#the way I turn around and just see Rowan standing in a corner like he’s in time out

[starlit-selkie]

@thehappiestgolucky your guy just shocked an elder ogre so hard it went straight to the backrooms, this is already absolute chaos and I’m so here for it

[vamplvs]

IT'S WHAT THE PAPERS SAY

INCLUDES -> john walker x reader WARNINGS -> fake dating, enemies to lovers (loosely), former shield agent!reader, canon-typical injury and violence, banter and childish arguments WORD COUNT -> 5.1k SUMMARY -> after a disastrous undercover op, valentina gives you and john a new mission: fix the incoming pr scandal by pretending to date. but the two of you can hardly hold a normal conversation without arguing—outside of missions, anyway.

NOTES -> part 2 is already in the works as of posting this! as always, comments and rbs are much appreciated <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

it was supposed to be an easy mission, but the worst ones always are. there's something insidious about leaving yourself unguarded only for it to backfire horrifically a moment later.

it was supposed to be just a quick recon op, nothing crazy. just you and walker keeping an eye on a weapon smuggler to see if he'll reach out to his next contact.

but the bar is dingy, the people are seedy, and you can't stand being next to walker for more than ten minutes at a time. he's not the type to go on these missions, and you can't figure out for the life of you why valentina would ever send him on this one. yelena or bucky would be better choices. they both have histories with undercover work.

walker, on the other hand, is a soldier through and through. he's always ready to jump the gun, always on edge like someone's waiting around the next corner for him. and when you have to blend into a less than savory crowd in a bar in hell's kitchen, he is all too easy to spot as someone with too much training. 

and that's not even getting into the simple fact that the two of you don't exactly have a history of playing nice. it's not that you hate each other, it's just that petty bickering has a tendency of getting in the way of things—or turning into a real fight, if you aren't careful.

the target—a man by the name of rowan taylor—keeps eyeing walker from where he sits on the other end of the bar. there are a small handful of men sitting at the tables next to his, each one fairly large and wearing a suit—presumably hired guards. they stand out like sore thumbs among the rest of the civilians in the bar, who either haven't noticed how conspicuous they are or don't care to.

you're lucky you aren't anywhere near walker, figuring that two newcomers together is a lot more suspicious than two strangers arriving separately and never once interacting. but this rowan guy keeps looking at walker like he's ready to pounce, and it's making you twitchy.

"he knows something is up. you better get out of here soon," you mutter over comms, careful to take a sip of your drink to cover up your speaking. 

walker hums and stands up immediately, like the idiot he is. he should have waited a few minutes, waited until rowan backed off and went back to business as usual. instead, he's got every eye in the bar on him in an instant.

"who are you?" rowan growls, not-so hidden guards standing along with walker. they've got their hands on their guns—thankfully, still stashed in their holsters, but that's a small blessing.

"no one, man," he replies, letting his eyes scan over rowan's men without a hint of concern. dammit, walker, we're civilians here. at least pretend to be worried. "i'm just paying my tab and leaving."

"i said," rowan's got a hand on his own weapon now, unclasping his holster. the sound is so loud in the now-quiet bar that it nearly makes you flinch. "who are you?"

walker decides that's a brilliant time to let his eyes flit to you and then the target. it takes everything in you to suppress a loud sigh.

and then rowan's eyes are on you, too. you can feel them burning into your temple as you desperately try to ignore him.

the next thing you know, rowan's men have guns pointed in every direction, the handful of civilians that populated the bar are screaming, crying, or both, and you and walker are very nearly defenseless. walker doesn't have his shield, and all you've got stashed on you is a small knife.

walker is quick to jump to action—maybe there is something to be said for his constant edginess—and he's got one of the men down before you've even gotten up from your seat. it's a mess of bullet spray and flailing bodies as you and walker take down the men with a smoothness you never expect while working with him. it's almost nice working with him like this, when he finally shuts his mouth and gets to work. he moves efficiently through them, covering civilians and stealing one of the men's guns with a move you can only describe as clinical. 

you do much of the same: herding civilians behind the bar while walker takes care of rowan's goons and taking one of the men out with a chokehold that sends him to the ground far too quickly for an allegedly trained bodyguard.

then you spot rowan in the corner of the bar, and march over to him ready for a fight. the gun in his hand is trained on you the moment he sees you coming.

"c'mon, man, we've got you," you say with a huff.

"not yet."

you watch in slow motion as his finger moves towards the trigger, and you charge at him, tackling him to the ground.

a gunshot cracks through the bar, and you hear walker call your name over the ringing in your ears.

pain lances through your side as the wet heat of blood paints your ribs.

time freezes for just a moment as you wait for your breath to come out gurgling or your ribs to crunch when you move. but they don't, and you're still breathing fine.

it must've been a graze.

rowan's gun clatters against the ground when you both fall, and you're trying to work him into a grapple. he's strong, slamming his head into yours with a grunt. it sends you reeling back, eyes watering and a wetness pouring down from your nose that you know is blood.

he twists himself over you, shoving you against the ground with enough force that the thunk of your skull hitting the wood floor echoes in your ears. adrenaline can only do so much to keep the pain minimal.

rowan is gloating about taking down a new avenger—god, what is with criminals monologuing these days? one of your arms is trapped by your side, mere inches away from your knife that fell when he shoved you back. there isn't enough leeway for you to use your knife, anyways.

instead, you opt for spitting at him, painting his face in a spray of red. it doesn't do much other than piss him off, but the distraction gives you an opportunity to worm your way out of his hold. 

the cool press of the knife in your hand as you manage a long, jagged cut along his thigh is a comfort. rowan is defenseless, no gun, no grapple.

you finally have the upper hand against him.

but valentina demanded no casualties—something about making sure that the new avengers keep a "positive public image," even though you know the old avengers killed a hell of a lot more bad guys than the new ones have, at least publicly—so you work him into a hold that has his arm twisted behind him, just enough that it's close to breaking, and the knife pressed just enough into his neck that it draws a pinprick of blood.

"walker!"

he grunts, and you hear the sound of wood splitting and a body falling to the ground. when you look up to him, he looks nearly untouched aside from the bruise blooming on his cheek and the limp he walks with. damn those super soldiers and their strength. he's by your side in moments, kneeling next to you, and taking over rowan's capture.

you somehow end up leaning against the bar for support, head still spinning. there's still blood in your mouth, you realize, hot and metallic. it must be all over your face by this point. 

"nice going," you manage, words tumbling from your mouth in a blur of sound.

"not the time," walker replies, "cops are here. we just need to deliver these assholes outside. valentina has all the evidence against them to make sure we aren't on the chopping block for this." the cops? one of the civilians must've called 9-1-1 when the fight broke out.

and you hope he's right.

cops are flooding the bar in moments, asking walker a slew of questions that he is well-equipped to answer. when one of them walks over to you, the words he's saying are fuzzy and distant, and your head is pounding. you just shake your head and point to where you think walker is standing—the motion only makes you dizzier.

you're not sure how long you spend by the bar trying to steady your breathing and blinking away the spots in your vision, but walker ends up hauling you up at some point. he's got an arm under yours for support and leads you out of the bar.

you blink and you're sitting in an alley with walker's face mere inches from yours.

"you better now?" he asks, hands pressed softly against your face. he's searching your face for something, and you really can't be sure what. 

but sitting down feels a hell of a lot better than standing did, so you shake your head. it sends a wave of nausea through you as the world spins.

"n-no, i- i think i'm concussed." your tongue is heavy in your mouth, like it won't quite behave.

"yeah, i figured." walker's eyebrows are furrowed as he continues to examine you, and you think this is the most he's ever touched you in the time you've been working together. "you couldn't even talk to the cops."

normally, that would've been a dig—some way to hurt your ego like always—but when he says it now, it's laced with concern.

"yeah." 

"shit, you're bleeding, too."

his hand drifts to your ribs, putting careful pressure against the wound. you distantly hear yourself let out a small whimper.

"i know, i know," he mutters. his eyes are back on your face in an instant. "okay, we have to get moving back to the tower so i can get you to the med bay," he says resolutely. "can you walk?"

"not yet." not when the wall feels like it's falling away behind you, or when walker's hand on your face is the only thing keeping your head from tipping sideways. trudging through the streets of manhattan like this sounds like your greatest nightmare.

"i'll support you, i just need you to get up so we can get to the car." 

the car. right. it's a block away, you think. or at least, it's a block away from the bar. that doesn't sound nearly as bad.

"help me up."

and he does so without question, bracing you to keep you steady, even when your shaky knees threaten to buckle.

-

"that was a fucking disaster!" valentina yells from across her desk. the new assistant she hired a few weeks ago flinches while you and walker sit in front of her with matching looks of disinterest. "civilians endangered, this one got hurt," she gestures to you like you're dirt on the bottom of her shoe, and it makes you bristle, "and you both got made. i mean, seriously, it's like you've never worked a job like this in your life."

"well, don't send mr. 'i failed drama class' on undercover missions, next time," you grumble, and you swear you can see walker's hackles raise next to you. valentina is quick to cut him off before he can get a retort in.

"if there was anyone else available, trust me, i would have," she sneers. "you two are lucky that you work well with the others, because you have been the biggest pain in my ass. there's exactly one good thing that came out of this mess." she flips her tablet around to you.

on it is an article titled: "DANGEROUS IN LOVE? TENDER MOMENT SPOTTED WITH NEW AVENGERS." but it's the picture they used that gets you.

it's the two of you outside, tucked into that alley a few buildings away from the bar. you're sitting against the wall and walker is kneeling in front of you, hands on your face even as it's covered in blood. it's one of the few moments after that fight that you remember clearly. and you have to admit, out of context, it's one hell of a touching sight. or it would be, if it wasn't you and john walker, of all people.

"and that's good, how?" walker asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow at the photo.

"because this is one of only articles that's not talking about how you put civilians at risk, and it's a good opportunity for some decent publicity for once." she puts the tablet down and laces her fingers together. "enough of the public seems to be convinced you two are secretly dating that it's believable," she says with that smarmy, self-satisfied tone she always uses with the team.

walker gapes, going red in the ears.

"you're joking, right?" you cut in.

"oh, i am deadly serious, sweetheart. you're trending on twitter right now for that, and it's the only positive publicity you two have ever gotten when you work together." there's a wide smile on her face, and it's made of pure spite and cruelty. "we will be capitalizing on this to cover up your fuck-ups. you two are benched from other missions until you fix this, or that bench will be your new home."

"you want us to pretend to, what, date?" walker asks, ears still aflame.

"absolutely." she hands you both folders, and when you open yours, it's a file on him. it's a list of things he likes: his favorite foods, books, movies, anything valentina could conceivably get her hands on. you imagine walker has one all about you in his hands. "study up, lovebirds. the pr storm starts bright and early this weekend."

you're already thinking of all the ways this could go wrong as you walk out. even on the way to valentina's office, the two of you were bickering about the mission. how on earth you'd pretend to be in love is beyond you.

now, though, the walk back to your floor of the tower is silent, to an uncomfortable degree. you'd take fighting with walker over standing silently in an elevator with him any day of the week.

you take another look in the file, glancing over a few of the highlights.

"your favorite book is a wrinkle in time?"

"what? no, it's catch-22," walker says with a furrowed brow, and then he glances over at the file before taking it from you. "christ, this is all wrong."

"so she's just making guesses?"

"i guess so, yeah." he scans over the file for a bit longer. "i mean, shit, this is just the stuff that i've been reading or watching recently. it's not accurate."

you take the folder valentina gave him, and look through it yourself. sure enough, it's filled with inaccuracies. your favorite restaurant is listed as the takeout place you went to last week, and your favorite book the one you've been powering through for the past few weeks—it's a dreadfully slow read.

"this is going to be a disaster."

"yeah," he says quietly, still scanning over the file. there's something off about the way he says it, but your head is already back to aching and the bandages on your side are starting to itch. you're desperate to take a nap to try and sleep it off. maybe you can convince bucky or yelena to change your bandages while you're at it, if only to avoid another run-in with the med-bay team.

"i'll see you around, walker." you wave over your shoulder when the elevator doors open, making a beeline to your room.

he mumbles a goodbye in return.

-

the dreaded "first date" comes sooner than you want it to.

it's, admittedly, a beautiful day outside, and you'd usually love to walk through central park on a day like this. people are out with their dogs, kids are playing in the fields, and couples are having picnics under shady trees. it's nice to see normalcy in new york like this, especially after the way the void rattled the entire city for months.

the only issue is that walker is by your side, holding an iced coffee in his hand. he's close, but not too close, keeping time with your steps in a way that makes you think he wants to run. it's painfully over-calculated, or at least, you can tell how hard he's overthinking the whole situation.

it's almost like he hasn't been on a date, ever.

because that's what this is supposed to be, isn't it? a first date? granted, you aren't really into walker, and you don't particularly want to go out with the guy, but you're supposed to be head over heels for him. you should be all lovestruck smiles and sappy comments, not whatever this is. 

"so, valentina set up a bunch of fake paparazzi, right?" he asks, then takes a sip of his drink like it'll help calm his nerves. you're not even sure if caffeine works on super soldiers, but that doesn't seem to stop him.

"yeah, and we'll probably get caught by some randoms in the park, too." walker hums at that, scanning around the area like he's looking for an enemy to fight. "hey, cool it on the soldier bullshit, okay? this is only technically an op."

"right, yeah." he keeps at it anyways.

"look," you tug him to a stop, and he just looks at you with a furrowed brow, "we're just two friends taking a stroll in central park. the tabloids have to do all the work for us."

"two friends who can't stand each other," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"okay, fine, coworkers, then."

"demoting me already, wow."

"it's not my fault you're bitchy, walker," you hiss with a saccharine smile.

"doesn't mean you have to-"

"stop." he huffs, crossing his arms, a motion made awkward by the cup in his hand. "if you're going to argue with me right now, at least pretend it's, like, lighthearted teasing or something. if we blow this, val is going to wring our necks and throw us from the top of the watchtower. so, play nice."

he sighs at that, and turns to keep walking. you follow after him with a put-on smile. 

in a last-ditch effort to make things seem more natural, you say, "tell me about war history, or something." he glances at you with a raised eyebrow, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "i'm being serious. tell me about it. it'll make things seem more natural if you're talking about something you like instead of brooding over how much you don't want to be here."

"is that all i am to you? a soldier?" he asks incredulously.

"i mean- yeah, kind of." he scoffs at that. "okay, fine, tell me about catch-22, then, mr. military."

"i have other-" you cut him off with a single, cold look. "okay, alright," he mutters, and then starts explaining it. he talks about the background of catch-22 as war satire, about the book being the origin of the phrase, about the madness of the characters, and you ask enough questions to make sure you seem interested to any onlookers.

and it's not that you're uninterested, far from it. when you aren't trying to rip each other apart, being around walker isn't half bad. you work well on combat missions—as long as he isn't the one giving orders—and you respect his technical knowledge in the field. it's just the everything else about him that grates your nerves. the overconfidence, the impatience, the general asshole behavior. 

so you tell yourself this is just like any other mission, just a straightforward undercover op, like so many you’ve done before. it keeps your head on steady—like when walker's response to a question about the book is a touch too snarky and you have to bite your tongue to keep from fighting back, or when you have a nearly ten minute long argument about how only walker would enjoy a book about war this much. he insists that the main character is really compelling, and it's not about violence, anyways, but hypocrisy. you just like pressing his buttons when he gets like this.

there's a little thought in the back of your mind that says, walker sure is eager to talk about this book. when was the last time anyone asked? 

you know you haven't, and that thought stings in a way you don't expect it to.

you know that bob and yelena have been binging kitchen nightmares for the last few weeks, that bucky is rereading the hobbit for the millionth time, that alexei is learning how to mix drinks, and even that ava has taken up crochet. but walker is a mystery to you, and that little file valentina gave you is certainly no help. 

maybe you'll look through it again once you're back at the tower. just out of curiosity.

"walker," you interrupt him, and his train of thought stutters to a stop. "one of valentina's planted paparazzo's is up ahead." 

the woman is so far from sneaky that it's nearly laughable. she's sitting on a park bench with a camera in hand and a newspaper sitting next to her. 

"shit, right." he's tense again, all of that easy back and forth sucked from between you in half a moment. you almost regret pointing her out.

"wrap your arm around me-" he visibly tenses more when you say it, so you change course, "or, like, put your hand on my arm or something when we walk past. just make it natural."

"yeah, i can- i can do that."

his hand ends up on your lower back—a move that surprises you so much you nearly choke. 

"and smile like i've said something funny." to walker's credit, the smile he shoots at you looks very nearly genuine. his eyes are still too harsh, though.

you hear the click of the shutter as you're passing the woman on the bench.

"you do this often?" he asks once you're past her.

"pretend to date someone?" he nods with a slight shrug. "not really, but i've done enough undercover ops for valentina and..." you trail off, looking for the best way to describe your previous line of work—'failed shield agent' doesn't exactly scream competency, "other groups to figure this out. it's not exactly rocket science to figure out the right things to do and say. besides, i want to get back to real missions."

"makes sense." walker goes quiet and tense again for the rest of the so-called date, and you can't shake the thought that you might've said something wrong.

-

you wake up to a text the next morning from valentina congratulating you on the first successful outing. she's quick to tell you it's one of many as soon as you get your hopes up about this being over quickly.

the articles are almost fun to read over coffee and a bagel. most of them are laughably speculative, taking mishaps from previous missions and events to spin them into some kind of romanticized thing between you—claiming that walker "pulls your pigtails" on purpose, or that this is some elaborate courtship you two have.

"ENEMIES TURNED LOVERS: UNLIKELY PAIRING SPOTTED IN CENTRAL PARK" reads the newest article about you and walker's alleged relationship. it goes into great detail about your unfortunate history of public arguments—even mentioning the one time you threw your drink at him at a gala, though that one was a legitimate accident on your part. valentina nearly flayed you alive the next day.

and then there are the photos. the first one is obviously taken from someone's phone—just a slightly blurry photo of the two of you walking—and the second seems to be from that paparazzo you spotted. the third sends a chill of discomfort through you.

you're rolling your eyes, turned away from walker for saying something stupid, probably, and he's smiling at you. it's soft and real in a way you don't expect from him, and his eyes are crinkling at the corners. it's intimate, almost.

the article goes on to describe how it seems the "rivalry" hasn't dissipated despite your blooming relationship. that makes you scoff and shut off your phone.

"morning," comes walker's voice from the door to the kitchen. it's rough with sleep, and when you look over at him, he's rumpled in a way you aren't used to seeing. his hair is mussed, long strands of it falling into his face, and his t-shirt is wrinkled all over.

