#tog lorcan

[shadowdaddies]

My heads empty except for thoughts of Lorcan with a size kink, if you could please right somthing with this,🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

yep I think it's canon our 7 ft tall axe-slingin' Lorcan has size kink👀

So Lorcan Did

Lorcan x Reader smut

warnings: smut below the cut, this is just pwp, size kink, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, maybe breeding kink if you squint

You fumbled for the doorknob, twisting it open as you stumbled backwards through the doorway into your room. Lorcan spun you around, your body pressed tightly between his and the door. You craned your neck - the extent to which you had to bend just to look him in the eyes almost painful - as his massive form towered over you. 

Large hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as Lorcan pinned you against the wall. It was dizzying, being lifted so high, his hard body enveloping yours as he gripped your hair, tilting your head back to grant himself access to mark your neck. 

You gasped, small moans escaping you while you writhed against his firm grip as he held you in place. “Fuck, Lorcan, please touch me,” you begged, your dress suddenly like fire against your skin, begging to be extinguished. He pulled back, black eyes taking in your flushed state. 

With a dark chuckle, Lorcan tossed you onto the bed as though you were light as a pillow. The mattress was huge, as though you were swimming in a vast sea - until Lorcan stripped off his shirt and crawled over you. His massive form swallowed the space, suddenly making the bed feel so small as his body well more than covered yours. 

Propped up on your elbows, you watched as Lorcan toyed with the hem of your dress, looking up to see him watching you with a smirk. “Let’s take this off, love,” he murmured - you eagerly shifting to help him remove any layers separating the two of you. He took in the sight of your bare breasts, a slight groan escaping him as one hand moved to toy with your nipple, his palm covering your breast and more as he tweaked the sensitive nub.

Gasping, you arched into his touch as you babbled unintelligible requests for more. Switching hands, Lorcan toyed with your other nipple as he brought his mouth down to soothe the bud he’d been teasing. You moaned instinctively, hands moving down to thread in Lorcan’s long black hair. 

He pulled away, warm breath fanning over your wet chest as he smirked, tsk’ing as he shook his head. “Hands to yourself until I say otherwise, love,” he whispered, easily grabbing both of your hands in one of his as he pinned them above your head. “Keep those there,” he mumbled against your skin as he continued his path down your stomach.

Lorcan settled above the fabric of your panties, inhaling the strong scent of your arousal as his hand splayed just above the line of fabric that spanned your hips. Your legs clenched as you felt his hand cover your entire stomach, a lewd moan escaping your lips as you looked down, sight confirming what you felt. Lorcan was so much larger than any male you had been with - or even known, for that matter, and you were burning with anticipation.

Slowly dragging your silky panties down your legs, Lorcan paused to admire the wetness that had pooled on the fabric, dark eyes watching you as he licked away the juices. You mewled, toes curling at the sight as you shamelessly begged for Lorcan to move faster. “Oh love, this is as fast as I can go. You’ll need plenty of time to warm up and be stretched out before you can take me.” 

With that, Lorcan moved to lick your clit, sucking on the bud as he inserted one finger into you. “Fuck, Lorcan,” you moaned, his one finger making you feel so full already. You started to stress, unsure if you would be able to take him. As if he sensed your nerves, Lorcan pressed a kiss to each of your hips. “It’s okay, love. If you feel any pain, just tell me and we’ll stop.” 

You nodded, feeling assured as you encouraged him to continue. Lorcan worked you a little bit longer, curling that one finger against your walls in a way that drew obscene sounds from your dripping pussy. He licked your clit furiously, distracting you as he added another finger. The stretch was glorious, back bowing off the mattress as your mind reeled, already reaching your high. “Let it go, love,” Lorcan spoke against your clit, the vibrations setting you off into an explosive orgasm. 

You hadn’t even caught your breath when you felt Lorcan add a third finger, using the fresh wetness from your orgasm to pump into you more easily. The slight burn as he worked you added to your pleasure, tossing your head back and forth on the mattress as you clumsily pushed his head away from your swollen clit. Lorcan chuckled at your movements, pressing a kiss to the bud before removing his fingers, licking them clean as he untied his pants with his other hand. 

Your heart pounded as you dared to look at his hard cock, slapping against his stomach as he carefully watched your expression. “One word. If you’re uncomfortable, we stop,” he promised. You nodded, biting your lip as your legs hooked around his waist, drawing him closer to you. Sliding his cock up and down your folds, Lorcan collected as much lubrication as he could before sliding slowly into you. 

By the time he bottomed out, you were struggling to breathe - you had never felt so full. Your pussy clenched around him in reaction, and Lorcan hissed at the feeling. “Fuck, angel, if you keep doing that, I won’t last long.” Inwardly, you thought that might be for the best, as you weren’t sure how long you could take him. With a nod of encouragement from you, Lorcan began moving in and out at a gentle pace. He looked down at your body, a loud moan escaping his lips as he watched his thrusts. 

You managed to sit up just enough to see the outline of his cock as he entered you - how incredibly full of him you were. You let out a string of curses as Lorcan picked up his pace, his hand sprawled along the place on your stomach it had been earlier, this time forcing you to feel everything. “Gods, you’re so tight,” Lorcan whispered, watching your center tighten around him as his thrusts became more frenzied. 

Lorcan licked his thumb, bringing it down to your clit as he rubbed circles, the stimulation sending you over the edge just as you felt his cock twitch inside you, warm release coating your walls as you came together. Lorcan drew out of you slowly, catching his cum before it spilled onto the sheets and shoving it back inside your core. “Clench that tight pussy for me, love. Don’t let this spill.” 

You moaned a half-conscious agreement, still in a post-orgasmic haze as Lorcan settled next to you in bed. He pulled your body close to his, and you realized he had officially ruined all other males for you.

[rainingriversofyou]

Elide x Lorcan - Artist: @madschofield

[surielstea]

Camping Affairs

Kinktober day 4: Size + Hair pulling

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.

Warnings: Minors dni | 18+ only | Controlled orgasm I P in V I semi-public (in a tent) | size kink | Hair pulling | praise I clit play | cream pie I fluff at the end

A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶

6.9k words.

"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.

"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.

"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.

He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.

All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.

With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.

"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.

"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.

"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.

Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.

"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."

He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."

"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"

He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."

I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."

"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.

I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."

"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."

"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."

"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.

He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.

"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.

"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."

"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.

I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."

His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.

"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.

From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.

"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."

He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."

"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.

"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.

I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"

"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."

"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.

I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.

"Like a hole in my head."

I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"

He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."

"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"

He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."

His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"

I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.

"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.

"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."

I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

"If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.

"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"

Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."

"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.

From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.

"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"

Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."

He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."

"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"

"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."

"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.

"Stop that," he growls.

"I will when you answer my question."

"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."

I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.

"You still didn't answer my question."

He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."

"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."

I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."

Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."

I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."

He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."

"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."

He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."

I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"

He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."

I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."

His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."

Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"

"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.

In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.

I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."

He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."

"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.

"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."

"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."

"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."

His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.

The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.

"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.

"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.

"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.

"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."

With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.

His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.

I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.

"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.

"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.

He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.

I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.

I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.

I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.

He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.

His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.

I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.

A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.

His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.

His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.

My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.

"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"

I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.

His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.

He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.

His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.

I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.

His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."

A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.

"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.

"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.

"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.

Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.

"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.

Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."

"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."

A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."

I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.

But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.

He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.

He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."

A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.

My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.

"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.

"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his

He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.

His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.

Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"

I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.

His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.

I wanted more. I needed more.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.

His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.

I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.

"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."

He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."

With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.

Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."

I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.

He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."

I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."

His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."

He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"

I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"

With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."

Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.

And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.

I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.

I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.

The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."

I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.

Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.

Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."

Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."

"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.

"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.

Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."

I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."

He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."

My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.

Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."

A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.

I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.

"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.

The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.

I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.

I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.

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[i-only-see-daylight]

Aelin: The real treasure was the memories we made along the way.

Lorcan: I almost died. 

Aelin: That... was my favorite memory.

[whatisamettafor]

I can't believe I haven't shared Lorcan as the little spoon yet. I love Lorcan as the little spoon.

[moonlitstoriess]

Oaths and Ashes-Lorcan x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Bound by oaths to Maeve and haunted by the bond he fears, Lorcan clings to loyalty as a shield against his own heart. But when a mission goes awry, forcing him to choose between duty and his mate, the cracks in his resolve begin to show. In the shadows of betrayal and pain, will love rise from the ashes?

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, manipulation, physical injury, toxic loyalty, and themes of betrayal. Angst with no fluff and an uncertain end.

A/n: Got this random idea for a Lorcan fanfic and thought why not? Anyway you have been warned, enjoy 😘

See masterlist

The outpost was eerily quiet, save for the distant howl of the wind outside. The cold stone walls did little to keep the chill at bay, and the fire in the hearth burned low, its feeble warmth barely reaching the center of the room. She stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching the snow swirl and dance in the night.

Lorcan sat across the room, sharpening one of his blades with slow, deliberate movements. The metallic scrape echoed in the silence, grating and purposeful, as if he was daring her to speak first. He didn’t look at her.

“Another mission done,” she said, her voice low, breaking the stillness.

“Hm.” The sound was dismissive, his focus never wavering from the blade in his hands.

She turned, leaning against the windowsill, her arms dropping to her sides. “Is that all you have to say?”

His dark eyes flicked up briefly before returning to his task. “What else is there to say? We survived. That’s enough.”

The coldness in his tone cut deeper than she’d expected, and her jaw tightened. “You don’t think it’s worth talking about? The fact that it was another trap? That Maeve sent us into another gods-damned death mission?”

“You’re alive,” he said flatly. “That’s what matters.”

“Barely,” she snapped, taking a step toward him. “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it? As long as we’re breathing, it’s fine. Just another day serving Maeve like the obedient dogs we are.”

His hand stilled, the blade catching the light as he set it down. When he looked up at her, his gaze was cold, calculating. “If you’re not cut out for this, maybe you shouldn’t have sworn the oath.”

The words landed like a blow, and she staggered back a step, her chest tightening. “You think I want this? You think I wanted to swear myself to her?”

“Did someone force you?” he asked, his voice sharp, mocking. “No? Then don’t complain about the choices you made.”

Her breath hitched, and she turned away, unable to look at him. The sting of his words mixed with the weight of her anger and exhaustion, threatening to choke her.

“I should’ve known,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

He stood abruptly, the scrape of the chair against the floor loud in the silence. “Don’t presume to know what I care about,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Then tell me,” she said, whirling to face him, her eyes blazing. “Tell me why you’re so gods-damned loyal to her. Why you follow her orders without question, even when you know it’s killing us. What is it, Lorcan? What keeps you chained to her like a dog?”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she shot back, stepping closer, her voice shaking with anger and something rawer. “Because I’m standing here, breaking myself for this—for you—and you won’t even look at me.”

He flinched at the accusation, but the mask of indifference remained firmly in place. “Don’t make this about me,” he said coldly. “You’re not here for me. You’re here because you swore the same oath I did.”

“And that’s all I am to you? Another oath? Another pawn in Maeve’s games?”

His silence was answer enough.

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with unspoken words and frayed emotions. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to speak even as her heart ached. “You can’t keep doing this, Lorcan. Pushing me away, shutting me out. It’s not going to make the bond disappear.”

His expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line. “The bond doesn’t matter,” he said harshly. “It doesn’t mean anything. Not to me.”

The words were a dagger to her chest, and she staggered back as if he’d physically struck her.

He saw the hurt flash across her face and immediately hated himself for it, but he didn’t take the words back. He couldn’t. Not when the truth was so much harder to face.

“Fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “If it doesn’t mean anything, then neither do I.”

Before he could respond, she turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Lorcan stood there, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, the weight of his words crashing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache spreading through his chest.

For the first time in centuries, he felt something dangerously close to regret.

But Lorcan was too stubborn to let go of his pride. She would understand at some point. That he is not meant to have a mate.

The bond, while recently discovered by the both of them, lay unacknowledged by either. Though he could see how much the female whom he has known for so long is trying to create something out of this.

But it would be useless. Lorcan knew it. He was not meant to have a mate. How could one ever have a mate after walking a lonely road for so long? Too much blood, too many sins on his hands.

Besides, he was too much of a monster to even know anything outside of pain, bloodshed, loss and anger. His shadows, his demons constantly consumed him and that was enough to draw him away from everyone. Including her.

—————

Y/n had loved him for as long as she could remember. Well, maybe not from the very start because the way they met wasn’t quite under the best conditions.

She was a rebel, part of a secret organization that went against those in power. She still remembers how one hundred and fifty years ago, she was captured by The Cadre and brought to Doranelle.

