rowanwhitethornisbae - Tumblr blog

rowanwhitethornisbae · 3 years

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loved this!! can’t wait for a part two?

I got a prompt for you ^^ if you ever wanna get into it

Person A is athlete at a press conference and Person A makes comment to his buddy about Person B and Person A forgot his mic was on

For Feysand/Rowaelin~

Love your writing 💕

I loved writing this! Thanks so much for sending it in and for reading!

Has potential for more parts. Feel free to send me prompts if you wanna or if you’d just like to see more of this, let me know.

And I know more about basketball than any other sport, so for the sake of reality/my sanity basketball is the sport of choice here.

Warnings: none

For the Love of the Game

And the final game of the regular season comes to a close! In a clutch shot Rowan Whitethorn hit that three-pointer and brought the score 109-107. No overtime for the Wendlyn Wyverns. Whitethorn has been having a hell of a season--surprising since the slump he was in last year. But he actually managed to be listed as MVP and leading in most assists for the regular season.

Aelin listened to the announcer, Duke Perrington, as he gave the wrap up of the game. Duke was a sleaze as his name could only attest to. And he would be leading the press-conference tonight after the post-game wrap ups. Hell. She didn’t want to deal with him.

She straightened her skirt and checked, again, that there were no runs in her pantyhose. Dorian Havilliard Sr. had made certain she knew what the dress code was. Pants were out of the question (she was a woman after all). Shoes with a heel less than two inches were laughable. And she always, always, had to have her make-up done.

Aelin had no problem with dressing up. None at all. The more glitz and glam the better. But doing it for Havilliard? The man, who owned the sports magazine she wrote for, hardly appreciated her.

She muttered a string of oaths under her breath.

After the slow start of the first quarter, it was good to see the usual energy of the Wyverns come out. And of course, getting to see Lorcan Salvaterre fouling out of the game made everyone’s night. Who won the pool this time?

As Aelin slipped from the bathroom, she made sure her reporter’s badge was unobscured. She couldn’t count the times security had tried to escort her away from press conferences just because they couldn't be bothered to look for it. Maybe if she clipped it right over her breasts.

She was usually the only female reporter in the conferences. Mostly because Cairn Valg, owner of the Wendlyn Wyverns was a misogynistic pig-headed man. And then Havilliard never bothered to listen to Aelin when she asked that he put her name on the list of reporters.

“Aelin,” Nox Banner, one of her fellow reporters and a good friend, walked beside her down the hall of the stadium towards the conference rooms. “Havilliard actually let you cover tonight’s game?”

She punched his shoulder when he howled with laughter. “Screw you.”

“I’m just saying,” Nox said, grinning madly, but Aelin cut him off with another punch.

“I am just as qualified as you to be there,” she said.

Nox threw his hands up in defense. “I know. You’ll cover the game better than any of us too.”

“Damn straight,” Aelin agreed. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Dorian helped me get on the list.”

“Of course he did,” Nox said, making sure to waggle his brows.

“He’s a friend,” Aelin said. Nox managed to dodge the next punch.

Nox cackled in laughter as they were led into the conference room. Aelin rolled her eyes, grateful to have at least one person on her side. Being a female reporter in a male dominated environment had always been hard. But she’d grown up with the sport. It had been her life in the foster system, through college. Almost to the WNBA.

The conference room was packed with reporters, cameras, and a line of the players up on an elevated stage. Just as she always felt with conferences and interviews, Aelin felt a rush of adrenaline. It wasn’t as intense as when she would be on the court playing--but close enough. The closest she ever got nowadays.

Ignoring the glances from her male counterparts, Aelin pushed her way through the reporters, Nox at her side. She wasn’t quite at the front of the crowd as she would like to be, but close enough.

Aelin watched as two delegates from each team--the Wyverns and the Sea Dragons--came onto the stage. Rowan Whitethorn and Lorcan Salvaterre for the former and Sartaq Khagan and Sam Cortland for the latter. Aelin never understood how such attractive people could get drafted for both teams.

Rowan Whitethorn in particular had always caught Aelin’s attention. He’d been signed from the European league after dominating some private university division. The Wyverns laid their claim on him five years ago and it seemed he’d found his home in Wendlyn. It was his story, his history as a player that had always intrigued Aelin.