"rough night, walker?"

he grunts, trudging over to the coffee machine.

"seriously, you look like you've been through hell." this is the first time you've seen him so not put together. he's got a militant way about every aspect of his life, and usually, he's ready for the day before anyone else is even up. this seems out of character for him, even if you don't know him well.

"i'm not in the mood." it takes him a moment to pour a cup of coffee for himself, fumbling for a mug and the sugar.

"wake up on the wrong side of the bed today, or something?" you keep waiting for him to fire something back, but it never comes. he just stays in front of the coffee machine, sipping from his mug like it's a lifeline. "okay, um, there's new articles about us-"

"just shut up, will you?" he growls and shoots you a glare over his shoulder. and then he's heading back out of the kitchen, leaving you dumbfounded at the island.

yelena walks in a moment later with a sly smile on her face.

"the date went that poorly?"

"apparently," you respond with a lighthearted roll of your eyes.

"well, twitter is having a field day with you two."

"oh, don't even remind me." yelena laughs at that, and it's a much-needed moment of levity.

"look!" she pushes her phone into your face, and on it is a thread. 

"proof they've always been in love," the top tweet reads.

it's a series of silly pictures of the two of you—some from the planned date, others from team outings. there's a picture of you laughing so hard that walker had to hold you up just to keep you standing. he's laughing too. there's another that you know comes from bob's instagram—which has blown up since he started posting pictures of you and the team, and valentina is grateful for the "down to earth imagery"—where walker is holding the tv remote hostage and you're damn near climbing over him to get at it.

"oh, come on, i was trying to save us from duck dynasty," you say with a snort when you show it to yelena.

"yes, but they don't know that." 

"well, they're very wrong about us being in love, that's for sure. walker won't even look at me."

her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. "yikes."

"yeah, tell me about it."

the day goes on with walker being bitchier than usual and you wondering what crawled up his ass and died there. when you run into him at lunch, he's cold and withdrawn from the moment you walk into the room until you leave. yelena's eyes flit between you, like she's watching some high-stakes tennis match. you can hear him laughing at something bob says the moment you're heading out.

and then the gym is almost disturbing.

he's tearing into a punching bag, headphones on and facing away from you—a choice you know is intentional, given how he only turned when you walked in. hell, you're almost positive he rolled his eyes when you walked in.

but you ignore it. maybe it's an off day, you rationalize and continue on with your new routine.

the hits against the punching bag are steady as you do stretches with resistance bands—the med team still hasn't cleared you for training yet. this is the closest they'll let you get to the weights or the treadmill until the bruising on your ribs and your concussion heal.

your side aches as you move, but it's a much needed distraction from the frustration of being benched from combat missions until further notice. or it would be, if your current mission weren't actively ignoring you and making it that much more difficult.

he's still working that punching bag when you leave.

it's after dinner when you're fed up with him leaving rooms as soon as you walk in or going quiet once you try to riff off of whatever he's saying.

you corner him while he's washing dishes.

"okay, i know we've had our rough patches, and this whole fake-dating scenario sucks, but seriously?" the look he shoots you is nearly deadly. "we have to at least pretend to tolerate each other, and we did that just fine before today, so what gives?"

"it's not you," he says simply, like that's some kind of explanation.

"kind of feels like it is, walker."

the dishes clatter in the sink when he turns to you. "it's the spectacle, the publicity. it sucks."

"i know, but-"

"no, you really don't." his laugh is almost cruel. "the last time i had this many articles talking about me, i-"

oh. that's what this is about.

you remember the day all those articles came out about him—the ones talking about the flagsmashers and his less than honorable discharge. you remember the way every news outlet tore into him. the things they said were brutal. at the time, you felt kind of bad for him.

knowing that it's still eating at him all these months later only makes that worse.

"but this is good publicity. isn't that-"

"until it isn't." he turns back to the dishes with a huff, scrubbing at them like they're the ones writing the articles. "until they decide i'm some asshole who's conned you into dating me or i fuck up again and then you're on the line."

"okay, so we'll talk to valentina. we'll call the whole thing off." you're more than fine with it, really. especially if it's messing with him this badly.

"yeah, right. like she gives a shit."

and you don't know what to say to that because he's right. valentina would just tell him to get over his stage fright and act like a man.

"then, we'll make this work at your pace." he pauses, turning to you like you've said something ridiculous. "i'm being serious. i'll keep claiming a concussion until you're ready for the next slew of articles. i don't care about valentina's timeline, or whatever she has planned for us."

"okay," he says, quiet in a way you aren't used to.

you're learning not to expect things from walker anymore, not after yesterday and today.

"i'll, um, leave you to it, then. unless you want help...?"

"no, i've got it."

"got it. yeah."

you linger for a beat, letting the silence fall uncomfortably between you, and then you leave him there, still scrubbing away at the dishes.

once you're back in the safety of your own room, you pull out your phone from your pocket and start scrolling through twitter. your entire timeline is filled with yourself and walker. 

there's speculation about when you started dating, polls about who asked who out, and so on. there are endless tweets of just photos of the two of you, and even a handful of fan edits. it's almost sweet to see so many people rallying behind you both—defending you from those who bring up his ex-wife or call you a home wrecker.

you realize with a start that you don't even know his wife's name properly—or his son's for that matter.

that little file sits on your dresser across the room, and you can't help but wonder if everything in it is inaccurate or if maybe there's some truth hidden there.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi would you write an Gavriel x reader fanfic where they haven’t told anyone they’re together yet because they have an agegap and don’t know how the other will react? Maybe Aedion or Fenrys, a younger fae male asks her out and that’s how everyone finds out?

I love this!💜 Thank you for giving me the self indulgent excuse to write about both Fenrys and Gavriel being interested in reader💅

Mine

Gavriel x Reader fluff

The sound of a door opening downstairs had you jumping away from Gavriel on instinct. You had become used to hiding your relationship - meeting in secret, keeping your distance around others - it was becoming exhausting. It was understandable - Gavriel was being cautious in building a connection with Aedion after their rocky start, and he was self conscious about how much older he was than you. As much as you wanted to be seen with your mate, neither of you wanted to risk the progress he had made with Aedion to bring you being mates into the situation.

With a sigh, Gavriel gave you a quick kiss before you quietly left the room, him staying behind as you made your way downstairs alone so as not to raise any suspicion. You strode into the living room where Fenrys, Aedion, Aelin, and Rowan were gathered, taking your seat on the couch next to Fenrys. “Hi, angel,” Fenrys greeted, giving you a flirty wink as he brought his arm around the back of the couch. “Hey, Fen,” you greeted your friend warmly. Used to Fenrys’s flirtatious nature, you were oblivious to his advances as he asked you about your day. 

Aelin and Rowan were occupied in conversation - curled up on the couch opposite you - as Aedion lounged in the chair to your right, seemingly studying a report from one of the lieutenants. Rowan turned from his conversation with Aelin to Fenrys. “Hey Fen, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?” he questioned as he nodded his head towards you, a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

Everyone turned at that, eyes on you and Fenrys as you looked at him curiously. “What is it, Fenrys?” you asked, poking his side as you smiled playfully. For the first time since you’d met him, Fenrys looked nervous - running a hand through his long blonde hair as he bit his lip, eyes flicking to yours. “Uh, I’d been thinking about asking you to dinner, if you’d like. Just the two of us.” The pointed look in his eyes told you that he meant as more than friends, but before you could respond, a growl sounded from behind you.

Fenrys’s eyes flashed with alarm as he glanced over your shoulder, everyone turning to see Gavriel standing at the foot of the stairs, anger radiating off him like you’d never seen. You could feel his jealousy through the bond, watching in shock as he stormed across the room to where you were seated. “Get your hands off my mate,” he snarled.

Everyone’s jaws dropped at his words, Fenrys holding up his hands in a placating position as he backed away from the territorial male who towered over you. “Your mate?” Aedion asked, fully setting down the report he was reading, eyes shooting back and forth between you and Gavriel. Gavriel’s expression immediately turned to one of shame as he turned towards his son. You fumbled for words to explain, “Aedion, we didn’t - I just, with the two of you just now bonding, we...” 

You were at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter as Aedion let out an amused laugh, shaking his head as he smiled at you. “We knew you were seeing each other. I just didn’t know you were mates.” 

“WHAT? I didn’t know! Aedion, you told me I should ask her out,” Fenrys ranted from the corner, red-faced with embarrassment. Aelin and Rowan snickered from where they were sitting, Aelin tossing a chocolate at him. “You were the only one who it wasn’t obvious to, and things were getting boring around here. We had to find some interesting way to get them to admit their relationship.” She turned to grin at you. “I’m happy for you.”

Smiling back, you murmured a “thank you,” as Gavriel came to stand behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders. He gave them a squeeze, turning to Aedion, asking him softly, “you’re not bothered by this?” Aedion smiled, “of course not. I’m happy for you, and even more so that you’re mates.” 

You gave him a bright grin, looking up to where Gavriel stood above you. He leaned down, kissing you passionately - the bond glowing with love and contentment. You pulled apart at a gagging sound from your right, Aedion’s lip curling as he covered his face with the report he held, grumbling, “okay, well I didn’t want to see that.”

You laughed, bringing Gavriel around to sit with you on the couch. He pulled you into his lap, and you wrapped one arm around his neck as you patted the cushion next to you. “Come on Fen, he won’t bite,” you promised with a wink. Fenrys came over to sit with you, rolling his eyes as Gavriel glared at him and pulled you close, and kept you close for the rest of the evening.

[preg-klok]

Tilte: Mama Nathan

Pairing: Charles/Nathan

Word count: 500

TW: none :))

Author’s note: I dunno after watching season 4 ep 7 last night, I had to write Nathan comforting baby Rowan. It’s not my best work but enjoy! Story beneath cut

Nathan used to be a heavy sleeper, at least until he had his and Charles daughter Rowan six months ago.

For the most part the baby actually had a decent sleeping schedule, she rarely woke through the night now.

But something felt off- Nathan was wide awake while Charles snored beside him. Frowning, he had gotten up. Putting on his robe and tying it around his waist, he had shuffled down the hall and into Rowan’s nursery.

It was quiet beside her little sound machine that set off a soft glow in the room.

Maybe he was dreaming that something was wrong.

He was about to turn around to leave when he heard it- the faintest little whimper from her crib.

Frowning, he had approached. She seemed okay, her cheeks were a bit rosy from the mild fever she had been running due to cutting teeth.

But her face was scrunched up, letting out another whimper as she kicked her feet. Suddenly letting out a loud cry.

Nathan jumped and flinched, worried it might’ve been him coming in here.

“Oh come here..” He muttered, gently lifting her up into his arms as her cries continued.

Cradling her to his chest, he kissed the top of her head.

“Shh.. shhh.. it’s okay, I have you.” He soothed, his voice soft. His hand cupped her back to keep her secure against his chest.

Her sudden cries had quieted down to small hiccups and whimpers once more, rubbing at her eyes with a whine.

He had moved to sit in the far corner where her rocking chair was.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He spoke aloud, his free hand rubbing her cheek as she cuddled into his chest.

“It’s alright, I get them too.” He admitted softly, rocking slowly.

She seemed to settle a bit more, yawning as she blinked up slowly at Nathan, her eyes beginning to droop shut.

“Shh.. there you go-“ he mumbled, surprisingly soft as he rubbed her back.

She nuzzled into his chest, gripping onto his shirt with another soft coo.

“Yes I know- it’s late though, we can cuddle in the morning-“ Nathan yawned.

Seeming to agree, she let out her own loud yawn, her eyes fully shut.

Nathan stayed with her cuddled up to his chest until she knew she was in a deep sleep. Slowly standing, he had made his way back over to her crib. Moving to lay her down, he held his breath.

She had stirred briefly at the loss of contact before she splayed out like a starfish, snoring.

He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “Goodnight little one-“ he spoke before making his way to the door, slowly closing it behind him.

“Nathan?” Charles' voice called out in the dark hallway as Nathan jumped.

“Shit-!” He hissed, finally noticing the very tired manager standing at the doorway.

“Sorry, is Rowan okay? Are you okay?” Charles asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

It was 3 am after all.

“Yeah- yeah.. I think she just had a little nightmare” Nathan explained, moving past Charles to make his way back to their bedroom.

“Ah I see. Is she settled now?” Charles asked, he had been hovering around her nursery since he felt Nathan get out of bed, just in case he needed to step in.

“Yeah, let’s go back to bed-“ Nathan yawned, crawling into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out- snoring.

Charles gave a fond eye roll and settled down into bed too, starting to drift back off.

[catboylister]

i joined the fandom secret santa organised by @narlieweek !! so this is my gift for @renskiii-10 , merry christmas :] i hope its okay for you aaa . i do definitely want to expand on this though, maybe turn it into a longer fic b4 i post it on ao3 so if u have anything else youd like to see then dm me bff lmaoao

Lister isn't sure what brought him here. Maybe it was because the flat felt too lonely with Rowan and Jimmy visiting their own families. Maybe London is a lot shittier than he thought.

Maybe he just missed his mum.

Standing in the rain, Lister attempts to gather the courage to knock on the door. He raises a fist, and lets it tap the glass gently, not nearly loud enough to be heared. The door opens before he can try again.

"Allister?" Louise stares at him for a few seconds; shocked, before reaching out a hand towards his cheek. He melts into her touch immediately, not realising how much he missed it.

"How did you know I was here?" He asks with an awkward laugh.

"Saw you through the camera. On the doorbell," her hands fall to his, and she starts to pull him inside, "get inside. You're soaked. Where's you're coat? You'll get a cold being outside dressed like that.”

Lister glances to the side, catching sight of one of those fancy, smart doorbells that people with money buy because they own stuff that is actually worth stealing. They have that now.

The door clicks shut behind him as he stands still in the unfamiliar hallway. It's been repainted since he was last here… When? A year ago? Two, maybe? He can't think of what colour it used to be, all he knows is that it wasn't the pale gray it is now.

The same red and gold tinsel he used to decorate their tiny, plastic Christmas tree, is wrapped around the staircase banister. It was forgotten in the attic when they finally moved house, only for him to be trapped on tour abroad by the time the holidays finally came around. He spent that Christmas with Jimmy and Rowan, fucking about in hotel rooms and tour buses, excited to have three consecuitve days off. Louise never bought a tree that year.

"You must be freezing," a warm towel is wrapped around his shoulders, "go get something warm on, I'll make you some tea if you want."

He nods as he's ushered upstairs, making his way to his bedroom. Everything is untouched since he packed half his things and moved to London. A worn Spiderman poster still sticks to the wall, one of the corners beginning to peel away, and a light layer of dust coats his dresser. Less than he imagined there would be. The same checkered sheets are messily thrown over his bed, completely untouched. He's almost spent more time on stage than in this bed.

Only once he gets changed does Lister realise that the only spare clothes he packed is a loose t-shirt and a thin pair of pyjama pants. He breifly expects a familiar coldness he grew used through winter when he was younger. That coldness never comes.

Making his way downstairs, he hears his mother humming to herself.

"Hi-"

"Jesus fucking Christ-" tea spills over the edge of one of the mugs as Louise turns around. She laughs, "you always do that. It's terrifying."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, you'd do it a lot when you were little. I swear you used to do it on purpose, you're lucky you haven't given me a heart attack," as she speaks, Lister walks towards her and leans down, resting his head on her shoulder. It doesn't take long before she's wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. The way she would when he was a child.

"I've missed you."

Lister hugs her back, mumbling, "I missed you too." He isn't sure she heard him, he hopes she didn't. He probably sounds like he's about to cry. Maybe he is. Either way, he can feel her hands rubbing his back and the way she shakes slightly from standing on her tip-toes for too long.

Silently, Louise guides him into the living room. He leans on her again as they sit together on her sofa, another thing he doesn't recognise. At some point, a warm mug makes its way into his hands and a blanket is thrown over the both of them. A movie he's never heard of plays on the flatscreen in front of him.

It takes him a while to notice, but in the corner is a tree. A real one. Decorated with a mix of brand new, shiny baubles and old decorations he made back in primary school. A clay angel that's missing one of her wings. A crayon coloured elf hanging on by a piece of thread shoved through a hole in his hat. Something made out of pipe-cleaners. He has no idea what that was supposed to be. They look a little out of place next to everything else.

Nothing is underneath it.

When he was seven, he woke up to an empty tree. He had only asked for one thing. A transformer figure he had wanted for earlier that year but never got because apparently more important.

He cried over it all morning, convinced he must've done something really bad. Now that he's older, he realises that wasn't the case. Good or bad have nothing to do with it. The kids who don't get anything are just unlucky.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles from beneath the blanket.

“What?” Louise says, pausing the movie to look at him instead, “what are you sorry for?”

“I didn't bring you anything…” Lister says, which isn't nearly half of what he wants to say. He wants to apologise for everything. For not visiting sooner. For not calling her enough. For being a difficult child and an even more difficult teenager.

“Oh. Don't be silly,” she says, running a hand through his hair, still wet from the rain. Lister pulls the blanket to him tighter.

“Don't fall asleep on me. I can't carry you anymore.”

“I won't,” he says, but he does.

[goddess-aelin]

For Rowaelin, them being dilf and milf

Thanks for the wonderful prompt!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this but I thought it was perfect for Rowaelin Month! This is for day 13: babies/kids/next gen

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin always took his breath away. Always. It was an undeniable fact. The grass was green, the sky was blue, Aelin took his breath away. But standing in their kitchen, getting ready for a night out with her Lysandra and Elide, she took more than his breath, she took his whole godsdamned soul.

Standing by the counter trying to get an earring in, her tight, black dress glittered slightly in the low lights. He sucked in a breath when she turned, exposing the back, or lack thereof, to him.

“Are you sure you have to go out?”

She chuckled. “I will remind you that you were the one who told me to go out, Buzzard.”

He smirked as he sidled up beside her, pulling her to his chest. “Did I? I don’t ever remember saying that. In fact, I think I told you that you should stay home, right here with me where no one else can see this dress.” He accented each of his last words with a kiss to her cheeks, her nose, her neck.

A tiny wail broke them out of their reverie. Ah, yes, the reason that Aelin needed to get away in the first place.

At 8 months old, Alma was still in the fussy stage, especially because she had just started teething. But Rowan wouldn’t have it any other way. She was a perfect blend of both of them, her green eyes enrapturing Rowan from the moment he saw her and her fiery personality already showing through, likely from her mother.