There, under Maeve’s orders she was questioned. Fenrys and Gavriel constantly tried going the diplomatic way and ease her into talking while Lorcan and Rowan would just vote to have her tortured.

Y/n smiled at the memory.

Though they all started at the wrong foot, eventually she grew closer with the males, even going as far as to prove her usefulness to Maeve and swearing a blood oath, a choice she has come to very much regret.

The boys see her as a part of them now. A younger sister and a very capable fighter with a unique power.

But Lorcan…..he has always been this way and not just towards her but to the others too. It just hurt a little more because she unfortunately grew to deeply care for him.

That is why, on one random day when both her and Lorcan found out about their bond was also the moment all her dreams with him came crashing down.

He said very hurtful things that day, how he would never accept it. How he will never even acknowledge it and neither should she.

Y/n tried, she really tried to get through to him but alas, everyone has a breaking point. And yesterday was the final straw for her.

How much longer is that prick going to choose Maeve over his mate? His fucking mate!!

How much longer is he going to follow every order of that poisonous queen and defend her in every argument?

It hurt….and she was tired. Tired of trying to get through to him. She has been doing that from the moment they met and now it was time to stop.

Y/n sighed as she cleared her mind, put on her stoic mask, straightened her shoulders and entered the sitting room of Doranelle’s Grand Stone Palace, designed specifically to fit the taste of her bitchy majesty, Queen Maeve.

Upon entrance however, she noticed that the queen is yet to arrive. Rowan, Fenrys and Gavriel were all scattered around the room, with the silver haired warrior standing next to the gigantic windows and watching the view over Doranelle and the latter two sitting on opposite armchairs.

Lorcan was nowhere to be seen but, she would not concern herself with the thoughts of him.

"Y/n! Finally you are here." Gavriel's voice brought her back as she looked to see all three of them looked straight at her.

Y/n offered a tight smile to Gavriel as she moved further into the room. Fenrys shot her a grin, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Let me guess, Lorcan was brooding too much, and you needed a break?”

Y/n snorted, pulling off her gloves and tossing them onto a side table. “More like I was brooding, and he needed a break.”

Rowan turned from the window, his piercing gaze scanning her face. His sharp instincts probably caught the flicker of tension in her shoulders, but he said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head. “How was the mission?”

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Standard Maeve nonsense. Get in, retrieve the target, fight off a few surprises along the way. Nothing we haven’t done a hundred times before.”

“Yet you look like you’ve been through hell,” Fenrys said, leaning forward in his chair. “What happened out there?”

Y/n hesitated, feeling their eyes on her. She knew they cared, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the emotional storm that had brewed between her and Lorcan. “The usual,” she said finally. “Maeve’s intelligence wasn’t exactly accurate. There was an ambush.”

Gavriel frowned. “An ambush? Were you injured?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said quickly. “We managed.”

“You managed?” Fenrys repeated, a skeptical brow arching. “Sounds like there’s more to that story.”

“There isn’t,” Y/n said firmly, brushing past him and sinking into one of the chairs. “It’s over now. That’s all that matters.”

The males exchanged glances, their concern evident, but they didn’t press further. Instead, Fenrys leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Well, next time, try not to steal all the excitement. We’ve been stuck here dealing with Maeve’s mood swings. Honestly, I’d take an ambush over her any day.”

Y/n allowed herself a small chuckle. “Careful, Fenrys. She might hear you.”

“Let her,” Fenrys said with a smirk. “I live to irritate her.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You live to irritate everyone.”

“True,” Fenrys admitted, grinning. “But I do it so well.”

The light banter was a welcome distraction, and Y/n felt some of the tension in her chest ease. For a moment, it was almost enough to forget the weight of the bond, the mission, and Lorcan’s cold words. Almost.

The grand double doors swung open with a creak, and the room fell silent as Maeve swept in, her dark hair gleaming and her presence commanding as ever. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on Y/n before flicking to the others.

“Good,” Maeve said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. “You’re all here.”

Y/n straightened in her seat, instinctively falling into the poised composure Maeve demanded. But then her heart sank as another figure stepped into the room behind the queen.

Lorcan.

His towering presence was as dark and imposing as ever, but it was the way he stood at Maeve’s side, slightly behind her like a shadow, that made Y/n’s stomach churn. He looked as though he belonged there, loyal and unyielding, his gaze sweeping over the room without a flicker of acknowledgment in her direction.

Fenrys stiffened, his usual easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. Rowan’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. Gavriel was the only one who spoke, his voice calm but tense. “Maeve. Lorcan. What’s the occasion?”

Maeve’s smile was sharp, predatory. “A new directive,” she said, her gaze landing on Y/n. “But first, I’d like to hear about your little adventure.”

Y/n clenched her fists, forcing herself to meet Maeve’s piercing gaze. “The mission was completed successfully,” she said evenly. “We retrieved the artifact and neutralized the threats.”

Maeve’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes glittered with something that made Y/n’s skin crawl. “Good. I expected no less.”

Lorcan said nothing, his face carved from stone, but his silence was louder than any words. It echoed in the room, in her chest, as Maeve began to speak of their next orders, her voice a cold melody weaving a new web of commands. Y/n barely heard her, her focus splintered by the man standing silently by the queen’s side, the mate who had once again chosen duty over her.

“And you,” Maeve said, her voice honeyed and venomous all at once. “I have a special task for you.”

Y/n’s spine straightened, her expression unreadable, her mask firmly in place. “Of course, my queen.”

Maeve tilted her head, a mockery of affection flickering in her eyes. “I’ve decided to send you on a mission of utmost importance. Alone.”

The room tensed. Fenrys shifted in his seat, his golden eyes flicking to Y/n with concern. Gavriel’s brows furrowed, his mouth opening as if to protest, but one glance from Maeve silenced him. Even Rowan, stoic as ever, allowed his jaw to tighten, his fingers flexing where they rested at his side.

She was never sent on a mission alone. It was always with one of the members because 1. Maeve, no matter how much she pretended, never trusted y/n and 2. The males would always manage to protest against her going alone, though it is not something she hasn't done before.

Y/n didn’t flinch. She didn’t allow even the faintest crack in her calm facade. “What would you have me do?”

Maeve’s smile widened, pleased with her composure. “There is a rebel camp in the northern cliffs. They’ve been meddling in my affairs, intercepting important supplies. I want you to dismantle them—destroy their operation entirely.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Rowan finally broke it, his voice carefully measured. “The northern cliffs are treacherous, especially this time of year.”

“Which is precisely why I’m entrusting this to her,” Maeve said smoothly, her gaze never leaving y/n. “She has proven herself capable time and time again. Haven’t you?”

Y/n inclined her head. “I’ll see it done.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Lorcan’s face, but he stayed silent, his broad shoulders stiff. Fenrys leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “With all due respect, this is suicide. Send at least one of us with her.”

Maeve’s expression hardened, her voice cutting like a blade. “Did I ask for your opinion, Fenrys?”

He clenched his jaw, leaning back in his chair but shooting y/n a glance filled with unspoken worry. Gavriel tried next, his tone more diplomatic. “She is capable, yes, but even the most skilled warriors can be overwhelmed. Perhaps a small team would ensure success.”

Maeve’s gaze snapped to him, her smile razor-sharp. “Are you questioning my decision, lion?”

“No, my queen,” Gavriel said softly, bowing his head.

Maeve turned back to y/n, her tone almost sweet again. “I trust you will not fail me.”

“I won’t,” y/n said evenly, ignoring the tension radiating from every male in the room.

“Good,” Maeve said, stepping closer, her presence suffocating. “You leave at dawn.”

Without another word, Maeve swept out of the room, her dark gown trailing behind her like the shadow of death itself. And Lorcan behind her.

As the door closed, the room erupted.

But even through all the worries, all the scoldings, all the words said by the three males, her brothers, y/n's mind was only filled with the sense of betrayal.

He didn't even protest. Didn't even stand against Maeve. Didn't even offer to join y/n. His mate.

This has to be some cruel joke fate is playing on her.

----------

Y/n was alone, methodically packing her gear. Her hands worked quickly, though her mind was a maelstrom. She refused to dwell on the danger of the mission, on the implications of Maeve sending her alone. This was just another test, another way to prove she could survive whatever hell was thrown her way.

A knock sounded at her door. She didn’t bother turning, knowing who it was. “What do you want, Lorcan?”

The door opened without her invitation, and he stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him. He didn’t speak at first, his dark eyes scanning her as if trying to decipher her thoughts. Finally, he said, “You shouldn’t go.”

She didn’t stop packing. “Not your decision to make.”

“It’s reckless,” he snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Maeve’s playing games, and you’re letting her.”

Y/n spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “Letting her? Did you not hear me back there? She gave me an order, Lorcan. What would you have me do, defy her?”

His silence was damning.

“Exactly,” she said bitterly, turning back to her pack. “You’d rather I die proving myself than risk questioning her.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening, but she rounded on him.

“Fair?” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. “What part of this is fair, Lorcan? The bond? This gods-damned oath? Maeve holding our lives in her hands? I don’t see you fighting for anything better.”

“I’m not the one running into death for her approval,” he shot back, his tone colder now, defensive.

“No,” she said quietly, the words cutting deeper because they were true. “You’re just the one standing by while she destroys us.”

He flinched as if struck, but she didn’t stop. “You chose her again, Lorcan. You always choose her.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “She is my queen.”

“And I’m your mate!” she yelled, the words tumbling out before she could stop them, raw and exposed. “Or does that mean nothing to you?”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His dark eyes burned with emotion, but when he finally spoke, his voice was icy. “It doesn’t change anything. And we are not mates."

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her like a physical blow. “You really are a coward, Lorcan.”

Before he could respond, she shoved past him, her pack slung over her shoulder, and walked out the door. She didn’t look back, even when she thought she heard him whisper her name.

When she reached the stables, she mounted her horse and rode into the night, the frigid wind biting at her skin. But the cold was nothing compared to the ache in her chest, the one that reminded her she was truly, irrevocably alone.

The northern cliffs were as treacherous as y/n had anticipated. The jagged terrain, biting winds, and freezing temperatures made every step a trial. Her days were spent navigating narrow paths carved into the mountainside, her sharp eyes scanning for signs of movement. At night, she set up meager camps, always alert for threats, her weapons and magic ready for use. Sleep came in fleeting moments, her instincts honed to the dangers lurking in the shadows.

It had been five days since she left the fortress. Five days of cold, isolation, and silence. She told herself that she didn’t mind the solitude—it was better than the suffocating weight of Lorcan’s words or the betrayal she’d felt when Maeve’s command echoed through the room.

Still, the mission felt… off. She’d found no sign of the rebel camp Maeve had described. The cliffside paths, though rugged, showed no indication of regular travel, and the forests below were eerily still. It was as if the cliffs themselves were abandoned, yet Maeve had insisted that rebels were causing disruption in the area.

“She sent me here for a reason,” y/n thought bitterly, though she wasn’t sure if it was to succeed or fail.

On the sixth day, y/n stumbled upon a narrow gorge that seemed to fit the description of a potential rebel hideout. The entrance was obscured by thick overgrowth, and the cliffs loomed high above, casting long shadows over the path. She hesitated, her instincts prickling. This was the first sign of anything remotely suspicious since she’d arrived.

Cautiously, she advanced, her sword unsheathed as her senses sharpened instinctively. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. Blood.

She moved swiftly, keeping to the edges of the path. It led to a clearing—a small encampment, or what was left of one. The ground was littered with debris, tents torn apart, supplies scattered as if a storm had swept through. But it wasn’t a storm. The claw marks gouged into the rock told her that something—or someone—had done this.

Kneeling, she examined a broken weapon—a sword, its blade snapped in half. Blood stained the hilt, fresh enough that it hadn’t dried entirely. Her pulse quickened. She was being watched.

The sound of a snapping twig behind her made her whirl, sword raised, ready to strike—but nothing was there.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into her from the shadows. She forced herself to stay calm, to think. If this was a rebel camp, they wouldn’t leave it undefended. If they were gone, where had they gone? And why did the destruction look staged?

Her heart sank as realization dawned. This wasn’t a rebel camp. This was a trap.

The first arrow whistled past her ear, embedding itself into the rock behind her. She ducked instinctively, rolling into a crouch as more arrows followed, peppering the ground where she’d stood. Her claws gleamed in the dim light as she shot forward, seeking cover behind a crumbled tent.

Voices echoed through the gorge—low, guttural commands that sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t see them yet, but they were closing in.

Y/n moved quickly, her breaths steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She darted from cover to cover, her sword slicing through any obstacle in her way. The first attacker emerged—a tall man clad in dark leathers, his face obscured by a hood. He lunged at her with a blade, but she sidestepped, her dark magic aimed right at his chest. He fell with a gurgled cry.

