#tog fic

[rowaelinsdaughter]

can i pla request rowaelin x reader where reader doesn’t know they’re mates and feel guilty for being attracted to both of them meanwhile rowaelin are internally begging for her to notice the bond

GUILTY

a/n;;; i got a little carried away but i loved writing this :")

WARNINGS;; guilty feelings, long chapter

she shouldn’t be feeling this. she should have done something earlier. but there was no coming back… she was in love with the queen and king of terrasen, and she felt guilty.

everything started with aelin. she entered one day to her bookstore looking for some books for her to read and to send some of them to her friend, dorian havilliard, the king of adarlan. she was going to bow when aelin told her not to, she had enough of it in the castle, she said. 

she asked her what books she was looking for. romance with some spice scenes she said. and while she entered the storehouse, aelin was cleaning the sweat in her hands. she gave her the books and told her to come back if she wanted anything more. of course. 

and she came back twice a week, sometimes she ordered some books, sometimes she didn’t buy anything… but she had the feeling that the queen of terrasen was in her bookstore for another reason. and one day she came with the king of terrasen. he was beautiful, they both were. you had been feeling something for aelin. her attention towards her, how she would always come to her bookstore when she knew for sure there were better bookstores in orynth. 

6 months passed, and she loved them. both of them. in the past few months, they had taken her out on dates, she had read with aelin in her castle room, rowan had helped her with the store… they had done things they shouldn’t have done, but they did, and now she was in love with the queen and king.

she was reading with aelin in her room, like so many days. they had decided to read the same book together and then comment on it. as they finished the last page, aelin said. “i don’t have words to describe it”

“me neither” she looked to aelin and found her eyes on her mouth. she pressed them together but aelin was still looking at them, she was going to say something when aelin kissed her. her tongue entered her mouth, she tasted like lemon verbena and kissing her was like being in heaven. but she was married to rowan, she was a married female, she had a mate. she pulled apart.

they were breathing fast, but she managed to speak “i can’t, i can’t” and she left, running to her home, leaving aelin in the room with tears rolling down her face. 

a month passed and she didn’t hear of them or saw them, as if they had already forgotten about her. but it was easier this way. it’s better this way.

it’s better this way. 

it’s better this way. 

it’s better this way. 

but she wasn’t better.

she missed them.

she missed spending the afternoon reading with aelin.

she missed going to walk with rowan.

she missed laughing with aelin and how rowan’s eyes would light up. 

she missed them like she hasn’t missed anyone. 

she had felt it the day aelin kissed her, had felt it when rowan would take her hand, a tug in her heart and a voice in her head. go. it would say. go, where?. go, just go. and it was her mother’s voice, who had told her to go every time she was with them. and know she knew what she meant. go with them. go where you feel safe. go where you are loved. go with your mates. 

mates.

she was their mate. 

and she felt guilty for it. for loving them, for being their mate. and she cried. cried for a love that was impossible. 

she had fallen asleep, her eyes red, and her mouth dry. but an incessant knocking on her door, had awakened her. she looked at the wall-clock. 2 am. barefoot, she made her way to the front door, and when she opened it… aelin was there. 

her blue and golden eyes were red from crying, bags under them, and her usually shiny hair was dull, without life. she knew rowan was near, keeping an eye on the street. 

“i need to talk to you” aelin whispered.

should she let her enter? do it. 

so she did. 

she led aelin to the couch, as she sat down, she watched as aelin started to pace. “i know that you may not want to see me or rowan, and i know i should have come the day you left, but… i didn’t know what to say or how to explain what we have, that you are our mate, and” a breathy laugh “gods, this month apart have been like being in hell, because that is what our lives feel without you. hell. we’ve been trying to tell you for months, but we were scared you would run away the moment you knew it.” she walked to her and she watched as aelin kneeled before her, taking her hands. and the tears she thought were dry, started to flow again like a waterfall. 

“but i want you to know that i love you. rowan loves you. we love you. because you are the light in our nights. you are the piece we were missing. so please, let us be yours.”

she kneeled before aelin. moving her hands away from her, she took her face with her hands, cleaning the tears with her thumbs. “i love you aelin, and i love rowan. i love both of you” aelin pressed her forehead with her’s, and a cold wind opened the window, and they watch as a hawk entered the room, and then turned into rowan. he walked to them and kneeling, he embraced both of them. he had heard everything. 

she felt the bond sing with happiness as she melted into her mates.

well done, darling… i love you. i will always love you.

EPILOGUE

she heard a little voice talk to her. but she was dreaming and that voice… she knew that voice. 

“hi there baby” 

evalyn. 

she wasn’t dreaming then. 

she blinked a few times, getting used to the sunlight that entered the bedroom. she watched down and she saw her. her silver hair was knotted, but her green eyes were bright as she talked to her belly. 

“good morning darling” she said to the little girl.

“good morning mommy” she called her mommy, while she called aelin mama. she looked again at her belly. “you think she can hear me?”

she let a low laugh. “of course she can” she said, stroking her hair. evalin climbed higher until her head was resting on her breast, and she hugged the little girl. 

aelin and rowan watched her two girls. 

we did it rowan. 

we did it, fireheart.

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @danikamariewrites @hellwantfuckme @shadowdaddies

#sjm books #sarah j maas #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin x f!reader #aelin x you #aelin x reader #rowan x you #rowan x reader #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x you #tog fluff #tog x reader #tog fic

[assassinsblade]

welcome!

about me: you can call me emily! i'm 25 and have written in the past but just started again. i have a master's in literature and love fantasy and romance books.

requests: i am currently not taking requests!

taglists: instead of doing taglists, i have the following account you can turn notifications on for: @assassinslibrary. i will only ever reblog new stories here so you can get a notification when posted!

masterlists:

azriel eris

#will add to this as i post more lol #ignore this unless new to my page or if you want to know more!! #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #tog fic #rowan x reader #lorcan x reader #dorian x reader #gwynriel #feysand #nessian #elucian #rowaelin #elorcan

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

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

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

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will kill her,” you vowed. 

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

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

tag list: @hellodarling1357 @sassyslytherinshai

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys throne of glass #throne of glass angst #throne of glass fanfic #fenrys tog #throne of glass fenrys #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam angst #tog imagine #tog series #tog x reader #kingdom of ash #tog fic #tog x you #tog x reader angst #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedthetic photography #gavriel throne of glass #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan #tog #tog x reader fluff #throne of glass imagine

[julemmaes]

Stuck

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre modern au

A/N: idk wtf this is, I got an idea and then it spiralled into something completely different and considered how I ended I might write a second part where they fuck it out of their system, just for the sake of it

Enjoy!:)

Word count: ~2300

"No. Nonono, fuck no. Not today, please!" She cried, running her fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots until it hurt. 

Elide groaned, shutting her eyes closed. 

She tried to draw a deeper breath in and when the tight skin dress didn't stretch enough for her to do so, Elide felt anxiety crest. 

"Fuck me," she whined, running to her living room, where the biggest mirror in her flat leaned against the wall. Maybe the problem was that she couldn't see properly and something was obstructing the way. 

Turning with her back to the glass, she started slapping at her back, trying to reach for the zipper. Once her fingers closer around the tiny chip of metal, Elide yanked the thing down. 

Nothing.

She closed her eyes in despair, breathing through her nose. When air got stuck in her throat again she blew it from her mouth. 

Her eyes started stinging. 

"Please, not today." 

She had had the longest day at work and she needed to get out of this dress, so she could decompress after the tiring shift. But no, she couldn't. Of course not. The universe hated her and she was cursed. 

And she was stuck. 

She tried again, slower, gentler. The zipper didn't even shift. 

Elide never really considered herself claustrophobic, she easily got into elevators and toilet stalls without windows. She never felt any kind of panic whenever she was in tiny, crowded spaces and such. 

But she was starting to doubt how much she truly knew herself at this point.

She clutched her neck with a hand, forcing herself to take small, slow breaths, trying to calm down and think of a solution. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of her apartment and striding down to the only other one she was sure wasn't vacant. 

She couldn't waste any time checking which neighbor was home or not and the music coming from apartment E24 was proof enough someone was in there.

She reached the door in the blink of an eye and started slamming her palm against the flat wood surface, so hard that her skin tingled with pain.

"Fuck!" A clearly masculine voice came from inside, “The Police!”

“Shut up, Fenrys, it’s not the Police,” another male voice came through. Whoever it was, they were immensely calmer than the former speaker. 

“Fuck you, Ro, you can’t know!” 

Elide called out, “I’m not the Police, please open the door!” 

“You open it, Dorian." 

“Are you for real?” Another person. 

"You're closer to it—"

"It's your house."

"—and I'm scared."

"Hellas above, I'll get the door." 

Elide didn't have time to step back that the door unlocked and a second later a guy larger than life stood in front of her. 

She sagged, leaning forward. She couldn't help the relieved whisper that escaped her. "Thank gods." 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already turning her back to him.

"I'm fucking stuck and if you don't help me right now I might collapse." 

Dramatic much, she could hear her best friend's words in her head. 

"I've been trying to get out of this hellish trap for twenty minutes and I–" she paused, panting as if she'd just ran a marathon, "–I can't really breathe."

When her plea was met with silence she turned her head enough to look over her shoulder and she only then realized how tall the man standing there was. 

He towered over her, by two heads. 

He was staring at her with parted lips and a furrowed brow.

"I'm sorry what?" His voice was rough, scratchy in a way that made Elide blush.

She whined, not above crying in front of strangers if it came to it, "The dress, it won't come off, I need you to zip it down. Please."

A loud, barking laugh came from inside the apartment and then a chorus of various voices started.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"No one will believe us when we tell this story."

"Lucky bastard." 

"I can't believe it myself and I'm living through it." 

Elide ignored the others and focused on the giant guy, looking him straight in the eyes, "Listen I just need you to pull it down, I can't do it myself and I live alone, please I…"

"Okay," he murmured. He stepped forward, lifting his hands toward her dress. He looked at her back before his eyes flitted to hers, "Can I?" 

"Please," Elide repeated. 

She tensed when his fingers brushed her skin, and held her breath when he brought the hems of the dress together and tried to pull the zipper down. 

"It doesn't work," he stated.

"No shit, Sherlock," someone said from inside. "She literally told you that." 

Elide brought her hands to her face and groaned for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

When he stepped back, she turned and eyed the others—there were seven guys, plus the titan standing next to her, in total. They seemed to be in the middle of some kind of videogame tournament. Snacks and joysticks lay everywhere and they were all wearing some kind of comfy clothes.

She had to hold back her smile when she realized she'd walked in on a slumber party.

"Do any of you know how to fix zippers or am I destined to die in this?" 

"I heard using soap works, come inside." 

Elide's attention shifted back to the guy next to her. She had to bend her head back to look him in the face. 

He was wearing black pants and a black sweater, and he had his arms crossed over his chest. He was eyeing her curiously, as if he was studying her. Elide couldn't say she minded the attention.

He was pretty good on the eye, too. 

Another one of the guys shot up, "Sure, let the stranger in, it's not like this is my house."

"You're right, I'm so sorry," Elide looked back at the room. She stepped inside nonetheless, "I'm Elide. Lochan. I live in E27? I think we crossed paths a couple of times?" 

"Oh, maybe." The owner of the house came up to her, extending a hand and flashing her a shit-eating grin, "Fenrys, Moonbeam." 

"Nice to meet you, where do you keep the soap?"

He seemed taken aback for a second and slowly lowered his hand. A few surprised snorts sounded in the room. He pointed a finger down the corridor, "Bathroom."

Someone brushed past her, murmuring a curt come as they passed. 

She didn't have to be told twice and followed the Wardrobe-wide Guy into the flat. 

He moved around the bathroom like he owned the place, and Elide would probably be embarrassed later when she realized she'd literally just barged into someone's house and demanded their help, but she needed to get out of this dress and couldn't really think of anything else at the moment.

"Turn around." 

Elide did as told without a word.

She hissed as a few droplets of cold water slid down her back. 

"Sorry," he grumbled. The soft sound of the soap bar grating against the zipper was the only audible thing. And she was growing aware of her surroundings.

"What's your name?"

"Lorcan." 

"Cool," she cleared her throat. "Cool, cool."

He huffed a breath. His version of a laugh, perhaps?

She felt the dress being pulled down, but nothing unzipping, then he clicked his tongue. 