Aelin hadn’t had a night out since Alma was born. Sure, they went to restaurants for a an hour or two, just the two of them. But she needed time with her girls, Rowan knew. Aelin would never ask for it, feeling as though she was being a bad mother or somehow putting more work onto him. So he secretly texted Lysandra to set up a night out for Aelin. And when Aelin was reluctant to go, he encouraged her that she needed a night out. Eventually, she relented and admitted that it would be nice to go out for a change.

So here they were, Rowan taking care of Alma while his wife stood in the kitchen, looking like the sexiest MILF he’d ever seen. When he told her as much, she just threw her head back and laughed, the sound igniting his bones in a way only she could. He loved her so much and was happy that she was going to enjoy a night out. His Fireheart.

- - - - -

When Aelin got home at 11pm, she expected Rowan to be in bed and Alma to be snoozing soundly. She stopped in her tracks when she beheld what she found instead. Rowan. In the Kitchen. Wearing their baby.

It was enough for tears to pop into the corners of her eyes. Fine, perhaps she had a little bit to drink. But these tears were happy tears. Ones that sprout from the joy of seeing their little family.

But as the tears dried, a different, headier feeling ignited in her belly. Gods, who gave him the right to be so Godsdamned sexy? His hair was skewed all over, giving him a rumpled look that made her toes curl. He was wearing simple pajama pants and…nothing else. Well, except for the baby strapped to his bare chest. And Gods, did it do things to her.

He finally noticed her standing in the doorway, giving her a sleepy smile. “Hey, Fireheart. Did you have a good time?”

“Mhmm.” She knew her eyes were slightly glazed. But who could blame her? She was slightly distracted.

“Feelin’ pretty good, huh?” He chuckled.

She just giggled and crossed to where he stood in front of the oven. “What exactly are you doing wearing our baby and…” she sniffed the air. “Baking?”

Rowan’s hand came around her, pulling her into his side while his other hand rested on Alma’s back. “Well, I know how snacky you get when you drink and Alma wasn’t sleeping so we decided to bake some cookies.” He looked down to Alma’s chubby, smiling face, rubbing his nose with hers. “Didn’t we, Alms?” The tiny girl giggled and squirmed, flailing her arms and legs uncontrollably.

Aelin could physically feel her heart turning to mush.

“Why don’t you go get changed and the cookies should be done by then?”

Aelin nodded but lingered a few seconds longer, just staring at her little family.

Rowan gave her a bewildered look, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that was comically similar to Alma. “What is it? Do I have flour on my face?”

Aelin couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped. “No, Buzzard. I just…” She sighed happily. “I just love you.” She strode the few steps back to him and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace, Alma sandwiched between them. The little girl didn’t seem to mind if her heavy eyelids were anything to go by, having been lulled to sleep by a sense of security and love.

“I love you, too, Fireheart,” Rowan whispered. He gave a quick peck to her lips and went to turn back to the cookies.

But before he turned, Aelin caught his arm, leaning up toward his ear. “And this whole shirtless while wearing our baby thing? Incredibly hot.” As she backed away from him, her gaze turned half-lidded. To Rowan’s credit, he didn’t break eye contact with her until she reached the stairs.

It wasn’t long before she heard the heavy footsteps trailing up the stairs behind her, hurrying to put Alma down and then making their way closer to her, probably more quickly than he had moved in a while. She stifled her giggle. Rowan would never cease to make her heart flutter and her belly to ignite. But the best thing was how full she felt when she thought of their perfect little family.

A/N: I adore rowaelin as parents 🥹 thanks again for the prompt!

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire e @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

[maybankbae]

The One Where They’re Quarantined Together

June 2020

Gabriella’s been living with Luke since Los Angeles issued a shelter in place order for the entire state so he suggested instead of her commuting from Orange County from her apartment to his house everyday, just move her stuff in.

101 Dalmatians was playing as background noise for Petunia and her new cocker spaniel she adopted through a friend of Crystal. She named her Rowan. The two dogs immediately getting along the minute she brought her home.

Gabriella got up from their bed and slipped her feet in her fuzzy slippers, her feet muffling any sound as she made her way down the kitchen and making a pineapple açaí bowl she's been craving for the past 2 hours. She heard four sets of paws running towards her as she hit her leg and gave her best puppy eyes.

"You want some pineapple girlies?" She baby talked them. Their tails wagging back and forth.

Gabriella threw three individual slices of the fruit on the floor as Petunia and Rowan ate it and Petunia waddled to the couch while Rowan played with her turtle chew toy.

She heard the noise of a guitar and faint singing coming from the basement. Figuring she hasn't seen Luke in a while, she made him a glass of iced water. Whenever he’s writing music time isn’t a thing to him.

She trotted downstairs trying to muffle the sound her steps as she reached the dimly lit room, The Mac book being the only source of light in the space.

She knew about his life on the road from such a young age. He was constantly on the go and this is the first time in 5 years he's had a chance to sit back and relax. Except that's the farthest thing he was doing. Standing in the doorway he doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, way too focused on the guitar sitting on his lap and the voice memo he’s recording.

Gabriella likes to sit in the room with him sometimes whenever he's been writing and to give him some ideas or just company. It makes her feel peaceful and relaxed listening to his voice. He’s so creative and that’s something she admired about him.

She walked up to him and placed her chin on his broad shoulder. "Hey."

He turned around and looked at her, already smiling at her. "Hi."

"I got you some water." She stated as she put the glass down.

He rubbed his eyes and silently thanked her with a kiss on the lips and gesturing for her to take a seat next him.

She took a seat on the couch in the corner of the room being careful to not trip on any stray wires to sit next to him. Laying her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her back, fingertips brushing against her exposed spine.

“You okay baby? That sounds a little too sad? Even for you.” She asked concerned.

He smiles somberly and almost looked amused. “It’s not meant to sound that sad to be completely honest with you. It’s more of a look into how seventeen year old me felt as a teenager at the time y’know thick into the music industry. I have most of the lyrics but now I needed a guitar riff for it.” He explained.

“Can I hear the full song or whatever you have?” Bianca asked softly looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Course you can baby.” He smiled at her, picking up the blue guitar.

"All this running in motion time slips by till you’re lost in your mind,” He starts until he gets to the end of what he has. Looking up from his guitar he sees faint tears in his girlfriend’s eyes, making him concerned.

“What’s wrong?? Do you not like it.” He quickly asked.

"It's so beautifully sad Lu." She laughed through a sob.

"So these are happy tears right??" He questioned unsurely.

She nodded and threw her head back in laughter.

"But 3 days from now is CALM release day! Aren’t you so excited! " She shook his shoulders excitedly.

“I’m gonna be severely underwhelmed.” He joked making Gabriella slap his chest.

“You little shit.”

——————

Gabriella took the album release very seriously around the house as she bought a cake from Publix and noise makers in the color scheme of the album. She also delivered the noise makers to the other boys front porch’s and a little care package for them since they definitely all won’t be able to hang out as a group for a while.

She decided to be a good girlfriend and make celebratory waffles for all of the bands hard work that finally paid off. On her mind was also a celebratory blowjob for Luke, but he didn't need to know all her plans

Luke smelled waffles and groaned slightly as he pushed Petunia off his leg as she looked at him with a face that read 'I wanna murder you'

He slid on a t shirt and walked downstairs to see Gabriella listening to 'Vapor' as she cleaned the kitchen up in nothing but an oversized sweatshirt and some purple lace panties.

"I want to breathe you in like a vapor I want to be the one you remember." She sung to Rowan in her arms.

"Really? You couldn't have picked something from Youngblood to sing to her. At least thats two years instead of 5.” He laughed at her swaying the puppy who yipped at Luke to get his attention.

"Sounds Good Feels Good was the reason I became a fan so this album is special to me. Plus I went to Sounds Live Feels Live in LA with my best friend and that’s when I fell in love with you so don’t even." She defended.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

“Your voice is a blessing her puppy ears to the pop punk goodness that is Sounds Good Feels Good. I don’t think you should be treating me like this whenever I woke up extra early and made you waffles.” She pushed the plate towards him and a cup of coffee.

———

The band took shifts over their instagram live later that evening. First it was Ash by himself on an iPad, might add. Then Micheal and Calum, yet Micheal’s phone died before he could talk about Best Years. Now it was Luke’s turn.

Gabriella sat curled in a fluffy blanket on their shared bed rewatching Vampire Diaries while Luke attempted to join Calum on his livestream. He finally got it to work after 2 minutes of Calum struggling.

“How old are you Cal? 90?” Gabriella joked as soon as Luke joined Calum, the two yelling in excitement of seeing each other.

“Did Ella just call me old?” Calum’s laughter rang through the phone.

“Sure did dude.”

Luke shook his head slightly, reading the comments of people calling his girlfriend funny and asking where she is.

“Lemme give the children what they want.” He sighed in fake annoyance turning the phone to Gabriella who waved her hand with a smile. “Hi you guys!”

“What are you drinking, wait lemme guess.” Calum asked as he saw Luke’s tequila cup when he turned the phone back around.

“Ahhh tewqulia.”

“We ran outta beer so second best option here.”

“Bit of naughty water.” Luke said in a weird english accent that made Gabriella chuckle slightly.

At some point during their segment they started talking about cake flavors instead of the album tracks.

“How do you not like red velvet cake??” Calum asked in pure confusion.

“Well, it’s not the fact I don’t like it. I mean- you don’t go to a birthday party and they sing happy birthday and then they cut the cake, you’re like ‘eh red velvet cant wait to eat this one.’

Sometime during that conversation Gabriella ended up falling asleep. Luke gathered Petunia and Rowan so they could go potty before they slept anywhere near their room or in Rowan’s case on the bed since she always finds some way to sleep on Gabriella.

“Ella.” He whispered shaking her shoulder slightly. “How did you fall asleep that fast?”

“The sound of your annoying voice lulled me to sleep.” She laughed slightly.

The two laid together later cuddled up watching some random rom com but it was mostly background noise as they were heavily making out. Gabriella pulled on his lap as he took in her appearance. Black ribbed tank top and some blue silk shorts she got in some sale at La Perla a couple years ago.

Luke pulled back slightly and leaned his forehead on hers. “I think I heard something about a blowjob earlier this morning. I think I deserve one now that the album’s officially out.”

“Hm maybe you do for all your late nights and hard work.”

She quietly tied her hair up before moving down and kissing his waistband of his shorts, inflecting a groan from him. She pulled his dick from his basketball shorts as her eyes widened in excitement. Nothing compared when she got to suck him off.

“Shit.” He cursed when he felt her tongue kitten lick his tip.

She spit in her hand and slowly jerked him off. She slipped him as far as she could go and jerked the rest she couldn’t in her freshly manicured hands.

“Your mouth is so good.” He groaned as she made a choking noise.

She knew he was close by the way he was basically whining for her mouth as she widened her green eyes more making her look innocent as ever as spit covered her chin.

“Fuck, open your mouth.” He quickly said.

She obeyed as she stuck out her tongue waiting for his release, she felt it coat her mouth and some on her chest. Gabriella stuck out her tounge proudly displaying nothing.

“Good girl.”

He pulled his shorts back up his legs and grabbed a tissue, cleaning his release up off her chest.

Her hair clung to her sweaty neck due to the heat of the room as she had a dazed out look in her eyes.

“You okay??” Luke questioned noticing her dazed and confused look.

She nodded and climbed on top of him and laid her head on his chest.

“Happy album release,” She smirked grabbing a yellow noise maker from the bedside table and blowing it into his ear making him flinch.

“Jesus Christ.”

[echoing--stars]

WORM!! What if - hear me out - Link and Rowan: fall carnival date thing with like a corn maze and pumpkins and little maple cookies :0

If you see me on tumblr, Zee, no you don't

This was such a cute prompt! I hope I did it justice!

(If you read this and would like to request a short snippet, see this post!)

Rowan trailed behind Link as he led the way through the corn maze. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been in there, but it definitely felt like they were lost. He didn’t mind though. They were both having fun trying to avoid the actors dressed in costume trying to scare the maze goers. Link turned around as he waited for Rowan to catch up. “I think we’re almost to the end.” “Oh yeah? How do you know?” Link reached out and grabbed Rowan’s hand, yanking him down the path. “Because—” he pulled them to the left. “It’s just around—” and now to the right. “Here!” This time, Link was actually correct. As they turned the last corner, the exit was in sight. Link picked up speed, pulling Rowan behind him. Before they could make it out, however, someone with a hockey mask and a fake chainsaw jumped in front of them. Rowan’s heart leapt and he took a step back, but Link nearly screeched as he jumped back, his back hitting Rowan’s chest. Rowan couldn’t help but laugh as he wrapped his arms around Link and pulled him close. The actor seemed to be laughing as well, and he waved as he stalked back into the corn maze. After a few seconds Link pushed away from Rowan and turned to face him. “You didn’t even jump!” “I was further away from them, Link. And besides, I had you to protect me. What did I have to be afraid of?” Link rolled his eyes and turned around again. Rowan followed him as he walked out of the maze and back towards the concessions area. Rowan sped up until he was beside Link and grabbed his hand. “You okay?” Link glanced over. “Of course! I’m happy as long as I’m with you.” Rowan blushed at the words, and it only deepened as Link reached up and kissed his cheek. He paused there for a moment, and whispered into Rowan’s ear. “You’re cute when you blush.” Rowan didn’t think he could get any redder, but the heat in his cheeks proved him otherwise. “Shut up.” Link only laughed and pulled him towards the nearest concession stand. “Come on, I want to try the maple cookies.” Rowan had to admit that he’d wanted to try them as well. They were the thing to get at the festival, and the line to get them was always long the whole night. There had to be something special about them, right? By the time they got to the front of the line, Link looked as tired as Rowan felt. It had been a long evening of pumpkin picking, a hay ride, and the corn maze, and they’d both been up early. Neither of them had to work in the morning, so they could sleep in, but Rowan was ready to go home after this. They picked a container of six maple sandwich cookies and a cup of hot cider to share, and soon they were headed back to the car. Link was walking close enough to Rowan that their elbows were bumping into each other, and if Rowan didn’t have his hands full with their purchases, he wouldn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around Link or grab his hand. At least they got to the car quickly enough. Rowan unlocked it and dropped into the driver’s seat. Link took the other side, careful to set the cup of cider in the cup holder before taking the bag of their purchases and the box of cookies from Rowan. He opened the box as Rowan started the car, and the spicy sweet smell of the cookies filled the space. Link handed one to Rowan before taking one for himself. Rowan bit into the cookie, chewing slowly. The cookie was crunchy and the spices were nice, but it was a little too sweet when combined with the icing in the center. And the icing definitely squished out the sides too much for his taste. But he supposed that they were pretty good for something that had to be made in such large batches in a short amount of time. He looked over at Link, who was still chewing with a thoughtful look on his face. Rowan put the car in drive and pulled out. “What did you think?” Link hummed. “I think you could do better.”

[vague-rooster-crimes]

Wednesday - “God forgive us: we have burned a saint.”

I don’t want to understand. I don’t want any of this to be happening. I want to go back to when everything in my mind was real. When I could read a story and it would be real and real life didn’t matter, real life was inferior. Real life has arrived to punch us all in the face. Maybe I’m at that age now. Angel, baby, my love it’s too early for this

BLISS LAI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“My girlfriend’s being attack by paps in the fucking street on her way into work and you want me to fucking calm down?!” Rowan screams at Lister so loudly that Lister actually recoils. “Fuck off, thinking you can help us, thinking you have any fucking understanding of what it means to care about someone, you fucking sex addict!” It probably doesn’t help that Lister’s only wearing his boxers and smells quite badly of weed. I can’t lie I forgot how aggressive Wednesday really starts out. Rowan, baby, maybe calm down a bit. Or don’t take it out on Lister. Either or.

What’s the point in being in The Ark if we’re going to get stalked, harassed, have photographs leaked, privacy stolen, and never, ever be at peace?

I’ve been gripping my cup of tea so tightly, I don’t realize how hard I slam the mug down on the counter, sending shards of ceramic flying all over the kitchen. There’s a sudden pain in my palm and I turn it towards me to find ice cut my hand open. Blood trails down my wrist and plops onto the floor.

I walk out of the house without a second thought. Off to rescue the girlfriend of one of the three boys who have kept me alive for the past five years. You know. Just a casual, normal Wednesday.

Rowan puts my hand down on the breakfast bar and walks away towards the bathroom. I just stand there, waiting, my hand open in front of me like it’s not really attached to my body, blood still seeping out of the open wound. I look down and realize there’s blood splattered all down my pajama shorts and on my legs. I laugh. Why’ve I got blood all over me? What the fuck.

The blood falls with a soft plip onto the table. Almost indiscernible from the rain falling outside.

RAIN MOTIF RAIN MOTIF RAIN MOTIF

Jimmy’s dissociation goes very hard on Wednesday

I move my fingers around. It hurts. It all hurts. “Are you okay?” Rowan asks me. “Are you?” I ask. “No,” he says. “Me neither,” I say. He sits down on a bar stool, spinning gently from side to side. “I wish we could go outside,” he says. “We can,” I say. “No, we can’t.” The pain on his face makes my pain feel worse.

Rowan is the only person in the whole world who knows me. […] But my best Rowan, my favorite Rowan, is the Rowan I knew seen years ago, sitting next to me, plucking at a guitar.

SHOUTOUT THE WOMAN WHO TRIPPED THE PAPS!!!!!!!

“Are you angry at me?” he says. “Do you just have sex with people to make them like you?” HELP SEND HELP!!!!! WHY WOULD EITHER OF TNEM SAY THAT!!!!!!

Jimmy’s so worried and angry FOR Lister and Lister immediately assumes Jimmy is angry at HIM. just go ahead and kill me now. And then Jimmy replies with THAT?????? JIMMY!!!!!!!!!!!

“Neither of you get it. It’s different for me.” He turns to me with one last pleading look. “You and Rowan have each other, but you have to see that it’s different for me. Being Lister Bird.” […] “Why else would anyone want to be around me?” he says. “I’m Lister Bird. Why else would anyone want to be around me other than to get with me?” I can’t do this today actually.

RAIN MOTIF RAIN MOTIF RAIN MOTIF

Moments from The Chapter Of All Time that make me go !!! 😭☹️😵‍💫

As soon as the lift door opens, I’m running. Run out of the building, through the door, down the steps, and—there. Fresh air. Light. It’s so light. The rain is cool and clean and pure. The rain isn’t going to hurt me. THE RAIN! ISNT GOING! TO HURT MEEEEEEEEEEEE

She grins crookedly at me. “Aren’t they lovely, eh?” She points shakily at a big bunch of yellow flowers growing in one corner of the park. “They’ll be bringing butterflies and bees once this rain clears up.” I don’t say anything. She laughs. She sounds so happy. “Beautiful,” she says. “What a world we live in!”

