#and Fen being a piss man in the back

[snuffysbox]

All the main players in the Bioshock RP @rapturessaviour and I have going

[leiawritesstories]

PART SIX: JUNE

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: swearing, violence, breaking and entering, fuzzy science, scheming, flirting and more flirting, innuendo, a villain, more violence, blood, minor character death

shout out to @house-of-galathynius for beta reading this hot mess and to @backtobl4ck for encouraging frederick

I don't know if I should say this, but...enjoy!! 😁😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Moon Moon!” Aelin clapped her hands twice as she strolled past Fenrys, who lounged against the Boss’s office door like it was the most natural place for him to be. “Thanks for showing up.” 

The blonde man shrugged, a half-smirk curling his lips. “Like I had a choice.” 

“You always do.” She threw him Celaena’s sweet little grin that usually made people either piss themselves, cry, or start babbling. “You can choose to show up, or you can choose to die.” 

“Not much of a choice, Boss,” he drawled. He flopped into the chair across from her desk. “So tell me, who’s the mark?” 

Aelin tapped on her computer for a few minutes before she slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. “Have a good long look, Moon Moon, because this is the only time you’ll see all of this info in one place.” As the Boss, she was many things, and stupid was decidedly not one of them. 

Fen picked up the paper, his dark eyes scanning each line of text and small, grainy photo. He cocked one blonde brow. “Rourke Farran, eh?” Not looking up from the paper, he huffed out a breath. “The man’s whole fuckin’ house is a booby trap, Boss.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“So what’s this bastard done to…god damn.” Before he could even ask the full question, it was answered. “He’s got a front for a front.” 

“I have never tolerated, nor will I ever tolerate, the treatment of human beings like commodities,” Aelin said softly, lethally. Celaena Sardothien’s notorious steel undercut her tone. “Farran thinks he can get away with it because I haven’t come for him. Yet.” 

Fenrys whistled lowly and set down the paper. “What’s your timeline, Boss?” 

Aelin liked this man more and more with each interaction. “I need Farran at the river warehouse by the 10th. You can use whatever means necessary, beat him up a little, get him nice and ready for his session with me, but don’t even fucking think about killing him.” 

“Don’t worry, Boss.” A lazy, hungry grin unfurled across Fen’s handsome face, the dim lamplight reflecting off the scars on his cheeks. “Softening up bad boys is my specialty.” 

“That’s why I hired you.” Aelin took back the paper and tossed it into the shredder next to her desk, which ate through the single sheet with a brief mechanical grinding of teeth. She burned the shreds at the end of each day, never one to take any chances with documents that could potentially be stitched back together. Fenrys stood up to leave, and she waited until he was almost out the door before speaking again. “One more thing, Moon Moon.” 

“Yeah?” He paused, alert, his stance striking an oddly familiar chord in her mind. 

“Farran isn’t dumb enough to put all of his guard dogs in one place.” 

He nodded slowly, working over that little tidbit of information. “Noted. I’ll tell you when he’s ready for you.” With a wink that was far too flirtatious for anyone’s good, Fen left her office. 

Aelin rolled her eyes as she returned to her computer. Her encoded list of targets was shrinking by the week; really, there was only one name left after Rourke Farran received his one-way ticket to her riverside warehouse, and it called to her every day. Some days, it took all of her willpower to stick to her typical Boss hours and Galathynius hours when she knew that if she spent just one more hour as Boss, she could solidify the plans that she’d been simmering for so fucking long. Just before she slit his throat, she’d once murmured to a criminal that she was cleansing the world of villains. In the months since then, that cleansing had nearly been completed. 

She slid her gaze down to the end of the page, following the trail of crimson lines that struck out each name up through Farran’s, and stopped, musing on the last name left. Five letters. One name—the villainous criminal was possibly more elusive than Celaena Sardothien herself. 

Maeve.

On the one hand, it made complete sense that Arobynn’s lover—ex-lover—would have taken over his business, diminished as it was when all of his cronies started fighting over their pieces of the trade after Arobynn died. On the other hand, Aelin had wondered just why the hell Maeve would have wanted to take over Arobynn’s drug- and gun-running business; surely the money couldn’t be the only reason. The more she dug into the grimy, seedy backchannels of truth, though, the more she came to understand why Maeve had done it. 

The woman had been madly in love with Arobynn Hamel, and now she was madly out for blood. 

~

In the prep room of the Gal Inc. labs, Aelin snapped on a fresh pair of sterile blue latex gloves, checked her badge where it was clipped to her lab coat, and nodded at her reflection. It had been seven weeks since Ren had come into the labs to have his SecondSkin changed—she and Nehemia had decided to extend the wearing period to seven weeks, as Ren’s use of SecondSkin was an experiment—and she was curious to see if anything was different. 

“About time,” Nehemia said dryly as Aelin walked into the small, sterile lab, the one that Nehemia typically reserved for experiments that needed to be kept quiet. “I was just about to assume you were in a meeting and start the removal process without you.” 

“Hello to you too, Dr. Ytger,” Aelin returned, just as dryly. “I just had to primp a little longer, you know how much effort it takes to look this good.” 

Nehemia snorted. “Galathynius, if you spent that much time primping, I’d never let you in my lab.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Aelin sat down on the second rolling stool and scooted over to Ren’s side. “Okay, Nemi. It’s your experiment.” 

Quickly but clearly, Nehemia ran through her usual list of removal instructions, then dismissed Ren to go take his shower. He emerged about half an hour later, wearing his robe, his hair damp and his face…

“Aelin, come here.” Nehemia motioned for Ren to sit down and scooted her stool up close so she could examine his ruddy face. “This doesn’t look like a typical hot-shower flush.” 

Aelin scanned the redness on Ren’s face and nodded in agreement. “Allsbrook, does it itch?” 

“Not on my face, no,” he answered. 

“Are you itchy anywhere else?” 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Chest, elbows, upper arms, torso, knees, feet, most of my back, some other areas. It’s not bad, it’s more annoying, like when you have a mosquito bite that you want to scratch.” 

“Would you please remove your robe so we can see if there’s anything visibly wrong with your skin?” Nehemia asked. 

“One sec.” Ren hopped off the chair, went into the shower room, and came back out a moment later. “Just wanted to put my boxers on.” He took off his robe, hung it on the hook in the wall, and sat back down.

“Too much information, Allsbrook,” Aelin grumbled. 

Nehemia ran her analytical gaze over Ren’s body, charting the red rash spread over the areas that he had said were itchy. It looked like an ordinary chafing rash, the skin irritated and slightly split in some places, and some of the redness faded, indicating that it was probably sensitive to the heat of the shower he had taken to remove the SecondSkin. 

“Are you allergic to latex or any of its components?” Nehemia inquired. 

“Not as far as I’m aware, no,” Ren said. 

Nehemia hummed. “Ae, I have thoughts. What do you think?” 

“Prolonged exposure?” Aelin asked. “It almost seems like what happens when you wear the same tightly fitting garment—like a leotard—for an extended period of time and it chafes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. It could also potentially be compounded by bacteria and dirt buildup under the material. It lays atop the skin, and as much as we want to claim that there’s no gap, we know there has to be a microscopic distance between the material and the wearer’s skin that could allow that to happen.” Nehemia gently touched two gloved fingers to the rash on Ren’s chest. “Does this hurt?” 

“No.” 

She pressed down. “Does it hurt when I do this?” 

He shook his head. “No. Itches, but it doesn’t hurt.” 

“That’s a good sign, at least.” Nehemia sighed. “Okay, Galathynius, we need to talk before we can decide how to move forward.” She beckoned Aelin towards the back of the room. “Should we go ahead with another application?” she asked, her voice lowered to a whisper. 

Aelin pressed her lips together. “Well, we can’t exactly have him disappear while we try and work out the rash.” 

“I don’t want it to spread or get any worse because it wasn’t treated, though,” Nehemia said. “I think we need to at least treat the rash.” 

“Yes, I agree, but how will that work with another application?” Aelin’s brows furrowed. “And how should we treat the rash if we’re not fully certain of what it is and how it works?” 

“We haven’t yet agreed to do another full application,” Nehemia reminded her, “and my instinct is saying to treat it like it’s a normal chafing rash—hydrocortisone cream, Benadryl, that kind of thing.” 

Aelin nodded. “Okay, that sounds fine. How do you think we should apply the SecondSkin?” 

“Hmm.” Nehemia tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “We could selectively apply it and avoid the rash areas. Theoretically, he’s not going to be stripping down in front of anyone for any reason, so he really only needs to have the right fingerprints and face, maybe footprints too. I vote we just apply the SecondSkin to his hands, face and neck, and feet.” 

“I think we should apply it from hands up to elbows, just to be safe, but that sounds like a solid plan. Do we have hydrocortisone cream here?” 

“Should be in the first aid bin.” Nehemia returned to Ren’s chair. “Okay, Allsbrook, here’s how we’re going to proceed. We’ll treat your rash and reapply the synthetic to your hands and lower arms, face and neck, and feet, which should hopefully give the rash time and breathing room to heal. You should apply this cream every day, as often as necessary, to the parts that are most itchy or inflamed.” She took the tube of hydrocortisone cream that Aelin handed her and applied it to Ren’s rash. 

“Is this something I can find at the pharmacy?” he asked. 

“Yes, it’s a common treatment,” Aelin replied. She walked over to the safe built into the far wall, keyed in the combination, opened the compartment, and retrieved a sleek steel canister from inside. She closed the compartment back up and brought the canister over to the prep table next to where Ren sat. 

Nehemia took off her used gloves and replaced them with a fresh pair. “Ready?” 

“Ready,” Ren confirmed. 

Working in tandem, Aelin and Nehemia carefully laid the almost-invisible film of SecondSkin over Ren’s hands, forearms, face, and feet, carefully molding it to his skin. The pieces had all been prepped beforehand, since it took a significant amount of time to press fingerprints and other distinctive blemishes and markings into the synthetic material, and the SecondSkin molded to Ren’s skin flawlessly, leaving almost no evidence that it was there. 

“Come back in two weeks,” Aelin instructed him as she disposed of her gloves. “We’ll want to see if your rash has improved, which will help us decide how to move forward.” 

“Got it.” Ren went back into the bathroom, got dressed, and came back out as Chaol Westfall, contact lenses placed and bland grin on his face. “See you in two weeks, Dr. Ytger, Galathynius.” He left the lab. 

“We should have seen this coming,” Nehemia groaned when Ren was gone, chucking her gloves into the trash bin. “Honestly, Ae, I feel like such an idiot.” 

“Nemi, you are a genius,” Aelin reassured her. “You’ve been so busy with development and research, and we didn’t even know this could happen until we saw it today.” 

“Yeah.” The chief engineer sighed. “I need to go chart all of this, and you probably have meetings or whatever shit you do in your big fancy office.” She smirked at Aelin.

Aelin rolled her eyes, nudging her friend in the shoulder. “I’d say something smartass, but I do have a meeting pretty soon. Let me know if anything comes up with Allsbrook, yeah?” 

“Of course.” Nehemia waved and turned down a side hallway towards her office. Aelin headed back to the prep room, put her lab coat in the laundry basket, and collected her things before heading to her office and the inevitable day of meetings. 

Two weeks later, Ren came back to the labs, his rash significantly improved. Nehemia removed and reapplied the SecondSkin in the same few areas and instructed him to keep treating the rash, as she didn’t want to move forward with full SecondSkin application until it had completely healed. 

“It’s a good sign that the rash is healing,” she told Aelin over the phone later that day. “In theory, that means the SecondSkin could cause a rash from chafing, irritation, or prolonged use, but the rash can be treated like normal.” 

“Definitely a good sign.” Aelin jotted down that note. “Hopefully, that means SecondSkin can be used for the wide audience we’ve been intending all along.”

“How much longer do you think this is going to be in development and testing?” Nehemia asked. “It’s been over two years, Ae. Shouldn’t this be about the time where we start to consider trial groups?” 

“I’d say yes, but we’ve only just learned about the rash, and we’re not yet sure if the current formula won’t cause that rash.” Aelin was partially thinking out loud. “My gut says to wait until the Ren trial isn’t getting a rash, and then move into trial groups.” Which will give me more time to get rid of Maeve before she can make a move for the SecondSkin tech like Arobynn did, she added silently. 

She was the only person who knew why Arobynn Hamel had died when he did—the former crime lord had taken one step too close to her highly guarded technology, and she’d had no choice but to retaliate. It was…not unexpected that Maeve would try to do the same. 

~

Fenrys Moonbeam might very well be insane. 

People had told him that frequently, ever since he was a reckless kid jumping off the playground structures at school, but he’d never had the thought himself until he was strolling into the Night Owl—a popular nightclub that was rumored to be the primary front of Maeve’s organization—in tight leather pants, a silver sequined jacket, and no shirt. Because rumor also had it that Maeve, the so-called Queen of the Night, had a…taste for handsome men, and he had it on good information that Rourke Farran was a frequent guest at the Night Owl. 

He sauntered up to the bouncer with a lazy, easy grin sprawled across his face. “Hey.” 

The bouncer, who could accurately be depicted as a concrete brick, stared flatly at him. “Invitation only, fancy boy.” 

“I’m with Cadre,” Fen returned, sliding his hand into his jacket to retrieve a beautiful ivory card with purple script embossed across its fine surface. He waved the card at the bouncer. “And they’re expecting me in ten minutes, so it would be great if you’d let me get my pretty ass through the door.” 

“Fuckin’ performers,” the bouncer muttered as he swung open the door. 

“Thank you,” Fen crooned, blowing a kiss at the stone-faced man. The door slammed behind him, and he tucked the invitation—expertly forged by Celaena’s man Nox—back into his jacket and slipped into the crowd of dancing bodies. He winked and smirked his way through the crowd, letting the thumping beat of the music ease his rhythm, until he reached the bar. 

Sure enough, Rourke Farran lounged on a barstool near the far end, one hand around a bottle of beer and the other around the waist of a blonde woman whose lipstick was littered all over his neck. 

Fenrys muffled the snort he wanted to let out and waved over the bartender. “I’ll take a Sex on the Beach,” he purred, giving the guy, who was probably in his early twenties, a wink. 

The bartender’s blush was faintly visible in the flashing strobe lights. “Want that extra strong?” His gaze flicked ever so quickly to Fen’s bare chest. 

“Give it to me as-is, and then we’ll see.” Fen lowered his eyes to half-mast and watched the bartender make his drink. The other man threw the drink together effortlessly, sliding it across the bartop to Fenrys with a little smile of his own. 

“I get off shift in an hour,” he said softly, dark blue eyes alight with hope and a little hesitancy. 

“Good to know.” Fen took a long sip of his cocktail and nodded appreciatively. “Delicious.” In his periphery, he noticed Farran push the blonde out of his lap and stand up, swaying a little, and turn towards the dancefloor. 

He brushed past Fen on his way over. “Get a fuckin’ room,” he slurred, his glassy-eyed gaze flicking once over Fen’s glittering jacket and tight pants. “Goddamn fancy boy.” 

“I’ll be back.” Fen drained the rest of his drink, tossed a twenty on the bar, and rose, following Farran into the sea of dancing bodies. He kept a discreet distance from the man, far enough away to not be noticed but close enough to watch the man’s moves. 

As he had suspected, Farran oozed sleaziness. What he was doing on the dancefloor barely passed for dancing; his gyrating hips and roaming hands were just barely short of outright having sex in public. He moved from girl to girl, changing partners as often as the music changed, leaving a good number of people giving him dirty looks for being too handsy. Fen snorted, knowing that the man probably deserved their scorn. Farran began to move towards the doors, and Fen slipped onto the dancefloor himself, moving fluidly through the crowd, keeping a constant eye on Farran’s steady, subtle escape route. 

Time to move, Moonbeam. 

Feeling a twinge of guilt for not staying to meet the cute bartender, Fenrys watched Farran leave the club and waited exactly a minute and a half before he headed out as well, putting enough unsteadiness in his step to indicate intoxication. Once he was out of the club, he glanced down the street in both directions and then went left. Even if he couldn’t track Farran, he knew where the bastard lived. 

After a quick pit stop in an alley to swap out his flashy jacket for a closely fitted black knit turtleneck, Fenrys headed into the tidy grid of streets that made up western Orynth, taking a meandering route towards the tidy, wealthy neighborhood where Rourke Farran lived. The neighborhood was decked out with security cameras, as Celaena had warned him, so he looped around through the expansive back yards, slinking easily through the landscaped trees and plants until he came to the fence that marked the edge of Farran’s property. There weren’t cameras along the back fence, primarily because of the rotating patrol of guard dogs and security guards, so Fen swiftly scaled the fence and hopped into a tree. 

He waited for the first round of patrols to pass before he carefully reached into the thigh pocket of his pants, withdrew a slim, vacuum-sealed package of meat, quietly cut open the plastic, and tossed the meat in a gentle arc directly onto the grass beside the paved walkway that wove around Farran’s house. A pair of guard dogs came barreling around the corner within sixty seconds, barking and growling and quickly discovering the meat. The second and third patrols weren’t far behind, and it was only a few minutes before all eight guard dogs were tearing apart the meat. 

