#TOG universe

[acourtofquestions]

Celaena Sardothien would LIVE for the Folklore Eras dresses

[backtoaugust-ts]

I have realized that the perfect form of media must have a delicate balance between absolutely heart wrenching pure emotional devastation and the most ridiculous nonsense you have ever seen in your whole life

[acourtofquestions]

Update: Finished Wings & Embers, Feyre & Azriel ACOSF Chapters.

Starting Throne of Glass & TOG Universe Next!!! (Hopefully like NOW lol)

Thanks for the book recs! Can’t wait to keep fandoming with ya!!

Finished ACOTAR, ACOMAF, ACOWAR, ACOFAS, ACOFS (trying to find the bonus chapters) are there any other "deleted chapters", bonus deluxe specials, etc. or Novela?

& What do I read next? Crescent city series or Throne of glass series ? — is their crossover between any of them???

[rainingriversofyou]

Manon x Dorian - Throne Of Glass 🖤 Artist: artsby.aira

[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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[demigods-vampires-fae-are-bae]

Kidnapper: We have your kids.

Aelin: ...I don't have any kids?

Kidnapper: We have something. They call themselves the cadre.

Aelin: Oh, okay. Can you keep them for a bit? I haven't slept in, like, five months.

Kidnapper: Sure. Just pick them up by six. The blond one won't stop talking.

Fenrys, faintly in the background: I AM A FORCE OF NATURE! *crashing noises*

[shadowhandss60]

The thirteen playing truth or dare in KOA:

Dorian: Manon, truth or dare.

Manon: Truth

Dorian: I dare you to kiss me right now.

Manon: *moving immediately to kiss him*

Asterin: She didn’t even even say dare?

[ninainthetardis]

The fact that N/esta stans are genuinely convinced that she and Bryce would be good friends will forever be hilarious to me.

I mean, it's N/esta "No one would care if you died, Feyre" Archeron and Bryce "I've cut ties with my always present brother for years because he said a word too much while we were having an argument" Quinlan.

Manon? She'd probably shred N/esta to pieces the very moment she opened her mouth. I don't know how people can think she'd put up with her bullshit at all. Manon, of all people. It was already weird to see Amren doing that, Manon would be too much of a stretch in this sense.

Aelin? She'd humble her down so fast that N/esta would spend the rest of eternity locked up in her room at the House of Wind, crying.

And if it was Rowan instead of Rhysand, there would be a high chance N/esta would have fled the kingdom and changed identity by now.

Dorian "I'm well aware my little brother is an evil psycho and I know better than giving him excuses just because he's a kid" Havilliard would be disgusted by her mean attitude to say the least and call her out in 2 seconds.

Bonus: If Bryce heard how Azriel talks about Elain, she'd kick his ass so badly that he'd reconsider his desire to have a mate in the first place.

[emilystheories]

Aelin Galathynius created Prythian. She is the Mother.

This theory contains TOG, ACOTAR and (slight) CC SPOILERS!

Many, many thousands of years ago, Amren recalled that a huge "rip in the sky" appeared in her home world. Out of curiosity, Amren flew through this rip, and landed in Prythian.

This perfectly aligns with Aelin ripping a hole in the sky of the God's realm. This is the most concrete piece of evidence that Throne of Glass took place in the past (something I have already theorised about).

However, and most interestingly, it is suggested that Amren entered Prythian when it was being made - when the world itself was beginning to form.

If Aelin indeed created the "rip" in the sky that Amren went into - the timing suggests that Aelin's actions led to the creation of Prythian.

And, although subtle, we actually have proof of this.

Recall that Wyrd was described as the thing that "keeps the realms apart:"

But, when Aelin shut the gates between worlds at the end of Kingdom of Ash, we have this VERY important (and often overlooked) clue:

Aelin caused for all worlds to overlap.

I believe this is how Prythian was born.

The Cauldron.

According to the mural that Feyre observes, Prythian was created by a female with "glowing, slender hands," who tipped a fluid with "strange symbols" (wyrdmarks), from the Cauldron, onto the land.

I believe this was Aelin - perhaps not literally, but metaphorically.

But this begs the question; what exactly is the Cauldron?

For starters, we know that the Cauldron has 3 "legs". These legs provide most of its power (and this is an important clue!)

This is very similar to the 3 wyrdkeys in TOG; the very 3 wyrdkeys that Aelin embedded into her arm (and subsequently her blood) when she sealed the gates.

Aelin then gave over the 3 wyrdkeys, and all of her fire power to forge the new lock. It is this very power that is the essence of the Cauldron. 

As evidence of this, when we see the Cauldron's power in ACOWAR, it presents as Aelin's own power; "raw fire power," capable of burning an entire army to ash within seconds.

The Dread Trove.

The Cauldron also created the Dread Trove - and this is another very important clue.

The Crown.

The Crown can control and influence people - just like the wyrdkeys (and subsequent wyrdcollars and rings controlled people in TOG).

The Mask.

The Mask can control the dead - just like the wyrdkeys could create armies of dead people; a power Erawan desperately wanted.

The Harp.

The Harp can open portals to different locations, and potentially different worlds and realms. This is one of the key features of the wyrdkeys.

In fact, it was said the 3 wyrdkeys were needed to create a wyrdgate.

The Cauldron has 3 legs (that I believe are the 3 wyrdkeys Aelin yielded to seal the lock).

Thus, the Cauldron *IS* a wyrdgate.

Cauldron = Wyrdgate.

As further proof of this, to "nullify" the Cauldron, Amren had to:

give up her current body,

forget about those she loved,

and unleash her power of "light and flame."

Which is just like Mala Fire-Bringer; who also had to:

give up her current body,

forget about those she loved, (in fact, both her and Amren both warned that they will no longer "remember" their loved ones),

and unleash her power of "light and flame", in order to forge the lock, and shut the wyrdgate.