His striking silver-blonde hair and piercing green eyes also helped.

“Live in five...four...three…” a technician counted down giving a signal to Duke Perrington who stood in front of the main camera.

“Here we are at the post-game break down,” Perrington said, his slicked back and signature smirk of a smile ready for viewers. “Wendlyn barely cinched this win, as has been the norm for them through the entire regular season making everyone question, how are they going to do in the finals?”

Aelin wanted to roll her eyes. Perrington had washed out as an athlete in college and barely had the credentials to be a lead reporter for a major sports station. He only had an in with Havilliard because the two could be sleazes together. And money. And they had similar values. Demoralizing and inhuman ones, but similar nonetheless.

As the questions began for each team, Aelin got more and more frustrated that she’d never been able to pose a question. Every time she’d raised her hand to ask a question, she’d been ignored. Every time she tried to push her way through to that front of the line of reporters someone would nudge her back. Even with Nox at her side, Aelin was at every disadvantage.

“I think,” Rowan Whitethorn said, his accent rolling off his tongue, “it took far more teamwork than anyone really notices to get us here.”

Teamwork. The five best players for Wendlyn hated each other. Rowan, Lorcan, Connal, Fenrys, and Vaughan. Gavriel had finished out his last season five years ago and was now working as assistant coach but she was sure he hated the others as much as they hated him.

It was a nice sentiment really. And even though Whitethorn was leading in assists, it was clear there was a rift in the team. As was made evident by the Wyverns barely scraping their way into the finals.

Perrington made the mistake of pausing too long and Aelin sent a well-aimed kick at the instep of the man in front of her. She had seconds to push her question. It led to a larger theme that she was interested in as a sports writer, but one no one--no man-- took seriously.

“And what would you define teamwork as, Mr. Whitethorn,” she asked loud enough that any microphone would be able to pick up. Aelin felt eyes and cameras turn to her, giving her a thrill of excitement. Almost as good as being out on the court. “It’s become fairly evident that there is a divide among the Wyverns and how you all play together. It would seem that teamwork only exists on the court, not off it.”

Silence.

It seemed that everyone had forgotten a woman could be a reporter, let alone exist in general.

Rowan Whitethorn’s pine green eyes bore into her. Even at a distance, Aelin could feel the intensity of his gaze, the scrutiny he was putting her through. And she loved it. Far too often men, and women, dismissed her as nothing more than a blonde bimbo. Even though she’d risen high and mighty among the ranks in her college classes. She’d become valedictorian even while playing basketball herself. She’d been one of the best on and off the court.

Until Arobyn Hammel.

Now all she was known for was that she made good coffee runs in the office.

“Teamwork is trust.” Whitethorn didn’t have an opportunity to say anything else before Perrington swung the attention back around to how both teams would approach the finals and having to play each other again.

Whitethorn’s gaze continued to flick back to Aelin through the final questions. Aelin alternated between glaring at him and Perrington.

Perhaps her question wasn’t the most interesting to them. It was a bit more of a touchy feely sort and less about statistics and the male-esque propriety of victory. But it was something worth considering. Especially when the Wyverns hadn’t been playing their best in years. Despite their successes, they were still being held back.

And Aelin wanted to know why.

She wasn’t able to sink her nails into the questions however. Perrington called a final question and cameras flashed as the conference wound down.

Aelin seethed to herself as she faded back into nothing. No one, not even Nox tried to say anything to her. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She shouldn’t even be as disappointed as she was. This was everything she should have been expecting.

“Who let the skirt in?” Salvaterre muttered to Whitethorn as soon as someone called a loud “clear!” to indicate the conference was over.

Aelin was more than ready to let it go. The microphone was muffled as the giant of a man moved, the fabric of his sweatsuit rubbing against the sensitive item. She knew she should just forget the comment and get on with the article. She had enough information to get something down. Even if she did utterly fail at getting treated like a real reporter. Again.

Until Whitethorn opened his mouth.

“At least it gave us something to look at.”

The prick hadn’t turned off his microphone, hadn’t put a hand over it, hadn’t even bothered to check if it was still on. His words echoed over the din of voices.

Aelin didn’t think as she spun on her heel, head cocked to one side. She could hear Nox cure under his breath as she stepped up to the stage where the players were still standing.