“The fuck is happening?” A security guard rounded the corner, breathless from sprinting. He saw the dogs calming down and settling back into their patrols after having finished the meat. “God. Which idiot dropped snacks everywhere?” 

Another guard sprinted around the corner. “Everything okay?” 

“One of you jackasses dropped the dogs’ snacks,” the first guard snapped. 

The second one raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not the snack keeper tonight, dude.” 

“Whatever. Just get your ass back to rounds.” The guards nudged the dogs back onto the path and headed away. 

Mentally, Fenrys started counting minutes. He got to four, then five, then slowly and carefully slid down from the tree and darted across the lawn and onto the shadowed back porch. A moment later, he’d scaled the drainpipe leading up the side of the house and was perched on the balcony directly outside the master bedroom. 

Wherein Rourke Farran was fully naked in front of his mirror, with his—

“Fucking hell,” Fen groaned to himself, shaking his head. “Disgusting.” But also enough of a distraction for him to slip down onto the balcony, pull a slender silver tube from his sleeve, raise it to his lips, and blow a tiny needle dart straight into the back of Farran’s neck. 

Farran crumpled to the floor. 

Good work, Moonbeam, Fenrys complimented himself. Now you just have to get the asshole out of his booby-trap house and over to the river warehouse.

Easy. 

Right?

~

“He’s all yours, Boss,” Fenrys drawled as Aelin strolled past on the way out of the storage warehouse. 

She glanced at her smart watch. “It’s only the eleventh, Moon Moon. That was quick.” 

He shrugged, irreverent as always. “What can I say? I like to work fast.” 

“Hopefully not all the time.” She smirked wickedly. “Your bartender boyfriend might be disappointed.”

Fenrys flushed a delightful shade of pink. “How the fuck—”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, Moon Moon.” She winked wickedly at him. “How’s our special guest doing? Is he adjusted to his new home?” 

“It took him some time to get used to the room,” Fen returned, casually pulling a set of brass knuckles from a pocket of his cargo pants and spinning them over his fist. 

Aelin chuckled, soft and lethal. “Not surprising. Thanks, Fen.” She paused just in front of the side door, her gloved knuckles resting on the doorknob. “Oh, Moon Moon?” 

“Yeah?” He froze, his posture still as a…soldier’s. 

“I’ll need you for cleanup on the twenty-seventh.” 

He nodded. “Got it, Boss.” 

Aelin keyed in the door code and left the warehouse, satisfied that she had set the wheels of her plan in motion. While she trusted Con’s assessment of his brother, she wasn’t fully convinced that she could completely trust anyone on her payroll, and Fen’s easy charm masked a cold, heartless willingness to carry out whatever depraved task she demanded of him. Furthermore, that stance of his—the utter stillness of his posture when someone ordered him to stop—had been pricking at her memory for days, and she’d only just realized why. 

Fenrys stood like a soldier. More than that—he stood like one of her uncle’s men, one of the Terrasen Special Forces. 

And Aelin knew the day one of Gav’s men got into Celaena Sardothien’s business would be the day her double identity began to crumble. Even if she wanted to trust Fenrys, she had to confirm for herself that she could, and that meant giving him a fake kill date in case he needed to report back to someone in the military. 

If he did, if he turned out to be a spy, then the TSF would come sniffing around for Rourke Farran when it was already weeks too late. 

~

Aelin laced her fingers with Rowan’s as they strolled through the fancy restaurant’s glass front doors, something settling deep in her chest at the simple, casual intimacy of holding his hand. Her mind had been running in overdrive for the last two weeks, and even now, with ten days left in the month, she hadn’t been able to slow the constant dizzying whirl of her thoughts. 

Rowan was one of the only people who’d brought her a glimpse of peace recently, in the few scattered dates they’d been able to snatch between both of their busy schedules. He flicked her a tiny, secret smile, one that only she ever saw, before approaching the hostess stand with the same confidence that cloaked him when he was in his investigator clothes and badge. And dear god, the things that confidence did to her already throbbing pussy—she was half tempted to slip off her panties and sneak them to him under the table. 

But she was a mature woman, so she wouldn’t. 

“Whitethorn, party of two, seven-thirty reservation,” Rowan said to the hostess. 

The young woman—probably a college student, if Aelin’s guess was correct—tapped a few things into her tablet. “Your table is ready, Mr. Whitethorn. Please, this way.” She led Rowan and Aelin through the low-lit restaurant towards the far wall of windows. Through the glass was a breathtaking view of Orynth, the city cast in shades of bronze as the sun began to drift downwards. 

“Gorgeous,” Aelin murmured, captivated by the view. 

Rowan’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand. “Not half as much as you.” 

She blushed. “You’re quite the flirt, you—oh!” Unexpectedly, a man’s shoulder brushed hers as they wove through the restaurant floor. She looked up to find none other than Police Captain Chaol Westfall, wearing a nice suit and a mildly shocked expression. 

“M–Miss Galathynius,” he finally managed, clearing his throat. “And, ah, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I…I apologize for running into you.” 

“Westfall, what are you doing here?” Rowan inquired, polite on the surface but with narrowed, suspicious eyes. 

“Considering we aren’t at work, it’s none of your business, White-horn, but I was at dinner with a friend of mine,” Chaol shot back. There was definite animosity underlying his words. 

Rowan raised a brow. “You…have friends?” 

“Ah, lighten up, darling,” Aelin interjected before either man could resort to fists. “We don’t all live at our workplace, as we seem to have discovered. And Ro, darling, we’ve left that poor hostess floundering.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and tugged him towards their table. 

He shot Chaol one last suspicious look. Chaol returned the look, but broke the stare-off to nod respectfully at Aelin as she passed. “Ms. Galathynius.” 

When they reached their table, Rowan pulled out Aelin’s chair before seating himself across from her. Questions brewed in the shifting of his eyes. “Question, Ae—do you know Westfall? How?” 

“That was two questions,” she teased. “Yes, I’ve met Captain Westfall before. It’s all part of the business; I’ve met just about every notable figure in Orynth at some function or another. I probably met the police captain at some kind of gala.” 

Rowan nodded slowly, digesting the information. “That makes sense. All those faces probably run together after long enough, yeah?” 

“I try to keep them separate, but yeah.” She flashed him a sheepish grin. “There’s only so many names and faces you can memorize before they all start to appear the same.” 

“Why, Miss Galathynius,” Rowan drawled, his face alight with mischief, “are you implying that there are too many men in suits in this fine city?” 

She shrugged, meeting the gleam of his humor with her own dry wit. “I’m simply observing that if a few less of them were to bother me at every function I attend, my mind would be clearer.” 

“I thought you had a mind like a steel trap, love.” Raising a brow, he sipped his water. 

“It sometimes takes a moment to pull out a name from the file cabinet,” she returned. “And—oh look, here comes our server.” Their server, a sandy-blonde-haired man in his late twenties wearing the restaurant staff’s uniform of white shirt, black trousers, and maroon tie, wore a pleasant (if tired) smile as he pulled his notepad from his apron pocket. 

“Good evening,” he said cheerfully. “My name is James, and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to hear about our specials this evening?” 

Aelin glanced at Rowan, whose eyes had visibly narrowed as he scanned the server. The look was so blatantly male, she almost rolled her eyes, but her possessive buzzard relaxed when he saw the silver wedding band adorning the server’s left ring finger. “I actually think we’re ready to order, if that’s alright?” 

James the server just about melted to the floor in relief. “Are you serious?” he asked, lowering his voice to an incredulous whisper. “I—I haven’t had a single easy table tonight, and it’s the last two hours of a double and—I’m so sorry, that was completely unprofessional of me.” 

Aelin chuckled. “Don’t worry, James, was it? Customer service is a rough job.” 

“Tell me about it,” the man grumbled. 

Rowan shot Aelin a confused look. “Ae, love, I haven’t even looked at the menu.” 

“Do you trust me, love?” she asked. 

He pursed his lips, not quite used to letting someone else order his food. “All right.” 

“Perfect.” She blew him a subtle kiss. “Okay, James, is it alright if I give you our order a few steps away?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, keeping it still loud enough for Rowan to hear. “I want to surprise my boyfriend; I’ve been here more than once but he hasn’t ever been.” 

“Of course.” James smiled, a genuine one this time. “I brought my wife here once when we were dating—took half my paycheck, but it was worth it.” He stepped aside a few paces and Aelin followed, quietly giving her and Rowan’s order. The server’s pen flew over his page. 

“And say hi to Chef Emrys for me, would you?” she concluded. 

“You…you know the head chef?” 

“Bit of a long story, but yes. Tell him Aelin Galathynius says hi, please. Thanks!” She came back to the table and slipped into her seat, leaving the very nice but very shocked server to collect his wits after realizing just who he was talking to and go to place the order. 

“Poor guy looks like he just got hit by a truck,” Rowan observed, smothering a laugh.

Aelin smirked. “I may or may not have given him my full name.” 

“Ah, the name drop.” He nodded sagely. “Just what every famous CEO has to do to the poor server who got their table.” 

“You’ve got quite a mouth for a soldier, you know,” Aelin mused, her words slowing to a near- seductive pace. “A respectable man would never insinuate that his date uses her job title for perks.” 

“I never said I was respectable.” Lazily, his gaze roamed down her upper body, admiring the way her little black dress scooped beneath her collarbones, accentuating the gleam of the single small teardrop diamond pendant that nestled in the hollow of her throat. 

James came by with two glasses of white wine and an appetizer platter with two sharing plates, breaking the dangerous haze of the moment, and Aelin thanked the server as he headed off, no doubt to take care of his other tables. 

Rowan’s jaw slacked just a bit at the sight of the cured meat and prawns arranged on the plate. “Please tell me you didn’t order the most expensive things on the menu, Ae.” 

“Of course not.” She reached across the table and linked her hands with his, the gesture as natural as breathing. “I got us an appetizer to share, a first course, a meat course, and a dessert, and I’m not the kind of person who orders expensive items just to flash her money around.” 

He breathed out a deep, controlled exhale. “I know, love. It’s just…” His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “I’m not used to any of this—the fancy restaurants, the fancy food, the way people don’t bat an eye at spending thirty dollars for some toast.” 

She cracked a grin at that. “Let me introduce you to the fine, fine work of Chef Emrys, then. I actually used to work for him, way back when I was eighteen and my parents decided I needed to experience real-people jobs.” 

“Way back when,” he drawled, teasing her. 

“Hush, old man,” she teased right back, plating up a sampling of the appetizer plate and sliding it over to him. “I know I’m only twenty-seven, but my stint as a hostess feels like forever ago.” 

“Kind of like how basic training feels like forever ago for me.” Rowan agreed. He bit into one of the cured prawns and nearly moaned, his eyes closing in joy. “God, this is incredible.” 

She beamed. “Wait until you taste Chef Emrys’s filet mignon, Ro.” 

The conversation flowed freely between them after that, only interrupted by the arrival of new food and wine. A mushroom and herb risotto accompanied by an aged Riesling. The promised filet mignon, which almost made Rowan cry with joy, and a spectacular six-year Merlot. And finally, individual blackberry cobblers, the berries ripe and fresh and perfectly sweet-tart, paired with the restaurant’s signature Cabernet. 

“I don’t think I can move,” Rowan sighed as he set down his last empty wineglass. “But it was absolutely worth every bite.” 

“I think I’m going to dream of this cobbler,” Aelin added, regretfully nudging her empty dish towards the end of the table. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave, yes?” 

“Gonna need three to five business days,” he mumbled. 

Her laughter rippled across their low-lit table. “I love when you let that humor of yours loose.” 

A different kind of hunger flickered in his forest eyes. “And I love when I have you all to myself.” 

“Possessive much?” 

He just shrugged. “Call me whatever you want, love, but we both know you only come for me.” 

Flames flickered through her blood at the deep, sinful timbre of his voice. “That’s only because I haven’t introduced you to my drawer full of battery-powered boyfriends.” 

The banked embers simmering in his expression flared into a bonfire, and he sat upright and beckoned their server over. “Suddenly, I’m ready to go home.” 

James was at their table within two minutes. “How was everything for you tonight? Can I get you anything else?” 

“It was absolutely mind-blowing, as always,” Aelin said. “And no, I think we’ll just take the check.” Covertly, she slipped James her credit card, and he gave her a small nod as he went over to the server computer to process the payment. 

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you,” Rowan murmured, the velvet caress of his voice stroking down her spine. “Mind-blowing, Ae?” 

“Would you happen to know anything about that?” she asked, innocently. 

In response, he trailed a brazen stare down her figure. “Seems like you need a refresher.” He stood up far too smoothly for someone who had just finished his fourth glass of wine, gave her his hand for stability as she rose, and then rested that hand against the small of her back, his touch burning through her dress. 

Their server returned with a check folder in his hand and passed it over to Aelin, who glanced over the receipts, signed her name, and tucked her credit card and her copy of the receipt back into her small handbag. “Thanks, James.” 

“Ah, thank you, Ms. Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn. You might have been the best table I’ve had all day.” He tucked the folder into his apron pocket with a wry grin. “Have a good one!” 

“If it’s good, it won’t be just one,” Rowan whispered into Aelin’s ear. 

A shiver danced down her neck. “Is that a promise, Lieutenant?” 

He held the door open for her as they left the restaurant. “Ask me again when you’re begging for my cock, love.” 

~

Ren Allsbrook, alias Chaol Westfall, was expecting Whitethorn’s visit, but the man’s presence in his office still gave him an oddly unsettled feeling. 

He pasted a bland, blasé expression onto his face. “Yes, Whitethorn?” 

Rowan dropped into the chair opposite Ren’s, regarding him with a piercing look that almost seemed to pierce beneath the layer of SecondSkin cloaking his true identity. “How the hell do you know Aelin, Westfall?” 

Ren shrugged. “We met at some city leader event a while back. Some big thing the mayor hosted so the big names of Orynth could pretend to be civil to each other.” 

“Yeah? How long ago was that?” 

Fucking think, Allsbrook. Chaol Westfall had been the police captain for about three years, Ren had taken over as Chaol six months ago in January, and the mayor’s Leaders Gala was always held in…the fall…“Last October, I believe. You’ll have to give me a little grace on the estimate, since I was damn busy with actual work.” 

“Cute of you to think you can get away with sneering at me from your soapbox, Westfall,” Whitethorn said dryly. “Well, I checked the dates, and the mayor always holds his little party in October, so I’ll buy your story.” 

“My story, huh? When did you get so desperate for leads that you started accusing coworkers, Whitethorn?” 

“Shut up,” Rowan grunted. “I’m just making sure you haven’t been doing anything shady with my girlfriend, jackass.” 

“Ooooooh, we’re using official terms now?” Ren couldn’t resist the urge to press Whitethorn’s buttons. “I thought you were allergic to that kind of commitment.” 

“I wouldn’t get smart-mouthed with me, Westfailure,” Rowan grumbled. “I’ve seen you going to the Galathynius labs. What the hell are you doing there?” 

Ren muffled a rather creative string of curses. “Whitethorn, I know you’re terse, but what the hell was that subject change? Give me some goddamn context, for shit’s sake.” 

“Fine.” Rowan pulled up some security camera footage on his tablet. “This is a record of the feed from the Galathynius, Inc. lab complex’s security cameras, and before you open your mouth, I have clearance. Two and a half weeks ago, on June 4th, you went to the labs. You went again yesterday.” He tapped on the video, and the footage played, clearly showing Chaol walk into the labs and walk back out after a period of fast-forwarding through nothing. 

“Well.” Think, you fucking idiot! “Since we are currently quietly investigating a connection between Galathynius, Incorporated, and the, uh, Shadow Killer—”

“Shadow Assassin,” Rowan corrected. 

“Whatever. That person. You think there’s a connection, and I’m pursuing it. I happen to know a scientist who works in the Galathynius labs, and I set up a couple of meetings to speak with her.” Ren folded his arms across his chest. Buy the story, Whitethorn. 

Whitethorn frowned. “Why didn’t I hear about these meetings?” 

“Because I was being discreet, duh.” Ren poured a heavy dose of sarcasm into the last word.

Rowan grumbled something that sounded like a string of cussing. “I didn’t get sent to this investigation for the laugh track, Westfall.” He stood up and left the office, carelessly banging the door shut behind him. 

“Jackass,” Ren grumbled. He turned back to the endless slog of paperwork and files he had to get through, because the job of police captain came with a lifetime supply of that shit. Against all beliefs, he’d actually come to enjoy this job, this role, and he was just as invested in the case as Whitethorn was. 

He just happened to be on a different side. 

~

This is fucking insane, this is fucking insane, this is fucking insane. Those were the words running through Fenrys’s head as he and his twin strolled down the secret back stars of the Night Owl. He was barely able to focus on the opulence of the hallway—plush velvet lining the walls, fine mahogany banisters, and black wall torches and overhead lights giving the whole space a deep purple glow—when his mind was so focused on what lay at the end of the walk. 