But, recall that when Mala's plan didn't work, Aelin (and Dorian) had to give all of their power to reforge a new lock, in order to seal and shut the wyrdgate once more.

This is just like Rhys in ACOWAR; in order to re-seal the Cauldron, he had to give over every inch of his power.

In fact, when Aelin and Dorian's power were used together, and in combination with the wyrdkeys, it was described as "creation and destruction," and the "beginning and the ending."

These are the exact same terms used to describe the Cauldron - and I'd argue the exact same *power* of the Cauldron (but more on that later).

And, as a side note - at one point, the Cauldron's power was even described as "fire and ice"... (ring any bells?)

The Lock.

Further, when Aelin and Dorian were sealing the wyrdgate shut, they had to make a "lock."

The lock they made was the Eye of Elena. This is perhaps the most important clue in this theory; that this very symbol and mechanism allowed for the creation of the Cauldron.

However, we learn in later TOG books that this symbol isn't just known as the Eye of Elena, but also as the "Eye of the Goddess." This is because it was first a sacred witch symbol, created by Rhiannon Crochan.

Crochan means Cauldron.

Additionally, the Eye of the Goddess was named as such, as it is said to represent the Three Faced Goddess (that the witches worshipped), and her three counterparts;

The Maiden

The Mother

The Crone.

It's for this reason that I believe the Cauldron was created from the Eye of Elena, or the Eye of the Goddess lock, as it too follows the principles of Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

We see clear evidence of this when Elain, Nesta and Briallyn were thrown into the Cauldron.

Elain was made into the Maiden.

The Maiden often symbolises innocence, beauty and blossoming.

In TOG, the Maiden was represented by the Blueblood witches, who were the "oracles, mystics, and zealots."

Elain was made into a Seer.

The Bluebloods also required more iron (as it was said that they were the most powerful), and it is rather interesting that Elain (presumably) wears an iron ring.

Nesta was made into the Mother.

The Mother often symbolises maturity, responsibility, and power.

In TOG, the Mother was represented by the Blackbeak witches, who were the warriors - known for their "obedience, discipline, and brutality."

Considering the multiple references to Nesta making a fine General in an army, as well as the parallels between Manon's thirteen, and Nesta's Valkyries - it makes perfect sense.

Briallyn was made into the Crone.

She was, quite literally, turned into an old woman by the Cauldron.

Creation and Destruction.

Knowing that that the Cauldron was made from the Eye of Elena/Eye of the Goddess, as well as the 3 wyrdkeys, as well as Aelin's own power that she donated to forge the lock, and seal the gate - this can explain Nesta's own power.

Nesta's power manifested as "cold" flame, one that seemingly burned without a trace.

We have already seen this before;

Aelin's moon-fire,

and Kaltain's shadow-fire.

The commonality between these two? Both women were in possession of the wyrdkeys.

The same wyrdkeys that the Cauldron now possess; the same power that Nesta stole.

And, all in all, this makes perfect sense. The Cauldron is a wyrdgate. Wyrd is the "language of the universe," it is the power of both creation and destruction, life and death.

Nesta's power symbolises one half - Death.

And, it's for this reason that I believe that Elain's powers (that are yet to be revealed), will symbolise the other half - Life. Creation. (And, I also have an inkling that she will be the one to rebuild the Dusk Court with this very power).

We also know that the Cauldron loved Elain. If the Cauldron was indeed created by Aelin - that she is it's Mother - then perhaps it's no coincidence that "Elain" is an anagram for "Aelin"....?

A portal too?

If the Cauldron is indeed a wyrdgate - then recall that Feyre threw the Book of Breathings into it.

Now, Jesiba Roga possesses that exact book.

Does this tell us that the Cauldron is in fact a wyrdgate to Lunathion, and the Crescent City world...?

Knowing all the connections between the Cauldron and the witches - and Jesiba being a witch herself, it makes sense...

[popnovelspn]

Friendly reminder:

Hunt looked a nurse dead in the eyes, with his back bleeding and a painful cringe on his face and said ‘I can still fuck though, right?’

And the nurse had to keep a straight face.

[anarchiii]

Worlds apart-13 —ACOTAR x TOG AU

Part Thirteen | warnings: angst, blood, violence, | Azriel x Celaena Sardothien

Summary; pain and sorrow one after the other, Azriel decides that maybe he isn’t meant for this world, but maybe for another…

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Azriel’s POV

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Amren snapped, clearly having enough of his tensed body and impatience, everything, he almost wanted to say, everything was wrong, it had started an hour ago when he woke up to a nightmare where he watched as Celaena choked to death on her own blood right infront of a door, a human man simply watching her die, he stood there and could no nothing. It had felt so real. So real in fact that his love seemed to watch him as she lay there, tears falling from her beautiful eyes.

“She’s in danger,” he finally said, whispering more like it, what if she was dying right now, dead even? “Who?” He could barely think straight, she could be suffering right now and he wasn’t doing anything, “Celaena, I can feel it, I need to help her.” She looked up at him. Her eyes a blazing silver, she nodded once, eyes landing back on the book she was reading, after a few more minutes she said, startling him, “I’ve got it,” he immediately got up. A small spark of hope filling his chest but he ignored it.

“Let’s do it,” he said, before she could say anything, “right now, this very moment,” this was the first time he had seen the Firedrake look concerned but she didn’t disagree, besides, if it didn’t work, Rhysand and the inner circle would never know, they didn’t have much time if what he suspected was true, his family would understand, they had to.

She nodded again, running out of the Day Court library and down a long winding staircase, he didn’t ask where she was going, just followed, by the time they were reaching the bottom, he was out of breath, the exhaustion of running and barely sleeping for weeks could come later, love first.