I was gratifying to see Cortland and Kahgan shuffle off to one side, expertly avoiding her.

“So I was right, was I?” Aelin asked before she could stop herself. “You are as big an ass off the court as on. Is it alright if I quote you on that?”

“Aelin,” Nox hissed behind her. Ah, so now he wanted to talk to her. She ignored him.

Whitethorn stared down at Aelin, his ridiculously handsome face passive and unreadable. If not for those green eyes that pinned her where she stood.

“As long as you call it a great ass, fireheart,” he said, his accent growing thick as he leaned over the press table to grin at her. “I don’t find I care.”

Aelin wondered if she would get fired for slapping a multi-million basketball player in the face. No. Punching. Punching would be far more satisfactory.

“Buzzard,” she hissed, instead.

“Princess,” he replied, that insufferably sexy smile never leaving his face.

A hand grabbed Aelin’s arm and she had to stop herself from swinging a right hook at Nox.

“Havilliard is gonna kill you,” Nox said, he gestured around them and Aelin realized the scene she was making.

The cameramen had their cameras not quite in a position to start recording, but it was pretty damn close. All the other reporters had their own recording devices not so secretly hidden in the flaps of their suit jackets or just out right ready to catch anything that might happen.

Aelin took a breath and shook Nox off. She then put on her most charming smile--the one that had gotten Archer Flynn to give up VIP season passes to the Lakers last year. And again this year. The poor beautiful fool.

“Mr. Whitethorn, Mr. Salvaterre,” she purred, looking at each man in turn before leaving the conference hall with the loud, efficient snap of her heels echoing behind her.

thanks for reading guys!

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let me know if you’d like to be added or removed, these are for TOG fics:

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rowanwhitethornisbae · 3 years

Text

Faking It Chapter 6

Hey! I know its been a while so click on the master list if you want to catch up or even start. Im going to try to start updating more frequently in the next few months. Thanks to everyone for reading!!

TW: Language, drinking, sexual references, blood

Faking It Masterlist

Aelin woke with a start to the sound of her phone ringing.

"Shit." She swore, quickly realizing she must've fallen asleep after her conversation with Fenrys. She hung up on the call, silencing that obnoxious ringing as she sat up in bed. Aelin hadn’t bothered to check who it was, but she knew she'd figure it out if she went back downstairs.

It was probably Lysandra, calling to make sure Aelin wasnt already passed out drunk somewhere. It wouldn't be the first time. Groaning internally, she picked herself up off the bed. Despite her falling asleep, the duvet covers looked unruffled. Still, she fluffed the pillow briefly in an attempt to ease her own discomfort at sleeping in Dorian's room.

With one last look to confirm that the room appeared undisturbed, Aelin closed the door shut behind her. She made it halfway down the staircase when the exhaustion hit her. It was a familiar feeling, like when you were abruptly waken from sleep to attend a six am practice at school. Still, she clung extra hard onto the railing for a moment in order to gain her bearings once again.

As her eyes finally focused, she could make out the throng of high schoolers in the living room below her. Her eyes adjusted to the colourful lights as she scanned the area for a familiar face. She saw Lorcan first, and then Rowan beside him, the latter scowling. At first it didn't seem odd, Rowan was always scowling at something. She took another few steps down the stairs, and with closer examination, realized something was wrong.

She tracked Rowan’s glare across the room, landing on her ex-boyfriend and the guy who’s bed she’d just fallen asleep in. “Shit shit shit!” Aelin said to no one in particular as she hurried down the stairs. She reached Rowan at nearly the exact second that Chaol and Dorian did.

“Hey guys.” She said, slightly out of breath. Chaol gave her a once over and his brows furrowed at whatever he saw.

“Pull your skirt down A.” His voice was full of unjustified disdain. “You look like you just got railed in a bathroom.”

Aelin glanced down at herself. Her skirt was in fact, extremely ridden up, and half her ass was falling out. In her haste to prevent a fight she had forgotten to check her appearance. She knew she should pull it down, what Chaol said was completely logical. And yet, they were broken up, who the hell was he to tell her what to do.

Aelin shot him her sweetest simpering smile. “Maybe I did.”

He bit out a harsh laugh, and she felt Rowan’s body tighten beside her. “Who the hell - “ Chaol started to say, but was cut off by his mouth falling open.