“Relax,” Con muttered. “Don’t get us fucking killed before we’ve found out what she wants.”

“I’m trying,” Fen grumbled. He straightened the lapels of his jacket, the same sequined one he’d worn to the Night Owl three weeks ago. “But—”

“But nothing.” Con cut him off. “Remember why we’re here.” 

“Right.” Because Celaena had trusted the two of them with infiltrating Maeve’s lair. Because they were the key to taking down the last obstacle in Boss Sardothien’s path, whatever the hell it was. 

The masked guard in front of the twins stopped at a dark wooden door at the end of the hall. “Wait here,” he said, expressionless. He went into the room, closed the door behind him, and came out a few minutes later just as expressionless. “Maeve will see you now.” And he opened the door. 

Fenrys took a quick, deep breath and strolled into the dark-paneled office, Con at his side, both of their gazes immediately locking onto the woman who sat behind the imposing black marble desk at the far end of the room. Her face was pale, nearly opalescent in the darkness, her lips were stained scarlet, and her unnervingly violet gaze was fixed on the twins. 

“Thank you for being willing to meet on such short notice, boys,” Maeve said, her calm, cold voice slicing through the room like a blade. 

“Our honor,” Fen replied. Maeve gestured at the pair of leather chairs opposite her desk, and the twins sat down. 

She steepled her fingers under her chin. “I have a job for you.” 

Con shared a loaded look with Fen. “Both of us, or just one?” 

“Both of you. I need one of you for each side of the job.” 

Slowly, Fen nodded. “Alright. What can we do for you?” 

One corner of Maeve’s scarlet lips curled upwards. She retrieved a thin manila file from her desk and slid it across the desktop. “Fenrys, kill this man.” The order was as clearly and casually enunciated as if she was asking for a glass of water. “Connall, you will stay here to monitor Fenrys’s task.” 

Beside Fenrys, Con’s posture stiffened. “How?” 

“We have an advanced tech space that will provide all the equipment you need, as well as the chance to experiment with some of the devices we’re working on.” A gleam flickered briefly through the Queen of the Night’s unflinching stare. “And I require company.” 

“Alright.” Con dipped his head in acquiescence, flatly refusing to meet the sharp, concerned gaze Fen shot towards him. 

“Excellent.” Maeve smiled, and it sent a shiver down Fenrys’s spine. “You may go, Fenrys. I expect it won’t take you too long to get the job done.” 

“I pride myself on efficiency,” he smirked, masking the oily chill in his blood with a lazy, half-wild grin. He rose, nodded at Maeve, and strolled out of the room and then out of the club, his steps sure and unfaltering until he was around the corner and out of sight. 

Then, he ducked into a side alley and slumped against the wall, his veneer of easy confidence dropping to reveal his hidden terror. Fuck! He’d left his brother in that spider’s lair; gods only knew what could happen if either of them failed to do what Maeve commanded. Hands shaking, Fenrys reached into the hidden inner pockets of his jacket, his fingers closing around the comfortingly cold steel of his favorite twin flat knives and the envelope containing the thick piece of cardstock that had been in the file. The least he could do—for himself, for Connall, and for the man he had to kill—was carry out his task quickly, before the Queen of the Night could hurt his brother.

And so, heart heavy, Fenrys Moonbeam adjusted his jacket and the weapons contained within it and began his prowl towards Orynth Police headquarters.

~

Rowan arrived at Orynth PD unusually early on the morning of June 30. After a restless night—he’d tossed and turned far into the wee hours of the morning, snatched probably three solid hours of sleep, and had a muddled collection of dream snippets—he’d just decided to bite the bullet and drag his ass out of bed at five in the morning. Shortly before six, he keyed in his code at the door of the police station, let himself into the quiet, chilly building, and dragged himself to the locker room to dump his bag and splash some icy water on his face. With his vest strapped on and his badge around his arm, he grabbed his laptop bag and trudged up the stairs to the offices, ducking into his office to drop off his things and try to form a to-do list. 

Fuck, he needed caffeine. He needed it badly enough that he’d even drink the bitter shit from the common-room carafe. So he pushed his chair in, left his office, and went down to the bullpen, following the faint scent of the first batch of coffee. Operating on autopilot, he was halfway to the break room before he smelled it. 

Blood. 

That coppery tang was unmistakable. 

Fuck. 

Coffee forgotten, Rowan whirled around and strode back to the bullpen, following his nose like some kind of hound. A bloodhound, whispered the traitorous part of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Aelin’s witty laugh. In any other context, he might have laughed along. But not this time. Head down, he tracked the metallic stench of blood across the bullpen, its tang growing heavier with each successive step he took. The blood, wherever it was, was still fresh enough to be that strong, but old enough to have spread its scent through a significant part of the floor. Both of those things worried him. A lot. 

Hand straying to his holster, Rowan rounded the corner towards the cluster of desks where the detectives and Westfall worked whenever Westfall was in the bullpen. He inhaled, catching a lungful of blood-scent, so strong it nearly knocked him back. That part of the floor was still shadowed in the early-morning dimness, so he flicked on the nearest light for a better visual. 

The flashlight in his hand clattered to the floor. His other hand clenched around the cold, smooth handle of his gun. 

He’d found the source of the blood stench. 

He blinked. Shook his head. He snapped his jaw shut, swore at himself a few times, imagined Gav yelling at him for losing his mind like a goddamn fucking green idiot, and took one step forwards. 

He froze. 

Sprawled facedown in a pool of his own blood, the back of his skull concave as if bashed in with a heavy, blunt object, with a bullet hole ripped through his temple and knives pinning his now-limp hands to the desk, was Chaol Westfall. 

Rowan locked up the side of himself that immediately started screaming questions and approached Chaol’s…corpse…carefully, forcing the investigative side of himself to take the lead. He cautiously nudged Westfall with his baton, noting the lack of response. With that amount of blood loss, he’d be more shocked if the man was alive, but he still had to go through the steps. As much as he could, Rowan circled the body, clocking each new wound he found on the man’s body. It was…more brutal than he had initially noticed, slashes and cuts scattered over the body, as well as the knives stabbed through the hands and the obvious point-blank range of the bullet, marked by its entry and exit wounds. 

As he came to the other side, Rowan stopped once again, because there was a goddamned note tacked to Westfall’s forehead. No—nailed to his forehead. 

Fuck.

He pulled on the pair of latex gloves he kept tucked into his belt and gingerly reached for the note, lifting it up enough to read it. He didn’t remove it; he was too experienced to fuck with a crime scene like that. He did, however, lift up the paper, which was surprisingly thick and high-quality for a fucking assassin signoff. Three words were printed onto the note in dark ink. He tilted the paper slightly, and the black ink shimmered with a dark purple sheen, indicative both of its quality and probably of the signature colors of whoever the hell had written the message. 

Tread carefully, Lieutenant. 

There was no signature. There was, however, a symbol stamped beneath the short, threatening message. Rowan peered at the stamp, sharp gaze scanning it until the shape came into focus. It was an almost photographic image of an owl, the bird posed in eerie stillness, its inked eyes large and unblinking. And atop the owl’s head sat a crown, a perfect arc of five jeweled spikes. 