“Grab Truth-teller and make a semi-deep cut along your forearm, don’t ask questions just do,” Amren snapped, dropping to the cold stone floor and flipping through the book violently, he indeed didn’t ask questions, just did, he made the cut, his blood flowing quickly. The ruby liquid like a river. Amren grabbed his harm harshly before dipping her child-sized fingers into the liquid and drawing marks on the ground, the same marks Celaena had drawn, though there was a difference between then and now, he was not afraid, he would not be afraid.

-

He forgot how terrifying it was, standing infront of the sickly green portal that would lead him—hopefully—to his darling, if he could even call her that, perhaps he would come all this way and show himself fully to her just for her to send him back home, when she didn’t realise that she was his love, was this all for nothing? Was he so pathetic that the first person that had shown him a love that wasn’t platonic made him think and act like this? No, this couldn’t all be for nothing.

He shook his head, trying to disperse those thoughts, Amren was eyeing him but said nothing, she had been incredibly patient, it was almost like she knew something he didn’t, there was no other reason for her to act in such a manner, she started tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, but still stayed silent, everything was so odd— right. He had to go now. If it was anything like last time then the portal would not be here much longer.

Breathing in deeply and exhaling, he went through it, picturing nothing but her lovely face, that pure smile that made her look goddess-like, the strawberry blush that covered her cheeks when he said something about her, the way she put her hands on her hips to prove a point not realising that she was like a beautiful siren to his sailor, the beautiful maiden seducing the unprepared guard, she was his temptress without even trying. Lovely.

-

He landed face-first on a marble checkered floor, the first thing he noticed was the haughty laughter and clinking of glasses all around him, he got up, groaning as the pain retested in his nose, he ignored it, everyone around him was in dresses and suits, except him. People around him were eyeing him and some blushing as they took in his body but relatively ignored him, Azriel bestowed the same upon them.

He also noticed a mousy-brown haired man watching him from a wall, in the same moment, another plain looking man appeared and instead walked up to him and offered a glass of champagne, he refused a couple of times but the man didn’t stop insisting so he grabbed the glass but didn’t drink it, he keep surveying his surroundings but there was no sign of Celaena anywhere, but if his dream was right, then she was near a wooden door. And she looked like she was in a hallway. The servants quarters, kitchens, or even power-rooms were his guesses.

He didn’t think to hard on it as he started running down halls and rooms, his surroundings seemed to become more familiar from the dream so he kept going, he was nearly there to where I knew Celaena was when something hard hit his head, he slammed into a wall but got up instantly and drew Truth-teller—the blade mercifully staying with him this time—he turned and faced the wait from before. He drew a simple long dagger and threw it—aiming for his head. Thankfully, he missed, moving to the side before welding his blade and slicing along his neck, the man bled out instantly and fell to the floor, not even a worthy opponent.

He didn’t linger long, wiping the blood off of his blade quickly and breaking out into a run as he raced to find his love, small puddles of blood lay on the floor, the further he went the larger they became, what the Hell? Bodies started appearing, the inflicted wounds janky and uneven, their eyes still open. Gazing to the covered sky. No matter what they had done—he still sent a silent prayer for them to whatever Gods inhabited this world, the Mother was not here to save him, she never had. Anyway.

He slowed down as to not slip and stopped, listening for anything, anything that could help, he heard gurgling, choking even, he turned another corner and beheld the sight in front of him, there she was, her sweat-covered forehead leaning against the doorframe of that oak door. Blood spilling out from her wicked mouth. Her lovely skin covered in old—and new—blood, blood, there was so much of it.

He slammed to his knees and came before his lovely Fire, her eyes flicked to his but held no emotion, the golden ring in them gone dull, she was dying, the woman he had dreamed about every second he had been away from, dying—suffering, he didn’t know what to do. Azriel had planned everything he was going to do and say to her when he was here but now. . . Now he was here. He was completely lost.

Her expression grew pained as time went on and he got enough sense to act, he took off his shirt and ripped it up into strips, wiping away all the blood to see what he was working with, she bore many wounds but he knew those were not the main cause, it was invisible, poison. He looked to the oak door and, before he could think straight, put his whole body weight into it and started shoving into it, it didn’t take long for the door to snap off its hinges and bang open, he rushed to the sink and started collecting water. Washing Celaena’s wounds and making her drink the liquid. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t very familiar with poison, only using it a handful of times, and the Cauldron knew what poisons people used in this world, Azriel had no antidote. He was useless.

He started crying then, utterly useless, perhaps this was his punishment for all the horrible things he’d done in his lifetime, forced to watch his heart stop in front of him, he didn’t stop the tears, didn’t stop them as they fell onto her pretty face, she was crying as well, neither could tell which tears were their own. He rested his brow on hers, closing his eyes and wishing to anyone that would listen to save her.

He heard the panting of breath first, he turned his head slightly to see Dorian rushing their way, covered head to toe in blood, a dagger hanging from his grip, his face laced with anguish as he took in his friend—friends, Celaena made a small whimpering sound as she spotted him, the Prince got on his knees as grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb across the scarred-skin, “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I’m so damn sorry. Cel. I left you for five minutes and they attacked me, I fought them off the best I could—I see you did aswell,” a soft laugh accompanied by a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “it was my Father that sent the men, he tried to take us both out, I should’ve known this would happen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. . .” The Crown-prince was shaking with barely contained tears.

This was all his fault, it was his fault Celaena Sardothien and Dorian Havillard were suffering, being punished for being good, being fare, these humans were infinitely better than him and yet they were suffering, it was cruel, it was torture. It was injustice.

