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lucien-calore · 1 year

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Welcome to my blog!! My name is amanda (but you can call me vinn) and my pronouns are she/her. I'm a huge extrovert, so i love talking to people!!

My fandoms:

Red Queen Series by Victoria Aveyard

Throne of Glass series by Nehemia Ytger

A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Lucien Vanserra

Harry Potter series by Emma Watson

The Grishaverse by Leigh Bardugo

The Folk of the Air series by Holly Black

The Riordanverse in general

Top Gun: Maverick

Peaky Blinders

My Favorite Characters

Red Queen

Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII

Kilorn Warren

Lucas Samos

Evangeline Samos

Elane Haven

Iris Cygnet

Throne of Glass:

Chaol Westfall

Dorian Havilliard

Manon Blackbeak

Elide Lochan

Yrene Towers

Nesryn Faliq

Lorcan Salvaterre

Aedion Ashryver

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Lucien Vanserra

Azriel

Elain Archeron

Gwynneth Berdara

Nesta Archeron

Eris Vanserra

Helion

Lady of Autumn

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Theodore Nott

Blaise Zabini

Luna Lovegood

Ginny Weasley

Narcissa Malfoy

James Potter

Regulus Black

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Dorcas Meadowes

Marlene McKinnon

The Grishaverse:

Kaz Brekker

Inej Ghafa

Jesper Fahey

Wylan Van Eck

Nina Zenik

Matthias Helvar

Zoya Nazyalensky

Nikolai Lantsov

Genya Safin

David Kostyk

Alina Starkov

Tolya Yul-Bataar

Tamar Kir-Bataar

The Riordanverse

Jason Grace

Percy Jackson

Piper McLean

Nico Di Angelo

Will Solace

The Folk of The Air

The Ghost

Cardan Greenbriar

Jude Duarte

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Peaky Blinders

Esme Shelby-Lee

John Shelby-Lee

Finn Shelby

Thomas "Tommy" Shelby

Ada Thorne née Shelby

Elizabeth "Polly" Gray née Shelby

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Shelby née Stark

Arthur Shelby

Gina Gray née Nelson

My Favorite Ships:

Red Queen

Calorn (Cal x Kilorn)

Marecas (Mare x Lucas)

Evane (Elane x Evangeline)

Evare (Evangeline x Mare)

Sharley (Shade x Farley)

Throne of Glass

Chaorian (Chaol x Dorian)

Malide (Manon x Elide)

Nesrene (Nesryn x Yrene)

Rowcan (Rowan x Lorcan)

Fenaedion (Fenrys x Aedion)

Sorchahemia (Sorcha x Nehemia)

Celehemia (Celaena x Nehemia)

Herrin (Hollin Havilliard x Terrin Westfall)

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Luzriel (Lucien x Azriel)

Gwynlain (Gwyn x Elain)

Neris (Nesta x Eris)

Helloa (Helion x LOA)

The Folk of The Air

Ghardan (The Ghost x Cardan)

Jucasia (Jude x Nicasia)

Harry Potter

Dreo/Dragonott (Draco x Theo)

Linny (Luna x Ginny)

Jegulus (James x Regulus)

Wolfstar (Remus x Sirius)

Dorlene (Dorcas x Marlene)

Pandalily (Pandora x Lily)

Narlily (Narcissa x Lily)

Nobleflower (Narcissa x Alice)

The Grishaverse

Helnik (Matthias x Nina)

Wesper (Jesper x Wylan)

Tolnej (Tolya x Inej)

Kazper (Kaz x Jesper)

Zoyalai (Zoya x Nilolai)

Gevid (Genya x David)

Genyalina (Genya x Alina)

Zoyalina (Zoya x Alina)

Zonya (Zoya x Genya)

Darkolai (The Darkling x Nikolai)

The Riordanverse

Jercy (Jason x Percy)

Pipabeth (Piper x Annabeth)

Valdangelo (Leo x Nico)

Reynalia (Reyna x Thalia)

Frazel (Frank x Hazel)

Top Gun: Maverick

Sereshaw/Hangster (Hangman x Rooster)

Payboy (Payback x Fanboy)

Peaky Blinders

Jesme (John Shelby x Esme Shelby)

Pollyrama (Polly x Aberama)

Finnsiah (Finn Shelby x Isaiah Jesus)

DO NOT INTERACT IF:

• you are a manorian shipper

• you are a maven calore fan/stan/defender/apologist

• you are pro the inner circle

• you are anti any of my favorite characters and/or ships (specifically chaol, chaorian, malide, nesrene, cal, calorn, draco, jason and/or jercy)

• you are pro sjm and/or jkr

i hope you enjoy your time here and feel free to message me and/or send me an ask anytime!!

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fireheartfaery · 2 years

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songs I associate with crackships

day 6: song association

it's no surprise that I use music a lot when I'm writing. especially when im writing violence or smut so allocating songs to different ships was not a difficult task. there would be more if tumblr didn't have an audio clip limit of 10. but I hope y'all enjoy what is essentially a mini playlist

@sjmcrackshipweek

[image has alt text]

Manon x Aelin: genghis khan by miike snow

Fenrys x Hunt: there's no way by lauv and julia michaels

Bryce x Aelin: as you need by alex aiono

Rowan x Lorcan: chicken tendies by clinton kane

Fenrys x Lorcan x Rowan: love back (piano version) by gabrielle aplin

Fenrys x Asterin: breathless by shayne ward

Aedion x Azriel: if I could by brynn cartelli

Rhysand x Dorian: serotonin by santino le saint and cruz cafuné

Rhysand x Rowan: secondhand heart by ben haenow and kelly clarkson

Rowan x Dorian: wild by john legend and gary clark jr.

