#Chaol was like say no more chug chug chug

[trashcherry]

Dislike Chaol Westfall all you like but don't deny the coolest things he's done which are marrying Yrene Towers and riding into battle against a valg army on a horse named butterfly.

#oh you mean Yrene Towers' husband? #Yrene Towers said you gotta drink the whole jar of women juice #Chaol was like say no more chug chug chug #tog fandom #chaol westfall #yrene towers #tower of dawn #cluster

[snelbz]

Shot to the Heart {Rowaelin AU Fluff}

Tag Team with @tacmc aka the BDavis to myPSawyer.

Once a month, everyone took a night to spend time together, outside of a bar, and just have fun. Oftentimes, that meant a game night at someone’s house, a nice dinner or ice skating, in the winter. But sometimes, they liked to get out and do more fun things. They’d been zip lining, kayaking, played putt putt, you name it. There were times where things got a little competitive between them all, especially when they decided to compete between the sexes.

They were still banned from the Strike & Spare from the last boys and girls night.

So when it was Elide and Lorcan’s turn to choose, they decided to do something a little more conducive to their violent behavior.

“Where exactly are we going?” Aelin asked as she climbed into Rowan’s truck.

He glanced at his watch. “No clue, Lorcan just said to meet at Rita’s at eight.”

“That’s dangerous,” Aelin muttered, but her grin told him that she approved.

He pulled onto the road and began their drive, only the radio playing in the background. He kept trying not to stare, even though she looked beautiful and he wanted to tell her as much. They’d been best friends for years, always teasing that fine line between best friends and so much more.

Their friends constantly teased them about it, as they all began to settle down one by one.

You already spend as much time together as a couple does.

They’d always had reasons not to though. In high school, there was Sam and Lyria, though the four of them were always together. Makes sense that they ended up together, after they both went away to Fennharrow for college. Rowan and Aelin couldn’t be happier for them. The break ups had been amicable and they were going to Fennharrow together for their wedding next Spring.

In college, Aelin had met Chaol and Rowan had Remelle. Chaol was a permanent figure for a while, but Remelle was more of a time to time thing. They’d both been single for a while, but nothing had ever happened. There were many glances and accidental brushes between them, more so when the two of them had a movie night.

Then, the next time they saw one another, they pretended like nothing had happened.

Rowan didn’t mind it, though. He preferred to have Aelin as a best friend then not have her at all. Even if he did make a move one day, he didn’t know how she would take it.

When Rowan pulled into Rita’s, the others were already there, on the patio, drinks on their hands. Aelin was out before he was, hurrying over to throw her arms around Lysandra and Elide. Rowan watched her before grabbing his wallet, his phone, and his keys and joining them there.

Lorcan was watching him suspiciously.

He sat next to him, motioning to their regular server for his regular drink. He looked over and found Lorcan still looking at him.

“What?” He asked.

Lorcan raises his beer to his lips. “This a date?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “No, I offered to drive her because it was on the way and she can’t hold her liquor.”

The two looked up and found the trio of girls tossing back a shot of amber liquid.

Lorcan took his drink, setting the bottle on the table top and crossing his ankle over his knee. “It’s reasonable, as far as your excuses go. Both are valid and make sense.”

Two dark bottles appeared in front of them and their server slipped away like she’d never been there.

“It’s not an excuse,” Rowan muttered, taking a sip from his glass. “It’s a fact.”

“Whatever you say,” Lorcan mumbled, but it was blatantly obvious that he thought Rowan was full of shit. “But when you two get married, Elide has called Maid of Honor.”

It took everything in Rowan’s power not to roll his eyes. “Don’t you two have anything better to talk about when you’re alone?”

“We’ve been together for five years,” Lorcan said, as if it was an appropriate answer. “So...no. We talk about bills, who’s going to do the dishes, and when the hell the two of you are going to fuck.”

Rowan choked on his drink.

“I never thought I’d have to ask this, but please don’t discuss my sex life with your fiancée.”

“Excuse you?”

Rowan and Lorcan looked up and found Elide and Aelin standing at the end of the table.

Rowan stammered but Lorcan laughed quietly.

“Okay,” Aelin said, awkwardly, “Is everyone here?”

Elide sat down next to Lorcan and said, “Fenrys, Asterin, and Manon are meeting us at the...place. Dorian is already there.”

“So, that’s a yes?” Aelin laughed.

“That’s a yes,” Elide confirmed, snuggling up close to Lorcan’s massive frame. “So, let’s get tipsy and go get banned from yet another family-friendly establishment.”

Lorcan snorted and raised his glass.

Rowan raised his glass to Aelin’s and met it with a clink.

“Our friends are ridiculous,” Aelin said, underneath her breath.

“Sometimes I wonder why I keep coming back,” Rowan replied, before chugging half his glass and setting it down on the table. When he met her humored gaze, he was reminded exactly why he kept coming back.

They finished their drinks and Rowan and Aelin packed themselves back up into Rowan’s truck so that they could follow Lorcan and Elide to the surprise location. Aedion and Lysandra stayed to order food and would join them shortly.

“So what conversation did I walk in on back there?” Aelin asked once they were on the way.

Rowan cleared his throat and said, “What conversation?”

Without even looking, he knew she had an eyebrow raised. “Really, Rowan. The conversation about your sex life.”

“Just Lorcan being an asshole,” he said, trying to wave her off the conversation.

Aelin was looking at him, and he was trying so hard not to look back

“I have no sex life,” Rowan blurted, after her silence had gone on a few seconds too long. “Not that I’ve never had sex, or don’t have opportunities to...Gods. Nevermind.”

Aelin was laughing quietly. “Holy shit, you’re flustered.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, gripping the wheel a little bit tighter. “I’m just...very personal.”

“Even with me?” She asked, humored.

Especially with you, he thought. Instead, he said, “Yes.”

Her grin only widened. “When’s the last time you got laid, Ro?”

His cheeks were on fire. His ears were on fire. The back of his neck was on fire. Everything was on fire. He cleared his throat again. “That’s none of your business.”

“Just tell me if it was recent or not,” she turned in her seatbelt to face him.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m not telling you that.”

Aelin said, “Why not, we tell each other everything. I’ll tell you.”

“Please, please don’t,” he blurted.

She lifted a brow, then began to nod, slowly, recognition showing in her eyes. Rowan suddenly felt like an idiot, but then Aelin said, quietly, “It’s been a long ass time, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I don’t- it doesn’t-.” His words broke off as he sighed, and Aelin laughed quietly. “You go get some if you wanna get some… I just…don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

“How very kind of you,” Aelin crooned, but he was sure he ruined it all now, was certain she knew that he was full of bullshit.

“As your best friend, that’s my job,” Rowan said, trying to make himself sound convincing.

As he pulled up to a red light, she leaned over and patted his cheek. “And you’ve done a wonderful job.”

Unable to stop himself, he turned and pressed his lips to her palm, locking eyes with her. It was the ballsiest thing he’d ever done and he felt hot and cold all over as he waited for her to react. She swallowed hard, tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip and-.

A horn honked behind them, as the light had been green for longer than two seconds, and Rowan turned his head forward as quickly as Aelin withdrew her arm back to her own side of the cab. He hit the gas and they took off, and Aelin flipped the bird behind them.

“Ace,” he laughed, “you can’t do that. He had every right to honk at me.”

She crossed her arms and sat up a little higher. “Yeah, well he didn’t have to lay on his horn like an asshole. A simple beep beep would have sufficed. Stupid, impatient fucker.”

The truck got quiet for a second and then they both dissolved into laughter, the tension from the moment before fading into near obscurity.

Two minutes later they followed Lorcan’s car into the parking lot of a laser tag facility, and Rowan swore under his breath.

Aelin laughed. “What? You don’t like laser tag?”

“The last time I played laser tag, I was twelve and ate too much shitty pizza,” he muttered, parking and turning off the engine. “Let’s just say they had to stop the game, turn the lights on, and call for the janitor to come in with a mop.”

“Aw,” Aelin said, her grin suggesting that she felt no pity. “Well, it’s a decade later, and you’ve had no shitty pizza. So, get out and let me kick your ass.”

Before Rowan could reply, she was out of the truck and closing the door behind her.

He groaned and laughed quietly as he had a feeling he was in for a hell of a night.

He got out of the truck and slipped his hands in his pockets as he walked over to where everyone was grouping up.

“I want to be up front and say that I feel like the girls cheated,” Rowan said to Lorcan as he leaned against the rail next to him.

“And why is that?” Elide asked, outrage written across her face.

“Because every single one of you are wearing black.” Lorcan tossed a pointed glance at his fiancée.

Elide held up her hands. “I said nothing.”

Manon’s man-eating grin said otherwise.

Rowan looked down at his light gray t-shirt. At least it wouldn’t glow when they got inside, unlike Dorian’s pure white v-neck.

“If Aedion and Lys don’t get here soon, we’re starting without them,” Manon announced, already growing impatient.

“Agreed,” Lorcan said.

They waited thirty more seconds before the impatience grew unbearable, then their group of eight was walking in.

Girls vs. boys.

Rowan was unprepared. He needed another drink.

Thankfully, it seemed Lorcan was in agreement because the first place he went was to the snack bar and ordered two pitchers of beer. Rowan reached for one of the glasses but Lorcan pulled them back.

“Nope, these are part of the game.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow as Elide began to explain the rules.

For the most part, it was the regular run of the laser tag - hit your opponents’ targets with your point-and-shoot laser pointer and get the most points for your team. There was one caveat though.

“Both pitchers have to be empty by the end of the round,” Lorcan announced. “If your team doesn’t finish your pitcher, you automatically lose.”

“It doesn’t have to be drunk equally. If Aelin doesn’t feel like drinking,” Lorcan mumbled Like that would ever happen, and Aelin glared at him, “she doesn’t have to drink. Just as long as its empty at the end.”