He distantly heard panicked yelling—for the Champion and her friend, not him,—the stomping of feet and clashing of swords against swords, yet no one moved, there was no point, not when time was running out, her heart would only beat so long. A person could only be so strong for so long.

He heard a shocked gasp as those loud footsteps stopped, he didn’t turn around this time, though, he did react when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, he just kept staring at those lovely eyes, the dulled blue that had once been brighter than the sky, she was the light he had been searching for-for centuries. And now that light was going out. The fire in her was getting smothered.

“Azriel!” He heard someone yell in his ear, he came to, realising it was Chaol, he turned his head, looking into the man’s eyes, he didn’t move, just met eyes with her again, watching as her breathing turned slower, how she closed her eyes and didn’t open them for longer periods of time, he heard the Captain swear—a colourful combination—he pushed him aside and ran to his friend, holding her face in his hands. Azriel just watched. He watched as Chaol yelled for the antidote, watched as Dorian was dragged away by struggling guards, their expressions apologetic.

He watched, just as he had done his whole life, the only thing he had ever been good at—apart from killing and torturing, but that was and never would be something he was proud of,—he watched as one of Chaol’s men shoved a strange liquid down Celaena’s throat. Blood kept flowing from out her mouth but she swallowed. Nothing happened, it was too late, it would never work, he saw the truth in her eyes, she knew this was the end.

He crawled over the blood to her, putting his scarred hands that were so beautiful to her on her face, the marks looked so strange on her un-marred skin, beauty and the beast, he kissed her lightly, his lips staining with the scarlet liquid, he looked deep into her eyes. Hazel orbs meeting those of cerulean. Water and earth. The perfect clash.

In that moment, he used all the power he had to beg to the Gods, to anything, that he would do anything to let her live, even if that meant the end of him, he used everything he had to ask for mercy, he felt a strange thing flow through him, like a curious cat rubbing against his legs. Though its voice was older than the obsidian blade that lay discarded mere-meters away, “and what would you give me in return?” It purred. “Anything” he whispered, anything.

“Your soul, even?” Curious, to see what he would do for love, “my soul, yes,” it made a humming noise, like it was contemplating its options, if it could even do that, “your love will live, but you will not be standing by her side while she does, that is your price, if you visit this world again I will see to it that your Fae girl will perish.” It said. It’s voice cold and cruel, and—Fae girl? Celaena was fae, well, that wasn’t much of a shock but. . . Why didn’t she tell him? It made so much sense now, that un-earthly grace she held, the beauty she possessed that no human should have. Fae. He would’ve laughed in any other circumstances. But not this one.

“Okay, yes, i agree, but give me at least ten minutes with her,” he said at last, Chaol and Dorian were giving eachother wary glances as they watched Azriel talk to himself, he didn’t care, though, not when he felt the thing nod its head and watched in wonder as Celaena’s face brightened ever so slightly, her breathe evening out, it had worked, it had damn worked!

He kissed her again and again, he knew his time was running out now but he had enough time to kiss her, everyone else excused themselves, their faces full of shock and amazement at Celaena Sardothien’s recovery, but he didn’t care. He looked at the assassin again. Fearful for their time to end.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers down her cheek, his beautiful, wicked thing, the woman with a heart of fire, his Fireheart, he had to leave her and yet he had never loved her more, the lady who walked with death by her side, the girl that smiled at the sun that rose and frowned at the sun that set, the female that kissed the scars on his hands and called them beautiful, she would make a great queen. And an even better lover.

He kissed her once more, the last time before grabbing a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and placing it in her hands gently, she didn’t move to pick it up or read it but that was fine, she didn’t have to, he didn’t cry this time, no, he smiled. Smiled as he looked deep into her eyes and said, no pain in his voice, “I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you, you were—and are, incredible. Never in my five hundred years of existence have I met someone like you. And I damn well hope the person that steals your heart realises that, you and I both knew this wouldn’t last, no matter how hard we wished it otherwise, there is a female in my world who is just as amazing, and I think you would love her, she’s not you—and never will be. But I think it would be easy for me to love her. As easy as it was to love you.” She nodded her head slowly, still dazed but seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“What is her name?” She got out, her eyes held no agony or jealousy, just pure, unfiltered love, he smiled, showing all his teeth, “her name is Gwyneth Berdara,” she smiled at that, copying his, she hit his shoulder in a playful way before saying, “very well, send me a solstice card,” he laughed, it wasn’t loud but it was full. Gods he adored this woman.

“You can count on it,” he said, she laughed softly at that, he kissed her head in goodbye before getting up, Azriel Shadowsinger was still smiling as he grabbed Truth-teller and made a return portal, and he was still smiling when he arrived back in the Day Court library, he was moving instantly, hugging Amren quickly before flying back home to Velaris.

-

He landed hard on the main balcony of the House of Wind but shook it off and made his way to the library, Clotho letting him in with a wink and a smirk, he ran through stacks and stacks of books and papers, the Priestesses curious but didn’t stop him, he kept running. And then he saw her—

He pulled to a stop right in front of her, her copper hair shining in the light of the candles, she didn’t reject him when he put his hands on her face, warm skin meeting that of cold, nor did she pull away when he put his lips against hers, no, Gwyn just kissed him back.

Yes, both Azriel and Celaena had a lot of healing to do but that would come with time, he knew the assassin was strong and would survive and not only that but flourish, but him on the other hand? He wanted this incredible Valkyrie by his side as he did, he wanted to wake up to her teal eyes sparkling and know she wasn’t going anywhere, to know she saw all of him and embraced it.

Celaena Sardothien and Gwyneth Berdara were similar in a lot of ways, but also so, so different, and he loved that, Azriel would never stop loving the haughty female that shone like the sun but he also had a lot more love to give, love that was reserved for the sassy red head and her only. His Oristian.