It was the mark of the Queen of the Night.

~~~

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[ar-lath-ma-cully]

hi hi hi for fenhawke, 'Raindrops on eyelashes'??

HEHEHEHEH THANK YOU RO I LOVE YOU THIS WAS SO FUN Here we go, some drunk Garrett Hawke and Fenris with a lil angsty fluff or something? I'd call it something. for @dadrunkwriting Rating: T WC: 822 (I didn't even read through it again so apologies for any mistakes!) ----

He looks at Fenris. 

They’ve just finished a fight–dispatched a thug or twenty, who’s keeping count? He is, and it’s 14 and a half, to be exact. Well, 15, if you count the half of the guy that ended up on the other side of the fence, but Garrett doesn’t, so fuck the other half–and they should be making a much faster getaway than this. But they’d been drinking, and Varric had been storytelling, and Garrett hadn’t wanted to go home quite yet, so they’d gone on a leisurely 3:47am stroll that had ended with them somehow breaking into Ander’s clinic, but he hadn’t been there to lean on and smother in fond, friendly kisses or pester relentlessly, and Fenris wouldn’t have liked that anyway, and Garrett wasn’t about to piss Fenris off when he– when they’d–

And there’s the rub. Fenris. Fenris, Fenris, Fenris. Garrett had tried to stay quiet, and away from him, not wanting to overwhelm Fenris when he’d made pretty damn clear his stance on the whole thing. Not that there was much of a thing to be made clear. So they’d fucked. Big deal. 

Except that it was, because Garrett was in love with him, and still is, but he is steadfastly pretending it’s not a thing, because he doesn’t. Want. Fenris. To. Feel. Pressured. He knows this isn’t easy. None of it is. Fuck, when has a Hawke’s life been easy? Shouldn’t even be in their vocabulary. Maybe that was the reason his entire family was dead. They’d broken some silly little rule the universe had made for them. Either that, or the universe just had something against Garrett and wanted him to suffer for the rest of his existence. That made sense, too. 

Which was why he’d been drinking. ‘Cause fuck the universe. And fuck being alone. And fuck the fact that his entire family is dead, that he had gotten his brother killed, his sister killed, his mother–

And fuck the fact that Fenris had wanted him. Maybe even still does. Not that Hawke would know. Because he had kissed Fenris, and Fenris had kissed him, and he’d told Fenris he’d loved him, and Fenris had melted into his arms and then– and then–

He’s still looking at Fenris. The elf meets his gaze, but quickly turns away. His expression gives nothing away save for the usual vexation in the furrow of his brow. 

“It’s a nice night for an evening,” Hawke finally says, snorting when Fenris rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no good, I know, but I had to say something.”

“Or you could say nothing,” Fenris answers. His tone is gruff. “You could go home, and I could go home, and we could sleep.”

“Or,” Hawke grins. “We could kill two birds with one stone and go home together.”

Fenris scowls. 

“It was worth a shot. Speaking of shots–how does the Hanged Man sound? Surely Varric is still awake to bother?”

“We were just there, Hawke.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no. How does shitting on Gamlen’s doorstep sound?”

“Hawke.”

“I’m not asking you to shit on his doorstep–obviously I’ll be the one doing the shitting. You don’t have to look, either, but I definitely think we should at least set it on fire. Or, actually, why don’t we break in and I smear it into his pillows? Make him a little sandwich? Oh, oh, a pie. Maker’s sweat-slick taint, that’s–that’s the idea, a pie, disguise it so he actually eats it, fuck, Fen, you’re so, so–”

He’s walking away. Garrett stumbles after him, hand reaching, and he grasps his elbow lightly, quickly letting go when he turns, and he expects the worst, truly, he expects anger, frustration, sorrow… he expects…

It’s raining. Garrett hadn’t realized. Now he does. Because there are raindrops gracing the tips of Fenris’ long, alluring lashes, and his tongue is tracing his lips, and his lips are pulled back over his teeth because he’s–he’s laughing. He’s laughing. Fenris is laughing.

Hawke is laughing. They’re laughing so hard they’re holding their stomachs. Fenris is laughing so hard he doesn’t push Garrett away when he leans into him. Fenris is smiling so fiercely that when they both look up, teary-eyed and dazed and they gaze into each other’s eyes and they’re grinning and their eyes are darting toward lips and they lean in and kiss that Fenris doesn’t even push him away. He doesn’t. They kiss, and it’s sweet, and it’s pure, and he can taste that cheap-ass whiskey on Fenris’ tongue but it’s good. It’s so, so good.

It’s raining, but they don’t even feel it. Not until Garrett is under sheets that really honestly need to be washed–Andraste’s mercy, he can’t stop sneezing–and Fenris is curled into him, his hair dripping onto Garrett’s chest but he doesn’t care. Why should he? None of it matters. 

None of it matters. 

[eldritcmor]

Also Bes, what do you think of the other SHC Team Members? Anyone of interest?

Bes: we tend to stick to our own really, but some of the other’s aren’t bad per say. For instance, Squad Eight’s captain. She’s pretty nice. Treats her team right from what I’ve heard. Considering how some of the other captains are rather extreme, it’s a nice change. Her squad is special acquisitions. Ya know the usual stuff. People, cursed artifacts, lost treasures, etc. For someone’s bordering on like eight feet tall, Pumpkin is damn silent.

Then there’s the captain of the ninth. Good ol’ Henry. He’s gotta a pretty damn good head on his shoulders, considering what he has to keep in line. Most of his squad is very laidback but man you piss off the wrong zombie and welp be ready to vanish and fast. Him and his squad are information brokers pretty much. Run a the thousand miles bit north of here. Man, you don’t think a bar would be such damn good cover, for a bunch of dead guys with skills but it works.

The seconds ain’t bad either. They mostly work recruitment. Now that we actually have a recruitment process that isn’t go kidnap the magic flash grenade of a person. Two weeks of straight dying to lightning sucks ass, let me tell ya. Butch ain’t bad. He’s kinda like price. Gruff but cares. He’s the one who recommended storm when shit went sideways with the 141. Something about being buried alive by what I’m pretty sure is a cult, but distractions aside. Butch and his, are good folk. Used to dealing with the human aspect that the rest of us don’t really do. Imagine Fen trying to recruit. Sure, he’s laid back and easy going as hell, but he’s so rarely in human form that sometimes the details ain’t right, ya know.

Any one of note huh? Well there’s one evil bitch. Squad three. The Madame and her dogs. Stay the fuck away from that one. Do not catch her attention ever. They work research. Behavior modification and such. She’s not above taking out squads in the name of research. People are playthings to her.

[rexismycopilot]

😭 bro I was in the shower and I have the best idea for 50 shades (this is kinda long, sorry 💗)

Obi-Wan pisses Anakin off. How? Idk but that’s not what this is about

Anakin, naturally, is like “ok so like, fuck you, you old bastard???” And goes on a shopping spree in retaliation

(“Don’t ever break up with a man who comes home with a check. Instead, use his card to let him know you’re still hurt.”)

because we all know Anakin has money insecurities, it’s actually not that big of a deal bc it didn’t even dent Obi-Wan’s bank account. Obi-Wan, instead, finds it hilarious. (My guy CACKLING)

Anakin gets beyond offended with Obi-Wan laughing at him and goes on another one, our boy Qui-Gon with us this time (I know, unlikely duo for this but here me out Rex)

Qui-Gon has, for god knows how long, been waiting for an ex of Obi-Wan to do this. He used to be afraid of it because, well, shopping spree/credit theft/etc - but with Anakin he is DOWN for this shit

He is practically carrying Anakin around the mall - the rich area - and into stores with soft fabrics that feel nice to Anakin to be fitted into suits (and maybe a dress.. who knows) as well as shoes and “ooo Ani they have SPARKLING GOLDEN DIPPED roses in here- IS THAT A FUCKING GOAT? Anakin, I beg you, get the goat. I would never need to mow my lawn again.”

(Ok maybe I just need Anakin and Qui-Gon being insane and unhinged together in my life)

This time around Obi-Wan is like “AYO??” (It’s still not HORRIBLE - Anakin still too scared - to the bank but bad enough the more useless and more impulsive purchases need to be sent back … “this does not include my goat Kenobi- no, it doesn’t! Fennec is my dearest daughter and sending her back would be a crime, isn’t that right honey baby fen? Yes it is-“)

Please. I beg you Rex. Give me this 🧎‍♀️ make it one of the stand alones if you must. I will do anything a poor person can do for this

(I also gonna need this to end with something like “Hey daddy?” “… yes?” “Don’t ever fucking do that again or ILL spank you AND break your account.” “Yes dear.”)

Okay, unhinged Anakin and Qui-Gon together would be quite the sight hahaha

And I could honestly see that if Obi-Wan and Anakin buy their new house and Anakin goes balls to the wall with gardening.

Qui-Gon's weakness: garden centers.

Every time Obi-Wan comes home, there's a new plant on the patio waiting to be potted or planted. Qui-Gon is spending an awful lot of time at their house.

Their backyard becomes all plants.

[bladehyme]

Different factions Same Contract (Boston and Fenrana)

Chapter 1

Five days. That’s how long Fenrana had been stuck with these criminals. Well, criminals may be a bit of a stretch, renegades may be more appropriate, or perhaps they would be considered “dirty”. That references the two cowboys, then there is the rogue automaton, and the citizen in her golden years who was out for blood. The paperwork was going to be unbelievably tiresome and tedious, but not nearly as the company the inspector found themselves with.

This whole circumstance wasn’t exactly a cake walk either. Children experiments? Corruption back at the academies? Escaped convicts? Cults extracting magic from items? This whole damn situation was hair tearing worthy. Fenrana rubbed their temples, less than a week and they had committed more crimes then they ever thought they would have. Including but not limited to: Arson, Assault, Breaking and Entering, Grand Theft Auto, Manslaughter, and the list goes on and on. That’s not including the crimes they have participated in as an accomplice.

“Lets review,” Fenrana said to themselves rubbing their temples as the police chief excused himself to bark orders to his subordinates. They would probably make a perimeter around the ruins of the school. Fenrana pulled out a recording device:

“Day Five. The time is 10:30. As stated in my last entry this reconnaissance mission to the capital of Vorrak’k has been nothing less than, pardon my French, a shit show. Each one of these days have been filled with challenges and struggles that were different from then the last. But today? Today was the biggest bust. We were able to find two children that were unmutated into adulthood. The rest of the victims are still missing. All the assailants we encountered seemed to be… you know what? No! I’m not being formal about this. This week has been bullshit. The children are still missing, we’ve been on a wild goose chase for the entire morning. We were nearly killed in a trap in a ruined school, which was completely my fault, but don’t tell anyone that. We engaged in combat with child soldiers that were forced into adulthood-”

Fenrana paused as one of those children soldiers were escorted by one of the police officers to one of the squad vehicles, to give them medical attention, food, gather personal information, or whatever the fuck people ground troops do. After those two were away from them, Fen continued:

“Literally! We don’t know if we are fighting adults or mutated children! That didn’t stop the ‘professionals’ from putting a shotgun round into one of their legs. Or the sweetheart grandmother assaulting one with a battle cane. Which I can’t even imagine is legal! After the confrontation had reached its climax, the man we’ve been chasing for a long time, we affectionately named, ‘Skully’, escaped by arcane means. Pissing everyone off. When the police arrived at the school shortly, rounding up the victims we found. With the exception of two, the pair that the cowboy Boston Jones, handled with personally. The one who’s liver he assaulted and the other's knee he destroyed via shotgun. The other cowboy, Nash, the android Baldric, and myself were the first to engage with the police. I explained the scenario to the police chief and he started delegating tasks to his subordinates. I don’t know what Jones is doing to those two he is interrogating, but hopefully Rimita, the civilian, will keep him cordial. But seeing his short temper I can’t imagine-” “Umm Inspector Fenrana?” Baldric interrupted Fenrana’s train of thought and the anxiety those thoughts brought. Fenrana turned to the fancily dressed automaton, he continued after gaining their attention, “I checked our vehicles security system, and Danielle is gone.” That was the last thing they wanted to hear. Danielle was their only suspect and the lead to this school in the first place. Their vanishing isn’t good. The cult leader could have snagged them from the car. Fen couldn’t imagine what Skully would do to her if he got ahold of her. “Was it a struggle? Playback to see when she exactly left.” Fenrana ordered, panic in their voice rising.

“Certainly,” Baldric nodded, his blue eyes dimmed, indicating his consciousness looking into the security cams within the car. After a few seconds, Ric’s head tilted with confusion, “Inspector, Danielle left the car on their own fruition.”

“Day Five. Time 11:18. This led to a chase. Nash going on foot, using his tracking skills?” Fenrana continued sometime later, “Ric hooked up to the city security cameras, got some leads but somehow Danielle slipped through our fingers. The security system glitched, and she vanished. We eventually all reconvened outside the building of our witness, only for me to assault a random civilian, Boston, interrogate a random realtor and then Nash started a street campaign for a local Bodega? This is a disaster. We did find clues for Danielle, her clothes at least. She dropped them off somewhere, and that’s where the trail went cold. It seemed so too perfect for Skully, the one criminal who we were hoping to capture, slipped through the police entering the premises. And also Danielle? It’s like-”

“Like the police are in cahoots with tha cult?” Boston said stepping into the alleyway Fenrana had made their perch to take these notes and panic. Boston was a middle aged human, who for all intents and purposes, looked like a gang member. He was covered in tattoos, scars, he smelt like a trashy bar, his vision on life and justice was so unbelievably jaded and crooked. He took out one of his homemade cigarettes, lit it, and took a drag. With how frequently he smoked, Fenrana was amazed he didn’t have any smoking based diseased. He caught fen looking and offered them a hit. Fenrana shook their head, to which Boston shrugged, “Suits yourself.”

“For the past 4 days and 1 morning you have offered me drinks, smoking, and hinted that killing is inevitable why?” Fenrana asked staring at Boston.

“Because this line of work is fucking awful,” Boston confessed, finishing the cigarette on the second drag. He tossed the butt to the ground, put it out with his shoe, saying, “I’m giving information as I see it, and most methods people use to cope with it.” “That’s not very comforting,” Fenrana sighed standing up, dusting their butt off, “Why do you think the police are in, as you said, cahoots with the cult? Wouldn’t that also mean the church is as well?”

“Watch it Inspector,” Boston said, blocking Fenrana’s exit to the street with his arm. The cowboy got very close to Fenranan’s face and snarled, “This is a cult based off this religion, nothing more.” “You can’t be that naïve,” Fenrana sighed hoping that Boston would move his arm, which he did not. So the Investigator continued, “If the police are involved the church has to be.”

“Probably,” Boston grumbled, his unblocking hand clenching. THe inspector prepared for this cowboy to assault them, but then Bostoned looked away from Fenrana before saying, “Congratulations Fen, you’ve discovered that justice is always right.”

“That’s awful,” Fen sighed in relief as Boston let his arm down, letting them know they were free to go. As Boston turned from them they jested recalled something, “What are the other methods?”

“For coping?” Boston asked turning his head to Fen, who nodded, Boston smirked taking a cigarette out while lighting it said, “The other best method is copious amounts of fucking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Raw, sloppy fucking,” Boston replied now looking to Fen, “You ever-”

“I went to college,” Fen said defensively, blushing hard. When Boston raised a skeptical eyebrow, the Inspector crossed their arms and stated, “I’ll have you know that in Uroran we are known for our academic skills, and the parties are the highest quality and full of pleasure.”

“Prove it.” Boston smirked

“Pardon?”

“Prove it,” Boston mocked getting to Fenranas eye level, “If you’re skilled in pleasure giving, I will follow every order you give for the rest of this investigation. With extra installments depending on what is ordered of me.”

“What makes you think I swing that way?” Fen inquired, glaring at the cowboy. This is neither the place nor time for such activities.

“You’ve been peeking at Nash for a while now,” Boston explained, pointing to the street where Nash was most likely standing. Seeing Fenrana blushing face, knowing he was correct, the cowboy continued, “I’ve dabbled in that green candy, it’s very nice.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“Ummm what?” Fen said, their ears and cheeks turning bright red. When they saw Boston was serious, they gulped and asked timidly, “Here?”

“Do you think you can explain to Rimita that you need the room to yourself?” Boston inquired, taking off his overcoat. That was a fair point. Rimita was a stubborn old lady and loved gossip, the less she knew the better. But an alleyway? Fenrana scrunched their nose in disgust at the circumstances. But having Boston, the makeshift leader, following their orders would be very beneficial. Seeing the contemplation on Fenrana’s face Boston shrugged, “If you can’t back up your claims I understand-” “Drop your trousers,” Fen ordered, their expression filled with determination. As the cowboy began to do as he was told, Fen grabbed a mostly clean looking flattened cardboard box to kneel on. As they adjusted themselves they explained, “I’m a lot of things, Cowboy, a student, an inspector to be, but first and foremost I’m a person of my word.”

“I look forward to seeing these skills,” Boston smiling, opening up the button, at the top of his pants, but not the zipper. He gestured to it, “Care to assist me?”

“Really?” Fenrana sighed, not enjoying the play hard to get routine, but now curious, unzipped Boston’s zipper. Surprising neither of them, Boston doesn’t seem to be wearing underwear, what was surprising however was Boston popping out of his pants, nearly poking Fen in the eye. They backed up instinctually, before clearing their throat and going back to Boston’s outstretched friend. As Fenrana examined it, they mocked, “I figured it would be bigger.”

“Bold words,” Boston smirked, “I can’t wait to shove them down your throat.”

“You will do no such thing,” Fen ordered making eye contact with Boston. The inspector spat into both their hands and began to get Boston wet. Fen soon realized they may be in trouble after 3 movements, their hand was dry already. To speed up the process Fenrana spat on the cowboy. They glared at Boston and said, “Not a word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Boston smirked, taking out a cigarette. He was getting harder and warmer in the inspector's hand. They were good, but at this rate, someone would check on them, “Why not pick up the pace a bit?”

“You can’t rush art,” Fenrana growled through clenched teeth. Boston was right though, either Fen wasn’t as skilled as they thought, or Boston had that much stamina. After a few more movements of the bards hands they sighed and said before taking Bostons nob, “Fuck it we are going to have to.”

“That didn’t take to-” Boston began, but then Fen took much more than Boston was expecting. The cowboy cleared his throat and smiled, scratching the inspector's scalp, “Damn Fen, that’s not half bad.”

The bard didn’t respond but continued to enjoy the holy rod of this paladin. Boston didn’t even have to persuade, after the compliment, Fen’s face was red and their throat was eager. Hell, the Inspector was inspecting every inch of the paladin, you’d think they wanted Boston to crit down their throat. “Cool it inspector,” Boston said, grabbing the back of Fens head, snapping their neck back, make running down Fens cheeks as they probably forgot to breathe a couple of times. Boston got down to their level and liked some of the drool on their face and smiled, “If you kept that up I wouldn’t have lasted nearly long enough.” “Nearly long enough?” Fen asked, in a bit of a daze from the change in circumstances and stimulations. Their breathing sporadic, and shaky, if they had been drooling the only one to know would have been Boston; and he seemed preoccupied.

“You’ve skill with your tongue has made me want to see what your insides feel like,” Boston explained, helping them up. His hand never left the back of Fenrana’s hair. Boston removed their pants by the belt. Looking down at them as he smirked, “I knew you were hiding a cute ass.”

“You-” Fen began to stammer before feeling something pierce into them. The inspector let out a gasp, but couldn’t move their head, as Boston locks of Fenranas hair in his firm grasp. Boston didn’t move his hips for a moment, as if he was trying to give Fenrana a chance to regain composure. They finally whispered, “You think my buttocks is cute?”

“Hell yeah it’s cute,” Boston growled into their ear. The cowboy began to use his action to cause extreme pleasure to the bard. He pulled Fen’s head towards his ear, as he got in deeper than before, “And it’s fucking tight.”

“Boston,” Fen gasped, blushing from the compliment and the divine smiting happening to their back door. The paladin wasn’t holding back, and the bard even felt themselves bouncing back to get more of him. After a bit, Fen finally being able to think straight, as straight as the circumstance allowed anyway, “B-boston you shouldn’t say things like that-” “Oh really?” Boston paused his movement, inspecting Fenrana’s mannerisms a devilish smile appeared on his face. He turned Fen’s face to face him sideways, “It tracks that you love being praised.”

“No it-” Fenrana began to deny before Boston began his movements again.

“Confess your sins you tight ass,” Boston ordered, in an authoritative tone Fenrana had never heard before, “And maybe I’ll cum.”