"It's not working, is it?"

"Nah," he said, putting the soap back and washing his hands. "I could try with some oil." 

Elide let go of a shuddering breath, she just wanted out of it.

When she said nothing, Lorcan rounded her and stood in front of her, glancing down at her face. His chin jutted out, "You okay?" 

She nodded swiftly, offering a tight smile.

Now that she knew someone else was taking care of the issue at hand, she was feeling calmer. And she could think more clearly. 

The guy in front of her was stunning. 

He had long, black hair that reached his waist. Eyes just as dark and a white, deep scar that ran from the side of his forehead down to his temple that appeared even paler in contrast with his dark skin. She wondered how he'd gotten it.

"Are you claustrophobic or some shit like that?" 

That question brought her back to reality and made her aware of the fact that he'd been watching her just as closely.

She shook her head, "I'm just exhausted and I want to sleep. But I can't sleep in this."

His lips curled on one side and after a few seconds where they just studied each other, he jerked his head toward the living room before silently heading back. 

She was on his heels in a heartbeat.

The moment they stepped into the full room, Elide dared looking at the crowd. She stopped in the hall when one of them talked.

"Lorbear, I see you're no good at undressing ladies in distress." 

Lorbear. This group was close.

Elide snorted, rolling her eyes back and then fixing her stare on the blue-eyed prince charming that sat on the only armchair. "You think you could do better?" 

A white-haired guy chuckled, addressing her directly. "Our Dorian here hasn't seen a single dress in his entire life, he wouldn't know where to start." 

She smiled knowingly, enjoying the distraction as much as the friendly banter between the boys.

"Do I need to remind you how you met your girlfriend, Rowan?" Dorian grinned back, lifting a foot to poke at the other's leg.

Rowan—she supposed—tensed and clenched his jaw, slapping Dorian's foot away, "Please, don't."

Elide's interest was piqued, so much so that she wanted to ask questions, but Lorcan's voice called for her from the kitchen.

She waved at the others, "Wish me good luck." 

A chorus of good luck rose from the couches.

"Sorry," she said as she sauntered in the small kitchen, "I got stopped."

Lorcan gestured at her to turn around, "Don't mind them, they're all jerks."

"I like them," she shrugged as she positioned in front of him. "Plus, you're the one hanging out with them, if you really thought that, I don't think you'd be here." 

His fingers slipped under the fabric on her back and something coarse scratched at her skin.

"It's paper, so you don't get oily," he warned. 

"Oh," she was surprised. By the small kind gesture, and by the reaction her body was having to the infinitely unimportant brush of his touch. "Thanks."

"No prob," he drawled, his voice traveling over the back of her neck.

Elide scrunched her nose. What was she doing?

"Would you mind leaning forward a bit for me, 'lide?" 

'Lide.

She was going to die. 

You're not, Manon's voice sounded amused in her head as she obeyed. 

They went through the process again, just for the zipper to not even budge.

He cleaned the metal, wiping it until it was dry enough that it wouldn't dirty her. 

She turned to face him again and he bent his head to the side, scratching his jaw.

"Can I cut it?"

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, "No, it's my work uniform, you can't cut it." 

He stared at her for the longest time, then went, "Are you wearing a bra?" 

What?

Someone laughed from the other room, "Smooth, Slavaterre. Really smooth." 

Lorcan huffed, running a hand down his face, "I was wondering if we could take it off from the head. You know, like a shirt."

Elide suddenly felt stupid. She blushed lightly and muttered, "I didn't think of it." 

"So?"

It was her turn to stare at him, in silence, contemplating her next move. 

The way his gaze didn't falter for half a second gave her a kind of confidence she rarely possesses these days.

She shook her head, "Yes, I am." 

"Do you think you can do it by yourself?"

She nodded.

Lorcan hummed, "I guess my part is done here, then." 

"I guess," she replied, never stepping back from the staring contest. 

When his eyes slid lower, slowly, to her mouth, she smirked. He mimicked her, and his tongue came out to wet his plump lip.

It wasn't her style, not really how she found hookups, but Lorcan was attractive and seemed to be really appreciative of whatever he was seeing in her. 

"What if," she added, speaking so softly that only he could hear her, "I get stuck?" 

Something glimmered in his eyes, and he took a step forward. The movement forced her head further back and when his hand lifted to play with the hem of her sleeve, her arms covered in goosebumps. 

"I could help with that," he rasped, caressing her shoulder. He ran a finger down her collarbone and Elide took a sharp breath in. 

Their eyes met again and she swallowed. 

"Then I'll make sure to call you, if it comes to that." 

Lorcan's lips curled again, tempting, "I would love that." 

Fenrys' scream came sharp as a needle, bursting their bubble of tension and longing. 

"Don't you dare make out in my kitchen!" 

Elide averted her gaze, pushing her tongue against her cheek to avoid laughing. She really liked these people.

Lorcan stepped back until a good two meters distanced them and then inhaled, extending a hand toward the living room. 

She walked out of the kitchen first, heading directly for the front door. 

She spared a long look at Lorcan, letting him see the sincerity behind her next words, "You know where to find me, Salvaterre, if you ever need company." 

She loved the taste of his name on her tongue.

He smirked, taking his stance next to the kitchen door. He nodded his head once, clearly letting her know he would take up on her words. 

She didn't even look at the rest of the guys as she said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

She was halfway down the corridor when shouts and cheers exploded from Fenrys' flat.

Oh, just how fast things had changed.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @gwynethhberdara @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @tangledinmysoul @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @imagine-me @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #tog fic #meet cute #ill try to write some smut as a second part i swear

[zairaalbereo]

Everything feels different now. Disconnected. As if the whole world made one step to the right when Joe took one left, and now he doesn’t fit anymore. There is a no man's land between him and the world, and he no longer holds a passport to the Life Before.

— Chapter 2 of “The Ghost of You”

#the old guard #tog fanart #tog fic #tog fanfic #immortal husbands #kaysanova #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #joe/nicky #my wrtitng #my art

[peri-helia]

Take it easy with me, please

In lieu of the New Year drabble I haven't finished, here is a Joe x Nicky slice of life drabble where the title inexplicably comes from ABBA. Taken from this prompt list: cooking together

“I love you more than life itself, but fuck off”

Joe snorted on a laugh, a hand coming up to cover one of Nicky’s that is cradling his face. It’s a line he’s heard from his beloved’s mouth so many times before. He remembers it from the first argument, proper argument, that they’d had since they’d become lovers. And so many others since. Probably none more than this.

“But I want to help” he insists.

Nicky’s lovely eyes kindle warmly, mouth ticking up in one corner the way it does when he’s trying not to laugh. Joe knows no map better than he does Nicolo di Genova’s face.

“I know you do, hayati. And I love you for that. But this,” Nicky gestures behind them, “is not what one would call helping”

Joe plays along, mouth dropping into an enquiring ‘o’, eyebrows raising. “What would ‘one’ call it, tesoro?”

“Getting in my fucking way”

Joe can’t hold back anymore, he ruptures into laughter. Abandons the pots and pans he'd been starting to wash to pull Nicky into a soapy kiss. They both get lost in it a little, while the others are in the other room. They pull at each other, hair and shirts. Nicky bites at Joe’s plush lower lip, the way he’s wont to. Joe’s hands slip under Nicky’s t-shirt, the hem pulled free from the constricting ties of his apron up to press at Nicky’s shoulder blades, leave marks that will fade a split second after they’re made.

Nicolo is a tolerant man but if there is one thing he cannot stand, it is someone trying to help him cook.

Joe pulls away first, delighting in the way Nicky chases his mouth, at having made him forget the holds of life, beyond love and desire. Many a pot has bubbled over because of Joe and he holds each time a personal success.

“Should I disappear from your sight?” Joe asks with a contented sigh, patting Nicky on the chest, smoothing a non-existent rumple from the fabric of his t-shirt.

Nicky smiles, that gorgeous, rakish grin that Joe loves best. “Another hour would be perfect”

When Nicky is in the kitchen, it is to be himself, his ingredients and the battered old radio crooning terrible love songs The rest of them are expected to involve themselves only if they want a glass of water or to have a spoon shoved under their nose to check the seasoning.

“I’ll just-“ Joe reaches over to the corner of the worktop, where his hoodie sits beside the eggs and the other groceries not yet put away, “get out of your way”

He winces when he hears the tiny crackle of the bag of Doritos under the fabric, even as he carefully off-sets the weight of the jar of salsa in the right hand inner pocket. Joe was so the wrong person for this job. He knew he should have gone with paper over scissors. 

He’d be sent to do recon, because they were, with all the love in the world, starving. Another hour. Quynh already had Domino’s on speed dial. It’s not that they won’t eat what Nicky’s so lovingly cooking – he always relishes his turn to cook – especially now that they are all together once more. They will savour it. It’s just that like so many things with immortality; their healing, refractory periods, hair growth – they burn a lot of calories and coming back to life is hungry work. They put Hobbits to shame with the size of their second breakfasts and elevenses. Brunch as well as lunch, supper after dinner.

Hence the crisps and dip. Nile had pleaded. Begged.

Joe holds his breath as he looks up from under his lashes at Nicky. His beloved is singing away under his breath, swaying his shoulders as he bangs the wooden spoon on the lip of the saucepan.

He gathers the hoodie tighter, to stop the bag falling out by a loose corner. Another treacherous crinkle of the paper. Fuck. What did they make these bags of anyway?

Turning as nonchalantly as he can, Joe starts to walk towards the door. Then, as it comes over the radio he sings along, "Take your time, make it slow"

Nicky remains, a smile slipping over his face as he stands by the stove, as he too sings along under his breath. Joe can barely believe it when he gets away with it, slipping out and just as casually pushing the kitchen door to before haring up the rickety stairs as quickly as his feet can carry him.

“Make your fingers soft and light,” Nicky huffs on a laugh as he stirs the casserole, listening to Yusuf make off with ill-gotten gains, reaching into the pocket of his apron. “Let your body be the velvet of the night,” the half eaten brownie he’d cut from the tray is a little squashed from being in his pocket when Joe embraced him, but Nicky wouldn’t have it any other way. “Touch my soul, you know how” he warbles, savouring the gooey chocolate, “Andante, Andante Andante, Andante, go slowly with me now”  

#my writing #tog drabble #kaysanova #joe x nicky #the old guard #tog fic #tog drabbles

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, sixty-eight

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: I said I was back, and I meant it! Anyway, if you haven't read the last update, this is the second update this week. That's right. New Chapters 67 and 68. NSFW-ish warning.

Aelin was exactly seven minutes early to her interview. She’d spent the last week emptying her closet and putting together the perfect outfit – a sweater dress, tights, and boots that were just the right level of put together – and mapping out exactly how long it would take to get to Xavier’s house, so she could feel the most prepared walking in. She would not be late to the most important meeting of her life. No way.

She slid out of the jeep and waved goodbye to Rowan, who promised to be waiting at the closest coffee shop until she was ready to be picked up. She assumed it’d be around thirty minutes, but she honestly had no idea how long this interview would take. It wasn’t like she had any experience. Looking around, Aelin took a deep breath and took her first step down the long driveway and toward her future. She gained confidence with each step, feeling her stride lengthen and solidify as her chunky boot heel crunched the gravel beneath it.

They were definitely in the wealthier part of Orynth, closer to where Lysandra’s family lived. Sprawling lawns and expertly manicured greenery dotted her winding path. It felt so different than her own tiny street with closely stacked duplexes and shared family homes that she felt a small tug of insecurity before reminding herself that she was prepared for this. Both her dad and Rowan would attest to that. She’d put them through their paces, going over the “best answers” to potential questions that ranged from her favorite book (The Secret Garden — to lead into her thoughts on why lack of autonomy within the disabled communities is a problem) to what she planned to study (an interest in biology and pre-med with flexibility to also take liberal arts classes) all the way to challenges she’d had to overcome and how she’d  personally be an excellent addition to the Wendlyn community. Those were too complicated to boil down into small snippets. But she had the bullet pointed lists laid out in her head, ready to be explained and fully ready for engagement. Honestly, as nervewracking as this whole situation was, she felt prepared. She reassured herself one more time, scrolling through her list of answers over and over, until she reached the oversized front door. In the middle of it all was a door-knocker so large and cumbersome she hoped she could lift it.

Another deep breath. She could do this. No matter how rich and fancy this person was. Whatever laid on the other side of that door, she was ready and prepared for.