-

Celaena’s POV (bonus)

Everything hurt, and not just physically, not as Azriel said what he had said and handed her a piece of paper and simply left, she knew things would end badly but like this? Celaena had no idea what or who he had been whispering to before—because she’d slipped in and out consciousness many times—but all she did know was that whatever he had done, had worked. And she was so, so grateful, but. . . Now he was gone, she was alone again. Well, not really.

Dorian sat next to her, his eyes vacant as a few Royal healers patched him up, said Healers did the same to her, working quickly and quietly, no more than ghosts, she had stopped crying some time ago but her eyes still burned, her body still shook. She had nearly died. That wasn’t something someone got over instantly, Celaena had a feeling it would be a while of healing. Especially with the news.

It had gotten out that the King had attempted to assassinate his Champion and Son and the public had been outraged, revolting against him and seemingly snapping, it seemed all the citizens had gotten sick of the Rules he’d in-forced, and, rightfully so. Many people had-had enough of their family members being sent to Endovier or its sister camp, Caculla, the Assassin couldn’t help but agree with them.

But what had shocked her the most was that one of the King of Ardalan’s court members had gone rouge and killed the man, stabbing him right through the heart with his Rapier, she had been incredibly amused to hear that, apparently the old bastard was right, there were a lot of traitors working for him. Though, Dorian hadn’t found it amusing, simply nodding and staring at nothing, like he had been doing for two hours now.

She couldn’t find it in her cold heart to feel sorry for him. No, not as she remembered how much the man had made her and her family suffer for so many years, he deserved it, everyone in Erelia could breathe.

Sighing, she finally decided to open the folded paper the Shadowsinger had given her, it was relatively new but still had a few ink stains on it and lots of folded marks, as if he had opened and closed it many times before giving it to her. She breathed in—this was the only thing she could ever remember him by, faintly, she could smell the night-chilled mist and leather of his sent, and if she tried hard enough. She could almost imagine that lovely smile of his that she adored so well, her Azriel—closing her eyes for a second, she exhaled and began reading. . .

‘Celaena Sardothien-

I write you this to tell you all the things I could not voice out loud, if you are reading this then we did indeed not last, it pains me that we did not get to see how far our love went for one another but I think, even with the short amount of time we had together, that it was one of the happiest few weeks of my life, I have lived a long life but experiencing such a short amount with you has made me realise how unfulfilling it was without you in it, you made me feel alive.

I hope this letter finds you well and I hope that you are happier now or are getting there, you deserve all the joyous moments that you will have, I have never meant anything more than that—except for when I told you I loved you, perhaps I love another person when you’re reading this but you will always hold a special place in my heart, I hope the man that steals your fiery heart is worthy of it. And I hope he knows how damn lucky he is. A piece of my heart will forever belong to you, even when we both are nothing more than dust, I am yours and you are mine, just in a different world. Star-crossed lovers, remember?

—Azriel Shadowsinger’

The End. (Actually)

Note: this series is finished, I know it might not seem like much to some but this series kept me going when I was having a rough time and that is why I want to say a special thank you to these people;

-A big thank you to @cynthiesjmxazrielslover for supporting me through this all, I know we are only mutuals but you are a great friend to me and I couldn’t have done this without you, you’re my motivator and my inspiration, I love you girl, stay amazing. 🫶

-A big thank you to @azrielslittleslut for liking and believing In this series from the start, your stories are a huge inspiration and I aspire to one day write as beautifully as you do, Mwah. ❤️

-A big thank you to @shadowsingercassia for loving all of the chapters and making me want to keep going, you appeared halfway through the series but you might as well have been here since I started writing, your love for what I do has helped me more than you could’ve imagined, I know I am not a very big or popular writer but the one little like you give me amounts to hundreds others could give. I love you so, so much. Keep being the person you are. 🫶

-some thank you’s to @aelincaddel, @yashiw, and @snoopyspace for loving this series so much that you asked to be on the taglist, that little thing has meant so much to me. Thank you, lovelies. ❤️

Thank you once again everyone, even if you just liked one of the chapters from this series and no other, or rebloged one or even commented, thank you, that small gesture of appreciation made my day. The epilogue for this series is already written and I hope you all like it. I know some people wanted Celaena and Azriel to end up together but—sadly—that didn’t happen, but I hope the ending was still good. If anyone has any questions about something in the series. Please do ask.

I love you all so much and I hope to make more stories that are just as entertaining. ❤️❤️

-

[acourtofquestions]

The fact Rowan’s powers were able to help Chaol as much as they did says a lot

[acourtofladydeath]

What are 5 fics on your tbr right now?

Oooo this is such a good question! These are the fics that I'm itching to read as soon as I can give them the time they deserve:

Ultima Ex Nobis - Nessian AU by @fieldofdaisiies

I seriously can't believe I haven't read it already but I'm going to inhale this as soon as I can. I love an AU and this post-apocalyptic Prythian set up sounds so detailed and intriguing!

Heart of Velaris Series by @whisperingmidnights

I'm so excited to start this series. I love fics that expand on canon and build out the environment. Plus this author has hit me in the FEELS SO HARD ALREADY and I can't wait for more.

Blood in the Wine by @secret-third-thing

I have actually already read some of this fic and I'm SO READY to dive into the rest. I love the world building and Gianna is such a babe and I'm so excited for her journey. There's so much complexity in this story and gods above it deserves ALL the attention. I seriously can't wait to spend more time with the Vanserra's as well.

Come Hel or High Lord by @chunkypossum

I'm so excited for this one because it explores the ENTIRE MAASVERSE. You've got Azris, Rowaelin, Nessian, Feysand, and the house of wind all featured in one place. I'm so damn excited to get deeper into this fic.