They don’t love me. They don’t know me. […] “How can you love me when you don’t know me?” I ask. And suddenly they all stop talking at once. “We—we do know you,” says one, and another says, “We do love you.” “Not real love, though,” I say. “It is real!” “How can you love someone you’ve never even met in real life?” “This is real life,” one says. “I meant before that. All until now. When I was just a photo on the computer.” None of them know what to say. “I’m glad I helped you,” I say, and then I walk away before they can stop me, before they start grabbing me, before they call their friends and they all get together and mob me, because they “love” me. Anyway thinking about at the party when Magnet says Jimmy’s so much hotter in real life and Jimmy laughs and says “in real life” and then this interaction.

Maybe it would be better if some fan stalker just killed me while I was asleep, made this all stop […] Everything is wrong. Bad. Everything is bad.

“We don’t live in the real world anymore,” I say. “Do you want to talk about it?” Says Rowan. “No,” I say. But God, I do. I always do

BUT GOD, I DO!!!!!!! I ALWAYS DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[infamous-if]

.1

As won by the poll, the MC x Seven first kiss drabble is first! A few things: 1) this drabble is fucking long sorry and 2) though this is what I imagine their first kiss to be like, I don't want to go as far as saying it's completely canon, mostly because I'm sure it can go many different ways with different types of MC's. And 3rd) I tried really hard to make this fluffy and not so serious and I'm sure you can see the shift where I thought 'oh crap' but...I am not a fluff writer and I will be working on that lmao 4th) as always, I do not edit my drabbles and I really only do one draft of them so excuse the wordy/awkward sentences or typos or any of that sort and finally, sorry about that last line lmfao

“Have any of you seen Seven?”

That’s the question you’ve been asking all night since your band left The Golden Spoon, a bar in the crux of the city. It had one of your best audiences in recent memory; there were no lulls in engagement, no dull moments that made you question yourself. People loved the songs and danced their hearts out, some even asked for pictures once the set was over. Fame, however small, feels pretty fucking good. 

That holds the most truth in Seven. After the set was over, they were on a high, laughing and talking to anyone who offered them even a sliver of their time. That’s usually how it goes with a successful set--Seven becomes a magnet for all sorts of attention. Unreachable, untouchable. No wonder you barely had a chance to talk to them after leaving.

It didn’t bother you, considering you were all heading to the bar owner’s apartment for a small after-party. You just assumed you’d talk to Seven there, considering it’s an apartment. Eight-hundred square feet at most. Small enough that you could spot Seven’s familiar red bandana in any crowd. 

Or not. 

The group you just asked share equally confused looks and answer with varying shrugs. 

You huff, pushing through the slightly sparse but growing crowd. You maneuver through the kitchen and ask a haggle of women who claim they didn’t even see Seven arrive. The man standing alone in the hall? Saw Seven once and never again.

You’re growing frustrated.

With every answer, your impatient grows. Where the hell could Seven be? You came with them but were quickly swept away by the hordes of people throwing various questions and praise your way. Seven hasn’t responded to any of your texts either, which sprouts up a small seed of worry in you. 

“Hey, MC!” 

You look up to see Jazzy beckoning you over to the couch in the living room, where most people have congregated. In the center stands Rowan, gesticulating wildly as he tells a story from high school...one you’re sure you’ve heard many times before.

Jazzy waves you over again and you sigh. Half your mind still on Seven’s whereabouts, you stride through the living room and take a seat in the corner of the couch next to Iris, half your body pressed against the armrest.

“…and that’s when I had to sit down because I kid you not, I was about to fucking eat concrete…”

The group laughs as Rowan weaves a tale of failed skateboarding antics. The names of you and your friends come up a few times, and whenever Seven is mentioned you can’t help but jolt and look around in hopes that they slipped back inside at some point in the story. With every mention, your body deflates further and further.

Until your phone buzzes. 

You turn it around, only to catch Seven finally responding to your million texts asking where they are.

Seven: Roof

You quirk a brow at the message—the one word that says so much—and type something quickly in return.

You: Thought you died.

Another buzz.

Seven: Can’t get rid of me that easily.

You snort, though no one else is laughing. You lower your phone a bit to appear engaged but send back a quick text. 

You: Aw, really? I was hoping I’d finally be free of you.

Seven: Har-har. Are you coming or not? I’m feeling lonelyyyy

Your heart races and another laugh bubbles out of you when Seven sends a GIF of someone ungracefully falling on the floor. You didn’t realize how much of a relief it is to hear from them until now, seeing Seven’s text on your screen. Is your body that attuned to them? That, whenever they’re gone, you can feel their absence, so palpable it’s as if a part of you is missing? When they’re near, you feel more than complete. Drowning in so much joy that it’s almost overwhelming?

What do you call that?

You shake away the thoughts and send a reply: Coming. 

Brushing yourself off when you stand, you catch your friends looking at you. You shoot Rowan a small smile and walk out of the living room, where you quickly hear him go into another story about who-knows-what. At least the party seems interested.

Another buzz. 

Seven: Bring some bears please

You: Bears? 

Seven: Beers. Whatever. 

Shaking your head, you put your phone away and divert your path to the kitchen where you swipe two bottles of beer. You use the end of the counter to pop open the tops before making your way out of the apartment…only to soon realize you don’t actually don’t know where you’re going.

Dangling the beers between two fingers, you take out your phone. 

You: Where am I going?

Seven: Are you serious? It’s a roof. Just go up.

Seven: lol

You: I will kill you.

Seven: OMG you really are trying to get rid of me

You: Seven Lawless

Seven: Using my whole name? Just shivered. The roof entrance is down the hall to your left. Ignore the signs telling you…not to go to the roof. 

You move to the door and sure enough, there is a large sign warning of any trespassers. 

You: You mean the sign saying that ‘violators will be fined and/or arrested?’

Seven: Ignore it. It’s just a very strong suggestion

Seven: (trust me) 

Scoffing, you push it open with your shoulder and go up the single flight of stairs to the roof. Stepping outside grants you a cacophony of sounds; car horns, the sound of the wind rushing past your cheeks, music playing from Seven’s phone. 

“I’m starting to think you look at the floor plan of every place you enter just to find the roof,” you say by way of greeting as you approach them.

Seven looks behind their shoulder from their spot on the ledge, their previously blank face widening into a sly grin. 

Your heart races at the image of Seven smiling at you, though you quickly push it down. You don’t know what’s been happening but lately, everything Seven does pulls a reaction from you. A simple look makes your stomach squeeze. A brush of their hand sends goosebumps up your arms. A smile can throw your whole body out of whack. 

“I needed a break,” Seven replies, turning back around to face ahead. As you get closer, you see their legs dangling over the edge. It’s not too far below—the building is four stories—but it’s still enough to give you vertigo when you go to sit next to them. “Someone asked me to sign their divorce papers."

Your lip twitches as you hand them a bottle. “Did you?”

Seven looks over to you, gaze glittering beneath stray strands of dark hair that fall in front of their eyes. “Yes.” 

You laugh and Seven swats your following hand away in your attempt to shove them to the side. “Woah, woah!” Their brief panic from the possibility of falling is laced with humor and you let out a small, ‘sorry!’ that Seven waves off. 

"Signing divorce papers," you muse. "I wonder what we'll sign when we're global rockstars."

Their humor subsides, and their smile weakens as they toy with their bottle. You wait, silent, as Seven inhales through their nose and says, “Do you ever regret it?” They gesture vaguely around them. “Doing…all of this?”

You face ahead and think about it, stretching your legs out in front of you. “Not really. Do you?”

Seven takes a swig of their drink before setting it down next to them, lifting both shoulders in a quick shrug. “No. This is all I ever wanted to do.”

“Then why don’t you sound so convinced?”

Their eyes cut to yours and they snort a little. 

“Hey, you brought it up,” you prod.

They huff through their nose, eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. “Shut up.” Once again, their humor is brief, and you start to think that there must be something within Seven that’s torn, fighting to come out. It wouldn’t surprise you; Seven has always loved too much, hurt too much, felt too much. They call it a Fatal Flaw, how attached they get, but really, you find it endearing. It’s rare to find people like them in this world. You wish they knew that. “Ah, I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

You nudge them. “Say it.” 

They begin rocking back and forth in thought, nudging you back every time they move. “Sometimes…when I’m on stage…” They clear their throat. “Sometimes I feel so lonely.”

Oh.

You expected many things, but not that. 

Lonely? Seven is lonely? Granted, Seven hasn’t had the greatest home life, but you assumed that they found an abundance of people to surround themselves with. Hell, they looked like they were having the time of their life after the gig!

Seven’s frowning now, their eyes glazing over with an emotion you can’t read. “I see all those faces and I love it. The attention. The way they sing our songs. I feel fucking alive, you know?”

You nod, hanging on to every word. You understand them; the feeling of music and standing on that stage, singing emotions and states of being that can’t be explained in any other way but through song.

“But then I look back and…” They chew on their inner cheek, brows furrowing as they evidently search for the right words. “I wonder if they see me. Like really see me.” 

Your lips part. For a moment, you’re speechless. “Sev—“

“And I know it’s unfair to think that,” Seven breaks in quickly. “They’re fans. I shouldn’t put so much responsibility on them, but it just….fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No!” you say. Seven jolts and whips their head toward you, giving you a look of alarm. “I get what you’re saying.” You adjust to face them completely. “I feel it too, sometimes. You just want to be seen not as Seven Lawless but…” You clear your throat. “Seven Duckstein. You know?”

Seven holds your gaze. Their eyes sparkle under the fairy lights that are strung around the lattice detailing on the roof. As their eyes dart around your face, searching for something, you wonder if it was wrong to bring up their real name. It’s always been a sore topic for them, amongst other things. You just hope Sev understands what you’re trying to say. 

They crack a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

You let out a small breath of relief, grateful Seven understands what you mean. You gaze around, looking down at the street below. Distantly, you can feel Seven’s eyes still on you. Your skin burns under their stare, but you do your best to keep looking at the tiny people running inside shops, chatting, and slipping into cars. Living entire lives that you will never know the depth of. 

You wonder if you have learned the true depth of Seven Duckstein. Even after all these years…they still seem like a mystery to you. 

And you sort of hate how exciting that feels. As if uncovering the hidden layers of your best friend is something to look forward to. 

“I’m not lonely with you, though.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet theirs. You laugh a little. “How could you be? I’m with you 24/7.”

Seven rolls their eyes and it’s their turn to shove you. “Can you be serious a sec? I’m trying to tell you I appreciate you.” They drag the syllables on the word ‘appreciate,’ trying to emphasize the severity of the moment. 

You raise your palms in mock surrender. “Keep going. I’m listening.”

They pause for a beat. “No. I’m nervous.”

“What!”

“Too much attention.”

“You’re a performer?!”

They raise a finger. “That’s different.” 

“Oh, please—“

Somehow you and Seven fall in a lighthearted round of bickering, swatting each other’s hands as you playfully fight. That fighting soon turns into tickling, and Seven’s usually even voice turns into high-pitched squeals that you wish you could record to use against them later.

You don’t know how it happened, but somehow Seven ends up on their back, sighing happily at the darkened sky that hovers over you both. You lean on your side, your body pressed against Seven’s, and rest your head on your hand.

“Come onnnn,” you prod, poking their rib. They squirm. “Tell me how much you appreciate me.” Your voice softens as Seven’s humor dies. “Tell me how you really feel.”

You meant for it to come out as a joke, but the delicacy in your voice betrays the true intention that’s hiding deep within you.

Seven’s eyes slowly, hesitantly, glide away from the stars pulsing in the sky to meet your eyes. With their hair framing their face, their small smile, and the glare of the fairy lights dancing on their face, they have never looked so vulnerable.

So…different. 

“I don’t think I should.”

That has you stiffening. A flare of panic rises in your stomach. What does Seven mean by that? Part of you knows but…no. You’re being ridiculous. 

They turn their head away, rolling their lips. It’s silent for a moment. You convince yourself Seven won’t speak until they say, “I’m afraid. Of you.”

“What?” you blurt, eyes wide. You hardly know how to act right now. This conversation has gone a direction you’re not sure of.

They turn back to face you. “You have too much power over me. It scares me.”

You open your mouth to speak. The only thing that comes out is a pathetic noise from your throat.

Seven snorts at your reaction, frowning at the sky. “You really don’t know the effect you have on others.”

“I doubt I have any impact on others," you mutter, feeling oddly self-conscious.

“Fine then. You don’t know the effect you have on me.” They huff, throwing their bandana aside to run a hand through their hair in frustration. “It’s kind of annoying.”

You sputter out a laugh, reaching out to poke them again. “Are you seriously insulting me—“ 

Seven grabs your hand mid-way, their skin warm against yours. You look down, staring at the polish on their nails as they curl their hand around your palm. “I’m not trying to insult you.” 

“Then what are you trying to do?” you mumble, your eyes still on your joined skin. 

“I’m trying to do as you asked.” Seven inhales a shuddering breath. “I’m telling you how I really feel.”

You jerk a nod. “Okay. Sorry.” Your voice is quiet. “Go.”

Silence.

Seven’s lip twitches as they look up at you. “Nervous again. Too much attention.”

“Fuck off,” you throw out, though there’s no strength behind your words. 

It’s Seven’s turn to apologize. “Sorry.” They swallow. “I just think I might mess up my words with you looking at me.” 

You debate something. Debate the logic behind whatever you’re going to say next. This moment feels too big to make decisions on feelings you don’t know are fleeting or not. This is Seven. Your best friend. Anything you do will permanently change the comfortable camaraderie you two have had since you were kids. 

But…you can’t stop from thinking it might be worth it anyway. 

“Then don’t use words.” 

Seven’s lips part, mostly from surprise. And then you see it; the shift in their expression-- from uncertain to determined. Their eyes darken and slowly, they release their grip on your hand to place it on the back of your neck, pulling you toward them. 

Your heart races in your chest. Are you two really doing this? After years of casual closeness; sleepovers, handshakes, private looks across crowded rooms. Has there been an underlying attraction you just never paid attention to? Or maybe you did, and both of you were too afraid to confront it. 

Seven is slow at firs, as if they aren't quite sure they should be doing this after all. But when you don’t pull away they grow the confidence to close the remaining inches of space between you.

Kissing Seven isn't like anything you imagined. And you can't lie; you've imagined it plenty of times.

What is happening...?

Lips warm against yours, you clutch the leather of their jacket as they pull you closer. The kiss is a messy and desperate dance of teeth and tongues but you don’t mind. Not when Seven tastes like gum and alcohol and is sending goosebumps down your arms as they absently run circles on the skin of your neck. 

Messy seems about right.

Seven smells of lavender and pine and mint and so many other smells you never noticed until now, when you’re so aware of them and their existence that your brain can’t make out any words except Seven Seven Seven.

Seven kisses you like it's their own salvation; as if kissing you now is the only thing anchoring them to this moment. As if pulling away means breaking whatever dream you two have found yourselves in. So they pull you even closer, deepening the kiss and sighing happily into your mouth.

You could kiss Seven Lawless all night. Shit, you could kiss Seven Lawless forever.

They tug on your lower lip with their teeth just lightly before closing their mouth to plant a more chaste kiss before pulling away. You swallow a frustrated groan, stifling the urge to pull them back into another kiss. 

Your eyes flutter open at the loss of warmth.

"That...that was a lot better than I thought," they breathe.

"You've thought about it?" you joke, careful not to speak too loudly in fear of ruining the moment.

Their answering nod is jerky. "Yeah. An embarrassing amount of times."

You both laugh. The humor quickly dies. Then...the worst part comes: the silence.

The horrible, awkward silence.

See, no one ever talks about what comes afterward. The reality of realizing what it is you've just done. The panic that follows the post-kiss clarity.

“Uh…”

“Er…”

They slowly drop their hand from your neck. 

And then they burst up, making you fall back on your ass. 

“You—“ They whirl around. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Me?!” you guffaw, standing on your feet as well. “You mean you kissed me!”

“Me?” They stand there, and then a manic, happy laugh escapes them. You watch as they put their hands on both of their cheeks, blowing out a long breath. “So I did, didn’t I?”

It’s your turn to laugh. You feel drunk. “Yeah. You did.”

“You kissed me back.” Their voice comes out almost accusatory.

“Yeah.” Your brows furrow. “…I did.”

Seven and you stand there. A rush of wind passes. Neither of you speak.

Until both of you do.

“That—“

“We—“

Seven physically clamps their mouth shut with their hand. Your brain is a static fuzz of nothingness. 

Songwriters at a loss for words. It’s almost funny. 

“Is…” You clear your throat. “Is that how you really feel?”

Seven meets your eyes and then quickly looks away. “Yeah.” A mumble. “For a while now.”

Your eyes widen. “I—“

“Don’t say anything!” Seven raises a hand, stopping you. 

You jolt, mostly because Seven just acted like they saw a bug or something. “What!”

“You know in the movies and TV shows where a person confesses to another person and that other person feels obligated to say something back even though they likely didn’t think it through as long as the other person?” Seven says in one breath.

You blink. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“—well, I always found that to be pathetic. Almost like a pity response.” They begin nervously smoothing their hands on their pants, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Just don’t…say anything, okay?”

“Seven.”

Seven, still a bit frantic, comes over to you and puts their hands on your shoulders. “Just forget this happened. I’ll get over it. I just…I may have drank a bit and I needed to get it out of my system and I don’t want this to ruin what we have.” 

You have whiplash. Maybe it was you who drank too much. You two were just kissing—kissing—and now Seven is telling you to forget it...?

“That kiss was in the heat of the moment and I mean, I did like it but it may be weird and we’ve been best friends for so long that I know you might find it odd. And hey,“--they let out a burst of shaky laughter--"maybe we can write a song out of thi--'

You pull their face forward, stifling the rest of their words in another pathetically desperate kiss that burns you all over.

It takes Seven a few seconds to catch up, but when they do, their hands go from your shoulders to your cheeks, cupping your face.

By the time you pull away, you're both slightly breathless. You say, “Just…shut up.”

Seven simply stares at you, parted lips glistening and eyes peering at you as if you’re a painting in the Louvre. Like you're something worth their awe and wonder. 

Maybe it’s now, just like when they were laying down, that Seven is seeing you differently too.

The sound of metal squeaks in the air with the door opening. You and Seven jolt, quickly shuffling away from each other just as Rowan, Iris, Devyn, and Jazzy appear. 

“We were looking for you gu—what’s going on?” Jazzy asks, her eyes darting between you two.

“Nothing.” Seven takes a wide step away from you, swiping a hand across their lips. You swear you see the shadow of a smile on their face. “We were just...talking.”