She inhaled, filling up her lungs with extra reassurance, but as she lifted her hand to raise what was surely a heavily weighted solid brass knocker, the wind was completely knocked from her chest. Of all the things she had prepared herself for, she had not anticipated this one single thing that could fully derail her.

Before Aelin knew what was even happening, she could feel herself shrinking at the sight before her. She’d know that perfectly coiffed hair and polite smile anywhere.

“Mom?”

“Aelin,” Evalin said, leaning in to kiss her on both her cheeks, surely leaving behind smudges of her burgundy lipstick on Aelin’s pale cheek.

She leaned back and looked Aelin up and down, her crystal eyes pausing and practically flinching at the tiny snag in Aelin’s tights. She’d only had that one pair and even went over it with clear nail polish to make sure it wouldn’t pull or run more, fully assured that Xavier wouldn’t be looking at the side of her shin where her boot met the tights. But she hadn’t anticipated Evalin’s eagle eyes pulling apart every slight detail, searching for anything out of place to berate her for. “Don’t you look lovely,” Evalin continued, though the downturn of her lips as she touched Aelin’s sweater dress gave her real feelings away. Evalin chuckled as she stepped aside, letting Aelin enter into the large dark foyer. 

“Why don’t you take off your coat, darling?” Evalin said, reaching her hand out.

Aelin cleared her throat, trying not to let the slight choking feeling overtake her and draw in a steady breath as she finally got out a soft, “Mom, what are you doing here?”  

If Evalin was fazed in the slightest, she didn’t show it at all. But Aelin had never felt so small. She had worked so hard to put together this outfit, and now that her mom was looking at it, she knew it was all wrong. The sweater dress had been put through the wash one too many times, tiny pills forming in its most worn spots. Evalin would have shaved them off. Or bought Aelin a new dress. She’d make sure that Aelin had a fresh haircut, none of her desperately-in need-of-trimming dead ends left unevenly past her shoulders. She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater dress as her coat disappeared from her shoulders, suddenly feeling naked without it. There was a tiny thread coming undone from the hem of the sleeve, and she knew that without a doubt Evalin would clock it. The woman missed nothing. She should have tugged it and tried to remove it immediately, but all she could feel was shock and horror. Needing something to do, she untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting it tumble forward, but of course that was the wrong thing to do. Aelin could never do the right thing. Be the right way. Be good enough to keep her mom happy. To keep her around, even. 

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat as Evalin frowned and straightened her shoulders back, warning Aelin silently to do the same. As she retucked the thick gold wave behind Aelin’s ear, her furrowed brow melted away, replaced by a smile only reserved for others. 

“Xavier, please meet my beautiful daughter, Aelin,” she said with a sweep of her hand. It took everything in Aelin not to flinch as the hand gestured toward her. Instead, she donned her most polite smile — ruing the way it felt like an Evalin reproduction — and bowed her head and curtsied, instinctively.

Xavier chuckled. “Oh, my. Look at that,” he said as his elbow nudged into the air by Evalin’s side. “Impeccable manners, of course. I would expect nothing less from an Ashryver,” he continued, his tone light as he ushered Aelin further into the cavernous foyer.

Xavier was everything she should have expected but was somehow unprepared for. He was Evalin in male form. His thick blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, swooping gently over his forehead in a way that told Aelin is had taken hours of work and product to get it to look so natural. He was tall but reedy, like someone who spent a lot of time mixing up green smoothies, per his personal trainer’s request. His navy suit was clean and pressed, sharp with creases that told the world he was someone with something important to say. Shiny cufflinks glinted in the mid-afternoon sun, and Aelin knew if she looked close enough they’d be monogrammed with a flourished script.

“But no need for formalities,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s turmoil. “Your mother and I go way back. In fact, our parents’ parents go way back. Evie and I were friends long before our time together at Wendlyn.”

Aelin nearly choked at the use of the nickname for her mother. She’d never heard anyone address her as anything other as her full name, and it took Aelin aback that this man was not only allowed to use this familiarity but received a smile in return for it.

“We were bred in the same kennel, as my father used to say,” Xavier said scratching at his too clean-shaven chin. It was red and shiny and Aelin wished she could stop staring at it and listen to him again. “I can’t remember a holiday I didn’t spend with the Ashryvers,” he droned on.  But Aelin’s mouth was faster than her filter. 

“But I’m not an Ashryver. I’m a Galathynius,” she said. Two pairs of eyes widened but melted quickly back into an amused gaze. 

“Hi, ho. A spitfire, just like her mom. That’s the Ashryver spark for sure,” Xavier said, ignoring Aelin’s growing discomfort.

Because she wasn’t an Ashryver. She was a Galathynius. 

“Who, me?” Evalin batted her lashes and giggled, feigning innocence. Flirting. Aelin’s mom was flirting with this man. This alum. Right in front of her. She swallowed again, biting down the ire rising in her throat. She hated it here. She would do anything to send a fire signal to Rowan to come and pick her up immediately, but, no. She had an interview to complete still. An alum to impress. Aelin could feel her heartbeat quickening as she realized that she still had an interview to complete. That her mom would bear witness to this whole thing. She just wanted to get it overwith and be out of her presence as quickly as possible.

“Can we get started?” Aelin cut off the man, who was clearly surprised. 

“Ah yes,” he fumbled with his thumbs and shoved them into his pocket before taking one back out and gesturing down a long dark hallway. “The study is right this way.”

Study. So formal.

She looked down the long hallway and tried her best to grasp at any of the tendrils of her waning confidence, but it was fruitless. Aelin had never felt so out of place, like such a fraud. Here she was, pretending to be Wendlyn material, but that wasn’t her; that was Evalin.

Evalin, who had grown up with this man, knowing that her future held the glowing promise of a Wendlyn future. Evalin walked through this home as if she belonged there, looking completely at home. But as Aelin traversed the dark portrait-lined hallway down to the study, she could feel the sharp stares of the painted faces judging her with every cautious step. You don’t belong here, they seemed to mock, their pinched noses and haughty smirks watching as Aelin’s chunky boot heel step on the delicate mosaic tile beneath her feet. She didn’t want to think about how expensive these fancy floors were, and the fact that her $20 boots were most likely leaving black rubber smudges against them.  

While Lysandra’s family home was fancy, it was nothing like this – whereas her house was bright and wide and open and modern, this expansive home was dark and crowded with ornate moldings and décor that felt like it could close in on Aelin at any second. She managed to keep her feet steady, despite the long walk down the seemingly never-ending hallway. She could hear Xavier maintaining casual conversation with Evalin, but Aelin stayed quiet, fully focusing on maintaining her stride and praying that she wouldn’t stumble and fall or accidentally break something. Foreboding crept up Aelin’s spine as Evalin fell into pace beside her and smoothed out the fabric of her sweater dress against her back. She could feel her picking off an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder just so she could dig her fingers into her bicep and pull her close. 

“Behave, please,” Evalin whispered through clenched teeth, causing Aelin to stumble, just as she’d feared she would. “Careful, darling,” Evalin drawled in a much lighter tone. “These floors are priceless.”

“You break it, you bought it,” her mother and Xavier said in unison as he pushed open the door to his study. They both laughed as it was something hilarious from their youth, but all Aelin heard was – You’re not one of us. Again and again and again.

Aelin blinked at the harsh expanse of daylight that filtered through the floor to ceiling windows lining the wall of the study. Thick burgundy drapes were pulled back to allowing a shock of grey-white sky to cast its milky pallor over the dark wood room, somehow leeching it of any warmth, despite the burgundy and mahogany color scheme. 

“Ah yes, it’s quite the view, isn’t it?” Xavier chuckled as he gestured to the frost-laden yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. “You can see the mountains in the distance on a clear day. When we first bought this place, the neighbors behind us were trying to plant trees in our view, which turned into a bit of a legal battle. But it ended up alright. We bought them out, and now we have a perfect view.” His voice was haughty with pride at the notion of buying someone out of their home. Aelin’s stomach curled at the notion that one person could be so selfish. But still, she put on her best smile and nodded politely. Evelyn would tolerate no less.

Still smiling smugly, Xavier waved Aelin over to the large leather loveseat where Evalin was already perched. But Aelin didn’t want to sit next to Evelyn. She couldn’t think with her hovering so close — all her well-prepared answers had floated to the recesses of her memories, blocked by the constant perusal of her mother’s perfectly controlled facial expressions. But as Xavier slid into the arm chair across from them, Aelin was at a loss. There was nowhere else to sit. She’d have to sit next to her mother.

As she slid onto the stiff couch, the skirt of her dress rode up slightly, catching on the leather. But before she could even it out, Evalin was there, doing it for her. Always hovering. Always watching. Aelin didn’t even realize that Xavier had asked her a question, until she heard her mother’s sharp whisper. “Don’t be rude, Aelin. Answer.”

“Hm?” Aelin’s head whipped up, watching Xavier face lips tug downward into a slight frown.

“Xavier was just asking what you’re interested in studying?” Evalin repeated, her blue-grey eyes staring a hole into Aelin. 

Aelin knew she had an answer for this. She’d talked about the phrasing with Rowan over and over about why it was actually a benefit that she wasn’t completely sure what she wanted to study yet. That it allowed for… curiousity? Flexibility? No, that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say. The words were completely mixed up in her head, and she couldn’t make heads or tales of them. With every flash of her mom’s eyes, Aelin’s rehearsed answers disappeared further and further until all that was left was a gaping black hole of confusion in her anxiety-addled brain. What was she supposed to say? She had no idea. Literally none. She couldn’t do this. Oh god. She couldn’t do this.

Aelin swallowed back the threat of tears as she croaked out a quiet, “I don’t know.”

“Aelin has many interests,” Evalin jumped in, placing her perfectly polished nails on Aelin’s knee. “She’s trained in ballet and is extremely creative.”

She should have said something about how she had just joined Orynth’s Dance Company. About her time spent teaching last fall, how dancing was for fun and she wasn’t sure she’d want to pursue it professionally but she loved that Wendlyn had recreational dance teams she could participate in. That was the answer she’d rehearsed. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth and brain work together.

“Ah, so perhaps a performing arts major?” Xavier asked. “I myself studied the bard and was in a play or two back in my day. Wendlyn has a thriving theater department. We even have quite a few celebrity alums,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s complete mental shutdown.

“No,” Aelin said. Apparently she couldn’t even explain more than that. She could see the corners of Xavier’s eyes tightening uncomfortably as he watched Evalin’s hand grasp Aelin’s knee – the edges of her dark red gel tips sinking into Aelin’s tights, as the conversation plummeted into a dead silence.

“Right,” Xavier cleared his throat, clearly at a loss. Aelin could feel her stress welling as he continued, hopeful, knowing that her next answer was sure to be another disappointment. Just like her entire being. “Well... perhaps you’d like to tell me about why you’re interested in Wendlyn?” he asked.

And though Aelin knew she had a full essay response for that exact question, she simply shrugged and let him continue his list of questions, each one said with less curiosity as Xavier realized what Aelin had feared: she wasn’t Wendlyn material. And with each question and answer, Aelin knew her chances of getting into college with Rowan were quickly disappearing.

. . .

Aelin had been in a mood in the days following her interview with Xavier and she who shall not be named. But, she was trying her very hardest to keep a smile on her face and pretend like she was totally fine. Mostly because today was Rowan’s first lacrosse game of the season, and he needed her in the stands cheering him on, not sulking about her botched interview. It wasn’tthat she wasn’t a fully supportive girlfriend, but she wasn’t feeling particularly into lacrosse — the sport that was fully responsible for handing Rowan a future that she so clearly wasn’t going to be a part of. She wanted him to do well, but an uncomfortable feeling of panic was pressing against her chest, and it was taking everything in her to put a smile on her face. And Aelin was a lot of things, but a spectacular actress was not one of them.

To Rowan’s credit, he was letting her feel her feelings without pushing. He’d asked how the interview went upon picking her up, and Aelin had simply snapped and said, “Bad.” When he pushed for any more information, she shut him down completely and she could feel a thick wall of armor rising. She’d been furious, practically shaking with anger, but for some reason, hadn’t want to share her mom’s surprise appearance with him. She’d told him that she’d talk when she was ready, and even though she knew he wanted to push, he accepted what she’d asked for. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. She had other things to think about. Like figuring out any other plan for her future that still included Rowan.

