, he had no business being that fast. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a moment?” He said, “yeah sure” she answered back.
When they were away from everyone he turned to her, his beautiful eyes catching in the fae lights making them shine a bright emerald. She couldn’t help but be entranced in their beauty. He broke the silence first, “I’m sorry about my mate earlier, it was rude to ask such personal questions like that, I had a talk to her about it. I can get her to apologise if that’s what you want.” the idea of making the female apologise was appealing but she’d be a decent person today. “No it’s Alright, if I was her I most likely would’ve asked the same thing, there is no need to make anyone apologise.” She said, Celaena wondered why she was in such a good mood, maybe it was the wine or the dazzling male in front of her, she could get drunk off looking into his eyes all day, that’d be better than any wine. Why was she so..attracted to him? He had a mate and a child for gods sake she couldn’t be like this.
“Thank you for being so understanding Celaena.” He echoed back, god, the way he’d said her name—her alias— she wondered what it’d be like to have him say her name—her real name—to wake up next to him every day,to bear his children—She shut those thoughts away so far that they could only escape in her dreams, her wicked, cruel dreams. Filled with screams of beloved friends—and some of her own—of brown hair that shined in the sun, of sun kissed skin, bloody beds and tables, The scent of lotus and lavender. She shivered at the thoughts. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, good luck on getting to Doranelle.” Rowan said before he walked back into the crowd—back to that mate of his, and child—She didn’t understand why this was bothering her so much, she didn’t even know his last name and yet she felt like she could, and would. lay down her life for him.
She walked back to her room and plopped down on her bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. —To try and deter the cold— as she tried to drift off to sleep. Ignoring that golden threaded feeling blooming in her chest.
Finally the Sandman came for her and she fell into a dream filled slumber, dreams full of sparkling green eyes and a head full of silver hair lying beneath a crown of blue flames…
The End.
»Bonus chapter«
~~~~~~
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#throne of glass#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver galathynius#aelin galathynius#books#sarah j maas#aelin x rowan#heir of fire#sarah j mass#fantasy#oneshot#celaena sardothien
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MY ONE SHOTS AND FANFICS
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Here are my Imagines organized, easier to find for you and for me. Welcome to my head, a place where you’re not going to want to be for long but in a tiny piece of time it’s cool sometimes. You’ll find here the craziest ideas that came from the back of my mind or the other people ones.
I hope you guys enjoy and if you want to request something I finally got to put everything open so feel free to give me some ideas of what or who to write, your idea is very welcome and I’d appreciate a lot. You can use the ask button in somewhere of my account or dm me with your idea if you feel better.
Here are some of the books that I’ve read and people that I may write about because I know their personalities and stuff. I’ll be upgrading since I’m going to read more.
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───── A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES
Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan, Feyre Archeron, Nesta Archeron, and Elain Archeron.
───── THRONE OF GLASS
Dorian Havilliard, and Chaol Westfall.
───── BIRTHDAY GIRL
Pike Lawson.
───── SERPENT AND DOVES
Reid Diggory, and Louise Le Blanc. (As a couple or just separately)
───── CARAVAL
Scarlett Dragna, and Julian Santos. (As a couple or just separately)
───── ADDICTED/CALLOWAY SISTER SERIES
Loren Hale, Connor Cobalt, and Ryke Meadows
───── THE LAST OF US
Joel Miller.
───── ROYAL ELITE
Ronan Astor, Astrid Clifford, and Levi King. (I can try writing for Aiden)
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STORIES I'VE ALREADY
Stories I’ve already written.
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───── A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES
Headcannon with the Bat Boys.
How they’re in bed.
Cassian One Shots.
Not just friends.
Teasings.
Mind going back to you.
Rhysand's sister.
Not mates.
Mor One Shots.
Preparing to meet the Inner Circle.
Azriel One Shots.
After mission sex (18+)
Regret.
Mornings with him.
Rhysand One Shots.
Relationship with Tamlin’s daughter.
Lucien Vanserra.
Braiding his hair.
───── SIX OF CROWS
Kaz Brekker One Shots.
Bruised.
Seriously injured.
Kaz’s first kiss.
───── THRONE OF GLASS
Chaol Westfall One Shots.
I love you.
───── SIX OF CROWS
Scarlian One Shots.
I always have been when it comes to you.
───── THE LAST OF US
Joel Miller One Shots.
I was supposed to take care of you.
Biggest desire.
───── ADDICTED/CALLOWAY SISTERS SERIES
Loren Hale One Shots.
Showering Together.
───── CARAVAL
Scarlian One Shots.
Scarlett's first time.
───── ROYAL ELITE
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I’m trying to improve my reading list so that I can make more Imagines about other people. Thank you, guys, so much for your attention, I hope you have a great day and that you achieve anything you want. See you, bye.
Prompts Link
#cassian imagine#azriel x reader#six of crows#six of crows imagine#kaz brekker x reader#cassian acotar#cassian x reader#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#caraval imagines#scarlett x julian#addicted x reader#throne of glass x reader#rhysand x reader#feyre archeron x reader#feyre x reader#one shot#imagines#oneshot#masterlist#serpent and dove x reader#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#loren hale x reader#royal elite#royal elite series#ronan astor#levi king#astrid clifford
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A simple drink
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEIA! 🥳 @leiawritesstories
May your birthday be amazing and incredible and full of magnificent stories!
Here's a little Rowaelin oneshot for you!
A simple drink
It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. The morning had started off fairly well, but when Rowan was picking up his usual coffee order, someone had crashed into him making his cup fly and spill its contents right on Rowan’s shirt. Of course he had to run back home and change. His apartment was on the opposite way from the coffee shop, so this detour made him quite remarkably late for work.
At the office Rowan had first managed to break the scanner while trying to get an important signed document copied. He tried to turn the machine off and on again, knowing that would be the first instruction their tech help would give him, but somehow that small, common function managed to mess up the settings of the machine. Rowan found himself staring at the tiny touch screen which displayed something that could very well be hieroglyphs to him.
His day of hell was just beginning. He’d been working on a presentation for months, knowing they were supposed to receive foreign visitors from a partner company that day. His boss Maeve was supposed to go over the presentation before actually presenting it to their guests, but the email attachment wouldn’t work and his boss couldn’t get it to open. Rowan then decided to just simply transfer it to a thumb drive and give it to Maeve. Somehow the entire presentation then vanished, making Rowan panic.
His boss was not happy, which was how Rowan had ended up improvising a speech to the group of visitors. There was just one major problem with that; Rowan was not good with words, strange people or performing, so he pretty much tanked the entire speech. Trying to save the last remnants of his dignity, he tried to leave the conference room quietly. Only to end up face flat on the floor with the coffee cart on its side and the snacks rolling all over the hallway. The snacks that were meant for their visitors.
With the day not even halfway through, Rowan was completely done with the day. He just wanted to go for a nice, calm drink before going home and forgetting about the horrible day. Luckily the rest of his work went by without any major issues, only a couple of scheduling issues. And a virus on his office computer, which had been attached to an email sent by his friend and colleague, Fenrys, who just wanted to improve his friend's mood. Rowan did not find the dancing, multiplying penises on his desktop funny. In fact, he was mortified when he - once again - had to call the tech help department to come get rid of the virus.
Fenrys seemed to realise his mistake, and wanted to make it up by offering Rowan a drink after work. They made plans to meet up at their favorite bar once they had had a chance to change out of the stuffy work clothes and into something more fitting. Nothing could go wrong with going out for a simple drink, right?
Oh, how wrong Rowan was. Going out was not a bad thing in itself; what made it a bad thing was the fact that he was now accidentally crashing a private birthday party. Rowan did not like surprising situations or meeting with new people - strangers made him nervous - so this was practically a nightmare for him. Right from the moment he stepped inside the bar with Fenrys, they had been pulled along, party hats strapped on both of their heads and some disgusting colorful shots handed to them. Fenrys happily threw his shot down his throat, but Rowan just stared at the purple concoction with a frown, before stating that it looked unfit for human consumption.
Of course his night of horror didn’t end there; how he ended up helping the birthday girl blow out the candles was a complete mystery to him as well. One minute he was trying to remove his party hat, the next a random leggy blonde was pulling him towards the middle of the pile of people, screaming it was time for cake. Keeping his hand in hers, she stood behind the cake singing the birthday song along with everyone else, before saying make a wish and blowing out the small flickering flames. Rowan was getting more and more confused, but not wanting to make a big deal out of himself, he decided to play along until he could leave.
Finally finding the perfect time to detach himself from the party group, Rowan ordered a whiskey from the bartender before successfully hiding himself in a dark corner where he could still see everyone around. He was exhausted after being so social, and he had been waiting for this glass of whiskey for the entire day. It was just him and the golden brown drink in front of him, with the party sounds still going strong in the background.