“You were missing the party, Sev Sev.” Jazzy comes over to Seven and throws her arm around their neck in some sort of move that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Where did you go?”

“Sorry, Jazz Jazz,” Seven jokes back, exasperated. They keep one eye on you as Jazzy pulls them away back inside. They steal one glance at you before they disappear down the stairs.

You stand there, ruminating over what just happened. Your lips still sting and the phantom touch of Seven’s mouth still makes the hair on your arms rise.

“You okay?” 

Rowan’s voice has you jolting back to the present. “What?”

“You and Seven.” Rowan gestures at you. “Are you guys alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” You wave a dismissive hand as you begin walking back inside. “Totally. We’re just peachy. What are we doing?”

“We’re heading home, actually,” Iris says, shooting you a curious look. “Party got boring.”

You snort, and you and your friends walk down the stairs to meet Seven and Jazzy in the hall. Seven looks your way and quickly averts their gaze, grazing the bottom of their teeth along their lip in evident thought.

You know, eventually, you and Seven will have to talk about…whatever that was that just happened. You’re not quite sure yet what it means. Though you do know one thing: tonight has changed something. Suddenly your friendship is something far more than precious: it’s fragile. And you can’t help but wonder what that kiss means for it.

“Should we get something to eat?” Iris asks the group as you saunter out of the building. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Rowan snorts, weaving Iris’s jab. 

“I’m okay with anything you want.” As Seven says this, they look over to you, and you know they’re not just talking about food.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Me too.”

“Burgers it is,” Iris says. Devyn hums in agreement.

Seven smiles at you, and you can feel the shift in them. When they gaze at you, something else lies there. Something else that makes your heart quicken.

Yeah, you may not know what comes next in your friendship, but you do know one thing: you and Seven will never part.

And that thought comforts you.

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: okay babies, you wanted it, I wanted it. Xavier Thorpe worst best HS bf let’s go. Reposting because the first time it got posted without tags and that's...embarrassing

Part 1 Here!

Okay so you remember how he like scaled a whole building to say sorry to Wednesday on the balcony of her dorm?

Yeah he does that with you all the time when you’re mad at him, or just having a bad day in general.

Usually there’s a few taps on your window and when you make your way outside there’s like a snack or some pastries for you, or a small bouquet of flowers or books or maybe a little love letter.

“Come on, how can you still be mad at me after I waited in line to get you those pastries you like.”

You wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, you’re not really that mad anymore, and they were really good.

“I don’t know but I still am.”

He doesn’t have to know that though.

One time you walked out and there were candles all along the edges, a picnic laid out, and a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’ve had a rough week, and it’s not much but—” the words: ‘I wanted to do something for you’ die in his throat when you practically tackle him into a hug.

“Thank you.”

He 100% flirts by “teaching you how to paint”

“You have to be really set on what brushstrokes you want to use, see like this.” His fingers curl over your hand, the brush still clasped between your fingers is guided through the motions by him.

You can feel his breath flutter against your ear, the smirk that dances on his lips when he feels you fluster.

“You’re doing such a good job.”

Even though now that you’re comfortable you make a move every so often, he’s still the one who initiates like 60-70% of romantic gestures.

So if one day he hears a knock on his door as he emerges from the bathroom freshly showered after a run, and if you happen to be on the other side, one of his oversized hoodies cradled in your arms and pressed against your cheek as you look up at him. And if you say:

“It doesn’t smell like you anymore, I wanted the real thing.”

He might appear completely fine as he ushers you inside before the dorm master catches you, but I promise—

Xavier.exe is broken

It’s perfectly innocent, you sit on his bed like it’s yours, patting the other side and looking at him expectantly.

For once he’s glad Rowan spends all his time in the nightshade library.

He walks in stiff steps as he sits next to you.

There’s an awkward moment of silence, and you clasp your hands one in the other.

“Should I not have come?” Before he can get in a word edgewise you stand up. “I’m sorry, I’m probably bothering you—”

“You’re not bothering me.” He stops you with a hand clasped around your wrist, tugging you until your pressed against his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

You cuddle mostly, little whispers of conversation muttered as your head is placed on his chest, his arms around you.

“You smell good.” You mumble. He lets out a muted laugh.

“Yeah I just showered.”

A hand darts out to play with the ends of his hair, the strands somewhere between dry and damp.

“I like it when you keep your hair down like this.” You mumble, eyes meeting his as your twirl the loose lock around your finger.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it looks…I don’t know, sexier like this?” You tilt your head to side, completely unaware as you settle in against his chest again.

Xavier.exe is broken (again)

It’s not all sweet though, Xavier is great at banter.

“Dude, what is this?” You ask with a raised eyebrow at his clown makeup at the poe cup.

He gets a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Oh, it’s so hot it’s turning you on?”

“Um, you know how like in a movie the main character will make themselves uglier on purpose with a bad haircut or something to test if the love interest really likes them? That’s what this feels like.”

He gives a low whistle.

“But you still like me?” The corner of his mouth quirks up when you sigh.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Oh my god and for the dance?

Like, he’s likes you a lot, but not enough to not get some joy out of seeing you squirm as you fumble over the words.

He’s got these sadistic tendencies after all.

He’s on cloud nine imagining all the ways you could ask him, stuttering over the words, or hiding your face in his chest as you squeak out the request.

But you’re really dragging your feet.

“I thought we were already going together?”

“I don’t remember being asked.” He huffs, and your eyebrows shoot up in realization.

Oh, he wants to be asked. That’s fair. You can do that.

You grab his hand, encasing it in both of yours before holding it against your chest.

His ears start to get hot.

You tilt your head to the side, the softest sweetest smile on your lips.

“Will you please go to the dance with me Xavier?”

His ears are bright red now. Just like the apples of his cheeks, and the back of his neck.

He’s got a reputation to uphold though.

“I would love to go to the dance with you, thought you’d never ask.”

But then you kiss the back of his hand and his mind stutters to a stop again.

He sketches you in the corner of his journal sometimes, the same absentminded way you might scrawl someone’s name next to yours.

He’s not sure when he engraved your face in the back of his mind.

Or when the familiar shape of your eyes, the arch of your brow, the lilt of your smile, started to feel like home.

Just that he hopes it never does

[severalforraelee]

Brother’s Rival: Prove It Short Story

Prompt: Hey can you please do a request w max verstappen where the reader and him are married and their teenage daughter wants to go on a date but Max is super overprotective please ❤️

Written by raelee / posted May 21

Word count: 1274

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

Prove It Masterlist

We watch through the links of the fence as Keagan gets out of his kart, removing his helmet and balaclava, turning towards Laurent Leclerc, and shoots daggers at him, in my opinion, in a petty manner.

“Laurent’s not going to like that look,” Rowan comments. The rivalry between a Verstappen and a Leclerc has continued to this generation- although it’s not as friendly as Charles’ and Max’s.

“He shouldn’t have braked so soon, then,” Max responds. No matter what, even if they are clearly to blame, Max will defend his kids.

They could be standing outside of a bank with a bag of cash in their hand and Max would be asking the bank why they don’t secure their money more safely.

“He would’ve run into the debris from the crash earlier, otherwise,” Rowan replies.

“Well his engineer should’ve told him about it sooner,” Avery pipes up.

Avery Verstappen, with looks just like her mother and brains just like her father. Both of which can get her in trouble from time to time.

“Uncle Charles would not be happy hearing you talk like that, Avery,” I remind her.

“Neither would Laurent,” Rowan smiles smugly at her. She reaches across me and her dad, punching him squarely on the arm. He whines to himself, rubbing the bruised area.

It’s a known fact that Laurent has a crush on Avery. From the way that he blushes whenever he sees her to the way that he stutters whenever he speaks to her, it’s been common knowledge for years. But because of the battle between Charles and Max and now Laurent and her brother, Avery refuses to even entertain the thought of dating Laurent.

Plus he would have to work up the nerve to even utter the words ‘Will you go on a date with me?’ Which currently seems impossible.

“Keagan would,” Max grins at his daughter.

I roll my eyes at the interaction. With the mentality being so similar between the two, Max and Avery will encourage each other to do anything that they think is a good idea.

Key word: they.

We wait for Keagan to get cleaned up and talk to the media before coming over to us.

“Good job today, buddy,” Max tells his son. He always makes sure to tell him those words, because his father never did.

“I crashed out, dad,” Keagan sighs. I reach out, rubbing the back of his neck comfortingly.

“Yeah, but that was Laurent’s fault, too.”

I roll my eyes. Typical of Max to suggest taking partial blame and shoving the other part onto someone else.

“I’m going to go grab a water bottle,” Avery informs us, shoving her two brothers on the way to the paddock.

Rowan glares at his sister’s back as she walks away and Keagan scoffs at the action.

“Don’t instigate her next time,” Max warns them.

“We were literally just standing here.”

Twenty minutes later, Avery still hasn’t returned from grabbing a water bottle. And the boys are getting impatient. And by boys, I mean all of them.

“Where is she? I told the boys that I would sim with them tonight,” Max switches from foot to foot, restlessly checking his watch.

“I’ll go check,” I inform them, leaning up to kiss my husband on the cheek before rolling my eyes at his behavior, walking towards the paddock to find my teenage daughter.

As I turn the corner, I hear familiar voices extremely close by. Once I catch sight of Avery and Laurent chatting with each other- closely, might I add- I duck back behind the wall. My head peaks around the corner to see if they noticed me. Luckily, they didn’t.

The two stand approximately a foot apart. Laurent looks down at Avery with a look of adoration. Avery is looking up at Laurent, twirling her Y/H/C hair around her index finger as she bats her eyelashes at him.

That’s a look that I’m all too familiar with.

It’s the look that I give Max when I want something.

“Hey babe, did you find-”And if I recognize that look, so will Max. I whirl around, pressing my hands onto Max’s chest to keep him from moving forwards.

“Oh, I don’t think she’s over here, she must’ve gone-””What are you talking about? She’s right there- oh.” Rowan stops speaking once he notices the situation that Avery and Laurent are in.

“What?” Max moves forward despite my protests, turning the corner.

“Avery Zandvoort Verstappen,” Max exclaims once he sees the pair.

“You’re named after a racetrack?” Laurent murmurs to her.

“My mom lost a bet.”

“Just what do you think that you’re doing?”

“Flirting with Laurent Leclerc, that’s what,” Keagan narrows his eyes at his sister.

She glares back at him.

It all makes sense now. Laurent exhibits his crush towards Avery through his shyness, but Avery acts the complete opposite towards him. She’s always seeking him out, wanting to talk to him about this or that. She has a crush on him too.

“Mr. Verstappen, I was actually going to try to find you later,” Laurent states.

Max raises his eyebrows at him. “And why’s that?”

“I think that your daughter is absolutely marvelous-””You think? You don’t know?”

I nudge Max in his side, giving him a hint to take it easy.

“No, no, I know, sir,” Charles’ son doesn’t skip a beat, though. “I was wondering if I had your permission to take your daughter out on a date.”

“Absolutely not,” Keagan says at the same time Avery asks, “Excuse me?”

Laurent looks between the two siblings in horror. Rowan leans against the brick wall next to us, watching the situation play out with sparkling amused eyes.

“You just caused my race to end,” Keagan says in disbelief. “And now you’re asking my sister out on a date?”

“Okay, I did not cause your race to end-””You’re going to ask my dad permission to take me out on a date? What is this, the 1950s?” Avery interrupts Laurent.

“No, I just know that you’re close with your family-””And why just my dad? My mom raised me, too. Actually, my mom was there more than my dad because of his job.”

“You’re completely right,” Laurent agrees, turning towards me. “Mrs. Verstappen, do I have your permission to take Avery out on a date?”

“You do, Laurent,” I smile at him kindly.

“Mr. Verstappen, do I have your permission to take Avery out on a date?”

I squeeze Max’s arm tightly, reminding him to be nice to the poor kid.

“Fine, just one date,” he grumbles.

“Um, aren’t you going to ask her brothers for permission?” Keagan raises his eyebrows.

Laurent opens his mouth, then closes it. It’s clear that he doesn't know what to say or do.

“You’re alright, Laurent,” Rowan shrugs with a charming grin.

“Well my answer is no,” Keagan snaps.

“Keagan-””I mean, seriously, Avery, he ends your brother’s race and then you’re going to go on a date with the guy? Stop being so stupid,” Keagan interrupts his younger sister.

Before me or Max can step in, Laurent surprisingly does. “That’s enough, Keagan, I’m not going to stand here and allow you to treat Avery that way. You know that she’s not dumb. She’s the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful girl that I have ever met. Treat her like she is.”

We all pause, looking between Keagan and Laurent for movement as they have a staredown. Finally, Keagan grins, reaching out to shake Laurent’s hand. Laurent shakes his hand unsurely.

“You’ll treat her right with that mentality. Welcome to the family, Laurent.”

[marvelsage]

Wednesday & Wick

FOUR

“Wick! Hey Wick! Open up!” Pounding at your door disturbed you latest read. Annoyed you lay the book down and approach the door. Opening the slot in the door to see the Sheriff.

“What?”

“I need your statement-”

“I already gave my statement. Now what do you really want?”

“It would be better to discuss more in person.”

“You have a warrant?”

“No-”

*slam*

Leaning away from the door you listened as he gave up and returned to your book. Though your mind just read over the same line and after the sixth you gave up. You noted that you were late for your club meeting.

BEEP

On the way to the hive you notice Wednesday and ‘Rowan’ talking by Ms.Thorhills car. Approaching as they were about to drive away you step in front of the car.

“Oh my- Wick!” You smile and approach ‘Rowans’ window as it rolls down slowly, leaning down some.

“Leaving without saying goodbye. I’m hurt and here I thought we were friends, Ro.” Looking deep within his eyes as he tries to look away.

“I-I um sor-bye”

“Alls well, Rowan. Do keep in touch hmm.”

“Apologies, Ms. Thornhill, didn’t mean to scare you.” Standing straight, tapping the top of the car stepping back. As it drives off, Wednesday steps up beside you.

“What do you know?”

“I know what I know.” Stepping close to seem more ‘intimidating’ your demons hum in bliss at being so close to her aura.

“Care to share.”

“I’d have to care in order to share, wouldn’t I”

“I find you infuriating.”

“Never said I was nice.” Side stepping her, you set off.

GREEN HOUSE

Entering class last you scan the room for an open seat. There was a seat in the back corner you were going to sit in until Bianca called you over.

“You can sit over here.” You shrug and detour to her table.

“Wick, haven’t seen you very often lately.”

“You would if you took your eyes off Xavier.” A few snickers were heard before Xavier stole the show with his drawings. You look over as he tries to impress Wednesday with his ability. Silently laughing when all she does is slam her hand on it.

Class goes on as Wednesday and Bianca compete to see who knew the ghost orchid more. Spacing out as recent events circle your head repeatedly. Suddenly everyone’s standing and leaving the class.

“Wick, please stay back for a moment.” Reluctantly you sit back down, and wait for everyone to leave.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot, Wick. Is there anything you’d like to talk about? You know I’m always here.”

“No I’m alright.”

“Does it have to do with Rowan leaving? I know you two were pretty close. You must miss him very much.”

“I guess so but I’ll always have a piece of him with me.” You smirk internally as you pat the chest pocket of your vest. The conversation ended shortly and she dismissed you soon after.

BEEHIVE

You had just finished checking the last of your assigned section when Wednesday and Enid had appeared. You entered the shed after giving them a few minutes. Swinging the door open, you were met with Enid in a bee suit, Eugene showcasing a honey jar, and Wednesday with a knife raised.

“Relax, Chucky it’s just me. What the hell are you doing now?” Letting the door slam shut as you pull off the net from your head. Unzipping the jumper halfway and letting the rest hang off your waist.

Turning around, you lean back against a one of the tables with your arms crossed. Taking note of Enids slight blush and Wednesday discreetly checking you out.

“It’s none of your concern. Shouldn’t you be putting hearts into dolls.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking hearts out of dolls.” Smiling sarcastically back as she goes over her plan with Enid and Eugene.

“Wait. Enid is supposed to decoy you? Huh”

“What.”

“I’m sorry but if Principle Weems can’t see the blonde with pink and purple highlights through the net I’d be more impressed.” Glaring at you as you stand to change in the hidden closet of the shed.

“Nobody asked.”

“You quiet literally did 30 seconds ago.” Strutting out the closet, making sure your uniform was straightened out. You decided on the ‘boys’ version of the uniform today, with a customized corset to go with.

“Let’s go.” It took Wednesday a moment to follow as she caught up on the fact that you had invited yourself along.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming along. I’m not letting you go alone after what happened that night.” Stepping over certain parts of the ground to lessen the amount of noise.

“I don’t need-”

“My help, we’re not friends, blah blah blah yeah I got it, darling. Watch your head.” Holding a branch high enough for her to walk under which didn’t take much.

You hear him before you see him as suddenly Wednesdays yanked out of sight. Leaping up into the tree next to you, masking your scent as the sheriff walks pass. Sniffing the air to make sure that was it you step off from the branch you were on and land gracefully between Wednesday and Tyler.

“Whoa, Wick.”

“Tyler.” Tilting your head in greeting before turning around to Wednesday. Checking her over unknowingly stepping closer to her to make sure she was unharmed.

“I’m fine.” You hold her gaze and see truth until Tyler clears his throat. Snarling ‘unintentionally’ at him, he raises his hands in show of no harm.

“Sorry force of habit.” Moving on from the situation you let them have their talk and tune them out as the whispers start up again. The same ones that happened the night of the festival and they seemed to be coming from a certain area. You spot something on the ground at the same time Wednesday does.

“I was right.” She goes to pick up the glasses- Rowan’s glasses when she’s snapped into a vision. Tyler rushed forward to hold her up as you stumble back from the force of something unknown that caused your nose to bleed a little.

‘what the f*ck’

DORM

Finishing up getting everything ready for tonight a knock on your door stops you. Opening it you saw no one but heard little thuds, you look down and smirk.

“Hello, Thing. It’s been quiet a while since I’ve seen you.” Letting him in you wait as he climbs up your work table and let’s you in on the plan Wednesday had in mind for the Poe cup.

“Hmmm nice I like it.” You both brainstorm on ideas like old times and catch up briefly before you decided to end the night.

POE CUP

“What’s wrong?” Wednesday asked as Enid has another panic attack right before the game.

“We’re down another person!And now we’re going to have to forfeit! Oh my gosh!”

“How is that possible?” Rapid thudding caught their attention as Thing motioned to the entrance of their tent. Right on time for you to strut out of it with the matching uniform, though yours didn’t have long sleeves, filling it out nicely.