Which is why that Friday morning, she donned her green and gold best, tied her long braided pigtails with the #47 ribbons she’d decorated in puffy paints last year, and woke up early to grab a few special treats for her boyfriend on his big day. Before this whole debacle, she’d asked Maeve if she could make a batch of Rowan’s favorite peanut butter cookies, decorated like his jersey, and sure enough, they were waiting on the counter with two coffees when she let herself into their townhouse. She could hear the shower running upstairs, along with a loud blaring bass of one of Rowan’s pump-up playlists, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and push aside any traces of residual insecurity and focus on Rowan. It was his big day, and she knew he was nervous. He always was.

Within minutes, she heard his heavy step skipping every other stairs as he descended into the kitchen where she was waiting, and his smile upon seeing her there temporarily melted away her bad mood entirely. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over receiving that look from him.

“Happy game day, Captain,” Aelin said, smiling widely.

His arms surrounded her, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, as he leaned in and pulled her against his chest. He smelled warm from his shower, and she took a moment to inhale the comforting scent of his pine body wash combined with something just innately Rowan.

“Coffee?”

She held out the cup in his direction, but he ignored it in favor of kissing her. Who was she to disagree? She let herself melt into it, letting her anxieties disappear for the moments his mouth was on hers.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, and she couldn’t help but laugh against his lips.

“You saw me less than nine hours ago.”

“Too long.” He pulled her even closer and went back in for another kiss, this time with more fervor. His tongue slid between her lips, and she could feel herself getting slightly carried away as their bodies pressed together even tighter. Her grasp on the coffee cup in her hand was getting dangerously loose when he finally pulled away, resting his head against her forehead and bringing the coffee to his lips.

“Mmmm. Delicious.”

“Me or the coffee?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Both.” He leaned in and kissed her one more time. “I wish we had time to go upstairs, but…”

“Someone has a game to kick ass in today, and missing first period is probably a bad way to start that off, huh?”

He nodded sadly, but the mischief didn’t completely leave his green eyes as he looked her up and down. “But maybe during lunch?”

Aelin couldn’t control the burst of laughter that bubbled up her throat. “A pre-game warm up?” she teased.

“Always.” He let his hand fall to the swell of her butt, pinching it lightly and causing Aelin to yelp in surprise.

“Be nice or I’m not giving you your cookies.”

Rowan raised his brow. “You baked?” he asked, rightfully skeptical. After all, he spent most of his time with Aelin and he would have definitely noticed if she’d disappeared to Maeve’s for a few hours without him.

“I had help,” Aelin said, procuring the tray of decorated cookies.

His excitement couldn’t be contained as he leaned back in for yet another kiss, but Aelin knew that if they kept this up they definitely would be late for school.

“Later,” she promised, hoping that would keep her spirits afloat.

But as soon as she waved goodbye to Rowan in the hallway, all her doubts came flooding back. She parsed through every second of her time with Xavier and her mom, wondering if there was any world in which that interview could have been construed as positive, but she knew in her heart the truth. She had bombed. Big time. Not just a minor bomb. That whole afternoon had been a full nuclear wipeout with no survivors left standing. She’d killed her own opportunity, and she’d never forgive herself for it.

By the time lunch came around, Aelin was so deep into her self-pitying wallowing that she felt like she was being suffocated by negativity. She’d hoped that seeing Rowan would brighten her spirits, as it had this morning, but apparently that’d been a fluke. She was just as prickly as ever, barely even smiling when he greeted her with a giant bear hug, spinning her around the hall in an exuberant whirlwind. In fact, her mood was made even worse by the flurry of cheerleaders who giggled in his presence, blushing as they wished him luck in tonight’s game. She practically hissed as one got too close, flashing her canines in feral warning.

“Ease up, Ace,” Rowan chuckled as he led her out to the far side of the parking lot where the jeep was parked.

“Stupid fucking cheerleaders,” she grumbled as she slid into the back seat. She was so in her head that she barely even noticed Rowan driving to their special secluded spot — a nearby parking lot that was midway through some sort of construction when it had been fully abandoned. She was sure the crews would come back one day, but for now, it was perfect for their, uh… needs.

Rowan joined her in the back seat and pulled her onto his lap with skilled ease, as if they’d been doing this for years, rather than merely weeks. But it was good. She was on full autopilot. Aelin’s body knew exactly what to do without being in her brain at all. Her hips rolled against his lap as his fingers tangled in her hair, clashing their teeth together in a harsh mingling of breaths and low groans. She didn’t wait for him as she pulled her top off, and allowed her head to fall back as his mouth trailed down her neck and to the bare expanse of her cleavage. Gods, she loved him so much. What was she ever going to do without this? She tried to imagine a world where she didn’t get to be this close to Rowan, but all she saw was a gaping painful hole in her hear heart. She felt her throat closing slightly and swallowed down the threat of emotion she’d careful kept walled up all week.

“Ace?” Rowan looked up at her with concern, clocking the change in her breathing, but she forged forward. She would not lose any time with him. She’d take advantage of every second they had together. Clothed and unclothed.

“I’m good,” she reassured him,

But she knew he could feel the slight waver in her touch as she reached down to his waist to unbutton his pants. His green eyes flashed in warning, but she ignored it, pulling him into her hand and tightening her grasp exactly as she knew he liked it. Autopilot.

Her hands regained their surety as she continued, lulling Rowan into a state of blissful arousal. She leaned in and bit his exposed throat as he leaned further into the seat, moving his hips into her hand. Her mouth opened and sucked at his skin. Hard. She wanted anyone who saw him to know that he was spoken for. That he was claimed. That he was hers. No matter what. She never wanted anyone else to know him like this, and she could feel her pulse stutter as she even considered the possibility of that. No.

She needed to refocus. Without removing her mouth, she reached for the condom he’d placed beside them on the seat and opened it. She leaned back just barely enough to make room to place it on him, not wanting to give him any space. That was the opposite of what she wanted. She could hear him groan a loud expletive as she slid on top of him and started to move. He fit so perfectly. No one else would ever fit like this. And when it was gone, she’d miss it so, so, so much.

“Oh, Ace.” She thought he was moaning her name in pleasure, but it wasn’t until he said, “Aelin, baby, stop,” that she clocked the tone was actually of concern. His face was blurry, and as she blinked, she felt that her cheeks were fully wet. Unbeknownst to her, silent tears had welled and dripped from the corners of her eyes in full, hot streams. “Baby, stop,” he said again, his hands going to her hips to still her, but her autopilot refused.

“No, it’s okay,” she said thickly. “I’m okay.”

“Aelin, you are not okay. You’re crying.”

She tried to keep her legs in a vice grip around his hips, but he was fully in control as he pulled her off of him and tucked himself back into his pants.

“No, no,” she croaked, her tears pouring out in earnest now. “We can keep going.”

“Ace, we’re not going to have sex while you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed as his hands came up to her cheeks, wiping his thumbs against them. That seemed to be the thing that cracked her open, a full sob releasing from her mouth as her shoulders shook with the weight of the past few days. Rowan shushed her gently as he pulled her against him, rubbing comforting circles into her back. But she barely felt a thing. All she could feel was the hot sting of embarrassment and shame.

“Do you want to talk about it finally?” Rowan asked, but Aelin shook her head into his shoulder.

“N-no.”

“Okay.”

And she knew that he meant it. He’d sit there, erection still throbbing in his pants as she cried it out silently. That only made her cry harder. She owed it to him to tell him what had happened. She didn’t even know why she’d kept it to herself. Maybe she’d just wanted to pretend for a little longer that the future she’d imagined for them could happen.

“I blew it,” she finally said.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Rowan said. Her body was suddenly exhausted, and she couldn’t sit upright anymore. Or maybe she just couldn’t look at his face during this conversation. Instead, she slid until she was slumped across his lap and cuddling into the soft fabric of his pants. She struggled to calm her breath as he ran his dexterous fingers down her back and up again.

“You may as well break up with me now,” she sniffed.

Rowan’s hand paused on her back and tilted her ruddy face to look up at his concerned gaze. “Ace, I thought we talked about this. No matter what happens, we’re not breaking up.”

“That’s what you say now, but…” Another wave of tears took over as she sobbed. “What if you meet someone else? Some pretty and smart Wendlyn girl who fits into your world?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rowan asked, seeming genuinely perplexed as his finger pushed aside the stream of tears on her hot cheek. “You fit in my world perfectly.”

“But all those girls at Wendlyn are going to be from upstanding families with two parents whose names are on libraries, and I bet they wear real pearls and have perfectly painted nails that are never chipped, and—”

“Aelin, what the fuck are you going on about? Why would I care about any of that?”

She bit her lip, sniffing back another round of tears as she finally told Rowan about Evalin’s surprise appearance and how of course she couldn’t have gotten that interview without Evalin’s help, tugging on those elite strings. And how clear it became that she was anything but that.

Rowan scratched at her scalp, and she leaned into his comforting touch.

“I don’t use the word hate lightly, but I fucking hate Evalin. What she did to you, surprising you like that with no warning was completely fucked up. She should have told you she was going to be there. Leaving you unprepared like that wasn’t going to help your chances, even if she thought being there would. You deserved a heads up. And the fact that she didn’t think you did just shows how little she understands about life. And you.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s okay to feel fucked up about what she did. But, Ace, it’s not okay to think I’m just going to suddenly disappear from your life if you end up at another college. That’s not going to happen. Never. Ever ever. I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of my life. Forever.”

“But—”

He held up a finger to her lips, shushing her. “But also, one person’s review of you isn’t going to make or break your college admission. You don’t know what anyone thinks of this Xavier dude. He could be hated! They could have him interview people as a barometer for who not to accept.”

“That feels highly doubtful, Ro,” Aelin laughed through the remnants of her tears. “But I appreciate your optimism.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s not over until the school year starts. And even then, it’s not over. Best case scenario, you get in with me for the fall. But there are a hundred other things that could happen before then. You could get waitlisted and get in, you could apply to transfer after a semester or a year, if you wanted. Or, other best case scenario, you love wherever you end up, and we still make this work with phone calls and video calls and weekend visits. Because I’m going to love you for the rest of your gods damned life, so stop trying to get rid of me,” he said, poking her cheek with each pointed word. “It’s insulting.” He paused, looking her over thoroughly, and it felt like he could really see through her in that moment, and she could hear his words before he even said them. “I’m not your mom.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Because I definitely don’t have my last name on any libraries. And I couldn’t tell you what a real pearl looks like if a million dollars were at stake. And guess what? I bite my nails, and the only reason Evalin even came around to the idea of me is because Wendlyn became interested in me. You think that I feel like I’m going to magically fit in there, but I doubt many students were raised by their single aunt and grew up working in her restaurant. I don’t have a trust. That’s why I needed this scholarship.” He paused. “If we’re weighing which one of us belongs at Wendlyn more than the other, only one of us is a legacy there, you know?”

“Okay,” she whispered, but the hurt was still so raw, and she felt ragged from her marathon of crying. She could feel Rowan still hard in his pants, and she felt awful. She went to reach for him, but he sternly put her hand back by her side.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“But—”

“We’ll celebrate after I win the game tonight,” he said.

And true to his word, they did.

#idwtw au #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #rowaelin fic #throne of glass

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: i'm so sorry this one took so long to get out. it's very dialogue heavy and i struggle with dialogue and it was a tough one. i hope it was worth the wait.

rowaelin // 5k words // ciwyw masterlist // masterlist

The sun was barely above the horizon, and Aelin was already awake. Nothing but her ceiling fan and Rowan’s deep, even breathing filled the room around them as she reached for her phone and began mindlessly scrolling on social media. 

Cocooned within his arms and surrounded by his scent, her nausea hadn’t been what kept her awake.  It was just after eight and her body was so used to waking up for work that it refused to let her drift back into a land of sweet dreams. At least Rowan was still snoozing. He needed it as much as she did. 

Upon opening twitter, she opened trending topics to see what juicy gossip was making the rounds today. A few politicians were popular for no good reason, and a handful of celebrities were having their looks celebrated per usual. Third from the bottom, however, she stopped and stared. 

ROWAN WHITETHORN

His name glared at her in all capital letters, a bit of text beneath it reading: trending with Aelin Galathynius and Aedion Ashryver

Oh, gods. 