They all voiced their agreement, put on their vests and gathered their guns, then they were tossed into the room.

Rowan was met with darkness and neon, glowing lights as he hurried into a tower. It was his go to. Get to the highest point, and see everyone. Then he paused, as he noticed a lock of his hair falling down in front of his face.

He had silver hair, in a room full of blacklights.

He was instantly a target.

After cursing his hair, he was on the move. He spotted Manon from the other side of the room, took aim, and hit her target.

She yelled a curse at him before he was moving, once more.

He headed for the predetermined boys base, and filled a cup with beer. It seemed he was the first to do so, but Fenrys soon jogged up, muttering about how it was unfair for a marksman like Manon to even be playing this game. His chest target was lit up red and he had a good ten seconds left before he could get back in the game. He saw Rowan and said, “That your first?”

He nodded and began drinking. “Drink two every time we stop?”

Fen nodded. “Quickest way to kill it.”

They both took a minute to chug before Rowan asked, “Seen Aelin?”

Fenrys shook his head. “She’s got a good spot, I’m sure. She has the mind for these things. Strategic.”

Rowan agreed. She was that.

After setting his plastic cup down, Rowan was back on the move.

He crept around a few different corners before he caught sight of her golden ponytail. He followed her, slowly, fully aware that he didn’t have the same graceful, quiet movements that she did. He knew there was straightaway up ahead and if he could stay back long enough, he could get a clean shot on her as she fled to the other side.

He crept along the final corner, pausing to peek behind him-.

He felt a hand on his chest and looked back to find Aelin gazing up at him. He didn’t even fumble for his gun as she pushed slightly and he backed up a few steps. His back hit the wall with a quiet thump and Aelin said, quietly, “Would you like to do what you did in the truck one more time?”

He hesitated, unsure if he was understanding her correctly. She took his bewildered look as acceptance, though, because her smile softened as she leaned up on her toes and pulled his face closer to hers with her hand on the back of his head.

Their lips met softly in the middle, once, twice, slowly, gently.

She tasted bitterly sweet, her peach chapstick mixed with the tequila shots she had earlier and the beer she was downing now. Rowan wanted the moment to last forever, but it was soon broken as Aelin leaned back, her eyes bright.

He smiled and leaned down, wanting to capture her lips against his one more time, closing his eyes.

There was a loud buzzing and then his best began to vibrate. His eyes shot open and Aelin was running away, a devilish glint in her eyes.

He blinked, watching her run away.

She had shot him.

She had kissed him.

Then she had shot him.

He stood, completely frozen, utterly dumbfounded.

Lorcan came around the corner, saw that he’d been shot, and shook his head. “You suck at this, Whitethorn.”

Rowan couldn’t even remember how to form words for a sarcastic reply. Instead, he just turned and walked back toward the pitcher of beer, where he downed two more glasses before deciding to hunt Aelin down as the alcohol warmed his body.

He knew the girls couldn’t be as close to finishing as they were, especially seeing Dorian heading back to their base with maybe one full cup and a half left in their pitcher. Rowan successfully snuck around to where the girls had named their base and found a perfect wall to crouch behind and lie in wait. The pitcher was directly in his line of sight, and it was still over half full.

Elide ran right past his hiding place without noticing him and he knew he could get a free shot out of it, but he’d give away his position. So he waited and he bided his time.

Rowan had just begun scoping out the alley behind his when a flash of white to his left distracted him. Manon ran by putting the pitcher directly to her lips and drinking. His eyebrows raised as she took down a sizable amount of their beer at once, but Aelin appeared beside her. They spoke animatedly and Aelin laughed as Manon ran back down the middle lane, hunting for another victim.

Holding his breath, he threw the empty plastic cup he’d been holding down the empty alley beside him.

Aelin heard it immediately, turning and staring in his direction. He was obscured by the half wall and as soon as she crept by, her gun aimed down the alley, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist, pinning it - and her gun - to the wall.

Her eyes were bright with excitement and he couldn’t stop his gaze from dipping down and watching intently as she bit her bottom lip.

He didn’t know why his voice had dropped so low, why it sounded like he’d been gargling nails, but he leaned down by her ear and breathed, “Was that just so you could distract me?”

He was almost worried for her reply, but then she asked, “Is this just so you can distract me?”

He glanced down, not even realizing he’d been using his body to press her into the wall, hadn’t realized how close their faces had gotten.

He shook his head, slowly, the tip of his nose brushing hers ever so lightly.

Aelin sucked in a breath as she whispered, “Good.”

He kissed her then, much harder than she had kissed him. He slowly dropped her arms that were pinned to the wall, only so he could drop his gun and cup her face. Those delicate, steady arms of hers wrapped around his waist and she held his body close up against hers.

Aelin brushed her tongue along the seam of Rowan’s lips, asking permission, not just taking as she’d done before. But there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman, nothing he wouldn’t give to her if it was in his power. He opened for her and let his tongue brush against hers softly. She groaned quietly.

Rowan pulled back, catching his breath, and rested his forehead against hers. He took the moment to gaze at her in the darkness. She was the most beautiful damn thing he’d ever seen.

She breathed, “I’ve wanted to do that for a really, really long time.”

“Me too,” he whispered, laughing quietly. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he kissed her, once again, damning the game and forgetting about their friends.

For a moment, it was just the two of them, and that was all he cared about.

#tacmc toab tag team #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #toab tacmc collab #the shara tag #shara writes #rowaelin au #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #throne of glass

[epochofbelief]

Our couple just got together a while ago and they dont know each other habits yet. So when one of them sleeps really late and doesnt answer messages the other is really worried... I hope this is okay 😊 I dont have any preferences for our couple. But I think this would go well with Rowaelin.

i’m so glad I can always count on @queen-of-glass​ to provide me with a lovely and fun prompt:))))this is highly unedited lol

-----

The music thumped loudly throughout the house as Aelin and Lysandra pushed their way to the kitchen. She couldn’t remember whose house this was--Fenrys and Connall’s? Gavriels? It was somebody’s from the most popular group of senior boys. It certainly wasn’t Lorcan’s.

Finally, Lysandra left Aelin in the dust and returned moments later with two cups of beer. Aelin seized it, knocked her plastic cup against Lysandra’s, the they chugged in unison. This was their pre-graduation party, after all. No holding back, they had decided before they’d arrived. Aedion was going to be their DD, wherever he was.

They finished their cups in a few moments, squished against the wall near the staircase. Someone passed by with a bottle of vodka, offering it to random partygoers. Lysandra shouted, and the boy--Fenrys, Aelin could now see--let each of the girls take a shot.

“I’m going back for more!” Aelin shouted over the music.

“I’m going to find Aedion!” Lysandra responded, and Aelin rolled her eyes. If only her cousin and her best friend would DATE already. Barely two drinks in and Lysandra had to go find him, leaving her to fend for herself. Typical.

A few months ago, Aelin would have been able to go to Chaol. They’d enjoyed the few high school parties they’d attended for the few months they had dated. But that had been over for nearly two months. Ever since Lys and Aedion started... flirting? Talking? Whatever--ever since then Aelin had felt a little like a third wheel. She wanted them to be happy, of course, but her two closest friends were now so wrapped up in each other that Aelin had started wanting that for herself again.

Two cups of beer and two more shots later, Aelin found herself wandering around, looking for someone to talk to. Fenrys, her usual drinking buddy, was nowhere to be seen. The same could be said for Lysandra and Aedion. Without thinking, Aelin made her way up the staircase to the second floor. Despite the alcohol numbing most of her feelings, she still felt lonely.

She slipped into the first door on the right and found a teenage boy’s room behind it. It was clean, though, and sparsely furnished. The pile of basketball uniforms and gear in the corner was enough to tell her that this was Rowan Whitethorn’s room, and therefore that meant this was Rowan Whitethorn’s house. Shit. Aelin had been crushing on him since her freshman year. He was a basketball star, confident, reserved, a decent guy. She’d always figured she stood no chance with him, seeing as they ran in different circles.

“I’ll be right there!” A voice sounded from beyond the door and Aelin frantically looked for an escape room. There was nowhere to go.

So standing motionless in the center of his bedroom was exactly where Rowan Whitethorn found her, moments later.

“Hi.” He said shortly.

“Hi,” Aelin managed to breathe. Rowan really was quite good looking.

“Can I help you?”

“No...” Aelin was standing very still, trying to conceal how drunk she was. That would only make this more embarrassing.

“Well, is there any reason you’re in my room?”

Aelin couldn’t resist. “You tell me, Whitethorn,” she said in a low voice, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan blushed and pleasure coursed through Aelin’s body. Teasing, especially while drunk, was very fun.

“Funny, Aelin. We don’t even know each other.” He seemed fairly sober.

She shrugged. “Please. We’ve gone to high school together for four years. I know you’re good at basketball, you suck at English, and your math scores are off the charts good. You’re withdrawn, and...” Aelin realized she was rambling. It was her turn to blush as Rowan finally realized that she was drunk.

“So you’re saying that, since we know each other so well, you’re up here because you want to... what, Aelin?”

Aelin glanced at the bed. Rowan smirked. “You’re making fun of me.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Obviously, Whitethorn. But that doesn’t mean I’m not at least partially serious.” The alcohol was making her reckless.

He took a few steps forward. Maybe he was drunker than she had originally assumed...

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching me in class the past few weeks. Months. Years.”

He was close enough now that she swatted his arm. “Stop making stuff up.” But he was right. She had always admired him from afar--not in a creepy way.

“You know it’s true.”

Aelin blushed again. This alcohol was destroying her usual confident demeanor! And Rowan Whitethorn’s presence didn’t help that, either. “Well if you’ve noticed me watching you, that means YOU have also been watching ME.”

He stopped in his tracks, now only a hands breadth between them. “Fair enough,” he said simple, and kissed her.

Aelin didn’t question it, only pulled him closer, winding her arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist as their lips met, softly at first and then quickly developing into needy and intense kisses.