“I thought the birthday hero is supposed to be at the party instead of hiding from the guests,” a voice interrupted Rowan’s thoughts. Lifting his gaze up, he noticed the same leggy blonde who had pulled him along to the main part of a birthday celebration. Rowan quirked a brow before responding.
“I did not force you to leave your party, did I? I just wanted to enjoy a nice glass of whiskey.”
“Wait- what? My party? I thought-,” the woman in front of him scrunched up her face. “I thought we were celebrating your birthday.”
“No, I’m pretty sure my friend and I crashed your birthday celebration,” Rowan let out a small laugh.
“Okay, so, wait- if it isn’t your birthday, and it definitely isn’t mine… then… did we just hijack someone’s birthday celebration? I totally thought it was your party and I tried to get you to blow out the candles. Oh my gods, this is hilarious and also now I understand why you stood there so awkwardly. I’m sorry,” the blonde burst out laughing. Rowan couldn’t help but join in - this was definitely an unexpected turn of events.
“Maybe we should get out before they realise what happened and who stole the thunder from someone else,” the woman suggested and for the first time in his life, Rowan didn’t feel awkward with a stranger, so he found himself nodding before throwing a few bills on the table. Getting up, they walked to the coat room and ever the gentleman, he helped the blonde put on her coat.
“Oh, by the way, my name is Aelin. Thought it would be nice to introduce myself to my partner-in-crime,” she said when they were outside.
“Rowan. Can’t say it was a pleasure to be involved in such a horrendous crime, but I did enjoy meeting you,” Rowan flirted, much to the amusement of Aelin, who let out a loud and melodious laugh at his comment.
“Well, Rowan, are you ready for an adventure? I’m assuming you’re available for some more criminal acts, we can’t just leave it on stealing some stranger’s birthday wish,” Aelin asked with a mischievous tone and a smile that told him she was up to no good.
“Under normal circumstances, I might be tempted to say no. However, this day has already been so weird, I don’t think there’s anything that could possibly make it any worse,” Rowan stated, not yet aware just how much his night was about to change. The smirk he had in response made him wonder if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, or perhaps the best decision by going along with whatever Aelin was planning.
--
Tags: @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @leiawritesstories @aelinchocolatelover @backtobl4ck @wesupremeginger @goddess-aelin @hiimheresworld @swankii-art-teacher
#happy birthday Leia#all the best for you#rowaelin oneshot#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#throne of glass fanfiction#tog fic#rowaelin fanfiction#tog fanfic#throne of glass#my writing#aelin galathynius
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My Light, My Strength
Most Romance Week prompts will be attached to a romantic song.
Day 2: Faith Hill's There You'll Be
SJMRW Prompt: Love Languages
Ship: Rowaelin
Summary: Coming home from an exhausting day of delegations and and paperwork, the last thing Aelin wants to do is follow her mate into the main town for his surprise. The gift in store, simple as it may be, turns out to be a memory she'll cherish for her next thousand years with Rowan.
Finally. Silence finally greeted me as my last attendant left the office with my signature in hand. Finally, I could go home to my mate. I could go home to a quiet dinner and a hot bath and a warm bed. Though our efforts to rebuild the kingdom left us with little time and energy for certain types of intimacy, I knew I could at least count on Rowan to hold me night after night.
But doubt reared it's head as I froze at my bedroom threshold, surprised to find my mate dressed in nice, yet casual clothes. He was clearly ready to head out, rather than dine in the privacy of our room. "Where are you off to?"
"We are off to your surprise."
I sighed, trying to politely decline leaving the castle without making him think I was ungrateful to his effort in whatever he had planned for the night. "Rowan, can it wait until tomorrow? Or another day I don't have a thousand things to do."
"You're a young queen rebuilding a conquered country, Aelin. You'll always have a thousand things to do. That's why we have to make time." He kissed my forehead. "Come on. I promise you'll love it." Still, I hesitated. He was clearly dying to show me whatever his plotting had amounted to. "Two hours,” he pressed. When had things gotten so dismal my mate was bargaining time to take me on a date? “We'll be home before the stars greet us, I promise."
I nodded. "Two hours, Whitethorn."
He grinned. "You're dressed to impress, Fireheart. Go change into what I laid out. We're going casual tonight.”
~~~~~
Twenty minutes later I was dressed in flats and a summer dress, my pinned hair let loose to flow down my back, rustled by the summer evening's breeze. Passing through the town square, Rowan guided me a bit further, finally stopping before a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant I hadn't seen in over a decade.
My exhaustion faded to awe. "Rowan, how did you—" My chest tightened. "The last time I was here I was with my mother. She'd take Aedion and I into town in the mornings. We always ended with lunch here."
"Your cousin's shared a story or two from your childhood. I know how stressed you've been lately. I thought getting away from the politics and back to your people may help.”
Because Terrasen was a country that thrives beyond the castle walls. I was queen to more than snobbish lords looking for a vulnerability in my early reign.
Guilt settled in and I turned my back to the restaurant. “Three months. I’ve been so busy proving I could navigate official matters, I’ve barely considered… Thought dead for a decade, and after winning the war, their consort greeted them before their queen.”
“We understand.” I whipped back around, a familiar woman standing in the shop entrance. The human restaurant owner was in her mid-forties now, but she’d hardly changed from the woman I remembered. “It seems congratulations are in order.”
“Amelie.”
“Hello, Aelin.”
I swallowed, hugging her tightly. She had adored Aedion and I those years ago, and I would never forget her kindness. Maybe it was an extra spoonful of dessert for Aedion and I. Other times we earned the treat of watching the kitchen at work. All were moments I treasuered and never imagined I'd find again.
“Sometimes order must be found before all else. What matters is that you’re here now.” She pulled back, pride in her eyes. “You’ve grown up.”
I chuckled. “You could say that.”
“Come on then. Your mate’s reserved a table for you.”
Even in the evenings the town was buzzing. Few people had stopped to gawk or request my attention as Rowan and I walked here, but here in the little family business… Some seemed wary, others welcoming, and some were just downright stunned. I offered a warm smile, my attention dragged away at the light scrape of my chair on the tile floor.
"Relax, Fireheart."
The endearment instantly soothed my nerves, the tension in my shoulders easing as my mate seated me before moving around the table. Eyes slipped away and I let the quaint charm of the place—the warm paint choice, the smell of freshly cooked meat and vegetables, the chatter and music from the next street—wash over me.
This was my childhood beyond the castle. And however much or little of its history my mate had gathered, sitting here for the first time in over a decade with him was… healing.
An appetizer tray and house wine was brought to the table before we were left to choose our meal. “What are you thinking, Aelin?”
There was something tender in his tone telling me he wasn’t asking about what I had in mind for my order. “I’m thinking it’s a miracle.”
“That we made it?”
I smirked. “It’s a miracle, Rowan, that we went from being at each others throats to you surprising me with a chance to forget things for a few moments. We’ve come a long way since Wendlyn. And not just geographically.”
He smiled. “Save business for tomorrow, Fireheart.”
“No.” He sighed. “Tomorrow, I won’t even think of politics and parties.” I watched worry morph to pride and felt my smile grow to match his. “Tomorrow, Rowan, I greet my people.”
~~~~~
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Throne of Glass: Darker Depths
Originally posted on August 3, 2022 on AO3
Summary: When Aedion Ashryver decided to seduce Dorian, neither of them thought through the ramifications of the King finding out. Canon-Divergent AU.
Warnings: Dark, Abuse, Threats of Violence, Implied Mind Control, Bigotry, small reference to bestiality (as part of that bigotry)
XX
Of all the things Dorian had expected to happen partway through sex with Aedion Ashryver, guards in the black-on-black of his father’s favored crashing into the room and tearing them apart wasn’t one of them. His father striding in, glaring in disgust, was certainly not.
“Get dressed,” he ordered, and Aedion and Dorian both scrambled to obey. “What filth did you convince the prince to participate in, Ashryver?”
“I simply wished to experience both a man and a Fae, your majesty, and he was obviously the closest of the latter I had access to,” Dorian stated, drawing the King’s attention from Aedion.
He stood still for the first blow, a backhand across his right cheek, but staggered from the second, which hit his left. A ring caught his skin, tearing it, and his face throbbed in pain.
“Did you also take your dogs in their pens for the experience?” the King sneered.
Dorian stared at the ground, but couldn’t help replying in near equal hostility, “No, your majesty, I respect my dogs too much for such things.”
There was a beat of silence, then his father’s hand was in his hair, tilting Dorian’s face up with far more gentleness than he’d shown yet. “Oh, my clever boy, what am I to do with you?” the King murmured, calmer than Dorian expected him to be now.