The trending tag was bombarded with articles from tabloids and fan tweets, the same few pictures circulating along with them. The photo of Rowan with the little boy at dinner was the main one, but she quickly understood why her name was attached when she saw the others. 

All of them were grainy, but Rowan and Aelin were no less identifiable. His arm was around the back of her chair in each picture. One he was leaning toward her and saying something in her ear. She could easily imagine that it was him asking if she was okay for the thousandth time. In another, she was pointing at Aedion with a fork, laughter dancing in her eyes while she gazed at Rowan, lips parted around words. 

Aelin looked down at the tattooed arm draped over her side and the hand that rested on her stomach. There was no way for her to know how he would react to this, especially not so early in the morning. It was starting to settle over her heavily as her phone began buzzing in her palm. 

MOM flashed on her screen, a picture of her and her mother from Yulemas last year bright in her face. Aelin sighed and began extricating herself from Rowan, lifting his arm and rolling out from beneath him. It would be quicker to just move over his body in order to avoid missing her mom’s call so she began crawling over him. 

So abruptly it startled a squeal from deep in her chest, Rowan launched into a sitting position just as her toes hit the ground. With his eyes still closed as he asked, a little too loudly, “Are we sick?”

The commotion had her phone slipping from her hands  and careening toward the ground. With reflexes no human man should possess, Rowan’s leg darted beneath the blanket and somehow managed to catch the phone with his foot before it shattered on the floor. Aelin gaped at him as he picked it up and handed it to her. His godsdamn eyes were only cracked open, what the f—

“Hi, Mom. One second.” She sandwiched the phone between her ear and shoulder, ignoring the huffy sigh from her mother. “I’m fine, spiderman. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m up,” he argued, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Despite his words, Rowan was very much not awake. Squinty green eyes took in every inch of her body as she stood up and started walking backward to the door. She was still gawking at him as he followed after her and rubbed at his face. 

“Seriously, how did you do that?” A sleepy smile formed on his face and Mala above, she wanted to kiss it until it was a full blown grin. 

“It’s kind of my job, love,” he teased. 

“That doesn’t happen to be Rowan Whitethorn, does it, love?” Evalin drawled, clearly having heard what Rowan called her. That little pet name that tied her veins into pretty ribbons to make her heart pound against her bones. 

Shit. She was in deep fucking shit. 

“Yes. Yes, that is Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin replied, Rowan towering over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his lips to the top of her head. It was so short and sweet that she almost wondered if it had really happened as he slipped past her and padded into the kitchen. 

“And when were you going to tell me about this?” Her mother demanded. Aelin could vividly picture her pacing with one hand on her hip and the other whipping sharply through the air as she spoke. 

“Technically, I did tell you.”

“You told me you were sleeping with someone. There was no indication about who it was.” The name had been left out, sure, but she had only known him as Rowan and, at the time,  it was entirely too soon to tell her mother all the details. 

“I mean, we were? Rowan and I are in a… situationship.” The man in question turned to look at her, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Aelin grimaced. 

“What the hell does that even mean?!” Evalin cried. 

“Did I just get demoted?” Rowan turned and looked at her, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Aelin shook her head at him while biting back a laugh.  

“We’re seeing each other. We’re dating. He’s my boyfriend. Right?” She looked at Rowan amidst her rising panic over her mothers frantic, betrayed voice. He walked over, placing a glass of water in front of her, and leaned against the counter. Two fingers swept hair behind her ears and ran down the side of her neck. Something about his touch was a cooling balm to her nerves. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s just… it’s complicated. I was going to tell you—”

“What, when you got married?! I found out from news articles and your father getting questions about it this morning, Aelin.” 

“I was going to call you this morning after everyone woke up because like I said, it’s complicated.” 

“Don’t tell me you already eloped.” Rowan was grinning while he eavesdropped. Aelin reached out and punched his stomach only to be met with rock hard muscle. 

“No! Gods above, Mama. No. Not— fucking hell this is worse than I thought it would be,” she grumbled, forehead thumping against her boyfriend’s chest. Rowan’s hand stroked over the back of her head sympathetically. “Can we switch to video? This is too much to do over the phone while I can’t see your face.” 

The frustration in her words was evident when her voice cracked. When her mom accepted the video call, her features were soft. If she had been in Varese with her, Aelin knew her mother’s fingers would be stroking her hair to calm her down, the same way Rowan was now threading his fingers through the  golden strands. 

“Can you please put a shirt on before I put you in frame?” She asked, watery eyes turning onto his face. 

“I’m a bit more worried about you than I am about clothing right now, love.” 

“You can’t meet my mom like this.” Rowan’s eyes traced her face and body long enough that she sighed. “I’ll be fine for the thirty seconds it takes you to get there and back.” 

“Baby,” her mother cut in, worry clouding her features. Aelin looked away from Rowan as he jogged across the apartment. “You’re scaring me.”

“Because I’m scared. Of everything and your reaction and what Dad is going to say and— all of it is scary.” The worst part was that she wasn’t even entirely sure why she was crying. On a normal day, hard conversations were difficult, of course, but nothing she had ever cried over. Her parent’s gave her unconditional love. There wasn’t a worry in her mind that she would ever cease to be the center of their entire world. These hormones were going to kill her. 

When Rowan came back, he picked up her water and pulled on her hand until she stood, leading her toward the couch. Evalin was quiet and patient while he got her tucked in with a blanket and settled beside her. His face held no judgment as he brushed tears from her cheeks. 

“Everything’s okay,” he promised her, pointer finger bumping beneath her chin. Aelin smiled a little and shook her head before arranging her phone so her mom could see him. 

“Mama, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my Mom, Evalin.” 

“It’s good to finally meet you, Mrs—”

“You’ll call me Evalin,” she interrupted with the wave of her hand. Rowan smiled and nodded once before looking back at Aelin. 

“It’s good to meet you, Evalin,” he repeated, trying her name out for the first time. Aelin’s mother beamed and the anxiety that was creeping and crawling over her nerves paused for the time being. 

“Is Dad around?”

“Right here, Fireheart,” Rhoe slid into view, immediately frowning when he took in her tear streaked face.

“Before you start, I’m not crying because of Rowan. I mean, technically I am, but it’s not anything bad. Rowan, my father Rhoe, Dad, I’m sure you already know him, but this is my boyfriend Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“We’ve met a few times actually,” Rowan chimed in, lifting a hand in greeting. “It’s nice to see you, sir.” 

“You too, son.” So far, so good. Both of her parents were smiling and Rowan was a steadying weight beside her. Somehow he felt more at ease than she did. Aelin just had to get the next part out without falling apart. A deep and almost cleansing breath filled her lungs as she looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Gods, this was ridiculous. 

“We um…” Aelin exhaled and looked at Rowan who nodded encouragingly. “I want to start off by saying that this is still really new. Our relationship and everything attached to it is really new. And I really was planning to call you today. I decided on that well before the news broke this morning.”

“Sweetheart. Just say it,” her mother said, giving Aelin a knowing look. Of course Evalin had it figured out before she had even tried to search her brain for a coherent sentence. Hell, she had probably known the entire time. 

“We’re having a baby.” Aelin’s lip quivered, and Rowan reached over to lace their fingers with the hand that wasn’t around her shoulders. She sunk into him, resting her head on his shoulder while gnawing on her lip. 

“Not planned, I take it,” her father tried to joke, and despite the tears that had sprung free, Aelin laughed. 

“No. Definitely not planned but not a bad thing either.”

“I knew it as soon as you spit out that piece of candy a few weeks ago.” Evalin beamed, dabbing at her eyes with the pocket square she had stolen from Rhoe’s suit. “Are you happy?”

“Yes. Scared as hell, but I’m happy. Are…” Aelin looked at Rowan, “You’re happy, yeah? Now isn’t the time to ask but we haven’t really addressed that.”

“I’m very happy,” he promised, leaning in to kiss her temple. Aelin let out a shaky breath and laughed again, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeves.

“I was an emotional wreck the entire time I was pregnant with you. I’m sorry that I passed it along.” To her credit, Evalin did look a little sorry. Aelin had grown up hearing about it off and on. Rhoe frequently reminded her that she was a spitfire from the moment of conception. 

“The hormones are a bitch. And the morning sickness? It’s all the time and it’s awful.” The only time she didn’t seem to be heaving the entire contents of her stomach was when Rowan was there to soothe it away. Sure, she had been sick a few times over the weekend, but something about the way he smelled seemed to keep it at bay for the most part. Human bodies were so bizarre. 

“You are supposed to come home in a few months,” Rhoe wondered out loud. Rowan seemed to stiffen a little beside her. “Are your plans changing in that regard?”

“I don’t know,” Aelin admitted with a shrug and a sigh. “I’m working every day that I feel able to. Except for today and yesterday because Lysandra put Aedion on a plane. The bastard is still asleep right now, actually, but I am keeping up with work. Usually just half days because I’m exhausted and sick all the time. And Rowan is so busy with the season we only see each other on the weekends. If I come home when I was supposed to, though, I’m sure his teammates and fans would be thrilled if he stopped getting red cards.”

“If you think I’m going to play better while you’re pregnant on another continent, you’re insane.” Her parents chuckled, but she knew how serious he was. Rowan tended to worry to the extreme and her being away wouldn’t help. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get closer to it. How’s that?” Aelin looked up at him and he nodded. It would have to do for now. There was too much going on with Fireheart for her to abandon her responsibilities entirely, baby or no baby. 

“Is there anything you need from us?” Her father asked, concern heavy in his brow.  Not that she could think of, and she said as much. 

“Between Rowan and Aedion, it’s all covered. Plus Lys is coming at the end of the week when Aedion leaves. I have my first appointment next week. I did have a blood draw that confirmed the pregnancy because I was so sick I couldn’t keep anything down. Lysandra berated me into an ER visit. They gave me some nausea medicine that seems to be helping, but we’ll know more about the baby next week. I’m not even really sure how far along I am aside from the basic math of when we met.”

“When you met?” Evalin’s eyebrows flew toward the sky and Aelin choked. 

“Sometime around then,” she tried to save her prior phrasing, but her mom saw straight through it. Rhoe, on the other hand, looked eager to think about anything but his daughter’s sex life. 

“What the hell are you already doing awake?” Aedion grumbled from the hall, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled into the room. 

“FaceTime with Mom and Dad.” Her manicured hand patted the open seat next to her.

“Oh shit, already? I thought it would be this afternoon.” Aedion dropped down beside her and leaned in, waving to his aunt and uncle. 

“Well. Mom found out about me and Rowan before I could even call her. Pictures of us from last night seem to be making the rounds all over the internet.” Rowan’s head whipped toward her, eyes wide and lips parted. His mouth was moving to form words, but before he could get an apology out she added, “It’s okay.”

The apology came anyway, and Aelin’s eyes jumped from his face to her mom and dad’s. Evalin’s lip quivered at the sincerity and Rhoe looked like he respected the man even more already. 

Aedion reached around to pat Rowan’s shoulder sympathetically. “It comes with the territory. Surely you know how famous you are.” 

“I mean, sure, when I’m playing.”

“Oh, you sweet child,” Evalin mused, causing Aelin to crack a wide grin. Their family knew better than anyone that certain athletes tended to sky-rocket into full on celebrity status. The tweets she had seen about all of them showed that tenfold. 

“Rowan, you are quite literally a superstar,” Aedion told him. “You aren’t just huge on the field. Surely someone has mentioned to you that you’re insanely famous.”

“My agent and PR team are always nagging me to go to events and get on social media but… no one has ever really…” Rowan trailed off at the looks on everyones faces. Aelin was holding back a grin, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

“Baby, you’re kind of a big deal. And your face and body really don’t hurt,” Aelin told him, squeezing his hand. “Like people were so excited that someone saw you out and about.”

“I– what?” 

“Okay, I think Aedion and I need to give Rowan a crash course in his fame. I’ll call you later?” Aelin said to her parents, who nodded in agreement. 

“We love you. And we are absolutely thrilled about a grandbaby,” Evalin swore, a sentiment that Rhoe repeated almost verbatim. A weight lifted from her chest as she once again felt like fighting off tears. 

“I love you,” she choked out just before ending the call, and then she was fully slumping into Rowan’s side. Giggles bubbled out of her all over again as she looked up at him. “I can’t believe you don’t know how famous you are.”

“What are people saying?” 