After a few moments, they broke apart. “We are too drunk to be doing this now.”

“Who cares?” Aelin said, although she knew he was right.

“I do. I wish our first kiss hadn’t been while we were intoxicated.”

Aelin grinned smugly and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, so does that mean there will be a second kiss?”

He chuckled. “Maybe so. But not tonight.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Chivalry. And here I was thinking it was dead.”

Rowan slid his hand into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. Aelin just stood there, watching him as he typed his number and texted himself.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he said, and turned to go.

“Whitethorn.”

He turned, and Aelin crashed into him, her lips finding his. When they separated, Aelin said, “Guess that third kiss will have to be the sober one.”

-----------------------------

The next morning, Rowan woke up with a massive headache and happiness flowing through his veins. Last night, he had finally kissed Aelin Galathynius. Aelin had seemed to always have a boyfriend all throughout their high school career. First Sam, a less-popular guy for their class but one who was well known for his success on the swim team. Then Dorian, the President of Student Council, when they were sophomores. Then Chaol for a couple of years. Rowan had loved her since sophomore year, after he’d seen her stand up for Nehemia, her old best friend, in the middle of the cafeteria, in front of the whole school. Some of their classmates had been making fun of Nehemia’s fashion choices and Aelin had told them all to go to hell, earning a week of detention for shouting that phrase--and several other, dirtier curses--all over the lunchroom. But she had done it for her friend.

Rowan had been gone for her ever since.

He checked his phone. It was 10 am. Surely not too early to text her. Right?

He settled with an ambiguous “Hey.” Then he stumbled downstairs to eat breakfast.

When he checked his phone an hour later, there was no response. No need to panic, right? Perhaps she was still asleep. The party had gone rather late, after all.

But by noon, Aelin still hadn’t said anything. Rowan started getting anxious. Had she been drunker than he’d thought last night? Too drunk to remember the kiss? She had seemed fairly coherent, aware. Certainly sober enough to tease him, for gods’ sake. Rowan went for a run, then did some homework, ate lunch, called Gavriel to confess his anxiety about Aelin, and by 3 pm he had reached nearly catastrophic levels of nerves.

So he did exactly what Gavriel had advised him against. He called her.

After several rings, just when he was about to give up and end the call, she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded through the phone, harsh with disuse.

“Uh... Aelin?”

“Oh my gods, Whitethorn. Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”

Rowan checked his watch. “It’s 3:07, Aelin.”

“Shit! I’d meant to wake up at 2:30!”

“That’s still incredibly late, Galathynius. I didn’t realize you were such a late sleeper.” Rowan felt a little stupid. He’d freaked out for nothing.

“How else do you think I got to look this beautiful, Whitethorn? I need my beauty rest.”

Rowan laughed softly. “I’m sorry... I’ll let you go.”

“No, no, I’m up now. Now it’s your job to talk to me.”

Rowan smiled. “I’d be much obliged.”

They talked for the next two hours.

#throne of glass #tog prompts #tog #throne of glass au #rowaelin au #rowaelin #rowaelin prompt #rowan #aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #sarah j maas

[rhysanoodle]

Winning Hand

Chaorian Smut (Pre-TOG)

Word count: 1574

Based on headcanons from the lovely @sncinder 😘

AO3

“Chaollll, come here,” Dorian slurred from his seat at the table, a glass of sparkling wine hanging from his hand and flashing him a roguish grin.

The party had been lavish, as all the ones Dorian was want to attend were. In the mansion of some haughty noble whose name Chaol had already forgotten, he’d watched Dorian dance the early hours of the morning away at the masquerade.

Chaol thought it was all quite distasteful. Even though it was standard protocol at these affairs, he still winced at all the illicit activities that had been happening in the curtained-off alcoves. He knew it was his night off duty, and he was here in disguise, but Clarisse and her girls had come out in full-force tonight. He was frankly quite disgusted at all the opium-induced women being forced to work like that. For gods’ sakes, the courtesans were even putting on shows and dancing on swings lowered from the ceiling.

At least Dorian hadn’t gravitated toward any of them in particular after the blonde beauty who’d ensnared him the moment he’d walked down the stairs and onto the dance floor. Chaol had seen the twinkle in Dorian’s eyes as the minx lured him in with a few smiles and a suggestive dance, and Dorian tried to inconspicuously make his way across the dance floor toward her. Everything had been going well, and perhaps the night would’ve been less tense, if a brooding, handsome male hadn’t interrupted them. Chaol had instantly been at Dorian’s side, in case the drunken altercation turned violent, but after some frustrated groans from the woman, she’d reluctantly followed her counterpart and left the party.

Chaol had retreated back to the shadows, watching Dorian pass from woman to woman, chugging drink after drink, but none of them held his interest for long.

After an hour, he dragged Chaol along to a small side room with some card tables and chaise lounges.

Dorian instantly pulled a handful of gold out of his coin purse and placed it on an open table, signaling that he wanted in. He’d tried to get Chaol to budge from his spot just inside the doorway, but Chaol wouldn’t be swayed by a frivolous card game.

Dorian lost round after round, his spending money for the night diminished as the giddy noblemen decided to make off with their profit at around four-thirty in the morning. They really should be heading back to the castle soon. The sun was almost up, and though Georgina generally turned a blind eye to Dorian’s wiles, the crown prince of Adarlan returning after the sun was up would certainly turn some unwanted heads in their direction.

And now, Dorian was eyeing him greedily and patting his...lap?

“Come play cards with me,” Dorian whined.

Chaol had never been much of one for cards, but perhaps if he let Dorian win a few rounds, his prince would be placated and ready to retire. He took a seat across the table from Dorian, and was instantly met with Dorian’s wine glass being shoved in front of him.

“Drink,” his friend insisted. “You’ve looked so stuffy all night. You never enjoy yourself at parties with me anymore.”

“I can’t. You know I still have to be alert to guard you,” Chaol retorted.

“Oh please. Ress and Brullo are definitely hovering somewhere nearby. It’ll be fiiiiine.” An insistent hand shoved the glass even closer to Chaol, almost knocking it over and onto his suit.

“Okay, you drunk bastard. One drink. Deal me in.”

Somehow one drink continued to get refilled from the bottle next to Dorian before Chaol could ever finish his glass. Dorian insisted that it still counted as only one drink, and Chaol had gotten too tired to contradict him at this point. His only hope was if Dorian tired himself out soon.

Try as he might, Chaol could not win a hand for the life of him. He’d intentionally wanted Dorian to win the first few to boost his spirits, but now he was starting to grow frustrated. Every time he would up the ante, Dorian would pull out full houses and flushes which would blow Chaol’s otherwise decent hand out of the water.

One time, as Dorian laid down a flush with a flourish placed on the two king cards on top, he winked at Chaol before haughtily saying, “I believe the wager was five sips of wine.” With nothing better, like money, to bet with at this point in the evening, Chaol had eagerly taken drinking over stripping. Cocky bastard.

Chaol couldn’t help but admit that Dorian’s charm was in full swing tonight, but he was squirming under the heated, lingering gazes his friend was subjecting him to every time he claimed that he was trying to gauge whether or not Chaol was bluffing.

After a particularly terrible hand, Chaol had thrown his cards on the floor and stormed off in a huff towards the chaise. Gods, the alcohol was really doing a number on him. His tolerance had gone to shit since he’d started attending parties in an official capacity.

Dorian just chuckled at the display and stalked over to Chaol, and before Chaol could process what was happening, Dorian had tackled Chaol onto the couch, pinning him beneath his muscular chest.

“Are you having fun tonight, my Captain?” Dorian slurred, staring Chaol intensely in the eyes.

Oh no. Chaol knew that look, had seen it countless times as Dorian chose his conquests each night.

Chaol tried half-heartedly to wriggle out from beneath Dorian, but failed miserably. Sure, Dorian was immensely attractive, but Chaol didn’t feel that way about him. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that way about Dorian.

Dorian leaned in, pausing a hair’s-breadth from Chaol’s mouth, waiting for any sign that Chaol truly didn’t want him. But Chaol was stunned and quite frankly wanted nothing more in this moment — even though he shouldn’t. Their breaths mingling, Dorian scanned his face one final time before lightly brushing his lips against Chaol’s, and oh gods, they tasted so sinfully delicious that Chaol’s body reacted before he could even process the actions, leaning up off the couch to deepen the kiss.

No. Dorian was his prince. This was violating every oath Chaol had taken. And Dorian couldn’t possibly want an outcast from Anielle for himself. He’d end up marrying a noble lady for an alliance, and needed to have heirs and…

Dorian’s tongue ran over Chaol’s lips, and Chaol opened to him fully, their tongues clashing in a passionate frenzy as Chaol reached up, running one hand through Dorian’s hair, the other moving to the small of his back, pressing them closer together.

Shit. Even if this were a one-time engagement, if anyone found out about the two of them being together, Chaol would surely be shipped right back home to Anielle and Dorian chastised severely, and he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from his soul brother.

But...Dorian’s hair felt like silk in his hands, and the skin at the nape of his neck was so unbelievably soft, and the scent of his cologne was singing divinely in his nostrils, urging him forward. More, more, more.

Dorian let out a small moan as Chaol bit down on his lower lip before launching right back into the sensuous kiss.

“Funny, I only remember you strapping two daggers to your belt this evening,” Dorian murmured as he grabbed the bulge which was embarrassingly apparent in Chaol’s pants before Chaol had a chance to react to the comment.

Mother above. He let out a small groan as Dorian teased him from outside his pants before his fingers had deftly moved to his belt buckle. Slipping his hand into the waistband of Chaol’s undergarments, Dorian began insatiably fondling his balls, causing his already erect penis to harden further, his boxers now damp.

Deepening the kiss, Dorian moved his hand up the shaft, teasing the head with his thumb and slowly beginning to stroke up and down. He pick up his rhythm, moving incessantly on Chaol until his body tensed and waves of pleasure overcame him. Dorian held him through the thrall, his hand still teasing until Chaol had fully emptied himself.