#sjm crackship week #SJM crackship appreciation week #scaw #crackships keep fandom alive #day 6 #maelin #Fensterin #moonthalar #Braelin #Rowcan #rhysian #rowsand #rorian #I had more cracks and songs but tumbles has an audio limit so😔#Spotify #crackship appreciation week

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darklesmylove · 3 years

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literally there are SO MANY GOOD GAY TOG SHIPS:

malide

maelin

lysaelin

rowcan

chaorian

yrene x nesryn

lysandra x nesryn

elide x yrene

like the list is endless HOW did sjm not have one good damn lgbtq ship in her series i’m-

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

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dream of me

rowan x lorcan, regency era au, word count: 1963

Rowan is not surprised when a battered, bloodied hand appears on his windowsill.

He calmly stands from his reading chair and puts the leather-bound tome on the small end table. A candle burns steadily in its wrought holder, wax beads melting down it. Rowan picks it up and carries it with him as he walks.

A large body pushes itself up and heaves itself over the ledge. Lorcan’s hair is falling from the sloppy bun he’s shoved it into. The dark strands cling to his temples and the sides of his cheeks, raindrops falling down his face as it splits into a golden type of grin, “Evening, pretty boy.”

“Do you not know how to tell time, Lorcan?” Rowan asks casually. “It’s far past evening.”

A slight groan leaves Lorcan’s lips as he swings his leg over the windowsill and nimbly lands on the spot of hardwood before the thick carpet. Rowan used to have the carpet flush with the wall, but when Lorcan’s midnight drop-ins became frequent, Rowan quickly became tired of him trailing mud on it, so he moved the carpet for Lorcan to have a designated area.

Rowan sees the way Lorcan leans to the side and the way his arm is loosely wrapped around his waist. He sighs through his nose and waves the other boy to his bed, “Sit down. I’ll take care of those ribs.”

“There’s nothing-” Lorcan hisses through his teeth, “-nothing wrong with my ribs, Whitethorn.” He toes his dirty boots off and limps to the messy bed. The old frame creaks under his weight and Lorcan tries to hide his sigh of relief, but Rowan hears it all the same.

“Your clothes are soaking, Lorcan. You should change before you catch a cold,” Rowan says, refusing to look at Lorcan. The young duke abhors the fact that his pale cheeks blush, giving himself away at the thought of a shirtless Lorcan. Rowan busies himself by gathering the necessary medical fixings for Lorcan’s injuries.

It must’ve gone wrong, he thinks. Lorcan spends his nights breaking into the rich’s homes, stealing whatever he can. For a few weeks, he lets the town have its little fit and then, he offers his deductive skills to unearth whichever priceless treasure he’s kept hidden away.

They pay handsomely for his services. It humours Rowan, to keep his mouth shut and laugh quietly at them all. From the moment Lorcan emerged as the city’s up and coming investigator, Rowan knew there was something the young man hadn’t told them. And his suspicions had been confirmed on that fateful night, when Lorcan had mistaken the Whitethorn residence for the Havilliard’s. That night, he pushed Rowan up against the bookcase in the library, a wicked dagger at his throat. His wild eyes searched Rowan’s until they calmed and he stepped back. I know you won’t tell anyone, Master Whitethorn. Keep this between us, will you?

Obviously, Rowan agreed, though he made Lorcan swear to him that the Whitethorn mansion would never be a target. He added that Lorcan would come to him for help, whenever he so needed it, and Lorcan had done so ever since.

“Rowan. Rowan. Rowan,” Lorcan says, waving his hand in Rowan’s face. “Are you alright? Are you tired?”

“Of course I am tired, Lorcan,” Rowan snaps, tersely putting down the gauze and soft cloths. “I am made to wait up for you every night and patch you up, only to have you ruin my work the night after!”

The thief’s dark eyes widen and when he opens his mouth to respond, nothing comes out. Rowan stares at him for a moment, willing his gaze to stay on Lorcan’s face and not notice the way his loose cotton shirt sticks to the chiseled planes of his chest from the rain.

When he still does not speak, Rowan scoffs and picks up the wooden bowl. “I’ve got to fetch some hot water. Do not move.” He stalks into his bathing chamber, where he’s kept a bucket of boiled water. He boiled it earlier in the evening, meaning it was the perfect temperature after it sat for a few hours.

Rowan’s frown does not fade as he fills the bowl and puts the cotton cloths into the steaming water. He carries it back with him and sees Lorcan carefully pulling his shirt off. His entire left side, from hip to shoulder, is covered by dark purple and violent red bruising. Rowan’s breath hitches in his throat and he forgets that he is angry with Lorcan.

He rushes to the bed and puts the water bowl down, his hands light over Lorcan’s tender body. Despite the delicateness with which Rowan treats him, Lorcan still bites his lip to muffle the sound of his groan and his eyes screw shut.

Lorcan pants, “Are you going to help me or continue to prod me, Whitethorn. I’ve- fuck, I’ve broken them.” The skin above his heart tap-taps with its frantic beat.

“If you wish to be rude and uncooperative, you are free to leave,” Rowan says drily. He picks up the strips of gauze, “Lift your arms. Your ribs need wrapping.” Lorcan complies, groaning again when the motion causes him pain. “Would you stand, too?”

Again, Lorcan does as he’s told. He stands between Rowan’s spread legs, probably closer than is necessary or considered appropriate. Rowan doesn’t mind. In fact, he would like Lorcan closer, would like their bodies pressed together, would like to know if they fit as well as he thinks they do.