I Miss You (When The Lights Go Out) by greenvelvet_couture on AO3

Nessriel with sexual AND emotional intimacy? That's all you need to say, I'm immediately there. I can't wait to read this one.

There are SO MANY OTHER FICS that I want and need to read, but if I have to only pick 5 these are the top 5 and I'm so excited for them. I think you should be too.

[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

Tower of God fans when the anime cuts content (It was a random comedic scene that has no bearing on the plot):

[rainingriversofyou]

Emerie, Nesryn & Ariadne - ACOTAR, TOG & CC

“The Strong” - Artist: bookishkoda

[surielstea]

Teeth Marks

Kinktober day 6: Biting + Tender

Pairing: Rowan Whitethorn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rowan canonically has a biting kink and I think about it once a week so, I thought I might share with the class 🫶

Warnings: Smut | Minors dni | 18+ | biting kink | oral (f receiving) | p in v | territorial fae bastard | brief fingering | praise | Rowan’s feral for her

Dawn had yet to break over the horizon but I've been awake for at least an hour. I had spent that time silently laying in bed, listening to the sound of Rowan's soft heartbeat, steady and slow beneath my ear, a rhythm I had grown fond of and had slowly become the most comforting sound I had ever heard.

Once my stomach got the best of me—and was grumbling so loud I honestly thought it might wake the silver-haired fae beside me, I slipped from the bed, tip-toeing as I got dressed and despite my mates heightened senses, he didn't stir as I left our bedroom.

I padded into the dimly lit kitchen and fixed myself a simple meal as quietly as I could, making a plate of leftovers from dinner, not bothering to heat them up due to the fact that the smell and clattering of utensils would most likely wake Rowan.

He wasn't a light sleeper by any means, the male slept like a damned log, and I was certain he could pass out anywhere, but, to his core, he was a worrier.

And when I wasn't beside him, he was as anxious as a mother hen. Which meant a rough sleep.

I hadn't known what prompted me to wake up earlier than usual, and I'd most likely be in eager need of a nap in a few hours, but once I was awake, there was no returning to sleep.

So I sighed, stuffing a cold potato into my mouth, quietly eating as I stretched my limbs out, sore from sleep and training yesterday.

A warm breeze twirled around me and I knew it wasn't the wind blowing in from the windows that kissed my face.

I wasn't surprised when a pair of large, muscled arms lazily wrapped around my torso, pulling me back into a bare chest.

"It's too early," Rowan murmured, his voice groggy as he spoke into my hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I lift a hand up, running it through his trimmed, silver locks.

"Then come back to bed," He grumbles and I smile, leaning into his warm and toned chest.

"You used to train from dawn to nightfall right outside my window, where'd that Rowan go?" I tease, raising a brow despite the fact that he couldn't see it, rolling another potato over with my fork.

"Mm, he died from a heart attack when a pretty girl dragged him into her rooms when he was supposed to be training," He explained and I smiled at the memory, still raking my hand through his hair.

"I miss your long hair," I changed the subject and he groaned, stuffing his nose into the crook of my neck.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm growing it out, just for you?" He huffs and I beam brightly. "I still can't believe you cut it without asking me," I sighed in disbelief as if that day was such a tragedy.

"My gods woman," He hoisted me up into his arms and I squealed. "And I still can't believe you left our bed without asking me," He retorted and I giggled.

"Those are two very different things," I argue while he carries me back to our bedroom, leaving my cold food on the counter, deserted.

He threw me down onto our bed and crawled in beside me. I gripped him by the tops of his shoulders, lugging him upward so he was laying atop me, and he would have been crushing me if his hips weren't positioned between my legs, his head stuffed in the junction of my shoulder and neck.

"I missed you," He sighs and I roll my eyes.

"For the ten minutes I wasn't in bed?" I scoffed and he growled softly, nipping at my collarbone. "Ow!" I yelp, shoving him away but he only looks at me with a feral grin and an amused look in his eyes.

"I love doing that," He hums and I deadpan at him.

"What? Inflicting pain onto your mate?" I suggest and he frowns.

"No, biting you," He explained and I gave him an incredulous look, as if they were not one and the same.

"You have a biting kink," I reiterate and he brushes me off.

"I do not." He huffs while stuffing his head back into my shoulder.

He danced his lips along my collarbone, kissing softly until he found the small expanse of skin that made me tense.

I felt him grin at his realization. His elongated canines brushed over the area just below my pulse point. He ran his nose up the area, entirely drunk on the scent and feel of me beneath him.

He kissed the spot, soft, gentle, something he did every time before marking me. "Rowan," I warn in a stern voice.

"Hm?" He inquires, all too innocently.

"If you leave a mark I'm going to kill you," I warn.

"Is that right, love?" He drawls against the column of my throat and my stomach twists in both arousal and anxiety.

"Yes. We have a meeting with the lords of Doranelle today and I'd prefer it if they didn't know how much you love to claim your territory," I reason but he remains at the area on my neck, taunting the flesh.

"But the looks on their faces," He drawls. "They'll know you're all mine," He grins at the idea and I roll my eyes.

"They already do, remember? When we had a wedding and all of Wendlyn was invited?" I reason but he simply shakes his head.

"Not just Wendlyn, everyone, I want everyone to know," He goes on and I release a long sigh, his grin broadening because he knows he's won.

"Okay, but only if you admit you have a biting kink," I bargain and he chuckles, but he doesn't say it rather than shows it.

His sharp canines brush over my neck, then slowly sink into my porcelain skin, the feeling sending shockwaves of both pain and pleasure throughout my entire body. I melted into his touch as he groaned softly the moment my blood hit his tongue. He bit harder, making sure a mark was left while he pressed his hips into mine, his hard cock straining against his pants but through my thin nightgown there was practically nothing between us.

