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shadowdaddies · 3 months

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Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: for those whom I told the next parts would be less angsty... that doesn't refer to this one I'm so sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

Your muscles were heavy from peaceful sleep, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as eyes fluttered open to see Aedion and Gavriel standing at the opposite side of the room from where you lay.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around to find yourself in a tent, piles of blankets and furs draped over where you had been sleeping on the ground.

“She’ll be furious with you,” Aedion whispered, seemingly unaware that you had awoken. “But I thank you,” he ground out, the resistance clear in his tone as he looked to your father.

Gavriel’s tawny eyes flicked to you, lined with sorrow as memories came rushing back. Your entire body heated with pure rage and fear, nails clawing into the covers of your makeshift bed as you tossed the covers away.

“You,” you seethed, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stood to face Gavriel. It was Aedion who stepped between you, his eyes showing a vulnerability you had yet to see him reveal in front of your father.

“I know you are upset. But for once,” he glanced pointedly at Gavriel, “he did the right thing. No good could have come from Maeve knowing that you are Fenrys’s mate.”

Hearing his name unleashed a wave of emotion, a lump catching in your throat as the bond screamed inside of you, longing for your other half. “He’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking as painful, hopeless thoughts eddied in a whirlpool, threatening to drown you. “I may never truly know my mate, because of you,” you growled the last word, tone piercing Gavriel enough to make him flinch.

Aedion fully stepped in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, covering your father from your view. “Listen to me. Maeve would have used you to torture him. She would have used you to torture Aelin. Saving him was not an option when he is so close to Maeve. Their blood oath is too strong.”

Your eyes shuttered as the hopeless realization crashed over you like an ocean wave knocking you below the surface. You stepped back, willing your thoughts to calm enough to look at Gavriel’s face, his expression full of guilt and worry. “I swear to you, we will find him. We will free him, if it is the last thing that I do.” He spoke with such conviction, you felt your heart soften, suddenly feeling guilty for how you had spoken to Gavriel.

Before you could find the words to apologize, Gavriel continued. “That is why we are headed north. Aedion leaves for Orynth shortly, but we will be joining Rowan along with Lorcan and Elide. So long as you feel that bond in your chest, we can use it to find Fenrys and Aelin.”

You nodded, shifting into the familiar mindset of a spy as you had lived for so long. “When do we leave?”

A soft, proud smile graced Aedion’s lips, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I leave now. I had just come to say goodbye,” he murmured. It was an all too familiar sentiment in your family - the sacrifice of leaving your loved ones in the name of duty.

“Stay safe. I will see you soon,” you responded, not an encouragement, but an oath - one that you clung to, your chest tight as your brother disappeared out the tent. Gaze flicking to Gavriel, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

“We leave as soon as Rowan returns from the neighboring town. He and Elide are there looking for information from the locals, and we will decide where to travel from there.” All you could manage was a nod, your emotions still roiling deep within underneath your calm facade.

You packed in silence, Gavriel’s stare burning into your side as you avoided interaction. You had just finished packing and dismantling your tent when Rowan and Elide returned, their eyes lit with a similar wired determination as your own.

Pine green eyes locked with yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you and Rowan - that the two of you would allow the world to burn to ash before you would allow it to take your mates.

“We’re leaving for Doranelle,” Rowan announced, brooking no room for questions before he helped load your and Elide’s bags onto horses. Giving Rowan a sharp nod, you followed suit, gathering necessities for the journey.

The dying embers of the campfire the only trace of your existence in the forest, your group headed for Doranelle, Rowan letting out a cry as he shifted into hawk form, soaring above as you journeyed below. The day passed mostly in silence, tensions thick between you and your father, and Elide and Lorcan.

At your request, Elide explained in brief detail why you were headed towards one of Maeve’s strongholds. She and Rowan had come across one of Maeve’s soldiers at an inn, but the shudder that passed through her when you asked for more told you all that you needed to know about how Rowan acquired that information, and you let the conversation drop.

The sun had long since set when fatigue weighed heavy on your bones, head aching from lack of food and rest. Gavriel sensed it, his too-knowing eyes scanning your sluggish movements, the limp that Elide was trying to hide.

“We will stop here for the night,” he spoke, low voice not allowing any arguments, not that you could form any. You practically crashed into the ground where you stood at his words, Elide settling next to you as Lorcan gathered kindling.

There remained little talk among the group. You couldn’t speak for others, but you knew that if you tried to speak, emotions would burst forth like water through a broken dam, the carefully maintained mask of strength you were wearing to be shattered into pieces. Gavriel, Lorcan, and Elide mumbled their good nights, while you and Rowan sat by the fire.

The twisting, flickering flames held your attention in a captivating dance, the only distraction you could find from the constant agony you felt throughout your body, the unbearable weight of your mate’s pain echoing in each fiber of your soul.

You dared a glance at Rowan, his sharp eyes moving from the fire towards you. You supposed the fire meant something different to him - a reminder of his other half, the closest thing he had to her in this moment. It was a different kind of pain, but one that you could understand as the others did not.

“Do you feel her, too?” you managed, voice cracking through the strained whisper. Rowan’s brow dipped, confusion flickering across his features before understanding settled.

“No,” he choked, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing. “No, I cannot feel her through the bond. I think whatever But I know she is there, she is alive. That much I can feel.” A shaky breath escaped you, eyes lining with silver as you curled into your body, gaze focused back on the flames in front of you.

“Can you? Feel him?” Rowan pressed, voice soft as the night breeze. Your eyes squeezed shut, the only hope you had to keep those tears from falling, but one escaped, cold warm against your chilled skin as it traced your cheek.

“Yes,” you breathed, a sob building in your lungs as you gasped for air. “Yes, I feel everything. I feel his pain, I feel his loneliness, I-“

Words were stolen from your lungs as your chest seized, inexplicable pain, grief, bringing you to your knees. You were vaguely aware of Rowan’s presence, a warm hand on your back as sobs wracked your body. Wave after wave of grief and shame barreled into you, body shaking with the force of emotions being thrust upon you.

“Breathe,” Rowan murmured, his hand on your back a grounding comfort as the emotions faded, a distinct numbness filling your senses. Emptiness consumed your being, the only reminder that you were still alive the flames in front of you.

Silver hair illuminated in the firelight, moving into your vision as Rowan kneeled in front of you. “Can you say... what happened?” he breathed, fear in his eyes as he dared the question.

“He’s not... he isn’t dead,” you managed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly as Rowan visibly relaxed. “Something terrible happened, Rowan. If what I felt was only a small part of what Fenrys is feeling...” Whatever hold you had on your own emotions was lost in that moment, tears falling freely as you cried.

Another hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up through blurry eyes to see your father watching you, heartbreak written on his features. On instinct, you crashed into him, throwing your arms around Gavriel’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

Conversations were happening in the background - Lorcan and Elide apparently also wakened by your cries - but you held onto your father, finding a small piece of solace in having him here.

Gavriel’s hand lifted, a canteen handed to him which he brought to your hands. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, tawny eyes observing carefully as your shaky hands gripped the vessel. Forcing small sips of water down your throat, breathing came easier, and you noticed Rowan, Lorcan, and Elide all standing nearby.

“I’m not going to stay the night,” Rowan said, moving back towards where you sat. “If you want to rest, Gavriel will stay with you and Elide. But if you-“

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted. Rowan merely nodded, as thought your response was exactly what he expected. Lorcan was already moving, packing and loading supplies as Rowan’s power suffocated the fire.

You walked in line with Gavriel, leaves and sticks crunching under your boots as owls hooted against the still-darkened sky. “I can feel him, still,” you murmured, eyes downcast at your scuffed, muddied shoes. “I feel him, but it’s different than before. He’s... hollow. It’s like this numbness, and I can’t reach his end of the bond, so I don’t know if he can feel me.”

Your eyes burned with tears you were too drained to shed when Gavriel grabbed your hand, turning you to stop and look up at him. “Do not give up. I know it hurts, I know what Maeve is capable of. But please, be better than me. Fight for Fenrys. He deserves that. You deserve that. And we will find him, and Aelin.”

Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to your father’s cheek, your eyes never leaving his as you spoke. “You did the right thing. I have already mourned a childhood without you, but I’ve been allowed to know you now, and I am so thankful for a father as selfless as you, who was willing to sacrifice seeing his children grow to keep us safe. You didn’t give up, and I will not either.”

You both turned, heads snapping forward towards the road ahead as Gavriel cleared his throat, eyes shining with emotion as you continued the rest of your walk in silence.

By the time you arrived in Doranelle, your feet hurt like never before, entire body sore from long travels and lack of sleep. Your group hid in the trees just outside the main road through town. Elide turned to you, a fire in her eyes that lit one in your chest.

“The males are too recognizable, so you will all stay out here and keep a low profile while I go into town. I’m going to see if anyone has information about Cairn’s location, because we know he’s with Aelin and Fenrys.”