Neither speaks as Rowan snugly wraps the gauze around Lorcan’s middle. He doesn’t do it too tightly, knowing that if Lorcan cannot breathe normally, his lungs could catch an infection, like pneumonia. “What happened tonight, Lorcan?”

“I learned that the Perringtons had left for a month and broke in for the skull of Erawan,” Lorcan says, his voice low, nearly too quiet to be heard above the soothing pitter-patter of rain. “They came back early, just two days ago. Apparently Adarlan is not agreeable this time of year.”

Rowan snorts and tucks the ends of the bandage away. “What a shame.” He stands and gasps softly when he becomes near nose-to-nose with Lorcan. He’s so close he can differentiate the browns and onyxes in Lorcan’s depthless irises.

They share a breath for a moment, Lorcan’s full lips so close to ghosting over Rowan’s. “You- you should s-sit,” Rowan stammers out, that same damned blush blooming across his cheekbones. “Rest, you have been injured.”

Lorcan nods, silent, and lifts his hand to tuck a curl of Rowan’s light hair behind his ear, “Yes.”

Rowan moves so that Lorcan can sit again. He takes the spot next to Lorcan, and tucks a leg beneath him so he can face Lorcan. They all but refuse to speak as Rowan cleans the wounds on Lorcan’s face, his heart splintering at the long cut, indicative of a knife, slashing down Lorcan’s face. He breathes tremulously, his fingers shaking.

Rowan tenderly takes care of Lorcan's wounds and is powerless to stop the tears from lining his eyes. He hates this, seeing the boy his heart and soul belong to, so battered and bruised. So hurt, he can hardly breathe without pain.

Every night, it becomes more difficult to stand. He wishes every morning that he does not see Lorcan again, that he’s left, run away to the countryside like he once drunkenly admitted to dreaming of, without a note or a farewell. It’s a foolish hope of Rowan’s, really, but he’d rather be foolish than face reality.

“You are crying,” Lorcan notes. Rowan realises his cheeks are wet with tears. “Why are you crying, Rowan?”

Surely he must be joking, Rowan thinks. Surely no one is that dense. Surely Lorcan knows it’s all for him. “You are playing a trick on me,” Rowan says, dumbfounded. “You truly cannot be this stupid, Lorcan.”

The dark boy frowns, pulling back, “I am not stupid. I want to know why you are crying. It is not you that has been injured. What pain are you feeling?”

“You are stupid,” Rowan insists, tossing the cloth to the side. “You are the stupidest boy I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Lorcan frowns harder, his temper flaring in those eyes of his, the ones Rowan dreams of. “Stop calling me stupid, Rowan. I cannot help you if I do not know what is the matter!”

Rowan stands, his arms flung out wide, “I hate caring for you! I hate, with a burning passion, caring for you.”

Hurt flashes across Lorcan’s face and it stays there. Normally, anger would be all too quick to follow, but his grave features remain drenched in agony. “How could- then why- what have I- I do not understand,” Lorcan says, his words shaking. “Why are you saying this to me? Why would you say that to me?”

“Because I hate it when you are hurt, Lorcan,” Rowan spits, too far gone in his rage to notice the beginnings of understanding in Lorcan’s gaze. “I hate it when you climb through my window and I hate it when I have to patch you up and I hate it when you return to the gutter, just to repeat this all over again.”

“Ro–”

“You told me you once despised this life. You told me that one day, you would leave and run to the country and never once look back.” Rowan swallows as tears roll down his cheeks. He sits down once more and, with such care and adoration, takes Lorcan’s face in his hands, “I pray for that day to come every night, so I do not have to see the boy I love hurt again.”

Rowan tips his forehead against Lorcan’s and whispers, “I love you, Lorcan. You… have my heart and my soul and whatever it is that makes me whole. And if you keep-” he chokes for a moment, his eyes falling shut, “-if you keep being hurt and showing up at my window, battered halfway to death, I will shatter into a thousand pieces that can never be put back again.”

“You love me?” Lorcan asks, his words light with wonderment and golden, golden hope. “You- you love me?”

“Yes,” Rowan breathes, confessing his most twisted secret. “With all that I am and all that I will ever be, Lorcan.”

“Ro,” Lorcan murmurs, his hand lifting to the curve of Rowan’s neck. “Rowan, open your eyes. Please… look at me, my darling.”

Rowan’s hummingbird heart flutters and trips over itself. He’s never been anyone’s darling and how lucky is he, to be Lorcan’s, the only person he will ever love and the only person he will ever tolerate. He opens his eyes, quietly searching Lorcan’s. “What is it,” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“I have loved you for years,” Lorcan tells him. “There is nothing in this god-forsaken life I want to take with me to the next one, save for you, Rowan. I love you, most ardently.”

The two boys smile softly at each other, twin spots of pink on their cheeks. It is Rowan who closes the distance between them first, pressing his rosy lips against Lorcan’s mouth and stealing his air. Rowan’s hands slip around Lorcan’s neck as Lorcan pulls him closer, mindless of the hurt in his body that pains at every movement.

They kiss slowly, they hold each other so closely, like the other is the most precious thing to them, like the other’s love and touch is the only thing they shall need in life.