Aelin, tired of hearing her ex speak, had taken action into her own hands. From the left of Rowan, she placed her right hand on his far cheek and spun her body around smoothly, bringing her lips to his.

For a moment, he didn't reciprocate the gesture and Aelin’s heart began to race. Just as she began to pull away, his arm came around her lower back, and he started to really kiss her. Her other hand tangled in his hair as they stood intertwined.

The rest of the room seemed to fall away, the music becoming faint and the lights dim as she kissed him. Someone coughed from beside them, pulling Aelin out of her daze. Slowly, she extracted herself from Rowan and turned back around to Chaol. He was staring at them, looking as though he’d just been slapped.

Aelin delighted in the feeling of power flowing through her veins. She tucked her hands behind her back, and realizing her skirt had ridden up even further, she pulled it down. There were lines that even Aelin wasn't willing to cross to prove a point.

To Dorian’s credit, he looked incredibly amused with the entire situation, and was clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Chaol’s expression was pretty funny, Aelin noted.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. Aelin recognized the exact second when he went from shocked to angry. Everything about him changed; his eyes, his posture, the way he held his hands. He was on the offensive now, and all Aelin could do was brace herself for the coming verbal assault.

“You whore.” He spat.

Un-original. Aelin thought to herself. He really needed new material.

“I always knew you were fucking him on the side.” Chaol’s whole body was trembling with anger, and even Dorian had the good sense to look unnerved.

Aelin didn't dare look at Rowan or Lorcan. “Chaol.” She said calmly, “lets go somewhere else to talk about this.” She was quickly growing un-easy. Aelin had wanted a reaction. Yes. But she wasn't expecting the look of pure hatred shining in Chaol’s eyes. The usually soft brown had darkened to a near black, making him look unhinged.

He ignored her soft request completely. “How long Aelin?” He asked, his voice suddenly deadly soft. “How long did you wait after fucking me before you were back in his bed.”

Suddenly Aelin felt a little ill. “It wasn't like that.” She hated how quiet her voice sounded.

“Then what was it like huh?”

“Please Chaol,” she half begged. “Can we just talk somewhere else?”

“Why?” The expression on his face had turned evil. “You don't want the whole room to know that you're a fucking whore.”

He yelled the last word, but luckily it got lost in the music.

“It’s pathetic really,” he turned back on her. “Your constant need for male validation.”

He gave her outfit a once over, and Aelin found herself wishing she’d worn something more conservative.

“You are worthless.” He spat the words again, shaking his head with faux-disappointment. “You’re parents probably killed themselves to get away from you.”

Aelin barely had time to process the words before Rowan exploded. His fist connected with Chaol’s cheek, sending the latter flying backwards. He hit the ground hard, people and plastic cups scattering in his wake. Rowan was on him in an instant, pummelling his face into the tile floor. Blood leaked from Chaol’s face, seeping onto his shirt and the floor.

Aelin didn't even hear Lorcan swear and run over to Rowan. She was too focused on trying not to scream. Lorcan threw his arms around Rowan, attempting to pull the thrashing high-schooler away. Rowan fought in Lorcan’s arms, before eventually slowing his efforts.

Dorian, swearing under his breath, knelt beside Chaol. The room was spinning, and Aelin’s head fucking hurt. She stumbled through the room, trying to find the exit. There was a loud roaring in her ears, and spots danced in her vision.

Fuck. What if she fainted at a high-school party? Aelin would never live that shit down.

“Oof.” She grunted as she slammed into a wall. Aelin groped about blindly, searching for a door. She nearly collapsed with relief as she found one, and threw herself in, shutting the door. She barely had time to lock it before she was vomiting, most of it landing in the toilet.

“Fucking hell!” A voice exclaimed loudly. Aelin allowed herself to finish retching before she turned to face her latest stroke of bad luck. Could she not be alone for five fucking seconds?

The male beside her was clearly just finishing up washing his hands, as he was still holding a hand towel. “Aelin?” He asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Cairn.” She grumbled in reply, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Aelin had never really liked Cairn. He hated Chaol with a passion, envied her ex-boyfriend for getting the captain spot in sophomore year, a spot that everyone thought was going to Cairn.