“I-” Fen began, as Boston reached around and began to make them weak in the knees. If Fenrana wasn’t bracing themselves against the wall, they had no choice at this point. The double stimulation was going to break the inspectors mind. They shouted through near tears of pleasure, “I love being praised, praise me Boston and let me cum please! It feels so fucking good!”

“That’s a good little slut,” Boston cooed, increasing his movements in his hips and his hand between Fen’s hips. They moaned so much that Boston was positively sure that the rest of the squad could hear. The paladin could feel himself at the brink, so he went harder, his free hand wrapping around Fen’s neck, pressing his entire weight into Fen. He moaned, “Cum for me Inspector, and I’ll make you my good little pastry.”

“F-fu-fuck,” Fenrana moaned, releasing everything they had. It was a matter of seconds that Boston did the same. Boston, as soon as he was done, pulled himself out of Fen, took out a cigarette and then offered one to Fen again. Fen smiled, declining saying, “Y-you know those will eventually kill you right?”

“Trust me pastry,” Boston said, smacking their ass, “If I die from cancer, the gods are playing a cruel joke on me.”

“Don’t- don’t call me pastry,” Fen blushed, attempting to stand straight up. After struggling they commented, “Fucking hell I won’t be able to sit for a week.” “Your welcome boss,” Boston teased, lighting the cancer stick. As he pulled up his pants he said walking to the hallway, “I gotta pick some things up from the Bodega, take your time.” “Yeah I don’t think I’m moving anywhere,” Fenrana confessed, sliding onto all fours, their legs twitching their ass still up in the air. Fen reached for their recording device. After a few failed attempts they finally got a hold of it, they began to log, “Day 5. Time… I can’t be bothered, not noon I hope. After some tactical strategy, I now have the Cowboy Boston Jones, compliant, which will be very advantageous for this ongoing investigation. But due to the negotiations, to keep this new status quo, more negotiating must be had. So many more negotiations, like holy shit, daily if I can persuade him.” 

Thanks for coming by and reading! If you'd like to watch the source material: Check them out live on twitch.tv/adventures_and_initiative on Wednesdays at 21:30 Pacific East Cost. or check out their Youtube Playlist: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqrIedq0bXtHdna_n1ys7NDHKE1VXe-UJ

[axoxtxhxh]

First Date with the Vets - Miche

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Erwin’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Miche x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 8,000

Summary: You sign up for a cooking class with your friend only to have her ditch you, but things look up when a handsome stranger volunteers to be your partner.

This was fair. This was totally fair and you deserved every second of this embarrassment for what you did to your best friend, Fen. No matter though. You stood there, thankfully in the back, of your first couples cooking class, but you were missing the couple part. You let out a huff of air and leaned over the counter. You definitely deserved this.

“Alright class!” The instructor walked in. An older blonde woman, swung her arms excitedly while she walked to the center of the room. “Everyone ready to cook?”

Everyone in the room chanted ‘yeah!’ in unison and you looked around, wondering if you’d walked into a cult meeting. How did they all know to say that? More importantly, why didn’t you? Even more importantly, Fen wouldn’t have signed you up for a cult, would she? You at least knew you didn’t deserve that.

You looked around at the other couples in the class and sighed. What a terrible reminder that you were single. It’s fine though, it’s fine. This would be quick, possibly fun, and then you could go home and eat ice cream while you catch up on your favorite show. It wouldn’t be so bad.  You’ve had to sit through a lot worse. This was one cooking class.

“Today, we’re making…” The instructor paused as if she was waiting for a drumroll to start. And honestly, you were surprised the enthusiastic couples didn’t make one for her. “Vietnamese Spring Rolls!”

She opened up the little laminated pamphlet she had in front of her so everyone could see a picture. Everyone clapped while they ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at the picture. You brought your hand to your head, second-hand embarrassment flooding your system. You needed to stop. This could be fun, but your bad attitude wasn’t going to help. You tried to focus on enjoying yourself and stood up straight, focusing again on the instructor.

“We’re going to get to eat things like—" she crouched down as if she was hunting and you tried so hard to hold a neutral face and remain interested “—shrimp, bell peppers, and even rice vermicelli!”

You started clapping, anticipating the excited students moves and wanting to join in. Except this time, for some reason, no one clapped and everyone looked at you. You wanted to die. You shrunk back into yourself and tried not to look around the room, hoping that maybe people would forget you existed. There was a man in the corner that caught your attention. He gave you a thumbs up and smiled, but you quickly looked away, needing to be invisible. Yep, this is what you deserved.

The instructor continued reading from her pamphlet, telling the whole class about the amazing spring rolls and things to remember when we’re cooking. You tried your best to concentrate, but you could tell you were starting to lose focus and daydream.

She talked about the red bell pepper and the difference between a male pepper and female pepper and you started worrying that everything in this class was going to relate to being a couple. Even the freaking pepper had a partner. You shook your head, looking back at the instructor and watched her take a bite of one of the peppers, squealing at the delicious flavor.

The problem wasn’t because you couldn’t find your perfect partner, you just didn’t want to settle. So many people settled these days, you didn’t want to be one of them. You were happy the way things were with you. Besides, if you were in a relationship, he could be one of those guys that liked doing things like this and then you’d have to join cult cooking classes regularly.

You broke from your daydream, shaking your head and focusing back on the instructor. Yeah, you just weren’t settling. You looked around the room at the other couples again, everyone’s arm around each other, squeezing each other’s shoulders in fondness. The guy in the corner who gave you the thumbs up caught your eye again. He was crossing his arms and looking at you and smiling. Not like a friendly smile, but a smile where he caught you doing something that you didn’t want anyone to see and it creeped you out and worried you. You looked back to the instructor, a little more anxious about his eyes on you.

“Alright couples! Now that you know what to do, let’s get started!” The instructor jogged up to her little kitchen in the front and started setting her things up, turning on music and expecting everyone to follow.

“Hi.” A deep, raspy voice spoke from behind you and you jumped, turning around. It was thumbs up guy.

“H—hi.” He was taller than he looked from across the room. Much taller. He was also much better looking. Like, dreamboat, hunky, drop-dead gorgeous, good-looking. He had those really light blue eyes that had you struggling to look directly into them.

“I uh… I noticed you don’t have a partner.” His hand moved a piece of his dirty blonde hair behind his ears, a piece that didn’t fit into the small bun he had in the back, then rubbed the back of his head. “I’m also partner-free. Maybe we can work together?”

“What happened to your partner?” You were unpacking the ingredients from the bag on your counter as you looked up at him.

“I came without one.” He smiled shyly.

“You came to a couple class without a partner?” You questioned, pausing your unpacking to focus on him.

“Didn’t you do the same thing?” He teased. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but realized it didn’t even matter. He was right. You were also partner-less in a couple class.

“I guess you’re right.” You laughed. “Okay, partners it is.”

“Great!” He quickly moved backwards to grab his stuff from his table and you resumed checking your inventory. “I’m Miche, by the way.”

You looked up and he was back, holding his hand out for you. You took it.

“Y/N.”

He moved back to his table and you watched him grab his black leather jacket and a backpack. Of course he would be wearing a black leather jacket. He had this whole rocker look going on that you definitely didn’t hate, but it was a bit predictable. He set his stuff down with yours and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt to wash his hands.

You watched him pump soap onto his hands and lather them up. He had pretty nice hands. They looked strong. Most of him looked strong though, but there was something about his hands that seemed really strong. You were starting to get lost in watching the soap lather up and roll away, the white bubbles disappearing as they slipped over the thick veins in his hands. You had no idea what his job was, but if you had to guess, it was something with his hands. Thick fingers, protruding veins, calloused palms when you shook his hand, definitely construction.

“So what made you come here partner-less, Y/N?” His question woke you from your daydream and you looked at him as he dried those strong hands.

“You first.”

“Me?” He turned around and leaned against the ledge of the counter, crossing his arms. “It was sort of an accident.”

“How so?”

“Well I try to take one of these classes a couple times a month. Not the couple one,” he corrected with a laugh, “but the regular one.”

A regular attendant of the cult cooking classes. Of course.

“Why do you take them so often?” You pulled out the knives and the cutting boards.

“Single guy, living alone. I got sick of eating garbage every night.” He bent down to help you pull out the tools you needed. “I’m actually pretty good with breads, but that class was full. That’s why I’m here.”

“A breads class would have been fun.” You spoke, but your mind was still stuck on the ‘single guy’ part.

“It’s tons of fun. There’s one open in a couple weeks, you should join it with me.” He smiled and you realized that even his smile was beautiful. It’s weird that from across the room he looked a bit creepy, but now he was nothing but charming. “Your turn.”

You both unloaded your armful of utensils and bowls from your arms and you considered how much of the real story you wanted to share with him. Did you really need a guy this good-looking, with this much potential so far, judging you?

“I kind of pissed off my best friend and she tricked me into coming here so she could ditch me.” Not really a lie, but certainly not the full truth.

“That’s some friend.”

“No, she is honestly a great friend. She really is.” You sighed. It wasn’t fair to give him a bad impression. You shrugged your shoulders and paused for a second. “I deserved it.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.” He organized everything on the counter so there was a cutting board and knife in front of each of you. Bowls were set behind the cutting boards and he moved the pan over to the stove.

“I don’t even know you. Why would I tell you my problems?” You crossed your arms and smiled at him, secretly enjoying the fact that he seemed quite interested.

“I am the exact person to tell. I will automatically be on your side.” You thought about what he said, a scrutinizing look on your face. “I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not.”

“Alright, let’s hear it then.” He mirrored your crossed arms.

“Okay, but let’s start making the sauce before we fall behind.”

You started reading the list and handed Miche the ingredients. Both of you measured them out and Miche mixed it all together.

“So, my friend, Fen—”

“Already don’t like her.”

“Hey!” You quickly looked at him and he laughed.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” He laughed, whisking the sauce in the small bowl and shaking his head.

You heard him mumbling something to himself, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. You could have sworn he said ‘so fucking cute’ but that didn’t make sense to you. Unless he was talking to the sauce. Even that didn’t make sense. You looked away quickly, biting your lip and moving some vegetables around the table awkwardly.

“You definitely have your friend’s back.” Miche continued, stopping his whisking to look at you. “So far, you seem like a great friend to me.”

You took a deep breath, hoping he couldn’t feel the heat coming from your face when you turned back to look at him.

“Well, you haven’t heard the worst part.” You continued. “Fen invited me to a work party. She sort of has this thing with her coworkers.”

“What kind of thing?”

“She hates them all.”

“Nice.” He laughed again. You’ve never giggled before. At least not that typical girly giggle that women do in movies when they’re flirting, but man did he make you want to giggle when he laughed. You held back and stuck with biting your lip.

“So I may have promised her I would go with her to make it a little easier, but last minute I got tickets to this concert.” You were doing your best to focus on your fingers lightly pulling on the stem of the bell pepper and not on the beautiful man standing next to you whose eyes you could feel looking at you.

“Oh.”

“So, I maybe… kind of…” The pepper was in your hands now, shifting from one hand to the other as you spoke. “… texted her right before the party and told her that I couldn’t go.”

You looked up at him slowly, his eyes were on you, slightly narrowed and he looked back to the bowl of sauce he had been whisking.

“Damn, you are a bad friend.” He shook his head.

“You said you would be on my side!” Your mouth dropped open and he threw his head back laughing as you stared at him and jokingly pushed him away from you.

“I’m sorry, I’m only kidding.” He put his hands up, still laughing. “Everyone’s done something like that before.”

“Yeah, well, she isn’t talking to me now.” You turned back to the vegetables on the table.

“I’m sure she will if you give her time.” He bumped his hip into yours and set the bowl on the counter in between where you both were standing and your eyes were drawn to his bracelet.

“I appreciate that.” You nodded, looking back up at him. “Oh! You know who is talking to me?”

“Who’s that?”

“The year 2004. It wants its leather cuff back.” You pointed to his wrist.

“Ah, very nice.” He laughed and looked down at his bracelets. “Well see, these are glued on.”

“Oh, are they?” He rotated his arms so you could see both sides of the cuffs.

“Yeah, I was pretty badass when I was younger.” He joked, taking a step closer to you.

“Mhm.” You laughed lightly, words were becoming more difficult to think of as he got closer, the heat from his body reaching yours without even needing to touch you.

“So yeah, they can’t come off now.” He smiled and you slowly looked up to him. “Permanent fixture.”

He wasn’t standing over you, but he was definitely leaning over you and you could feel the pressure of his size. You sucked in a quick breath of air, unable to think of anything other than just how close he was to you as he moved his hands to rest on either side of you, lowering himself so his face was level with yours.

“Cute.” Your bottom lip slipped in between your teeth. At this rate your lip would be bleeding by the end of the class.

His smile grew and in this position it would have honestly been incredibly uncomfortable if it weren’t for the genuine comfort you felt constantly rolling off of him. You sucked in another breath and smiled at him. He was about to take a step closer until the instructor’s voice caught the attention of both of you and you turned to look at her.

“I see some of you out there getting closer!” She walked the length of her table, and went back to chopping. “This is what cooking is about! Being close to your partner, really tasting the food. It’s a sensual experience. You need to feel the cooking with your partner!”

You noticed Miche removing his hands from resting on the counter and turning to stand next to you, starting to chop the bell pepper to follow the instructor. You moved over to your cutting board to do the same.

“No one here should be feeding themselves!” The instructor started moving around again, lifting her arms in a gesture to show she wanted more. “All of the ingredients are fresh and juicy and delicious! Let your partner taste it from you!”

You were about to start laughing, turning back to the red onion you were chopping when you felt Miche staring again. Ignoring it was your first thought, but when he shifted his position, leaning his back against the cutting board, you couldn’t help but look up.

He was holding a small sliver of bell pepper in his hand and holding it up to you.

“I—uh… we don’t have to do that.” You spoke, flustered, looking back at your cutting board.

“Come on.” “We’re not even a couple, we don’t have to follow what she says. It’s more for the other people here.” You gestured with your knife to the other couples feeding each other.

“Something tells me even if we were a couple, you would still argue against this.” He put his hand on yours and you stopped chopping, your eyes moving to his. “You don’t get chances like this often. Live a little.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by ‘chances like this’ but whatever he meant by it, he was right. It was easy to forget that a lot of the time, especially for you. You had a tendency to take things too seriously and when you were uncomfortable, which was quite often, you passed up ‘chances like this’, chances to have fun, chances to try something new, chances to get fed by a cute guy you just met. It was strange that Miche had already figured that out that about you.

He moved the bell pepper towards you and back away in a little dance of temptation and it made you laugh. You sighed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes and you opened your mouth.

“Wait, do you want to try it with the sauce?” He asked as he pulled the vegetable away from you.

“Might as well.” You shrugged. He scooped a small amount of the peanut sauce onto the pepper and cupped his hand under it as he lifted it to your mouth. He had a weird look on his face as he watched you chew. You couldn’t tell if he wanted you to like the sauce or wanted you to like the fact that he fed you. “It’s good.”

You’ve had peanut sauce before, but this one tasted different. It wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t something you wanted to be sticking plain bell peppers in. You had to admit though, the instructor was right, the bell pepper really was juicy and getting it fed to you was pretty nice too.

“My turn.” He smiled and nudged your cutting board closer to you to feed him. You looked at him confused.

“You want me to feed you an onion?”

“With sauce, please.” He opened his mouth, lowering himself down a little. It made no sense to you but you weren’t really going to judge him. You picked up a slice of onion and scooped some sauce, slowly carrying it to his mouth.

You watched as his face started out happy and then switched to confused as he chewed more. From there it moved to almost disgust and you saw his nostrils flare as he finally swallowed.

“That’s not right.” He coughed, drinking a sip of water.

“You ate it with an onion, Miche.” You laughed.

“I think it’s the sauce.” He scooped a tiny bit on his finger and tasted it, his face immediately puckering.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You leaned forward to smell it.

“No, it’s definitely the sauce. Here, try it.” He scooped some sauce on his finger and brought it to your mouth. You were about to taste it, but stopped, looking at the sauce on his finger and then to his face. As the smile grew on your face, his smile grew as well.

“You really thought I would fall for this?” Shaking your head, you turned back to your cutting board and he laughed.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t realize what I was doing until after my finger was in your mouth.” He laughed again, licking the sauce off his finger. “The sauce is actually pretty good.”

“So what is it that you do?” You asked him, not looking up from your onion.

“I’m a drummer.” He finished washing his hands and leaned against the counter next to you.

“I mean, like your job.”

“I’m a drummer.” He laughed and you looked up, staring at him.

“Oh, you’re serious? I’m sorry. I thought you were being funny because the leather cuff thing.” You hoped your face wasn’t radiating as much heat as you felt like it was and that he couldn’t feel it.

“I like to think I’m funnier than that.” He laughed, crossing his arms. You could feel him looking at you again. “I get it though. Not a lot of people see it as a real job.”

“No, no, I—” You saw him smiling at you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, I’m sorry.”

You set the knife down and closed your eyes. Perfect. You’ve insulted him. Sometimes you wondered why you bothered opening your mouth at all, stumbling over your words, saying things that come out rude. You’ve barely known him for twenty minutes and you’ve already offended him.

“I’m just teasing you.” He tapped your foot lightly with his. “You should come to a show. My band is playing in town tonight.”

“I should. It’s the least I can do.” The moment you said it, you knew how it sounded and you tried to correct yourself.

“The least you can do?” His eyes widened and he laughed. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“No, I know how that sounded. It’s not—I don’t pity—it’s not out of pity… oh my gosh.” You covered your face with your hands and faced the counter. Miche was cracking up next to you.

“I’m not offended, Y/N.” He tapped your shoulder. “Stop hiding.”

“It’s like I have a permanent foot in my mouth. I’m sorry.”

“Damn, you’re fun to tease.” He smiled and you stood up straight, taking a deep breath trying to pull yourself together a bit. You watched him lean over the counter and rest on his elbows, looking back at you. “What is it you do?”

“It’s not as interesting as being a drummer.” You leaned over the counter with him. “I’m a children’s book author.”

“Oh wow, not what I was expecting. How long have you been doing that?”

“Wait, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing, honestly. I just don’t meet a lot of authors.” You gave him a look with narrowed eyes. It was only fair that he offend you at that point. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone looked at your face and wondered how someone who looked so cold could write children’s books, but most people judged you too soon anyway. “Really, I wasn’t expecting anything. So how long have you been an author?”

“It’s basically been my only job. I wrote my first book when I was seventeen.” You shrugged. “So that’s, what?”

You did the math in your head. Math has never been something you’ve been good at. Miche was watching you try to add the small numbers in your head and laughed.

“You need help getting there?” He teased.