And maybe it is. Maybe that’s all they’ve ever needed.

an: they deserve this and i deserve this so i was self indulgent and did what i wanted again <3 enjoy darlings

@mythicaitt @ladyverena @empress-ofbloodshed @ladywitchling @darklesmylove @shyvioletcat @the-regal-warrior @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @thewayshedreamed @sassyhobbits @tswaney17

#i luv them i luv them i luv them !!#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #regency era au #isa writes gay shit #nalgenewhore

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celestialend · 3 years

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I’m really not okay and just wanna cry today, send me cute headcanon for when I finish work?

#malide #elorcan #rowcan #rowaelin #manorian

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jadeaffliction · 4 years

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Sarah J Maas Masterlist

(TOG & ACOTAR Fics)

Multi Chapter Fics

The Night Shift (Rowaelin) On Hold.

Summer Of Carmine (Rowaelin) Coming soon

Oneshots

She’s Casual (Elorcan) Coming soon

Drabbles

Ruined Part 2 (Rowaelin)

Hoping to write more stuff soon.

I don’t write for Elriel, sorry :)

#writing masterlist #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #tog fanfic #acotar fanfic #rowaelin #elorcan #lysaedion #rowcan #feysand #nessian #azriel #gwynriel

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fenrys-moonbeam-lochan · 4 years

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Soulmate AU 1.0: My Love is Worth so Much More (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 ao3

Summary: Everyone knows the facts about soulmates. You are born with dull marks on your body that brighten when you touch your soulmates for the first time. A person can have up to any number of soulmates though three is the average number. You stop ageing at age twenty-five and do not age until you find all your soulmates and until all your soulmates start ageing too. Those are the facts

Then there are beliefs. Soulmates are supposed to be chosen by the universe for you, so they can’t be wrong, can they? Wrong. There is no point in it if they do not respect you, no point if they do not love you. No point if they hurt you.

It takes years for Lorcan to figure that out though.

Note: This is basically a filler chapter of Rowan and Lorcan being adorable.

XXX

Lorcan sat on the roof, dangling his feet over the ledge, taking in the scene below him. Small automobiles were running among the streets. The small houses had been replaced by strings of linked buildings and stalls had been replaced by small shops. The people were dressed differently too, moved differently and spoke differently. Lorcan had noticed his own speech patter changing too. He still spoke formally to Maeve and his language with Vaughan and Gavriel was still according to their first three decades, yet when he spoke to Rowan the slang and words used were different, they were also different when he spoke to some of the younger warriors.

His thoughts were interrupted as white-tailed hawk landed beside him. A few seconds later, Rowan was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?” Rowan mumbled

“Change,” said Lorcan, pulling the other man close to his side

“Hmmm,” said Rowan, “Beauty of living this long. You get to see the world evolve in front of you,”

“Yes,” said Lorcan, watching the sun dip into the horizon. There was a beauty to it but an ugliness too. He kept that thought to himself.

“Not everything changes though, right?”

Lorcan turned toward Rowan and was greeted with a bright smiled and shining eyes, made more beautiful by the rays of the setting sun.

Lorcan smiled and nodded in agreement. Rowan took his hand and squeezed it gently.

Yes, not everything changed.

They sat there until the sun had set and the stars had come out and the moon was shining above them. They only left when the wind became too chilly, holding hands and hurrying back in the middle of the night.

When they got back, Rowan slipped into bed first and help up the covers for Lorcan. The older man smiled and slipped inside, placing a soft kiss on Rowan’s mouth.

Some things stayed the same.

XXX

He was reminded again that nothing changed when in the morning Maeve had him whipped until his back covered in too much blood to see skin and there were black spots in front of his eyes.

He could feel Vaughan’s hand in his hair as he drifted off into unconsiousness.

XXX

Lorcan took a few deep breathes to steady his heartbeat and turned his attention to his soulmate beside him. Rowan was trembling a little, his hands were still clutching at Lorcan and small breathy sounds were coming from his lips. He had glazed over look in his eyes, a look he always got after one their longer...sessions.

Lorcan gently started to place kisses all over Rowan’s face and shoulders, making the younger man whimper a little.

“You with me, little hawk?” whispered Lorcan and Rowan nodded, his eyes clearing up a little.

Lorcan smiled and gave him a soft kiss, “Good?”

Rowan’s hold on his arm loosened and he nuzzled into his neck, “Holy Shit,”

Holy Shit indeed.

“God,” muttered Rowan, after returning one of his longer kisses, “You would think after all these years, I would get over having sex with you,”

Lorcan laughed, a smug feeling settling in his chest. It was nice to know that, even after sharing a bed for over a century, he could still make the younger man fall apart with just his touch.

“If it makes you feel better, you make my heart beat just as fast as you did the first time,” Lorcan told him

Rowan smiled and gave him another open-mouthed kiss.

“That is wonderful to hear,” said Rowan, “I would hate for you to get bored of me,”

Lorcan flipped them so his body was stretched over Rowan’s, their eyes locked together, staring deeply into each other.

“Not a chance, Whitethorn,”

Rowan smiled his sweet smile at him, “Good,” he said and surged up to kiss him again.

#lorcan x rowan #rorcan #rowcan #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #lorcan salvaterre

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lorcandidlucienwill · 6 months

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Rowan would have liked nothing more than to slit the male’s throat for leaving Aelin to die at the hands of the Valg princes. He might very well get the chance to do that—soon. “I will never forget, not for one moment, what you did to him that day in Doranelle. Your miserable existence is at the bottom of my priority list, but one day, Lorcan …” She smiled a little. “One day, I’ll come to claim that debt, too. Consider tonight a warning.”

Sorry, but... Rowan and Aelin's reasons for hating Lorcan don't even make sense. Especially when you consider this:

Rowan ran, shoving aside his oldest friend, shouldering past the other towering male who now appeared—Lorcan. Even Lorcan had answered his call.