His attention landed back on Aedion, his hand tightening in Dorian’s hair to the point where he almost cried out. “General. You’re now aware that…dallying with Prince Dorian is an unwise decision?”
The contrast in his father’s tone struck Dorian, his heated anger directed at Dorian himself was somehow far less intimidating than the coldness he showed now. He watched his father’s eyes move from Aedion’s face, down to his hand, and back again, and Dorian was left wondering once more what the significance of the rings were.
“Yes, your Majesty.” Aedion’s gaze stayed fixed on the King, not even sparing Dorian a glance, and Dorian was gladdened for that, that Aedion wasn’t seeing the full extent of his humiliating position.
“Good. If I find out you’ve touched him in any way again, I will have you gelded. Now leave us, you will be accompanying Duke Perrington to Morath in the morning.”
Aedion did not need to be told twice. A coward, Dorian thought, but a reasonable one. A more honorable man wouldn’t have allowed Dorian to lie and be punished, but an honorable man would most likely be in a cell in the dungeon instead of returning to his room.
When the door shut behind Aedion, Dorian let out a slow breath, knowing that tensing up would only make whatever blows were to come hurt more.
His father released his hair, his other hand coming up so he was framing Dorians’ face in his grasp, tight enough to make him wince as he pressed on the bruises and cuts. “You know better than this. If you commit another such deplorable act, I will have you placed in a chastity belt until your marriage night and sell you off to whatever rich merchant bids the highest.”
Nodding as much as he could, horrified at the images that threat brought to mind, he replied, “I understand. I made a mistake.”
“If only you had half the ruthlessness of your brother or he had half your mind. Instead, my children are disappointments.”
Dorian winced. He hated how much the King could still emotionally harm him. It had been years since they were on good terms and even then the King would hurt Dorian seemingly on a whim. He’d convinced himself he didn’t care about his father’s regard, but he knew that was a lie.
“I’m sorry, father,” he whispered, glancing down in shame, waiting for a beating or another punishment.
Instead, his father’s hand returned to his hair, stroking through it. “Did you see Ashryver remove his ring?” he asked, jarring Dorian with the sudden change in topics.
He thought back to their nights together, Aedion’s hands running over him, his fingers treading where not even Dorian himself had touched before, and he gave a small nod, careful not to dislodge his father’s hand. “Yes, father.”
“A fake,” the King muttered, to Dorian’s confusion.
They stayed like that for a few minutes more, the King seemingly deep in thought and Dorian too paranoid to disrupt him. The touches, more like petting really, were nice, relaxing Dorian into what he hoped wasn’t a false sense of safety.
The King’s hand slowed, then was removed entirely, and he stepped away from Dorian with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll have a proper man found for you to experiment with and send him to your rooms.”
Dorian winced, but knew better than to deny the offer. He gave a deep bow and retreated, hearing his father calling for a few of his men as he left.
The man that came to his chambers that night was beautiful enough that Dorian’s breath caught at the sight of him. He had long blonde hair and alluring golden eyes the likes of which Dorian could not recall ever seeing. He was surprisingly haughty and self-assured for someone dealing with the Crown Prince, but Dorian assumed that was under the direction of the King and a way his father thought he might be punishing Dorian.
Dorian, though, found he definitely didn’t mind taking orders from another in this case. And the soft praises he received for doing so sustained him, pushed him to accept and allow more and more. He’d do whatever the man wanted from him if he’d keep saying how good and perfect Dorian was being.
The man stayed the whole night, doing things with Dorian’s body he’d never even read of, and leaving him a pile of blissed out satisfaction, covered in bruises and bite marks.
“What’s your name?” he rasped, throat still sore from the brutal way the man had taken his mouth earlier.
“Erawan.” The man dressed without a care, looking not the least bit exhausted by all their activity, then came over to the bed and caressed one of the marks he had left. “Keep being a good boy for the King and perhaps we’ll see each other again. I would most enjoy hearing you beg me by my name.”
And then he left, without even a word of how Dorian might find him again. That, too, had probably been ordered by his father, so he could better control Dorian. It was going to be insidiously effective.
“Erawan,” he rolled the name on his tongue, surprised by it.
What an odd name to claim, considering the history of it, but Dorian supposed it might be some courtesan in-joke he couldn’t hope to understand.
It didn’t matter what its origin was, however, because Dorian would be very willing to scream it for the man in the future.
XX
Original notes:
The King is like “ugh, my son is such a slut, I’m going to make sure he only fucks Valg from now on” and Erawan’s like “Let me, I am going to ruin that twink for anyone else.”
Also, Dorian really just meant he didn’t respect Aedion more than his hunting dogs, but the King thought he was being super racist and liked that.
I literally skimmed through a bunch of scenes with Dorian and the King and they basically never address each other by their titles/honorifics? I keep always wanting to have Dorian be formal and say "your majesty" and stuff.
Ummm and yeah the implication is that Aedion has a very bad no good time with Erawan in Morath after this.
#theme: dark#ship: erawan/dorian#ship: king of adarlan & dorian#ship: aedion/dorian#type: oneshot#fandom: throne of glass
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Catastrophic Blues
Written for @sjmromanceweek
Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)
I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol
Warnings: none?
Words: 2,2k
The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.
Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.
It was fine. She was fine.
It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.
But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.
How considerate of him.
But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.
Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?
The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.
A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.
“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.
Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”
He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”
Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.
Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”
He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”
Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.
Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.
It’s not like she cared, anyway.
Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone—including the lovebirds.
Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.
She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.
She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--
"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."
Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.
Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."
Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.
He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.
But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.
This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.
No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.
Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.
“…Right, Ace?”
Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”
Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”
“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”
Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.
And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.
The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.
Aelin wished she had stayed home.
But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.
Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.
He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.
Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.
Just like he used to do with her.
Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.
She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.
Breathe in.
She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.
Breathe out.
She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.
Breathe in.
She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.
Breathe out.
Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.
She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.
The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.
"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."
Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."
He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."
"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”
“I’m sure they are.”
“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”
He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."
Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.
"Not a chance. Spill."
He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.
"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."
Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"
He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"
Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.
A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."
Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”
“You did not!”
“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”
“Is this a threat?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”
“Obviously.”
“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”
“No drama, you said?”
“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”
“I sense drama.”
“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”
“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”
Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.
They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.
Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”
“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?
He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”
“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”
“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“
“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.
Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.
She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.
Aelin dug her own grave.
Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”
“And thoughtful.”
“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”
“He did not.”
“He did. And you know why.”
“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”
Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.
Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.
Her selfishness only went so far.
Read part 2 here
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500 words or less prompt: Elide walks in on Lorcan taking a bubble bath. There are candles.
A/N: There's something about fluff in a bathtub that just...gets to me. I hope you enjoy!
It was dark when Elide got home.
She had promised to be home hours ago but had to stay late at the bar. Her replacement had been running behind, their car battery dying, which led to Elide's early night off becoming just the same as every other night.
She came into the kitchen through the garage, seeing a cleaned plate on the counter. After looking in the fridge, she saw that Lorcan had made her a plate and set it in there after it was clear she wasn't coming home any time soon.
"Lor?"
He didn't answer.
The house was dark and silent, but his truck was in the garage so she knew he was home. After slipping off her shoes and hanging her keys on the hook, Elide made her way through the house. A candle was burning in the living room, and the t.v. was on but paused, halfway through a movie that Lorcan had apparently been watching.
"Lor?" she called again, in a sing-song voice. There was still no response as she began making her way upstairs. The house was old, each step creaking as she walked up the stairs. They'd gotten it cheap, as a fixer upper, and it was now the epitome of comfy and cozy.
As she made her way down the hallway, the softest of relaxing music filled the space.
Suddenly, Elide knew exactly where she would find him.
Through the master bedroom, Elide gently pushed open the door to the master bathroom and chuckled at the sight of Lorcan. His massive frame was submerged beneath a heap of bubbles in the tub. It smelled like lavender and vanilla; candles were strewn all around the bathroom. Soft, Celtic music played. Lorcan's eyes were shut.
Seeming to sense her presence, he said, "It's been a long day."
"People piss you off?"
"People always piss me off."
"Do I need to kick someone's ass?" Elide offered, still keeping her voice quiet.
Lorcan chuckled as he opened his eyes and looked at his wife. "I'll never say no to that. You're late."
She frowned. "I know. My replacement ran late. I saw my dinner in the fridge. Thank you."
He nodded, his eyes soft. He was clearly exhausted. "If you can wait to eat..." He gestured for her to join him.
Elide suppressed her grin. Lorcan was not a small man, but in contrast, Elide was a small woman. Even if he took up eighty percent of the tub, Elide only took up the other twenty.
"I don't know," she teased. "I'm pretty hungry."
Lorcan snorted as his eyes closed, once more. "I promise it'll be worth it."