“This one is my favorite.” Aedion showed Rowan a screenshot of his phone. It was a tweet that read: Look, I know we’re excited that 1. Rowan was out for once and 2. That he was spotted with sOCCER PRINCESS AELIN GALATHYNIUS??? But can we just talk about how good Aedion Ashryver looks?

A choked sound came out of Aelin before she could stop it, snickering following immediately after. Of course that would be his favorite. 

She quickly opened the app, letting Rowan scan through news headlines and fan tweets while she peered at the screen with him. Most of them were good. A lot of the fans seemed to be happy about their potential romantic link. A few expressed their distaste, saying that Aelin was chasing fame after falling into irrelevancy. Those made her laugh, but Rowan didn’t seem to find the humor in it. 

“They shouldn’t be talking about you like that,” he grit out. Aelin merely shrugged her shoulders. 

“You can’t win them all. I’ve always been a little polarizing amongst the soccer community, anyway.” Gods, if that wasn’t the truth she didn’t know what was. 

A lot of people accused her of nepotism and everything that fell under that umbrella. Yes, she was a nepo baby. But she was doing her best to make her own way in the world without relying too heavily on what her parents had built. Starting Fireheart was the first step of that and while they had contributed financially, it had been her idea. They just backed it with money when she needed the initial boost. Aelin liked to think that, relevant or not, she was using her name and generational wealth to put good back into the world. 

“I had no idea I was this… big,” Rowan murmured, finally handing her phone back to her. There was an innuendo that Aelin’s childish mind couldn’t ignore. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to bite back a laugh. “I knew Fenrys was, but he feeds into it. He likes the attention. I just assumed that since I stayed out of everything that didn’t have to do with the game, I was just known for playing.”

“There are girls that are dying to be me right now.” Aelin was grinning, but Rowan still wore a displeased frown. “Hey. It’s really okay. It was going to come out eventually and we don’t have to confirm or deny anything yet.”

“The thought of having to publicly comment on my personal life is so irritating.”

“Your comments can just come in the form of agreeing with what I put on social media or whatever statements I put out. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, Rowan. People are going to speculate regardless, and while I would eventually like to talk about us, I don’t have to.” She shrugged like it was simple. It wasn’t, but she would make it as easy for him as she could. Rowan sighed and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “I bet you’re wishing you went back to sleep when I told you to, huh?”

“You shut up,” he murmured, a playful bite to his words. 

“People did find your instagram, by the way. And you’re only following me,” Aelin pointed out. “Maybe today we can post a picture or something and follow at least your teammates?”

“You’d help me with that?” Rowan looked surprised. 

“Of course. I’m really good at social media. We’ll get you all set up before you go home later. I’ll even help you with everything you want to post. It’s not like I won’t be around to help you out for the next eighteen years at least.” Rowan squeezed her hand in thanks, his lips finally tipping into a smile at her joke. A bit of relief flowed through her at his smile. “With that settled, I’m going to shower and I believe you promised me chocolates.”

“That I did.” Rowan pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles as she stood and headed walked toward the bathroom. 

Everything with her parents had gone exactly as expected. The fact that they were happy about it despite the circumstances meant the world to her. Having that support in her back pocket at all times, no matter what was more important than she would ever let on. Rowan blended seamlessly in the conversations and she could only imagine how charming he would be when they officially met in person. 

Everything was still beyond terrifying, but she tentatively felt like everything was going to be okay. She hoped, anyway.

~*~

“I want to talk to you about something,” Aedion said, waiting to speak until the shower was on and the soft thud of the shower door indicated she was inside. Her cousin leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together as he looked over at Rowan. “She would kick my ass if she found out, so please don’t mention it for the time being.”

“I’m all ears.” Rowan had been expecting this. The two hadn’t spent any time together alone thus far, and since he was more like a brother than anything else, he’d anticipated the big brother talk. It had only been a matter of when, not if. 

“Aelin has… Gods, she’s been through some shit. I don’t know how much she’s told you about her last relationship, but it did a fucking number on her. For years she was a shell of herself and it was rare to even get her to smile. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t start acting like herself until she met you.” 

“What do you mean? She seemed in good enough spirits when I met her,” Rowan said, thinking back to the spitfire woman in the bar. Aedion’s head shook.

“Aelin has always been good at putting on a front. We call it her insufferable swagger. While it’s part of who she is, it lacks a certain edge. Being able to rile you up about soccer was likely just part of that,” her cousin explained, scratching at his jaw. “Once she started telling Lysandra about you, something was different. The first call they had after, Lys burst into tears as soon as they were off the phone. Normally she keeps Aelin’s secrets, but she couldn’t even keep it from me because she was so happy that she just seemed normal.”

“I can’t take credit for any of that.”

“Maybe not. But we all think you sparked something in her. You brought her back to life, Rowan. Even just being here, it feels like Aelin, not the person she tried to be to make us not worry about her. There were times when she told us she felt like dying. That she would never try, but she was drowning and dying sounded like the more peaceful option. Constantly she told us how tired she was, and she never meant physically. It was the kind of exhaustion you feel deep in your bones that feels suffocating. But once you walked into the picture, everything about her has been different.” 

Rowan turned the words over carefully, lips twisting while he considered. Aelin had always been the same to him, but he could see what Aedion meant in some ways. Now she was much sharper with her teasing tongue. It had him wondering if things would have been different without a troubled past relationship. 

None of it sat well with him. The idea of Aelin withdrawing into herself and withering away to fragile, dried petals made him want to hit something. That anyone had ever dampened her golden light was beyond him. It took a special kind of asshole to do that to a strong and brilliant woman. He didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Aedion had a little more to give.

“I can’t stand to see her go back to that place. I like you, Rowan. I do. But if I think for a single second that you’re not good for her or the baby I will not hesitate in beating the absolute shit out of you.”

“If you come to that conclusion, I would probably be in agreement. I’d let you.” It was the truth. Might even outright ask for it. Rowan had always accepted the punishments that he deserved. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Aedion murmured, finally relaxing enough to sit back against the couch. The shower shut off moments later, the sounds of Aelin readying for the day filling in the silence. 

When she finally opened the door, makeup and hair done with a robe wrapped around her body, she chirped, “Chocolate?” 

“Yeah,” Rowan chuckled. “Chocolate.”

~*~

While they ate lunch at a little cafe downtown, Aelin had helped him make his first ever Instagram post. It was a picture of him leaning back in his chair, looking out at the bustling city around them. Despite feeling that he always looked awkward in photos, this one looked natural and candid. Aelin called him her boyfriend again and he was smiling when she snapped the winning shot. So far it had amassed several thousand likes and comments. Rowan wasn’t sure what to do with any of it. 

Three dozen chocolate truffles and several bakery items later, Aelin and Rowan wandered back into the apartment. Aedion had let them go out alone for some time together. Now that he knew people were eager to sneak photos of him, he noticed cell phones turned their direction all morning. It was hard to not be frustrated about it, but Aelin’s touch was a soothing balm to the rising anger. If she wasn’t bothered he would try his hardest not to be, too. 

“I probably need to go soon,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed while she shucked off her leggings and pulled on a pair of little shorts. A sullen look pulled on her features as she stood between his legs, hands resting on his neck. 

“Would it work if I said that I want you to stay?” Nails lightly scratched at his scalp and it was an effort to keep his eyes from slipping shut. 

“It would make it harder for me to leave, but I do have practice in the morning. I can’t be late.” Never mind that he wished it weren’t the case. If she outright asked, he probably would stay and then hate himself for it tomorrow. 

“Fine,” she sighed, hands sliding down his shoulders. Rowan wasn’t sure what it was about her touch, but it drove him mental in the best way. The loss of her skin on his was a new kind of hell he hadn’t known existed until he met her. “I have a scan next week. Do you want to go with me?”

“Do you want me to be there?” If she didn’t, he wouldn’t go. It might kill him a little, but he would stay away if it was what she wanted. 

“I obviously want you there. Otherwise I wouldn’t have told you about it. That wasn’t my question. ” Ah, there was that sass Aedion had talked about earlier. 

“I want to,” he swore, fingers trickling up and down her outer thighs. A smile took over her entire face and damn him, he couldn’t help his own grin to match. 

“It’s Thursday afternoon. I can text you the details about where so you can meet me there from practice.” Rowan nodded as he collected the few things he brought with him and followed her out to the living room. 

“It was good to meet you, man,” He told Aedion, the two bumping fists casually. Aelin was smiling while she watched, her fingers covering her mouth like an eager child. 

“Hopefully I can make the trip over here again soon.” Rowan would genuinely enjoy that. Aedion seemed cool and cared so much about his cousin that he doubted he would ever have anything negative to say about the man. 

Aelin led him to the front door, their loosely linked fingers swinging between them. Unable to help himself, he pushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes hid a secret smile as she gazed up at him. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I’ll see you Thursday, then?”

Rowan nodded, “And I’ll talk to you every day in between.” It felt a little cheesy to say it out loud, but Aelin’s smile was enough to chase away the self consciousness he felt.

She stopped him with a hand around his wrist as he turned to open the door. When he turned back to look at her, Aelin rocked up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He had a feeling she knew it was a teasing move. Those brilliant turquoise and gold eyes confirmed it when she pulled away, mirth swimming in their depths. Such a cruel, beautiful thing she was. 

“Drive safe,” she said, one more little smile shared between them before he walked out the door and began his short trip back to Doranelle. 

if your tag is bold, it wouldn't let me tag you.

@fancysludgeshoelamp @kritical24 @readandlisten @icantfindmychashma @westofmoon @helwanderer @latenighthazymusings @lululululululuop @rowanaelinn @drywhiskers @constant-disappointment-and-gay @throneofus7 @princess-rumi-blog1 @the-regal-warrior @holdthefrickup @baby-babayaga @althelkingshorses @empress-ofbloodshed-writing @earthtolinds @lunadorned @adrianaslv @lunarwitch25 @superspiritfestival @larisssss @renxzs  @1islessthan3books @darknessofoceans @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @aelinchocolatelover @besiber24 @s-uppertime @livingmylifeforme @tothestarsandwhateverend @kritical24 @sleeping-and-books @carranam-mates @fireheart-violet @aelinchocolatelover   @basicbittywitty  @goddess-aelin @shyvioletcat @punkassbookjockey26

#CIWYW #ciwyw10 #call it what you want #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fluff #fluff #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfic #tog fic #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #soccer au #baby fic #rowaelin baby fic

[non-un-topo]

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word count: 12,872

Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Introspection, Aftermath of Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Nile Freeman is a badass, Fist Fights, Catharsis, Background Joe/Nicky, Canon-Typical Violence, Fanservice, overuse of italics

Summary:

She lands on one foot, then swings her heel around to meet his face. It’s becoming her signature move — the crowd is expecting it. They shout. As she spins with it she sees the shine of their greasy faces, bills waving above heads, mouths opening wide to cheer for Lazarus! The man hits the ground, and as she twists and catches herself her crucifix kisses her cheek.

#sage writes #the old guard #tog fic #eyy i finished something

[rowaelinsdaughter]

could i request rowaelin x reader, fluff where she has a horrible nightmare about them and they reassure her that it never happened and they just cuddle up with her PLS WIFEY🧎🏽‍♀️💔💗

NIGHTMARE

WARNINGS;; written in 3rd person, nightmares, blood, whip, trowing up, KOA SPOILERS

she woke up  in another room. not the one she loved in the orynth castle. no. she was in a room that she hated and that sometimes, hunted her dreams. 

she knew that chair. it was the same chair where her father had chained her mother, forcing  her to watch how he whipped her. she wore the scars, the same one’s aelin had once on her back. aelin. her mate, and rowan. they were her mates.

she looked for them in the room, but it was too dark, so dark that she couldn’t see her feet. but then a faint light appeared in front of her. blood. so much blood that it looked like valg blood, a sound, a whip sound. the light grew stronger, and in front of her…

“no” she whispered “no, no, no, no,...” 

she tried to break the chains, but it was impossible, she was forced to watch as her father whipped rowan. his arms were bound to the roof with iron chains, so he couldn’t use his powers to defend himself… and aelin. because aelin… she didn’t want to look to the ground, knowing what she was going to see, but a hand grabbed her neck and forced her to look at the ground.

a scream ripped her throat.

aelin was on the ground. a thin nightgown covered her body, or had covered her body, she couldn’t see her face, the iron mask she once carried, was hiding her beautiful features. and her back… she let her guts out to the floor. there was so much blood, so many wounds from the whip, she couldn’t even see the tattoo rowan inked on her. the hand on her neck tightened. 