Lorcan came to help. And he came to help ROWAN, not Aelin. But the darkness did not advance over the ward-stones, and Rowan, who had been restrained by Gavriel and Lorcan in the grass outside the fortress, knew why. Lorcan AND Gavriel were restraining Rowan, yet only Lorcan gets the blame. Plus, they were doing it to save his life. Lorcan swore over the roar of the torrential rain. “She is dead, you fool, or close enough to it. You can still save other lives.” They began hauling him to his feet, away from her. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll rip your head from your body,” he snarled at Lorcan, the commander who had offered him a company of warriors when he had nothing and no one left. IT WAS LORCAN WHO OFFERED ROWAN THE FIRST FRIENDS HE EVER HAD. LORCAN. LORCAN. NOT ANYBODY ELSE. Celaena went for Goldryn, but the twins went for Rowan, who did nothing, didn’t even struggle as they gripped his arms, forcing him again to his knees. Two others emerged from the shadows behind them. Gavriel, his tawny eyes carefully empty, and Lorcan, face stone-cold. And in their hands … FENRYS AND CONNALL RESTRAINED ROWAN. Gavriel sent his whip flying so fast Rowan had only a breath to recover. There was no remorse on Gavriel’s lovely face, no sign of the male she’d thanked weeks ago. Gavriel AND Lorcan whipped Rowan. ALL FOUR WERE CULPABLE. IT WAS NOT LORCAN'S FAULT ALONE. BESIDES, THERE WAS THE FREAKING BLOOD OATH. REMEMBER??? “No,” Fenrys agreed. “But we would offer that strength to another.” And he looked at Rowan as he said, “When we got your call for aid this spring—when you asked us to come defend Mistward, we left before Maeve could get wind of it. We ran.” “That’s enough,” Lorcan growled. But Fenrys went on, holding Rowan’s steady gaze, “When we returned, Maeve whipped us within an inch of our lives. Tied Lorcan to the posts for two days and let Cairn whip him whenever he wished. Lorcan ordered us not to tell you—for whatever reason. But I think Maeve saw what we did together in Mistward and realized how dangerous we could be—to her.” LORCAN DID THIS FOR HIS HOMIE ROWAN. I KNOW ROWAN DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT IT, BUT LORCAN STILL DID IT. ROWAN SEVERELY UNDERESTIMATED THE DEPTH OF LORCAN'S REGARD FOR HIM. Reading all of this and then seeing Rowan say Gavriel was his only friend just makes me so mad. At the end he called them all his brothers, but I was MAD pressed in the middle here.

#lorcan salvaterre #lorcan stan #lord lorcan lochan #cadre #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #heir of fire #rowcan

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eyeofthedrgn · 2 years

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Home is Where the Heart is - chapter 6

New chapter for one of my Rowcan fics is up! I have been in Young Royals land for a while, my bad. I didn't mean to neglect these two. There are just too many wip's! Anyway, here's chapter 6!

He's really not sure if he wants to run for mayor again. Rowan is tired of the politics, the events, the everything. Not to mention, he keeps having less and less time to spend with Lorcan. They have been together for over a year now. Lorcan lives at Rowan’s place about half the time, claiming he can't sleep at his apartment anymore. Not that Rowan is complaining. He loves coming home after work to find his boyfriend there playing with Brutus or making dinner or napping on the couch.

That's probably half of his reasoning for questioning his career. He wants more time with his boyfriend. He wants them to move in together, fuck, he wants to marry the man. Not that they have talked about either of those life changing events, but still. That’s where his head is.

Rowan’s leaning against his kitchen island staring at all of the Polaroid’s stuck to the fridge. There’s blurry ones of Lorcan because apparently Rowan is terrible at staying still to take a clear shot. There are ones with the two of them, others that include Brutus, some of just Rowan. He loves them all. He wants a whole wall covered in a checkerboard of Polaroid photos.

continue on ao3

start from the beginning

#home is where the heart is #rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #rowcan fanfic #tog fanfic #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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lucien-calore · 2 years

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tog couples and who would die if they went to vormir

chaorian: it absolutely breaks my heart to think about it but chaol would 100% be the one to sacrifice himself

lysaelin: aelin but they would fight for it like clint and nat

rowcan: i think lorcan, and he would say something like “i’m a terrible person and i don’t deserve to live”

malide: manon because “i’ve lived for a long time, it’s time for me to go”

fenrys x aedion: aedion, because he’s a gryffindor and he would “do what’s right”

nesryn x yrene: nesryn but only because she has more training and would easily tie yrene up and jump

#chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #lysandra #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #yrene towers #nesryn faliq #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #aedion ashryver #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass #tog

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fireheartfaery · 4 years

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Late Nights

Ciara’s attempt at a fanfic! I just got really obsessed with Rowcan and needed to do something about the bubbling in my veins?!?!?! Anyway i hope you enjoy (and this is my first fanfic for this fandom so please go easy on me)

Gretch this one is for you! @queen-of-demons-and-hell

Lorcan Salvaterre wakes up in a bad mood. But more than that he wakes up alone. His lover had slipped away in the early hours of the morning, judging by the cold space and the distinct lack of clothes strewn across the room. In his abundant years of life he has seldom woken up by himself and on the mornings he does it's an ache in his ribs. His friends would call it abandonment issues. His friends are dicks.