Another came from the right, and she barely dodged the strike aimed at her side. She spun, driving her small but sharp knife into his arm and kicking him backward. But for every one she took down, two more appeared.

Soon, she was surrounded.

Y/n fought like the rebel she was, every movement precise and lethal. She used the terrain to her advantage, leaping onto rocks and darting through narrow paths. 

But there were too many.

An arrow grazed her leg, the sharp pain momentarily throwing her off balance. A sword nicked her arm, blood staining her sleeve. Her breaths came heavier now, her strength waning.

One of the attackers—a burly man with a scar down his face—stepped forward, a cruel grin spreading across his features. “The Queen sends her regards,” he sneered, raising his blade.

Y/n’s heart sank. Maeve had sent her here to die.

The realization stole the last of her resolve. She faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

The scarred man’s fist connected with her stomach, and she doubled over, the air knocked from her lungs. Before she could recover, another blow landed against her temple, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Her vision blurred, and the world tilted as she tried to push herself up. Hands grabbed her, wrenching her arms behind her back. She struggled, but she was too weak, too drained.

A final strike—a boot slamming into her ribs—left her gasping for air. The edges of her vision darkened, her body refusing to obey her commands.

As she was dragged to her knees, she heard the scarred man chuckle. “Tie her up. The Queen wants her alive—at least for now.”

Y/n’s head lolled to the side, her strength gone. The world around her faded into darkness, the sounds of her captors’ laughter echoing in her ears.

Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was bitter and raw.

She sent me here to die, and I have no one left to fight for.

---------

The first week of her absence, Lorcan told himself he was being irrational. She was skilled, ruthless even, and capable of handling herself. Maeve had sent her on this mission for a reason, and despite his misgivings, he trusted y/n to see it through. He buried his worry beneath grueling training sessions and the cold edge of duty, convincing himself that she would return victorious, her sharp wit ready to cut him down the moment he dared to question her ability.

By the second week, unease began to fester. There had been no word from her—no missives sent, no whispers of success or failure. Maeve brushed off his inquiries with a dismissive wave, her cold smile tightening when he pressed. “She’s completing her task, Lorcan. You wouldn’t dare doubt her, would you?”

The third week unraveled him. He had spent every waking moment pacing the grounds, his chest constricting with an unbearable weight. Nightmares plagued him when he did manage to sleep, visions of her broken body haunting his mind. He snapped at everyone—Gavriel, Fenrys, even Rowan—driving wedges into bonds already frayed by his aloofness.

Now, a full month had passed, and there was no room left for denial.

“She’s dead,” Fenrys growled, pacing the chamber like a caged wolf. “Or worse.” His golden eyes were wild, his usually jovial demeanor replaced with simmering fury. “We all know Maeve doesn’t send anyone on a mission like this without an ulterior motive.”

Gavriel sat at the table, his head bowed, his fists clenched. “We don’t know that,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed the hope he was struggling to hold onto.

Rowan leaned against the far wall, his sharp features carved with tension. “Have you noticed Maeve hasn’t mentioned her once since she left? Not a word about the mission or her progress. That’s deliberate.”

Lorcan stood apart from them, his back to the room, staring out the window at the moonlit forest. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, and his nails had bitten into his palms, drawing blood.

“She’s alive,” he said at last, his voice low and trembling with suppressed rage.

Fenrys stopped pacing, glaring at him. “You don’t know that. You have no idea what she’s endured out there—alone—while you stood by and let her go.”

The accusation struck like a blade, and Lorcan whirled around, his black eyes blazing. “You think I don’t know that?” he snarled. “You think I don’t feel it every second of every gods-damned day?”

The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension.

“What are you saying?” Gavriel asked, his voice cautious.

Lorcan’s hands trembled as he raked them through his hair, his composure shattering. “She’s my mate,” he admitted, the words spilling out like poison. “She’s my mate, and I let her go. I chose Maeve over her because I was too much of a coward to—” His voice broke, and he turned away, his shoulders heaving.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“You’re telling us this now?” Rowan’s voice was cold, laced with anger. “After she’s been missing for a month?”

“I thought she’d come back,” Lorcan said hoarsely. “I thought she’d be fine. She’s strong. She’s—” His voice cracked, and he slammed a fist against the wall. “I failed her. I failed her because I didn’t want to admit what she meant to me.”

Fenrys sneered, his rage barely contained. “And now she’s out there, suffering gods know what, because of you.”

Despite their anger, the Cadre couldn’t abandon her. She was one of their own—or at least, she had been before Maeve’s manipulations twisted their loyalties.

Rowan took charge, his strategic mind cutting through the chaos. “We’ll have to do this without Maeve finding out. If she even suspects we’re undermining her, she’ll punish us all.”

“And y/n,” Gavriel added grimly.

Lorcan barely heard them, his mind consumed with images of her—alone, wounded, dying. He couldn’t let himself think she might already be dead. If she was gone, the bond would have snapped, wouldn’t it? But it hadn’t. It was still there, faint but unbroken, like a fragile thread connecting him to her.

“We’ll start at the cliffs,” Rowan continued. “That’s where she was sent. If Maeve wanted her gone, she wouldn’t make it easy to find her body—or what’s left of it.”

Fenrys shot Lorcan a glare. “You’d better hope she’s alive, or I’ll make you wish you’d died with her.”

The journey to the cliffs was brutal, the terrain unforgiving. They traveled under the cover of night, avoiding Maeve’s spies and using every ounce of their combined skill to remain undetected.

They did not rest. Not even once. And even if they did, Lorcan knew that he would leave his brothers behind to find her. He would not rest until he found her. Hopefully, alive because if not....

Lorcan did not want to think about that and the hell he would raise if that were the case.

When they reached the cliffs, the sight that greeted them confirmed their worst fears. Blood stained the ground, long since dried, and the remnants of a camp lay scattered, eerily quiet.

“She was here,” Gavriel said, his voice tight with anguish.

Lorcan knelt, his fingers brushing the bloodied earth. It felt wrong—cold and empty, as if the life had been drained from the place. His chest tightened, and the bond tugged at him, faint but insistent.

“She’s close,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “She’s still alive.”

The Cadre exchanged wary glances, but they followed him deeper into the gorge, their weapons drawn.

They found her at dawn.

She was chained to a rock in a dark cavern, her body battered and broken. Her clothes were torn, her skin marred with bruises and cuts, and her breathing was shallow. Her once-bright eyes were closed, her face pale and gaunt.

Lorcan froze, his heart shattering at the sight.

“She’s alive,” Fenrys said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lorcan didn’t wait. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he broke the chains binding her. “y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, wildling, wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze met his. There was no recognition in her eyes, only pain and exhaustion.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As he cradled her broken body in his arms, the weight of his guilt crashed down on him. He had failed her in every way possible, but he wouldn’t fail her again.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Rowan said, his voice tight. “Before Maeve realizes what we’ve done.”

Lorcan nodded, his jaw set with determination. He would burn the world for her, tear it apart piece by piece if he had to.

And when Maeve found out, he would be ready.

Lorcan cradled y/n against his chest as they made their way out of the cavern, her body limp and fragile in his arms. Her shallow breathing was the only reassurance he had that she was still alive. His every instinct screamed at him to run, to put as much distance as possible between them and this gods-forsaken place, but he knew better. They weren’t safe yet.

The bond tugged at him, a faint but insistent reminder of her fragility. It was his lifeline now, urging him forward through the oppressive darkness of the cliffs.

Rowan took point, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows ahead. Gavriel brought up the rear, his sword drawn and his senses on high alert. Fenrys prowled beside Lorcan, his golden eyes flashing with barely-contained fury.

“She’s too quiet,” Fenrys muttered, his voice low and tense. “We need to move faster.”

“She’s breathing,” Lorcan snapped, though his voice wavered. “That’s all that matters right now.”

The moment they stepped out of the cavern into the pale light of dawn, the attack came.

A hail of arrows rained down from the cliffs above, forcing them to scatter. Lorcan twisted his body, shielding y/n with his own as he dove behind a jagged boulder.

“Move!” Rowan barked, his wind magic deflecting the arrows with a gust that sent them clattering harmlessly to the ground.

The enemy poured down the rocky slopes—Maeve’s minions, cloaked in shadow and armed to the teeth. Their feral grins gleamed in the dim light, their eyes alight with cruel intent.

“They know we have her!” Fenrys shouted, drawing his twin blades.

Gavriel let out a low growl, his lion-like strength cutting through the first wave of attackers. “We’ll have to fight our way out!”

Lorcan’s grip on y/n tightened as he pressed his back against the boulder, his mind racing. He couldn’t fight—not with her in his arms—but he also couldn’t let her go.

Rowan appeared at his side, his ice-blue eyes blazing. “Can you hold them off while I take her?”

“No,” Lorcan snapped. The thought of letting her out of his grasp was unbearable. “You clear the path. I’ll carry her.”

Rowan hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Stay close.”

Chaos erupted as the cadre launched themselves into the fray. Rowan’s wind and ice magic tore through the ranks of their attackers, sending bodies flying into the jagged rocks. Fenrys moved like a shadow, his blades flashing as he cut down anyone who got too close. Gavriel fought with brutal precision, his strikes swift and lethal.

But their enemies kept coming, waves of them spilling out of the cliffs like a swarm.

Lorcan’s every step was a battle. He ducked and weaved through the melee, his muscles burning from the effort of carrying y/n’s dead weight while avoiding strikes. His sword remained sheathed—his focus was entirely on her.

“Lorcan, behind you!” Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan twisted just in time to see a dagger aimed at his back. He snarled, releasing a pulse of his power that sent the attacker sprawling. The effort cost him, though—his legs trembled as he stumbled forward, the weight of y/n and his exhaustion dragging him down.

A group of Maeve’s soldiers broke through Rowan’s defenses, their eyes locked on Lorcan and y/n.

“Over my dead body,” Lorcan growled, shifting her weight slightly as he braced himself for the charge.

But before they could reach him, a silver blur streaked past—Fenrys. He leapt into the fray, his movements a deadly dance as he tore through the soldiers with savage efficiency.

“You’re slowing us down,” Fenrys barked as he dispatched the last of them.

“Shut up and fight,” Lorcan snarled back.

Rowan’s sharp whistle cut through the chaos. “Now! Move!”

The cadre regrouped, their enemies momentarily scattered. Rowan’s magic formed a protective barrier of ice and wind, giving them a few precious seconds to retreat.

“We’re not going to hold them off forever,” Gavriel warned as they sprinted toward the treeline.

“We just need to make it far enough to lose them,” Rowan said, though his tone was grim.

Lorcan’s chest burned with every breath, but he didn’t stop. Y/n’s head lolled against his shoulder, her face pale and bloodied. Hold on, he willed her silently. Just hold on.

As they reached the forest, Rowan dropped the barrier, and the group plunged into the shadows of the trees. The dense undergrowth slowed their pursuers, giving the cadre a chance to put some distance between them.

“We need to split up,” Rowan said. “Fenrys, take Gavriel and lead them away. Lorcan and I will take y/n and head for the rendezvous point.”

Fenrys opened his mouth to argue, but a single look from Rowan silenced him.

“Go,” Rowan ordered.

With a growl, Fenrys and Gavriel peeled off, drawing the enemy’s attention.

The silence that followed was deafening. Only the sound of Lorcan’s ragged breathing and the faint rustle of leaves broke the stillness as he and Rowan made their way deeper into the forest.

When they finally stopped, Lorcan sank to his knees, cradling y/n as though she might disappear if he let go.

“She’s alive,” Rowan said, though his voice was heavy with doubt. “But barely.”

Lorcan couldn’t respond. His hands trembled as he brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from her face. Guilt and rage warred within him, threatening to consume him whole.

“We’ll get her back,” Rowan said, his voice firm. “But you need to keep it together.”

Lorcan’s jaw tightened as he looked up at Rowan. “If she dies…” His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“She won’t,” Rowan said, his eyes fierce. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”

Lorcan nodded, swallowing hard as he forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t let her die. Not like this. Not when he had failed her so utterly.

And Maeve… Maeve would pay for this.

------

The first thing Y/N registered was the scent of wood smoke and herbs, mingling with the faint, earthy aroma of rain-soaked soil. The air was warm, almost stifling, and it felt heavier than it should have. Her body ached with a dull, persistent throb, as though she had been wrung out and left to dry.

She blinked against the dim light filtering through a small, cracked window, her vision swimming before settling on the modest, cramped interior of a hut. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, the roof thatched, and a single table sat in the corner, cluttered with vials and bandages.