“Hope you don’t mind, Enid but I need full range of my arms for today.” Coming up beside them as Enid squeals of happiness and jumps on you thanking you repeatedly. She set off to the boat after, leaving you with Wednesday who had yet to say anything.

“What did you do?”

“Well you look lovely as well, darling.” Her glare doesn’t waver and you inch your head to thing.

“That’s for me and thing to worry about.”

“Didn’t know you two were friends.” Nudging her chin lightly with your knuckle to meet her gaze.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my number one.”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” Shifting your arm to fully show it.

“Oh yeah family heirlooms and stuff like that. Come one we got a race to win.”

BANG!

And your off, your enhanced strength along with Enids helped to speed up the rowing. Dodging the others tactics easily and making it across. Wednesday went ahead to get the flag as the rest of you stayed to make sure nothing happened to the boat.

“Hey thing, now.” Thing distracts the other team and you motion to Enid to claw their boat. By the time Wednesday came back the others had started to leave already.

“Your alright?”

“Fine. Let’s go.” This time you were at the back of the boat and used a bit more of your strength to catch up to Bianca’s team. Passing the jokers as they sink, waving to Xavier on the way and laugh.

“Thing! I think flounder needs a hand.” With the help of thing and your last use of reinforcements, your team made it to the finish line in first place.

“We did it!” High fiving a few people along the way as everyone celebrated.

THE QUAD

You were tired from todays events as Principle Weems went on about your teams victory. Drifting away from the group you come across the Wednesday sitting at the foot of one of the many statues.

“You alright?”

“Why do you always insist on checking on me?” Sitting down beside her you sigh.

“Cause whether you like it or not, I’d like to think we’ve come to be partners in crime. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t” She tilts her head up the slightest bit once again lessening the distance between one another.

“What are you guys doing down here?” She backs away as Enid appears at the entrance of the hall. Wednesday explains how she didn’t like how everyone was staring at her.

“Leaving. I’m tired, I’ll see you guys later.”

“Oh well good night, Wick. Thanks for stepping up today.” Sparing Wednesday a glance between her and the statue.

“No problem, Enid.” Saluting her just before you turn the corner.

Wednesday

“So what was that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on everyone can totally see the romantic tension between you too.” Wiggling her fingers at tension and at that Wednesdays face twitch just the slightest.

“Romantic? Never. Tension? Quiet irritably. Mention this to anyone and your pig stuffy is getting decapitated.”

“Got it…”

sorry if your tag didn’t work out. also for taking a while I decided to make this part just a bit more lengthy. hope you all enjoy:)

@official-clint-barton @smolgayhooman @elduster @dreifhraniquo29 @lonelylesbian @coralbirdstudent @marice23top @dragonfly358@n0p35 @1-800-depressedlesbian @darlingtwice @e-dollly @gengen64 @mrchiipchrome @frogtits1 @bubbabobabubbles

[golden-kingdom]

So Good - Part 2

Summary: Pop singer Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, better known as Celaena, had everything she wanted in life. Until she met Rowan Whitethorn at a party. She decides to stay away for her own good and his, but fate has a funny way of bringing them together again and again.

Based on the song So Good by Halsey.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: SEXUAL EXPLICIT SCENES, cursing, drinking, mention of miscarriage

Here's the second and last part. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

May 2021

Aelin definitely had too much to drink she thought as she leant on Dorian for some stability. He put his arm around her and laughed. She didn’t know exactly what club they were at, but the music was filling her ears and her mind was empty. She was happy.

"Maybe you should calm down a little, love," Dorian said with humor in his eyes. "It’s not even midnight yet."

"But I’m having fun!" she said, way too loud.

Dorian laughed again. She liked him. They had been seeing each other for a few months now. He was easy to be with and charming. And mostly, he was good in bed. Which made her think…

"Do you wanna get out of here?" she said, her voice a little slurred, but she didn’t care. She waggled her brows in a suggestive way.

"You just said you were having fun here, you menace!" he snorted.

"Then let’s dance!" she said as she grabbed him by the arm and led him towards the dancefloor. Dorian followed her, not objecting to her demand.

Aelin put her arms around his neck and started moving her body to the beat of the music that was playing. She loved dancing. And she knew she was good at it.

She didn’t care if everyone was looking at her; she was in her own world. She turned around and started swaying her hips in front of Dorian who quickly grabbed her waist and pulled her close. She grinded into him, making him groan.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he whispered in her ear.

She continued moving, grabbing his hands and moving them up her body where she wanted them. Dorian just laughed and angled her face toward his to kiss her. She was feeling hot inside. She didn’t know if it was because of the dancing or the way Dorian touched her. She turned around.

"I need another drink," she said close to his ear so he could hear her.

He nodded and let her go, keeping on dancing alone in the crowd.

Aelin headed to the bar and ordered another drink. She was standing there, waiting impatiently, when she heard a surprised voice behind her.

"Aelin?" Rowan said.

She definitely was not expecting to run into him here tonight. The bartender handed her the drink and she turned around.

"Well, look who it is, Rowan Whitethorn."

"Are you here alone?" he asked, sudden worry in his voice.

"No, are you?" she asked more sharply than necessary.

"No, I came with Fenrys and Connall," he said, and he pointed to the men sitting at a table in a quieter corner.

He looked back at her and their eyes met. She felt a surge of liquid of courage.

"You know, I really hoped you would text me after what happened last time," she admitted. "But you didn’t."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"How much have you had to drink, Aelin?"

"Not enough. And don’t Aelin me," she said sounding like a petulant child, but she had too much to drink to care.

"Do you wanna come sit with us? Just until I’m sure you can walk in a straight line."

"I can perfectly walk in a straight line, thank you. But alright, if you ask so nicely," she said, pulling her tongue at him.

He put his arm around her waist to help her walk to the table and Aelin felt those damn sparks again. He helped her sit down in the chair and sat down in front of her.

"Fenrys, Connall, lovely to see you here," said Aelin to the other two men who had stopped talking and were looking at her.

"It’s always a pleasure, Aelin," Fenrys replied with a wink.

She giggled. She loved Fenrys.

"I found her by the bar alone and asked her to come sit with us," Rowan explained to his friends.

"My savior. What would I ever do without you?" she exclaimed in a fake relieved voice.

Rowan rolled his eyes, but Fenrys and Connall laughed.

Suddenly, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see who it was.

"Aelin, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you," asked Dorian, appearing from the crowd, a little out of breath.

"Here I am, ta-dah!" she replied.

He laughed good-naturedly at her antics. He turned toward the men she was sitting with and smiled when he saw who it was.

"Fenrys, my man!" he said, pulling the blonde man in a hug. "And that must be Connall." The dark-haired man simply nodded in answer.

Dorian sat next to Aelin and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Aelin leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. She swore she saw Rowan freeze for a second.

"I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Dorian," he held out a hand for Rowan.

"Yes, I’ve seen your films. I’m Rowan," shaking his hand more firmly then needed.

Dorian didn’t seem to mind and went back to chatting loudly with Fenrys, still holding Aelin close to him. She looked at Rowan, but he was looking at his drink like it was the most interesting in the world.

Fine. He wanted to ignore her, two could play this game.

She turned towards the other men and joined into their conversation for a little while. When she finally couldn’t resist not looking at Rowan anymore, she glanced back at him. He was brooding in his corner. She was trying to catch his eyes, to ask him what was wrong, when she heard his phone pinged. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the light of the screen illuminating his face in the dark. She saw his brow furrow.

"Ah that must be Lyria texting him," said Connall. Aelin felt entirely too sober all of the sudden. She had almost forgotten her. "We should probably head home," he added.

The three men got up to leave. Fenrys and Connall gave her a hug and said their goodbyes. Rowan was standing there awkwardly, looking at her.

"Will you be alright?" he asked, pointedly ignoring Dorian’s presence.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?" she replied.

"Good night, Aelin," he said.

Before she could think too much about it, Aelin was pulling him in for a hug too. She breathed him in and he smelled of pine and snow. Weirdly, it felt like home. She held him a little longer than necessary, appreciating the weight of his body against her.

"Good night, Rowan" she replied with a finality in her voice he didn’t notice.

After the three men left, Aelin downed her last drink. She needed to forget about him. She couldn’t hold on to this hope of him anymore. She had to move on.

"Wanna go home?" asked Dorian, taking her hand.

"Please, take me home," she replied.

She didn’t think of Rowan when Dorian kissed her that night. She didn’t think of him when Dorian laid her down on his bed. She didn’t think of him as Dorian entered her. She didn’t think of him when she came with a moan. She most definitely didn’t think of him when Dorian held her close afterward and felt asleep next to her. She couldn’t afford to think about him anymore.

…

December 2021

"I need to go pee. Help me get up", said Lysandra.

When Lysandra had told her she and Aedion were pregnant, she had been delighted. She was going to be an aunt. But she didn’t expect to be the one sitting here today with her very pregnant friend. They were sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting for Lysandra’s appointment with her doctor. Her cousin Aedion hadn’t been able to come this time; he was expected at court for one of his clients. Lysandra was angry, but Aelin had offered to take his place to accompany her. It seemed to have soften the blow, at least a little.

Aelin got up and helped Lysandra do the same. She was 36 weeks pregnant and her stomach was huge. Another reason she was pissed off at Aedion. He hadn’t warned her that babies in the Ashryver family tended to be quite big.

"Do you need help to go to the bathroom?" asked Aelin.

"No, I’m still capable of doing that on my own, thank you," replied Lysandra curtly.

She watched as Lysandra slowly made her way down the corridor towards the bathroom until she disappeared. She sat back in the uncomfortable chair and pulled out her phone out of her pocket and texted her cousin.

you better really make it up to her after today she’s really pissed

She heard voices approaching and looked up from her phone. She was ready to go back to scrolling on Instagram, when she spotted silver hair and a tattoo she knew too well. She flinched.

She hadn’t seen him since that night at the club where she had made up her mind to forget him. Not that it had worked, but she had really tried and might have succeeded eventually if the Gods would just stop them from bumping into each other all the time. It’s like fate was playing some kind of cruel trick on her.

Rowan and Lyria appeared in the waiting room. She wanted to be anywhere but here, but she had to stay for Lysandra. She couldn’t abandon her friend now. So, she braced herself for the unpleasant conversation.

"I told you I could have come alone," she heard Lyria argue.

"There’s no way I’m letting you go to your first appointment alone, you know that," she heard Rowan snapped back.

That’s when they noticed her presence.

"Aelin?" Rowan said, surprised to see her there.

"Oh, hey Rowan. Hi Lyria," trying to keep herself together. She needed to act normal. Keep her voice even and her face relaxed.

The brunette gave her a smile and sat down in a chair across from her, Rowan doing the same.

She could do this. She had moved on, she tried to convince herself. She wasn’t going to let this affect her.

"What are you doing here? Are you pregnant?" Rowan asked with a horrified look on his face. She didn’t know why he cared whether she was pregnant or not, it’s not like he ever cared about her.

"No, Gods, no. I’m here with my friend. Her husband, my cousin, couldn’t come so I offered to come instead."

"That’s very kind of you," Lyria said with a sweet smile.

Lyria was as friendly with her as the night they first met. She wouldn’t be if she knew how you thought about her boyfriend, she thought to herself. She felt like she was going to be sick. Aelin was a horrible person.

That’s when Lysandra came back. She was holding her stomach and walking back to Aelin with a displeased look on her beautiful face. Her full lips were set in an irritated line.

"Isn’t this supposed to be the maternity department? Why are the bathrooms so small? I almost didn’t fit inside," she complained very loudly, probably hoping the hospital staff would hear her.

She helped her friend sit back down. Lysandra suddenly noticed she had interrupted the conversation and how uncomfortable Aelin looked. She looked at the couple facing her.

"Rowan, Lyria, this my friend Lysandra. Don’t worry, she’s not always this cranky," she said with a small laugh she had to fake.

"No worries. I’ll probably be the same when I get to that point," replied Lyria with a bubbly laugh Aelin immediately hated. Aelin blanched at her words. She saw Rowan tensed.

"See, she gets it. You try carrying a baby inside your stomach for nine months, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius," Lysandra said, looking pointedly at her.

"I’m sorry, you’re right," she replied, not wanting to annoy her friend further.

Rowan was curiously silent throughout their exchange. She looked at him and he looked like he wanted to disappear. Well, that made two of them.

"How far along are you?" asked Lysandra to the brunette facing her. Lysandra had never been one to bother with politeness and even less so since she was pregnant. Aelin cursed her mentally.

"Oh," Lyria replied, surprised by the bold question. "Only 8 weeks. This is just a general check-up to see if everything is going well." She put a hand on her stomach which was still completely flat. Aelin looked purposely at the floor and tried to ignore the feelings that were bubbling inside her.

Lucky for her, a kind-looking woman came out of an office.

"Lysandra Ashryver?" she asked, with a warm voice.

Her friend made to get up by herself this time, but Aelin stood up and helped her out of the chair.

"It was nice seeing you both. Good luck with the rest of your pregnancy, Lysandra," said Lyria, always ever pleasant. Damn her and her amiability thought Aelin. Why couldn’t she just let her hate her in peace?

Lysandra thanked her and they made their way inside the doctor’s office. As she sat down next to her friend, Aelin felt tears coming up, but she took a deep breath and pushed the emotions back down. This was her friend’s appointment, she needed to be there for her. But when she got back home alone that night, she crawled into her bed and let the tears flow down her cheeks until there was none left.

…

September 2022

Her phone rang loudly in the kitchen and Aelin looked at the caller before answering. Elide. She hoped this was for work and she wasn’t going to try to get her to talk about her love life again. She sighed and picked up.

"Hey El!" Aelin said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hi Ae!" the other woman said in a chirpy excited voice. "I have something to tell you. I wanted you to be the first to know."

Aelin made a puzzled face the other woman couldn’t see so she urged her to go on.

"Lorcan asked me to marry him!" she exclaimed in a high pitch voice that was definitely unlike her friend.

Aelin was shocked at first, but then she smiled, happy for her.

"And you told him to go to hell I hope?" she joked.

Elide ignored her sarcastic tone and continued.

"I’m getting married, Aelin! I can’t believe it. This is crazy."

"I’m so happy for you, El, you deserve to be loved like this. Even if it means I have to endure Lorcan for the rest of my life," Aelin said, half-joking this time.

Elide started explaining how Lorcan proposed to her and her reaction. She sounded so elated and overjoyed. Aelin was happy for her, truly. But she had to admit to herself that she was a bit jealous of her happiness. She tried to focus on what Elide was saying and stop thinking about herself. This was her best friend’s moment.

Elide rambled on about the ring Lorcan picked for her and the future wedding. She was really excited and had a lot to say. Aelin listened attentively and calmed her down when she suddenly got worried about the pattern of the napkins of all things.

"Anyway," concluded Elide, "that’s enough about me. What about you? Are you still seeing that guy? What was his name again? Noah?"

"Nox? No, it didn’t work out. It didn’t feel right, " she replied, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

"Like it didn’t feel right with Dorian? And every guy you’ve dated in the past years?" she asked, knowing her too well.

"Elide…" she started.

"Is there anyone else? On your mind, I mean?" asked the dark-haired woman.

"No. I mean… yeah, but no. It’s impossible."

"What do you mean, impossible? Nothing is impossible. You deserve to be happy too."

"I’ve made my peace a long time ago that we were not meant to be; it’s okay, really," Aelin said in a voice she hoped would have her friend drop the topic. But Elide was anything if not persistent.

"It doesn’t sound okay. Is he the reason none of your relationships seem to work out? I’ll exclude Chaol because he was just an asshole and that was entirely his fault."

Aelin didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say to her friend. She was used to keeping her feelings about him to herself.

"Ae, come on! Talk to me. Do I know him?"

"Yeah," she said unsure.

Elide kept quiet, waiting for her to go on.

"It’s… Rowan"

"Rowan Whitethorn?!" the other woman said, clearly surprised at the revelation.

"Yeah," she said reticently. "But he’s in a relationship and he’s got a baby now," she quickly added. "I know it makes me a terrible person, but I can’t help it. Please don’t tell Lorcan."

Her friend was quiet for a moment. Aelin was waiting to hear the judgement in her voice.

"Aelin… Rowan broke up with Lyria months ago."

Silence. A beat.

"What do you mean, broke up?" Aelin asked, uncertain.

"She had a miscarriage early in her pregnancy and it was too much for both of them. They decided to call it quits a few weeks later."

Aelin didn’t know what to say. She was trying to process what she was hearing. It didn’t make sense. In her mind, Rowan was happily living his life with Lyria and their baby. But apparently, he wasn’t.

"You should text him!" exclaimed Elide suddenly.

"No! Gods no, I won’t. We haven’t spoken in months, it’d be weird."

"I bet he would love to hear from you."

"Why would he? He doesn’t feel the same, El, and I don’t want to bother him."

"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, get your head out of your ass right now and go text the man you’ve been pining about for years."

"Okay, I will," she sighed loudly. "If it makes you shut up."

"You can’t be rude to me on my engagement day and you have to do what makes me happy; it’s the rules," Elide argued.

"It’s not your wedding day yet, Elide," she laughed.

Later, she hung up the phone and exhaled strongly. She didn’t know what to make of what her friend had told her. Rowan was single. He didn’t have a baby. She felt her heart flutter, but she willed herself to calm down. No, she was definitely not going to text him, no matter what her friend said. Elide didn’t know what she was talking about.

…

Two weeks later, Aelin was dozing off on the couch, some new TV series playing on the television in front of her. She was busy recording her latest album and spent long days in the studio. A ping from her phone jerked her from her half-asleep state. She reached for her phone, wondering who was texting her so late. It was almost midnight. Probably Elide or Lysandra. But she stopped her train of thoughts when she was who had texted her.

Hey. It’s Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn. I’m really sorry to bother you at this hour.

Why was he texting her? Had Elide told him something? If she had, Aelin was going to kill her. She tried to play it cool anyway.

hi rowan yes i know who you are your number is in my contacts lmao

Gods, she sounded like an idiot. She put her face in her head. Her phone pinged again and she looked up at the screen.

Oh. I see. Well, I hope I didn’t wake you up, but I just wrote a tune that I feel would fit perfectly with your voice and your style. I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, so if you’re not interested, I understand, but I would really love to make you listen to it and maybe work on something with you?

He sounded hopeful. Like he really wanted to see her. For work, she had to remind herself, just for work.

right now?

She was already half asleep and in her PJs but if he really wanted to meet up tonight, she would get up and get dressed.

No, no! I meant in the next few days.