He glowers at the bathroom mirror, attempting to tame his knotted mop of midnight black hair, and when that doesn't work he throws it up in a twisted knot, the little care he possessed disappearing. By the time he's dressed for the day, his signature scowl is in place and he's third cup of coffee has been downed. He adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, and hooks a blazer over his shoulder. With a final glance around his apartment he's out the door and on his way to work.

The day doesn't much improve, but at the very least he gets to drink the premium coffee.

"Lorcan, my office."

Looking up at his boss, her raven hair swaying in time with her hips, he doesn't bother with a reply instead shoving out from his chair and attempting to school his face into a neutral expression. He had learnt years ago that showing any emotion around Maeve would earn you nothing but trouble.

"Yes Boss," He walks in shutting the door with a quiet click.

She doesn't look up from her laptop, black nails clicking against the keyboard, "I need you to work on the Havilliard Project, and get it done by tomorrow morning. I have to present it to the board at 10 and you know how I feel about not meeting deadlines."

He had a good mind to ask why she didn't do it if she was so worried. Instead he nodded his agreement, "Anything else boss?"

"Call Whitethorn in when you leave."

And with a wave of her hand he was dismissed.

"Boss," He growls, as he shoves past Rowan Whitethorn's desk.

The silver-haired, golden boy doesn't react to his anger, doesn't do anything except get up and disappear behind Maeve's door. Lorcan wants to throw something across the room. It irks him to no end that Whitethorn doesn't do anything. What kind of person doesn't show any emotion besides mild amusement?

The day slowly drags on, sun slipping past his desk and disappearing behind the blackening sky. Perfect, at least something was as dark as his mood. The Havilliard Project, as Maeve so nicely calls it, is a pain in his ass. He doesn't know how he got stuck with it but the entire team has jumped ship, refusing even to help him. So here he is, clock crawling towards six pm and he's only half way done.

He vaguely hears the chorus of goodbyes as his coworkers slowly filter out, probably getting ready for the Thursday night party scene, so many of them frequented, or going home to their families. Elide he knows, is off tomorrow because she's taking the weekend to visit her girlfriend across the country. She stops by his desk briefly and then practically skips away, happiness rolling off her. He's jealous. He's not sure if it's because she gets to leave or it's because she's getting a holiday but he's envious of her. It’s disgusting.

He glances at the desks next to him, noting their emptiness. Gavriel, as meticulous and decorated as ever, on his right, and Rowan, mostly neat but bland as plain bread. He shouldn't talk though, his own desk is devoid of any personality besides a little axe paperweight Aelin got him as a gag gift a few birthdays ago.

Having a ninth cup of coffee is useless, eight is generally where it stops working, but he can't help but need the bitter taste. Besides it's a reason to get up and move. Just get out of the suffocating box for a little while. Minutes later, a steaming coffee in his hand, he settles back into his desk and resolves to finish this before midnight.

Some hours into a presentation, sky littered with stars and the moon gleaming through the floor to ceiling windows, a shuffling from behind him grabs his attention.

"Whitethorn?" He peers at his coworker, confusion blanketing his features, "What are you still doing here?"

"Working."

"Gee thanks," He rolled his eyes, "Thought maybe you were practicing for your mariachi band." He swivels his chair, getting up to dispose of his mug in the sink.

"Shut up Salvaterre."

"Make me Whitethorn," He growls.

And in a split second his back is against the wall and forest green eyes are blazing.

"Wanna try that again?" Rowan breathes, noses brushing against each other.

Lorcan's lips pull up in a smirk, "I said, Make. Me."

The silver-haired male grins, slow and seductive, "You sure about that Salvaterre?"

"Try me Whitethorn."

And then Rowan's lips are on his and it's like fire. Like heat and red and sin. Teeth and tongue and dominance. He groans as he feels a sharp sting on his bottom lip. Rowan takes the opportunity to push into him, hip to hip. He can feel the evidence of their arousal and its almost enough to end him. Hands, big and bruising, roam his body, catching on the contours of his body.

Rowan brushes a thumb across his teeth and then wraps a hand around his throat, pulls back slightly, green eyes sparking, "Next time Salvaterre," He breathes, "It won't be my kiss that shuts you up."

"Can't wait pretty boy." He smiles, letting the devil show.

Pine eyes narrow in warning, "Fucking dick."

Lorcan drags a hand down that lithe body and squeezes his ass, "See you at home babe."

"Don't forget to buy milk, prick."

His boyfriend steps away, silver hair catching on the moonlight but Lorcan pulls him back and crashes their bodies together, "Warm the bed, tonight I want to hear you moan."

And gods, did his name sound delicious falling from grace.

#Rowcan #rowcan fic #late nights #FDS fanfic #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #crack ship #crack ship fic #Ciara attempts to write #throne of glass

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darklesmylove · 4 years

Text

the world if throne of glass had canon gay ships and actually good representation:

#tog #throne of glass #aelin ashryver galathynius #elide lochan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #manon blackbeak #malide #lysandra #lysaelin #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #dorian x chaol #chaol x dorian #rowcan #nehemia #aelin x nehemia #sorscha

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

without a doubt

rowan x lorcan, modern au, yulemas au, word count: 2098

“Darling, please,” his boyfriend laughs, “stop pouting.”

Rowan frowns and tucks his chin into the collar of his hoodie. Lorcan’s hoodie, actually. “I am not pouting. I’m upset.”

Through the screen of the laptop, Lorcan’s image is grainy. His smile dims slightly, “I know. I’m sorry, Ro. I was really sure that we would be done by now.” He flicks his eyes to the side and the muscles in his sharp jaw feather. His dark brows lower and he mutters, “I never would’ve taken it if I knew I’d be gone this long.”

