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wordsafterhours · 2 months

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Songs About You - Chapter 16

Author's Note: Hello all! Here is a short chapter, angsty and nothing but a filler. Next chapter, will actually be content to move the story along and give more of an expanded back story on Gav and Aed. We'll also see more quality time between our two favorite people :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

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Yulemas had come and gone, as had all the decorations, sans the tree in her bedroom. Aelin found herself staring at it often, replaying the entirety of Yulemas over in her head on a continual loop. As promised, Fleetfoot’s ornament hung next to the heart of fire, its glaze making it gleam against the artificial light of the tree. She had tried to pack the tree away, several times, but couldn’t bare the idea of wrapping any of it up after not having seen it for so long.

The tips of her fingers glided over the dog miniature, grooves of whittled wood barely discernable against the pad. It astounded her that such large hands could have crafted something so detailed and small. It was beautiful and perfect and the most thoughtful gift she’d had in some time. The corners of her mouth tugged up—the ghost of a sentimental smile. “I’ll be back to admire you later,” she told the object, ignoring it was inanimate and didn’t care if she came or went.

It was just her today at the store, which required her to be punctual for the first time in weeks. Aelin had grown spoiled by Evangeline opening the store and was begrudging the fact that she couldn’t drink a cup of coffee on the back porch and read a chapter in her book before work. Well, she could have, but it would have required sacrificing sleep, and that wasn’t a preferable option.

Mindlessly, she showered, then slipped into a dark-green, oversized sweater, and off-white corduroy pants. She braided her hair and wove the tails into a bun at the base of her skull using pearl tipped pins to hold it the arrangement in place. A few pieces of hair were tugged out to frame her face. Two quick swipes of mascara and Aelin deemed herself presentable enough to be out the door.

A light covering of frost dusted the windshield but not enough that it would delay her too long. Turning the vehicle on, she dug in the floorboards for the ice scraper amongst discarded receipts and croissant wrappers, before clearing the windshield. The drive into town was uneventful but beautiful, the Staghorns, lower valley, and Oakwald forest was still quite covered in snow. Terrasen was never more picturesque than in its winter glory.

By the gods, there was a spot open right in front of the shop and Aelin pulled her vehicle into it, cutting the engine with a little smile. Usually, she parked at Lysandra’s or down the block, preferring not to have to deal with the main street traffic. The day wasn’t going to warm up much and the idea of walking after dark sounded unappealing.

Like the Christmas tree still taking up residence in her room, twinkling lights and green garlands adorned the windows of Present Tense, which made her smile brightly every time she saw them. It wasn’t practical to leave them up much longer but with everything lately, the small joy was a novelty not worn yet. The smell of aged paper, leather, and spices reached her nose as Aelin pushed through the front door, flipping lights on as she went through the store.

Mindlessly, she powered on the computer, put coffee to brew, and started a fire in the fireplace. The store would open soon and needed to be as inviting as possible in hopes of combating the post-holiday lull that it was in. It happened every year but there was always a small sliver of hope on her part that it wouldn’t. How could people not appreciate the written word every day of the year?

Minutes faded into hours, and it was lunchtime, with not a single customer having come through the doors. Inventory, payroll, and needed ordering had been done. Bookcases dusted, wood oiled; Aelin had even made sure her under the desk spider was still happy and thriving. Staring at the door waiting for someone to come in was quite literally inducing a headache. Popping two pain pills, she loosed a resigned sigh, plopping down in a worn, plush chair adjacent to the crackling fire. Others may not be reading today but the same would not be said for her.

She was warm, almost unpleasantly, and a small neck twinge was beginning to register on the outermost fragments of her consciousness—It wasn’t enough to fully rouse her though and she burrowed back against the soft velvet. A featherlight touch traced the shell of her ear, accompanied by a warm, low chuckle. Reluctantly, Aelin cracked a lid, her turquoise and gold eye searching for the disruptor.

“There she is,” he murmured with a small smile.

“Hi,” she replied sleepily, sitting up and stretching her sleep-addled body. Involuntarily, she winced, the twinge in her neck more serious than it had felt half asleep.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking two quick steps in her direction.

“Nothing, just stretched wrong is all.”