Elide couldn't deny that. She stripped off her clothes and meandered into the tub, sitting idly on Lorcan's lap. He wrapped his arms around her and laid his chin on top of her head as the music played around them.
There was nothing sexual about it, only comfort. He rubbed her back gently, his fingers dancing across her skin smoothly, and just as Elide closed her eyes and began to drift into a state of utter calmness, Lorcan chuckled.
She opened her eyes and glanced up at him. "What?"
"I just imagined you kicking the ass of the sixty-year-old woman that made me want to quit my job today," he said, quietly. "It was satisfying."
Elide laughed quietly as she snuggled up against him, breathing him in. "Your twisted mind would find joy in that."
"If my mind is twisted, yours is just as bad."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Elide said, fingers trailing down his chest. "I'm nothing but pure and innocent."
Lorcan took her fingers and made them still before bringing them to his mouth and kissing each fingertip softly, teasingly. His tone set her on fire when he said, "You are not pure or innocent."
Elide grinned, refusing to correct him, because they both knew it was true. Their hands wandered one another until simple touches became unbearable. They made love to one another until the water ran cold, and it was nearly midnight before Elide got around to her dinner.
But she didn't mind.
#elide#lorcan#elorcan#tog#throne of glass fanfiction#elide x lorcan#lorcan x elide#modern au#fluff#oneshot#drabble#dabble#500 words or less#sjm fanfic#sjm fanfiction#throne of glass#fanfiction#fanfic#tara answers prompts
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Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot
Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff
One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.
Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.
He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated.
Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird.
“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.”
Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.
Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.
The male only smiled. All teeth.
“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.”
“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.
Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”
“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.
“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.”
Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest.
He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.
For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.
Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.
“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else.
Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.
Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.
Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.
“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.
“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.
Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.
“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.
Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.”
“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded.
Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.
"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-”
“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily.
“And my master would like to make a trade.”
“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all.
Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night.
“I see.” Rhysand said.
So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.
Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.
And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.
Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons.
Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return.
Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.
Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.”
“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.
“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.
Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.
You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.
Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.
I'd wait forever for you. You know that.
He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.
Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.
Only for you. Only for you.
Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.
“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.
A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks.
A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror.
Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison.
Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat.
“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.
A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.
“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.”
Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.
The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for.
All dead.
All of them.
He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.
The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper.
You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle.
You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas.
“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting.
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.
You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.”
“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.
“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply.
At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.
You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.
Thank you.
There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.
You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.
You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.
There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.
______________
You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.
It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court.
Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed.
Finally your mate had decided to join you.
You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.
The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.
“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones.
“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.
“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”
“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms.
“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers.
He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.
“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?”
You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”
“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs.
You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.
“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.”
Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.”
You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.”
Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”
“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.
“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.”
His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away.
You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible.
He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots.
“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.
“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.”
You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.”
His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.”
You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.
______________
Author's note:
A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*
That's it. That's the note.
#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x rhysand's sister#rhysand's sister#acotar fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#inner circle x reader#the inner circle#azriel x you#azriel#shadowsinger x reader#feyre archeron#rhysand#high lord rhysand#High Lady feyre#cassian#cassian acotar
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Halloween 26 for rowaelin!
A Haunting Halloween
Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn
“If I die because of your dumb idea, I will haunt you so hard!”
Halloween Dialogue Prompts
Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection
Warnings: Language, Mentions of Haunted House
1718 words
*******
“Oh, shit!” Aelin hissed as her foot caught on a tree root, jerking forward as the momentum of her body tried pulling her to the ground. But she didn’t fall, not as a pair of strong hands held her shoulders in a firm, steady grip.
When she got her feet back under her, Aelin let her boyfriend guide her along the path. Every few seconds, one of his hands would lift from her shoulders to hold a low-hanging branch out of her way, but each time she felt the absence of his hand, she hesitated, her hands instinctively reaching out ahead of her as she tried to feel her way through the night air.
She was starting to regret letting Rowan blindfold her.
The next time she stumbled was because instead of allowing herself to be nudged to the left, she kept straight and walked right into a tree stump, cursing as she leaned back into Rowan’s chest and shook out her foot. Huffing, she told him, “If I die because of your dumb idea, I’ll haunt you so hard.”
She didn’t have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes at her. “If you’d stop fighting me at every turn, then you wouldn’t be almost dying from tree stumps.” The light squeeze he gave her shoulders negated any true annoyance, but she could tell that the exasperation in his tone was real.
Finally relenting as Rowan’s hands dropped from her shoulders to her waist, Aelin accepted his guidance as they continued walking.
“Why do I have to wear a blindfold?” she asked for the dozenth time. “It’s dark, we’re walking through the woods that you and I both know I’ve never been through, and now my toes are going to be bruised. It isn’t like I’d recognize where we're going, so why do you insist on debilitating me?”
Rowan’s laugh sounded even more exasperated than his words a minute ago. “Aelin—”
“Have I finally made you snap? Are you bringing me out here to murder me?” she joked with an exaggerated gasp. “Slaying me in a spooky forest on Halloween – points for style, but not much originality.” She didn’t give him a second to answer before pleading with him again, “Rowan, come on, you know I hate surprises.”
He snorted and decided not to even touch the murder commentary. “No, you hate surprises that you didn’t plan yourself. You love surprises when you’re the one making everyone else’s hearts stop in their chests.”
She abruptly stilled and Rowan caught himself before he sent them both tumbling. “Are you saying my heart's going to stop? That isn’t much of a defense to my murder accusation.”
“I’m saying,” Rowan retorted, reaching out to grab a branch and hold it up and out of Aelin’s way, “stop arguing with me; you might actually like this surprise.”
“Seeing as I had no input, I’d say that’s doubtful.”
Rowan grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” she asked with enough cheek to tell him she knew exactly which choice words he’d muttered.
He waited until he’d led her over a damp pile of leaves before answering, “Just reminding myself of how much I love you.”
She hummed. “Didn’t sound like that to me.”
“Yeah, well,” one of Rowan’s hands flexed on her waist and carefully guided her along the path. “Reminding myself why I shouldn’t let you live out your Halloween murder fantasy is the same thing.”
“Rude.” Aelin scoffed, resting one of her hands on one of his bracketing her waist to squeeze his fingers. His answering squeeze brought an amused smile to her face.
A minute passed in relative silence, broken only by the light crunches of their boots over the forest floor.
“We’re almost there,” Rowan assured as if he could tell she had just been about to ask.
“You still haven’t told me where there is.”
“And you still won’t get me to.”
A breeze whistled through the trees and Aelin was suddenly glad Rowan had insisted on bringing their hats and gloves. It also helped that she had a veritable wall of muscle at her back shielding her from the worst of the chill.
“Can you at least promise me,” she tried again, hoping to get some answer, “that whatever this is will be better than that Halloween party we were invited to?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
She did too. “Because, you know, if we’d gone to that, I wouldn’t be bundled up in all these layers,” she reached forward and twirled her gloves around, “I would be wearing that queen costume I showed you.”
Rowan’s foot caught on a branch and Aelin held in a laugh. He squeezed her waist again and cleared his throat before asking, his voice rougher than it had been a second ago, “The one with the thigh-high stockings?”
She nodded. “The one with the thigh-high stockings.”
As the seconds stretched out in silence, Aelin grinned.
At some point they walked out of the woods, Aelin felt the damp soil turn into hard asphalt, and the constant feeling of being surrounded by trees disappeared. And then Rowan was leading her up some stairs and she was trying to figure out how one minute she was walking through the woods and the next she was in…a house?
It wasn’t much longer before Rowan pulled her to a stop and then his fingers rose to the back of her head to untie the blindfold. As she blinked, he leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Why don’t you take a look and see for yourself.”
It took her a second to get her bearings. They were in a house, one that wasn’t familiar, but even if she knew where they were, the room she was standing in would’ve been unrecognizable.
A large sheet was hung up on one wall bracketed by small strands of lights dangling off the sides. A sofa sat in the middle of the room, but instead of holding a couple of pillows, it was being used as structural support for the blankets that were lofted over the back and pulled taught to create a fort on the floor in front of it. A small projector sat on a side table aimed at the sheet. And, as she slowly walked towards the front of the fort, she saw all the blankets, pillows, and bags of candy and chips laid out.
“What…” she was speechless as she slowly turned towards Rowan who looked beyond pleased with himself. “I don’t…”
Stepping around her, Rowan pressed a button on the projector and suddenly it flickered to life as the sheet now showed the title card to Friday the 13th. The smirk on his face was the definition of smug.
“Seriously – Rowan, are we…?”
“Are we…” he urged her to finish her thought as his smirk grew wider. When she continued to look at him in disbelief, he stepped closer and some of his smugness turned softer. “In the supposedly haunted house on the outskirts of the Orynthian woods?”