As Dorian moved to remove Chaol’s pants entirely, Chaol grabbed Dorian’s wrist, returning the sticky hand back to the couch and shaking his head. Not tonight. They were both hammered, and he needed to make sure Dorian thought this through fully.

He’d have all of Dorian or none at all, except for this small teaser, but a relationship like this would have lasting consequences for the both of them if it broke badly.

Giving Dorian one last quick peck, he awkwardly shifted out from underneath him, searching for a cloth to dry himself off with as best he could. Then, he lifted his friend off the couch, supporting Dorian’s stumbling weight with his own.

They needed to return to the castle — the sun was threatening to rise.

He found the other guards, and the four of them ambled through the streets of Rifthold, Dorian’s arm slung over Chaol’s shoulder, singing bawdy tunes and throwing him wistful glances when the others weren’t looking.

Chaol couldn’t wait to get to his quarters to take a very cold bath before sending a messenger to meet with the owner of the estate and see if he couldn’t persuade them to part with that couch.

Tags: @porcelainart @theartfuldodgcr @mikaylamee

Masterlist

#chaorian #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #tog #throne of glass #the assassin's blade #tab #fanfic #my fic #winning hand

[court-of-abs]

“Maybe Tomorrow” (Elorcan Fanfic) [Chapter 6]

Here she is ducklings. I’m a horrible human being, I know. I’m gonna try to get chapter 7 done by this Friday. I’M GONNA TRY. Also, If you want to be added to the “tag list” for all of the following chapters, just comment on this post or message me! Hope you ducklings enjoy chapter 6 :)

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 

Tag List:

@high-lady-of-perranth @addled @bibliophileinnightcourt @bluephoenix222 @colbelike @zorpher @highladyofthedark @empire-of-readers

“Why did you let them come” Lysandra groaned, leaning her head back into the pillows and splaying her arms out over the couch. She let the empty wine bottle fall to the floor.

“Technically I invited the school, and, as much as we might hate it, they are apart of the school.” Aelin was completely serious now as if she hadn’t drunken anything at all. Lysandra groaned again and rose up from the couch.

“If I can acknowledge that they’re here, then I’m not drunk enough” Lysandra declared, and with that she sassed over to the kitchen and morphed into the crowd of people in search of more alcohol. Just as Lysandra disappeared into the crowd, they walked in.

At the forefront was Fenrys, his arm around the beautiful dark-haired girl in their group. Essar was her name, if Elide remembered correctly. Her and Fenrys were easily some of the most beautiful people Elide had ever seen. Connall, Fenrys’ beautiful dark-haired twin followed right behind them alongside Gavriel and a quiet man with short brown hair. Elide couldn’t remember his name.

Much to Elide’s surprise, Aelin had a giant smile plastered on her face that was every ounce genuine as she waved them all over.

“Fen! Essie!” Aelin called. Both of the persons questions turned towards Aelin and mirrored her smile, making their way through the crowd of people with ease.

“Aelin you know how to throw a party!” Essar said, laughing as she plopped down on the couch right in the spot Lysandra had just been.

“I wouldn’t have thrown one if I didn’t know how to” Aelin purred, her grin growing mischievous. Essar only laughed.

“Room for me ladies?” Fenrys said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the coach. But as Fenrys attempted to fit himself between Aelin and Rowan, Rowan gave him such a pointed look that Fenrys had the right idea to back away.

“Where’s my favorite green-eyed beauty?!” Essar yelled out, her hands cupped around her mouth to accentuate her voice. Elide wouldn’t be surprised if Essar had had a drink or two before coming to the party.

“Getting more alcohol” Aelin said, but her smile was tight as she talked about Lysandra; there was probably something between the two. Essar pouted at that. She stretched her arms out and splayed herself over the couch, her head resting in Aelin’s lap. Elide’s eyes darted between everyone.

She was completely, utterly, confused.

“Everything is a lot more complicated than it seems” a voice whispered in her ear. Elide nearly jumped out of her seat. She whipped her head around behind her to see who the voice was and was met with a laughing Nox.

“Nox you nearly scared me half to death!” Elide whined, hand clutched above her heart. Nox just kept laughing and turned his attention towards the opposite coach where Aelin was sitting.

“Most of the cadre is either friends with Aelin, or doesn’t mind her at all” Nox said, his attention fixed on Aelin. Elide turned towards her as well, watching Essar laugh at something Aelin had said, Fenrys probing Rowan every chance he got and dancing out of the way everytime Rowan made a move for him. Even Dorian, sprawled in the chair opposite Elide, Chaol’s head laying lousily on his shoulder, was contributing to the conversation, talking lightly with Connall and calling over to Aelin every now and then. They talked to each other with such ease and grace and familiarity.

Something Elide had never had.

“It’s kind of blinding, isn’t it” Nox whispered. He was sitting on the edge of her chair now, watching them interact with an almost predatory manner.

“Yeah” Elide said mindlessly. She wouldn’t try to process what Nox had said, not today. She was too busy staring at all of them, taking in their dynamic. I could be a part of that Elide thought to herself. But at the same time, Elide felt like couldn’t. Because she wasn’t.

“Where’s the pitbull?!” Aelin yelled, her question directed at the cadre in its entirety. Elide scrunched her brow, looking over the Cadre members. Was someone not there? The twins were, so was Gavriel and the other brown-haired boy - Vaughn was his name, she remembered. Essar was still sprawled on the couch, but no longer layed on top of Aelin. It suddenly hit Elide like a bullet.

Where was Cairn, the boy Nox had told her to keep an eye out for? And Remelle, Maeve’s blonde side-kick? Where was Lorcan?

Where was Maeve herself?

Nox shifted next to her, perhaps realizing the same thing just as she did. Doubtful. He’d probably already realized they weren’t there. Aelin’s rival, Elide’s rival, hadn’t shown up to the party.

“Had stuff to do” Fenrys replied nonchalantly, taking a sip out of a red cup that hadn’t been in his hand a second ago. Dorian waved his hand at that, but Aelin didn’t seem to like his answer.

“Fenrys” she said, warning laced in her tone. She even look over to Essar, silently asking her for the answer she wanted. Essar only avoided her gaze. Aelin looked like she was about to say something, but Rowan beat her to it.

“Where’s Lorcan, Fenrys. Remelle? Cairn?” Rowan ground out, his voice growing colder with each word.

As if on cue, a whistle went through the crowd again, the same sequence of notes that had sounded before. And then, for the second time that night, the cadre walked in.

Remelle was wearing even less clothing than Elide. Cairn had her attached at the hip, his eyes roaming over everyone in the room. And Lorcan lead them both. He had always been over a foot taller than everyone, Elide especially, but now, with a tight black shirt and fitted jeans, he looked twice everyone’s size too. She felt like a doll compared to him.

Rowan bristled as Lorcan’s gaze briefly met his. Rowan’s expression was so cold that Elide couldn’t read anything off of him. She knew that face. She used to wear that face everyday of her life - sometimes still. There was history there.

Cairn pushed past Lorcan as they walked into the room Elide was situated in, haphazardly dragging Remelle along.

“Hello Cairn” Aelin said, rising from her seat on the couch and taking a few steps towards him. Cairn snarled at her, actually snarled at her. Remelle looked so disturbed by Aelin’s presence that it seemed like she wanted to vomit. Lorcan looked impassive, arms crossed over his chest to reveal the muscles underneath.

“Aelin” Cairn merely said, his voice rough. He was taking in the rest of the cadre, Essar sitting with Rowan, and Fenrys standing between them all. Both Essar and Fenrys quickly moved towards Vaughn & Gavriel who were leaning on the wall. Aelin watched their movements as well and sighed.  

Much to everyone’s surprise, Aelin only gave Cairn a smile, ingenuine and malicious, but a smile, and waved her hands to gesture to the party going on around them.

“Enjoy the party” she said, that wicked smile still adorning her face. Cairn ignored Aelin entirely and instead nodded at the other cadre members leaning against the wall. He started walking back into the crowd of people, his arm still firmly around Remelle. Vaughn quickly followed Cairn, not even bothering to glance back at Aelin or any of the others. Fenrys waved them all goodbye, even bowing at Elide like he had the first day of school during gym. Gavriel gave Rowan a quick handshake, but then he was off, Connall close on his heels as he gave Chaol and Dorian one last goodbye.

Essar was the only one left then, her expression held reluctance to follow them, but the war waging in her mind quickly came to an end as she lowered her head and slowly began to follow where the rest of the cadre had gone. Not before she looked up at Lorcan though, to find his gaze boring into hers. They shared a look, one that had Essar straightening just a little. She then ripped her gaze away from him and stalked into the crowd of people. Lorcan followed after her, grabbing a cup from one of the party members, chugging it all down in one go, and then morphing into the crowd as well.

The only thing that Elide could think of in that moment, however stupid it might sound, was that Lorcan hadn’t looked over to her at all.

It had been over an hour since the “encounter” with the cadre, and the party had only grown in size. Elide had talked quietly with Nox for a good 30 minutes or so after the cadre had dispersed, but then he himself had bid her goodbye and faded back into the crowd of people. She wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Elide tapped her foot restlessly on the floor as she leaned back in the chair. She was half tempted to go spend the rest of the night upstairs in Aelin’s room, curled up on her bed with a mountain of blankets and a good book. That is until Aelin and Rowan probably stumbled up there themselves, drunk and looking to do activities that did not involve reading a book. Elide had finished the one she’d “stolen” from the library days ago and was desperate for the sequel. She just might have to go to the library tomorrow before their campaigning session to get it - not “steal” it, of course.

“Ellliiiddddeeeeee” sang a voice from across the room. A very drunk Manon, white hair loose from its always sleek ponytail, broke through the crowd.