“let’s have some fun” she felt  his wicked smile. 

she started screaming again. a distant voice was calling her name, but she couldn’t hear it. the voice was approaching, her name more clear now… 

she woke up again. this time there wasn’t blood, her father wasn’t there, she wasn’t chained to the chair, and her mate’s… 

a cold wind tried to calm her, she knew that wind and the scent that lingered with it… rowan.

a soft voice called her name… aelin. 

but the nightmare… she got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, but it was too far. she fell to her knees, throwing up again, and again. two pairs of hands were rubbing her back, the same cold wind tried to calm her. once she was done, aelin grabbed her arms pulling her to her body, wrapping her body with her. rowan hugged both of them. and then she started crying again. 

minutes, hours… she didn’t know how much time had passed until she calmed down enough to talk, or not. 

“you want to talk about it?” aelin said. her voice soft, as if she would disappear if she raised her voice. she looked at her, and aelin felt her heart ache, there was so much pain in those eyes… she took her hand, playing with the ring she wore when they married, the same rowan and she wore. 

“you were dead” rowan and aelin tensed. “and rowan… was nearly dead. he… he whipped you, both of you, and…” she sobbed “and i was chained to the chair, i couldn’t move, i couldn’t do anything to save you. you were wearing the mask and your back… there was so much blood, i-” she didn’t finish. 

rowan grabbed her by the legs and shoulders, laying her down on the bed again. his arm was on her waist and aelin traced patterns on her arm. when she was more calm, rowan murmured. “we aren’t going to leave, doll. you hear me?? we are going to be here for you, we are going to live for a thousand years with you, and if something happens, we will find you. we will always find you angel. always.” he kissed her forehead. she turned in his arms so she was facing aelin, a silver line in her eyes. 

“can you tell me the story?” aelin didn’t ask what story she was asking for.

“of course angel” she grabbed her hand, and she felt rowan behind her, moving closer to her body.

“once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess, who loved her kingdom very much…” 

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies

#sjm books #sarah j maas #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin x f!reader #aelin x you #aelin x reader #rowan x you #rowan x reader #rowaelin x you #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #tog fluff #tog x reader #tog fic

[shallyne]

I Was Reminiscing Just The Other Day

Another fic for @throneofglassmicrofics!! Thanks to my mom this time fore choosing the prompts: Hope and Luck.

Words: around 500

It's been four hours and Aelin was far from tired. When she had awoken that morning, the urge to go shopping in the shops of Orynth had overcome her. So naturally, she had dragged Rowan out of bed, baited him with the best coffee the city had to offer and went on her way. He had barely uttered more than 10 words until Aelin had pushed the coffee in his hands and although Rowan wasn't a very talkative person at all, it finally hadn't felt like she was talking to him in his hawk form, when he couldn't reply at all. 

The weather mirrored Aelin’s mood, it was warm and the sun was shining brightly, no cloud in sight. She was just finishing the last of her chocolate croissant, happily humming to the tune of a street musician as she wiped crumbs from her blouse. 

After being parted from her home for over a decade, this morning had felt the closest to normal since she took her place as the rightful Queen of Terrasen. The city was abuzz with life and laughter, bustling with her people. 

A look to her right told her that Rowan was watching the city around him, too, with his second cup of coffee in one hand and her shopping bags in the other, and she would have thought he was trying to be alert for any danger if it wasn't for his expression. Calm. Serene. Full of wonder. And when three kids ran past them, only avoiding a crash because Rowan sidestepped him, he chuckled, his eyes shining brightly. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aelin asked curiously. 

Rowan turned his head towards her. He sighed and looked away, scanning the crowd they walked through. Aelin didn't expect he'd answer, giving him space with whatever he was thinking about, when he replied, “I'm thinking that we are very lucky to be able to walk these streets. Together.”

Aelin hadn't expected that answer, although she should have. Chuckling, she lightly punched his arm, “Are you getting soft with old age?”

Her mate rolled his green eyes, looking down on her with his grumpy fae male expression, “You're lucky I have my hands full or I'd help that attitude.”

Linking their arms together, she leaned closer and said silently, so only Rowan could hear, “If you check your attitude, maybe you will get lucky later.”

1:0 for Aelin, she thought when his eyes darkened, the words landing with their intended effect. She wriggled her eyebrows when his steps became slower. 

“Let's get chocolate cake, then we go home.” she said. 

“You just had a croissant.” Rowan complained. 

Aelin shrugged, “You're never too full for chocolate cake.” she replied, taking his hand and pulling him into the next bakery. 

She hadn't told him that he was right, that they were extremely lucky to walk these streets, to watch it being built up again after the war. That she could hear children's laughter in the streets, and music, that she had the privilege to shop with her mate. 

Aelin had prayed for this. 

She had hoped for this, and she was rewarded.

#throne of glass #tog #throne of glass microfics #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fan fiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fic #tog fanfiction #tog fan fiction #tog fanfic #tog fic #microfic

[shadowdaddies]

I loved your headcannons on the Mass men taking care of reader while sick! I read them while recovering from surgery.

May I humbly request one with Lorcan? He's my favorite.

Thank you, love! I'm wishing you a speedy recovery💜

A/N: I can't believe I didn't include Lorcan in the other HCs, he's canonically one of the most caring SJM partners (source: cutting up his shirt, which lives in my head rent free)

Lorcan Taking Care of You When You're Sick: Headcanons

• Lorcan would be so attentive to your needs, he would know when something is wrong before you do

• By the time you feel the slightest bit of pain or discomfort, he’s already there with medicine and warm tea

• He wouldn’t let you lift a finger, piling the softest blankets over you in bed

• But you’d complain that you’re still cold, and he’d get the hint… he’d give you his shirt for some extra warmth, getting under the covers with you for even more comfort

• Like I said earlier, you wouldn’t lift a finger. Lucky for you that Lorcan is 7 ft tall and can easily carry you everywhere

• He’s undressing you, washing your hair for you in the bath, wrapping you in a fluffy robe to hold you by the fire

• Lorcan knows your favorite foods, and goes a little overboard making everything you could possibly want, insisting it’s important that you stay fed and hydrated

• He knows how much you love to read, but doesn’t want you to strain your eyes so he’ll read to you, your head on his toned chest until you drift off to sleep

• Essentially, Lorcan is the male that will make sure you have everything you need and more. He’s the perfect balance of not being overbearing while providing for you

#throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass fluff #lorcan x reader #lorcan tog #throne of glass headcanons #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan throne of glass #lorcan salvaterre x you #lorcan x reader fluff #lorcan x you #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fic #tog imagine #tog x reader fluff #tog x reader #tog x you #lorcan salvaterre fluff #tog #tog series

[avelera]

So I’ve gone back and I’ve been reading some Old Guard fic (as I try to get motivated to write the last damn chapter of my one damn TOG WIP finished so I can finally moved on), and I must admit, one silly and very minor pet peeve I have in some Nicky/Joe fics for the Old Guard that explore their Crusader days is the trope of having them go a really long time without being able to understand each other. Because based on Nicky’s path as a Crusader even getting to the Holy Land, and the various hints we have that Joe has a pretty worldly background, I would suggest they should have had a baseline to communicate already when they met and that bridging the gap would have gone very quickly for one or both of them once they committed to learning.

There’s a few reasons I find them going a really long time without speaking each other’s language (most likely Nicky picking up Arabic) somewhat implausible:

- First, just based on my own personal experience: I went through a full language immersion experience myself and yes it was painful and yes, having textbooks and classes certainly helped, but all told it was 3-4 months from almost zero before I could start doing normal things for my age group like read simple books and do homework. However, the most effective language learning program in the country, Middlebury, does a full immersion program that gets people to baseline functionality in 6 weeks. Yes, learning a language is hard and I will be the first to say that mastery takes years and mastery without immersion is nearly impossible, but if you’re completely immersed there, without options, it goes much faster. You won’t be fluent of course but you will be conversational. Also, by all accounts, being illiterate or otherwise not bothering to learn how to read and write at the same time and ONLY going for verbal communication actually makes things go even faster.

- People who pick up by speaking (rather than reading and writing) and people who speak multiple languages already tend to pick up other languages even more quickly. Once you learn one or two, a lot of polyglots don’t stop there. There is that old joke: the word for speaking three languages is trilingual, two languages is bilingual, and speaking only one language is American. Which is to say I think native English speaking writers might be the ones underestimating how quickly a language can be learned (at least to a conversational level).

- Now throw in the fact that both Nicky and Joe have been recently in multilingual societies or organizations as a requirement of their meeting during the First Crusade, no matter how you slice it. Either as both coming from a merchant trading backgrounds traveling across international (so to speak) lands, or Nicky being part of the pan-European Christian army where multiple languages would be spoken across the camp, to him possibly having a priest background which would mean Latin as well. Not to mention Greek if Nicky picked up anything while in Constantinople (if he came over land). Nicky also would have been on the road to the Holy Land, if he went overland, for as long as 3 years and in Antioch before Jerusalem.

- Now, as an admitted caveat to all of this, I’ve lived overseas and it is absolutely common for expats to live in a country for years without bothering to pick up the local language at all. There were cultural and societal reasons that European Crusaders and the Egyptian Fatimids who lost Jerusalem wouldn’t bother to learn each other’s languages or any of the common merchants tongue or other common languages like Greek to bother to talk to each other. That’s absolutely fair to invoke for why they wouldn’t have a single word of any language in common.

- However, I will say, once both or either of them decided to try, I think some writers don’t give enough credit for how quickly one or the other would pick a language up, especially if it’s the language of the country they’re in (basically, I think once he tried, Nicky would pick up Arabic very quickly if he’s still in the Holy Land by the time he and Joe start trying to communicate). Effort plus full immersion is probably the single fastest way to learn a language, you’d be able to have rudimentary conversations within a few months at most. Really from there it’s just a question of whose country are they in once they start talking and stop trying to kill each other.

TL;DR I will be the first to say an author should go with what makes their story work best BUT there’s plenty of historically backed reasons why Nicky and Joe should have been able to carry on a basic conversation with each other from when they first met, and not be completely stymied in communicating with each other because of a language barrier.

#the old guard #tog meta #kaysanova #tog fic

[zairaalbereo]

Room for Love — Epilogue

So, yes, here it is….

a little (1k+) epilogue for Room for Love. 🤭😅

I had so much fun with this story. When I started it, I never thought it would end up being 30 (!) pages of comic plus ~ 8.600 words written in addition. But the feedback this story got, especially on Ao3, has been amazing, and I’m truly grateful for that. 💗

#the old guard #tog fanart #room for love comic #joe x nicky #joe/nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #the old guard art #fan comic #tog fic #tog fanfic

[lovelikedestiny]

It all begins with Nile looking out of pure boredom at Nicky’s ID - or at least one of his innumerable ones -  lying on the kitchen counter. 

“Aren’t Nicky’s eyes green?” She asks and regrets her question the exact moment the words leave the tip of her tongue because Joe gasps and puts a hand dramatically on his chest as if she had offended him personally somehow.

Which is ridiculous since it’s Nicky’s eyes she asked about and said person isn’t even in the living room with them but off in the kitchen, cooking while softly humming to himself.

In the only armchair Booker places a hand on his face as if Nile had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Andy doesn’t hesitate, groans barely audible and mumbles something like having to check that her ax didn’t disappear before disappearing herself like morning fog on a field.

“Green?” Joe repeats bewildered and Nile plays with the thought of quickly changing the subject but she can’t think of anything useful.

Great.

“You’re asking if Nicky’s eyes are green?”

With a suffering, long-drawn sigh Booker fishes for the remote control, increasing the volume of his soccer (football, Nile corrects inwardly due to several former and appalled protests of the boys) game which doesn’t seem to bother Joe in the slightest.

“Mon dieu, here we go again…”

“Uh…yeah? His ID states that his eyes are blue and I just wondered because they appear to be green,” Nile tries to explain her question.

“Blue?” Joe raises his eyebrows and Nile almost expects to get into her first real argument with one of her new team members but to her relief - apparently having dodged a bullet there - he only smiles fondly. “My dear Nile, you will notice it’s impossible to pin Nicky’s eye color down to a single shade. On paper the mirrors of his kind soul are always forced into dullness unworthy of their true beauty.”