You shook your head. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going alone into town, and it would be suspicious if you were by yourself.” You looked around, Lorcan giving you a grateful smile while Gavriel opened his mouth as if to argue. Before he could say anything, you took Elide’s hand and set off towards town.

Doranelle was bustling, people shopping and selling throughout the streets, men calling for your attention as the two of you walked at a brisk pace, eyes and ears open for any sign of danger.

Multiple groups of people shuffled in the same direction, your gaze following their movements towards a pub that appeared to be full of travelers and locals alike. “That’s where we should go,” you murmured to Elide, her dark eyes joining yours as she studied the tavern’s entrance.

Releasing your hand, Elide led the way into the building, instructing you to take a seat wherever you could find one as she took the lead. You found a small booth, thankful for the weight off your feet and even the rancid beer a barmaid slid your way.

It was pure entertainment, a respite from the hellish reality you had been living lately, as you watched Elide put on a show of the helpless maiden. Batting her long lashes, giving shy smiles, she wrung any information she could from the tavern’s patrons while you kept watch.

Everyone seemed taken by her story, the heartbroken lover of Maeve’s general, except for one female. She lounged at one of the tables, chestnut brown eyes watching Elide with a keen, quiet interest. And then Elide mentioned Cairn.

A hush fell over the room, the mood instantly sobering at the mention of the newest member of Maeve’s cadre. Expressions turned cold, even sour as people closed themselves off to Elide’s charm. They definitely knew something, and as you watched Elide excuse herself to the washroom, you caught the striking female with chestnut eyes from before stand up quickly, dark brown hair flowing around her as she turned and followed Elide down the hall.

You were quick behind her, dagger sheathed discreetly at your side. Using your blade, you wedged open the door to the washroom to find Elide wide-eyed, tension thick in the air as she and the female stared at each other.

Your blade quickly found the female’s neck, your foot kicking the door shut behind you. “Who are you, and what do you know?” you questioned, voice lethally calm.

The female didn’t struggle, her demeanor relaxed as she spoke. “My name is Essar. I mean no harm - I simply wanted to warn your friend to stay away from Cairn. But it appears she is better protected than I believed.”

Her voice remained calm as she dared to turn towards you, unbothered at how your blade dug further into her skin. “Why do you look for Cairn, truly?”

Your gaze hardened on Essar, assessing the trustworthiness of this new character. “That would depend. What is he to you?” you asked, releasing her so slightly from your hold.

A scoff escaped her lips, nearly a slight laugh as though your question was absurd. “He is nothing to me. And Maeve is less than nothing,” she ground out, venom lacing her tone. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at her spite.

“We have business to attend to regarding Cairn,” you murmured, gaze flicking towards the door to check it was closed.

A knowing gleam shone in Essar’s eyes. “You have Gavriel’s eyes,” she whispered, clearing her throat as she studied you and Elide. “Cairn is at the camp just north of town. He was seen there this morning.”

It was an effort to not let your surprise show, but somehow you knew that you could trust Essar. Hope sprang in your chest, as though the bond was confirming Fenrys was close. “Thank you,” you murmured, to Essar, hand reaching for the doorknob as you gestured for Elide to follow.

“Give them Hell,” Essar said, chin raised proudly. You gave her a final nod of thanks before slipping out the door. Elide could barely keep up with your pace as you raced through town, back to the edge of the woods where the males waited. Now that you knew where Fenrys was, nothing could hold you back from finding him.

You were both short of breath, struggling to explain all that Essar had shared with you at the tavern. “I believe her,” you said, looking to Rowan and Gavriel for validation. But it was Lorcan whose eyes grew soft as you spoke of the female you had met, the other males looking to Lorcan for only a brief moment before Rowan cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“We can trust her,” he said. “I’ll take to the skies. You follow my lead - we’ll walk around town to avoid running into Maeve’s soldiers for now.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as Rowan launched into the air, your group quietly following the path of the hawk as it led you around the edge of town. Sounds of soldiers running drills, sparring, blacksmiths at work all filled your ears as rows and rows of tents came into view.

Breath caught in your lungs, the twist of hope and fear electric as it shot through your body. A warm hand wrapped around yours, and you looked down as Gavriel gave it a comforting squeeze. “I am with you,” he whispered.

Words evaded you, but you managed to nod to your father - a silent acknowledgment: "I am with you, too."

Scanning the grounds of the camp, you searched for a way in. There were too many tents, too many places Fenrys and Aelin could be. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bloody cry of a hawk, and before your mind could catch up to your body, you found yourself running, sword drawn, towards the center of camp where Rowan flew.

Soldiers charged you, your adrenaline pumping as you cut them down one by one. Red flooded your gaze as you saw a shell of a female, weighed in familiar iron shackles as she stumbled out of a tent on thin legs.

Blood pounded in your ears, the faint sound of Lorcan yelling at your side all that you could register as Aelin ran towards you. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as you locked eyes with your cousin through the iron mask she wore, heart somehow shattered and whole at the sight of her, alive yet broken.

“Fenrys,” she choked. “Fenrys!” Aelin’s voice cried. She whipped around like a wild animal caught in a trap, yelling at Rowan and Lorcan, pleading for them to find your mate.

You rose to chase after him, but Rowan’s pleading look settled that rage within you - he would find your mate while you protected his. And so you watched him run through the camp with Lorcan, a beautiful storm of chaos as the warriors partnered seamlessly in battle.

The clanking of chains pulled you from your daze, Aelin scratching at her binds. “Take it off take it off take it OFF,” she screamed, voice hoarse as she chanted violently. Rowan appeared by her side, his hands working as they tried to find an opening on the mask. Rowan.

Your eyes went wild, an unexplainable ache carving itself into your chest as you stood, spinning clumsily while you searched for any sign of Fenrys. The sight of white fur on the ground, Gavriel leaning over the wolf who lay, covered in blood and barely breathing snapped something within you.

As your father gave you a helpless look, the world cleaved in two, as though half of your soul was ripped from your chest. Collapsing to the ground, your hand wove in Fenrys’s fur as onyx eyes gazed at you, unblinking.

There was no room in your heart for more tears at this point. Everything had been taken from you - so you lay there, watching the last hope you had for a future, for love, as he faded away.

You didn’t head the commotion behind you as Rowan managed to break the Wyrd marks locking Aelin’s chains, how she crawled weakly to Fenrys’s side across from you. The words, “live, Fenrys. Live,” echoed through your head, Aelin’s voice like a helpless prayer.

And then he blinked. Gold flecks shone in his eyes, chest rising slowly as your mate released a soft whine. Your heart burst with joy, love pouring from your end of the bond as you were finally able to reach Fenrys.

Your hand reached out to him just as he shifted into his human form, long blonde curls fallen across his beautiful face as he stared at you. “Is this real?” he rasped, and you nodded, a broken laugh escaping as you sat up, pulling Fenrys’s head into your lap as his hands found yours, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“He’s gone,” Fenrys whispered, his gaze distant. You felt it then - the hollow feeling, the numbness you had felt through the bond. “Connall,” he murmured, eyes finding yours as a tear rolled down his cheek, and you understood. Fenrys had lost a part of himself - Maeve had taken so much from your mate.

“I will kill her,” you vowed.

Fenrys’s hand lifted to brush your cheek. “You were my hope. The only strength I found to keep going.”

Taking his hand from your cheek, you pressed a kiss to his palm. Flames danced in your eyes. “For what she did to you, to Connall, to Aelin. She will burn.”

tag list: @hellodarling1357 @sassyslytherinshai

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

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hi there, can you write something fluffy for fenrys??

Book Delivery

Fenrys x reader

A/n: I haven't written for Fen in so long and he's literally one of my favs from ToG. He deserves happiness after everything he's been through

Warnings: none

Fenrys watched from the balcony as Aelin walked you through the castle gates. He lets out a dreamy sigh as you throw your head back from laughing at something the queen said. Fenrys was so lost in his little fantasy land he missed Rowan come to stand next to him.

“You feeling ok?” Fenrys jumps, backing away from the railing and clutching at his heart. “Good gods! Don’t do that Rowan!” The king couldn’t help the shit eating grin that spread across his lips. Rowan looks out at your retreating figure as you leisurely walk back to town. “Aelin thinks you two would make a great match.”

Fenrys lets out an annoyed huff, taking his piercing gaze off of Rowan and watching you again. He was always so charming and smooth when it came to talking to females. For some reason when he tried speaking to you Fenrys always made a fool of himself. He either tripped over air or fumbled with his words before excusing himself. There was no other way to say it, Fenrys is in love with you.

How could he not be? You’re so kind and intelligent and beautiful. Fenrys can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach when you’re around.