“I know, my love,” Rowan whispers, subtly wiping away the silver that lines his eyes. “But this is your dream. It’s always been your dream, L. I can’t be the reason you give that all up, you know?”

Lorcan nods, that frown still on his fiercely beautiful face. He looks down and picks at his bedspread, “Yeah, I know.” Quickly, he snaps his head up, his eyes ablaze, “I would though. I’d give it all up for you, if you asked.”

The words rest on the tip of his tongue. Rowan almost blurts them out, but he doesn’t. Instead he smiles softly to hide the aching, yearning feeling that never quite dulls. “But I’m not asking you. So you’re stuck there.”

Lorcan laughs humorlessly and his eyes sparkle, “Yeah, I know.” It falls kind of flat. If they were together, Rowan would kiss him and they would forget all about it all. “Oh, I got you your Yulemas gift today. Putting it in the mail tomorrow.”

“Oh, really? Will I like it?” Rowan shifts to lie on his stomach and props his chin up on a ring-laden fist.

“Rowan Whitethorn!” Lorcan gives him an offended look, “When have I ever gotten you something you haven’t liked?”

Rowan laughs and concedes, “You’re right, you’re right. You truly are the gift master.”

“I know,” Lorcan replies smugly. He stretches his bare arms above his head and tucks his hands behind him, his head cradled by his inked biceps. “You’re a very… appreciative receiver.” With his cocky grin, there’s no way to ignore the implication.

An outraged gasp escapes Rowan, “Are you calling me a whore?”

Lorcan laughs, “No, I am not calling you a whore. You can have the qualities of a label and not be the label.”

“You are calling me a whore! Oh my gods, I hate you,” Rowan complains, his green eyes narrowed in warning. “Maybe it’s a good thing you aren’t here ‘cause I could kill you right now.”

“Oh, I love it when you sweet talk me, baby. Reminds me of how you stole my heart.”

Rowan snorts and grabs a pillow to cushion his chin, “I love you. And I wish I could say it in person.”

His boyfriend’s face softens. Lorcan says back, “I love you too and I wish you could hear it for real.”

They smile at each other, eyes filled with longing and reverent adoration. Until hours later, when they both fall asleep without bothering to hang up, they talk about everything and nothing at all. It mends their incomplete souls, even if just for a moment.

☽ ☼ ☾

“Happy Yulemas Eve!”

Rowan smiles and accepts the hug Aelin pulls him into, “Happy Yulemas Eve, Fireheart. Is everyone here already?” He looks over his friend’s head down the front hall of her apartment.

They step back and Aelin nods, “Yeah, they’re all here. Well, almost.”

He nods and steps in, “Yeah… he- he tried, you know, but there wasn’t any way.” Rowan shrugs his coat off and hangs it up. “It’s fine. He promised to call and say ‘hey’ later, during presents.”

The golden-haired woman grins and takes his bag of gifts, “That’ll be nice - we all miss him. Now,” she tucks her hand into his elbow and tugs him in, “come along, there’s lots to do!”

In the open-concept living room, their friends are already there, at varying levels of sobriety. They call out their cheerful greetings as Aelin puts Rowan’s presents beneath the tree. Fenrys surges to his feet, “Rowan!”

Rowan laughs at the sight of his drunken friend, “Hey, bud. How are you doing?”

“I’m very, very, very good,” Fenrys slurs. “Ress is here, did you see?” He casts an adoring look at his boyfriend, who blushes like always. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“I know, Fen,” Rowan says, his bright grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Oh! Oh no, I’ve upset you,” Fenrys exclaims, his face twisted in wasted anguish. He throws his arms around Rowan and pats the top of his head, “Oh, it’s ok, it’s ok. Lor’s a miserable misan—”

“Ok, Fenrys, why don’t we go somewhere else, hmm?” Lysandra interjects, pulling Fenrys away. She kisses Rowan’s cheek, pushing him to the kitchen like a perfect hostess should. “There’s food and drinks in the kitchen and dinner will be ready in half an hour - help yourself, ‘kay?”

Rowan nods and walks to the kitchen, quietly filling a plate. A petite woman slips up to him, a drink in hand for him, “Hello, Rowan. How are you?”

He smiles as he pops an olive into his mouth, “Hey, El.” Rowan shrugs, “I’m… fine. I’m fine. Really, it’s…”

“Fine?” Elide suggests, a cheeky grin on her heart-shaped face.

“Yeah,” Rowan sighs.

She leans against him, rubbing his back soothingly, “Ok, well, c’mon to the living room and sit with me. Borte and Aelin are going at it again.” Elide pulls him to the couch without waiting for his response.

For a while, Rowan forgets about being alone. Around him, his family talks animatedly, egging the two most chaotic members on as they battle over the finale to some show they’re both obsessed with. The others watch with rapt attention, laughing outrageously at the things Borte and Aelin say.

In a lull of silence, Rowan stands up, “I’m going to step out for a bit. Too warm.” He walks to the balcony as the conversation resumes, albeit much quieter. Everyone turns to their respective partners, whispering soft nothings and laughing at stupid jokes. His breath hitches and Rowan looks to the kitchen just in time to see Lysandra hold a sprig of mistletoe over Aelin’s head and the couple kisses, smiling as they press their lips together.

His chest squeezes painfully tight. Tears burn his eyes and Rowan rushes outside. It’s bitterly cold and the sharp winter wind nips at his face. He sniffles, blowing out a long breath to keep his tears at bay. It’s stupid.