One silver brow raised, his face tight as his green eyes roved over her, trying to a discern the depth of her candor. Whatever he saw had him standing between her legs in an instant, peering down at her with perfected skepticism. “Turn around.”

“Rowan, I said I was fine.” The last thing she needed was his hands on her, blurring the line she was trying so hard to keep straight. Narrow. Uncrossed. Their track record was quite poor, but it was a new year for new beginnings, with eleven months to go.

“You can’t even straighten your neck right. Your right eye keeps squinting when you move and you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.” Could nothing be secret from him? Aelin had been commended on her poker face, it was one of her greatest assets, and now when it was needed most, it was painfully absent.

“I can live with a stiff neck, Ro,” she argued, leaning back against the chair and crossing her arms to strengthen her declination.

“Gods, you’re a literal pain in my ass,” he snarked.

“I’m not trying to be.”

Lies. Liar. Difficult was exactly the strategy Aelin was playing. If he was mad, then he wouldn’t want to help her and on the straight and narrow she could continue.

“It’s a good thing I’m bigger than you, though.” His lilt was teasing, light, and his grin, as roguish as she’d ever seen it. Only half a word had made it passed her pink lips before being cut off by a loud squeal as dragged her from the chair and onto the plush rug beneath their feet.

“Now, you can either keep lying flat of your back, pouting, or you can sit in front of the fire and let me work out the knot. I vote the latter but again, your choice.”

She hadn’t seen him since their Yulemas festivities, and it suddenly dawned on her how much his presence had been missed. Despite the bothersome stiff neck and having been dragged from the chair like a child, her heart felt light in a way that couldn’t quite be placed. The corners of her mouth turning up into a genuine smile.

“I’m going to hurt you if your antics messed up my hair.” It was an empty threat and the only response given to let him know he’d won.

“Vain, as always,” he noted with a small shake of his head. Deftly, he maneuvered his large form to the ground, taking up residence behind her. It was fortunate that she was facing forward, if only to avoid his piercing gaze as her cheeks heated at the intimacy of their set up. An urge to lean back against him was ferociously clawing its way up her throat as each second ticked by.

If only to redirect her own thoughts, Aelin moved one leg up and rested her chin atop her knee, idly playing with the soft carpet beneath her right hand. If Rowan didn’t make a move soon, the anticipation of it was going to result in her saying something stupid about how this whole thing was his idea.

The touch of his hand was contradiction personified as he splayed it across her right shoulder, thumb digging in softly and firm all at once, working it into the muscle that paralleled her spine. The calloused fingers moved with awareness of her that they should not have possessed—his touch akin to that of a lover’s who had spent long hours tracing every square inch of fair skin until committed to memory.

Notes of tangy iron filled her mouth, an unintended consequence of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of her lip; a pitiful attempt at stifling how marvelous it all felt. Her head tipped sidewise, temple resting against her leg now, granting Rowan better access to the column of her neck. Strong fingers pressed beneath the hollow of her ear, steadfastly following muscle tract to just above her collar bone. Featherlight, he grazed the length of delicate bone before returning to his starting point, again dragging firmly down in the same pattern. Heat sept in, washing away tension like ocean tides did sand.

A true glutton for punishment, Aelin tipped her head in the opposite direction, a silent signal for the male at her back to direct his focus elsewhere. With expert care, he massaged the muscles, working out the knots in much the same manner as before. An errant, small moan slipped out when Rowan’s fingers lazily dipped too far past her collar bone, barely missing the top of her breast. So much for that line she’d been towing.

If he pushed it, there was no way her heart or body could say no, even with her head a screaming cacophony of objecting reasons. The ache low in her core and between her thighs had her shifting uncomfortably, trying to soothe even a fraction of it. The green sweater, a good idea this morning, was surely becoming a nuisance against her flushed skin. Crackling wood wasn’t enough to drown out the low, shaky breaths at her back, and if that wasn’t indication enough of his shaken façade, both hands were on her back, lower—a safe layer of knit separating them.

She hissed when he hit a particularly tender spot in the small above her back and it seemed to be the reprieve they both needed. The anxiety dissipated and breaths came easier. Moving forward, they could not afford to continue to end up in these situations. No one ever wanted to be the other girl, especially her, even if Lyria had made her feel less a person on multiple occasions.