Despite the poor timing, Aelin had been meaning to track Cairn down to talk. Far be it for her to give up this perfect opportunity, vomit and near panic attack aside. She slowly pulled herself into a standing position and nudged Cairn away from the sink so she could splash some water on her face. The cold helped centre her again, and Aelin let herself take a deep breath.

Cairn was watching her with a look of apprehension, as if watching a slow motion car crash.

“I heard about your bet.” She said in a monotone voice.

Cairn’s jaw tensed, but that was all the physical reaction he showed.

“Im not going to try anything.” He said softly, surprising her a little. “I have a thing about vomit.”

Suddenly Aelin was thankful for the small nearly invisible chunks of throw-up left on her shirt.

“Am I supposed to thank you for not being a dick?” She asked him

“I didn't ask you to. You thanked me enough with that show out there. I just won 200$ off a bet I made a year ago.”

“A bet on what?” She asked, unsure of if she really even wanted to know.

Cairn smirked. “Who would throw the first punch?”

Aelin couldn't help the way her whole body tensed. “You seem to be betting a lot lately.”

“I had a thousand dollars on you and me getting together at this party A.” He shrugged as if the loss of that kind of money didn't matter to him. “You owe me.”

She decided to ignore the last part of the comment. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to fuck me?”

Against her own wishes she bit out a small laugh. The joke wasn't even funny, and slightly offensive, but the look of hope on his face did enough.

“No. I’m just going to let you tell people I did.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “And why would you do that?”

She tried to hide how much she had riding on his response. “Your going to let Rowan on the football team. Or at least a try out.”

Cairn laughed, a real laugh. “Chaol will murder me.”

She tapped her foot. “You get a thousand dollars and can tell everyone whatever you want about me.” She paused. “Just nothing too humiliating okay?”

His answering grin was borderline wicked. “Deal.”

The shook hands briefly. Aelin didn't really mind Cairn telling people about the two of them, it would either be dismissed entirely as a rumour or forgotten soon there after. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.

The door handle turned and she spun around. “I’ll leave you alone then.” Cairn said, nodding at her. He had stepped mostly out before he paused once again.

“Sometimes Aelin I wonder if you and me are soulmates.”

She nearly choked on air. “What.”

He just smiled, a softer smile than she’d ever seen on him. “We’re just more alike than you think.” With that he left, closing the bathroom door behind him.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Cryptic fucking prick.

Aelin took a few moments to finger brush her hair and straighten her clothes before exiting the bathroom. God high school parties were awful. She just needed to get to the front door without bumping into anyone of note, call an uber, and get the fuck home. Not too bad right?

She managed to get about halfway before someone called her name. Aelin didn't bother to look around, just kept elbowing through the crowd as if her life depended on it.

“Aelin!” The voice was louder this time, getting closer too.

She had just made it to the threshold when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Choosing to ignore it, Aelin flung open the door and half collapsed onto a step, praying that whoever it was could take a hint.

Unfortunately for her the weight shifted on the wooden porch and Chaol Westfall took the seat beside her.

She got up to leave immediately, despite her exhaustion, but he reached out a hand.

“Please.” He said. “Just hear me out. It’ll be quick.”

Aelin did. But only because she was pretty sure she would collapse if she didn't rest for a little longer.

“Aelin I'm really fucking sorry okay. I crossed a line.”

She didn't bother to reply. Aelin couldn't count the amount of times they’d had this exact same conversation. He said something shitty, she walked away, he apologized a day later.

For some fucked up reason she always forgave him. Aelin didn't have the energy to make tonight any different. She wanted to be on good terms with Chaol, even if that meant taking a slight hit to her dignity. If she had any left.

“I mean I know you’re not sleeping with Rowan so everything is okay.”

She whipped her head around to look at him.

“Is that the only reason you’re apologizing?”

He gave her a once-over. “I mean yeah.” He paused. “You weren't fucking him so there was no reason for me to get mad.”

She shook her head, mad at herself for being surprised. “God Chaol. Each time I think you can't be an ever bigger dick, you prove me wrong.”

She moved to stand leaning slightly on the railing. An Uber was parked along the curb, evident from the odd looking U on the windshield. She stumbled towards it and rapped on the window.

“Are you Yrene?” The man in the driver’s seat asked.

Aelin nodded, sliding into the back seat. She closed the door behind her and rested her head against the head rest, fighting off sleep.

“I am.”

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