“Aeeeelliinnnnnnn” she sang this time, beginning to recite everyone’s name in song. A girl was with her, holding Manon up and laughing every time Manon opened up her mouth. Her smile was so bright it was blinding, and her perfect curves and curly golden hair only added to her extremely good looks. She was almost as attractive as Manon, maybe even as attractive as Fenrys, but there was a wilder glint in her eyes that had been absent in the latter two. By the way she was scanning their faces and keeping a good hold on Manon, Elide could tell she wasn’t drunk, but she sure was enjoying Manon being so. Lysandra stumbled in from the opposite of the room then, a new bottle of wine hanging loosely from her hand.

“Asterin, how drunk is she?!” Lysandra squealed, and then laughed at her own exclamation. Asterin, Elide assumed she was, laughed, her golden eyes crinkling at the edges. Lysandra made her way over to the couch where Aelin and Rowan were otherwise engaged with eachother, plopping herself down in the exact same position she was in before.

“I’d say a little more than tipsy, perhaps almost as drunk as you” Asterin replied, winking at Lysandra and sticking out her tongue as Lysandra let out another loud laugh. Aelin and Rowan just kept making out beside them, both choosing to ignore everyone and everything for the moment. Manon finished her pronouncement of everyone’s name in song and gave a loopy grin, turning towards Asterin and giving her a sloppy kiss. Manon’s red lipstick, usually perfectly lined with a deep blood red, was smeared all over Asterin’s face - and her own. The red cup in her hand swayed with Manon’s every movement. Elide couldn’t help but laugh.

Manon turned towards Elide at the sound. Her loopy smile only growing in size as she swayed over to Elide. But just as she was about to say something, Manon tripped over her feet and fell towards Elide, the contents in the red cup in her hand splashing all over Elide.

“Oh nooooo” Manon sang, giggling to herself and making no move to get off of Elide. Asterin tisked from over by the couch and came over to pick up Manon.

“I’m sorry!” Asterin said, looping Manon’s arm over her shoulder and starting to walk away. “You’re too drunk for your own good” Asterin said in Manon’s ear, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before escorting her away from the couch and towards what Elide assumed was the bathroom. Elide looked down at herself. Her outfit was dark, so she couldn’t really see a stain. But she felt gross and sticky now; she’d have to change.

“Grab a shirt from my room” Aelin said, turning towards Elide. It seemed that Aelin had taken a break from her makeout session, but Rowan hadn’t. He was kissing down Aelin’s neck as she spoke to Elide, his hands roaming in places that made Elide blush. Aelin noticed, letting a grin play on her lips, and only inclined her head towards the direction of the stairs before turning back to Rowan. Elide quickly looked away from them both and made her way towards the stairs.

The small amount of fabric that passed as her outfit for the night was completely drenched in beer. She’d have to scrub herself clean before she went home tomorrow. She didn’t want her uncle getting a single whiff of alcohol off of her. Elide eventually managed to squeeze her way through the crowded hallway and breakthrough the bombardment of drunk bodies to reach the bottom of the stairs. Not many people were on this side of the of the house. It seemed that if the music wasn’t near deafening at some area then no one wanted to be there.

Elide was just about to go up the stairs when she noticed the door to the back balcony was open, a cool breeze leaking through the cracks and lightly kissed her face. She walked over to close the door, thinking that someone had merely looked outside and forgotten to close it afterwards, when she noticed someone looking out over the backyard. The back lights were dim, and Elide only realized who it was standing there through the illumination of their cell-phone across their face.

It was Lorcan Salvaterre.

No, it was a pained Lorcan Salvaterre.

She’d seen that look on people’s faces, her own face, too many times to not notice it. Everytime she’d seen him and talked to him he’d displayed a hard exterior, an unbreakable facade. He displayed that now, but even from ten feet away and behind a door, Elide could see true emotion in his eyes. And she thought that maybe she should talk to him, apologize, perhaps, for her abrupt exit the other day at the library. What was the harm?

As Elide opened the door and stepped out to talk to him, Lorcan turned towards her and swayed. A red cup dangled from his free hand.

So perhaps it wasn’t emotion. Perhaps it was intoxication.

“Helloooo” he slurred, the corners of his lips moving up and down, as if unsure if he wanted to smile or not. Elide debated turning around and walking back inside, but with his attention solely on her now, those obsidian eyes showing just a bit of warmth - even if intoxication was more than likely to blame for it - she decided to stay.

“Hello” she responded, giving him a light smile and walking right up next to him, if only a few feet away. She turned her head to look over Oakwald forest.

The back balcony of Aelin’s estate stood over a steep hill that led to Oakwald forest, a sprawling collection of tall evergreens and dark oaks. It went on for as far as the eye could see, the tips of the farthest trees lining the horizon.

“I know you” he sang, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face. Elide almost laughed. Lorcan Salvaterre just sang to her. “You were at the lib-er-ar-ee.”

This time Elide did laugh. He was more intoxicated than Lysandra at the moment, and that in itself was a feat.

“Yes, yes I was” she said, still giggling. Lorcan loopily smiled at her laugh, but then suddenly turned his attention back to his phone. He looked over his shoulder back at the house and then began typing something on his keyboard.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Elide asked, inclining her head towards his phone. Lorcan didn’t respond, his brow only furrowing further as she spoke.

Elide remembered the look he’d shared with the dark-haired beauty, Essar. Perhaps he was out here avoiding her.

Or waiting for her.

Elide suddenly felt like she was intruding and made to walk away. “If you’re waiting for Essar or someon-” she began, but was abruptly cut-off by Lorcan’s deep laugh. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard, echoing across the porch and filling the eerie quiet. It stuck her to the spot.

“Gods no, I’m not waiting for Essar.” His words only wavered slightly. “That was a sophomore year fling that ended after a few months.”

Elide hated the sigh of relief that she gave. But Lorcan was still looking down at his phone, waiting for someone. There was only one person in the “Cadre” that wasn’t at the party. One person that Lorcan might be waiting for a message from.

“Are you waiting for Maeve?” Elide asked then, her voice soft. Lorcan froze at that. His hand closed around the red cup in his other hand ever-so-slightly, no longer dangling from his fingertips. Lorcan let out a breath and closed his eyes, leaning back to roll out his shoulders.

“No” he said, no louder then a whisper. “No, she’s not coming.” Elide studied his face. He brought his gaze back to the forest and looked over the trees just as she had been doing moments before. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion that was displayed on his face. Hurt, disappointment, anger, sadness. Love. Perhaps it was all of them, perhaps it was none of them.

“I am waiting to see if she calls me though. In case she needs me to do anything. She didn’t say she would but I’m waiting anyway”  He rambled, abruptly ending Elide’s analysis. The slight slur to his words reminded Elide of his current level of intoxication.

“Why?” Elide breathed. Lorcan snorted.

“Why?” He whipped his head towards Elide, whatever contents that resided in the cup sloshing out at the sudden movement. “Why do you think? Everyone else seems to know why, so take a wild guess.” Lorcan downed the rest of the cup and threw it over the edge.

He either owed her something or he loved her Elide thought.

Or maybe it was both.

Lorcan was done looking down at his phone. He was only looking at Elide now, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled. He was obviously upset.

Elide wanted to run away under that hard gaze, but she stood her ground. She asked the question she wished people asked her when she wore that look. “Do you um- Do you want to talk about it?” Elide whispered.

Lorcan started laughing.

“No, no I don’t think so Elide.” Lorcan’s voice cracked when he said her name. Every word that left his mouth was clear, pointed, and sharp. “Not today” he said, and then the slurring was back.

He brought out his phone again, the artificial light illuminating his face once more.

Elide looked him over again, just now noticing the slight bruising around his eye that had been there the whole week, and turned back towards the house. She reached the door, and she felt a tear falling down her cheek.

She saw herself in him so much that she could have sworn that it hurt, hurt more than going through her life everyday and choosing to ignore what her reality was in hoping to find a better fantasy. But she willed herself to take those final steps away from him and hastily wiped away her tears.

She wouldn’t hurt, not tonight.

She closed the door behind her, once more bombarded by the blasting music and sea of bodies. And as Elide climbed the stairs and walked towards Aelin’s bedroom, more tears fell down her cheeks. Chanting to herself over and over that she wasn’t hurting.

She wouldn’t hurt.

Elide made it to Aelin’s bedroom and opened the door. She remembered that look on his face, the hurt in his eyes. She wouldn’t hurt. The music drowned out as she closed the door behind her and slid to the floor. He was just drunk beyond reason, that was why he was acting that way. She wouldn’t hurt. His voice had cracked when he said her name.

She wouldn’t hurt.

More tears fell down her cheeks.

She hurt.

#court-of-abs #sarah j. maas #throne of glass fanfic #maybe tomorrow #elorcan #chapter 6

[ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie]

Fast Firsts and Sloppy Seconds Part 2

This is long overdue!! For @miladyaelin, who stayed up really fuckin’ late with me and really helped drag my ass through this chapter and is a literal angel - thank you!! For @highlady-casandra who was my reason for posting part one, and who I just love so so much! <3 For everyone who wanted it, and waited for it, thank you so much - @rowanismybae, @fictionalcharactersaremyreality, @feysandrowlien21, @throneofstars, @snaps7, @heirofthebookstore, @fortunatelycleverpaper, @sarahjmassbooks and so many more, thank you thank you thank you!!!!! Part 3 will for sure be out by next Tuesday <3 So so sorry this took me so long, hope the wait was worth it!!! Without further ado, happy reading!

Warning: it gets kinda smutty… ;)

Part 1    Part 3

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad!”

Manon barked out a laugh at the thought as she tossed back another shot of whiskey. “The only thing I can’t be is that drunk. No matter how much whiskey you keep handing me, you’re not gonna convince me to dance.”

It had been ten minutes of this. Ten minutes of her glowing golden eyes and flirtatious laugh and her gorgeous, bare legs pressed against his, with her hand trailing patterns on his arm and his desperate growing need to hold her against him and watch her lose herself in his arms.