A week later - on the day you usually visit, Fenrys noted - Aelin called him into her office. Striding through the open door Fenrys stopped before her desk, sketching a bow before standing with his hands behind his back. “What can I do for you?” Aelin gave him a smile that told Fenrys she was scheming. Fenrys mentally rolled his eyes, waiting for Aelin to tell her plan.

“I need you to do me a favor.” She said sweetly. “Nothing crazy, just an errand that I can’t get to today.” Fenrys nodded. “What kind of errand?” The queen’s smile became toothy and far too happy looking for his liking. “Can you go to y/n’s store for me and pick up the book she set aside for me?”

Fenrys felt his heart stutter in his chest. He had never been to your store. He had avoided it at all costs after the second time he made a fool of himself in front of you. “Erm…” He had to answer quickly before Aelin turned this into a command and he no choice. Not like he had one anyway. If Aelin already thought you two were a match the whole court must know by now. And Fenrys would never hear the end of it from Lysandra if he never made a move.

“Yes.” He blurts out. “Excellent.” Aelin claps her hands in approval and stands to guide Fenrys from her office. “And no rush whatsoever. Take your time, enjoy a stroll through the city. Get some tea with someone. But don’t come back here without my book.” She said sternly before shutting the door on him.

Upon entering the bustling city Fenrys found himself taking the long way to your shop. Inevitably he found himself standing outside your shop, dreading how he would mess up this conversation with you. Inhaling deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, Fenrys pushed open the door to your shop.

The bell ringing above his head caught your attention immediately. You rushed to the front of the store, your arms full of books. Your eyes widen in surprise at the tall male in the middle of your small book store. “Hi,” you say cheerily, “Fenrys, right?” It took all of his training to keep calm. To keep the butterflies from swarming his insides.

“Y-yes. Yup, that’s me.” Dear gods he hoped Lorcan would show up and stab him.

Then you did something unexpected. You giggled at him. It wasn’t a pity laugh, you genuinely giggled. Fenrys smiled at you. Realizing you looked like you were about to drop the stack of books in your arms Fenrys cleared the space between you, reaching his hands out to help. “Can I take these for you?” “Oh, yes. That would be great, thank you.”

As you handed over half the stack Fenrys noticed your hands were shaking. If it was because of him he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. You cleared your throat before speaking again. “Can you put them on the front counter?” “Of course.” You give him a small nod and lead him to the counter.

After putting the books down you nervously fiddled with your hair, glancing at Fenrys every other second. You felt like you always messed up when you spoke to him. That awkward laugh would always leave your lips and you always forgot where you were going when you bumped into him in the castle.

Clearing your throat you finally look make eye contact. Maybe that’s too much eye contact, you think to yourself. Fenrys isn’t shying away though. If anything he’s looking at you with the same shy, unsure intensity.

An awkward moment of silence passes between the two of you before Fenrys finally remembers why he’s here. “Aelin sent me to pick up her book. She said you had it set aside for her.”

The realization clicked in your eyes and your cheeks redden. It was silly to think he was there for you. Pulling the book from the shelf behind you and turning back to Fenrys you give him a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as you felt. “Here you go.” His fingers brushed against yours. You felt a warmth rush through your body at the soft touch.

Your cheeks heat even more as you bite back your smile. Fenrys takes the book giving you a reassuring smile. “Thanks,” he says softly. “You’re welcome.” He nods and turns to leave. Fenrys cringes at himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

He stopped with his hand on the door, thinking screw it. Marching back up to the counter Fenrys takes a deep breath. You look up at him with bright curiosity in your eyes. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

You nod your head excitedly. “I would love that. Is tomorrow night ok?” “Absolutely.” You give him a bright smile. Taking out a pen and paper you write down your address for him. He takes it happily and practically skips out of your store back to the castle.

#throne of glass imagine #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #Fenrys moonbeam #Fenrys throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam x you #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys x you #fenrys fluff #throne of glass fenrys

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saphirered · 8 months

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I have a request! I am in desperate need of anything for fenrys X reader 😩 I love a good enemies to lovers Trope 😏 (but you can do what you want!!)

It's been a while so why not kick off with a 3 part story. 1.5k each sound good? Here's the first part. Enemies comes first so expect some angst and canon typical violence. Happy reading! 😘

When he took the oath he followed his twin because they stood together. They’d remain together no matter what. Fenrys, though blinded by all that glory had to offer, was not entirely disillusioned with the strings that came attached even if he tried to desperately ignore them until he couldn’t. Things got worse of course. The further he strayed, the tighter the leash. He told himself it was simply a price to pay; one where his brother would be safe, where he could live his life freely some of the time and live gloriously. Was it worth it? He used to think so. Though what frustrated him is that no matter what, there would always be this thorn in his side, the true pearl in Maeve’s collection of empty shells. You. Maeve might lack the ability to love and truly care for anyone but herself but when it came to you there was a weird sense of possessiveness. The Cadre might have been the prized bloodhounds and guard dogs, but you were something different entirely. You were her songbird; to sing at her command, to be shown off as a prized possession and put on display for all to see. What made Fenrys hate you is that you seemed o bask in the glow of it all.

You stood at Maeve’s side always. You never had the need to warp her words to take some illusion of freedom, to escape her clutches for a moment longer before the leash pulled you in. There was no leash on you. Maeve never had you swear the oath. You were just there, you could walk out of Doranelle but you chose to stay at her side. You stood there with your head held high. You needed not fear the strike of a whip. No rope would wrap around your neck and choke the air out of your lungs for a misspoken word. There was no reason for you to follow her commands other than loyalty. Your loyalty had to be a choice because you’d seen it all, you stood there and watched the bloodshed and torture and pain inflicted upon others. You did not even turn your head when faced with the horrors. You simply stared with cold indifference.

What Fenrys didn’t know was you might not be on that same leash as him, you are caged either way. Maeve took great pleasure in the fact she did not need to have you swear the blood oath. No what she had on you would be more than enough to keep you from rebelling, from stepping even one toe out of line. You had been there before Fenrys so he had not witnessed the torture you endured; that if you looked away from the bloodcurdling screams, from the pleading and begging and met them with anything other than indifference at best or cruelty of your own at worst, you would be offered the same punishment as them. You were a prisoner and no amount of torture had you spill the secrets you kept. It was an eternal stalemate. Torturing and killing loved ones, that simply wouldn’t do. You’d die with them and you’d be useless, but keeping you around even if she would have to wait centuries for you to finally break and spill, not only was she patient but she took great pleasure in it all; in what you’d become.

While the cadre was sent out to fight wars and bask in the glory of bloodshed, your dalliances with the upper class of nations were no secret. When those nations failed to submit to Maeve’s wishes, you’d swoop in and convince them otherwise. When rebellion arose, you’d be the face trying to quell and snuff the flames before they could spark. You’d use your charm and body to entice and bring the most favourable outcome for Maeve. At some point Fenrys considered you might have been as in love with her as Lorcan and you’re simply wrapped around her finger. He hated you for the special treatment you got. He hated how okay you were with everything you faced, how you presented yourself like you were better than them. He hated that in Maeve’s eyes you could do no wrong and they’d be sent to clean up the mess where your persuasions and deception failed where they got tortured for setting one foot out of line. So he would make you pay in his own way. Of course he would not dare lay a hand on you, especially unprovoked, be that out of fear for Maeve or simply because it felt wrong, there is plenty of ways to press someone’s buttons and he just happens to be very good at it. That’s exactly what he spent the next century or so doing.

What a blessing it was to have you be sent along on a mission. There was no escape for you, and no one to truly punish him for his awful behaviour. If you were to be his warden then he would make that a living hell for you. He’d done so successfully that now you sent Gavriel with him in your stead to negotiate with the Pirate Lord. He’d watched you burn from within but then you’d take that frustrating breath and all emotion would ebb away. Your pretty face would turn ever so cold once more and thus with it the small spark of satisfaction on his end died away. He submitted to your command either way. He had to. Maeve’s orders.

When he returned he saw you on that couch, head bowed forward, hands in your hair. If he dared be so bold, he would have sworn he saw the light tremble to your body but it instantly disappeared upon his arrival.

“Why so glum, sunshine?” He decided to gracelessly drop himself onto the couch opposite of you. You brush your hair from your face and look up, once again eyes deadly cold, though right now there’s an exhaustion haunting your entire being he cannot quite place.

“I’m not in the mood for your teasings, Fenrys.” You struggle to keep the inner turmoil from your voice. You have to be strong. You have to be thick-skinned. You have to keep taking the blows. Not like you don’t deserve them. Now more than ever must your resilience last.

“You never are. Now are you going to tell me who pissed in your soup? I’d like to personally thank them for getting you to show even an ounce of discomfort and might want to ask for some pointers on how to wear you out like that. You keep refusing my other advances after all. I’d say exhaustion suits you but…” You can’t do this. You’re hanging on by a silken thread and it’s about to snap. You rise to your feet and make for the door but just before you reach he is blocking your way. You try to get around him but he holds you back.