Where am I?

The thought was fleeting, overridden by a sudden awareness of weight—solid, grounding, and entirely foreign—pressing against her. She shifted slightly, hissing at the pull of her tender muscles, and turned her head to look down.

Her breath caught.

Lorcan.

His head was resting on her stomach, his dark hair falling in unruly strands over his face. His massive frame was hunched over, as though even in sleep, he couldn’t quite relax. One arm was draped over her waist, the other gripping the edge of the makeshift bed she lay on. His hold was tight, almost desperate, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go.

For a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—something in her chest softened. He looked so unlike himself, so vulnerable and human, and it was a stark contrast to the cold, stoic warrior she knew.

But then it all came rushing back.

The mission. The ambush. The betrayal. His cruel words.

Her face hardened, and a sharp burst of anger surged through her. How dare he?

Without thinking, she raised her hand and swatted the back of his head.

Lorcan jolted awake instantly, his head snapping up as his body went rigid, his instincts kicking in. His hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there, his eyes wild and dark, scanning for danger.

Then his gaze landed on her, and he froze.

“Y/N?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, raw with disbelief.

Her eyes, dull and tired, met his. “Surprised to see me alive?” she asked, her tone cutting but drained of its usual bite.

Relief flooded his features, followed quickly by a maelstrom of emotions she couldn’t decipher—shock, guilt, anger at himself, and something she wasn’t ready to name.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud would make it real.

“No thanks to you,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, his hands moving to steady her. “You’re not ready—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, shrugging him off.

She wasn’t fine. Her body screamed in protest, and her head swam, but she forced herself upright, ignoring the way his hands hovered near her, ready to catch her if she faltered.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice clipped.

Lorcan cleared his throat, straightening as he rubbed the back of his neck. “A healer’s hut. A friend of Fenrys’—a trusted one. It’s safe here, for now.”

“For now,” she repeated bitterly. Her gaze swept the room, noting its sparse furnishings and the faint smell of damp wood.

“You’ve been unconscious for two weeks,” Lorcan continued cautiously, as if afraid of her reaction. “We’ve been... waiting for you to wake up.”

“Two weeks,” she echoed, her tone flat. “And where are the others?”

“Rowan and Gavriel went back to ensure Maeve hasn’t caught on to our escape, or atleast somehow keep the situation stable.” he explained. “Fenrys stayed with us.”

“Of course, Fenrys did.” She exhaled sharply, leaning back against the headboard.

Lorcan flinched at her tone but didn’t argue. “I—”

“You what?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “What could you possibly have to say, Lorcan?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might retreat behind his usual walls. But then he surprised her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and rough. “For everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t have the energy to yell or argue, not anymore. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“You said Maeve was your queen,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “You said you’d always choose her over me. So why are you here, Lorcan?”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “I was wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was so gods-damned wrong. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness—hells, I don’t even deserve to be here. But I—” He hesitated, his hands curling into fists. “I couldn’t lose you. Not like that.”

Her laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. “Congratulations, Lorcan. You didn’t lose me. But what’s left of me isn’t much, so I hope you’re satisfied.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and the guilt in his eyes deepened. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “It’s true. I’m tired, Lorcan. I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying, tired of—” She broke off, her hands trembling as she clenched the blanket.

Lorcan dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hands hovering near hers but not quite touching. “I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I know I failed you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But please, y/n... please don’t give up. Not now. Not when you’re here, alive.”

She looked away, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll fix this,” he said desperately. “I don’t know how, but I’ll fix it. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life.”

“Words,” she muttered, her tone laced with exhaustion. “They’re just words, Lorcan.”

He bowed his head, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her dismissal. But he didn’t leave. He stayed there, on his knees, as though the very act of being near her was penance.

And for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, oppressive, and filled with everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Eventually, she lay back down, turning her face away from him. “I wish to be alone.”

He nodded, his throat working as he forced himself to his feet. “I’ll be right here,” he said softly, retreating to his chair.

She didn’t respond, and as her breathing evened out, Lorcan watched her, his heart breaking anew. He had been a fool, and now the woman who held his soul was a shadow of herself. Someone who just went through so much trauma while he sat aside and watched it happen.

His y/n was gone, the female in front of him was an empty shell.

And it was all his fault.

———————————————————————

[sjmromanceweek]

♡ Announcing SJM Romance Week 2025! ♡

Hello everyone! Valentine’s Day 2025 is coming up, and that means it's time to celebrate any and all ships related to Sarah J. Maas' work. This will be a week-long event and we (@moodymelanist & @separatist-apologist) welcome any and all forms of celebration of the various types of love — fics, headcanons, playlists, art, moodboards, or anything in between.

When will this take place? February 8 through February 14, 2025!

Who can participate? Any and all fans of SJM’s couples! From canon to reader to crackships, any and all ships from Throne of Glass, A Court of Thorns and Roses, and Crescent City are welcome! Please remain respectful — the characters are fictional, but the people who ship them are not. Leave the shipping wars at the door.

What are the prompts?

First Kiss — How did your ship's first kiss happen?

First Fight — Why are they arguing? And more importantly, how do they make up?

First "I Love You" — How did your ship first exchange those three little words? Who said it first? Was it planned, or could they just not hold it in anymore? You decide!

Moving in Together — How does your ship go from dating to living together? Tell us!

Favorite Tropes — What are your favorite romance tropes? From enemies to lovers, there was only one bed, forbidden love, love triangles, or something else, use your favorite trope for your ship!

What Comes Next? — What do you see in the future for your ship? Do they settle down, buy a house, and build that white picket fence? Are they traveling the world, or staying close to home? Tell us all about it!

Free Day — You can post anything you'd like to celebrate Valentine's Day!

Please tag @sjmromanceweek and use #sjmromanceweek2025 so we can see your posts! We can’t wait to celebrate a week of love with you all! ♡

[thisfireheart]

ughhhh lorcan is so gentle with herrr

[slytherin-pen]

Decisions, Decisions

pairing: Cadre x Reader

word count: 901

warnings: none

a/n: written for day 7 of @polysjmweek

The weight of the decision you had to make was suffocating. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every shared laugh with one of them only twisted the knife deeper. Rowan, strong and steady. Lorcan, dark and unyielding. Gavriel, warm and understanding. And Fenrys, all humor and quiet devotion.

You loved them. All of them. And the truth of it was a heavy thing.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You trained your magic with Rowan, sparred with Lorcan, confided in Gavriel, and let Fenrys coax laughter from you when the world felt too heavy. But the deeper your feelings grew, the more impossible it became to keep pretending that you could pick one and live with it. The idea of choosing one meant losing the others, breaking the hearts of warriors who had already lost too much.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You pulled away.

It wasn’t immediate, but they noticed—of course they noticed. The Cadre was perceptive, predators honed by centuries of battle. You were not as skilled at hiding as you wanted to believe.

Rowan was the first to press you on it. He wasn’t unkind, but his sharp green eyes pinned you in place after he cornered you in the living room. “You’re avoiding us.”

“What?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Before Rowan could respond the others walked into the room, settling themselves on the couches. Lorcan sat next to Rowan, and Fenrys and Gavriel sat on either side of you.

Lorcan’s arms were crossed, dark brows drawn low as he glowered. “You’ve been distant.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath, trying to school your features to hide what you truly felt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gavriel’s gaze was softer but no less intense. “Don’t lie to us. Tell us what’s going on, love.”

Fenrys didn’t say anything at first. He just moved his hand to your thigh, swiping his thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. Breaking down your defenses.

You swallowed hard, hands curling into fists. “I—” You hesitated, blood whooshing in your ears. “I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean?”

Your breath came uneven. “I can’t pick.” The words tumbled out, raw and painful. “I can’t pick just one of you to love. Because I love all of you. And I know it’s selfish and wrong, and I know it’ll hurt to have to choose, but I—” Your voice cracked, eyes burning. “I don’t know how to live with breaking my own heart, let alone yours.”

Fenrys laughed. It wasn’t cruel, wasn’t mocking. It was relieved. You blinked at him as he grinned. “Is that what’s been tearing you up inside?”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Rowan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You fool.”

Lorcan’s scowl had softened just a fraction. “You think we’d make you choose?”

You blinked. “You—what?”

Gavriel scooted closer to you on the couch, taking one of your hands in his. “Do you truly think we haven’t spoken about this?” His tawny eyes gleamed with humor. “That we haven’t noticed how you look at all of us? How we look at you?”

The room felt too small, your chest too tight. “But—you can’t be serious.”

Rowan huffed. “We are.”

Fenrys leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve been waiting for you to catch up, sweetheart.”

Your brain stalled. They had… talked about this?

Rowan, so reserved. Lorcan, who barely tolerated most people. Gavriel, the most level-headed of them all. And Fenrys, wild and untamed. They had spoken about loving you, about sharing you, and they were fine with it?

You opened your mouth to say something else but all that came out was a strangled sound.

Fenrys grinned. “We broke her.”

Gavriel chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe, lioness”

Your heart thundered. “You’re all okay with this? Really?”

Rowan’s gaze softened. “We are.”

Lorcan’s voice was rough but sure. “We’ve always shared a bond. You were just the missing piece.”

Fenrys tilted his head. “So tell us, sweetheart—why choose?”

You exhaled shakily, warmth flooding your chest.

“Come here,” Gavriel murmured, opening his arms.

You crawled into his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. His large, calloused hands came up to cradle your head and rub your back.

“There’s no need to stress yourself out so much, love. We have all been together for so long. Through war and through arguments. But most importantly, we trust each other. To respect each other, to love and take care of you,” Gavriel said.

You wiped at the tears trailing down your cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, honey,” Fenrys said sympathetically. He moved closer to you and Gavriel on the couch, taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. “We’re sure. I hate seeing you so upset.”

Rowan moved from his seat to crouch in front of you. “You don’t need to worry about the logistics of it. You let us take care of that. Take care of you, you understand?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you whispered.

It felt like you could breathe for the first time in months. It was overwhelming knowing that all four of these males wanted you, but most importantly, were willing to share you. Because like Fenrys said, why choose?

[imsandra]

A Little Interruption

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Female Reader

Summary: Even the shadows know how to find the light of day.

Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 1239

Notes: I hope you enjoy this story by Lorcan. As always, let me know your comments, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is with the motivation to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

Original story, I wrote it myself. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The cool breeze and afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of Orynth's castle.

The grand hall was filled with serious conversations, military strategies, and tactical discussions.

Aelin sat at the end of the long wooden table, with her characteristic regal bearing. Next to her, Rowan remained silent, as always, vigilant and attentive. Gavriel, Aedion, Fenrys, and other members of the queen’s inner circle were in their designated seats at the table, discussing details of recent missions and alternate routes for upcoming journeys. The atmosphere was comfortable, almost familiar, despite the seriousness of the topic.

Lorcan remained in his usual spot, arms crossed, his expression tense as always. He was focused on the conversation until he heard a light knock at the door. He barely paid attention at first, thinking it was a servant. But when the door opened slightly, and a small head peeked in, he knew his peace had come to an end.

With light steps, his small daughter, with dark hair and bright eyes, entered the room, holding a little cookie in her hands. Her blue dress swayed around her as she ran towards Lorcan, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the environment.

“Daddy,” she said with her little voice, drawing the attention of everyone present, “I brought you a cookie.”

Lorcan sighed, but his expression softened the moment his eyes met his daughter’s. He stretched out his hand and took the cookie she offered with a shy smile.

“Thank you, little one,” he murmured, whispering something only she could hear, as he patted her head.

“Aww, how cute!” Fenrys teased, never missing the chance to enjoy the spectacle.

Aedion smirked, exchanging an amused glance with Rowan. Aelin, sitting across the table, hid a smile behind her fingers.

“Daddy’s busy now, sweetheart,” Lorcan said gently. “Go to your mom, alright?”

Rosella nodded eagerly and, with a giggle, left the room again. It wasn’t long before the door opened once more, and the same little figure ran towards Lorcan again. This time, she held a slightly battered flower that she had plucked from one of the gardens.

“Daddy, this is for you.”

Lorcan blinked, and this time, a murmur of laughter rippled through the table. Fenrys couldn’t contain a chuckle.

“A flower? Well, Lorcan, it seems you’ve won over the ladies,” he said with a mocking grin.

Aelin let out a giggle, and Rowan gave her a knowing look. Lorcan, with his usual limited patience, carefully took the flower and placed it on the table.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, almost resigned. “But I need you to go to your mom now.”

Once again, the little girl left, but not five minutes passed before the door opened again, this time without even a knock. The little one burst in, a wide smile on her face and a folded handkerchief in her hands.

“Daddy, I found this. Is it yours?”