In the pocket of his oversized corduroys, Rowan feels his phone buzz. He hastily pulls it out with clumsy, half-frozen fingers. He expects to see Lorcan’s contact flashing over the screen with a waiting call, but all he sees is a text message.

lover boy <3: srry ro smthng came up

lover boy <3: can’t call tn

lover boy <3: luv u

All his air escapes him in a pathetic, teary exhale. Rowan shakes his head in disbelief and types back quickly.

pretty boy: are you sure? i really miss you

lover boy <3: i’ll call tmrw

lover boy <3: promise

Rowan sighs and replies resignedly.

pretty boy: ok love

pretty boy: i love you too

Rowan shuts his phone off and wipes his eyes, cursing himself for his tears.

Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Asks a hissing voice. His ears burn in shame. He’s finally doing what he’s always wanted to - why aren’t you happy for him? He would be happy for you.

Rowan shakes his head to dispel the thoughts and puts his phone in his pocket. He pushes his silver-blond curls off and braces his hands against the railing. After a few minutes, the glass door slides open and someone steps out, “Ro? Is everything alright? We’re going to open gifts now.”

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine. Something came up and Lor can’t call tonight.” He turns, shrugging his shoulder up. “It’s fine.” Rowan drags his red and silver lined eyes up to Aelin’s. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She steps out and takes his hand, “Come on, we’ve got presents.”

He smiles and lets her pull him inside. He’s ushered to a seat and handed a mug of mulled wine.

Aelin peruses the available gifts and picks a slim box up, “And this one is for Rowan, from his very own lover boy.” She passes it to Rowan who takes it. He traces the tip of his finger over the label, smiling at his boyfriend’s looping handwriting.

Rowan doesn’t bother to be patient and tears into it, not noticing the tittering giggles and scurrying feet behind him. He tosses the wrapping paper to the side and eases the top of the box off.

Whatever’s inside is covered in tissue paper. Rowan carefully opens it, puzzled as he sees a folded slip of paper. He takes it out and glances into the box, but there’s nothing more. “Oh.” He unfolds it and reads it quickly.

turn around - L

Rowan frowns and puts the box down. “What is this?” He looks up and their faces are pink with barely controlled glee. “Guys, what did you do?”

From behind him, he hears a dry, dark chuckle. “Won’t you turn around, my darling?”

A half sob escapes Rowan and he stands up, the note fluttering to the floor as he turns. In the hall, Lorcan stands. He smiles a tired, weary smile, but it’s lazy and easy and golden and Lorcan. “Lor?” Rowan runs towards him, crashing into his boyfriend. He clutches at the back of Lorcan’s jacket, his smile blinding.

Lorcan laughs quietly and pulls Rowan close, his big arms around the green-eyed man’s waist, “Hey, Ro.”

“Hi,” Rowan whispers, tears caught in his lashes. “Are you really here?” He lifts his head, eyes searching Lorcan’s face.

Instead of answering, Lorcan closes the distance between them and kisses Rowan deeply. Rowan melts into the embrace and softly sighs his boyfriend’s name, slim fingers sliding into dark hair.

“Good gods, get a room already,” Aelin heckles cheerily.

Lorcan bites Rowan’s lower lip and flips Aelin off as he slides his tongue over Rowan’s. Rowan hums sweetly and pulls away, his lip tucked between his teeth, “What are you doing here? What about work?”

“I quit,” Lorcan says proudly, his eyes bright.

Rowan gapes at him and pushes his boyfriend backwards, “You what? Lorcan!” He smacks his boyfriend’s shoulder, “You love that job. Oh my gods, you did this for me, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

Lorcan grins widely, tugging Rowan back into his arms, “I’m sorry, pretty boy, but I did. No matter how much I liked it, I couldn’t be without you for that long.”

“But,” Rowan makes a helpless gesture, not entirely sure why he’s fighting this, “you love that job.”

“Yeah,” Lorcan bumps the tip of his cold nose into Rowan’s and pecks his lips, “but I love you more. I couldn’t enjoy it ‘cause I was missing you all the time.”

Rowan can’t articulate everything he wants to say, so he hopes his kiss does it for him, “I love you so much. So much, love.” He lazily cradles the back of Lorcan’s head.

“Hellas below, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear that for real,” Lorcan murmurs. “I love love love you.”

Behind them, their friends start to catcall and whistle in appreciation. They break apart, cheeks burning and lips love-bitten. Reluctantly, the couple walks into the living room. Rowan sits down in the oversized armchair and picks up his drink. As Lorcan goes around, saying hello to everyone, Aelin perches herself on the arm of Rowan’s seat and toys with his light curls, “So, how do you like your gift?”

“You- this was you? You did this for me?”

“Oh,” she laughs merrily, “I wish I could take credit for it, but I only helped with the getting him here. This idea was all your mans.” Aelin tilts her head to the side, “Best Yulemas ever?”

Rowan looks up to find Lorcan already looking his way. The dark-haired man walks over to him and bumps Aelin out of the way with an expert hip check, “What are you two talking about?” Lorcan sits down beside Rowan and slides his hand into the hair at the back of Rowan’s head.

Rowan rests his chin on Lorcan’s shoulder and kisses the skin beneath his jaw, “This being the best Yulemas ever.”

“Really? That good, hmm?”

“Mmm,” Rowan smiles and kisses him softly, “without a doubt.” He nuzzles his nose against Lorcan’s, “Best Yulemas ever.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: this is the first of a few fun lil holiday ficlets i’ve got planned & i hope u enjoy 😊

#aren't they cute !!#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes gay shit #nalgenewhore

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