Her brows flew up as she nodded along. “I have so many questions…but my first is,” she jerked her chin towards the piles of food, “are there Twizzlers in there?”
Rowan barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Twizzlers? Do you think I don’t know you? It’s stocked with Red Vines, you menace.”
“Of course, I never should have doubted you.” Aelin couldn’t contain her smile if she tried. “So, this…”
“This,” he laughed, “Right. The haunted house? Not haunted. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” she echoed, grinning.
“Just abandoned, and recently put on the market by some family member of the people who used to live here. The listing went to Enda’s firm, and he’s been showing it for a few weeks. Believe it or not, not many people want to live this far into the forest.”
“Shocking.”
“I know.”
Aelin poked his chest before sliding her hands up around his neck. The grin she wore softened at the edges and fell into a fond smile which she hoped conveyed how much she appreciated this whole gesture.
“Anyways,” he went on as his arms twined around her waist to pull her flush against him. “I convinced my dear cousin to me borrow it for the night, so long as I promised to keep it decently clean.”
Realization hit her and had her beaming again. “So you mean—”
“That you won’t get your Halloween murder, but you’re about to spend a night in a ‘haunted’ house.”
“On Halloween.”
“On Halloween.” He confirmed, once again looking downright smug. She had to give it to him, Rowan really outdid himself with this one.
Pulling back to look him better in the eye, she arched a brow. “Okay, but how did you manage this whole setup?”
She stepped out of his embrace and kneeled down in front of the fort to take in the orange blankets and pumpkin pillows. When she glanced back up, Rowan was leaning against the side table, his arms crossed, still overly pleased with catching her off guard.
The tips of his ears flushed red as he said, “I have my ways.”
Aelin wasted no more time, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the fort with her. They situated themselves amongst the blankets, leaning their backs against the sofa. Rowan draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as she curled her arm over his middle and rested her head on his chest. The movie started up just as she was opening a pack of Red Vines and stretching one up to feed to her boyfriend.
“I won’t underestimate your surprises again,” she promised. “This is perfect. Happy Halloween, Buzzard.”
He laughed, “Happy Halloween, Fireheart.”
Aelin tilted her face up and leaned in to kiss him, but right as she was about to connect her lips with his, a low, drawn-out creaking sound echoed through the dark hallways of the house. She pulled back with a hand on his chest and glanced toward the sound. The creaking sounded again.
“Ooh, nice special effects,” she commended, too focused on listening to realize Rowan’s body had gone stiff next to hers. Finding his gaze, she was confused to see his green eyes widen in alarm.
“That wasn’t me.”
*****
Taglist:
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#rowaelin#aelin x rowan#rowan x aelin#aelin#Rowan#aelin galythinius#rowan whitethorn#aelin and rowan#rowan and aelin#aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn#rowaelin oneshot#rowaelin fic#rowaelin fluff#rowaelin fanfiction#throne of glass#tog#halloween fics#halloween prompts#Halloween
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Batstarion (Astarion x Reader)
Summary: You share some time with a certain Ascended Vampire in bat form.
TW: none :)
WC: 1 K
A/N: just a fluffy oneshot inspired by Pani-artz Batstarion series, that’s all :)
Long, leathery wings stretch across the tufted cushion, a flurry of squeaks escaping before you whisper an evocation.
“Amicus animalis,” your fingers trace his tiny body, getting lost in the snowy coat that covers him. “You may speak now, love.”
“Lord,” he corrects in that buttery voice you delight in so much, though it’s difficult to take anything serious when Astarion lounges about in bat form. White pinpricks appear from behind an upturned snout, his menace evaporated as beady eyes muster any intimidation. “I am your lord and you will regard me as such.”
“Oh?” You bring a finger up to one fang, releasing a droplet that’s offered to the bat. A tiny pink tongue laps at it lazily. “It’s I who sits upon your throne; shan’t I be your lord?”
“Do not mock me, pet,” he seethes, though that pink noses nuzzles against your finger before sharply latching. He sips though it feels more like a tickle when he’s in this form, “I’m ghastly.”
“You’re adorable.” You coo, scratching beneath a fuzzy chin as he likes. When you stop, you noticed his batty expression has softened, tiny features relaxed. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely,” he sighs, wings twitching against either of your thighs, cartilaginous sinews loosening as his claws dig into your breeches. “Turn me."
“Isn’t my lovely face enough?” You jest though some truth is hidden in that; after all, it’s been almost a year since you’ve last seen your own reflection. Now you chat with the bat form of your lover and closest confidant. Were you finally losing what was left of your mind?
“Don’t be naïve,” he tsks, sinking into the tufted velvet. “I’d like to look upon the audience.”
“The hall is empty, my love,” your eyes fall on the empty benches as wings threaten to flap. “Patience, I’ve got you.”
One hand slid beneath his warm belly, enjoying the heat you no longer wrought. Then he was carefully scooped and turned so that beady little gaze to see the ornate room that often clamored for the attention of the lord regally displayed upon the dais. Then a content chirp echoed through the vaulted ceilings as his body spasmed.
“Imagine if all the citizens of Baldur’s Gate saw you now, my lov…, my lord.” One finger began stroking from between tiny coned ears to the root of a wiry tail. His fur was so luscious and soft, not unlike the curls so carefully manicured atop his head, “Commanding with such ferocity propped upon the lap of your consort.”
“I suppose it would be quite the sight,” he chuckled, making her shiver like it always did. “Baldur’s Mouth would have quite the story. ‘Decrees heralded by rodent’; I think it’s silly enough to make the front page.”
“Think yourself popular, do you?” you teased, enjoying the moments he was seemingly relaxed and docile; they were so far few and between these days.
“Darling, I know I am.” He wriggled playfully against the cushion before pinkish hued wings began to flap. It was always mesmerizing to watch him float, expecting him to morph back into himself with a cloud of smoke. But he remained as he was, eyeing you expectantly. “The sun has long set; let’s peruse the palace gardens.”
The velveteen cushion was tucked upon the seat of the gilded throne as he began to glide to the far end of the hall, leaving you practically sprinting to catch up. Boots clacked against the marble floor, robes swishing around sure legs as you raced down the aisle. He paused, wings flapping in place as your place was taken beside him.
“Do keep up, dear,” he chided, little teeth clicking as he gracefully dove through the opened oak doors and down the decadently decorated hallway. “We haven’t all night. Oh, wait; we do don’t we?”
Your chuckle mingled with his, allowing the flamboyant bat dart to through the ornate glass doors that servants obediently wrenched open. It was a treat to watch him dive through the hedged archways, dipping down to bury his nose in a budding rose that practically glowed beneath the full moon.
“Pick one,” he encouraged, “Put it behind your ear.”
Doing as asked, two red pinpricks watched diligently as the petals hung over the shell of your ear. Then, it finally happened, fluffy white bat dissipating into a black mist before Astarion stretched out in front you, gently tipping your chin upwards.
“Beautiful.” He cooed before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just beautiful.”
“Would ‘Batstarion’ agree?” you giggled, enjoying the quiet moments before the hammer inevitably dropped. He was so rarely this tender and you missed it terribly. Gently, he pulled your hand into his before drifting to the edge of the gardens.
“He loves flowers, that’s true.” He grins, wiping residual pollen from his own nose, “Though I’m unable to hold you with those bloody wings. Not to mention the language barrier.”
“I love the chirps,” you argued, enjoying the arm that instinctually wrapped around your waist, possessively. “It’s very cute.”
“I’m meant to be menacing,” he growls and you’re reminded of his other form, back elongating, jaw distending. You shivered at the thought. So you allow your fingers to dance across a strong cheekbone as his gaze fell upon the lights twinkling lights in the Lower City below. “How will I ever rule The Sword Coast if I’m not?”
“In due time, my love.” You reassured him, enjoying the caress of his cold breath against your ear. “This will all be ours. They’ll pledge fealty and you can rest upon as many velvet pillows as you please. I’ll even rub your little furry belly.”
“Will you?” then, when you expected his teeth to plunge into your neck but nuzzled against you again. A welcome change. “That’d be strangely comforting.”
#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion x ofc#astarion x tav#astarion#oneshot#fluff#batstarion#reader insert#female reader
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Hello! I have a Black butler request if you don’t mind! (It can be yandere but If you can make it not to noticeable??? If that makes sense.)
If I may could I request a Ciel Phantomhive x Cruella De Vill reader? I mean not exactly like Cruella but the fact she was born with hair spilt between black and white, she owns multiple Dalmatians which are really aggressive guard dogs for her. And she has a wonderful sense of fashion, even though most her clothes are only black, white or red. She even has a nickname that combines her name and Cruel together (like “Cruel-(/N)”) because she can be really honest and it comes off as rude. She is short temper but unlike Cruella she is only occasionally sassy but most of the time she is quiet because she used to get made fun of for her hair.