Lorcan dropped his head back, visibly testing his patience while the others struggled to contain their laughter. This time, even Gavriel, usually the most serious, couldn’t help but smile at the child’s persistence.

“Daddy, it’s your handkerchief,” she said, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Lorcan took the handkerchief and tucked it into his cloak, while the little one stood firmly beside him, not moving.

“Thank you, my girl,” he said softly, before trying again: “Now, go to your mom.”

Before the little one could leave, the door opened once more. This time, it was Y/N who appeared at the doorway, a playful smile on her face.

“Am I interrupting something important?” she asked, her voice soft but clearly amused as she looked at Lorcan with a glint in her eyes. “It seems someone can’t be away from their father for long.”

The girl ran towards her mother, but before reaching her, she spun on her heels and ran back to hug Lorcan’s legs.

“I don’t want to go!” she said firmly, clinging to her father as if her life depended on it.

Aelin, completely amused by the situation, decided to seize the moment.

“Oh no, let her stay,” she said, grinning mischievously. “It’s adorable to see Lorcan’s softer side, isn’t it, boys?”

Fenrys burst out laughing.

“I never thought I’d see the day Lorcan Salvaterre would be tamed by a five-year-old girl,” Fenrys shot Lorcan a mocking grin. “You’re completely done for, brother.”

Lorcan shot a murderous glare at Fenrys, though it was hard to intimidate anyone when a small child was clinging to his legs, insisting on staying with her “daddy.”

“If you keep talking, Fenrys,” Lorcan said in a low, threatening voice, “you’re going to wish you hadn’t when I’m done with you on the training field.”

Fenrys leaned back, feigning fear as the others laughed.

“And here I thought I’d seen everything,” Aedion added, leaning against the table as he looked at the little girl. “Maybe we should take her to the next battle. She clearly has power over you that none of us have.”

Y/N smiled as she watched the scene, crossing her arms with a satisfied expression. She knew Lorcan would never admit how much he had changed since their daughter came into their lives. He was still the relentless warrior everyone knew, but with them, with his family, he had found a kind of peace that no bloodiest battle could ever offer.

Rose, ignoring the buzz around her, leaned against her father’s knee and, with a sweetness that would melt the hardest heart, bent to kiss his cheek. Lorcan remained still for a moment, completely bewildered, while a slight blush crossed his face. The others could barely contain their amusement.

“Now,” the little one whispered, snuggling into Lorcan’s neck, and with a deep sigh, let exhaustion take over.

Lorcan glanced sideways at her, completely unable to stay impassive. As gently as possible, he shifted his daughter in his arms, settling her against his chest. The little girl sank against him, her breathing slow and calm, and Lorcan let out a soft sigh, resigned to the situation.

The momentary silence was broken by Fenrys, who leaned forward with a mischievous smile on his face.

“If I weren’t seeing it, I’d never believe it,” he muttered, while the others exchanged amused glances.

Lorcan didn’t respond. His attention was entirely focused on the small figure asleep in his arms, his demeanor now relaxed, with a softness he almost never showed. He leaned down, pressing his lips to his daughter’s forehead in a delicate kiss.

“Looks like you’re no longer the scariest person in the room, Lorcan,” Rowan teased, though his voice also held a note of admiration.

Lorcan simply rolled his eyes and threw a quick glance at her, who had now moved closer to him. She smiled, gently touching their daughter’s arm before leaning down to kiss Lorcan’s forehead.

“I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” Y/N whispered.

He returned her look, a glint of affection in his eyes.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the slight smile on his face betrayed his words.

With the little Rosella soundly asleep on his chest and Y/N’s warm presence by his side, Lorcan let the rest of the meeting continue around him, though he couldn’t help but notice the knowing glances everyone was casting his way.

For the first time in his life, perhaps, he didn’t mind.

*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33

A/N: I had baby fever these past few weeks so I made Lorcan a dad, I hope you enjoyed it. It's probably not necessary for a 5 year old to speak extremely well or maybe it is, I rarely hang out with kids so I'm not sure lol

I love you guys 💛.

tags: @sidthedollface2 Sorry it took me so long and I hope you enjoyed it, kisses 😚.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Six

Series Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - mentions of pain, mentions of death, mentions of torture, angstttt, sadness, fluff

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

It had taken 17 hours for y/n to stir.

17 hours of Azriel sat at her bedside hating himself for allowing her to venture from the cabin alone and picturing himself grabbing her hand at the last second to stop her from leaving him.

17 hours of verbal beatings which would have been physical if it weren’t for his refusal to leave her side.

Aelin was furious, her wildfire blazing as blue as her eyes across each one of her limbs.

Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word, but his eyes didn’t leave Azriel for one moment, and he hadn’t unclenched his fists from the moment he had stepped foot into Prythian and scented the direness of the situation at hand.

Lorcan and Aedion also refused to move from the room, being her bloodsworn they had a duty to protect and serve her, and they felt as if they had failed in a sense.

Then there was Manon, the gold eyed witch queen with talons so sharp that they had drawn blood from Azriel’s arms when they coiled around him and demanded to know what had happened with a voice so venomous that he was sure she would drink his blood if she could.

In short, everyone despised him, and even Rhys was reluctant to offer a safe hand to his brother. Azriel understood, Rhys had only just gotten his sister back, and was feeling like a failure in his own way for sending her in the first place. Rhys was so ashamed of his request that he had allowed Aelin to preside over y/n’s care with Yrene, as well as the scouting missions she had ordered Rowan and Manon to embark upon to ensure that no attack would befall the city whilst y/n was injured and vulnerable.

The last 17 hours hadn’t been kind to y/n. Black poison poured from the bandages secured around her chest and abdomen, which meant that Yrene had to change them more often, and a fever so damning had taken over her body, causing the Queen of the Erilean Fae to sweat and shake uncontrollably whilst her body fought an internal war to win back her life. It was horrible to watch, and it all could have been avoided if Azriel had been there, flying below her and ensuring no one could pick them out of the skies, or if Rhys hadn’t sent them to begin with.

Azriel could picture it. A fond and vivid image of y/n flying above him. The rain would cause her raven black hair to stick to her skin, but it was the thin wisps of baby hair that stuck to her forehead that made the faintest of smiles to appear on Azriel's lips. Y/N seemed so unbothered up there, so... at home. Much like he found solace in the shadows, she found songs in the storms. A peace that could never be tainted.

That's what he willed himself to see when he looked upon her pallid, fever-stricken face. He willed himself to see the version of her that she would have wished. One where she was happy. One where she was plagued by serenity.

None of them could pinpoint how Hybern had known that y/n was in Prythian, or how they knew that she even existed in order to create the only poison that could be used to weaken and fatally harm her. Even Yrene had uttered that the ingredients were sparse even within Erilea. It meant that someone had spent valuable time collecting and crafting in order to inflict the pain onto y/n. Azriel swore to himself that whoever it was would die for it in the most curdling manner his mind could fathom.

It was within the thirty second minute that she stirred, her kaleidoscope orbs appearing beneath her fluttering lids and a small groan of torturous pain emitting from her lips. Azriel moved from the chair beside her to the mattress in a matter of seconds, disturbing the peace by shouting into the void for Lorcan and Aedion to call for Yrene, and the healer came quickly at their demands barrelling down the halls.

Yrene was closely followed by Aelin and Manon, the latter of which growled once she spied Azriel’s marred flesh tainting the purity of her queen. The red cloak of Manon swept against the stone beneath her feet, her claws were retracted but her teeth were poised to rip the throat out of anyone who got too close, Azriel included. Not wasting a moment, Yrene crossed the room whilst fastening her apron at her back, reaching out to lay her hand on y/n’s forehead and stealing it back with a hiss and the scent of burning flesh. “How are you holding her?” Yrene asked, perplexed, holding her burnt hand to her chest.

To Azriel, y/n felt hot, but not searing, not burning. From the beads of sweat that teared down her pallid cheeks, he knew that she was struggling to fight off the poison and the infection that came with it.

The Shadowsinger didn’t answer.

Instead, he kept his hazel eyes upon her face, tracing the slow beat of her eyelids and the quaking of her gasping lips as she attempted to form a word. “Y/N,” Azriel cooed gently, causing y/n to stop trembling for a moment, “To me,” he told her, pulling her darting eyes from the ceiling and to his face, “You need to save your energy and rest. Close your eyes and sleep. Let Yrene heal you.”

It wasn’t as much as a command as it was a plead, but she listened, shakily nodding her head and shivering into slumber, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

He felt the golden eyes of the witch queen on the side of his face, Manon couldn’t understand how y/n hadn’t noticed her at her side, she couldn’t understand how y/n’s eyes found Azriel instantly over her own. Azriel moved his gaze to meet those orbs of gold and speckled black, refusing the back down even if he did find her terrifying. “She needs Doranelle,” Manon spoke, not to Azriel despite him being in her eye line, but to Aelin who stood behind her, and to Rowan who was propped against the doorway.

“We’re stuck here,” Aelin reminded her, making it clear that she had already thought the same but knew it was impossible without y/n’s power to rip open the fabric of space and time to take them there. Aelin dropped to her knees beside y/n, the fire coursing through y/n’s veins battling against her own, and she ran her fingers down the side of her face, worry clear and fear prominent. “This King,” Aelin spat, “Knows what he has done. Your war will be coming sooner than you think, and he’ll seek to destroy her along with it.”

“I won’t let him,” Azriel growled, tone low and threatening, and eyes peeking through the thickness of his lashes whilst his hand kept entwined with y/n’s like he was her link back to the land of the living.

Aelin honed in on Azriel, drinking in the dark possessiveness in his eyes and the way his shadows flitted over the skin of her dearest friend, almost as if they were trying to shield her from the world.

It wasn’t like Aelin truly blamed the Shadowsinger for what happened to y/n, she knew first hand just how difficult she could be when it came to anything she felt determined to do. In all honesty, Aelin blamed Rhys the most and had told him plenty of times of the fact. Y/N was Rhys’ sister, he knew how important she was to other worlds let alone his own, and he willingly put her in danger. Such motions threatened the survival of Prythian, and by extension, Erilea.

The feelings of Aelin were probably why Rhys had stayed away, waiting for the rest of them to leave for the evening before spending the night at her side, reading and telling her stories of their father and sister to then only leave at the break of dawn when Lorcan and Aedion would arrive. Azriel was the only one who stayed every minute of every hour, refusing to be anywhere else, out of guilt or desperation Aelin would never truly know, but part of her was thankful for it.

Do you see it?

Aelin craned her head over her shoulder to find Rowan’s orbs fixated on the pallid body of his friend and former princess, a woman he had spent centuries protecting and training. His sight pulled from her to Aelin and he nodded, eyes flickering to Azriel who had turned all of his attention back to y/n.

Yes.

The yawning of Aedion who was sprawled across a chair in the far corner halted Aelin from probing Rowan further. The unimpressed guise of the chamber fell upon him, “Tired, Cousin?”

Aedion shrugged, motioning to Lorcan with a wave of his hand, “She’s funnelling our energy through the bond. Forgive us for feeling a little lethargic, Aelin.”

“What do you mean? She’s funnelling your energy?” Azriel asked, brows furrowed and trying to grasp the meaning in his mind.

Sighing, Aelin explained, “Y/N is incredibly powerful,” she smiled upon y/n sadly, “There are aspects of her power that she refuses to use, abilities of the darkness that she inherited from her mother, Maeve. She can absorb strength from those sworn to her and from those who offer their power to her,” Aelin nodded toward Aedion and Lorcan with her eyes softening, “Y/N is absorbing the strength and energy from Aedion and Lorcan, they are her bloodsworn, and her body is in such a bad way that it seems the dark spots of her power are grasping onto anything they can to keep her alive.”

“It’s happened before?”

Aelin smiled thinly, trying to offer some comfort to Azriel who was beginning to understand the pain inflicted upon the woman before his eyes, but before Aelin could reply, Manon’s voice echoed between them. “Once. She was in a much worse state after she destroyed Maeve, her power was drained for the first time in her life, and she was severely injured from what Maeve did before the battle. All of that put her into a state of comatosis. It took her weeks to wake.” From the heaviness of Manon’s recount, Azriel knew just how close they were, all of them, so he understood why they blamed him, hated him.

“I’m sorry that I let her leave the cabin. I’m sorry,” Azriel spoke, staring right into Manon and trying to decipher whatever emotion lay within those cold golden orbs.

Rising to his feet, Aedion crossed the room, nudging a lingering Rowan on the way, “It’s fine. Y/N is a stubborn thing, she’s pulled the wool over all of our eyes at some point.”