“I’ve got to sit down. I’m too old to keep this position,” Rowan admitted, sounding a little embarrassed at his admission. Soon, either side of her hips were cradled by legs as he stretched out.

Like this was going to fucking help anything. “Ro.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Aelin.”

If she stayed put, did this make a her duplicitous in whatever ideology was governing him in to believing that this didn’t mean anything? Or should offense be what she should feel because perhaps none of it meant anything. It was easier to live with being a liar than being used by him.

Throwing her morals, standards, and protests to the wind, Aelin leaned fully back into him.

As he had done her shoulders and back, his muscular hands began to massage her arms. The air became oppressive again, not with unspent sexual tension, but with the acute awareness that this situation was surpassing unbefitting friend behavior. Several times, her mouth opened and then promptly closed as she choked down unbidden questions.

“Something you want to say?” he enquired quietly.

“Why?” Succinct. Falsely unaware. Confident.

“I can feel you get tense and relax and tense and relax. It’s obvious something is going through that head of yours.” His hand stilled except his thumb, which was drawing smooth circles against the underside of her wrist.

“A thought for a thought?” The entirety of his frame stiffened, and a cool draft crept up her spine as he leaned back, an invisible but tangible wall falling into place. For as open as he seemed to be, or intrusive, the minute things were not on his terms, Rowan became impenetrable as opalescent stone buildings of downtown Orynth.

Frustrated, Aelin started to scoot forward but halted when a relinquishing sigh guttered out behind her. White teeth pressed into her bottom lip, a poor attempt to stave off a satisfied, triumphant smirk. He gingerly grabbed her right hand, tugging her back against him. The tension was still there but had lessened a minutia.

His hand dwarfed hers but in the best way. The worn planes and callouses of his hand lit by the fire glow were the only thing her turquoise eyes seemed to be able to focus on. Everything about this man drew her in, like a greedy moth to a flame. Silence hung between them, her waiting patiently for what Rowan would say.

Or wouldn’t.

It could have been five minutes or thirty but soon what little patience lived in her body was dissipating. Expectantly, she turned to look up at him, eyes roving over his tight jaw and dark eyes. Whatever thoughts were running through his mind, she didn’t know but he looked quite truly a man at war with himself. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

His silver lashes were full, almost touching his cheeks as his gaze flicked down to her, briefly. “I’ve never had someone like you in my life, and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

The answer was paltry at best. It felt as though he was saying anything but what truly occupying his thoughts. His refusal to look at her when it wasn’t normally an issue spoke more than he probably realized. A veiled half-truth wasn’t what she had intended when she asked him a thought for a thought.

Aelin wanted to call him on his bullshit, to demand the same raw honesty he always demanded of her—that she always gave because anything less was unacceptable.

But, again, she stayed silent, merely shifting in his lap to rest her ear against his chest, taking in the steady thump of his heart as it slowed. When it returned to what seemed like a normal rate, her own half-truth tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad to call you my friend, too.”

Friend. Friend tasted acrid and wrong on her tongue despite the sentiment being mostly candid. Friend was too small, too generic of a word for what was living within her chest. Amongst the pages of some forgotten book, she had read once that liked called to like.

And that they were. Two halves of the same soul, cleaved apart long ago by the gods, left to search for another across time and space. It was the only plausible reason she could muster as to why he felt like home. In the very marrow of her bones, he had entombed himself. In any world, any life, Aelin would know him.

While she could not have him, not as she wanted in this reality, she would try her damnedest anyways. It didn’t matter what capacity he could afford her, Aelin would take it, hoarding their moments like a dragon with stolen crown jewels.

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Tag List:

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

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #songs about you #throne of glass fic #aelin x rowan #slow burn #wordsafterhours #throne of glass au #short update #sorry I've forgotten how to write #I've also lost my story notes somewhere sos

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fan-mans · 1 year

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You have more about the French man? What else do you have?

Yes yes yes!! I'm gonna use this as an opportunity to talk about Joe's Boxing career and how he became good friends with Gabby Jay so buckle in folks!