His blue eyes shined as he watched her, and tossed back his own shot of whiskey. The alcohol burned his throat, cutting through the fog she’d created in his mind.

She leaned into him then. His heart stopped as her hand landed on his leg, and then slowly crept up his inner thigh, closer and closer to the growing bulge in his pants. Her breath was hot as she pressed into him, her lips nearing his ear, and her long white braid gently tickling his arm. “I don’t think you could handle me, princeling,” she purred, her fingers barely grazing him – just enough to cause a choking gasp to burst out of his lungs. His hands clenched around the arms of the chair, digging his nails into his palms as his fingers wrapped tighter around the wood, and his knuckles turned the color of her hair.

Fucking hell.

Fucking. Hell.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t survive it.

Manon suddenly pulled away coolly, a small smirk on her lips as she crossed her legs and leaned back in Aelin’s chair that she had pulled up next to him. According to the carefully built mask she was wearing, she was entirely unaffected. Even after 4 shots of whiskey, she was still very much on her game.

The same, however, could not be said for the boy. She was very much aware of the fact that he was well on his way into her bed, and couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought. At the possibility of actually claiming the impressive bulge under his pants. And as if he could see that in her eyes, in the curve of her lips, in every beat of her heart, he shot up, stammering once again.

“I – uh – I have to – um – I have to go find Aelin.” He swallowed hard and dashed straight to the bar.

He spotted her right away, and immediately knew she would be pissed. He’d seen that look before. Her laugh rang over the sounds of the lively reel the band was playing. It was low and husky as she leaned over the bar, running a finger down the huge bicep of the bartender who looked like he was about ready to shit himself. Dude’s jaw looked like it was on the verge of snapping in half with how tightly it was clenched. His dark green eyes looked like they were trying to look anywhere but the blonde beauty. Dorian felt for the guy. He looked like the picture of aggression with his short white hair and tattoos streaming from his face down his neck and arm – on top of that, he had to be 200 pounds of solid muscle, and Dorian would bet he could bench at least that much, too. His thunderous green eyes were torn between falling directly into Aelin’s trap, and glaring at everyone other man in the bar who was falling with him. Damn, Aelin sure knew how to pick ‘em.

Then again, she had picked Dorian, as well. Even though they hadn’t lasted long.

Dorian and Aelin hooked up at a party the spring of their Freshman year of college. He’d spent the entire fall semester relentlessly hitting on her, but it wasn’t until he’d finally gave up that she gave in. The night of that party, she spent the entire night dancing in his arms and laughing just the way she was now. At the end of the night, he followed her to her dorm, and they made out for a while, before realizing that they were probably better off as friends.

It wasn’t too long after that when she and Chaol finally realized their feelings for each other. Dorian had known all along, but he wasn’t exactly going to say anything when he still wanted a shot. Of course, the couple had nothing in common, but that was okay. They had ended up loving each other anyways.

Until it was too much.

Until Nehemia.

Until Sam.

Dorian shook his head, stepping away from memories that were less than pleasant. Right now, he needed to talk to his best friend. And get more alcohol. Not necessarily in that order. He stepped up next to her at the bar and placed his hand on her back, immediately feeling her spine stiffen under his touch. Her gaze immediately snapped to him, cutting off the sounds of her laughter. “Dorian,” she bit out, glaring at him, “Can I help you?”

The bartender seemed to visibly relax the second those piercing blue-gold eyes moved away from him, though he didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off of her. Dorian offered him a small smile, shaking his head at the reluctant need he saw there. He’d been there.

Hell, he was there right now – with that waitress, and her red lips that he would have done anything to taste – he tightly closed his eyes, desperate to remove the image. Aelin narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her already prevalent chest. “Well?” She raised an eyebrow in expectation, pretending not to notice the fact that Rowan’s eyes had not left her.

Well, if she’s already annoyed … “Can I get a shot of tequila?” Dorian finally opened his eyes, stealing the bartender’s gaze. Rowan nodded and quickly walked away, his fists clenched as he desperately tried to pull himself together.

Meanwhile, if looks could kill, Dorian knew he would be dead. “Spit it out, Havilliard,” she snapped. Her whisper was harsh as she continued. “Not only do you drag your ass over here and distract me from the hot bartender, you also intentionally get rid of him while at the very least he was still staring at me. What’s your issue?”

Dorian cleared his throat and grabbed her Guiness, chugging a quarter of it down before he could finally speak. “I need you to dance with me,” he ground out, staring at the wooden floor. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was probably caught somewhere between laughing at his insanity and strangling him with her bare hands. He forced himself to continue. “The witch is all but dragging me in with her charms, and I’m crashing dick first. And you’ve basically got the barkeep by the balls. Dance with me. Give me at least some semblance of an upper hand. Plus, if you think the guy who’s just about ready to rip off the heads of everyone else staring at you in that tiny tank top isn’t going to be crazy with jealousy, you’re dead wrong.”

Aelin had calmed down at all of this, a small smile growing on her lips. At the thought of Rowan seething with jealousy. Of course this was when he came back with the Tequila, poor guy. Faced with the delicate beauty of one of Aelin’s genuine smiles, Dorian could swear he watched the air leave the bigger man’s lungs.

Dorian tossed back the shot, wincing as it once again burned down his throat. He placed the glass back down next to Aelin’s beer and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as she continued to watch him, also paying close attention to Rowan out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were glued to every single curve of her body, completely in tune to every breath, every movement she made. He didn’t dare look away. Perfect. She couldn’t help but notice the tension in his shoulders from the minute Dorian arrived, and the aggravated glares he kept tossing at the other men in the pub. Dorian was right. Watching her dance would drive him insane. Maybe enough to dance with her.

Her eyes flashed as they met Dorian’s again, the smile on her lips stretching further. “What’re we waiting for,” she purred, stretching out a hand for him to take. She stood up and took a few steps towards him, before turning back. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she tossed over her shoulder at Rowan, not even sparing him a second glance before placing her hand in Dorian’s, her hips swaying as she walked straight to the crowded dance floor.

Every single part of Rowan’s body stood at attention as he tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Aelin dance with the boy who he kept reminding himself wasn’t her boyfriend. Although you could never tell from the way they were dancing. His hands never left her body as she moved against him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. Her eyes were closed as she moved to the music. No – he corrected himself – the music moved through her. She was the music. Every beat, every lull, every note moved through her body – it was her master, and she couldn’t help but follow along.

And for him, she was a drug, and Rowan constantly needed a fix. His eyes narrowed as he watched the boy’s hands slide lower and lower down her back, pulling her closer against him. Every other man in the room wished his hands were there instead.

Across the room, it was clear his sister was just as upset. Manon was glaring daggers at the back of the girl’s head, distractedly making her way around the pub as she only half paid attention to people’s orders.

He shook his head, trying to get the seductress out of his mind, but it was to no avail. He glared at the glass in his hands, tightening his grip as he dried it more aggressively. On one hand, he was eternally aggravated at the lack of a dishwasher in the small, often busy pub. But on the other, at least it was therapeutic.

His eyes slowly slid back up to the dancefloor of their own accord – but he forced them over to his sister instead. Manon angrily shoved a piece of her long white hair behind her ear that had slipped out of her braid. It was strange for him, seeing her again after all of those years. After their mother had … After their mother, she had left to stay with their grandmother. The Matron of their family.

When their aunt Maeve tried for a hostile takeover of their family pub – her sister’s pub – their mom’s pub – Manon was nowhere to be found. Rowan fought on his own, giving his all to make sure the pub would stay in his name, the way she would have wanted it. One by one, his cousins joined him. And now, they ran it on their own – A cadre of 20-something-year-olds trying their best to keep the pub afloat. They made it work though, more or less. And then a few weeks ago, Manon had arrived.

They’d more or less ignored each other since she’d showed up. He gave her the job, she came in every day and did it, and that was that.

It’s not that he blamed her for leaving him when he needed her. But he didn’t exactly forgive her for it, either.  So they just sort of existed. Moving around each other. She’d had her own demons, that much was clear. Their grandmother had never been … kind, to say the least. And Rowan wasn’t blind. He’d seen the stiff movements when she’d first arrived, the bruises she’d tried her best to cover up. But she wasn’t going to tell him about them. And he wasn’t in a place where he was going to ask.

She met his eyes then, raising a single eyebrow, an entirely fed up look on her face. When his expression didn’t change, she merely rolled her eyes and walked away, her gaze returning to the dark-haired man-child, who was boyhandling the woman he wanted more than he’d let himself want anyone in years.

If he was being fair, he’d admit that they were honestly quite suited to each other. The pair moved as one, perfectly following each other’s lead in a silent communication. But he wasn’t exactly feeling fair just then. He wanted her. And it terrified him. Her smile, her body, her laugh. Her bark – which he hoped meant she had just as good of a bite. The way she lit up a room, the way she moved, the way he couldn’t look away – like she was a magnet and he was drawn to her, constantly being pulled closer.

She was a wildfire, burning everything she touched, setting him on fire in the best way. He only hoped he could get her wet enough to soothe it.

Before he knew what he was doing, he popped open a bottle of Jamie, took a swig, and made his way to the dancing pair. His dark green eyes locked with her blue-gold ones over the boy’s shoulder. Her eyes darkened as they trailed over his form, finally taking in his long legs and full 6’4” build as he walked over, a determined look on his face. She didn’t even bother saying anything as she stepped out of Dorian’s grip and reached for the man walking up behind him.

No words were said as she leaned into him, and began to dance. The only contact he dared make, however, was her hand in his. She twirled around and around, moving like she was built for it, like there was nowhere else she was supposed to be – nowhere else she wanted to be. Her head was tossed back and it almost looked like her feet moved of their own accord. Rowan could merely awkwardly sway beside her, mesmerized. He was a terrible dancer anyways, though, always had been. She met his eyes, pulling him further into her spell. And then she smiled – god, that smile.