“Like when she sacrificed herself to secure my freedom?” Aelin asked with a smile, leaning to run her fingers along y/n’s arm.

“Or when she trailed the ilken following Elide and I and slaughtered them all without us even realising it?” Lorcan huffed with amusement, creeping closer to the bed with humour in his eyes and his arms firmly folded over his chest.

“Then there’s Skull’s Bay,” Rowan almost sang, the words being the first noise he had made since he had arrived in Velaris and the room hummed in fond remembrance.

“And we won’t ever forget how she took possession of that burst dam and swallowed Maeve along with it. She saved us all that day, even when she was barely alive,” Manon spoke softly, a speckle of humanity shining through her soul shrouded in stone, “She’s family,” was all the witch queen said, an olive branch of sorts, an explanation as to why she had been so difficult.

Noting the concern in Azriel’s eyes, Aelin lay a hand upon his shoulder, gentle but unyielding, “She’s survived worse, Shadowsinger. Don’t underestimate her, you won’t survive the humiliation.”

Silenced followed after that, well, silence for Azriel at least. Whilst he traced the contours of her face, the rest of the room spent some time reminiscing, talking fondly of Erilea which Azriel somewhat listened to but didn’t engage with. All he could really wonder was what place could be so worthy of someone so perfect, and part of him wanted to walk the streets of Doranelle for a moment so that he would be able to understand it.

Only when Yrene would periodically swim by would Azriel lift his eyes to give her a thankful smile that she would return with an unspoken warmth. It seemed as though y/n had a family of her own, just like he did, a family not of blood, but of unbroken bonds and unyielding wrathful friendship. They’d all die for one another, it was something Azriel could resonate with.

After an hour, the doors to the chamber opened and Feyre stepped in, fumbling with her fingers and eyes floating through the room until they landed on Azriel and Y/N, and she found her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her, it reminding her of how Rhys’ gaze embedded itself into her at all times.

The expectant void of words caused Feyre to float back into the room, “Rhys would like a meeting. We should discuss next steps in this war and in y/n’s recovery. Yrene can stay with her, it won’t take long.” Aelin rolled her eyes but stood, muttering something about a false king under her breath which caused Rowan to chortle a laugh as they passed by Feyre. “You too, Az.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Yrene told him softly once she realised the reluctance in his eyes and the way his fingers curled tighter around her hand, “If anything happens, I’ll call for you. I promise.”

Stiffly nodding, Azriel stood from his seat that was imprinted with his frame, he pressed his lips tenderly to the pallid and slightly bruised knuckles of y/n before laying her hand softly upon the mattress and following after Feyre, stealing one last look at the fussing Yrene as her glowing hands floated over y/n’s torso yet again.

Azriel trailed behind the group, lingering at the side of his High Lady as they all sauntered through the halls of the House of Wind. Whilst pacing through the fortress, Azriel couldn't help but allow his gaze to float between each one of the other-worldly beings. Beginning with Aelin and tracking how her arm slid around Rowan's waist, to Rowan who placed a tender kiss upon her brow, to Aedion and Lorcan who were bustling shoulder to shoulder, clearly being too large for the width of the halls, and then there was Manon, red cloak swaying at her back and moon-white hair braided over her shoulder whilst her eyes darted past every doorway like she could see beyond them.

Yes, Azriel was very sure of y/n's safety being almost a guarantee.

With all of his watching and observing, he didn't notice the eyes of Feyre drifting over his face with a quirked smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "You don't leave her side. Why?" Feyre asked quietly, catching how his eyes thinned slightly as he searched his mind for an answer that would appease her.

"I feel guilty," he tried to say, but the heaviness of his voice betrayed his words.

Feyre gently slipped her arm around his, resting her fingers on the indent of his elbow and pulling him into her side softly. "No. I don't think that's why," she gave him a pointed look, one loaded with knowing, "You feel something for her, despite only knowing her for a few days. What draws you to her?"

A more adequate question would be what didn't draw Azriel to y/n?

"I wasn't sure at first. If you had asked me why I couldn't concentrate at the High Lord's Meeting then I would have told you the truth. It was because of her. Not because she was new, or because I thought she was a threat..." Azriel trailed off, his voice softening and shoulders falling lax, like all tension had floated away, "It was because looking at her made me feel like I was finally home. There is a warmth within her, and a darkness that mirrors my own. She is fierce and tortured, but gentle in ways no one would ever be able to begin to understand. Y/N has spent her life fighting, being used for what she can offer but not being appreciated for who she is, and I think that I understand that."

"So, you seek to protect her?"

"No," Azriel sighed, looking to Feyre with a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never though she would ever get to witness, "Well, yes. But I seek to give her a life free of torment. A life of love and one void of the restraints of her station. I seek to be her freedom, Feyre."

The High Lady of the Night Court found herself blushing from sheer excitement. Feyre had noticed it the moment y/n had waltzed into their lives, limbs exposed and hair flowing, eyes glowing with the light of a thousand storms; she had seen something spark, a cog falling into place after so long tumbling around without purpose.

"Does it help that she is the most beautiful thing to walk the universe?"

Azriel scoffed, "Her beauty is incomparable to what lies beneath it," he told Feyre, glancing sidelong with a smirk, "But I suppose she isn't half bad to look at."

Feyre tried to conceal her chuckle behind her hand as they both entered the dining room that Rhys had converted into a meeting room for the sake of convenience.

It was clear that sleep had escaped him, and what was even more pristine was the fact that Aelin could not have cared less about it as she took her place at the head of the table, further solidifying her position as leader of their little merged group. Rhys didn't contest, instead he simply moved to the opposing end, motioning for Azriel and Feyre to take a place either side of him.

A usually convivial dining table now swimming with discontent from two sides.

Aelin assumed her usual position. Legs propped against the tabletop. Arms folded over her chest. Dagger gleaming in the pale lights and reflecting upon the ceiling. A warning. A dare.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Aelin's head curled to meet Rhys' sight, "Have you figured out how this world knew of her and the only thing that can weaken her?"

Silence consumed the room like thick onyx poison, drowning and dimming all forms of barely there happiness. Rhys shuffled in his seat. He had to send himself on such a mission since he knew that Azriel refused to leave his sisters side, and he had come up empty handed.

The location of y/n's downfall had been left void of any traces of armies and magic, the only sign of this incident occurring being the blood soaked earth where Rhys had stood for an hour cursing himself for even thinking about sending her away when he had only just gotten her back.

If he could, he would go back and rip the order from his mouth. He'd carve out his own tongue to keep her hidden.

"No," Rhys spoke roughly with a throat that hadn't been quenched by water in what felt to him like days. "I assure you that such knowledge has never reached Prythian. I sent word to Helion and Thesan, enquiring if such a poison were in any of their libraries. There isn't."

Lorcan scoffed and glanced to Rowan who had his lip curled upward into a snarl from his place beside Aelin, "And you believe them?"

Sprinkles of magic littered the air, casting a faint shimmer that filled the spaces of the open arched windows whilst the faint sound of laughter from the mouths of little ones echoed upward to the House of Wind.

"I do," Rhys gulped. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a hand down his face that was soaked with exhaustion. "Helion and Thesan aren't only High Lords of Prythian. They are friends of the Night Court, and their lives have been dedicated to research and healing. They would never withhold such information."

"Forgive me for not believing a word of it," Aelin muttered, fingers tracing along the hilt of the dagger on the table. "Your enemy knew that she would come. He knew she would come looking for him, and he knew exactly how to ensure her death. If it weren't for that last burst of power that brought Aedion and Lorcan to her position, she'd be gone." Aelin leant forward in her seat, feet falling flat against the ground and venom laced in her words.

"You foolish man. Sending not only your long lost sister but our queen into the belly of a beast without being able to ensure her safety. Your world isn't the only one at stake here. If she cannot recover from this then your world will perish, and our world will have lost its fiercest warrior."

Manon chuckled, pulling the attention of the room to her, and Cassian who was placed beside her leant away from the talons she was running the pads of her fingers down lazily. "In other words, if she dies here, we'll ensure that you do too. Or well, I will," Manon flashed her iron teeth at Rhys, causing Feyre to shift uncomfortably in her seat as her fingers became entwined in his own, allowing her power to ebb and flow from her essence in response to Manon's threat.

Remembering his position, Azriel's eyes manoeuvred over Manon, then Aedion and Lorcan whose fists were clenched but possessed tired eyes, before landing on Aelin and Rowan who were struggling to contain themselves. Tendrils of shadow scattered over his shoulders, dancing wildly in a brisk wind from an opened door, sauntering up and down and shaking in rhythm with a silent, reverberating thumping that was grasping at and rattling his bones.

"I think it would be wise to refrain from talking to my brother like that," the room collectively snapped its gaze to the doorway, and Aelin rose to her feet instantly.

Before them all stood a pale but healing y/n. She was grasping at her side but walked forward with a pride Aelin had never seen before, not in someone who was hours ago so close to the grave. There was something dark about her, the power itself or the contrast of her hair and eyes against her whitened skin Aelin wasn't sure. But what was clear was that she knew something, the truth and ire dancing in the dimness of her eyes. Something that could change the course of all of their fates.

Y/N's silver skirt kissed the ground as she stopped at Rhys' side, laying her hand atop his shoulder and squeezing it weakly, "I can understand being protective," y/n moved her eyes around the room, slowly raking over each one of her Erilean family, "But don't be mistaken into believing that threatening my blood is big or wise. I decided to take to those skies alone. It is my doing and mine alone."

Azriel felt his heart stop when her eyes finally found him, and he stood instantly, offering his arm and seat and feeling a sense of completeness when she accepted his touch and found comfort in the sensation of his presence behind her.

"Y/N-"

"I'm not finished," a voice of dread and death cut through the plea that fell from Aedion's lips, a voice of a ruler, a voice of one of the most deadly beings the universe would ever know. Inhaling deeply, y/n closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was preparing herself for something, and in sensing her discomfort and hesitation, Azriel lay his hand at the top of her spine, allowing every emotion and ounce of pain to wash through his veins.

Y/N visibly relaxed.

"In my sleep, the attack played in my mind over and over again, not like a nightmare, but in a way to make me see the truth. To push me to see beyond the pain," her eyes were downcast, but she moved backward into Azriel's hand, feeling a blanket of certainty and warmth coiling around her frame. "When I was flying over their camp, I felt the power of the cauldron. It was a drowning feeling, it made me feel confused almost, and I felt a certain type of dread. I was scared."

Y/N's eyes dragged down the table, settling on Rowan with eyebrows tight and fear visible within her irises. "There has only ever been one form of power that has ever made me feel like that. Maybe I was too wrapped up in what was happening to realise it."

"What are you saying, y/n?" Rowan urged, knuckles turning pale from his grip around the arms of his chair.

Without thinking about it, y/n's fingers faintly traced over the scar that had held Azriel's attention in the cabin. A morbid reminder.

"Dorian and I had a theory. That souls from our world didn't pass on into the afterlife but rather fell through the plains separating Erilea from other worlds. It had only ever really been a theory, but it was something that we couldn't stop thinking about. It haunted us in a way."

Because they had both lost a parent.

"But being here now with a poison in my veins so putrid and complex that no one from this world could have ever known of it. I realise what is happening." Aelin leaned forward, gaze flickering over the face of her friend until their eyes met. "There is only one person who knows how to make it. Only one person who would find joy in seeing me dead. Only one person who would seek to ensure the upmost pain. Only one person whose power terrifies me."

Aelin's eyes blew wide. "No," she spoke a hush above a whisper, "It can't be. She's dead. You killed her."

"What's going on?" Rhys entwined his fingers with those of his sister, feeling her fear bristling against the walls of her mind like a battering ram, splintering and wrecking the cage of her consciousness.

Realisation was floating about the room, to all those bar the Inner Circle. Rowan's head hung low, his eyes closed and nostrils flaring with each inhale and exhale, and Aedion couldn't lift his eyes from the tabletop.

"Maeve is here. My mother has come to punish me by devouring your world. Only when you're all dead will she kill me, and then can she conquer Erilea for the final time. Who knows, she might even keep me alive long enough to watch Doranelle and Terrasen burn." Y/N turned to Rhys, bottom lip almost wobbling, "I'm sorry. This is happening because of what I did."

Rhys dropped to his knees before her, taking her burning face in his hands and stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. "We'll face it. We'll face her. And may the Mother grant her some mercy when I get my hands on her." He read the depleting light in her eyes, knowing that whatever energy she had been granted was wavering. "Let's get you back to bed. We can face this tomorrow. We still have time."

The High Lord of the Night Court went to hook an arm beneath his sisters arms, but she wrenched herself away to the side, still under the touch of Azriel, and looked upward to him. It was a silent plead, the widened watering eyes and a gentle shrug that lifted her shoulders.