So, back in my first headcanon post, I mentioned Joe was kicked out of school at 13 then dropped out in favor of getting a job to help support his family after his mother lost her job. His sister did the same thing a few years earlier- the whole thing was a few years coming but it just happened to fall apart right then. This also caused them to lose their apartment and all their belongings, leaving them homeless for months.

Joe did a ton of job searching before landing on the cafe. Everywhere else asked for an id to prove he was old enough to work. The cafe was running thin on staff so they were basically like ‘sure kid, come in tomorrow morning at 4 and well start training you’.

Gabby Jay had worked at said cafe for a long, long time as a waitress. He was very insecure about his job due to the manager frequently threatening to fire him and being generally abusive. So, when this kid showed up and said ‘alright, im here to work’, Gabby was like:

Yeah, he wasn’t too pleased with this kid running around. Yet, throughout the day, Gabby noticed him struggling to keep track of orders and, despite his reservations, helped Joe out. The manager, not noticing Joe had been helped all day, hired him.

Gabby wasn’t happy, but accepted he made his bed and now had to lie in it. He avoided Joe as much as possible. Until one day he fucked up Big Time, letting loose some not-so legal activities the cafe was doing. Gabby would’ve lost his job if not for Joe running off with the evidence, the cops chasing after him. Gabby was in awe, concerned for his safety far more than the state of his job. When Joe came back the next day, evidence in hand, they burned it to ashes together.

When Gabby asked why he risked arrest to save his ass, Joe replied “You help me get a job, I help you keep yours.”

From there, a friendship bloomed. Gabby grew to like Joe a lot and they hung out together as much as possible. When he found out Joe was really 13 and his family was homeless, Gabby did everything he could to help. He couldn’t give them any money, but he had a shower, a washer and dryer, food, and shelter for them during bad weather. They were able to get a roof over their heads for the winter and their apartment back by the time Joe turned 14.

One day, a rowdy customer comes in and starts harassing Gabby. He’s used to such treatment as a waitress but when the customer started getting violent, Gabby got scared. He couldn’t call the police and the manager wasn’t even around to do anything so he was frozen, terrified of what was to come. Joe, seeing his friend in danger, and being 14, stepped in between them.

The resulting fight was long, bloody, and extremely entertaining. To Gabby’s horror and disgust, no one stepped in, the customers and staff screaming like wild animals. In the end the customer fell and Joe stood over him, battered yet victorious. Gabby shook off his shock and brought Joe inside to clean him up and send him home.

The whole scene caught the eye of a coach working in the Junior Women’s boxing league of France.She followed them and offered Joe a chance at a boxing career right then and there. Once Joe heard the money he could make doing it, he accepted.

Joe's training started immediately and though he still worked for the cafe, he spent most of his time training. Gabby was left lonely but also with a new spark. Seeing Joe, a scrawny, weak, 14 year old fight a man twice his height and weight and win was inspiring. It reminded Gabby of his childhood, when he himself wanted to become an athlete. He was told he was too weak by his family and left his dreams, but seeing Joe fight ignited that spark once more- if Joe could do it, couldn’t he? Watching Joe struggle through, but win his first match pushed that spark even further within Gabby and he began setting aside money to become a boxer himself.

Joe's coach noticed something was wrong during their time together. Joe was weak, struggled to gain muscle like the other girls and so much more. She ordered a round of health tests and what Joe's diagnosed with about a year later is something quite serious: a very low testosterone level. His mother and sister get tested and they too have a similar diagnosis, though far less severe than Joe's case. His coach gets him on t immediately, despite protests from other coaches and boxers. The other boxers shunned both her and Joe over this but Joe's coach insisted he shouldn't care.

Things seem normal for him for a little bit until he starts noticing changes. His hair is thicker and some of it started growing on his chin. His hands are blocky, he's more hungry but not keeping on the weight, hes more muscular too. And, most of all, his voice is deeper! He's louder and he starts to feel is buzz in his chest when he speaks and he LOVES it. For the first time in many years, Joe looks at himself in the mirror and likes who's staring back.

His boxing gets easier and far better. Joe climbs his way up the ranks fast, managing the top of the league. Gabby can’t find a coach- everyone saying he's too old to get a career. Joe, in turn, starts teaching him, refusing to deny his friend the joy of boxing. Gabby was rough at first but he found his footing and won his first match by a good margin. For 2 years, everything was great.