Fenrys is too caught up in his own mind to realise you flinch at his touch, how you pull away. He misses that paranoia and drop of remorse blinking through you. He’s too focused on making your life hell and right now you’re making it very easy for him. You’re not one to run away but rarely there is no one else to tell him off, to face him with the consequences and remind him of his stupidity. He’s had his toes stepped on already. He’ll take great pleasure in playing this eternal game with you. He might not be able to get to Maeve to get recompense, but he sure as hell can take those grievances out on you.

“Fenrys let me go.” You demand. Your breath is high in your chest as he holds onto your shoulders. You shake him off and step out of reach but still he stands between you and your escape to the outside.

“Or what? You’ll tattle on me to Maeve?” He mocks. You can clearly see that frustration burn beneath his skin and he has every reason to be frustrated. You’ve stood by for decades. You were perfectly fine letting his brother suffer, letting him suffer if it meant you kept the strings in hand. If it takes being cruel then so be it. You’ll be cruel. You’ll strike where it hurts. Your words are much sharper than your claws and they cut far deeper. He was not prepared for what you said next. He did not count on his impulsiveness to be so crippling to his better judgement.

“If I do we both know you won’t be the ones to suffer at her hand for it.” That’s it. Fenrys snaps. Next he knows you’re against the wall and his hand grabs your throat. You struggle to breath from the crushing force and claw at his hand to no avail. No, you weren’t truly trying. He sees it now; acceptance, relief even. In that very moment you are prepared to meet your end. He wouldn’t have done it of course, he might be stupid but he’s not outright suicidal but you didn’t know that. It’s the first time he’s truly seen you break. He has half the mind to wonder; never has he seen you break, so what has gotten you to do so now? He noticed the crack in your perfectly crafted armour. It took him a while before he realised there were many more.

“Lay a hand on Connall and I will personally repay you in kind. With interest.” He lets go and air enters your lungs once more. You wobble on unsteady feet as he exits through that door and leaves you alone with your thoughts. Once you are sure he’s truly gone you simply drop to the ground, hug your knees and stare into the abyss. You’d ran out of tears a long time ago.

#throne of glass x reader #throne of glass #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #tog x reader #kingdom of ash #tog fanfic

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lethendralis-paints · 10 months

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Had an awesome opportunity to paint a fic illustration for @cypheroftyr. This one features Dorian, Fenris, Leto (Fenris's au twin who became the Tevinter archon) and Anders, having some difficult conversations over dinner. Loved bringing this scene to life!

#my art #fan art #art commission #dragon age #alternate universe #fic illustration #fenris #leto #dorian pavus #anders #tevinter

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onewaywardwitch · 1 year

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“you talk about me like i’m worth writing poetry for.”

“love, you are the reason poetry was created.”

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ltcommandershepard · 1 year

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hate it when in the year of our lord 2023 people who claim to be "fans" of fenris still characterize him as a "broody aggressive a**hole" who mindlessly hates all mages and communicates by snarling and grunting at the other companions... buddy boy we don't have time to unpack all that but it sure is funny that people choose to take a well spoken abuse victim and act like he's a wild animal

#dragon age #fenris #fandom critical #“how dare anders call fenris a wild dog”#*proceeds to describe fenris snarling and growling in every fic and post*#can't really complain about anders calling him names when you literally describe him acting Like That #i could write an essay on this #lmao

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mrs-theirin · 4 months

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“Bianca’s getting married.”

“Oh, I’m very happy for her. Is it to a charming Honda Civic? Or is that too young for her?”

Her joke didn’t land well. He sighed heavily. “The real Bianca."

Eden Hawke and Varric Tethras have been friends for 7 years. Their bond is unbreakable, which is why when Varric asks Eden to be his fake date to his on-again/off-again ex girlfriend Bianca's wedding, she agrees immediately. The two of them embark on the road trip of a lifetime, one they will never forget. ♫

Beginning | Last Chapter | Latest Chapter

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jazzmckay · 5 months

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soft little fenders ficlet because the mood struck <3

Anders has been growing his hair out. It hangs past his shoulders now; sometimes he ties it back, other times he leaves it free, lets it fall where it may, not minding when the wind swirls it into tangles. On such occasions, Fenris finds himself running his fingers through it, gauntlet removed and touch gentle, easing the knots loose. Anders' hair is soft, and running his fingers through it feels nice.

From the smile Anders always gives him after, it feels nice to him too, so Fenris keeps doing it, even if he is unused to--and therefore unsure about--giving such simple affections.

It's warm enough on the northern border between the Free Marches and Antiva that Anders ties his hair up in a messy bun more often than not when he goes to work in the tiny garden they've started behind the cabin they're currently inhabiting. It's a nice cabin, and easily defensible, too--they may stay here longer than they've stayed anywhere else.

While Anders tends to the plants, Fenris fills a wash basin and cleans the pile of laundry that has gathered over the past week. His attention is divided, half on his soapy hands, half on Anders. Some strands of his hair fall loose from the tie. If one gets in his face, he blows and shakes it away, still intent on his work. His hands move with practised motions, firm and precise.

By the time Fenris is pinning up their clothes to dry, Anders is finished. He takes the washing basin with him when he goes inside, off to wash up himself.

Fenris follows once he's done his task, and finds Anders sitting on the end of the bed they share, his hands clean and working a brush through his untied hair.

The sight of him makes Fenris still just to take him in, even though he's been treated to the sight of Anders relaxed, in loose, plain clothes, and with the lines of his face smoothed out, many times now. Almost every day, as Kirkwall fades into the past, relinquishing its hold.

Fenris finally steps over to him, and Anders lifts his face to meet his gaze. "Beautiful mage," Fenris murmurs as he cups Anders' cheek and leans down to kiss him.

Anders' fingers clutch the back of Fenris' tunic as he returns the kiss, holding onto him. He always does something of the sort when Fenris initiates, like he needs him closer, needs him to linger as long as possible.

Fenris draws his fingers through Anders' combed hair, both enjoying the sensation and as a gesture of reassurance. When they part from the kiss, Fenris takes the brush from Anders' hand and settles on the mattress with him, picking up from where he interrupted Anders' brushing.

As he passes the brush through Anders' hair, Anders goes boneless, shoulders completely loose and head tipped forward. Fenris can't resist sweeping his hair aside to kiss his nape, which earns him a soft sound of approval.

The last of the tangles are smoothed out easily, then Fenris sets the brush aside on the patchy blanket, bringing both hands up to gather Anders' hair within them. The tie is around Anders' wrist; he would hand it over, if Fenris offered to put his hair back up, but that hadn't crossed Fenris' mind, initially. He only wants to touch, and wants to soothe.

Still, an unexpected inclination comes over him as he's running his fingers through. He parts Anders' hair into a few narrow strands, beginning to weave them in a way that starts forming a braid, even though Fenris has never learned how. At least, he has no recollection of learning how, but muscle memory takes over, and soon Anders' hair is pulled into an intricate braid that starts wide and tapers to a tiny point.

"I didn't know you could do this," Anders says as he raises a hand and brushes his fingers blindly over the braid, feeling the weave of it.

"Neither did I," Fenris admits. "Maybe... I did this for Varania, or our mother. A long time ago."

Anders turns enough to look at him, taking his hand in a comforting hold.

Thinking of his family doesn't sting as much as it did after Varania's betrayal. Fenris is almost at peace with it, almost able to accept a past he doesn't remember but was still important to him, once upon a time. Regardless, Anders is his family now, and the others too, even if they've mostly gone separate ways. Anders is the one here with him, holding his hand and looking at him with love in his eyes.

"I like it," Anders says. "Will you do it for me again?"

Fenris nods. "Whenever you like."

Anders smiles and shifts closer, leaning in to rest against Fenris' chest. Fenris wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, as eager as Anders always is for there to be no space left between them.

#just randomly got the headcanon that fenris can braid hair and ran with it #my fic #dragon age #fenders

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barbex · 3 months

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Happy Friday! How about "look i’m not coddling you, i’m just trying to help. i wanna take care of you cause i, you know— care about you." for Fenders? 💖

Thank you! A wonderful opportunity for another fenders @dadrunkwriting ficlet.

---

“Go away.”

Anders wrings out a tea towel, spins it in the air a few times, and drapes it over Fenris’ forehead. “No.”

Fenris sniffles, his voice turning nasal. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. Leave me alone.”

Anders sighs. “I do, in fact, know that.” He takes the mug of tea he made half an hour ago and discreetly warms it back up in his hand. “Come, sit up and drink the tea.” He takes the towel away and slides his hand behind Fenris’ back to help him up.