Whatever Nile had assumed to get as an answer to her question, it is absolutely not this indirect declaration of love from Joe to Nicky who - again - is not even in the same room to hear that.

While her curiosity is piqued and she is strangely moved by the crystal clear affection for the love of his life, illuminating Joe’s face, Booker turns off the TV, obviously having given up on his attempt to ignore the situation.

“Andy, do you need help checking on your ax?” He calls as he rises. 

“Get your own excuse!” Andy yells back and Booker looks at Nile and Joe.

“Andy needs help with her ax, so I’m going to…help her with her…uhm…ax,” he ends awkwardly. Entering the hallway, Nile can hear him mutter: “You can do better than that, Sebastien. You imbécile.”

“Impossible?” Her attention returns to Joe who invites her to sit down next to him with a light tilt of his head. She willingly follows his request, unceremoniously plopping down on the sofa. “Even after all these years?”

“Especially after all these years,” is Joe’s mysterious reply. Thankfully he elaborates on his statement without Nile having to require more information. “I know it’s hard to believe but even after more than 900 years Nicky and I still discover new habits of each other: certain preferences, a change in particular movements, new interests or the urge to try out a different hobby. But most and for all we are still able to see beauty in mundane things like waking up in the same bed, sharing a cup of coffee or taking a stroll through parks. Nearly a millennium ago I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me that I’d love someone with every fiber of my being, so much that it would hurt to breathe sometimes, although I would’ve spent centuries with them. It is difficult to verbalize this feeling of deep connection ingrained in the bond I have with Nicky.”

The devotion to Nicky - unquestioningly Joe’s soulmate - Nile can hear in his warm voice takes her breath away and she only remembers how to suck air into her lungs when they start to burn. Despite the sheer wonder of a relationship having lasted that long without losing any of its mutual love it means a lot to Nile that Joe is speaking to her so openly and devoid of any doubts regarding Nile’s acceptance.

“And it fills me with the utmost joy that I am still incapable of capturing every single color of Nicky’s eyes because it means that there are so many things about him waiting for me to detect them.” Nile admires Joe’s honesty and the unashamed way with which he tells others about his connection to Nicky. 

Infinite and profound tenderness.

“Wow, when you phrase it like that I can totally see where you’re coming from and I’d love to hear more,” Nile says, forgetting the actual reason she started this chat. Her brain is catching on a little too slowly. “I mean if that’s alright with you,” she backpedals hastily although Nicky joining them interrupts their conversation for the moment.

“Andy said you were holding ‘exaggerated and dramatic love speeches about me’.” He greets the both of them with a smile hidden in the corners of his mouth and presses a kiss into Joe’s curls as he walks behind the sofa.

“I would never dare to do that,” Joe protests, winking and leans back his head to get another kiss directly on the lips.

“Is that so, habibi?” Amusement sparkles in Nicky’s eyes which originally had been the drive behind Nile’s curiosity. “Nile, is Joe holding an exaggerated and dramatic love speech?”

Grinning, she admits, “Yeah, he kind of does but honestly I’m here for it.”

Joe throws a small pillow at her but he is laughing, showing off the crinkles making him look even more likable. “Liar!”

 “So you’re not ‘being so disgustingly sweet that one has nausea’ as Booker put it?” Nicky digs deeper. The two immortal warriors evidently have a lot of fun playing this little game and Nile enjoys the relaxed atmosphere.

“Booker has bad taste,” Joe says loudly, clearly addressing the French man somewhere in the safe house.

“Shut up, jackass!” Booker shouts back.

Nicky tsks chidingly and acknowledges Joe’s shit-eating grin with a lopsided smile of his own. “Now that we’ve settled the matter I wanted to inform you that dinner is ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, vita mia.” Joe threads their fingers together, caressing each knuckle with a peck. “I appreciate your cooking wholeheartedly.”

“Not just you,” Nile adds and mentally takes note to look out for the color of Nicky’s eyes.

Her plan is astonishingly easy to carry out once she knows what to keep her own eyes on. 

More often than not Nicky’s eye color consists of various shades of blue mixed with splinters of green, turning his eyes in the right light into shards of seafoam, deep, mysterious teal lagoons on hot summer days, lucious, vast forests or the wide expenses of the sky.

She notices that they seem to get colder whenever something arouses his irritation: an insult spit at Joe on a mission, impoliteness in everyday life, injustice, an attempt to hurt Andy or when someone shoots Booker or Nile herself is in danger. Then the tempting, gentle mountain lakes freeze to merciless, piercing shards of arctic ice and blazing silvery steel, so frosty you can nearly feel the cold as thousand pinpricks in your skin.

If he is sad or in a bad mood there is a depressing gray outweighing the other colors in his gaze like clouds on a rainy day or a raging storm in fall, making them more washed out and muted.

On a mission as they’re in the crossfire Nicky pushes her out of the way, shielding her with his body and an “Uff” escapes her as the air leaves her lungs all at once. Carefully he braces himself with his arms above her and for a second she only stares into his eyes, intensively looking down at her in return, examining her body for wounds. 

“Are you alright, Nile?”

“Oh shit!”

Alarmed by her curse he starts searching for an injury. “What is it? Did you get hit?”

“There is fucking gold in them!” Nile exclaims, unaware that she is completely ignoring his concerned questions.

Confused, he pauses. “Prego? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

But Nile’s focus is on something else. “There are golden freckles in your eyes! Are you kidding?”

“I told you so!” Joe calls somewhere on their right, involved in a fight. “Nicky’s eyes don’t have one color!”

Despite the fact that they’re in the middle of a battle, bullets flying over them, Nile laughs and has to chuckle even more when Nicky shakes his head. “Unbelievable…”

The next time Copley makes them fake ID’s he asks Nicky: “What eye color do you have?”

And Nile goes: “You can’t answer that so easily.”

#the old guard #tog fanfic #tog fic #ficlet #nile freeman #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #andromache the scythian #nile #joe #nicky #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #eternal love #immortal husbands #booker #andy #the beauty of nicky's eyes #team as family #found family #light crack #joe has strong opinions and feelings about his husband's eyes #and so do I

[peri-helia]

Love, Unsaid

Joe x Nicky Drabble. Canon typical violence, Character death (Nicky starts off dead but he’s fine), they hug it out, that’s it, that’s the fic

It’s slow going, removing the sword from Nicolo’s gut.

King Arthur probably had an easier time removing the sword from the stone. Between the constant rain lashing down on them and the constant blood swelling fresh at the wound, the mud that was once this forsaken battlefield anchoring Yusuf where he stands, it is no easy task. He’d snapped the arrows that had landed in Nicolo’s shoulders, the heads have already been expelled by his immortality. When Nicolo revives they’re going to have to reconsider which cause they lend their swords to, coin or no coin.

Still, it is nice to fight together, rather than fighting each other. It had been getting old, in a way they apparently don’t anymore. They are not quite friends, not yet. They shake hands if they part, clasp each other’s shoulders. Nicolo is showing himself to be a kind soul, at his core, repentant and eager to learn.  

This fucking sword.

Yusuf coughs with exertion, throwing his aching hands in the air. They are the only fighters left, only the scavengers, human and bird alike now picking their way through the available lootings.

His hands slip on the smoothed prongs of the handguard, wet with rain and water and blood and sweat before Yusuf swears, bends his knees and yanks.

There is a chorus of sounds, a squelching, wrenching crunch before the sword glides free and Yusuf tilts backwards, falling on his arse in the mud. All those minstrals and bards glorifying battles want murdered in a way that sticks. Flinging the weapon aside, he claws his way back over to Nicolo. Those singular eyes are still more reticent of seaglass rather than seafoam.

“Nicolo. Nicolo” Yusuf calls gently, shaking the other man’s shoulder.

“Nicolo”

There’s no movement. Not even a twitch to his little finger.

He glances down at the wound, washed clean by the rain. It’s healing. It must be healing.

Larger wounds take longer they know this. The weapon had obstructed his healing that’s all.

He’s not dead. Nicolo di Genova, the eternal thorn in his side, the handsome bastard who is his only constant in this world is not dead. He’s not allowed to be. He’s not going to be killed permanently by some jumped up rat-faced shit from England after everything Yusuf tried all those years ago.

Yusuf puts a hand on Nicolo’s cheek, still warm despite the icy sheen of water soaking them through.

“Nico”

There’s a wet gasp that’s halfway between death rattle and coming air that always accompanies when they are dragged from death to life and Nicolo bolts upright. He gasps several times, sucking in great lungfuls of air greedily.

“You’re alright, You’re alright, it’s over. I’m here. We’re here” Yusuf finds himself repeating, rubbing Nicolo’s back of all things. Nicolo coughs once more, before twisting violently away, still grasping Yusuf’s wrist hard before he vomits.

Yusuf’s already reaching for the waterskin at his own hip as Nicolo spits the last of the bile out. “I��m sorry,” Nicolo rasps, the words coming slow. “Arrows were poisoned”

That English fucker.

No wonder the healing had taken so long. Nicolo’s system had been fighting off two things at once.

“It’s not your fault, my friend” Yusuf says before he can stop himself. Nicolo obviously hears him because he stares open mouthed at Yusuf for a moment, before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He nods once, a sharp bob of the head as if he can’t quite believe it. Then before Yusuf can stop him, Nicolo stumbles upright, staggering to his feet like a drunkard. He rubs the rain from his face and stands before Yusuf, trembling slightly.

“How – how bad was it?”

They’re healing has quickened over the years, but worse deaths take longer.

“Bad” Yusuf says. They both need food and warmth. What’s done is done.

Nicolo hums, voice still worn. He’s still trembling too, probably cold. His eyes are big and wide and he’s never looked so young to Yusuf as he does now, except maybe when they’d come back to life that first time around, when everything was new and strange and yet still the same.

If it was anyone else, anyone from Yusuf’s old life, he’d probably have hugged them before now. He’s a tactile soul, always reaching out. But they’ve never hugged before.

“Do you – do you want?”

Nicolo barely looks at Yusuf’s half open arms before he falls into them, arms coming to wrap around Yusuf’s middle. Yusuf jumps when he feels a cold nose bury into his neck.

“Thank you Yusuf” he murmurs quietly after a moment, without letting go.

*

It’s so nice to be held, after years of hacking away across the continents, of lying and running and never getting close except out of necessity to sleep, or shoot or bandage.

Nicolo feels the moment all the tension goes out of Yusuf’s shoulders, so that he sags against Nicolo’s shoulders. He can’t help it, he smiles into the other man’s shoulder. This beautiful man who has opened his arms again and again to Nicolo, literally now, despite everything.

It’s so quiet, after a battle. During, you can’t hear yourself think, let alone hear what’s going on – it all melts into one incomprehensible din. Arrows and shields clanging, swords clashing, people screaming. After death has swept the field, it’s deafening in another way altogether.

They’re still holding each other.

In the back of his mind, Nicolo is vaguely away that maybe this hug has gone on a little…long than may be polite. He has taken so much, he should pull back, lest such a blessing not be offered again.

But when he goes to disentangle himself, Yusuf merely shifts his weight to his other leg and Nicolo feels his fingers dig into the mail of his shirt. Of its own volition, Nicolo’s hand comes up to cup the back of Yusuf’s head.

Well. Maybe they both need it.

*

“Andromache!”

Nile watches as Andy gets literally swept – more like scooped – off her feet into a massive hug by Joe. It’s the first time they’ve been separated as a team, the first time Nile’s seen a reunion after a long period of time. The first time she’s seen Andy all but giggle as she’s swayed gently from side to side, feet dangling as Joe hugs her.

Then its Nicky’s turn and its different but no less tender, the way he cups the back of Andy’s head, big arms coming round to wrap around her. They hold each other just as long, just as warmly.

And then the couple’s eyes fall on Nile. They’ve given each other their hands before, clasped each other’s shoulders, hell even had a thumb war on that really fucking long flight to Tripoli.

Nicky looks at Nile for a long moment and then, almost conversationally, opens his arms the tiniest fraction, intent clear. She can take it or leave it and either way is absolutely fine.

God, Nile’s missed hugs. And Nicky and Joe? They give the best fucking hugs. Just…being lightly squeezed, so much that her aching shoulders finally seem to release, in a way that there’s no limit.

What was it Nicky had said?

We’re not meant to be alone.

#my writing #tog fic #tog drabbles #joe x nicky