Well, clearly, he was not as eager as her to see him. She needed to calm down, take a few deep breaths.

yeah of course i’d be down for it! do you want to come over to my place tomorrow night? i have a recording session at the studios during the day but i’ll be back around 7

Was that too forward? Did she seem too enthusiastic to see him?

That sounds great! Just send me the address and I’ll be there at 8pm.

Aelin texted him her address, and he wished her good night and said he would see her tomorrow. She grinned at her phone like a lunatic, completely awake now.

…

"So, this is the tune… What do you think?" asked Rowan. He had arrived at her house with his guitar fifteen minutes earlier. She thought it would be awkward, but so far it went well. She tried to not be too happy about it, but she couldn’t help feeling pleased.

Aelin didn’t reply to his question, instead she got up and went to grab her notebook. She came back quickly.

"So, hum, I might have lyrics that would fit with this…" she said, feeling unsure all of the sudden.

"Yeah?" he gave her a soft encouraging smile, "Can I see?"

"Actually, I’d prefer if you played the music again and I sang along. Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, of course, sounds great."

He began strumming on his guitar again and Aelin listened intently to the notes. She tapped her foot to the rhythm.

"Lookin' right, lookin' like all the stars are faded. I remember the night, I was so frustrated," she began singing.

Rowan gave her a nod, waiting for her to continue.

"I touch your hand for the first time. I see it on your face, then another lifetime's flashin' by."

The rhythm picked up and she continued.

"I'm here, standin' in the same dress. You're in your apartment, I'm already gone."

She looked at the floor, she couldn’t watch him in the eyes anymore. This was a bad idea. But he kept on playing and got to the chorus, so she sang.

"When you left, I bet you held her body closer. And I was hopin' you would tell her it was over. You're all I think about and everywhere I look. I know it's bad, but we could be so good."

He didn’t say anything or stopped playing, so she kept going.

"Couple years flashin' by and I'm doin' okay. In the back of my mind, all I hear is your name. I bet you're happy and that's fine, but I regret just one thing: I never got to change your mind. I'm here, standin' in the same dress. You're in your apartment, I'm already gone."

She let out a breath she had been holding and focused on her singing, and not the man sitting next to her. She realized how close he was. Too close.

"Talkin' wildly out of context. I wish things were different but I'll never know. When you left, I bet you held her body closer. And I was hopin' you would tell her it was over. You're all I think about and everywhere I look. I know it's bad, but we could be so good."

He started playing the bridge and she knew this was it. He would know. But she couldn’t stop now that she had started.

"Elide calls me and she says she's getting married. She asked me if there's any extra weight I carry. And do I think about the one that got away? I know his name, I think about him everyday. When you left, I bet you held her body closer. And I was hopin' you would tell her it was over. You're all I think about and everywhere I look. I know it's bad, but we could be so good," she ended, out of breath.

Rowan kept playing the last notes, not saying anything, but she knew that he knew. He would be an idiot not to understand the song was about him. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She felt stuck to the couch and her mind was running wild. What would he think? Why did she do that? This was so stupid, she should’ve never-

"That was beautiful. And you’re right, it fits perfectly with the music. I…" he started but stopped. She couldn’t look up at him, so she waited for him to continue.

"Can I ask you… Never mind, it’s none of my business"

Surprising herself, she had the nerve to say: "No, go on."

"Did you write this song with anyone in mind in particular?"

She crossed her arms around herself, her voice was shaky.

"Yeah, I guess…" she admitted reluctantly.

Tears started pooling in her eyes and she was starting to panic. She hated herself. She was such an idiot.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this. Gods, and you just got out of a relationship. Fuck, I’m stupid," she rambled on.

She was starting to get agitated and got up off the couch. She began pacing in circles.

"You don’t have to say anything. Please just forget this. You can leave," she added, waiting for him to get up and leave like she asked.

She was so panicked she didn’t notice Rowan stand up and get close to her. Until he puts his hands on her shoulders. She startled at the gentle touch but her mind was still running wild.

"Aelin, please, breathe. In an out. It’s alright. And stop apologizing please."

He was stroking her back now, in small reassuring circles. She tried to even her breathing, but there was so much going on in her head. 

"Aelin, just look at me please."

She took a deep breath and slowly looked up at him, vulnerable turquoise eyes meeting green. He had that soft smile of his that calmed her down a bit. Her breath got more even. She couldn’t read his face, but he didn’t seem angry. He kept running his hand down her back softly until her breath got almost back to normal.

Slowly, he moved closer to her and held her face in his hands, looking at her like she was delicate and he didn’t want to scare her. He caressed her cheek with his calloused fingers.

His head came down to her level and he was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She could smell his distinctive scent of pine and snow. It soothed her. She stayed still, not sure what to expect. Softly, he angled his head and pressed his warm lips to hers. She didn’t move at first, too shocked. But when her brain understood what was happening, she started to return the kiss.

When he finally felt her moving, he put more pressure in the kiss and licked the seam of her lips. She opened up and let him kiss her deeper. He was slow and soft in his movements, as if he was afraid she would run away from him. But Aelin stayed right there, her tongue finally meeting his.

At their tongues finally touching, the kiss started to get more intense and Rowan put his hands on her waist. Aelin, feeling braver, put her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through the soft hair close to his neck. He made a noise of agreement, but then he moved his mouth away from her, his eyes opening slowly, and looked at her with his pine green eyes.

"I’ve wanted to do this for so long," he said in a rough voice.

She opened her eyes too, surprised by his confession. The surprise must have been written on her face because he gave her a quick reassuring peck and continued.

"I couldn’t get you out of my mind, no matter what. I tried so hard to be a good person and stay away from you, but I can’t anymore."

She looked at him with wide eyes but couldn’t open her mouth to say anything. It wasn’t working properly.

"I love you, Aelin. I’ve loved you for years."

Tears started streaming down her face and he wiped them slowly with his thumb. She tried to speak, but her voice felt weak.

"I…" she started.

"You don’t have to say anything right now. Take your time."

She looked at him, taking in his genuine expression and the tenderness in his eyes. He was in love with her… Surely, this was a dream. She was going to wake up and realize this wasn’t real. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. He was still there. Looking at her like she was the best thing in the world.

"You love me?" she finally asked.

He only nodded in response.

So, she did the only thing that came to her mind and put her lips back on his. She kissed him fiercely, trying to carry all of her feelings into the kiss. She hoped he understood the meaning.

He grabbed her hair, kissing her back ardently. She needed him closer. She put her arms around his waist and pulled his body closer to hers. She was burning and he was the source of her fire. He started trailing his mouth down her jaw, then her neck, kissing and biting and licking. She moaned quietly and he let out a groan at that.

She felt like she was going to explode. He must have felt the same because he grabbed her behind the knees and picked her up, so he was holding her in his arms, her legs around his waist.

"Bedroom," Aelin panted between two kisses.

She realized he didn’t know where her bedroom was, so she pointed down the hallway and he moved, following her directions. When they got to her bed, he laid her down slowly and climbed on top of her, holding himself on his elbows to not crush her. She looked him in the eyes and all she saw was lust. And love.

He kissed her again, palming her breast over her T-shirt and then his hands were on her ass, squeezing it. She gasped at the sensation. It was too much and not enough. She ran her hands up his muscular arms and shoulders before breaking the kiss and getting rid of her T-shirt. She went to undo her bra, but he stopped her, doing it for her. As soon as her bra was removed, she went for his own T-shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. She looked at his bare chest, taking in all of the muscles and tan skin. He was looking at her own body with the same hunger.

Before she knew it, they were back on each other, lips crashing. He kissed her with passion and she gave it all back. Her hands were roaming over his chest, making out the hard lines and the soft skin. He started kissing down her neck, licking the hollow of her throat, tracing his tongue over her collarbones, until he was at her breast. He took one in his mouth, sucking a nipple, while cupping and massaging the other. She let out a moan. She had never felt like this, like she was going to combust from pure desire.

He made his way down to her stomach and past her belly button, taking his time kissing every single inch of her. When he got to her jeans, he looked up at her with a silent question. She nodded. Gods yes, she wanted this. She had wanted this for so long.

He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulling them off. Aelin helped him out by lifting her hips. When she was left in nothing but her black panties, he started kissing her legs, from her calves to the inside of her thighs. He was deliberately ignoring the place she needed him the most. She whined a little and he laughed between her legs, sending vibrations to her core. He placed a kiss on her center, on top of her panties and groaned at how wet she was.

Then he was pulling them down and she was fully naked before him. He got up to remove his own pants and underwear. He was looking at her body, fully taking her in, his eyes dark with need. 

"Gods, you’re so beautiful," Rowan said, his voice deeper than usual.

She couldn’t help but roam his body with her own eyes, muffling a moan when she saw the evidence of his desire, hard against his thigh. Her moan seemed to break some kind of restraint he was holding on and he was back on her in a second, pulling her thighs open with his strong arms and licking a stripe of her center with the flat of his tongue. She cried out at the feeling.

He found her clit and circled it with his tongue then sucked on the bundle of nerves. She was making noises she didn’t even know she could make. Her hands had found their way to his hair, needing to grab onto something to steady herself and pushing his head towards her core. He seemed to get what she wanted because her grabbed her ass, and then he buried his face between her legs and started eating her out like a starved man. She whimpered something unintelligible. She was too far gone to care. She was close to the edge already.

He entered her with a finger, pumping it in and out and curling it at exactly the right spot inside of her while he was still doing wonderful things with his mouth. She was practically grinding on his face now; shame having left her body.

"Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop."

He added a second finger and she could feel her climax building. He gently let his teeth grazed her clit, and that was what pushed her toward the edge. She came hard, clenching around his fingers and screaming his name, while he worked her through her high.

When she came down from it, he was still between her legs, his lips and chin shiny from what he had just done. She pulled him up, slamming her mouth on his and tasting herself on his lips. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, giving it a few firm strokes and twisting her hand just so. She couldn’t wait anymore.

"I need you. Inside of me. Now," she pleaded.

He growled in response.

"Do you have a condom?"

"Bedside table," she replied.

He found what he was looking for, grabbed the condom and put it on quickly, and then he was pressing his hips into hers. He guided his cock and positioned himself at her entrance, and then he was entering her slowly, letting her adjust to his size. She had never felt so full, the feeling was overwhelming in the best way.

When the pain lessened, she started to rock her hips forward. He got the hint and met her thrust with his own. Lazy, drawn-out strokes at first. But when she gripped his back and pulled him closer with her legs wrapped around his waist, his thrust got harder and faster. Her back arched off the bed. She thought she was going to cry from how good and right it felt. She caught his mouth in a messy kiss and he nipped at her lower lip.

He took one of her legs and hooked it up on his shoulder, angling himself deeper inside her. He hit a spot that took her breath away and had her seeing stars. She was now clawing at his back like some wild animal, probably leaving marks with her nails, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was that she needed more, always more. She told him so. He reached between their body and started rubbing her clit in circles to the rhythm of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside her over and over.

"I love you, Aelin. I love you so much," he whispered as he thrust hard into her, and then he bit lightly into the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and that was it. Her toes curled, her legs started shaking, and she was coming again, her orgasm even stronger than the first one. She felt Rowan’s thrusts become more erratic and soon he was coming too, moaning her name like a prayer.

They lay there on top of each other for a while, trying to catch their breath. Rowan’s forehead was against hers. He was stroking her arm gently and pressing soft kisses on her shoulder. She felt content and at peace for the first time in a while.

Rowan eased out of her slowly and threw the condom in the trash before coming back quickly to lay beside her, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. They were both sweaty messes, but she didn’t care. Rowan was next to her, holding her close and it was all that mattered. She needed him to know how she felt.

"I love you too, you know," she said, her voice a little hoarse.

"That’s good to know. Otherwise, it would’ve been really awkward," he joked, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

She took her face in her hand and looked him in the eyes, serious.

"I am in love with you, Rowan Whitethorn. It killed me to think you were happy with someone else, but I didn’t want to ruin what you had."

His eyes welled with tears and she kissed him softly.

"You didn’t ruin anything that wasn’t ready to be ruined, Aelin. Me and Lyria, our relationship was on the rocks for years. I only stayed with her because we had been together for so long and then she got pregnant and... well, you know how that ended. I thought I had ruined my chances with you after that night in my studio."

"Well, then you are completely blind. I never stopped thinking about you. I should have, but I kept holding on to you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, no matter who I dated."

"Do you know how jealous I was when I saw you with Dorian Havillard that night at the club?"

"Jealous of Dorian?" she snorted. "I thought you were mad at me."

"I could never be mad at you."

"Gods, we’re both such idiots," she laughed.

He laughed too, holding her close. They stayed silent for a while, just enjoying the moment.

He ran his hand down her forearm where she had the word Fireheart tattooed in cursive letters.

"What does it mean?" he asked her, curious.

"It’s a nickname my parents gave me when I was a child. I had it tattooed when I turned 18 to honor their memory."

"Fireheart," he repeated, the word rolling on his tongue. "It fits you. Do you mind if I use it?"

She looked at him, emotions overflowing her again. Nobody ever called her Fireheart anymore. But in Rowan’s mouth, it sounded so genuine and loving.

"No, I’d love it," she replied with honesty.

He gave her a content smile and pulled her closer. His hand started absentmindedly playing with her hair. It felt right to be there with him. It was like she was finally home. Like she had found what she had been looking for all along here in his arms.

"You know, I think you should change the end of your song," said Rowan, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"What? Which song?" she asked him, suddenly confused.

"The one you sang earlier."

"Really? What would you change?" She was curious now.

"Just the last chorus."

And for the first time, she heard him sing. She was right before; his voice was low and lovely.

"When you left, I thought you held her body closer. I never knew that you would tell her it was over. 'Cause I'm all you think about and everywhere you look. I know it's bad, but we could be so good."

And it was the truth. They were so good together.

"I love you," she told him again.

"I love you too, Fireheart," he replied with a smile that brightened up his whole face.

Tag list:

@rowanaelinn

@aelinchocolatelover

@morganofthewildfire

@leiawritesstories

[rowanaelinn]

Wires - Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol, lots of cursing | Word Count: 4,200

“What do they do?” Elide asked, sitting on the same couch as Aelin, both of them watching the race. “Drive in circles around forty-five times?”

Aelin huffed a laugh. “That’s a bit more technical. There’s lots of math involved, as well as strategy.”

“So… they do drive around in circles for two hours?”

That was a way to put it, and one that most people in the world chose to see this sport. Aelin was left alone, with her sober coach upstairs as Lysandra had chosen to watch the race from the stands. She wanted to join her, but apparently it was a bad idea.

This was bullshit, but she had to show a good figure. She had to show that she listened to them, if she wanted to get free access to her pills back. Which was even more bullshit, but she supposed it was how life was.

Aedion was leading the race, but not by much. Less than half a second behind, Rowan Whitethorn was racing him for pole position. It was close, every corner had her heart leap out of her chest, hoping that her cousin would keep his first place.

But he’d had his tires for a while, now, and Rowan had stopped to change his not so long ago. It wouldn’t be an easily won race, but she prayed her cousin would win.

Not only because he was her cousin, but also because she was petty. She and Rowan, they had some sort of truce agreement, they wouldn’t fight each other outrightly. Yet, she still prayed he wouldn’t win one race this season. He hadn’t yet, hadn’t even made it to podium. Every driver had a sloppy season at one point, and it seemed like Aelin would observe Rowan’s live.

“Does watching races remind you of your father?”

Aelin’s body tensed, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe you should be reminded that you have no psychology degree, hence you are not my therapist, just my babysitter.”

“So, we’re not allowed to talk?” Elide asked, voice unhurt by Aelin’s jab.

“No, not about my father.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” she answered, and Aelin almost wanted to believe her. “I didn’t want to cross any boundary; it was a genuine question.”

“Hm.”

“You know,” she said, sitting and looking at Aelin, but Aelin kept her gaze on the TV. “I know that you are not happy about this situation, and it’s normal. I don’t expect you to be. This is a work we will do together. I only wish you to know that I’m here for you, not for your family, for you.”

Aelin finally deigned to look at her, and the woman had a tentative smile on her lips. “Please, remind me, who’s paying you?”

The smile faded from Elide’s face, and she answered, “You know who does. But the fact that your cousin and mother pay me, doesn’t mean that my purpose isn’t to help you.”

“No, it means you’re on their sides.”

“I didn’t know there were sides,” Elide stated, cocking her head to the side.

“I-uh, it’s not what I meant,” Aelin shook her head and looked back at the TV. “Let’s just forget this, please.”

Elide took a few seconds before answering, “Alright, let’s forget.”

Aelin swallowed difficultly, “Thank you.”

“So,” the brunette started again with a joyful sound. “Tell me, what do they do instead of just driving in circle?”

Aelin laughed, “First, everyone underestimates how fit these twenty guys are. They are trained to resist a lot of g-force during the course, I think during tight turns they face up to twenty-four kilograms on their neck. The steering wheels take a lot of strength to be turned. Their reflexes are cat-like, or there’d be accidents all over the track. There’s lots of math involved as well, where to speed, where to slow… Plus, those cars are extremely hot and most of them forfeit water to not have additional weight in their cars, and all the effort make them lose around three kilos per races. Well, there’s more but, that’s more than driving.”

“You seem to know a lot,” Elide said, impressed.

“I grew up here.”

“Do you like it?”

She took a deep breath, thinking about it. “I enjoy the concept,” Aelin said, truthfully. “I like the strategies, especially, it was always interesting to hear the strategists speak when I was younger. But I hate the reality of putting men I love in these cars and never knowing if I will see them again. I hate how they take risks for the entertainment of others.”

“It would scare me, too,” Elide said. “I mean, it does already with strangers. I can’t imagine having to watch my father, uncle and cousin do that.”

“Yeah,” Aelin sighed. “I can’t even ask him to retire, he lives for racing. They all do.”

“But he’s good, yeah?” Elide asked. “Did he ever have a big accident?”

Aelin shook her head, “No, thankfully he’s only been involved in minor crashes.”

“Let’s focus on this, then,” Elide said, turning her eyes back on the screen.

Aelin wished she could watch the race from downstairs, where they had more angles of camera available than what was shown on TV, but this would have to do as her leg had been killing her since the morning and she couldn’t stand for two hours straight.

They were in that part of the track with a lot of corners. It was harder to overtake in the corners, and yet every driver she had talked to had admitted it was their favorite way to overtake. And Rowan Whitethorn hadn’t been an exception to this, he showed this now.

He was so close to Aedion, trying to get a way on one side so he could overtake, but Aedion defended well. He moved his car enough that Rowan could only stay behind, or he would end off-track.