“I can sit,” Fenris huffs. But he takes the mug and drinks from it, so Anders counts it as a win. Fenris glares at him over the rim of the mug. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

“I’m not coddling you, I’m just trying to help.” Anders leaves Fenris’ side, before the pink shade on his cheeks can give him away. Not only is Fenris adorable in this state of sniffling grumpiness, he also doesn’t have to know how much Anders needs to take care of him. How solid that need sits in his chest and beats in time with his heart. “I’m a healer, It's what I do.”

“What good of a healer are you if you can’t make this go away?” Fenris gestures at his red and puffy nose, his face scrunches up, and Anders shoves a handkerchief into his hand, just as his whole body gets shaken by a sneeze. He falls back onto the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

Anders turns to the table where he set up a workstation with mortar and pestle and a variety of herbs and roots. “I can help you with the symptoms, but I can’t magic away the cold. Your body has to fight this itself.”

“What is your magic good for, then?” Fenris mumbles into the pillow.

“For helping you sleep, if you let me,” Anders says as he grinds up herbs and steeps them in hot water. “And for getting hunted and arrested and made tranquil,” he continues quietly. Carrying the mug with the new infusion over to Fenris’ bed, he keeps his eyes on the mug, careful not to spill anything. “Here, drink this, it will calm the symptoms. You’ll sleep better and I won’t even have to use magic.”

When he looks up, Fenris stares at him. Anders sets the mug on the sidetable and sits down on the mattress to help Fenris sit up again. “What?” he asks when Fenris just keeps staring.

“They hunt you,” Fenris says, as if he just now realises it.

“Yes. Now, sit up one more time and drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Fenris dutifully sits up and drinks, looking at Anders the whole time. When he lies back down, his eyes flit around, looking anywhere but at him.

“What is it?” Anders asks.

Fenris’ gaze snaps to him, which would look more impressive if he didn’t have a drop of snot hanging on his nose. “What do you mean?”

Anders hands him another handkerchief. “You want to say something.”

Frowning, Fenris blows his nose. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve known you for years. You’re fidgeting when you want to say something but don’t know how.”

A huff, but it turns into a sniffle. “I don’t fidget.”

Anders barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Everything hurts,” Fenris says quietly. “The markings, my arms, everything.”

“Do you allow me a gentle healing spell? Just for that pain?”

“Yes,” Fenris says, turning away. “Please.”

Anders swallows all snarky remarks he could provide right now, easily, and focuses on the spell, letting his magic spread over Fenris’ body. He watches him for signs of disapproval, but Fenris’ face relaxes and his hands unclench as the spell dulls the pain. Anders keeps the magic up on a low level, just enough to help Fenris relax. “You should sleep now,” he whispers.

Fenris closes his eyes and turns to the side. When he tugs the duvet around his body, Anders hears Fenris mumble, “I still do not understand why you are here.”

“Because I care,” Anders says, wiping the hair away from Fenris’ forehead and dabbing it with the wet towel. Stepping back from the bed, he looks at Fenris’ sleeping form. “Because I'm a fool and I care about you,” he whispers to himself.

#dadrunkwriting #fenders #Fenris #Anders #fenders fic #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

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✧poly!Rowaelin✧ ✧poly!Manorian✧

✧Manon✧

obedient* just one afternoon quiet* of no consequence another lesson* dating manon and nesta running from the truth* forbidden fruit red* manon helping you on your period a little help pine trees and storm clouds teaching moment you're hiding something* breaking point*

✧Dorian✧

not worth remembering patience* tuesdays all eyes are on you there you go again the right reasons* the art of relaxing breathless* pretty poison a favor

✧Fenrys✧

end of the night* broken promises ↳ (part two) get up off the roof between the heavens and the embers lovemaking* deadly instincts busy mornings

✧Manon x Reader x Asterin✧

think for yourself ↳ you did learn pretend* lifeline on the edge*

✧Aelin✧

morning dew and flames* I could be a better boyfriend keep it together*

✧Asterin✧

berries* born rivals audience* supposed to be us

✧poly!Elorcan✧

exploring pleasure*

✧Elide✧

closed doors & open bottles

✧Asterin x Reader x Elide✧

cinnamon

✧Rowan✧

keep still* a friendly hand* old faces ↳ continued as poly!rowaelin

✧Lorcan✧

finishing up work* a deal between friends* capable of chaos

✧Gavriel✧

pretty apologies*

✧Lorcan & Fenrys & Rowan✧

the arrangement*

✧Next Gen✧

Lysaedion's Daughter pick them better ↳ take two (pt2) snitch questionable decisions (x manorian's son) Rowaelin's Daughter reasonable situation secrets never last all good things come to an end

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good. He could deal with that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin.

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” was his quick response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

“Oh just… everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is their goalie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

Win your game tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

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

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking.

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

“You played…”

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

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

“No. Have you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Note

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

Not on Speaking Terms

Cadre x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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saphirered · 8 months

Text

Caged Birds Don't Sing

As promised Part 2 of this Fenrys x reader request! We're getting more angst but what do you expect from enemies to lovers? Hope you like it! 😘

You stood at her side. You stood at Maeve’s damned side on that beach. Of course she would have you stand there. You would look down upon them. Fenrys expected indifference if not betrayal for their disobedience, or perhaps satisfaction that they’d be punished for their actions. He expected you to laugh at Gavriel’s pain, to speak to them, tear at open wounds but you were silent. You made no move. He deigned to look at you, if only to assure you wouldn’t pounce at the first opportunity. He would have been ready to rip your throat out. He might not have thought twice about it had Maeve severed his bond too but she knew his greatest torment would be to keep it in place. It’s in that image he notices your throat, how it’s tense and how you swallow, how your breathing is higher than it should be. He notices something behind that eternal gaze into oblivion and he realises, you are not the fae he holds in his memory. You are in pain. You’re in turmoil and you’re fighting so desperately to keep in place whatever facade you’ve put on.

You’ve never looked away from the abuse Maeve put them through but this time, you turn your gaze and bite the inside of your cheek. You clasp your hands together to keep the trembles from them or perhaps to stop yourself from taking reckless action. When you force yourself to look, when Aelin accepts her fate, you keep your eyes on her. Behind that surface mask so cracked and broken, one can see the pain, the guilt and regret and sense of failure. You mouth the words ‘I am sorry’ for none but them to see, for those who pay attention. The porcelain mask no longer remains in its perfect state. Everyone knows what Maeve does to broken dolls.

————

When the screams have gone quiet and no longer echo through the halls of Doranelle Fenrys lays at the base of that damned throne. The clicking of footsteps against those damned floors are both blessing and curse. Blessing as a reminder he isn’t dreaming. A curse for who’s presence they announce. They stop not too far away. He knows exactly where you are even if he can’t bear to lift his head.

“You summoned me, my queen?” Ever eloquently you speak but there’s a rasp to your voice he’s not heard before. It peaks enough of his interest to try and get a better look and blinking an eye open is enough to reveal the bruised marks around your neck. It’d been weeks since your altercation and you bore no marks of that. Whoever dared lay a hand on you, Maeve must want to deal with. He expected some kind of doting from the queen but found none.

“You have served me well, my little pet. For many years I have kept you at my side. My most loyal of servants.” Maeve rises and slowly crosses the difference. She steps around Fenrys as if he’s no more than an inconvenient obstacle. “You’ve protected them for many years but finally you’ve given in. Know that it is your sacrifice that keeps them alive. For now. You’ve earned my mercy.” Maeve dances a sharp nail under your chin and lifts your head. She tuts at the marred skin as you bite back the discomfort when she lets her fingers glide against the tender bruises.

“My allegiance has never wavered. I thank you for your benevolence.” Such carefully chosen words. When she retreats her touch you bow your head like some loyal subject. Maeve circles you but you keep your eyes front, not daring to turn and face her out of habit.

“Your allegiance comes with a reward no less. After all these decades you’ve deserved as much.” She stops behind you and you fear the repercussions for a brief second. You see the broken and bloodied fae at the footsteps of that dais. He’s staring right at you. You cannot look away from him. At least he’s alive. At least he has allies that can help him. At least he can stay with Aelin. He might not know your involvement in all of this and he might never know, but that is your punishment for all those years you turned a blind eye to them, to him. You don’t deserve forgiveness for your actions nor do you want it. You just hope it was worth it, will be worth it. It’s then you feel something cold slip around your neck and dangle against your chest. A pendant on a chain. Your blood freezes in your veins. You freeze.

The pendant, the chain, you can still see the remnants of dried blood staining it. Murder enters your heart and it shatters. You want to scream and shout and cry but you don’t. You school your features blank and manage to hold yourself together as you hold the pendant. Maeve circles back around, back up the stairs and leisurely sits on her throne. She grasps the armrests lightly.

“Let this be the price of your broken silence.” She promised you. She promised they’d be safe. You’d given it all. All those decades you’ve suffered through and she destroyed all you cared about. You played a dangerous game and you lost. You truly lost. You’d saved the victims of your actions but condemned the ones who lived thanks to your silence. Maeve takes great joy in watching you struggle to hold yourself together.