“Shut up.” You laughed. Math was hard. “Seventeen. Seventeen years.”

“I think you’re a little off.”

“Am I? Thirty-four minus seventeen is seventeen, right?”

“You’re thirty-four?” He stood up straight, his eyes wide. “I thought you were like twenty-five.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” You smiled, knowing that’s not what he meant, but also wanting to enjoy being the teaser for once.

“No, not a disappointment at all.” He smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Y—you… you look great.”

“Thank you.” That smile really did a number on you because you sat there staring at him until at some point you realized that twenty minutes had gone by and you both really hadn’t done anything as far as cooking. “We should probably keep cooking.”

You both went back to your cutting boards and continued working. Miche finished slicing the bell peppers and you noticed that he was staring at you quite a bit more than before. Not just that, but he was also moving closer to you. It’s not that you were complaining at all. Honestly, you were very okay with it, you were just wondering what the change was. You finished your onion, moving to boil the water for the rice vermicelli and starting on the cabbage.

Miche reached around you for the carrot, his chest pressed against your back, he set his hand on your upper arm and you looked up at him. His blue eyes sparkling so close to yours. You blinked slowly and looked down at his lips. He had the most perfect lips, full and soft and the most kissable shade of red. He was smirking and it made the corners of your lips turn up until you let out a silent exhale as you watched him lick his lips.

You felt like a kid. Like when kids see the ice cream truck and their face lights up and they start licking their lips and salivating, anticipating what that ice cream is going to taste like. That’s how you felt when you looked at Miche. A drooling child.

Each time you caught yourself staring like an idiot, you told yourself not to do it again, to keep your focus. But when he was brushing past you, touching your arms lightly, smiling at you, laughing with his big laugh, it was so hard not to look like a drooling child.

“Alright class!” The instructor’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “We’re coming up to the last ten minutes. I see some of you falling behind, but that’s okay! You want to start thinking about plating your food soon!”

“What the heck?” You looked to Miche with your eyes wide. “We barely have anything done. We haven’t even cooked the shrimp!”

“We still have ten minutes.” He reminded you.

“To plate!” You moved to the shrimp. “You take over the chopping, I will cook the shrimp.”

How in the world did forty-five minutes pass already? You knew you were having fun, but you both literally have only cut a bell pepper and an onion. Thankfully you had started boiling water for the stuff that took longer to cook. You dumped the shrimp in the pan and looked over to Miche eating the only vegetables you had cut.

“Stop eating it and plate it.” He jumped at your voice and you honestly wanted to laugh, but you were freaking out about how you were going to finish everything. He moved closer to you.

“Don’t worry so much.” He stood behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders. His hands were moving slightly as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to give you a massage or not. “Do you want me to do that?”

He moved to take the spoon from you, but you shook your head. You were feeling the pressure of the time and you had a feeling he could tell. The big red clock in the front of the room that showed nine minutes wasn’t helping. It’s not like you wanted to ruin the fun, you were having fun before, but now… you just weren’t.

“Here, eat this.” He brought a bell pepper with peanut sauce on it to your mouth.

“Miche, I just want to get this done. We’re already—”

“We’re already what? This is a class we paid for, we can do whatever we want.” He watched your eyes move to the clock and back to him and he smiled. “You’re really bothered by that, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want to be late.” You sighed. He lifted the bell pepper up again.

“You’ll feel better after you eat this.”

“I doubt that.” He pretended to frown at you and it made you smile. “I will eat it, but then you need to julienne the carrots.”

“Whatever you say.” He put the pepper in your mouth.

You chewed as you turned back to the stove and added the rice vermicelli to the boiling water, looking back over to how Miche was doing. He put the bell peppers on the plate with the onions and was cutting the carrots into cubes. Large, uneven cubes.

“Julienne, Miche, julienne!” You complained. Miche dropped the knife on the cutting board.

“Who the fuck is Julienne?” He whispered turning to you. You stared at him. He had a serious look in his eyes. He genuinely had no idea what you were talking about and it was so wholesome that it took everything you had not to squeeze him. This giant man was so adorable, it was killing you.

You put your hand on his shoulder and started laughing. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. Your shoulders were shaking and you put your face into your elbow, trying to muffle the sound.

“Did I say something?” He watched you, but all it did was make you laugh even harder. You moved to pull your hand from his shoulder to cover your face and he grabbed it, holding onto it and smiling at you. You weren’t sure if maybe you had just given up on making anything correctly or you finally realized it didn’t matter, but seeing Miche smiling as you nearly peed your pants from laughing seemed way more important to you in that moment than anything else.

You got yourself to stop laughing and didn’t even bother looking at the clock. Your eyes were watering from laughing so hard and you wiped them, still giggling when you thought about how ridiculously cute this guy was. He was still smiling and finally dropped your hand only to hold your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe whatever tears you missed.

It was strange to you how oddly comfortable you were in that moment. You hated when people touched you, especially people you barely knew and meeting Miche less than an hour before definitely put him in that category. But standing there with him holding your cheeks didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You hesitantly set your hands on his ribs, unsure if he was okay with your touch. It was a weird place to hold, but it felt like a natural placement until he moved closer to you and they slipped around his back and you let out a quiet gasp. It had been a while since you had been this close to a man and you were actually kind of enjoying it.

“How is everyone feeling?” The instructor’s voice pulled you back into the kitchen and you blinked, moving to turn your head, but Miche held your face. His smile widened the tiniest bit before he squeezed your cheeks lightly, squishing your face forward and he let go, laughing to himself. You narrowed your eyes at him, but couldn’t help but smile when you saw him laughing.

As you turned to the instructor, having missed most of what she said, you realized that the moment you and Miche just had seemed to give him permission to be closer to you because he was completely pressed up against your back, hands on either side of you as they rested on the counter. If there was a way to describe the feeling of being pleasantly caged in, you would use it to describe how you felt. Maybe cozy was a good way to describe it.

“It’s finally time to eat what you and your partner created so grab those plates and let’s get to the dining area!” The instructor danced her way to the dining area and you and Miche looked down at your plates and laughed, carrying what you could to the dining area.

The dining area was just a small room with a lot of windows, a wall of plants and ten or so bistro tables. It sort of seemed like a large greenhouse and was cute in a small café sort of way. The sunlight coming through the windows also added a great feeling.

You and Miche set your plates on an open table and sat down. He immediately slid his chair a bit closer to you and you both turned to the instructor, listening to her long-winded way of saying ‘enjoy the food’ and finally turned back to each other.

“At least we know the sauce will be good.” You dipped your rice paper in the hot water and pulled it out before it got soft, trying to put whatever vegetables you could in it, laughing as you sifted through the chunks of carrots. You rolled it up and dipped it in the sauce, watching Miche make his.

His rice paper was still hard and he folded it over instead of rolling it. The paper got too soft too quickly and he couldn’t get it off the plate. You sat there and smiled, trying not to laugh as you chewed your food. As his spring roll fell apart when he lifted it, you finally had enough.

“It’s not a taco, Miche. Here, let me do it.” You took a fresh rice paper and dipped it in the water, added the vegetables and rolled it up. You dipped it in the sauce, holding it up for him and he opened his mouth. “You need me to feed you?”

“I’m sure it will taste better this way.” He smiled, resting his hand on yours to steady the roll before taking a bite and sitting back, chewing. You didn’t want to sit and watch him eat, but you couldn’t get yourself to look away. The way his jaw worked and flexed as he chewed, the way his eyes closed as he tasted the food, the way he let out a small groan to tell you how good it was, the way he gave a little thumbs up, you didn’t want to miss any of it. “So good.”

“It would probably be better with carrots.” You teased.

“Let me make you one,” he said excitedly.

You weren’t really sure you wanted that. You saw his first attempt and you really didn’t want to be eating crunchy rice paper with chunks of carrots and onions. You eyed him as he started, he was definitely watching you make the last roll for him because this time his roll wasn’t that bad. You opened your mouth and took a bite, watching as Miche put what was left in his mouth.

“What do I have to do to get you to come to my show tonight?” He asked as he wiped his mouth.

“You still want me to come?” He smiled and nodded.

“Definitely.”

“Well class, it’s been a fun hour, but the next class will be coming in soon so it’s time to clean up!” The instructor spoke about how great everyone did and how we can sign up for her other classes at the front desk. No one was required to clean and you watched as everyone stood up to leave.

“Before we leave—” Miche put his hand on yours and you looked at him. He opened his mouth but nothing was coming out, he just sort of stared at you, trying to find words. “Do you… Um, maybe, do you want to get ice cream or something? I know a good place. It’s really close.”

He was asking you out. He was definitely asking you out. He even looked nervous and it was twisting your insides into the tightest knot you’ve ever felt. The excitement and shock sent a flush of heat to your cheeks. There was no way you could play it cool, even if you tried. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest in the best way and you opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going.

“It doesn’t have to be ice cream, if you don’t like it.” He added quickly, laughing to himself as his hand went to rub the back of his head and his cheeks tinted pink. “I just kind of want to spend more time with you.”

“I love ice cream.” You smiled, biting your lip. Fen might actually kill you for coming out of this experience with a date. Especially a date as amazing as Miche. He let out a sigh and smiled, standing up and taking your hand.

“Should we go?”

He was right about the ice cream place being close. It was more of a cart and only a couple blocks away from the cooking class. You weren’t actually sure if this was considered a date, but this ice cream cart location was certainly a perfect date spot. It was right next to a park with a cute path for strolling.

“What can I get you?” He pulled out his wallet.

“I can pay, you don’t have to pay for me.” You dug around your purse.

“I invited you. Don’t worry about it.” You stared at him. You hated when people paid for you. It felt weird and you felt like then you owed them something and you weren’t really sure where this was going for you to be able to pay him back. Miche saw your hesitation and smiled. “How about I buy you ice cream and you can pay me back by coming to my show.”

“Still trying to get me to go, huh?”

“I will keep trying anything to get to see you again.” He laughed. “I’ll even let you buy me a drink. Deal?”

“Deal.” The smile that grew on his face made your heart dance around in your chest. You got your ice cream and walked together along the park path. Whether it was a date or not, it was a really nice afternoon that you weren’t expecting to have had based on where you were a couple hours before.

“So you’re trying to become a vet?” You asked him. You were both sitting on a bench you found halfway through the park’s path as you finished your last couple bites of ice cream.

“Not really actively yet.” He laughed. “I’ve taken a couple classes and I love animals so I think I might do it.”

“It would definitely suit you.” You nodded licking your ice cream.

“You think so?” There was that smile again. He always looked so grateful and happy. You found it so comforting, but also confusing because you looked the exact opposite and couldn’t understand why he kept calling you cute. “If my apartment allowed pets, I would probably have a bunch of dogs by now. I guess it’s good that they don’t.”

“So how long have you been a drummer?” You ate the last bite of your cone. “As a career, I mean.”

“Not long. Maybe five years.” He shrugged.

“What were you doing before that?”

“I don’t know that I want to talk about that yet.” He laughed nervously.

“That bad?”

“Not bad. I just didn’t really like myself very much then. I didn’t… I wasn’t very happy.” He shifted in his seat and you worried that you made him uncomfortable, but he was still smiling so it must not be that bad. “Not all of us found our dream job at seventeen.”

“I wouldn’t call it my dream job.” You laughed. He was smiling, but his face dropped, looking almost worried. He started leaning closer to you which made you lean back away from him. Was he trying to kiss you? If he was trying to kiss you, he picked the most random time to do it. Not to mention, he had a look on his face that didn’t seem like he even wanted it. He held your chin and touched your hair and you looked at him. He wasn’t even looking at you, but you still waited for him to lean in more. Instead, he sat back on the bench.

“Sorry, there was a bug in your hair.” He flicked it away.

“Oh.” You looked down, internally laughing at yourself. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

You quickly looked up in front of you, not meaning to say that out loud to him. You opened your mouth and a nervous noise came out. Miche started laughing and you looked at him.

“Don’t worry.” He tapped your shoulder. “I won’t kiss you without asking.”

“Oh.” There was definitely disappointment in your voice and you were hoping maybe he couldn’t hear it even though you thought it was painfully obvious.

“Would you let me though?” He asked.

“What?” You looked back at him.

“Kiss you?” That little smirk sat on his lips and distracted you from his question to the point that you had to look away.

“I think I would.” You nod slowly.

“Why did you lean away then?”

“It’s a reflex, I guess.” You explained and he smiled, his hand going to his facial hair and rubbing.

“So… then can I?”

“Can you what?” You looked back at him and felt stupid for looking back and forth between him and the ground. It was dumb for you to feel nervous when he clearly looked nervous himself. His hand was on the back of his head where he was rubbing, a slightly unsure smile on his face.

“Can I kiss you?” He laughed. It was amazing how good you were at making things so incredibly awkward. You were about to grab him and kiss him yourself just to end this conversation because you were sure it was only a matter of time before you said something really dumb. Like maybe ‘it’s the least you could do’.

You nodded your head, hoping that was enough for him to understand. He lifted up from the bench, leaning towards you, his face approaching yours quickly as his hand reached for your cheek. He was really going to do it then? You felt yourself leaning away again and tried to stop, but you couldn’t. His eyes closed as he got close enough to you and you panicked a little.

“Wait, wait.” You put your hand on his mouth and he opened his eyes. “I give you permission to kiss me, but not like this. Sorry. I don’t know why it’s awkward when I know it’s coming.”

“You want me to surprise you?” His eyes went wide with shock. He didn’t move back from how close he was to you, instead stayed right in front of your face and chuckled.

“It’s not like I want to be scared.” You laughed, shifting a little in your spot. “I just feel like I need to wait for the right moment to enjoy it or it’s awkward.”

“Why is it awkward?” He leaned back, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.” You sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I ruined this. I just…I take things too seriously.”

“Oh, I definitely figured that out.” He laughed, closing his eyes and laying his head back. “And stop worrying, you didn’t ruin anything.”

“Should we try again?” You sat forward and looked at him. You’ve only known Miche for an afternoon and he was already realizing one of your worst traits.

“So you can just go through the motions? No.” He smiled. “Kissing is fun. You don’t need to wait for any right moment to do it. You just take control and make it yourself.”

“I don’t know that I—"

“I’ll tell you what.” He sat up and looked at you. “I’m going to get you to make the special moment that you need all on your own and you are going to kiss me.”

“You—”

“No arguing. I’m starting now.” He laid his head back on the bench and closed his eyes and you stared at him confused as to how him doing the exact same thing he was doing was going to make you kiss him.

You waited, looking at him for a good couple minutes, but he didn’t move. You looked around the park, thinking maybe inspiration would come from the ducks in the pond across from you. You were honestly trying. Moments didn’t just come out of nowhere though. You looked back to Miche and he was still in the same spot and you really thought that he might have fallen asleep.

You sighed, setting your back to the bench again and Miche’s hand made its way around your back and pulled you against him. There was a moment where you tried to look up at him, but his hand was resting on your head and he guided you to lay your head on his chest. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but you did feel a little strange cuddled up to him like this. It wasn’t until he moved his hand to your waist that you felt like you could breathe.

You took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself into his body. It still didn’t feel like a moment, but it was definitely something worth enjoying for a little. You took another deep breath, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, just under your chin and closed your eyes. You probably could have fallen asleep. Between the slight breeze in the park, the warmth of Miche’s chest under your cheek, the slight scent of his cologne or deodorant or possibly really nice body odor, the continual rise and fall of his chest, the sounds of the ducks dipping into the pond water and the faint thud of Miche’s heartbeat under your ear, you could sleep. You focused on the rhythmic beat of his heart, slow and steady. The calm, even, unchanging drumming against your cheek.

You slid yourself a little closer, trying to position yourself to better hear it and you heard it change, shifting slightly. You stopped your movements, focusing on hearing the change. It was easier to hear in this position and you could not only hear the change, but you could feel it. His heart was beating faster, harder against his chest. You smiled and slid your hand across his stomach to lower your ear. He inhaled sharply and you felt his pulse race again. You brought your hand back over his chest and his hand lightly rubbed your waist.

Your entire body was tingling and you could only think that maybe his was too. Your heart was racing as you heard the speed of his heart beat. This was fun. This was more than fun. This was amazing. You were in total control. You were completely focused and in complete control of this moment. This moment was yours and it was going to be as special as you wanted it to be, as special as you made it.

You were at your limit, an unexpected pull forcing you to lift your head, look up at Miche, and smile. He finally lifted his head to look at you and when he saw your face, he smiled back. It’s as if you were a different person. Any other time, you would feel the need to wait an arbitrarily appropriate amount of time before you could kiss someone. But this time was different. There was no waiting, your hand moved to his cheek, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone softly before you hurriedly lifted yourself to reach his lips.

The moment your lips met, his free hand moved to the back of your head and he helped pull you closer to him. He had this weird way of holding you tightly, but at the same time so gently. He sat up a little more as his lips moved against yours. It surprised you that you were the first one to slip your tongue out and sweep it across his top lip. Miche sighed into you, opening his mouth, and quickly pulling you into his lap, his tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. He lifted you until you were straddling his legs and kept his hand on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

The reminder that you were sitting on a park bench in public flew across your mind and quickly disappeared as Miche’s hands moved up your back, bringing your chest to rest against his. The warmth of his cheek under your hand and the way he kept sitting up to get closer to you was making it increasingly more difficult to keep the kiss a suitable rating for any eyes that might be watching you. Your body was growing hotter and Miche’s tiny sighs into your mouth weren’t helping. A particularly loud sigh, bordering on a moan, finally had you put your hand on his shoulder and lean back.

Miche’s eyes were still closed when you opened your eyes to look at him and he licked his lips. If there was a limit to how handsome he could look, you were sure that was it. His eyes were fluttering lightly as he held them closed, his cheeks were pink and his lips were sitting in a small smirk, wet and still that perfect shade of red.

“Hm...” You smiled and his hands lowered to your hips as he opened his eyes. “You’re a much better kisser than I thought you’d be.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.” He smiled and leaned back into you, pressing his lips against yours again.

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

-

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

-

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //

[sashatheswift]

Boba Fett x GNReader

Warnings: Smut. Sex is mentioned but not written in detail

Fennec was the one who recommended you for the job. You were not an assassin like her but a paid thief. You could get in anywhere and take anything. What was needed was of no concern to you, as a job was a job.

As you exit your ship and step foot on Tatooine, the dry air whipping around, this was not a welcome you wanted. But Fennec said that it would be worth your while.

The directions were clear, go to the Daimyo’s home and seek a meeting with Boba Fett. Then you would receive the details on what he needed. You had never met Boba personally, only had heard stories of the fearless bounty hunter. This was sure to be interesting.

Two Gamorreans stood outside, posted gaurd. As you became closer to the building their grunts and squeals started going in your general direction. Stopping a few feet from them you explained, “ I am here to see the Daimyo, Boba Fett, he should be expecting me.”

One of the pig men went to confirm this meeting, as the other one kept an eye on you. You shuffled your feet, not out of anxiousness but out of impatience. Your time was valuable, expensive even.

The other guard came back, and grunted motioning into the building. As you were lead to the throne room, a droid announced your arrival. Going to the middle of the room, you stood facing a man in suit of Beskar armor. To his right was your longtime friend, Fennec.

“Not the warmest welcome for a dear friend, but I suppose it will have to do” You teased Fennec, “now that I am hear, what is that you needed?”

Fennec smiled slightly, “ I see how the security may seem a bit much but the Daiymo’s safety is my responsibility and I will ensure it is secure at every corner.” You laugh, “ even when you invite me into your home, you still don’t trust me Fen, you never have.”

Fennec grins, “ Anyone who trusts you would be a fool, as you could talk a Tusken out of their last drink of water.” With that she goes to you and embraces you, it had been years since you two had last seen each other.

Then Boba clears his throat, trying to keep the meeting on the correct path. You and Fennec side eye each other, “ Boba”, Fennec says, “ this is the one I was telling you about, the old friend of mine who can get us what we need, without the bloodshed you wish to avoid.”

Your eyes travel to the man sitting on the throne before you, he lifts up his helmet. Perhaps he did this to get a better look at your, or to have his words come through better but regardless it seemed that Fennec had failed to mention that Boba was extremely handsome, and just your type.

With a twinkle in your smile and spark in your voice you say, “ It seems Fennec forgot to mention that the current Daiymo of Tatooine is also the most handsome one I have had the pleasure of working for.”

Boba laughs, “ I suppose I should take that as a compliment as my predecessors were not known for their dashing good looks”, he grins, “But I do say the pleasure is all mine, for I have never had the galaxy’s most divine being stand in my court until today”

The room is quiet as you two share a look. Both wondering what to say next.This time it is Fennec who clears her throat, clearly wanting to move on. “ We are needing a datapad that contains the Pykes supply routes for their spice.

You turn quickly to her, “ If you want me to piss off the Pikes, well then your gonna have to pay extremely well, because that is nothing short of a death wish.”

Boba and Fennec eye each other, finally after a few moment of silence Boba says, “ name your price and we will double it”

“ Very well” you say as you reach into your satchel, “ here is what you needed”. You pull out a chrome datapad you had stolen the day prior.

Fennec gasps, “ how did you possibly know we needed this?” She exclaims.

“ We all make a living, mine is information and materials, yours is bodies, dead or alive.” You giggle at Fennec and Boba’s surprised looks. “ I will be in town till tomorrow, I will stop by later to talk about and collect payment, as for now I need a drink”.

A few hours later you come back to the home of the Daiymo, but this time you just use the unguarded kitchen door. You remind yourself to tell Fennec about this major security blunder later. As you enter the kitchen you see Boba pouring himself a drink.

“ I would have thought the Daiymo would have a droid or a servant to pour him his drinks?” You say, making the former bounty hunter jump. His soft eyes go to you, sending you shivers, as you notice his eyes wander farther than your face.

He steps closer to you, studying you. “ It is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to break into the Daiymo’s house, which one do you prefer” Now if it wasn’t for the smile on his face, you would have thought he was upset, but this was playful jest… at the very least.

“ I’ve always imagined myself a courageous person, already wanting to take on a challenge.” You muse, moving closer to him. “ I plan to leave tomorrow morning, I came to collect payment for a job well done”

Boba is now inches from you, leans in and says, “ I think you should postpone departure for the next day”, he lifts your chin with his finger, “ because tomorrow your gonna be to sore for travel.”

Your lips grazing each other, “ I still expect payment, my Daiymo”, saying this lights a fire in his eyes. “ you will get your payment, plus-“ he moves his hand hand down your back, with a growl in his voice he says “ I want to give you so much more.”

You take the leap and lock lips, your hands start feverishly feel his body. His hands start to trail yours. Finally you both break for air. He looks longingly at you, then he whispers into your ear, “ I would be honored if you would spend the night with me”.

Your hands travel up his chest to the back of his neck, you lean in and say, “ The honor would be all mine, my Daiymo.” He kisses your neck deeply, making you moan softly. He leads you to the bedroom, and proceeds to make this the best job you have ever taken.

[featherymalignancy]

PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before. 

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️ 

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up. 

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”. 

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after. 

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

 As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off. 

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

 Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him.  Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms. 

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured. 

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head. 

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

 “Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

“That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well. 

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked. 

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said. 

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself. 

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set.  Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

 Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile. 

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped. 

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked. 

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off. 

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

 “I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin. 

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

 Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter  prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up. 

It was match point. 

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

 Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

 26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

 29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy. 

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

 “Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan  imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed. 

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor. 

Lorcan rolled his eyes. 

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan  just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

X

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA. 

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

 “No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.  

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey. 

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them. 

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said, 

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s. 

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️ 

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[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

His smile was blinding, as always, but Elide didn’t believe him. There was something holding him back. “We’ve thwarted the wicked witch, El,” Fenrys cheered, lifting her up and spinning her around. 

Elide squealed, hitting his back as Fenrys slung her over his shoulder and sprinted down the hallway, “Fen, my whole ass is out!” She reached around, pulling down the hem of her black dress. Fenrys batted her hands away. 

“It’s only half out,” he pouted. “And it’s a nice ass, it’d be mean to only let me see.” 

Elide slapped him upside the head, hissing, “I don’t even let you see it.” Fenrys snorted and slowed down, putting her down in front of her doors, holding onto her waist to make sure she didn’t tip over on her heels. “And I’m a future duchess, a royal one, I can’t have any of my ass hanging out.” She crossed her arms, glaring up at him. 

“You’re a future duchess ‘cause of who, again?” 

She rolled her eyes at him, patting his face a bit too hard, “Don’t be a dick, sweetie-pie.” 

He laughed, tipping his head back. Elide laughed as well, their hysterical chuckles ringing out throughout the hall. 

Eventually they calmed down, grinning wildly as they wiped tears from their eyes. 

Elide looked at her door handle, “I should go to bed… do you wanna, I dunno, come in? I was going to watch something, hang out with my dog.” 

Fenrys nodded, “For sure, Ellie. My choice, ok?” He winked and opened the door, sneaking past her. With a flourish, he opened the door, bowing as he ushered her in. Elide shook her head at him, but the second she took another step, Fenrys had scooped her up and kicked the door behind him with a resound slam. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Fen, get off, fat ass,” Elide groaned, pushing the man off. It turned out that Fenrys was a cuddler and though they had fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed, by the time Elide woke up the next day, Fenrys had wrapped himself around her. 

Fenrys whined, decidedly keeping his eyes screwed shut, “Where is my lovely fiancée running off to, so early in the morn?” 

“The gym, now move,” she growled, smiling triumphantly when he rolled away and she could get out of bed. 

“I’ll be lonely, with the bed so cold.” 

Elide glanced over her shoulder, moving out of the way when Bear bounded to the space she had vacated, “Bear can keep you company.” 

“At least Bear will never stop loving me,” Fenrys crooned, fawning over the overgrown puppy. “Won’t you, girlie, huh? No, I’m your favourite.” 

“That’s cause you give her treats when she’s not supposed to have any,” Elide scolded jokingly as she padded into her closet to change. 

When she walked back out, her long hair smoothed back into a high ponytail, both Bear and Fenrys were passed out, sprawled across the plush mattress. Elide chuckled and kissed them both on their foreheads before heading out. 

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Lorcan danced on the balls of his feet, glaring at the heavy bag as if it had personally offended him before jabbing with his left hand and swiftly following it with a powerful roundhouse. The bag swung when his shin connected with it and Lorcan jabbed again, kicking once more. His hips twisted with the drive of his leg, making sure the kick was strong before springing back. 

After a few rounds - switching every minute - his knuckles were smarting from the rough wrapping and Lorcan stopped, breathing heavily. 

He could still feel his anger rolling in his gut so he carried out a complicated pattern that ended with a spinning back kick and the heavy bag straining against the chain it hung from as it swung wildly. 

Lorcan reached out, steadying it with his hand before he stalked over to his water bottle on the bench. He sat down heavily, his lungs burning. Practically ripping his wraps off, Lorcan blew away a flyaway strand of hair that had escaped the single braid going down the length of his spine. 

When the strand just settled back down on the bridge of his nose, Lorcan glared at it, pushing it back. 

“Why don’t you just redo your braid?” 

He shut his eyes, managing to keep his mouth shut and not curse aloud. With more control than he thought he had, Lorcan stood up and did not look at Elide, “I can’t.” 

In the corner of his eye, he saw her prop her hand on her hip, tilting her head to the side in a condescending way, “Why not?” 

Lorcan almost told her to fuck off and mind her own business, but he’d promised Rowan and Fenrys that he would do his best to be civil. In a terse tone, he bit out, “Hair is sacred. I have to have the right intentions when I touch it and I’m pissed right now, so.” 

“Why are you pissed?” Any condescension seemed to have left her stance, replaced with intrigue. That probably had more to do with a desired elaboration of what his hair meant to him - not that Lorcan had any inclination to do so - than his being pissed.

He snapped, “Do you always ask this many questions?” 

Elide rolled her eyes, somehow looking down her pert nose at him despite the fact he towered over her by almost half a metre, “I was just wondering.” 

“Well,” he narrowed his eyes, giving her a mocking smile, “don’t.” Lorcan sipped from his water bottle, watching her carefully as Elide moved around him. He tensed when she walked behind him. 

Elide noticed, her face somewhat falling. “I’m not going to touch your hair, Lorcan,” she said quietly. “I would never do that.” 

Lorcan was speechless. He slowly put the bottle down, trying to find the words. Elide frowned, looking down at the floor. She picked at her nails, frowning harder at the ring on her finger. Without a thought, Lorcan quipped as he stood, “Having second thoughts, sweetheart?” 

Like always, she snapped her head up, “No, I am not. And I am not your sweetheart.” 

“Mmm, I see that you enjoy the possessiveness, but I didn’t say my sweetheart… sweetheart,” he said, with a wink and somewhat filthy grin. “Have a fun workout, Elide.” Lorcan picked up his t-shirt before sliding past her to the treadmill to cool down. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide fumed as she pulled herself up on the bar and slowly lowered herself. She glared into the mirror at Lorcan, who was jogging on a treadmill. 

She finished her pull-ups and dropped down, landing lightly on her feet. About to move to her next rep, Elide looked over her shoulder to find the door swinging shut behind Lorcan. 

Something like anger, anger she’d never known, sparked in her chest and Elide chased after him, slamming the door open, “Hey!” 

Lorcan glanced behind at her, a brow arched, “What?” He didn’t stop walking, his long legs eating up distance faster than hers ever could. Elide sped up, her pace faltering when her ankle smarted. 

She didn’t notice how he slowed slightly, a concerned gaze zoning in on her leg. Soon enough, Elide had caught up to him, “I don’t get what your fucking problem is. What did I ever do to you that was so bad that you felt the need to tell the whole world that I was unfit for what I was born to do?” 

Lorcan stopped walking and looked down at her with a blank expression. 

Elide seethed, hissing, “I know you think I’m some joke, Salvaterre. Did you and your horrid aunt sit around with that horrid lordling to plan that dance? Wh-what, you came to save me like you were a fucking hero only to humiliate me?”

“We danced for a minute, Elide,” he said drily, “not exactly what I would plan, if I had planned it.” Her heart cracked a bit in her chest, to hear him be so dismissive about it. Despite herself, despite everything that had happened, it meant something to her. It meant so damned much to her.

She frowned, shrugging her shoulder, “It was more than a minute.” 

Amusement stole across his breathtaking face. His perfectly shaped lips curled into a crooked smile, “Well, maybe a minute and a half.” 

“Fine, it was a minute and a half, but you lied.” 

He tilted his head to the side, “And how did I do that?” 

Elide crossed her arms over her chest, “You didn’t tell me who you were and that you were trying to steal my title.” 

Lorcan rolled his eyes, “Oh, forgive me, your royal Grace, I guess I forgot that it’s customary to show a girl your entire family tree before dancing with her.” 

She gasped, “Oh, you- I’m going to kill you.” They heard voices down the hall and Elide grabbed his arm, dragging him with her into a cozy broom closet. She flipped the light on, glaring up at him, “The lie dance is not the point, Lorcan. It’s–” 

“What is the point then,” he asked, flicking the light off. 

Elide sent him a withering glower before she turned it back on, “The point is that I’m onto you. I know what you’re trying to do.” 

Lorcan raised his brows in a fake impressed look, “Oh, really?” 

“Yes,” she hissed. “Do you not think I saw you last night, talking to Fenrys?” 

Elide couldn’t discern what flashed over his face before he schooled it into a visage of cool neutrality, “I was already on the balcony. Your fiancé came to talk to me, so…” 

“That is irrelevant. I beat your little game and you’re trying to cheat at it. I’m going to marry Fenrys, Lorcan, why does that annoy you so much?” 

“You don’t know a fucking thing about him. He has his own life, you know. Fen doesn’t magically exist to fix your problems,” Lorcan snapped, a different type of indignation flaring in his gaze. Elide played it off as jealousy and the bitterness of defeat now that there was nothing in her way. 

“Problems,” she laughed coldly, stepping in as close as she could and stabbing her sharp nail into his chest, “that you created, Lorcan. You think I’m any happier with uprooting his life?” 

He shrugged, his face settled into cold disdain.

Elide laughed again, the sound hollow. She opened her mouth, about to rip into him when someone opened the door. She tried to jump back, but in the enclosed space, there was nowhere to go. 

The poor maid gasped, her eyes as wide as saucers. They snapped between Lorcan and Elide and she stammered, “O-oh my g-go-ds, I-I’m, I am so sorry, ma’am.” 

Elide tried to argue, but the girl closed the door, ignoring her protests. She rounded on Lorcan, her gaze like a live wire. “You–”

Lorcan reached for the door handle, turning it and pushing the door open, “You should really learn more about your fiancé.” 

Without another word, he stalked away, leaving Elide stunned in the broom closet. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Channeling all her anger into her arm, Elide threw the stick and watched it as it sailed through the air. Bear barked once, quickly tearing after it into the woods. 

Someone whistled from behind her. Elide whirled, relaxing slightly when she saw that it was only Fenrys. “Damn, Lochan, you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you could throw like that?” 

“Thanks,” she said shortly, turning back to keep an eye on Bear. “What are you doing out here.” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Fenrys commented, sidling up to stand next to her. It was late and dark, but with the lights of the palace, Elide could see that he had already gotten prepared for bed. The hood of his Doranelle University hoodie was pulled over his head, but the shine of the silk durag he wore to protect his waves peeked through. “Lorcan told me he saw you out here.” 

Elide scowled, not answering as Bear bounded back and dropped the stick. Her heavy tail wagged enthusiastically as she sat and waited patiently. Fenrys picked up the stick before Elide could and tossed it, smiling at the way Bear eagerly chased after it. “So, what’d Lorcan do this time?” 

She groaned, letting out a slight scream of frustration, “I hate him so much. He- I- I can’t even articulate how much he bothers me. Like, today, for instance,” Elide didn’t notice Fenrys’ cheeky grin as she launched into her tirade, “I went to the gym and he’s just there, being pissed for no good reason and acting like I would- would hurt him in some way!” 

He tilted his head to the side, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatshorts, “How did you get that?” 

Elide rolled her eyes, “His stup- his braid was coming undone and he kept blowing away the hair and so I asked him why he didn’t just redo it and he-” she breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly to collect herself, he supposed. “He told me that he couldn’t redo his braid without good intentions and since he was angry, he wouldn’t do it. I mean,” she scoffed, “what does he have to be angry about? If anything, I should be the pissed off person in this scenario. And I am!”

His friend began to pace back and forth, not noticing how Bear trotted back to drop the stick down in front of Fenrys. “Then he tells me that me uprooting your life is somehow my problem when he’s the thief. Throne thief.” Elide threw her hands up, “And, like, he’s acting like he knows you and you guys are friends…” she trailed off, the words dying in her throat when Fenrys looked away and pushed his hood down. 

He ran his hand over his wave cap, blowing out slowly. 

“You guys are friends.” Elide drew back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Well, ok, um… I think I need a minute–” 

“El, it’s really not like that. He didn’t know until I got here and- and we haven’t seen each other in years,” Fenrys protested. “We went to the same boarding school and we roomed together with my brother and Rowan and his cousin Vaughan. I’m not helping him with any of it, I would never do that.” 

Elide looked at him distrustfully, staring directly into his eyes. Fenrys fought the impulse to avoid her piercing gaze. After a few moments, Elide sighed, her shoulders slumping inwards, “Of course, I’m- I’m sorry, Fen. He just drives me fucking crazy.”

Fenrys raised a lightened brow, giving her a slow smile. Elide glanced at him momentarily, distracted by Bear, who was barreling at full force towards the pair. She looked back at him in shock and horror, “Oh my gods, no, Fen! I am not into Lorcan.” She hissed his name with a visceral disgust. 

He picked up the stick before she could and hurled it away, laughing as he ran after the dog, “I didn’t say anything!” 