This went on for a few laps, her cousin maintaining his pole position and now the end of the race drew nearer. This again showed in Rowan’s driving style, which she had to observe as his battle with Aedion seemed to the best one this race, every commentator only spoke of it, wondering if Whitethorn would take his first win of the season.

Rowan’s driving showed his impatience he was, how annoyed he was. He tried to overtake where he shouldn’t, putting himself in danger but providing an amazing show for the viewers.

On the twenty-fourth corner, Rowan sped fast, too fast for such a tight corner, and put himself on Aedion’s left, trying to overtake from the inside. But as it was raining, and because of his speed, he didn’t have enough time to brake as Aedion’s car slipped, crashing into Rowan’s.

Her heart nearly stopped as she watched Rowan’s car flip over, going straight into the barrier. There were flames on the bottom of the car, and one part of it was entirely smashed against the barrier.

But Aedion’s car also crashed into the barrier, half crashing against Rowan’s car. The crash was less violent, something they were used to. But Rowan…

The video cut then, going on a dark screen before showing us the commentators. It was procedure during a big crash, she knew that, but she also knew why it was a procedure. They didn’t want to televise a man’s possible last moments. With her heart in her throat, Aelin stood and all but ran downstairs, ignoring Elide’s voice and the shooting pain in her leg.

She must look insane, limping down a bunch of stairs, screaming her uncle’s name. Gavriel appeared in front of her as soon as her feet hit the ground. His eyes were wide, breathing fast. He laid his hands on her shoulder, as if it would stop her from running three miles and go on the crash site. And she wished she could, she wished her goddamn leg wasn’t ruined so much that climbing downstairs exhausted her and hurt so much she felt nauseous.

Or maybe the crash made her feel that way, she didn’t know.

“How is he?” She asked, voice shaking and loud and high. She really must look insane. They still had the cameras working here, they had to know. She went for the screen on the left, but Gavriel wrapped his arm around her shoulder and stopped her.

“Aedion answered his radio, he’s fine.”

She shook her head. That was good to hear but… “Rowan? How’s Rowan?”

“They are trying to take him off his car,” a mechanic beside her answered. “It’s entirely wrecked, and on fire as well.”

Oh, gods.

She pushed away from Gavriel, standing beside the mechanic who was staring at a screen. He stood, “Here, take my chair.”

On any other day she would have refused, but the pain was nearly unbearable today. When she was seated, Gavriel stood beside her, hands on her shoulders as they watched. It felt like hours as a man slipped under the car, and Aelin could barely hold back from vomiting before the man came back, with Rowan beside him.

He was limping, the side of his helmet entirely wrecked, and some parts of his white suit had turned black under the flames, and Aelin could only bless the person who had invented fireproof combinations.

There was an ambulance on the side, but Rowan refused to go in it even if Aedion was getting checked in the one next to it. He refused the help of the paramedics to stand and walk as well, and instead he entered a simple black car, which would bring him back to his paddock.

She felt dizzy, then, and exhausted as well. She wished she could cry, but tears wouldn’t come, so instead she leaned against her uncle.

Rowan could have died today, and it didn’t sit right with her. Not when she knew how it felt to wait those long, antagonizing moments after a crash. His waiting had lasted mere seconds, hers had lasted hours. But even then, Aelin wished he had never known what it felt like. What it felt like to face death.

She rushed to her cousin’s arms when he entered the paddock, and he hugged her close, then went for Lysandra. As if he knew she struggled to stand, Gavriel wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Would you like to go back to the hotel?”

She nodded, too exhausted to protest. That was where he took her, making sure she had a pill against the pain on her nightstand and that she laid comfortably enough on her bed, and he told her he would call a doctor to check on her leg the day after.

---

Usually, with more pills in her stomach, nothing could wake Aelin up. She always slept like the dead, even if she never felt rested. At least it was less time to think, too high to even dream.

But tonight, Aelin had had only one single pill. It wasn’t enough to let her sleep through when someone knocked loudly on her door, so loud she was sure it was waking up everyone else in the rooms next door.

She only wished to stay in bed and curse this person out. But they were relentless, their first pounding on her door. She sighed, standing and wincing at the weight on her leg. She covered her nightgown with a robe, though it only reached a little under the hem of the nightgown.

Whoever had woken her up at three in the morning would pay with her legendary bad mood. She opened the door, ready to send to hell whoever would be right behind it. The plan had only been to let her head out and curse the person out, but her plan changed when she found herself face to face with Rowan Whitethorn.

He was holding his balance against the wall, his other hand grabbing tightly a bottle of whisky. He looked atrocious, a cut on the side of his head covered with tiny, white band-aids. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were dark as were the circles under them.

She opened the door fully, “Rowan, what are you doing here?”

He looked lost, as if he was surprised she opened the door. “Lin… What are you doing to me?”

“Go to sleep,” she said, trying to keep herself composed.

He shook his head, “I-I can’t. Aelin, you’re fucking stuck in my head, I can’t leave if you don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not seeking you out,” she said, keeping her voice even. “Rowan, I’m staying away, do the same.”

“I can’t,” he snapped. “Not when I see your fucking blue hair every day on the paddock, not when I know that you’re watching.” He stumbled on his words.

Her back stiffened, “Did you wake me up to tell me to leave?” He had some nerves, after everything he had done to her…

He shook his head, eyes closing. “I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

She scoffed, “It’s three in the goddamn morning, Rowan, of course I was sleeping.”

“Merde,” he swore, his tongue rolling his native language perfectly. “Je vais te laisser tranquille.” I’ll leave you alone.

He went to leave, but stumbled on his steps, almost falling to the floor. Aelin swore as she shot out of her room, wrapping an arm around his biceps. “Mierda, Rowan, how much have you had to drink?”

He shook his head, “Not much.”

He was a liar, but what was new? “Where’s your room?”

“782,” he sighed, “I think.”

Shit, that was quite far away. Further than she could walk, that was for sure. She sighed, “Come on, let’s sober you up a little.” She tugged him toward her bedroom, and he followed though she was unsure if he really knew what was happening. An idiot, that was what he was.

But no matter the negative feeling she had toward him, she couldn’t in good conscience leave him to fend for himself in such a state. She ignored the pain in her leg as he held himself on her shoulder to hold himself straight, pressing his weight into hers. She turned him, trying to close her door but she must have gone too fast as he turned white quickly.

She swore and opened the door of the bathroom, and he only had enough time to kneel in front of the toilet before he hurled up. She shouldn’t have to take care of such a thing, maybe she could call Gavriel or Aedion so they could help Rowan. But Aedion was with Lysandra, and Aelin didn’t really trust anyone with Rowan. She didn’t know why, and yet that feeling was still there.

She went to the sink and soaked a cloth in cold water, and when Rowan was done vomiting, she helped him sit against the wall. She kneeled in front of him, wetting and chilling his burning skin.

She startled when she felt his hand in her hair, “You dyed it again.”

“Yes.” During the one week break between races.

He frowned, strands of her hair still between his fingers. “Why?”

“I like blue.”

“And I liked you blonde,” he said, slurring over the last word.

She scoffed, then say so low she didn’t think he could hear her, “Why do you think I haven’t been blonde for years?”

But he did, and his eyebrows furrowed. “You could change everything about you and it still wouldn't matter”

Aelin took a deep breath, ignoring what he said and instead passed the cloth over his neck. “Why did you open your door?”

“I thought you were room service.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You used to be funnier.”

“Consider me thoughtfully offended.”

“Good,” he nodded to himself.

She fought the way the corner of her lips wanted to tip up, and instead focused on the sweat at the base of his neck, slightly lowering his shirt to give herself better access. “Why did you drink so much alone?” If he had been with anyone, he wouldn’t have knocked on her door, that was one thing she knew.

“I needed it to stop.”

“Needed what to stop?”

“My mind,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I needed it to shut up, because I can’t stand it anymore.”

“What is it telling you?”

He caught her gaze, and she was taken aback by how much hatred she found there. Was that hatred for her? That wouldn’t surprise her, but the knowledge of it and seeing it are too different things. Voice deep, he said, “Everything you feel about me now, my brain feels about myself. Your disgust is nothing new.”

No, that wasn’t hatred at her but at himself… Aelin was distraught to find that she disliked that idea more than the weight of his hatred on her.

The worst was, what could she say? She had no kind words to give him, no shoulder to cry on. Not anymore. So, she settled for, “At least you hate me back.”

It was his turn to scoff. “I’m trying.”

She swallowed, stopping herself from asking questions. It wouldn’t end well, that was the one thing she knew.  But instead, her brain replayed images, and she screwed her eyes shut as she said, “You crashed, this afternoon.”

“I did.”

“I thought you were going to die,” she admitted, voice quivering.

He raised an eyebrow, “Disappointed?”

Her grip on the cloth tightened, and she couldn’t lie. Not about this. She shook her head and looked deep into his eyes as she whispered, “I’m relieved.” She couldn’t imagine a world where Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t there. Even if for years she hadn’t seen him, he still had been there… But the thought of living whilst he didn’t… It bothered her. “Hating a corpse is awfully boring,” she added, when the weight of his gaze became too much to bear.

He barked a laugh then, and she couldn’t fight her lips from tipping up slightly.

“Come on, old man,” she sighed, getting up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She grunted when she helped him stand, he wasn’t particularly big—couldn’t be with his job—but he still was heavier than her and by far. She stumbled on his feet, and without leaving her room for reaction, he let his head fall onto her shoulder, his hands on her waist.

She didn’t know what to do with her own hands, what to do with what he was doing. But, as strange as it was, it was his scent that made her not resist it as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her waist. She didn’t hug him back, but it was that pine and snow that left her motionless. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep, and allowed herself for one second to think the way she had at fourteen, when she gave him her first kiss. At the way her brain had worked when she had given him her first time when she was sixteen, and at the way she had felt around him every day until the accident.

For a second, she allowed herself to believe the accident hadn’t happened. That she still had two perfect legs, that she didn’t live in constant pain and that she was still dancing every day. She pretended that she wasn’t only a shell of the woman she had planned on becoming.

“What happened to us?” He asked, voice quivering as he pulled back, facing her with his arms still wrapped around her.

Reality tore her away from the fantasy she had indulged in, and she took a step back, turning her back to him as she crossed her arms, feeling an extra layer now that she had left his embrace. “Your father happened.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Rowan defended, hiccupping slightly. “He suffers the consequences of yours.”

She faced him then, seeing red. “The sheer audacity of uttering these words in front of me, in my hotel room. Do you Whitethorns have no shame at all?”

“I get why you’re lying,” he said, his voice lacking the heat of his eyes. “I get why you’re lying to everyone, but there is no need to do so here.”

“Lying?” She sneered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A sight came out of him, and he closed his eyes. “This isn’t even about us, and yet whosever fault it was did this to us.”

Her back straightened, “It was not about you,” she snapped. “It’s about me. It’s about me being in one of the cars when they crashed, it’s about me crying and begging for help for hours on a lonely road while you were doing gods know what. So, no. Rowan, you weren��t affected.”

“My cousin died,” he said, and it lacked the bite those words should hold. Instead, they were void and empty, and it almost made it worse. “My father became a goddamn alcoholic because he couldn’t race anymore because his brain his fucked up. And I lost my best friend, she refused me at the hospital then was giving press conferences on how my father was the reason for the crash on Enda’s funerals. I wasn’t in that car, but don’t you dare say I’m unaffected.”

Aelin looked away for a second, blocking flashbacks from her mind. She wasn’t on that road anymore; her leg wasn’t stuck under half of her father’s car anymore. She had made it, there was no reason to remember the past. Words almost stuck in her throat she said, “There’s no need to remember the past. Let’s get you to bed, instead.”

She startled when she felt a soft thumb stroke her cheek, wiping a tear away. She looked up to find his warm, heavy gaze on her. He was still stumbling on his step as she guided him to her bed. There was no couch in this room, so they would share. She refused to sleep on the floor for his sorry ass.

He almost caught his feet on the carpet, and Aelin colorfully swore in Spanish at how gauche he was when under the influence. She made him turn around the bed, and then sat him on the side of the bed.

Right, now she had to get him rid of these smelly clothes, because she wouldn’t sleep next to someone who stunk of alcohol. “Take off your shirt,” she told him, still standing in front of him. Almost between his legs, actually, but she ignored that particular fact.

“I’m afraid I’m too tired to correctly please you, milady.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, not missing to call him a douche as she reached for the hem of his shirt, helping him get rid of it. “I’m not touching your pants and shoes,” she warned him.

He chuckled and said something in French she didn’t understand, then reached for the buttons of his pants. She looked away, ignoring the way his fingers worked them until he bent to rid himself of his shoes, kicking them away, and stood on weak legs to slide his pants off. She thanked the Gods that he didn’t go commando under those pants, that would have been quite a situation. Well, actually it was seventeen years old Aelin’s favorite wet dream, but this Aelin had died a while ago. Her ghost was just persistent.

He sat back on the bed, giving her his pants and shirt that she put on a chair. She held in her groan when she saw him lay over multiple pillows and half of the blanket. She tried to shake him but wouldn’t move, and she already regretting not calling for someone else. She put her knees on the bed, snatching away her own pillows and forcing him to sit so she could grab the blanket from under him.

When she was done and that he wasn’t in the middle of the bed, above a decent number of pillows and under the blanket, she went to go away but Rowan grabbed the back of her thigh. Again, she sent a prayer to Mala this time to thank her for her robe or Rowan would have made contact with her skin. “Stay,” he breathed.

“Rowan,” Aelin said, voice weaker than she’d like it to be. “Please.”

She went to pull away, but before she could entirely climb off the bed, his hand grabbed her leg. She let out a groan at the shooting pain coursing through her nerves, and she already cursed herself at showing such a reaction when Rowan’s head snapped up.

His grip on her leg was tight and she couldn’t pull away, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, pulling on her leg but he didn’t let go. “Yes, don’t worry.”

But he looked worried, and her heart was beating too loudly as he slowly sat up, still gripping her leg, and slowly broke eye contact. His free hand lifted her robe, and she tried to fight his hold, “Rowan, please.”

But it was too late, his eyes were on her ruined leg. They were wide, his lips parting. She couldn’t read the emotions in his green irises, she could only close her eyes and wish it was a nightmare as he asked, “Aelin, who did that to you?”

••••••

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[highqueenofelfhame]

Can we get a part 2 of Coach??

ask and ye shall receive! it's not as good as part one, but like, i highly doubt i'll ever top that drabble tbh. i hope you enjoy!

It was a cool afternoon, fluffy white clouds backlit by a baby blue sky. Mid-September was one of Rowan’s favorite times of the year in Terrasen. Despite mild summers, nowhere near reaching the heat of Doranelle, some days were miserable to be outside. It was a problem considering how all of their kids were involved in various sports, and Arden got a little dramatic about his baseball games when the temperature reached the nineties. 

Today it was Evie’s turn to have the full support of her family. The tails of her french braids swished behind her as she ran down the field, a determined look on her face as she focused on the soccer ball with a predator’s precision. Pride swelled in Rowan’s chest, admiring the seven year old for having such determination with everything she did.

“Let’s go, Evie!” he shouted, causing a jolt on his chest. Rowan looked down at the six month old strapped to his front. As he adjusted the small hat on the top of Declan’s head, he couldn’t resist dropping several kisses to his chubby cheeks. Several coos and tiny giggles erupted from him. This time, Rowan’s heart swelled with pure love. 

“Hey, Coach!” someone shouted from the stands. Rowan braced his hands on his hips and turned his upper body toward the bleachers. His eyes immediately locked on his wife, golden hair falling over her shoulders in long curls. She was leaning forward with her hands on her knees and a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Looking good!”

Rowan snorted, cheeks heating slightly as he shook his head and turned his attention back to the game. This wasn’t unusual for Aelin. Every time she heard one of the other moms talking about Rowan, she joined in the fun. Her present outburst was likely for that very reason. 

Evalin was running down the field, the time clock ticking closer and closer to the end of the game. But she was no match for time, pushing herself as hard as she could while she kicked and chased the ball toward the goal. 

“Yes, baby! You got this!” he heard Aelin shout from the stands. Rowan shouted his own encouragements, a hand on Declan’s stomach for extra support while he jogged down the sidelines and closer to where Evalin made her final kick, sending the ball straight to the corner of the goal.

The crowd cheered and all of Evalin’s teammates bolted toward her on the field as the final buzzer sounded. The gaggle of girls jumped in circles, hugging his daughter and patting her on the back with congratulatory excitement. 

A hard smack on his ass had Rowan jolting in surprise, reaching behind him to grab his wife’s hand while she laughed brightly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, then reached around her to ruffle the silver hair of his second born. Arden grinned up at him, his smile gapped from the teeth he’d lost over the summer. 

“You look so good in these pants,” she whispered, patting her hand on his rear.

“You’re a menace.”

“It isn’t just me. People talk about your ass all the time. One of the dads got me started. I told him that he should see you with your shirt off.” Rowan couldn’t help but laugh as she let out a slow whistle, mirth still twinkling in her bright blue eyes.

“A menace,” he repeated, just as their daughter ran straight into her mother’s arms.

“You were amazing, my love.” Aelin dropped a kiss to the top of her head as Rowan lifted his hand for a high five. Evie jumped, smacking her hand against his enthusiastically. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink and she was still a little out of breath, but pure joy and pride radiated from her very being. Declan’s arms and legs were going wild, reaching out in every direction while he babbled what Rowan liked to think was his way of letting his big sister know he was proud, too.

“Can I get snacks now? I’m starving,” Evie proclaimed, her hand going to her forehead as though she were feeling faint with hunger. She definitely got that from her mother. 

“Go for it.” With a wink, Aelin gestured toward the ice cooler her teammates were beginning to swarm around. Evalin skipped away with Arden hopping close behind her, reaching to try and tug on her braids. 

Aelin leaned into Rowan’s side, her head resting on his shoulder while she took Declan’s hat off and ran her fingers through his silky golden hair. She looked so wholly content and happy that Rowan ducked his head down to give her a sweet kiss on her lips. 

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” Her head tilted back and she wrapped her arm around his waist. Rowan grunted a confirmation, nodding his head before kissing her again. “I love you, too, Coach. And your ass, and your hands, and your mouth, and that thing you do with your–”

“There are little ears,” he teased, his hands resting on the sides of the infant’s head to block out the noise.

“I just can’t resist you in a polo and khakis.” His wife shrugged, dropping a kiss to his shoulder just as their other two monkeys rejoined them with juice boxes and popcorn in hand. Aelin sighed that her antics had to come to an end, swapping her dirty words for a smile as she slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go home.”