“You have no idea how much this gift means to me, my most gracious queen.” Fenrys doesn’t know if it’s your injured throat or those cracks he’s noticing once more. He almost feels sorry for you, for whatever is causing this and for what Maeve clearly holds over you. You were all too selective in your words and he has not the strength to figure it out, dancing along the line of consciousness but he makes a mental note of it anyway should his mind think it important enough to pick apart.

“Take him out of my sight and clean up his mess. I want him back in shape by next morrow.” You miss a beat but with one last bow you are at Fenrys’ side. He tries to lift himself but is unable to despite his first instinct to refuse your help and protest. At least he can take some modicum of satisfaction in the knowledge he will bleed all over your pristine attire. With difficulty you support him and drag him out of the throne room. It seems that the moment those doors close behind each step is more difficult than the last. He notes that you’re not even entirely sure where you’re going, not aware of your surroundings and when he looks at your face Fenrys sees something he has never seen before; silent tears streaming down your cheeks. You can’t seem to stop them. You make no sound but still you cry. Those are the tears of someone who has only been able to express those feelings in complete solitude. Despite his feelings and opinions towards you, he finds it within himself holding some kind of remorse, of pity.

You take him to an unfamiliar room. You don’t speak a single word. Neither does he. You follow orders; get some rags, clean his skin and take care of the injuries he sustained to speed up the healing process. Your touch is deliberate and practiced. You have the supplies at the ready. You’re no healer, he’s fairly certain an it’s then he notes the faint smell from you matching that of one of the ointments you set aside. The more you care for him, the further within your shell you retreat, as if you’re not but an animated body but your mind and soul have left. The way you move, like this is regular routine, it makes him wonder if this is habit. It must be. You’ve done this perhaps a thousand times before but likely never for another… Perhaps you have faced your own suffering at Maeve’s hand. Your loyalty was never to Maeve. It was to whomever that pendant belonged to- the sacrifice you had made and for what? Why now? Fenrys has many questions he cannot answer.

“What did you do?” Fenrys croaks when you tie the last bandage and collect the mess to be disposed of. You freeze in your movement. You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t look at him at all. You are just curled within yourself; your shoulders slumped, and limbs heavy, your brow furrowed and still the occasional tear rolls down your cheek.

“Why do you care?” You shoot back out of instinct. Your defences still sharp. If anything you remind Fenrys of an injured animal, lashing out at any who dare come to close. It seems you remember you’re the one that brought him into your lair.

“I don’t but I’d rather like to know if I’ll be cleaning up your mess next time.” You know what he insinuates. He’s gathered you’ve fallen out of favour with Maeve and she has been known to get rid of those no longer of use to her in a manifold of creative ways. It’s a shame you still hold some value to her and she won’t let you go until she’s absolutely sure you have nothing left to offer her. She knows that even still, you haven’t shared all you had to share. You’ve kept the most important information to yourself for a reason and right now your heart is filled with enough hatred and recklessness to play the long game no matter the costs. Not like you have anything left to lose.

“I sacrificed what leverage I had to spare others from bloodshed, to buy them more time.” You speak solemnly. The first words you’d said since all but dragging him out of the throne room. You truly are in pain. Though besides your bruises you seem fine and some bruising has never bothered you much before as far as Fenrys knows, the pain you feel is the world-shattering kind and he’s noted the blood on that pendant isn’t his. The way you hold onto it, it’s important to you. Out of all the jewels you adorn it is the most precious. He begins to piece it together. Those golden bracelets are chains in their own way.

“Clearly that did fuck all.” Fenrys appears to have found his attitude again. You’re just too exhausted to face off with him. You can’t. You’re done. You’ve lost it all and for what? It was a failure in the end. You want this pain to stop, this carnage from tearing you apart from the inside but here he is claws and all tearing into you. As he deserves for all the pain you’ve caused him.

“She would have made you kill each other. She would have made the others watch before disposing of the disobedient ones.” He understands well enough the implications of your words. His blood might as well have frozen in his veins.

“And you can’t even speak our names- their names. Why? Why risk it all for the people you’ve been looking down upon ever since you’ve met them? Why give up your precious little life to save us? Should we forever be in your debt?” Once more his anger is directed towards you. It felt so good in the past. He simply feels horrible about it now, especially when he sees you clutch that pendant so tightly he thinks you might crush the metal with your bare hands.

“Because you don’t deserve to be a casualty to my silence.”

“We have all been casualties of your silence! What’s changed, sunshine? You grew a conscious? Get lost. You wouldn’t know right from wrong if it stared you right in the face.” He expected you to lash out against him, to seek out the confrontation but with each word he speaks you just look smaller and smaller. There’s no satisfaction. There’s no pleasure in tearing into you. Fenrys once thought that seeing you show remorse, any kind of guilt and recompense for your actions, or lack thereof would make him feel justified, make him feel validated, make him feel good. It didn’t. He just feels horrible. He feels his blood truly grow colder than the depths of winter and so his features blank. No more is there the fury. There’s only a chill silence and lack of any sensation. It’s terrifying. He catches a glimpse of himself in your mirror and sees a reflection eerily similar to the expression he’s seen you wear more often than not. Just the absence of emotion, of the attachment to this world.

“You’re right. Fenrys. You’re right and I’m sorry.” Once upon a time he would have cheered and laughed at you admitting your wrongs, your defeat. He doesn’t feel anything now. You’re just some broken bird that can no longer sing those lovely songs. You’re just as broken as he is.

#fenrys x reader #throne of glass fenrys #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass fanfiction #tog x reader #kingdom of ash

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shivunin · 7 months

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Two of Hearts

I meant to post this with the full piece by @ndostairlyrium but sadly I didn't finish it in time to post them together--regardless, here it is now! (the larger version is here. Cannot recommend commissioning her enough; she is a delight of a human being!)

(Fenris/Maria Hawke | 1,541 Words | CW: alcohol)

“Belt off, Hawke,” Varric said the moment she and Fenris stepped into the dwarf’s room in the Hanged Man. “Cloak, too.”

Hawke paused mid-step, one foot through the door and the other on the threshold. Fenris caught himself just before he would have run into her.

“Andraste’s eyebrows, Varric—if you wanted me naked, you ought to’ve asked years ago. I’m afraid my heart belongs to another now,” she sighed. “What a terrible shame for you.”

The room was better-lit than the larger dining room downstairs. It was often so on the nights they came for cards, as if Varric was trying to beat back the Kirkwall night outside. The firelight caught in the curls of Hawke’s hair, left loose today for they’d hardly left her manor before they’d come here. When she tilted her head, Fenris saw the faint curl of a dimple in her cheek. Trying not to smile and failing; a night with Hawke when she was feeling capricious could be dangerous, but he could not find it in himself to feel concerned. He knew very well what had put her in such a good mood, after all.

“Yeah, yeah,” Varric rolled his eyes. “Off, Hawke. If you want to sneak in that extra deck of yours, it’ll have to be some other night.”

“I am outraged,” Hawke said, unclasping her cloak and tossing it in the general direction of a cabinet. It slid to the ground with a soft thud. “Outraged, I say!”

“Oh, stow it,” Isabela said. She sat at the end of the table nearest Varric, her face dissatisfied. “He already took both of my boots, if you can imagine. If I’ve got to suffer, then so do you, Hawke. This floor is like ice.”

“There’s a carpet, Bela,” Varric said, shuffling his own deck. “Boots, too, Hawke.”

“And?” Isabela shot back. “The least you could do is lend a pair of socks.”

Hawke’s belt and boots were set aside, too, and she flounced to the table with visible indignation. Fenris, still standing in the doorway, watched her until she sat, shaking his head slightly. Hawke looked back at him and held out a hand.

Dangerous. Fenris lifted a brow at her and crossed the room, setting the bottle of wine they’d taken from her cellar on the table. His fingers brushed against her outstretched palm while he climbed over the bench. In turn, she touched the small of his back lightly before turning to the cluster of glasses in the center of the table.

“Added more rules, have we?” she asked, sliding one glass to Fenris and taking another for herself. He lifted the corkscrew from the table and passed it to her in turn.

“Just enforcing the usual ones,” Varric tilted the cards up until they shuffled downward again, then cut the deck. He waved half of it at Isabela and Hawke in turn. “I saw the two of you last time. If you can’t play nice, maybe someone has to make you.”

Hawke gasped, still busily twisting the corkscrew. Fenris steadied the other end of the bottle.

“Cheating at Wicked Grace is the point of playing Wicked Grace, as you well know,” she said, and the cork popped loose. “I cannot believe you are interfering with a time-honored tradition when you never even returned my second deck—”

“The one you intended to cheat with,” Varric said, tapping the cards back together again with a snap.