Rowan's tongue glided over the wound, savoring the taste of my blood as the wound closed. His lips pressed against my neck in a silent apology, though there was no need for one. The bite sent shivers through my body, the sharp sensation of pain melting into the pleasure that followed in its wake. I threaded my fingers through his silver hair, holding him close, feeling the heat of his body radiated through my thin gown.

"You've made your point," I said softly, my voice still teasing, though breathless from the intensity of his bite. "Everyone will know I'm yours."

Rowan's chuckle was low, vibrating against my skin. He lifted his head, meeting my gaze with eyes that were both playful and full of desire. "I'm not quite done proving it," he murmured.

Before I could respond, Rowan shifted, his hands sliding down my body in a way that had my pulse quickening all over again. His fingers trailed over my hips, tugging my gown up higher, exposing more of my skin to the cool morning air. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing soft kisses to my collarbone, down my sternum, until he reached the delicate curve of my waist.

His mouth was warm, his breath hot against my skin as he continued to descend, leaving a trail of kisses that made me arch into his touch. His lips lingered at the edge of my inner thigh, just before he bit down—not hard, not yet—just enough to tease me, to make my breath hitch.

"Rowan," I breathed, my hand tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to let him know how desperate I was becoming.

He lifted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he met my gaze, pine-green eyes full of lust and devotion. "Tell me what you want, love."

My voice trembled, but the words came easily. "Touch me."

His grin widened, but he didn't rush. Instead, his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my thigh again, his teeth grazing lightly before he sank them in just enough to leave a mark, making me gasp. The combination of his bites and his soft kisses left my skin tingling with anticipation.

Rowan's hands moved to my thighs, parting them gently as he positioned himself between my legs. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along my skin, a deliberate contrast to the sharp bites he'd left behind. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. His lips descended again, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh, so close to where I ached for him, yet not quite enough.

I let out a soft whimper, and he hummed against my skin, clearly pleased with my reaction. He kissed me there once more, softer this time, before his tongue finally darted out, teasing me, tasting me. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure crashing over me, and I moaned, my back arching off the bed.

Rowan's grip tightened on my thighs as he held me steady, his tongue moving with agonizing precision. His lips, his teeth—everything about him was calculated to drive me wild, to bring me to the edge and hold me there. He alternated between soft kisses and firm, lingering licks, his teeth occasionally nipping the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment long after.

My hands fisted the sheets, my breath ragged as I tried to keep control, even if I wanted nothing more than that sweet release. Rowan's pace didn't relent. If anything, the pressure of his mouth increased, his bites becoming bolder, leaving me trembling beneath him.

The tension in my body built, winding tighter and tighter until I was nearly coming undone. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he withdrew, his lips brushing over my skin once more, this time moving up my body again.

His eyes were dark with desire as he hovered over me, his lips glistening from tasting me. He kissed me then, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. "You're mine," he murmured against my lips, the possessiveness in his voice making my pulse race again.

"And you're mine," I teased, though my voice was barely a whisper now.

Rowan grinned, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. "All yours," he rasped before capturing my lips again, the kiss full of a promise—one that said he wasn't done with me yet.

His kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my toes curl. The heat between my legs only intensified, my entire body buzzing with need as he pressed himself against me, his hard length unmistakable even through the fabric of his pants. I arched into him, desperate for the friction, desperate for him.

His hands moved with a confidence that only came from knowing me intimately, sliding down my body and pushing my gown further up until he pulled it over my head and discarded it onto the floor. I shivered as his fingers skimmed over the bare skin of my waist, his touch both tender and possessive. He shifted his weight, his hands making quick work of his pants, and I felt him—hot, hard, and ready—pressing against me.

Rowan paused for a moment, his eyes dark as they locked onto mine. "You sure baby?" he murmured, his voice low and thick with need, though there was a tenderness there, too. He always made sure, always wanted me to be in control, even in moments like these.

My response was immediate, my voice breathless as I nodded. "Yes, Rowan. Please."

That was all he needed.

His hand slid between my legs, his fingers finding my slick heat and teasing me with gentle strokes, preparing me for him. I gasped at the contact, my body arching into his touch, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Rowan grinned, clearly enjoying how desperate I was for him, but he didn't make me wait much longer. He lined himself up with my entrance, his gaze never leaving mine as he slowly pushed into me, stretching me in a way that was both delicious and overwhelming.

I felt him everywhere, I needed him everywhere. It was indescribable the pleasure I was enduring, how he knew exactly how to make me feel good, exactly how much I could take— then pushing me past that mark.

I never got used to the size of him, even after decades of being his mate— he had me satisfied halfway in. “Ro—” I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I arch off the bed.

“I know baby, almost there.” He leans down and presses a tender kiss to my lips, his arms on either side of my head. “You’re doing so well,” He praises, pulling out and then thrusting in once more, his hips finally meeting mine.

I gasped, my nails now dragging down his muscled back as he filled me completely, his body flush against mine. For a moment, neither of us moved, savoring the feeling of being so intimately connected. His forehead pressed against mine, and his breath came out in a ragged exhale.

"Gods," he groaned softly, his voice a low rumble against my skin. "You feel, so perfect."

My response was a guttural moan, the pleasure of having him inside me stealing my words. Slowly, he began to move, pulling back just enough before pushing back into me, his pace measured, and deliberate. He wanted to make this last, wanted to draw out every bit of pleasure he could give me.

The friction built steadily, a delicious tension coiling in my core as Rowan's hips moved against mine, slow but powerful. He kissed me again, his lips moving languidly over mine, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts, teasing and tasting me.