He had no chance. None.

As his several seconds of courage began to wear off, and his mind raced, he knew he had to go. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled, embarrassed as he dipped his head closer to her ear so she could hear him. “I’m not a dancer, I’m not some pretty American boy, I just,” he turned his head, meeting her eyes again, “I just knew I had to dance with you, but –” And then he was pretty sure his heart stopped.

She leaned into him, her chest pressing against his as she stood up to her toes, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck to pull him down to her. Her hot breath sent his heart sprinting out of his chest as her lips touched his ear, and she spoke.

“Let’s not talk too much.”

She slid the hand that was holding his down her body, and placed it low on her waist, leaving his hand there. Her voice was almost a caress when she spoke again. “Grab on my waist, and follow my lead.”

Her nose trailed against the side of his face as she moved her body against him, reaching up to connect her hands behind his neck, holding him there when he tried to move away. “It’s okay – put your body on me.”

And with that, he somehow lost all control of his body. His leg moved in between hers, and a low moan built in his throat. His other hand reached around her waist, and suddenly, they simply – fit. They were perfect. She was like a missing piece of a puzzle. Their bodies molded together – every curve, every angle, all fitting together exactly as though they were handmade for one another. Slowly, the rest of the world fell away, and nothing else mattered. He moved against her perfectly, as if they’d been dancing together their entire lives. Or as if they’d been crated to.

This girl. This moment. This dance. This was everything. For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about finances, he wasn’t thinking about his mom, he wasn’t thinking about the girl who’d broken his heart. He was only thinking about the one in his arms, and the feeling of her body against his, and that was the only thing he wanted to think about forever.

Aelin wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to like him. She wasn’t supposed to like anyone. He was supposed to be a quick fuck. A distraction.  A point to prove. But instead – instead he was gorgeous, and witty, and damaged. His tattoos. She’d asked him what they meant, and he’d blown them off as some song lyrics, but she knew better. She saw the look in his eyes, the small flinch. And for whatever reason, all she wanted was to get rid of his pain.  

The second she walked off with Dorian, she knew there was no way he wouldn’t follow. She was counting on it. But what she wasn’t counting on were the sudden and weird feelings she kind of hated. Feelings she wasn’t supposed to have. Feelings Europe was specifically about not having. Yet here he was. And here she was. And so she just pulled him closer to her, threw her head back, and let the music cradle them in its hold, pushing them closer together.

A fire raged between them as she moved against him, around him. Breathing got heavier, hearts pounded. They danced chest to chest, barely allowing room for air. Every movement drove her deeper into madness. Into a clawing need that felt like it would never go away. She didn’t know how long they’d been dancing when his hands moved down to her ass, but there was nothing she could do to stop the low moan that left her lips when it happened. Then he tightened his hold, gripping tightly and moving her against him, and she just about lost it.

His body was flush against hers, but she desperately wanted it closer. She could feel the rather impressive proof of his desire pressing against her and she was pretty sure there was nothing she wouldn’t give to feel him inside of her.

Their eyes were locked. The blazing heat simultaneously felt like it was impossibly too much, but also like they could never have enough. She was setting his world on fire, melting the delicately constructed ice, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

At some point, he moved his hands back up her body. She’d almost offered a protest, before they moved to the sensitive spot at the small of her back. One hand climbed up her shirt – fingers spreading, feeling as much of her as he could, committing it to memory – the heat, the softness, what it was doing to every single one of his senses. The other hand moved across her lower back, its fingers lightly dipping into the waistband of her jeans, wanting to go further, but knowing he couldn’t – not there. His thumb stayed above gently stroking the soft skin at her hips.

His eyes never left hers throughout the entire movement. He watched as they rolled back in pleasure. He felt her low moan vibrate against his chest, the heat of her breathy gasps against his neck as she tilted her head back and grinded against him, causing a moan to slip past his lips as well. She was pure sensuality. The picture of sin, looking up at him with every lascivious thought she was having playing across her face. Her bottom lip rolled into her mouth as she lightly licked it, before pulling it between her teeth, and moving her hips in just the right way. A low growl built in his throat as he strained for her.

More. Always needing more.

His eyes were glued to those lips. That tongue. Those teeth. And then he couldn’t see anything.

Their mouths were suddenly moving together, their tongues dancing, lips fitting together perfectly, just like their bodies had. It was as if they’d been sculpted as one, as if they were designed as part of a whole, and then separated, sent off in the world, only to find each other again. To complete each other in a way that should have been impossible. Her hands had moved into his hair, pulling the strands between her fingers, holding him to her, as if she was dying, and his lips were the only thing that could save her.

She tasted like heaven and was hot as hell and if he knew nothing else, he knew that he had to have her – all of her. His breath was ragged, choppy, his heart pounding as she pulled his lip between her teeth, and he groaned again. Whether it was from the painful strain in his pants, or from the impossible need he was feeling, he wasn’t sure. “Bed,” he growled, forcing himself to pull away, and secretly enjoying both the disappointment in her eyes at the loss of contact, and the pure excitement at the word.

“Now,” she choked out, clutching the hand he’d offered, and desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.

While they were dancing, Aelin had been absolutely incapable of doing anything other than drown in Rowan, but by some miracle she had noticed Dorian leading a very smug Manon off to who knew where.

Not that they’d checked into any sort of inn when they arrived. No, because that would have been the smart thing to do. So whether Rowan knew it or not, she had been 100% prepared to insist he take her to bed one way or another.

Neither of them said a word as he pulled her behind the bar, all but sprinting to the stairs, desperate to feel her against him – all barriers gone. Fenrys watched wordlessly as they sped through the kitchen, a smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow at their joined hands, and the noticeable bulge in Rowan’s pants. “Guess I’m closing up, then,” he called after them. No response.

Other thoughts slowly crept into Rowan’s mind as they climbed the old staircase, of carrying another girl to his room up those same steps. He turned back, meeting her bright eyes, and once again he couldn’t think about anything else. His heart almost stopped at the hazy smile on her delicate face. As if her mask had come off. As if she was finally ready to admit that she wanted this too. He walked faster, and they basically jogged to the end of the hallway of the second floor.

The whole pub had just enough rooms for all of them. It was supposed to be the inn portion, but with the 6 of them poor and just out of university, or having skipped it altogether, and spending all of their time working there, it just made more sense for Rowan and his cousins to take up the second floor. He wasn’t sure where Manon was staying – hadn’t exactly bothered to ask – and it wasn’t like he really had any room for her there.

Rowan didn’t even bother to flick on the light as they burst into the small room. He wasted no time pressing her against the door, and pulling her into another heated kiss. They pulled away only to tear off clothes, hands desperately reached for the other – pulling, yearning, needing, with seemingly no intention of letting go. Aelin couldn’t help the gasp that left her lips as he saw him standing before her in all of his glory. Tan skin peppered with scars of all shapes and sizes covered perfectly sculpted muscles – legs that looked like they were carved from solid rock, his impressive length that she knew was going to fill her in an absolutely delicious way, row after row of well-defined abs, strong arms that she was desperate to have wrapped around her. And then then they were – but not for long.

Rowan easily picked her up, then lightly tossed her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing, not wasting any time. There was a primal need in him to see her there, splayed across his bed, on the same sheets he’d slept on last night, surrounded by his scent. Part of him was ashamed at every carnal thought roaring through his head – at the ocean of need crashing into him over the sight of her there.

Long blonde hair stretched behind her as she climbed up on her elbows. His eyes darkened with desire as they raked over her lithe, toned body. “Perfect,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to run his fingers up an impossibly smooth thigh. “Absolutely perfect.” She’d spent the day powering through all kinds of hell, and it just wasn’t fair. No person should look this completely flawless. Yet there she was. An angel.

He leaned over her slightly, forcing himself to take his time if it killed him. There was something in his eyes that woke the deepest part of her – the part she let no one else see. And it terrified her.

Rowan placed a knee between her legs and stretched over her, lowering a soft kiss on her chest, right above her breasts. A shiver ran down her spine at the blessed contact. One hand pressed into the mattress above her head, holding his weight. The other hand climbed up her legs like a vine, fingertips trailing up her body, grazing past her thigh, caressing her wide hips, and not paying nearly enough attention to her breasts, before settling into her hair.

He moved with such gentleness, such care, that she was almost sure her heart was going to burst. Soft kisses fell across her face, showering her with an almost easy affection. She hadn’t signed up for this. This softness, these feelings, these emotions. She didn’t want them. The more you cared about someone, the easier it was for them to hurt you and she couldn’t – wouldn’t – be hurt again, not if she had anything to – all thought was cut off as his lips finally met hers. She let her body fall back against the mattress, wrapping her arms around him. A low groan built in the back of his throat as her back arched, hard nipples moving against his solid chest, and her pelvis rubbing directly against his painfully hard dick.

Something broke inside of him at the contact – all attempts at softness flew out of him as pure need took over. The hand in her hair immediately moved down her body. A gasp burst out of her lips as two fingers entered her, and his thumb pressing directly against the bundle of nerves at the interest. The gasp turned into a breathy moan, as his fingers moved in and out of her, curving forward inside of her.

Her body wasn’t hers anymore. It was his, and she didn’t think she wanted it back. His lips moved to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth nipped, and grazed at the spot, sucking on the sensitive skin there, and she could almost swear she saw stars. In that moment, he could have asked her for anything, and she would have said yes.

That night, hours passed they explored each other’s bodies, holding, needing, thrusting.

Gasps, sighs, moans echoed through the room as skin pressed against skin, and finally, for the first time in a long time, they both almost felt like they were home.

#ff&ss #i guess i'm writing now #oh look it's me #tog fics #tog aus #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #tog au #qos #queen of shadows #hof #heir of fire #fanfic #fenrys #the cadre

[fae-fucker]

Throne of Glass: Chapter 47-49

Chapter 47 

The chapter opens with Kaltain, who’s waiting for the final duels to start.