“—oh, allegedly—I never did any such thing—”

“Can’t we just start playing?” Aveline asked from the other end of the table, looking between Hawke and Varric. Hawke poured Fenris’s glass of wine first, then her own.

“—and why don’t Aveline and Fenris and Sebastian have to give up their belts or turn out their pockets, hm?” Hawke went on, glancing between the three of them. Aveline sighed heavily and took a long draught from her goblet.

“Aveline never wins,” Varric told her. “If she’s cheating, she needs the practice.”

“I’ve no need to cheat,” Sebastian added calmly, accepting his cards when Varric slid them to him. “I can win well enough without it.”

Fenris snorted and took his own cards. Under the table, Hawke looped her stockinged ankle around his.

“Why would I cheat?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around the stem of his glass. “Watching you try is more entertaining.”

“I am positively surrounded by spoilsports,” Hawke announced with an air of great tragedy. She accepted her own pile of cards with a sigh. “Where’s Merrill tonight?”

“Some holiday in the alienage,” Isabela said, shifting until her legs were crossed before her. “I told her I’d bring her regrets, but she said she’d be along eventually.”

While Isabela spoke, Hawke shifted on the bench beside Fenris, sitting back and bouncing her leg, then leaning forward again. He took a careful sip of his wine and glanced sidelong at her. Hawke ignored him and drank deeply from her own cup.

“Well, go on, then,” she told Varric. “If we’re to be proper about this.”

“One silver,” he replied, tossing a coin onto the table. “Hawke?”

She set a coin of her own on the table (nobody seemed inclined to ask where she might have produced this from; Fenris, who’d felt the tug on his own belt pouch, said nothing).

The round progressed. To the outside observer, Hawke might have seemed entirely engrossed in the round. Fenris knew better—but then, he could feel how close she sat on the bench, could feel the occasional brush of her fingers against his back or arm. She never demanded any show of affection from him before the others, for which he was grateful. What they had was for them, not for everybody else’s entertainment or speculation.

Even so, she was still herself; he did not begrudge the small gestures she offered instead. She held his hand beneath the table sometimes, or sat so close to him that their legs pressed together. And sometimes, like tonight—

Fenris straightened and turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes. Hawke smiled winningly and rested her stack of cards face-down on the table—a stack of cards slightly thicker than it ought to have been. He reached for his glass of wine, shaking his head at her, and the dimple at her cheek deepened.

“Whatever are you looking at me like that for, messere?” she asked in an undertone.

“You know quite well.”

“Truly, I’ve no idea.”

This time, he felt it when she tucked the card into his belt. Hawke tilted her head and rested her hand on his back for a moment.

Ridiculous. Of late, he spent more than half his nights in her company and yet something in his chest still caught when she looked at him like that.

“Hmm,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything to say except her name. Hawke leaned closer and turned her face away from the others.

“You did promise,” she whispered, “but if you’re having second thoughts…”

“No,” he said, because he had promised, “go on.”

“Thank you, dearest,” she said, and leaned away again.

“Now, what are the two of you whispering about?” Isabela asked, peering at them over the lantern that rested between them on the table. Fenris lifted his wineglass and took a long drink, studying his cards.

This was…most of a winning hand. He was certain he hadn’t been holding these cards before. He’d intended to fold when the round returned to him, in fact.

“Something terribly boring,” Hawke told Isabela, still smiling. “You couldn’t possibly be interested.”

“Try me,” Isabela said.

“Hawke?” Varric asked.

Hawke lay her cards on the table face-up, not bothering to glance at them again. Fenris studied them briefly, though he’d already known what he would see. They were his cards, with an extra tucked beneath. She had traded her hand for his

“If you must know,” Hawke began, lifting her glass and gesturing broadly with it. It was fortunate that she’d drunk most of it or the two of them would certainly have been doused. “I was reminding him that we need to stop by the market tomorrow. I have been wanting to buy a new pair of boots, you see; the ones I have now pinch awfully and it is rather pleasant to be playing without them on. It is so hard to find a good pair of shoes these days, don’t you think? What I wouldn’t give for one of those fine sets from Antiva with all of the tooled leather and that embroidery that looks—”

“Alright, alright,” Isabela said, taking a bun from the table and rolling her eyes. “Go on then, Fenris.”

“Raise,” he said, and set two coins on the table.

Aveline groaned.

Beside him, Hawke set her glass down. She’d finished the last sip of it and she was smiling to herself, gathering her cards into a neat stack.

When Fenris rested his hand on the table again, his elbow nudged hers as if by accident. Beneath the table, she pressed her knee against his thigh. A thanks, offered and accepted.

After the round ended (Fenris’s belt somewhat heavier for it), he did not turn again when he felt her hand at his back. He knew very well what she was doing—and he had promised, after all.

#fenhawke #fenris #fenris dragon age #maria hawke #femhawke #da2 #dragon age fic #shoutout to one of my favorite pieces of dragon age art ever though i am admittedly biased (thanks again ali! <3)#and a shoutout to my husband who has tolerated me loudly saying 'they're in love!' and pointing at this painting #every time he walks into the room

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leiawritesstories · 8 months

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It Happened Off-Camera

Rowaelin Month 2023, day 10: Guest Stars with Chemistry

a continuation of the dating show au prompt i wrote a while ago ;)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: language, innuendo, flirty Fenrys, naughty jokes, and i have no idea how a reality show works so i just made up stuff about that lol

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Views spiked almost 200% after last week, Aelin! The producer's comment echoed in Aelin's mind. We can't wait to see what the numbers look like when this week's episode airs.

She grimaced and turned away from her bathroom mirror. Although her villa was a camera-free zone, she wouldn't put it past the production team to find some loophole in that rule and sneak footage of her alone in her private space. Last week's episode had been an incredible success, though, what with her stupidly romantic date with Fenrys and the satisfaction of watching sniveling little Sam get booted from the suitor list.

Speaking of Fenrys...he was the first man she'd put down on the second-date list. He was just as charming and suave as the rest of the men on the show, but his infectious laugh and penchant for cracking inappropriate jokes at highly inappropriate times were right up Aelin's alley, so to speak. But she was famously close-lipped about her suitor list, both for her own sanity and for the drama.

So it was no surprise when the entire production crew gasped collectively when she and Fenrys went on a second date.

He rented a little rowboat and took her out onto the property's gorgeous lake, bringing her to the opposite shore, where he'd set up a picnic, complete with blankets, charcuterie, and wine. The camera crew followed them at a discreet enough distance, allowing Fen to lean over and whisper into her ear as he helped her out of the boat.

"Let's hope the subtitles don't pick this conversation up," he murmured, "because I don't need thousands of people hearing me tell The Bachelorette that I'm fighting a boner."

She snorted and playfully smacked his shoulder. "I wouldn't be worried about that if I were you, Fen. It's not like it's visible or anything."

He gasped in theatrical shock. "Aelin!"

"Fenrys," she cooed, the portrait of innocence. "You promised me food?" She raised her voice to camera-ready levels.

"Indeed I did." He gestured broadly to the picnic. "And even dessert, if you play your cards right." He wiggled his perfectly groomed eyebrows, playing it up for the cameras.

She laughed. "Slow down, Moonbeam. I'm one of those three-dates-before-going-home girls, you know."

"I was so hopeful!" He faked a dramatic groan. "Does this mean you'll grant me a third date, milady?"

"Maybe." She sipped at her wine, unaffected by the way he laid his head in her lap and stared imploringly up at her. "You're cute, Fen, but puppy eyes don't work on me." She leant down and whispered her next words too softly for the crew to hear. "Only bedroom eyes do."

Faster than she expected him to react, he raised his body and propped his arms on either side of her, pressing himself almost indecently close. "Thought you wanted three dates before that, Ae," he purred, playfulness and lust mingled in his dark eyes.

"Indeed," she murmured. And she pushed him gently back to his place. "No need to rush yourself, Moon Moon."

After the picnic, Fenrys rowed them back across the lake, stopping in the middle so she could gaze up at the blanket of starry darkness that laid across the property where filming took place. "Up there," he whispered, loud enough to be heard. "You can hardly see any constellations in the city, but they're so gorgeous out here."

"I was half expecting you to drop the not as gorgeous as me line," Aelin teased.

He snickered. "I can call myself gorgeous if you want, but I'd rather hear it from you." He paused, a roguish grin curling across his lips. "Moaned, ideally."

She coughed out a laugh and doubled over, almost toppling out of the boat. Swiftly, he lunged to catch her, righting both her and the boat. He cracked a quiet joke about not rocking the boat just yet and rowed them back to the shore, back towards the house where the rest of the candidates were waiting.

At least one of them was probably stewing at the fact that Fenrys had pulled a second date.

Just before they reached the pier, the boat bumped against something below the water's surface and rocked sharply.