Also I was hoping it would be a oneshot, with a few hc. But if that’s to much it can just be hc! Thank you and have a nice day!
.｡*♡ A/N: I hope I did this rq justice because I absolutely loved it. Detailed rqs my beloveds. As you ask, I did some hcs and then wrote a little drabble, though I do apologize for such delay in answer it. Hope you like darling <33
.｡*♡ Warnings: Platonic content. Maybe typos too.
☆*: In Ciel's ears, the news of a figure with two-tone hair who only dresses in black and red reaches him through gossip that Lau felt the need to share. The rumors, however, were not enough to capture the earl's attention at first. Who cares if Londoners are talking about this girl because she acts different and has a sharp tongue? Who cares if she has some protective dogs who can attack on command?
☆*: Certainly not Ciel. He has better things to worry about being the Queen's Watchdog besides running his own company. Gossip and rumors are not something that holds his attention unless they are related to the murderers who killed his parents.
☆*: So it takes a while before you finally get to know each other and he can get a glimpse of your strong genius. And heavens, he's enchanted, even if he doesn't know it, feelings aren't Ciel's thing. One thing he knows, this night will be one he would never forget.
...
Reluctantly, Ciel was participating in the celebration. A glass of juice in his hand as he watched each of the nobles approach the throne, kneel and say their rehearsed congratulations. So typical of nobles, so insincere. He hated it here, he could be doing so many things right in the comfort of his office. Still, he smiled and played his part when all adults around him looked down on him just because he was the only child here.
The starry night became filled with light and laughter; The Queen was throwing a party to celebrate another birthday well spent. Her age-kissed skin was still glowing, her eyes carrying a tinge of unforgettable joy, and her voice a jovial tone. As usual, she sat on her throne and waited for one by one the nobles to greet and boast about the gifts that were certainly better than the others.
It was funny to watch though. They all just seemed like jealous peacocks, huffing and puffing their feathers, wanting the queen attention on them.
Sebastian when can we leave? was what he wanted to ask to the butler at his side. What he almost asked. But right at that moment he heard a commotion.
A few meters ahead stood the notorious Cru-y/n DeVil, your presence commanding attention. Ciel couldn't help but be drawn to you, his gaze fixating on you with a mixture of intrigue and caution. Despite your reputation, he couldn't deny your beauty, a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded your name. You were young, much like himself, yet exuded a confidence that belied your age, almost as if you too had to grown fast to protect yourself.
You seemed to be fighting a much older and powerful woman. The duchess who was always looking to fight someone and today had just found her new victim. But you aren't having any of that, making exaggerated gestures and smiling mockingly at the duchess.
Ciel observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, at least the party turned out to be entertaining with this little fight happening and the queen was also watching you two too intently, curious, not at all bothered by it. Ciel couldn't help but roll his eyes when the duchess continued to argue and pointed her finger at you.
"Your hat is adorable" You say in a loud and clear tone, with the sweetest smile you can produce. "I'm sure it was worth sacrificing Big Bird, its poor beautiful yellow feathers wasted on this hat that perfectly fit your head."
A murmur starts around the two of you, some are laughing loudly, others are whispering among themselves, repeating what you said. The duchess, wanting to appear strong and resilient, fixes her khaki yellow hat - that barely fits in her head, lifts her chin an extra millimeter and leaves. However, Ciel knew that your comment would still haunt her for months to come. Today she had lost a fight and was insulted.
Undeniable was that the hat was horrendous.
Holding back a laugh that seems to want to escape him anyway, Ciel takes off his hat in greeting to you as soon as your eyes meet. He understood now why everyone was talking about you so much. To the court you were like a fresh breath of air, devastating if you hate it, great if you like it. And he absolutely like it. Not a lot of younger aristocrats behave this way and he really needs someone different to spend time, as Elizabeth is quite overwhelming with her affection and Sullivan is busy.
He approach you and with this gesture, plans to know more about you. He is now curious and his curiosity must be satisfied.
#yandere ciel#yandere ciel phantomhive#yandere ciel x reader#yandere ciel phantomhive x reader#yandere kuroshitsuji#yandere black butler#ciel phantomhive x reader#ciel x reader#kuroshitsuji ciel phantomhive#ciel phantomhive#fem reader#female reader#lorkai imagine
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Come So Close That I Might See, part i
Desperate to secure her position, Aegon's wife turns to Aemond for help // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x OFC
Warnings: 18+, language, infidelity, smut (p in v, female receiving oral), breeding kink (kinda), and also a bit of fluff.
Words: 4800
A/n: this is my first oneshot! I've been sitting on this for literally months and finally got round to editing it. Also available to read on AO3.
Every breath Lucia took was like ice in her throat.
Her fingers came to toy with the Valyrian steel band around her ring finger. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Five years of whispers behind her back, agonising audiences with the Queen, the Hand and her Westerling and Lannister uncles. “The realm needs a son,” they all said, as if she hadn’t known that the moment she had said her vows to Aegon fucking Targareyn.
Her husband knew what he was doing. He had all but confessed countless times how he resented his position, how he did not wish to be crushed under the weight of duty despite the ambitions of his mother and grandsire.
She knew her duty, to give King Viserys another grandchild to dote upon, give the Hightowers the heir they needed, and secure her own position as the wife of a future King.
For Aegon, a child would be a burden, another duty to squander. He demanded use of her hands and her mouth of the few occasions he bothered to visit her bedchamber, but otherwise he was content to pounce upon the nearest serving girls or fuck his way through Fleabottom.
Five years of humiliation.
She anticipated what talk might stir with the arrival of the King’s guests at court. A great feast had been planned, to celebrate the new additions to their family. Helaena and Martyn Hightower were due to arrive from Oldtowen to present their daughter, Rhaella, while Princess Rhaenyra had delivered her second son with Daemon, another silver haired Prince, named in honour of the King.
She delighted in seeing Helaena again and could hardly contain her excitement when she saw a flash of cobalt blue in the sky that marked the arrival of Daeron and Tessarion. The Prince and Princess had been both sent to Oldtown so soon after Lucia’s marriage to Aegon, but she missed them more than she did her own siblings in the Westerlands.
Then came the party from Dragonstone, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their small army of children. Aemond had tested her memory before their arrival; Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon and Viserys.
Aegon was nowhere to be found when they were welcomed into the throne room. Lucia half hoped the captain of the city watch would come to her with news that his corpse had been found on the floor of a tavern. Instead she stood between Queen Alicent and Prince Aemond.
When the three boys with Velaryon blue cloaks and unruly dark hair bowed before the King, Aemond leaned into her ear. “That’s the bastard I have to thank for my sapphire,” he whispered.
Aegon eventually made an appearance at the feast later that night, sauntering in as the main courses were brought out. He already had a glazed look in his eye and dark purple stains in the corners of his mouth. Lucia shared a pointed glance with Aemond as her husband took his place beside her.
She did not have to suffer Aegon for long. Once the music picked up and the dancing began, Daeron was the first to lead her to the floor. Then, from the other side of the table, Jacaerys took Baela’s hand and joined them, the four of them dancing, twirling and laughing together, regardless of the scowls that came from Prince Daemon and Otto Hightower. Then came Lucerys and Rhaena, and after them followed Helaena and her husband.
After a few exhaustive rounds, Lucia thought she might need a glass of wine to recover her strength, until her eyes fell to Joffrey, looking a little abandoned. She took his hands and led him through a dance, which mostly involved them spinning in circles rather than following the steps. The boy looked up at her in awe as she twirled them around the floor.
“The Strong boys” were not so bad, she thought, they were gracious and lively, but in the back of her mind she couldn’t quite forget the terrible scar that slashed across Aemond’s face. She looked back to him as she danced. She expected to see that stoic, silent fury she had become so accustomed to, instead he looked rather… she settled on amused. His eye was softer than usual and his lips curled ever so slightly into– not quite a smile but it was hardly a frown either.
And each time she turned her head he was already looking at her.
She felt the whole thing had been a success. Until Lord Tyland came to her the morning after Rhaenyra’s departure for Dragonstone.
He barged into her chamber, standing over her as she took her breakfast. “We cannot delay any longer.”
“Good morning to you too, uncle.”
“How often do you share a bed with your husband?” He hissed.
Lucia swallowed her mouthful of blackberries. “Not often.”
“Speak plainly,” he demanded. “You are the wife of the King’s oldest son, you are not entitled to privacy.”
Clearly. She took a breath. “He will not come to my bedchamber, if he can help it, only if he is too drunk to remember he despises me. And then he… is never able to fulfil his marital duties.”
“This cannot go on.”
“And yet it has been the case for four years, uncle. Aegon simply does not wish to make me a mother. You may seek to ask the Queen to lecture him, but I am not the one at fault.”