Every time he filled me, a wave of pleasure rippled through me, my body tightening around him as the tension built higher and higher. His name fell from my lips in a breathless whisper, and I felt him shudder against me, his control slipping as he gave in to the primal need to claim me.

Rowan's thrusts quickened, his hands gripping my hips to pull me closer, deeper. The sound of skin against skin, of his low, rumbling groans, filled the room, mingling with my own moans. He leaned down, his mouth returning to my neck, and before I could protest, his sharp teeth sank into my skin once more, right where my pulse thrummed wildly.

The bite sent a sharp jolt of pleasure and pain through my body, and my inner walls clenched around him as my climax rushed toward me. I cried out, my body arching off the bed as the intense waves of pleasure crashed over me, my release shuddering through every nerve.

Rowan groaned into my neck as my body tightened around him, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He thrust into me one final time, his body tensing as he spilled into me, his grip on my hips tightening as he rode out the last of his pleasure.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy panting of our breaths, the two of us tangled together in a haze of post-orgasm bliss. Rowan's weight settled over me, his head dropping to rest against my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

I sighed contentedly, my hand threading through his hair once more. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," I murmured with a lazy smile.

Rowan chuckled softly, his lips brushing over the bite mark on my neck in a tender kiss. "Because you love me," he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction. "And because I'm great at making all my mistakes up to you."

I rolled my eyes, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Making it up to me? You mean making me mad then charming you way out of it?"

Rowan grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nuzzled into my neck. "It's called balance, love." He says against my heated skin.

I roll my eyes, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him impossibly closer as I mutter, "You're ridiculous."

He stayed pressed against me for a few more moments, his breath still coming out in slow, deep pants. He placed a soft kiss on the bite mark he'd left on my neck, then slowly pulled out of me, the sensation making us both shiver. As much as I wanted to stay tangled up in each other, I knew the meeting was looming.

"I've ruined our schedule, haven't I?" Rowan's voice was low, though I could hear the lazy smile in his tone.

I gave a soft laugh, shifting beneath him. "A little. But I suppose I can forgive you this once."

Rowan chuckled, rolling off of me and onto his side. His arm draped over my waist as he reached up, brushing a lock of hair from my face, his thumb gently grazing my cheek. "You're too kind," he teased, his pine-green eyes warm with affection.

"Only because I'm still basking in the afterglow," I shot back with a smirk, earning another low laugh from him.

But Rowan wasn't one to linger too long in the haze of pleasure, especially when it came to taking care of me afterward. His touch was immediately gentle and purposeful, slipping out of bed to grab a cloth from the basin near the window. I watched him move with that easy grace he always had, even half-dressed and tousled from bed. He dipped the cloth in the water, wringing it out before returning to my side.

"Stay still, love," Rowan murmured as he knelt beside me on the bed. His hands were warm and gentle as he ran a damp cloth between my legs, cleaning me with the same tender care he always did after moments like this.

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the pillow, the coolness of the cloth soothing the lingering heat in my skin. "You're too good at this," I mused, my voice soft with a mixture of contentment and exhaustion.

He smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. "I've had plenty of practice."

"You say that like I'm high maintenance," I teased, though I couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped me as he finished cleaning me up.

He raised a brow, wiping his hands before setting the cloth aside. "You? Never," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though the way he looked at me—like I was the most precious thing in the world—softened the words. He pulled the blankets back over me, making sure I was comfortable before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my temple.

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to poke him in the chest. "I don't remember you complaining last night."

Rowan grinned, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I'm not complaining now, either."

With a satisfied smile, he moved to retrieve my clothes. He picked out the gown I had set aside for the meeting, holding it up with an appraising look. "This one will show off all your marks perfectly I think."

I laughed, sitting up in bed, feeling pleasantly sore. "Well, I wasn't planning on needing armor for the meeting, but after this morning's antics, maybe I should rethink that."

Rowan tossed the gown to me with a smirk. "I told you, love. I'm making sure everyone knows you're mine."

I caught the gown and shook my head in mock exasperation. "You are impossible."

"And yet, you married me," he said with a wink, starting to dress himself, pulling on his pants and shirt with practiced ease.

I stood, slipping into my undergarments before working my way into the gown. The fabric was soft against my skin, and Rowan moved to my side, his fingers deftly helping fasten the back without me needing to say a word.

As his hands worked, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You know, I could help you out of this dress far faster than you got into it," he murmured against my hair, his tone teasing but affectionate.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "I swear your mind stays in one place and one place only."

Once the gown was fastened, Rowan turned me around, his fingers brushing over the bite mark on my neck, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. "I really outdid myself with this one." He admires the mark like an art piece.

I snorted, smoothing down the front of my dress as I met his gaze in the mirror. "If you leave any more marks like this, the lords are going to think you're trying to start some sort of territorial war."

His expression turned mock-serious. "I mean, can you blame me? You're worth fighting for."

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the nth time, though the flush in my cheeks betrayed how much his words affected me. "Just behave yourself during the meeting."

Rowan's grin was utterly unrepentant as he reached for his sword, fastening it at his waist. "I always behave, love."

I raised a brow at him. "Uh-huh. And how many times have we been late to meetings because of your 'good behavior'?"

His gaze darkened with amusement. "If you keep talking like that, we might be late again today."

I gave him a playful shove toward the door. "Out. I need to make sure I don't look like I've been ravaged by my mate all morning."

He chuckled, stepping aside but not before leaning in to steal another kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. "You look perfect," he murmured as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on me with a warmth that made my heart flutter.

I gave him a small, exasperated shake of my head, though my heart skipped a beat at his words. "Flattery won't save you if we're late."

Rowan's grin only widened as he opened the door, slipping out of it— then peaking his head back in to say, "I'll take my chances." With a snarky grin.

Gods, help me, this male was hopeless.

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