"Shit!" Fenrys yelped, digging the oars into the water to counterbalance the sudden tilt, his muscles straining as the boat jostled and rocked again. "Hold on, Ae, I--fuck!" He spoke too late.

With a splash and a high-pitched "Shit!," Aelin went flying over the side of the boat, drawing in a sharp breath just before she plunged fully into the icy lake water. It might have been early summer, but the lake was far from pleasantly warm. She held her breath and extended her arms and legs, pushing at the water as she tried to work back to the surface.

But the godsdamned ridiculous, overly formal dress she'd been put in clung to her in all the wrong ways, constricting her range of motion, and those stupid heels were caught in what felt like a tangle of roots and wouldn't budge. Hell.

Aelin tried to keep her pounding heart under control as she bent back downwards and reached for her shoes, fumbling with the stupidly fucking tiny straps and buckles until she'd managed to free her feet from the damn things. Her lungs ached and burned with the effort of keeping her breath held. Push, Galathynius!

Partially freed, she pushed towards the surface, swearing violently to herself as she struggled against the godsdamned dress. Air rushed from her lips in a stream of silvery bubbles, and she clamped her lips back together, willing herself not to let go of any more precious breath even as she struggled to float.

Then a pair of strong, muscled arms wrapped around her waist, and she was pulled to the surface in a stroke of powerful, purely masculine strength.

She gasped and spluttered, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her hair was plastered all over her face and her makeup ran in smeared trails, destroyed by the icy lake. Teeth chattering, she noticed the cameras zooming in on her waterlogged form and rapidly crossed her arms over her chest.

Her lack of a bra meant her nipples were rigid behind the dress, and the assholes editing the footage would never let that go unnoticed.

"Are you alright?" The man who still had his arms around her deposited her on the pier and grabbed the floating dock for stability, peering anxiously into her face. It wasn't Fenrys, as she'd thought.

It was Rowan Whitethorn.

And now her heart was pounding for multiple reasons.

"I-I'm f-f-fine," she managed to get out through chattering teeth and shivers.

"Hey!" Rowan hoisted himself out of the lake in a smooth, sleek lift that made Aelin immediately think of Anthony Bridgerton, and directed his next yell at the handful of men and crew members standing around watching Aelin shiver. "Get Miss Galathynius some damn towels! Have you never seen someone almost drown before?"

She smiled to herself. Maybe the man was more of a gentleman than she'd given him credit for initially. "I'm f-fine," she repeated, but the tremors shaking her body belied her words.

He crouched back down next to her, grumbled something about useless idiots, and laid two fingers against her pulse. "We need to get you inside," he murmured. "Can I pick you up?"

"Yes." Normally, she would refuse, but this wasn't normal.

Rowan scooped her into his arms, letting her nestle against his warm, if wet, chest, and strode towards her villa, leaving a trail of slack-jawed suitors, eager camera crew, and one flabbergasted Fenrys in his wake. "I wish they'd all fuck off," he mumbled into her sodden hair. "Yeah, yeah, it's a drama, but really?"

"Can't let the knight in sopping armor go unnoticed," Aelin quipped, her humor unharmed.

He chuckled. The deep rasp of it went right between her thighs. "If I wasn't on the damn show myself, I'd be the person punching the cameraman right about now."

"No need for that," she returned. "Just...just get me home." Exhaustion had overtaken her more than anything else.

"I will." She clung to the solid surety of those words and closed her eyes for the rest of the short walk to her villa. When he reached the steps, Rowan paused, suddenly unsure how to proceed. "Uh..."

"I don't think I can walk," Aelin admitted. "So, if you'll bring me inside, that would be lovely." She met his concerned pine gaze. "It's okay, Rowan. Plus, my villa is strictly no-cameras."

"Okay." So he walked up the stairs, pushed open her front door, brought her inside, and nudged the door closed behind them. Holding her stable with one arm, he locked the front door and then carried her into the kitchen. Gingerly, he set her down, but kept one arm around her waist for stability. "Where do you need to go?"

"Bathroom." She found her balance, wobbling only a bit, and led him down the hall to the master bedroom and its attached bathroom. She made it all the way into the modern, marble-and-glass space before her stomach roiled and she lurched away from him. "Gods," she groaned as she bent over the toilet. "Why now? Why tonight?"

Unexpectedly gentle, Rowan's hands swept her wet hair away from her face and rubbed her back in soothing strokes. "It's alright, Aelin. Just let it all out."

She retched a couple more times before her stomach settled down and her body started insisting that she get out of her uncomfortably wet clothes and into a nice warm bath. "Rowan?"

"Yeah?"

"I...I need a bath."

His tan cheeks flushed an adorable shade of bright red. "Do you need me to leave?"

She blew out a sigh. "I'd say yes, but--oh hell," she cursed as her legs gave out beneath her. "Well, it seems I'm still unstable."

"Okay." He glanced around the bathroom for a minute, unsure, and then went and turned on the bathwater, filling up the sunken marble tub with steaming heat.

"Unzip me, please," she requested, feeling her face burn crimson with the awkwardness of the request. To her relief, he didn't comment, just fumbled with the wet satin before finding the tiny zipper and carefully pulling it down the length of her back. She peeled the sodden material off her body and dropped it on the floor, not caring that she wasn't wearing any underwear, and walked down the steps into the deliciously hot bath.

Behind her, Rowan drew in a sharp breath. "Aelin." If she was in any other reality, she'd swear that there was predatory violence underlying his tone.

"What?" Safely submerged in the water up to her shoulders, she turned to look at him.

Poorly-concealed wrath tightened his handsome face. "Who did that to you?"

So he'd seen the scars slashing across her back. "Car accident. Happened when I was a child," she said, simply, boiling the truth down to its most sanitized version. And because he still looked like murder, she added, "The drunk driver who hit the car I was in died on impact."

He relaxed. A smidge. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." She leaned back into the bath, a small, soft moan escaping her as the hot water eased the tension in her muscles and warmed her chilled body back up. A thought dropped into her mind, and she cracked her eyes open. "You can use the shower if you need, Rowan."

He was still fixed where he stood, and she could have sworn that she saw dark desire flicker in those forest-colored eyes of his. "What if I want a bath?" he asked, and fire licked down her spine at the sound of his voice, low and rough and thrumming with leashed need.

And with that question, Aelin got the unmistakable sense that she'd found her bachelor.

"Then the steps are right there," she breathed, holding his intense gaze, feeling her body electrify the longer he stared at her. The longer he dragged out the charged silence, though, the more she began to question. "Unless I've read the room wrong, in which case I'm an idiot, and--oh gods, I fucked up, and--"

"Aelin." Clothes hit the marble floor with a wet thud and Rowan's chiseled body cut through the steaming water until he stood right in front of her, reached out, and caught her chin with his fingertips, tipping her head up to his. "You didn't read anything wrong."

Her breath hitched at his closeness, at the heat between them that had nothing to do with the bath. "Rowan," she whispered, hardly daring to believe the scene was real, "kiss me."

"What about the three date rule?" Gods burn her, he had a sense of humor, too?

"You found the loophole," she grinned. "Rescue the damsel in distress, and that counts as three dates."

"Lucky me." And Rowan kissed her.

Aelin blinked awake to bright sunlight, rumpled sheets, and Rowan Whitethorn snoring behind her.

She couldn't control the grin that blossomed across her face as she laid there, snug and warm in the cocoon of his arms, and listened to the adorable, snuffling snore emanating from the most controlled man on the show. Unable to help it, she rolled over and looked into his slumbering face, reaching out to trail her fingertips lightly over the tattoo that spiraled down his arm.

"I can feel you staring," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Can you blame me?" She dipped her head, brushed a featherlight kiss over his lips. "You're adorable when you snore."

He grumbled something incoherent. "I don't control that."

"And it ruffles your feathers, I know," she teased. "I think it's--oh!" Her teasing was cut off with another kiss.

After they separated, breaths ragged, Rowan twined a lock of her hair around his fingers, uncertainty flashing across his face. "Ae?"

"Hmm?" She held his gaze. "You can talk to me, Ro," she murmured, reassuring him the same way he'd comforted her last night.

He exhaled heavily. "Last night...it...what's going to happen?"

"Well, I'm going to start dating you," she replied. "I'll probably keep one or two other guys around because the contract says I have to, but as of now, you are the only man in my life." She traced the angle of his cheekbones. "Why?"

"Because--" The normally unflappable, granite-faced businessman fumbled for words. "Will you promise to keep a secret, Ae?"

"Of course." She laced her free hand into his and squeezed. "I promise."

He worried his lower lip, took a steadying breath, and dropped the biggest bombshell of the whole show on her.

"I have a daughter."

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added or removed or if there's any problems :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

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@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #dating show au #bachelorette au #dating show fic #featuring fenrys and his flirting ofc #the bachelorette but rowaelin so it's better hehe #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic

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