“That is simply not good enough.”
“So what would you have me do?”
“Whatever it is you must do. You have seen how disputes of succession cause instability, and without an heir, Aegon’s position, our position is not secure.”
She knew little of the arrangement between the Hightowers and the Lannisters. Perhaps her family thought her too young to understand when the pact of loyalty was made, and yet they were happy to let that alliance rest upon her shoulders. As long as her womb was empty, she would remain a Westerling orphan to the eyes of the court.
“She will never give Aegon a son,” she had heard one of the Tyrells say, “the King should cast her aside, make her a septa and marry the Prince to one of our girls.”
She spent the rest of the day in the gardens, walking for hours until she came to the rose garden. There was a bench, concealed amongst bushes of red, pink and gold flowers, looking out over Blackwater Bay.
Had the small council truly been so startled by the very presence of Princess Rhaenyra in the capital? Even with the rumours surrounding her three eldest sons, her extensive family was a show of strength and stability, something she and Aegon had so far failed to provide.
The sun seemed to go black for a moment and there came a colossal roar that shook the foundations of the city. She looked up to the sky to see Vhagar soaring out over the water. She couldn’t make out much of her rider, save for a small glimmer of silver hair.
An idea came into her head.
She tucked her knees into her chest and began to gnaw at her lower lip until she tasted blood. She sat there, frozen in thought until the sun began to set and a chilling evening breeze swept in from the sea. Her gown was relatively thin, a day dress for Spring, but she did not shiver and she did not flinch.
As twilight approached, she heard footsteps crunching against the gravel path.
“You’re expected for dinner,” Aemond’s voice came from behind her.
She rose from the bench and came to stand before him, close enough to smell the leather on his jerkin and the faint scent of smoke in his hair.
He frowned and brought his thumb to her bruised and bloodied lip. She watched his eye as he inspected it, gently swiping and tugging. “What’s this?” He asked in a soft and scathing tone.
“It was my own fault,” she muttered, “I didn’t realise I was doing it.”
He pulled back with a dissatisfied “hmm,” but his gaze soon softened. “The Queen was getting rather worried.”
Lucia weaved her arm through his and began to lead him back towards the castle. “We should not keep her waiting then.”
*
Aemond followed Lucia into the dining room and settled in the seat across from her, beside Daeron. Helaena and Martyn Hightower were not present, apparently Rhaella had managed to come down with a cough and they would not leave her side.
The King had decided to dine with them this night, a rarity. Mostly they sat in silence, the Queen occasionally attempting to make conversation. She asked Aemond how Vhagar had been that morning. He said “very well mother,” and drew his fingers along his knife. She turned to Daeron and asked how his studies were progressing. He said “very well mother,” and went back to eating.
“Sunfyre is well too, dear mother,” Aegon added sarcastically.
Aemond caught Lucia’s eye as she tried to stifle a small smile.
“Rhaenyra is with child again,” the King said, “I do so desire a granddaughter.”
His mother pursed her lips. “You have a granddaughter, dear husband.”
“And perhaps I desire more.”
Aemond watched Lucia as she toyed with her duck breast, tearing apart the meat but never putting it near her mouth. He had watched her rather closely over the last five years, as her life had become a well rehearsed act, feigning smiles and indifference when she needed to, but he always saw right through her.
When Aegon glanced at her, she kept her gaze down and tightened the grip on her fork.
“I might ask Helaena to stay a while longer in the capital,” the Queen said, “so we might spend some more time with our grandchild.”
“Do you presume the presence of my sister’s babe will offer us some encouragement?” Aegon sneered.
The table paused. No one dared to breathe, except Aegon, who took a long draw from his cup and finished it with a gasp of satisfaction. He glanced around at the bewildered faces of his family. “Is something the matter?”
Aemond kept his eye fixed on Lucia as she drew her lip between her teeth. Her cheeks glistened in the low candlelight as tears began streaming from her eyes. She stood quickly and calmly, and was out of the room before Alicent could even utter a single word.
The room fell to silence.
Until Aegon decided otherwise. “Do you think I upset her?”
Aemond made a point of hitting his fist against the table as he followed her.
She was in the corridor, standing with her back against the wall and her hands clasped behind her. At the sound of a single footstep her eyes darted to him.
He came to stand before her. Her cheeks and eyelashes were still damp, but she had stopped crying.
The Queen’s furious shouts began to bleed into the corridor.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
Lucia nodded.
He offered his hand. “I’ll walk you to your chambers.”
She looked up at him with those wide and glistening eyes as she placed her hand in his. His heart ached to feel her skin, their fingers curling over each other, his thumb settling against her knuckles. She felt cold, but he would have been content to stay within her hold, as long as she would allow him to.
She stayed close as he led her through the stillness of the Red Keep, her skirt brushing against his leg with every stride.
Ser Arryk Cargyll waited outside her chambers, and she slipped from his grasp as easily as she had accepted it. She stopped as the guard opened the door though, and turned back to Aemond. “Would you stay with me?”
Aemond held his breath, hoping neither she or Ser Arryk would somehow notice his heart drumming furiously in his chest.
“Not for long,” she added, “but I wish to speak with you.”
“Of course,” he said, and followed her inside.
The Princess’ chambers were not entirely unfamiliar to him. With Aegon’s elusive nature and Helaena and Daeron’s absences, it only felt natural that he and Lucia often found themselves in each other’s company. She enjoyed the library as much as he did and as she had developed interests in riding on horseback and marksmanship, he was all too happy to entertain her. Her chambers were not a place he visited often, not unless he wished to return a book, or take her on a walk through the gardens before dinner.
The room was immaculate, and it smelled like her, bittersweet and warm.
She stood before the fireplace. The glow of the flames flickered across her face and caught the faint strands of gold in her dark hair.
“Aegon will not give me children,” she said.
He kept his expression soft. “What makes you think that?”
With every word she spoke, the gentle facade began to fade, the light and shadows of the fire only added to the look of fury on her face. “He knows a lack of an heir undermines his position. He will happily fuck whores and sire bastards but he will not fulfil his duty to me, his wife. He is a coward.”
Gods, she was beautiful when she was furious.
Her lip was still red and swollen. Before he knew it his thumb was against it again, hypnotised by the way her lip moved under his touch. His eye drifted up to hers. “On that much we can agree,” he muttered.
She took a slow step into him, bringing her hand around his wrist, gently pulling him away.
His heart stopped. Perhaps he had overstepped a line.
But she leaned in further, until their noses touched and all he could see was her. He felt her other hand settle against his jaw on his blind side. She leaned in further still, and pressed her lips into his.
He froze for a moment, but as her lips moved over his, he found himself unable to tame his impulse, the impulse that he’d been fighting for little less than five years. He allowed himself to melt into her softness, her warmth, the bittersweetness and the sharp taste of her tongue.
His hand snaked down to her waist, and only when he squeezed her flesh through her gown did he realise what he was doing.
He knew what he should do. He should leave her, lock himself in his chambers and forget her. Forget her smile, her wit, the way his heart felt brighter when he watched her dance, the way he craved her sparse touches and her eyes finding him across the chaos of a crowded room.
Everything about her was perfect, his brother’s wife.
In his hesitation he retreated slightly. He could hardly think, hardly breathe…
And her voice cut through the fog of doubt in his mind. “You could help me.”
“How so?”
Keeping her hand on his jaw, she brought the other to trace the highest silver buckle on his jerkin. Her thumb stroked against his cheek, featherlight over his scar.
And suddenly he understood.
He clamped his hand over hers. “It would be treason, Lucia.”
Her eyes were longing, pleading. “No one would need know,” she whispered, “there would be no question of parentage.”
His heart felt heavy. It would be a complete and utter betrayal of his family, not just Aegon, but his mother, his grandsire, and a risk to everything. They’d be no better than Rhaenyra, trying to pass a bastard off as an heir, and yet, there would not be much room for doubt, so long as the child had silver hair.
But suppose he gave in, bent to the will of those pretty eyes and perfect lips, only to stand aside for Aegon to claim what he would never deserve.
He could feel himself on a knife’s edge, to stop, or to linger and let his desire consume him. He wasn’t sure what scared him more.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he breathed, but with every moment he felt himself leaning deeper into her touch.
“Aemond,” she said his name like a spell and brought their foreheads to rest against each other. “There is hardly an aspect of my life which is under my control. If I should have some choice in this matter, then I would choose you.”
“Over him?”
Her breath echoed over his skin as she whispered, “above all else.”
His grip of her waist tightened, noticing the way her breath hitched as he traced his thumb over the fabric of her gown.
“Aemond,” she whispered, bringing her lips to the corner of his mouth, “I want this, please.”
He caught her lips between his, kissing her with all the want he had spent years trying to suppress.