It was strange to think of this woman as an assassin, but seeing her now, all of her oddities and faults made sense.

And what in-universe flaws and oddities are those? Go on, I’ll wait. Actually, I won’t, because I want this hell to end. Kaltain doesn’t really know Sardines at all, and they dislike each other because they want the same man (but for different reasons). 

This book is just so feminist!

Kaltain poisons the wine that Sardines is supposed to drink and we’re back with Sardines.

Kaltain stood behind Perrington, wearing a beautiful red cloak lined with white fur. Their eyes met, and Celaena wondered why the woman smiled at her.

FEMINISM. 

Everyone stands around and the entire chapter is just about people standing around, waiting for the duels to start. Riveting. I guess this is supposed to build tension for the climax? Ain’t workin’ too well.

For a heartbeat, she saw the king with stark clarity. He was just a man—a man with too much power. And in that one heartbeat, she didn’t fear him. I will not be afraid, she vowed, wrapping the familiar words around her heart.

Yeah those familiar words that she supposedly repeats to herself ... She’d done it what, once? Twice? 

Doesn’t mean shit.

The king babbles on about some rules and how they’re not allowed o kill each other, for some reason. Cain and Renault go first.

Across the ring, Grave smiled at her as he wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. She bit down on her grimace at the sight of his teeth. Of course, she’d have to duel the grotesque one. At least Renault had been clean looking.

W-what? What does ... What does that have to do with anything? What the hell?

Sardines has a dirt-fetish confirmed.

Chaol offers her his sword. It’s very symbolic. 

She blinked at the blade, and slowly raised her face to look at him. She found the rolling earthen hills of the north in his eyes. It was a sense of loyalty to his country that went beyond the man seated at the table. Far inside of her, she found a golden chain that bound them together. 

Uh. Sure. 

Jesus Christ, what? What exactly made them friends, aside from the physical attraction? Most of the time they were bickering at each other, and not in a cutesy charming way.

And we gotta make sure the metaphorical chain is gold, because how else would you signify importance if not through arbitrary symbols of wealth?

And obviously, since Chaol and Sardines are both dumbasses and Smaas doesn’t research for shit, it’s not like this sword was probably custom-made and Sardines would have to get used to its size and balance before she could wield it properly, if she could do it at all. But Sardines is a master of every weapon, and all swords, even ornamental ones, are the same, right?

But despite this wanking over how super deep and amazing their friendship is, Mehemia waltzes up to Sardines too and offers her a SUPER SYMBOLIC STAFF.

And ... Just read this:

Nehemia leaned in to whisper in Celaena’s ear. “Let it be with an Eyllwe weapon that you take them down.” Her voice hitched. “Let wood from the forests of Eyllwe defeat steel from Adarlan. Let the King’s Champion be someone who understands how the innocents suffer.”

This is so dumb. Is this supposedly the start of Sardines’s journey to becoming a good person? Color me unimpressed.

She knew what the princess was asking of her. As the King’s Champion, she might find ways to save countless lives—ways to undermine the king’s authority.

N-no. Smaas. Honey. This isn’t how that works. Sardines isn’t nearly smart enough to do politics, and she’s already expressed disgust for people who are.

How else would she undermine the king’s authority? Being his champion means to fight for him. If she doesn’t do that, he’ll just replace her. She doesn’t actually have any power. She’s just a meat shield, a soldier. 

This is all so fucking dumb. 

“No matter what happens,” she said quietly, “I want to thank you.” Chaol tilted his head to the side. “For what?” Her eyes stung, but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. “For making my freedom mean something.”

I sure wish it meant something to the reader, too, because I have no idea what the fuck you’re supposed to be saying here.

Anyway, Cain beats Renault and it’s time for Sardines and Grave to fight. 

Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said.

So is Christianity a thing in this universe? Or does the concept of hell just exist on its own?

Chapter 48

Sardines beats Grave super easily. As if we expected anything else. 

“How long did that take?” she asked. She found Nehemia beaming at her, and Celaena lifted her staff a little in salute.

“Two minutes.”

She grinned at the captain. She was hardly winded.

[rocking back and forth] The concept of a Mary Sue is inherently misogynistic. The concept of a Mary Sue is inherently misogynistic.  The concept of a Mary Sue is ...

Anyway, Sardines chugs the posioned wine. Some assassin she is for not realizing it’s poison, but whatever. OH BUT IT’S THE POISON SHE COULDN’T IDENTIFY THAT TIME THEY WERE DOING A TEST ON PISONS!!! you screech.

Yeah. Which is even worse. You’d think she’d realize this was a weakness of hers and find out how to deal with it and learn to identify it.

“Out of good faith, and honor to the Great Goddess,” Kaltain said in a dramatic voice. Celaena wanted to punch her. 

Idk what the fuck Kaltain did wrong since she was probably ordered to do this. Ah yes, her mistake was being an ambitious woman who wanted to use the protag’s fake love interest to further her own (very unclear) goals, so her crime is being female and having dreams of rising above her station. What a bitch.

FEMINISM.

“Ready yourselves,” the king ordered. “And begin on my mark.”

Celaena looked to Chaol. Wasn’t she to be allowed a moment to rest?

Lmao the narration just said you were barely winded. Suck it up, princess.

Sardines is getting all dizzy and shit and starts feeling ill. 

Why were things slowing down?

She attacked—faster and faster, stronger and stronger.

I’m getting all kindsa whiplash from this narration.

He knocked aside her blow as if it was nothing, and she retreated while he rose. And that’s when she heard the laugh—soft, feminine, and vicious. Kaltain.

SOFT. FEMININE. VICIOUS. ALL BAD THINGS (unless they’re applied to Sardines when observed through male eyes). 

WHAT A!!! SASSSY!!! STRONK!!! FEMINISTT!!!! CREATURE!!!!!

SMAAS HAS WON FEMINISM!!!

*deep breath*

Cain beats the ever-loving crap out of her and I’m here like a fucking child during Christmas Eve. This is some good shit. This is all I’ve ever wished for.

Doriass is watching this unfold and is super sad. Chaol is watching this unfold and is super sad. 

Cain is taunting Sardines about her dead parents. Her dead royal parents. Ya know. Cuz she’s a princess. But Smaas isn’t merciful enough to drop the charade yet, so Cain doesn’t actually say that.

Cain smashes her head against a wall (yay!) and she start tripping the fuck out.

It was a man, his skin pale and rotting. His eyes burned red, and he pointed at her in a broken, stiff way. His teeth were all sharp and so long they barely fit into his mouth.

FORESHADOWING.

Cain had said things he couldn’t possibly know—he’d seen it in her eyes. And if he knew about her past . . . She whimpered, hating herself for it, and for the tears that began sliding down her face, across the bridge of her nose and onto the floor. It was all over.

So the only reason we were in Chaol’s POV when Cain was taunting her is so that we don’t see Sardines’s flashbacks to her childhood and find out that she’s a princess before we’re “ready”.

Cheap. You’re not that good, Smaas.

Also, I’m incredibly happy over seeing Sardines all beaten and miserable. 

NOT A GOOD THING FOR A PROTAG THAT WE’RE SUPPOSED TO SYMPATHIZE WITH.

Cain smashes her head a second time and she sees a bunch of creepy monsters and it’s all very mysterious. Or would be, if I didn’t know where this was all going and actually cared. 

Cain rips off the Eye of Elena (the amulet that protected her from evil) and ...

They came for her.

Nah.

Chapter 49

We’re back with Dorian, because Smaas loves breaking up the action with pointless POV switches, and he realizes that Sardines has given up and is waiting for Cain to kill her! :’’’((( He doesn’t really ... do anything about it but whatever.

We’re back with Sardines. She’s really fucked up. 

Light and darkness. Life and death. Where do I fit in?

I dunno darlin’ but I’d recommend death in your particular case.

She’d find a way—she could find a way to survive. I will not be afraid. She’d whispered that every morning in Endovier; but what good were those words now?

This must be really riveting for fans of the book. Seeing your intrepid, sassy feminist creature for a heroine being so determined and strong! 

I’m just here hoping reality will somehow break and put me in a world where the book ends with her dying and Smaas going “y’all got trolled” in the epilogue.

But when things look most dire:

But then something extraordinary happened. Doors, doors, doors all burst open. Doors of wood, doors of iron, doors of air and magic. And from another world, Elena swept down, cloaked in golden light. The ancient queen’s hair glittered like a shooting star as she plummeted into Erilea.

Literal. Deus. Ex. Machina. Swoops down from the sky. To save her ass.

“I cannot protect you,” whispered the queen, her skin glowing. Her face was different, too—sharper, more beautiful. Her Fae heritage. “I cannot give you my strength.” She traced her fingers across Celaena’s brow. “But I can remove this poison from your body.”

But you just. Protected her? This is bullshit. And she keeps protecting Sardines, by battling Cain and the evil monsters that threaten Sardines.

(Also, I really love the super dumb and useless “Her Fae heritage” here. Like. Ok. What’s the point of this? Who cares about her heritage? Sardines is dying. Priorities? No? You just love your stupid Fae so goddamn much that you gotta remind us that the Fae Queen is indeed a Fae?)

Elena removes the poison from Sardines’s body and casts a debuff spell on Cain to impose vulnerability to melee attacks from bullshit assassins.

You think I’m trying to be funny, but this literally reads like Smaas played fucking Dragon Age and thought rewriting a cutscene would be a good idea. 

“Stand,” Elena whispered again, and was gone. The world appeared.

Cain was close, not a trace of shadow around him. Celaena lifted the jagged remnant of the staff in her hand. Her gaze cleared.

And so, struggling and shaking, Celaena stood.

How inspiring.

I don’t care.

I hope y’all enjoyed Sardines getting the snot beaten out of her while it lasted. Time to get back to the usual wank.

#eff reads: throne of glass #book rants