Azriel moved instantly, scooping y/n into his arms and hugging her tightly into his chest, propping his chin on the crown of her head as he wordlessly carried her away.

Author's Note

I know it's been ages and I'M SO SORRY

Taglist

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[shadowdaddies]

can i request some hurt/comfort for lorcan x chubby!reader? maybe her dealing with a bit of self esteem issues and lorcan praising her?

I hope it's okay this came out quite suggestive lol, it's just straight up body worship

Flawless

Lorcan x Reader

Warnings: reader is struggling with body image, not smut per say but Lorcan is definitely copping a feel so minors dni

Standing in your underwear, you stared at your body in the mirror - all you could see were the “flaws”. Most days you saw your curves for the beauty that they were, but today all you could see were what you had deemed as imperfections. Silver lined your eyes, tears threatening to spill when you grabbed at your upper thighs, focusing on how pronounced your cellulite was when you did so. 

Your sniffles muffled the sound of the door opening, Lorcan standing in the frame as he watched you judge your body in the mirror - the beautiful body that he ached to worship. A combination of lust and protective nature took over him as he crossed the room to stand behind you. 

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to hide as you made eye contact with Lorcan through the reflection of the mirror, but he gently grabbed your arms, pulling them to the sides as his eyes raked hungrily over you. 

You flushed with embarrassment at his unabashed desire, your wiggling against his grip only pushing you further into his body as you were met with his evident arousal at your back. Lorcan groaned as you pressed against him, holding your wrists to the side as the two of you watched your body react to his touch. He released your wrists, sliding his hands to your breasts, massaging them as he kissed down your neck, leaving visible marks on your skin as he claimed you as his own. 

He twisted your nipples, watching as you gasped in the mirror - a smirk on his face as he whispered, “I love when you look at me like that.” You blushed further, watching in a daze as one of his hands trailed further south, moving in comforting circles around your stomach. Lorcan knelt down behind you, at level with your waist as he kissed your hips. “I love how soft your skin is,” he murmured before leaving another mark on your hips, squeezing the fat of your ass as he hummed in appreciation. His hands slid down your legs, rubbing softly along your thighs as he practically growled, “and these damn legs - every time I see them, all I can think about is how I want them wrapped around my head while you writhe beneath me.”

An involuntary moan escaped you at his words, and you found yourself short of breath as Lorcan stood, playfully smacking your ass as he bent down to press a kiss to your cheek. “You are so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, watching your still doubtful reaction in the mirror.

Lorcan arched an amused brow at you. “Ah, you need me to show you how much I love this body, hm?” He chuckled as he tossed you effortlessly onto the bed, the beginning of a long night ahead of you.

[rainingriversofyou]

Throne Of Glass characters & couples 🤍 Artist: inkfaeart

[highqueenofelfhame]

oh, hi.

it has been a hot ass minute but i'm back baybeee. seriously though, if you're still here, still reading this, and still excited there was an update, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i love u guys to pieces!! enjoy <3

The cotton candy hues of the sunset were fading to nothing as he pulled into the long driveway to his house. Lights illuminated the edge of the path, but his house sat dark at the very end until he opened the gate, passed through, waited for it to close behind him, then signaled the garage to open. As soon as he opened the garage, his phone began to ring. 

The shrill ringtone was enough to make his heart skip a beat in his chest before he realized the name and photo on his screen. Golden Boyo flashed across the top accompanied by a picture of the two of them holding a World Cup trophy high above their heads. 

A heavy sigh escaped deep from within Rowan’s chest and he almost didn’t answer. His heavily tattooed thumb hovered over the deny button until he realized he had hardly texted anyone back all weekend. The thought of leaving his friends in the dust didn’t sit right with him when he knew for a fact that Aelin would likely yell at him for it until she was blue in the face and needed to lie down. 

Against his better judgment, he answered. Even worse: he showed up at the bar his teammates were meeting up near Lorcan’s place. While he needed to be fully ready for practice, his friendships needed nurturing as well. It didn’t matter that he felt old and tired. It had been awhile since he met up with the guys and by the time Rowan was a few beers in, he felt better about the whole situation. 

“We have practice tomorrow,” Lorcan reminded Fenrys. His tone was stern, his words were the law. It didn’t, however, change the way Fen’s eyes were roaming the bar looking for a body to explore all night. Rowan smirked, feeling the buzz from his drinks.

“That’s never stopped me before.” Fenrys winked at a man near the dartboard and Rowan watched as a rosy blush crept over the man’s face. No, it had never stopped him before. It was a lesson he still hadn’t learned: a sex marathon the night before practice or a game never did him any good. In fact, it made him play like absolute shit most of the time. “Speaking of people we’re bedding, how’s Aelin doing?”

“We aren’t sleeping together,” Rowan muttered into his pint glass. “She’s been sick a lot. Thankfully she can work from home most of the time.”

“Are we sure—“ Lorcan began, but Rowan held up a hand to stop him. He wasn’t dealing with his bullshit tonight regarding the legitimacy of the pregnancy. Rowan had no doubts, and was even happy. Lorcan was just looking out, but it didn’t stop the irritation that flooded him when he brought out his accusations and reservations. 

“We’re positive. They’re the best ace I’ve ever gotten.”

“That’s cute,” Fenrys swooned. His chin was propped on his fist while he looked at Rowan.

“What?”

“You called them an ace.” Warmth bloomed up his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. The alcohol had loosened his lips and let the truth flow freely.

“Well,” he grumbled. “All it took was once and now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You’re pathetic,” was all Lorcan said in response. Rowan couldn’t disagree. He was nothing if not a love sick puppy waiting for his girl to really come around to the idea of them. 

Pathetic, indeed.

~*~

The blender was a blur of green and entirely too loud. Rowan was definitely getting old if the few beers he had the night before led to such a hangover. Being out so late last night was probably a mistake, but it had been fun to hang out with the guys outside of practice for once. Rowan was feeling it this morning though, already several pain killers deep. Water. He needed a lot of water. 

 He knew the greens and hydration would cure his ailments, but the sound of his phone buzzing might send him over the edge first. When his phone started ringing, he wanted to throw it into the blender, too. 

Rowan wiped a towel over his face. His pulse pounded in his skull while sweat slipped down his face in lazy rivers from the workout that had kicked his ass. He stared down at his phone, the screen lighting up with the one person he truly had been avoiding since his relationship with Aelin began.

MOM CALLING…

He needed to call her. It was bad enough that his relationship was now public and he’d barely told his mom anything about Aelin, but he really needed to clue her in on the pregnancy. If that got out before it came from him she would be deeply wounded and he didn’t like the sound of that. 

The texts she sent him were always a myriad of questions about Aelin. His mom wanted to know what she was like, where she was from, what her hobbies were. Most of that could be found on a google search, but his mom was old and barely had a grasp on the internet. Iris Whitethorn preferred books and newspapers to even learning what the internet had to offer. It was the only reason he had hope that he would beat the world to the pregnancy announcement. Regardless, the papers weren’t how he wanted to find out about his relationship, and she had.

He needed to be a better son. 

That little fact hit him harder when he looked through his texts with his mom. All of them were incoming with varying questions about the girl in the photos. What was going on? Who was she? She’s awfully pretty. Rowan felt like he barely had any answers, so he hadn’t responded. While he sipped down his green juice and devoured his breakfast, he vowed to respond to her later today. A phone call was in order for all the shit he had to relay to her at this point. 

Was a phone call enough to tell her about the baby? Probably not. Fuck. 

Rowan’s hands raked through his hair while he gave himself a moment to groan his frustrations into the universe, hoping the answers would come back to him. There was no time for him to go see her soon. By the time he found a date that would work for both he and Aelin, it might be too late. She could be showing by then with rumors swirling through the media. He had no fucking idea how to tell her anyway. A flurry of emotions ran through his mind while he changed and got ready for practice. All of this would, unfortunately, have to wait.

Nothing yet from Aelin.. Rowan frowned. Sure, it was a bright and early 7 AM, but she was usually already up and getting her day started. He texted her first, wishing her a good day with hopes she felt better. 

Rowan sighed heavily.  The secret he was keeping curled into a ball in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could avoid telling her. Well, avoid wasn’t the right word. He just didn’t have the words to tell her he got a girl he barely knows pregnant and, yes, it’s actually his baby. It was still early, anyway. Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him. He would make a trip to go and see her soon and tell her then.

>> Mom: I want to know about this girl you’re seeing, Rowan Matthias.

<< Rowan: I’ll call you after practice. I promise.

>> Mom: You better. 

~*~

Last night had been fun, but all the sprints and drills during practice were making Rowan nauseous. For the second time today, sweat was streaking down his entire body while he squirted water into his mouth. Gods, Coach was on one. It was like he knew every time there was a night out and made them work even harder. 

Rowan was relieved when they were told to hit the showers. The guys followed behind him, Fenrys groaning about a persistent headache between his eyes. Even Lorcan, who was an absolute tank when it came to alcohol, was cursing and moaning. It would have been funny if he wasn’t in the same boat.

The steaming shower he stepped into was almost holy. Hot water pelted his body while he washed himself, taking a little more time than usual because of his ailments. He could feel his muscles loosening with every breath he took and Gods, it felt so good. When he finally wrapped it up, he quickly dried and got dressed. His friends were teasing each other while they did the same. 

“Go a little too hard last night, Lorcan?” Fenrys crooned, wrapping his golden curls into a messy bun atop his head.

“I really don’t think you want to go down this road, pup,” he grumbled back. A smile twitched at the corner of Rowan’s lips as he grabbed his phone, deciding now was as good a time as any to call his mother. 

“Hello?” Her sweet voice chimed after two rings.

“Good morning, mama,” he said, zipping his bag and tossing it over his shoulder. 

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” Not a question, though there was some hurt behind her words. Rowan rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Just busy with practice and games.”

“Is that Aelin?” Fenrys called from across the room. He pulled a shirt on and began to walk over to Rowan. “Is she still sick?”

“Is who still sick?” His mom inquired. Again, he sighed and shot Fen a warning look. 

“Aelin has been feeling under the weather,  Mom,” he emphasized her name and Fenrys looked immediately apologetic. Great. 

“Well, what's the matter? I might have some good advice, you know. You better be taking care of that girl. Has she gotten you sick?” 

“Nausea, maybe a stomach bug, no I’m not sick, and no I’m not taking care of her. She won’t let me. Aelin is so independent that I can’t get her to depend on me for anything right now.” It was probably a bigger truth than he was ready to share with his mom, much less all his friends. He made his way out of the locker room and Fen shouted an apology after him. Rowan flippantly waved his hand as the door shut behind him.

“Well, let's start with some remedies. I have just the thing that will help. It’s a tea I drank through my entire pregnancy to fight the nausea and it works like a charm.” Rowan almost choked at the mention of a pregnancy. Did she somehow know already? She couldn’t find out from anyone but him. It would destroy her if she discovered the news on a tabloid site. Fuck. 

“That’d be great, I’ll send it to her.”

“Better yet, I’m due for a visit. How about I drive up and make it for her myself?” Shit. Fuck. Godsdamn the universe.

“Mom, right now isn’t really–”

“It’s never a good time,” she interjected. “You’ll be busy regardless. I don’t mind a little time on my own while you practice. It’ll give me plenty of time to get to know Aelin, too.”

“She lives in Varese,” he told her, trying to get her to back down. 

“I know she does. Tabloids have pictures of you hanging around there any chance you get. And anyway, Fenrys has loose lips. Tell me her name again?”

“If you’ve seen the news articles, you know her name already.” There were plenty of grainy pictures of them sipping drinks at The Neon Moon, plus pap shots of them everywhere else. Rowan wasn’t used to quite so much attention. Sure, there were the occasional paparazzi that snapped photos of him around town, but with Aelin at his side it seemed to be more than usual. 

“Aelin. Her name is Aelin Galathynius,  but you already know that.”

“Well, since you aren’t taking care of Aelin I’m going to drive up and do it myself. Sometimes us women just don’t know how to ask for help when it’s needed. Besides, the poor girl doesn’t have her own mother close by to lean on for support. Maternal comfort goes a long way.”

There was no getting out of this. Maybe it would be a good thing, he pondered. They could tell her in person and maybe she wouldn’t go ballistic if Aelin was there. Stressful as all hell, but maybe it could work if he could get Aelin to come stay for a day or two. 

“Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow, then?”

“I’ll be there in the morning,” she swore before hanging up. Now he just had to get Aelin to come down.

Rowan slumped down into his car and immediately called Aelin. His thumbs drummed on the steering wheel while it rang and rang, his anxiety building in his gut. A thousand things ran through his head: Was it too soon? Would it be weird? What if they didn’t get along?