His sudden urgency seemed to take her off guard but she met his efforts with just as much fervour, now with both hands cupping his face and fingers teasing over the soft skin of his neck, pulling him in further and further.
Lucia began to groan, falling into him arms and grinding her body against his.
He pulled away and took her hands in his. “Patience, Princess,” he hummed, and led her to stand at the foot of her bed.
Her eyes trailed over his jerkin while she ran her teeth over her lip.
“Turn around,” he ordered and she followed.
Cautiously but effortlessly, he undid the braid keeping her hair from her face. He ran his fingers through it, until he gathered it over her shoulder, exposing her neck to him.
He breathed in the bittersweet warmth as his hands traced over her body, over her torso, along the curves of her waist, the soft pouch of her stomach.
“Tell me,” he whispered, grazing his lips over her cheek, “how does my brother fuck you?”
“He doesn’t,” she uttered, watching his hands as they roamed, “he takes his pleasure in other ways, but never in such a way that would lead to a child.”
It was a dangerous confession to hear. If he wanted her before he was almost ravenous now, starved and fulfilled by every breathless gasp, every little twitch of movement in her body, desperate to feel her, claim her.
He hummed hungrily, and began to drag a hand further down, skimming over the fabric that covered her centre. “And would you like to be fucked, Princess?”
She nodded.
“I said–” he pressed his hand firmly between her legs– “would you like to be fucked?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, writhing and leaning against him at the friction, “please, I want you to fuck me.”
He smiled into her. How could he ever deny her when she asked so nicely?
His fingers traced over the laces of her bodice before he began to pull them apart, agonisingly slowly, but he relished the anticipation and the little hitches in her breath. Once it was off, he moved to the clasps and drawstrings of her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles.
He offered a hand so she could step out and went to lay her clothing over a chaise. When he turned back to her she had removed her shoes and stockings, left only in a corset and a linen shift.
He allowed his eye to rake shamelessly over her. He had never seen her in such a simple state, without the ornate gowns or the jewellery, her hair loose and tousled about her shoulders, the bare skin of her arms as she held her hands behind her back, her teeth running over her lip– a nervous habit, he realised, one that had somehow managed to evade his notice after all this time. He was the same with his hands.
He came closer and drew his fingers through the laces of the corset, while her eyes looked up to him. He made no protest as she reached up to slide off his eyepatch.
She looked between his violet eye and the sapphire, and smiled dreamily. “My beautiful Aemond.”
His heart was shattered and welded back together. Hers.
He watched her as she began to undo his belt and the buckles on his jerkin. Once it was off he pulled his undershirt over his head, leaving his chest bare. She traced her fingertips from his collar, over the hair of his sternum, the lines of his abs, until she let her fingers snag at the waist of his breeches–
He grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her to lie down against the mattress. “All in good time,” he promised with a glimmer of a smile. He released his hold of her wrists. “Keep your hands where they are.”
He dragged his hands down over her scarcely covered body, to gather the hem of her shift and bring it past her waist. He almost growled at the dampness of her small clothes, and pulled them from her legs, uncaring of where they fell. He gripped her thighs, prising her legs apart to reveal her glistening cunt to him.
He brought his thumb through her folds in slow, upward strokes, swiping over her bud just enough to make her squirm before he withdrew again.
“We can’t be too loud,” he whispered, “can you keep quiet for me?”
She hummed impatiently. “Yes, Aemond but oh–”
Her voice faded into a sweet moan as he licked through her. He liked the teasing, dragging his tongue to her entrance and savouring her taste before he moved up, flicking over her clit until her hips were moving against him. He pressed a wide palm over her stomach to keep her in place while he brought all of his attention to where she needed him most.
When he slipped a finger into her she groaned, pressing and biting at her lips to keep herself quiet, but her breath betrayed her pleasure, haggard and heavy.
He could already feel how tight she was, stroking slowly against her tender flesh while his tongue circled over her pearl. And through it she kept her hands in place, just as he had asked.
The hardness in his breeches was starting to strain now. He couldn’t wait to feel her around his cock, soft, wet and warm.
Her hips started to buck again and her cunt twitched around his finger.
“Are you going to come for me, Princess?” He muttered against her.
Her voice was breathless and hazy. “Yes… I want to, please… please…”
“Not too loud,” he muttered, pushing a second finger into her, “you don’t want your husband to find out, do you?”
She clasped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head as he pushed her further and further towards her high, until her body tensed at her release. He stifled his own moan against her flesh as she clenched around him.
She was utterly breathless, sprawled before him, drenched and dripping onto the mattress. He thought he could have kept her like this for hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm from her, savouring the sound and the taste of her pleasure.
But he had already stayed long enough, and he had no intentions of giving the guard something to be suspicious of, especially not when his family had seen him chase after her from the dining room.
Another time, he promised himself. For now he knew what she needed.
He finally rid himself of his boots and his breeches, freeing his hard and weeping cock. With her wetness still on his fingers he began to stroke over himself.
She watched him with wide eyes and parted lips, coming to sit up with her palms behind her.
Suddenly he stopped. “We don’t have to,” he said quietly, “are you sure this is what you want–”
Lucia came to her knees before him, silencing him with a soft and gentle kiss to his lips. Her hand brushed down his front to replace his hand around his cock, sending white hot shocks of pleasure rippling through his body.
“I want you, Aemond.”
His restraint snapped. He tugged her shift up over her head and then his hands were everywhere, gripping at her breasts, her hips, her rear, while she continued to tug at his cock.
Somewhere in the mess of hunger and lust his mouth moved along her jaw, teeth, tongue and lips grazing over her skin. “Lie down.”
Lucia stared back at him, resting her hands against his chest.
“I said, lie down.”
The darkness of his voice had her shuffling back until her head fell against the pillows.
He came to kneel on the mattress and hovered over her, his silver hair falling around her face and brushing against her breasts. Finally he lifted one of her legs and hooked it around her waist, lining his tip against her entrance. “I’ll be gentle,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.
With that he began to press into her. He immediately felt how resistant she was to him, even with her slick, but inch by inch, he buried himself into her.
“You’re so tight,” he growled, “so tight for me, my sweet girl.”
Her back arched against the mattress as her eyes fluttered close and her face began to twist.
“Tell me how it feels,” he said, his voice rough as he fought the urge to fuck her quickly, thoroughly. She’d suffered enough these last years married to his cretin of a brother, he wanted to be the end of it, he wanted her to feel safe and adored, as she should have always been.
She brought her arms around his neck and her other leg around his waist. “Deep,” she whined, “so deep… so good…”
“Open your eyes," he pleaded, "let me look at you."
She pulled her face from his neck and opened her eyes, those perfect eyes, as deep, dark and endless as the night sky, glazed slightly with tears of bliss.
He could feel her easing into his size now, and he was getting restless, still gentle, but pushing in and out at a heightening pace.
He’d been wondering what she might be like longer than he cared to admit, dreaming of having her skin against his, his name on her lips, clawing at the memory of her when he entertained his carnal desires with his cock in his hand. And now, holding her, fucking her, having her beneath him and begging for her pleasure was beyond what he could have ever imagined. He felt euphoria with every thrust in her, so tight, so perfect, so willing.
While one of her hands gripped the side of the pillow she lay against, he guided the other down between them. “Stroke that pretty clit for me,” he said, “I want to see you cum again.”
Her voice was a slur of moans and curses. “Please, Aemond, please.”
“I’ll give you what you need,” he hummed, “my perfect girl, I’ll always give you what you need.”
She came with a pleading cry, milking him of his own release. He kept thrusting until he had spilled himself completely inside her, biting down on her shoulder to muffle the sound of his pleasure.
He pulled away to watch his seed drip from her twitching cunt before he dove in with his tongue again, pushing it back into her.
He felt her fingers in his hair and glanced back to her dazed expression. They stayed there for a moment, gazing once again into the eyes they each craved.
Until he crawled up the bed to lay beside her, pulling her into him, bodies intertwined under the bedsheets.
She traced a finger over his scar. She had never known him without it, never known the weak, naive child he was before Driftmark. “I used to be terrified of you,” she said.
He hummed a small laugh. “You hardly spoke to me for almost a year.”
“I always thought you were formidable, always absorbed in your studies or your training. That and the eyepatch.”
“It is better than what lies underneath.”
Her fingers came down to his cheek, turning him to face her. “No, I think I prefer you like this.”
He held her a little tighter. He knew he’d have to pull away, eventually, but for now he was content to have her in his arms, the girl who hadn’t cowered when he had finally shown her his scar. The girl with wide brown eyes, who looked upon him as he was, broken, marred, damaged, and had managed to find beauty.
#aemond targaryen#aemond x original female character#aemond smut#aemond fanfiction#aemond x y/n#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond “pussy eater” targaryen#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfiction#my fics
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