The people around him didn't feel the same way. Many don't like his hairy arms and thicker muscles, his darker hair and infinite appetite. People especially don't like how deep his voice is-including his doctor prescribing his t. This girl's voice is deeper that his own! Surely we must stop giving her t at once! Joe was heartbroken and his coach and family were furious! But they couldn't do anything as the board steps in and enforces him to go off t, citing it as doping. Joe becomes sick and depressed at the loss as well.

Gabby had taken notice of all the changes, especially how much Joe had blossomed. Joe was so much happier then and it hurt to see his friend so sick and in pain. He was happy, and maybe a little bit jealous, that Joe got to have that happen to him and wondered if he too could go on T- he had always dreamed of a luxurious mustache.

Despite it all, Joe kept his training up and kept his title. Gabby never gets as far as Joe, but his record stays strong. But Joe just couldn’t keep all his changes out of his head. Sure he was happy because he was healthier, but there was something else. Something more that he never even thought he could need- something he never thought he could be. When he talks to Gabby about his feelings, Gabby says that imagining yourself with facial hair or wanting a deeper voice and big muscles is completely normal for women! Happens all the time it’s no big deal! But Joe can’t get it out of his head that something IS different about him and maybe even Gabby too!

He stuffs his feelings down but one day Joe can’t take it and breaks down to his mother about everything. He even goes so far as to say he wants to be a man. After he clams down, his mother and sister talk to him and Gabby, inform them that dreaming of being a man is not normal, and promptly get Joe to a therapist. He’s told that he’s transgender. Joe relays this info to Gabby and they sit together in awkward silence. After they calm down and process what they’d been told, the two men go to their families and relay the news.

Joe’s mother is hesitant at first, but allows him to make his own choices. She knows how happy being on t made her baby and she would give her very life to see him that happy again. Joe, his mother and his sister all talk for a very long time and his mother and sister promise to support him through whatever he wants to pursue. His sister helps him pick out new clothes, his mother helps him pick out a new name, and the three grow closer than ever. Joe, though still feeling awful and closeted in public, is as happy as can be when at home.

Gabby does not get so lucky. He’s rejected by all but one family member and disowned. His great aunt, one Gabrielle Eugénie Jay, gives him money and respects him for who he is. The time Gabby is given with the aunt he was named after was short, but still wonderful. He vows to keep her name in her honor and even take on her surname to reject the family who betrayed him. When he returns to Paris with the news of his disowning, Joe’s family doesn’t hesitate to take him in as their own.

Gabby also ‘snaps’ around this time too. The manager of the cafe pushes him past his limits, refusing to respect him even with his boxing career. Gabby rolls up his sleeves an wallops him right in the middle of the store. He is arrested with a smile on his face.

Joe’s last year in the junior women's league is hard, but he retires with his title never taken from him. At 19 he gets back on t, gets top surgery and is happier than he’s ever been. Gabby exits his own league, using the money his aunt left him and his savings to transition. The process is quite messy for both of them, especially the legal bureaucracy, but they get everything they need and enter the men’s league together.

Joe dominates there like he did the junior league. Now healthier than ever, he wipes the floor with his opponents and makes his way to the top in only a few years. Gabby lacks the same success, but is more than happy to be an average boxer, now known around France by his mustache alone. Joe’s success catches yet another eye, this time of the wvba. When they approach, he accepts their offer on one condition: Gabby gets to try too. Both get in with no hassle at all.

Though they stood strong in normal boxing leagues, the wvba is no normal league. Despite their skill, they’re weaker than most of the other crazy assholes they face in the ring. For the most part though, they’re accepted and even respected among their respective groups. Gabby and Joe’s time in the same branch is short but sweet, with Gabby being moved to seattle to better face boxers of his own caliber. Despite the pain it causes them they adore boxing to no end and wouldn’t change a thing about their careers or their friendship.

#glass joe #gabby jay #punch out wii #super punch out #punch out #headcanons #ask game #god this is so long but I put a lot of love into it so nyeh #I lost the original but I think this version is a bit more concise and overall better #the fart #but yeah sorry for such a long reply but I've been having that specific story milling about in my head forever #I had to get it out #my hcs

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