“Hey you,” she said when the call connected, her voice like music to his ears. It soothed his anxiety, just talking to her. Just by being her.

“Hi.” It was impossible to stop the smile that crept over his face as he dropped his bag in the backseat and got in his car.  “I have a favor to ask and an apology to give.”

“I’m intrigued, do go on.” Rowan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Hervoice filtered through his car speakers, surrounding him wholly. 

“Fenrys accidentally told my mom you’ve been sick and now she’s determined that you need her special tea and maternal comfort.”

“Ah,” she said, clearing her throat. “So is the favor meeting your mom? And is the apology for Fenrys?”

“The favor is that you come stay with me for a few days to meet her and let her mother hen you to death because there was no way I was getting out of this scenario while talking to her. But if you refuse I can try to get her to back down.” When Aelin laughed, a weight lifted from his chest. “The apology is for roping you into this mess. And for Fen.”

Aelin laughed, “I accept both. I’d love to meet your mom. Plus, maybe we can tell her about the baby while she’s here.”

 Rowan was relieved she was so open to the whole ordeal. His heart squeezed in his chest that she wanted to meet his mom. Fuck, he was so gone for this girl. He was on a free fall and only she could catch him. He wasn’t looking forward to finding out what would happen if she didn’t.

“She’ll be here tomorrow. Is that okay?” He could hear papers shuffling in the background, the sound of a zipper and a small sigh from his girl.

“I’ll pack a suitcase and be there in a bit. I’ll bring my work stuff with me and set up in your office, if that’s okay.”

“What's mine is yours,” he swore. 

“Okay,” she said softly, and Rowan could hear the smile in her voice. He was grinning, too.

“Okay. See you soon.”

“See you soon, Ro.” Ro. Was she trying to get him to crash his car from a heart explosion? He disconnected the call as he pulled into his driveway and took a deep breath. This was a good thing, right?

~*~

“Ro?” Aelin called out, stepping through the front door. He’d left it unlocked for her in case he was busy when she arrived. 

“Kitchen!” He called back, so Aelin slipped off her shoes and padded through the house until she rounded the corner and saw him standing at the stove.

His sleeves were pushed up above his elbows and an apron was around his neck. A cutting board of vegetables sat on the counter while he stirred something in a pan. It smelled devine, and wasn’t making her stomach turn which was a huge win. Everything was setting it off lately.

“I know tacos are a safe food right now, so I thought we’d try fajitas to switch things up,” he said over his shoulder, turning briefly to grab the cutting board. The contents were dumped into the pan and she circled the counter, pausing beside him. Rowan stirred with his left hand and wrapped his right around her waist. Her stomach fluttered at the contact, but she didn’t pull away. 

“Thank you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Always.” Aelin smiled up at him before stepping away to get a glass of water. 

They made small talk while he cooked, everything from their days to little tidbits of what his mom was like. According to Rowan, she was the best mom in the world. He gushed about her cooking, about how he raised her alone after his father passed away when he was ten. She’s fiercely loyal to her people, and loves Rowan more than anything in the world. If the sun revolved around people, Iris would surely revolve around Rowan. He insisted it would be the same for Aelin and their baby. 

The thought warmed her. This baby would have the best community in their corner. Not having to worry about the lack of a village was a huge relief. Everyone was dying to be involved on both sides, and many of Rowan’s teammates contacted Aelin just to check in on her. Aedion and Lysandra were already vying for favorite aunt/uncle. No, this baby would never know what it was like to not feel wholly loved by their people.

After dinner, they cleaned up despite Rowan’s protests that she didn’t need to do anything. Aelin dismissed him with the wave of her hand and worked on the dishes while he put away leftovers. He was right; it was a refreshing change to eat something other than tacos. 

“I’m gonna shower,” she sighed, arms stretched above her head. Even though it was still pretty early, she was more than ready to don pajamas, curl up, and decompress from work and the drive down. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” was his reply, and she knew he meant it more than just right now. Biting her lip, she slipped out of the kitchen and made her way upstairs. 

The best shower in the house was Rowan’s. It had a rainwater shower head that felt so luxurious that Aelin swore she was going to get one for her house in Orynth. As soon as she stepped in she felt the day simply melt away. Hot water trickled down her skin while she carefully washed her body, then her hair. She really needed to get this showerhead. It was the height of luxury at the moment. 

After drying off and changing clothes, she went back downstairs and found Rowan on the couch. He had changed clothes and was now in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Something about it was really doing something for Aelin. His tattooed bicep was along the back of the couch and she wanted to trace the lines everywhere they turned. When he looked up at her and grinned, something fluttered in her stomach. Gods, she was so screwed.

“Good shower?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, sitting close enough that his fingers brushed her shoulder. Rowan toyed with the ends of her damp hair for a moment, and Aelin was stunned at how comfortable the silence was. Nothing was being said, or communicated in any way, but it was such a cozy silence. She’d never experienced anything quite like it before. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rowan said carefully, “but you look exhausted.”

Aelin took no offence, laughing as she rubbed her face. It was true. She wasn’t sleeping much, and when she did it was restless. Her hips were already beginning to ache and she wasn’t looking forward to it getting worse as her body grew and changed. Still, she was so tired. Most of the time she was asleep by nine-thirty. 

“Because I am,” she sighed. “There’s so much that needs to be done for the foundation before the office launch  here. I feel like I’m treading water because there’s always more to do. I love my job, and I can’t wait to see the effects it has on the community, but I think I forgot how much it is. All the events I need to organize, getting the office picture perfect. My team is amazing but some days I get asked so many questions that I never want to speak again.”

“What you’re doing is fantastic, and I will be at every event I can be. However, if you need to take a breather, take one. A day off is okay. You can do all of this, I don’t doubt it, but you are growing a human. It might slow you down a little, but you’ll get it taken care of.”

“I haven’t told my staff yet. I want to wait until my next scan to make sure everything is good before I tell anyone else. Except your mom, if you want to do that while she’s here. Family doesn’t count. Anyway, I think they’ll understand my work-from-home days a little more once the cat is out of the bag. I think Luca is on to me, though. Kid is way too perceptive and I’ve been spending way too much time with him working on the website.” 

“I’m sure they’re sympathetic now. Plus, you’re getting everything done you need to, right?”

“Of course. I think that’s part of why I’m so tired. I’ll stay until like eight, and then go home and eat, shower, and go to bed.” She sighed again, fingers running through her hair.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? My mom can be a lot,” he admitted. 

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I swear I’m usually a lot more fun than this,” she laughed, and he joined in with her. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb running over her skin. There were calluses on his hands that always felt strangely good. 

“Goodnight, then.” His hand dropped from her face and she was glad. Heat was creeping onto her cheeks and if she didn’t get out of there, she would look like a tomato soon. It was ridiculous that his touch set her aflame so easily. Aelin wasn’t sure she would ever get used to it. 

Upstairs, she wasn’t sure which room to enter. There was Rowan’s room, and then the guest room. They didn’t say anything about sleeping together tonight. Hell, Rowan didn’t broach the topic at all. It was tempting to crawl into his bed, but she turned into the guest room, which was unofficially her room, instead.

~*~

Aelin couldn’t sleep. It was just after ten, and she had maybe dozed off once for a few minutes. Otherwise she was watching the ceiling fan whirring above her head. The house was so quiet. Much better than her apartment, where upstairs neighbors were sometimes a little heavy footed. Not too long ago,she heard Rowan walk down the hall and close his door. She chewed on her lip, gave herself a little pep talk, then pushed out of bed and opened her door before she could talk herself out of it.

Two knocks on his door, followed by a soft, “Rowan?” 

“Come in, love,” she heard, muffled through the door. Once it was open she was treated to a shirtless Rowan sitting up in bed. Glasses were perched on his nose and he seemed to be reading a book. 

“Hey,” she said, lip tucking between her teeth while she rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Hi,” he chuckled, shutting the book and putting it on his nightstand. “What are you doing awake?”

“I can’t sleep. Plus, like, your mom is under the assumption that we’re together so we probably need to sleep in the same room anyway. Why not start now? And we’re not not together, so it would be weird if we weren’t sleeping in the same room. You know?”

“I think if we’re not not together, that means we’re together, Aelin.” A smile was tugging at his lips and she wanted to kiss it until she saw all of his teeth. She took it as her chance to walk over and get in bed with him, wiggling down in the blankets and pillows until she was fully enveloped in his scent. 

“Call it what you want,” she shrugged, the blanket covering the little grin on her face. 

“What are you calling it?” Rowan tilted his head slightly, glasses sliding down his nose. Gods, he was so… there were so many words for what he was right now. All of them were positive because this look and banter was really doing it for her. 

“You know I’m calling you my boyfriend.” Aelin’s eyes rolled in an attempt to seem nonchalant. 

“You can trust me, Aelin,” he said softly, hand reaching to cover hers. Their fingers slid together seamlessly, and more of that fluttery nonsense took over her stomach. She licked her lips, eyes focused on their hands.

“I know.” And she did. They barely knew each other, yet she knew he was becoming a safe person for her. There weren’t too many of those anymore. Her inner circle was small, yet she knew that because of Rowan, it was growing. 

“Yeah?” His finger bumped beneath her chin and she looked at him, fighting the tears that threatened to pour over.

“You’re going to make me cry, and then your mom is going to be here in the morning while I have a puffy, red face. I’ll look like a little tomato and I’ll be really mad about it.” Rowan snorted, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

“A beautiful tomato,” he said, lips pressing to the top of her head like he couldn’t help himself. Beneath the blankets, she was smiling. 

“Maybe after your mom leaves… maybe we can talk before I go back to Wendlyn?” She lowered the blankets beneath her chin and looked up at him. A single tear had managed to escape and he wiped it with his fingertips. 

“It’s a date,” he promised, nodding his head almost too-eagerly. Clearly he was waiting for this moment. Aelin hated that she had to be so guarded these days, but there was too much damage in her past to not be. Her heart had been crushed into oblivion before, and she couldn’t risk it. Now that a baby was involved? Gods, she had to be so, so careful. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” She finally asked, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. Rowan’s eyes widened at the inquiry, mouth opening and closing several times before he found letters to string into a sentence.

“I wasn’t sure you were ready for that,” he said slowly, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. Aelin smiled, a whisper of a laugh escaping her mouth.

“I’m ready to be kissed, Rowan.”

It seemed that he didn’t have to be told twice. Rowan leaned in and kissed her lips softly as if testing the waters. Aelin was the one to melt into him, fingers braiding into his hair to pull him closer. He groaned quietly, parting his lips and she was more than eager to sweep her tongue against his. 

Gods, yes. This. There had been moments where she wondered if the tension was only that. Just tension that fizzled out after the first entanglement. The feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. Butterflies fluttered up her ribcage and she gasped. It wasn’t a one time thing. If she played her cards right… she could have this forever. 

The thought clanged through her, sobering her enough that she tugged on his hair a little. Rowan groaned and it really didn’t help dampen her desire. The sound was delicious, something she wanted to eat like cake until he had nothing else to give her.

“Rowan,” she finally sighed, his lips closing over her pulse. Fuck, it felt so good. “We said slow.”

“This is slow,” he murmured, teeth grazing her skin and tongue doing the laziest swirl over her skin. Oh, gods.

“Slower,” she laughed, taking his face in her hands and pulling him away herself before her resolve withered into nothing. 

“Whatever you want,” he promised, licking his lips. Rowan’s cheeks were flushed and she had to lean in and kiss them both, planting one more on his lips. It would be a lie if she said she wasn’t melting at the sight of him, rosy cheeks and crinkles by his eyes from smiling. 

“I know it’s not easy–”

“I’ll do anything you want. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Not just for sex. For everything.” Everything. Aelin’s heart fluttered madly in her chest, shaking her ribcage. Wasn’t that the part she was most scared of? It excited the hell out of her at the same time. Everything with Rowan was scary, and yet… Aelin found herself looking forward to it. 

It was easy to curl up in his arms, head on his chest. One of his hands traced sleepy shapes over her back and shoulders, and when sleep came to claim her, she had no say in the matter. Feeling safer than she had in awhile, she counted the beats of his heart until she fell asleep. 

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[i-only-see-daylight]

Manon: Elide, your husband, Lorcan, is a loser, Aelin and I both agree.

Elide: You do?

Aelin: No, uh-uh, I never called him a loser!

Manon: Sorry, I’m the one who called him a loser. Manon: Aelin called him a clown.

[l14099l]

I will never understand the concept of disliking/hating one of the characters in your favorite ship. I could never ship two characters together if I didn't like them both equally. But that's just me.