Elide exclaimed in rage, flipping him off when he looked over his shoulder, “Yeah, you better fucking run, Marama!”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: hey ! lorcan is indigenous in this story, specifically lakota, and his hair holds a lot of meaning ! here are some super cool links for you to educate yourself further on the significance of hair in lakota culture because i am the furthest thing from an expert! 

https://sistersky.com/blogs/sister-sky/the-significance-of-hair-in-native-american-culture

http://keepersoftheword.org/traditions/native-americans-long-hair/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/understanding-grief/201710/death-and-bereavement-among-the-lakota

@mythicaitt​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @ladyverena​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​  @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm​ @hizqueen4life​ @silversprings98​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival​ @sanakapoor​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @spyofthenightcourt​ @januarystears​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @magicalunicorngypsy​ @elriel4life​ @sensitiveillyrian​comment/ask to be added or removed from the tag list 🥰

[louiseleblancdiggory]

 Once Upon a December

Chapter 2: On This Journey to the Past Home

A/N: I had such a hard time coming up with the best way to write this chapter since it’s the introduction of six characters at the same time. I hope it’s not too bad. Also, if you’re gonna ask to be tagged could you please send an ask? It’s easier for me and if I forgot to tag you, just message me. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Despite the fear clawing its way into her mind, the deep chuckle from the cloaked man behind her soothed some of her nerves. His voice was cold and deep, even when he was laughing. And if he was laughing, it meant that they weren’t mad enough to kill her, right?

Or maybe they’re a bunch of murderers and are laughing because they’ll take their sweet time with you.

Lin didn’t raise her head from the marble floor, her body being taken by the pain of slamming against the man and then the floor. Her eyes went from one man to the next. Two of them stood a little bit behind the other three. One of them had a black cloak and the other had a white one. The white one, she realized, had been the one she saw smiling earlier. She wondered if he was smiling now, but the cloak and the shadows didn’t let her see it. The man she had decked across the face stood in front of her, his arms crossed and even with his charcoal grey coat hiding his features, she could sense the sneer on his face.

Not that she was in position to pick, but she would very much prefer dealing with the white cloaked man than this one.

The guy was flanked by two other in brown. Although, differently from their apparent leader, they didn’t bother hiding their faces. Both tan, with harsh features and tawny eyes. One was blonde, appearing to be in his late thirties or maybe even forties. The other one looked more around late twenties, his ebony hair tucked in a low pony. In any other situation, she might have found them somewhat attractive.

She didn’t dare turn around to see the one that had stopped her.

“Shouldn’t someone take that bottle from her?” The man in white asked, stepping into the light. If she hadn’t been laying down, her jaw might have dropped at the sight of his face. He could very well be the most handsome man she had ever laid her eyes upon. Flawless brown skin, dark blonde hair and black eyes, he looked like the warrior-princes in the books she read. “I mean she did manage to deck Lorcan across the face and run a fucking lot. And then there is also the pup ready to bite our ankles.”

Lorcan. The man in charcoal grey was named Lorcan.

She heard the footsteps of the man behind her before she saw him. He unhurriedly walked to her front to join his companions, and Lin finally sat up. As Lorcan, his face was hidden by his light grey cloak. She picked the dog up and stood, taking a step back.

When she fully stood the light filtering from one of the highest windows illuminated her face, and she scowled at the six men.

“Holy fuck.” The pretty one said out loud when he took a look at her face. “Holy fuck. Please tell me everyone is thinking what I am thinking.”

“Shut up, Fen.” The one in black grunted, stepping closer to Fen. Lin then realized that their faces were near identical, even though he looked like the dark side of his brother’s fair coin.

Twins then.

“Look at her face.” He was gaping. Why the hell was he gaping?

“Why the hell are you gaping?” She said before she could consider the words. She almost flinched at her own tone— being rude wouldn’t help her at all right now. But she had already spoken with confidence, so now she must continue with the facade. “And who the hell are you?”

“You’re not really in the position of asking questions right now, lady.” His twin answered before Fen could open his mouth.

“You’re not really in the position of telling me how to act, sir.” Oh she was screwed. She was so, so screwed.

The six men surveyed her, their eyes scanning her head to toe. She felt the urge to shift on her feet, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction even though she had a feeling that they all knew how her heart was pounding inside her chest.

The pretty one, Fen, decided that she passed whatever inspection because he decided to answer her earlier question despite the looks he was receiving from the other five. “I’m Fenrys. Lovely meeting you.”

Her eyes narrowed and she took another step back. Fenrys’s wolflike smile only grew wider. “And the others?” She jerked her chin to the other five, still faking confidence. She needed to run and she needed to do it before they decided they didn’t want to toy with her anymore but she knew that without another distraction, she wouldn’t run five steps before they caught her.

Surprisingly, the golden man in brown answered her question too. “Gavriel, lady.” His voice was chill and gentle, and some of her nerves calmed further. Maybe he would convince his friends to kill her quickly as a mercy. He looked at the other four men who remained silent and sighed. His next words, however, caught her by surprise. “We are very sorry for scaring you and your dog. We didn’t expect anyone else to be in the castle.”

A blink was all the surprise she showed.

Maybe they wouldn’t kill her. She almost choked in relief.

Talking to him seemed safer than the others, so she nodded. “I wasn’t planning on coming in, but the dog ran inside and I came after it.” If he was surprised she answer, he didn’t let it show. “I can leave now and I promise I will not tell anyone that I ever saw any of you.”

Fenrys laughed at that. “I have a better plan.”

At that, her entire body went visibly taunt.

“Fenrys.” The man with ebony hair in a pony growled. “Stop trying to scare the girl.”

Fenrys didn’t stop looking at her. “Am I scaring you, lady?”

“The only thing scaring me are your manners. Maybe I should have decked you across the face.” Lin raised her chin. She had survived ten years with men trying to taunt her day and night, and since his companions didn’t seem inclined to kill her, Fenrys was just an asshole trying to get a reaction. “Maybe strong enough to break your jaw. It would certainly save me from your blabbering.”

His twin’s mouth fell open before he howled. The man was almost doubling with laughter, and the other ones seemed to smile. At least the ones she could see the faces. Two of them remained unknown and it bothered her. A lot.

“The idiot laughing Connall,” the man with ebony hair said. “I’m Vaughan.”

She merely nodded to acknowledge she had heard him. Against her best judgment, her eyes went to the guy in the grey coat. Not the one she had hit, the one that seemed to be their leader, Lorcan. No, she was staring at the one who had been the one to reach her and grab her elbow. She could swear his eyes were fixated on hers as she turned to him. His attention unnerved her enough to make her reckless. “And the one watching me like a fucking buzzard would be?”

He seemed to tense, either because of her attention or her harsh tone. Probably the latter.

No one responded as if sensing the shift in the air.

“What? You grabbed me by the elbow and slammed me against the floor, I should at least know your name.”

“What’s yours?” Oh, his voice. Something inside of her jumped when hearing his voice, his accent making the words roll out of his tongue. She would have frowned at herself if she wasn’t completely focused on the man before her. Even the others seemed to be interested in their conversation.

Lin smiled. “I asked first.”

Even under the layers of his cloak, she could feel him smiling in return. “Connall was right. You’re not in the position to ask questions.”

She just stared blankly at him. Neither he or one of his companions seemed interested in breaking the silence or getting involved into their pissing match. Lin ached to remain silent, but she also knew it wouldn’t help her, at least not now.

Pick your battles wisely, Lysandra would say and then add upon seeing the look on her best friend’s face, Not all of them, Lin.

“Why don’t you at least let me see your face? After all you’ve seen mine.”

He considered. He started to slowly circle her, looking her from head to toe several times. She wanted to stay put, but there was something about him that was both alluring and infinitely annoying.

“Why are you circling me?”

He didn’t respond but, surprisingly, took a step into the light and took off his hood.

iknowyouiknowyouiknowyou

The pulsing in the back of her head came back with full strength. Her vision swayed, and she clenched her jaw in order to not pass out. When she felt slightly better, she analyzed his features. Fenrys might have been beautiful but this man was… Alluring. Handsome. Lin wanted to take a step forward and analyze his features more clearly. Wanted to see the exact shade of his green eyes, see if his hair was actually naturally silver. She wanted to clearly see every single harsh and sharp line of his face. If Fen was the fair warrior-prince, this man was the morally grey warrior that you never know if you can really trust.

He was staring at her, eyes narrowing. He took a step forward, head tilting to the side. For some reason, he seemed somewhat confused.

Maybe it was his confusion that made her say, “My name is Lin.”

He nodded, almost disappointed. “Rowan.”

“You look like the old royals.” Fenrys blurted out, making Lin’s attention snap back to him.

“Fenrys.” Vaughan and Rowan grunted at him.

“What? She does. Look at the hair and face shape. Even her eyes look like theirs.” He walked up to her and she tensed, not daring to run with him so close. He bent down, staring right into her face. She really wanted to punch him to see what he would do. “She’ll be just perfect.”

His twin brother and Gavriel groaned.

“Perfect for what?” She snapped.

“To pretend to be the lost princess, of course.”

She gawping at him, she knew. She continued until she felt laughter bubbling up her chest and let out the most dramatic cackle she could manage. Despite being alone in the world, being constantly worried about Lysandra, about money and her plans, Lin couldn’t stop laughing at what the man had suggested. She was almost doubling over, and the dog in her arms jumped to the floor. Lin knew she shouldn’t laugh at the face of six men who could very well kill her, but it was just too damn funny.

“Pretend to be what?” She said, trying to stop laughing. Fenrys scowled at her and the others watched the scene or humorously or bored. “Isn’t this the infraction of about twenty laws, one of them being treason. Which would result in the gallows?”

When he didn’t answer, she let out another chuckle. “I have a neck way too pretty to be tied in a rope, boyo. And there is the fact that I don’t know any of you, much less trust any of you. Find another idiot.”

“You wouldn’t go to the gallows.” Vaughan said, and she was shocked that some of them agreed with Fenrys. Her eyes went to Rowan, but he was just watching everything with a blank expression. Vaughan continued, “People do it all the time. You would study everything about them, about their kingdom, go to the royal family, say you are the lost princess and they decide whether or not you’re lying. Worst case scenario, they kick you to the curb.”

“And the new queen?” Why the fuck was she even entertaining the idea? She didn’t know any of these men, and she already had a mission of her own. Lysandra couldn’t wait while she pretended to be a princess.

“She wouldn’t know.” Connall smiled viciously.

“Fuck no. I have better things to do.” She said, taking a step towards the wood panel she had come from. Despite their sizes and mean demeanors, Lin now doubted they would kill her. “Places to be, people to see. Find. Another. Idiot.”

“Are ‘better things’ sitting on the rooftop of a shabby house and drink vodka?” Fenrys called after her, and her head whipped back. Not to Fenrys, no, but to Rowan. The silver flash earlier… “You.”

He gave her a feral smile.

“You followed me here.” Lin said incredulously. “Didn’t expect anyone in the castle my ass. What the hell is wrong with the six of you?”

“We need a princess.” Vaughan said simply.

“Well I’m not one so leave me alone.” She grunted and turned around again to leave. These people must have been complete lunatics if they honestly had followed her here just to make her accept pretending to be the lost princess. The lost princess that everyone knew was dead. Her coat and shoes had been found by the riverbank in the dead of the winter and no one, especially an eight year old, would survive the Florine during December. Why the Galathynius still accepted people claiming to be Aelin was beyond her.

“We would pay you.” Connall called after her and although she didn’t stop, she started walking just a little bit slower.

You do need money, you know?

Lin was going to start calling the annoying voice in her head Stupid Sense and maybe light a few candles to ask for good, old common sense.

She could get the money somewhere else. They would probably only pay her if she was accepted as the princess, and Lysandra couldn’t wait that long.

“And for your passage to Banjali.” Gavriel added.

That made her stop.

“There’s no train to Banjali. The Adarlanian roads are closed in the southern borders.” She replied quietly, still not turning around. A plan was forming in her head, but she didn’t know if the results would outweigh the dangers.

If she accepted their offer, they could pay for her train ticket to Inish. If the Adarlanian borders were closed, the only way to get to Eyllwe was through the Western Wastes. If she said her condition was to go through a route that had Inish in its way, she could be there in little over a month. But then there was the big problem: she didn’t know these men. They could be the worst kind of scum for all she knew, and traveling with all six of them would require her to be always paying attention, minding her surroundings. She would constantly need to have an escape plan. She did know how to fight, and against one of them she might even had stood a chance but all six? She would be dead before she could even draw her knife. No, with them the wisest would be to run.

Maybe that was what she was going to do once they got to Inish. She would grab Lysandra and they would sneak to the Red Desert in a boat, save some money while in Xandria and then go to the Southern Continent. During the time until Inish, she could pretend she intended in faking being princess to the old royals. The perfect plan but that could go wrong in so many ways.

“There are several routes through the Western Wastes.” Gavriel answered her earlier statement.

Fucking bingo.

She slowly turned around to look at them again. If she was going to accept this, she would need to face the risks daily. Being on her guard all the time was exhaustive and Lin really thought she was past that now that she had left the orphanage. But she also knew that it would take months for her to get all the money she needed in Orynth, and for Lysandra she would risk her life.

“I would have… conditions.”

Fenrys smiled like a wolf.

“No shared rooms. I get to keep my weapons. When we are not studying the Galathynius, neither of you speak to me because we are not friends. Or even colleagues. And, the most important, I pick the train and the route.”She crossed her arms and would have taken a more dominant stance if there wasn’t a dog sitting on her feet. “Oh, and the dog comes.”

“You got it, lady.” Fenrys said immediately.

“No, she fucking doesn’t.” Lorcan spoke for the first time since when he scared her. His voice was just as creepy. When he looked at her, she refrained from giving him a scolding glare. “Stay put. We will discuss your… conditions.” And with that the immediately formed a tight circle and spoke in hushed voices.

She rolled her eyes and knelt to take a look at the dog. Now that she wasn’t running after it or away from the group a few meters away, Lin could realize that the dog���s pelt wasn’t that dark of a golden blond as she had imagined, it was just extremely dirty. The paw had some dried blood, and as well as other spots in the pup’s body. One quick check and… yes, female. She was a lovely thing, no more than six months old and despite the dried blood and dirty, she looked pretty decent. And she also couldn’t be badly hurt considering how fast she could run.

“You and I are going on a funny field trip, Fleetfoot.” Despite her nerves, Lin smiled.

—————————————————

“Is there really anything to debate? That girl could be an Ashryver if we only considered her looks.” Fenrys whispered. 

“That girl has the manners of a demon.” Rowan replied, leaving his opinion clear in this expression. She didn’t want to do this, much less travel more than a month with that girl. 

She somehow got under his skin way too easily. It was like a more witty and smart version of Fenrys. Terrible

“Not the manners, clearly, but that can be adjusted. Again, she looks like an Ashryver.”

“And have you ever seen an Ashryver to know that?” Rowan’s voice came harsher than he intended, but his temper was slipping. He was the only one completely against this stupidity, his brothers seemed to be way too interested in the money that they could get to think clearly.

“Have you?” Fenrys snapped back, and when Rowan didn’t reply, he just went on. Fen was definitely the most excited about this. Earlier, when they were at the cathedral, he was looking outside of the window when he literally squeaked. Everyone knew of the Galathynius that had survived and now lived in Banjali with the Eyllwen royal family and how they sometimes accepted visits of people claiming to be Aelin. None ever actually was Aelin, and Fen thought that they should try their luck. Find a girl who looked like the dead princess, teach her, convince the Galathynius she was Aelin and then get fucking rich by blackmailing the poor girl.

All of them went to the window to look at the girl drinking her ass off on a roof and even Rowan had to admit that she looked like an Ashryver from afar. He didn’t even know she had also seen him until minutes ago when she looked back at him with enough wrath to make him want to take a step back.

The girl was like fucking wildfire, cursing like a sailor, hitting people with vodka bottles and inserting sarcasm in every single sentence.

“Her demands also are acceptable and expected.” Vaughan sided with Fenrys. He had been pissed earlier because he insisted that there were better ways to approach her. Connall said that it was better to have the element of surprise. Rowan just wanted to hit both of them. “She’s a girl traveling with six men, of course she wants weapons and privacy. And after you guys decided to so delicately approach her, it was obvious she wouldn’t be inclined to sit with us during afternoon tea and make friendship bracelets.”

“I didn’t know we had afternoon tea.”

“Connall, for the love of the gods, be quiet.” Gavriel said, giving one of the twins a slap on the back of his head.

As they kept bickering, Rowan let his gaze fall upon the girl. Lin.

Even though he never revealed to any of his friends, Rowan had seen an Ashryver up close. Two actually. A boy around his age at the time who would sneak off the castle to play with the other street boys and a younger girl who looked like his carbon copy. The boy he had seen far more than the girl, being friends with him for a while. Before Rowan could ever fully befriend the girl too, everything had gone to shit.

He still remembered the day when he woke up in a crappy orphanage and everyone was talking about how Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was dead. The king, Orlon, had died in the attack to the castle but Aelin had disappeared. He remembered the pain in his chest in imagining Aedion, his friend and her cousin, discovering he had lost her. He remembered his own pain in imagining the girl he had seen twice but had been kind to him both times, and how he would never befriend her too.

Lin did look like Aelin. If she had survived, the two girls would probably look very much alike. Sharp jawlines, high cheekbones and a small nose, Lin looked as royal as the new queen sitting on the throne. Even if he and Fenrys were right and her manners were a complete disgrace.

A disgrace because she wasn’t a royal. She wasn’t Aelin.  

Suddenly, Rowan was pissed and the sight of her only worsened it. It was cruel to go to the Galathynius and present an impostor as their daughter. It was insensitive as fuck for them to play with people like that only for money, and this girl was so quick to accept that it made his stomach turn.

The first sight of her had made his stomach turn too.

“Why does she want to choose the route, though?” Lorcan finally said something, his voice cold. Rowan couldn’t read his face right now, but he knew Lorcan enough to know that he was raging inside because the girl had decked him.

It had been so unexpected that Rowan just stood there blinking.

“Hey, firedrake,” Fenrys said loudly, and Lin’s head snapped up from the dog she was petting. Her eyes narrowed, her impatience and dislike of them simmering off of her. “Why you want to choose the route?”

Rowan held his sigh but Gavriel didn’t.

“Firedrake?” Was all she replied.

“Yeah, every time you opened your mouth was like spewing fire, so what better nickname than a firedrake?” Fenrys smiled and Rowan was sure that if it wasn’t for the dog licking her fingers, she would have attacked him.

“Fuck you. And I want to choose the route because I didn’t lie earlier.”

They just started at her blankly until she smiled, shrugging.

“I have places to be and people to see, wolfie.”

Fen actually laughed and Connall and Vaughan snorted. Gavriel merely smiled but, as Rowan, Lorcan’s face was serious.

Rowan really thought that he would put an end to this. Side with him that this was stupid and that there was no way in hell this could would pass as Aelin.

When Lorcan opened his mouth, though, Rowan’s world fell.

“Welcome to the group, firedrake. Don’t do anything to make me kill you in your sleep.”

The girl had balls, Rowan had to admit, as she smiled sarcastically and almost in a scary way at Lorcan as if to say Likewise.

Tags:

@morganofthewildfire​ @alyx801​ @ladywitchling​ @westofmoon​ @rolltide7​ @queen-of-glass​ @alifletcher2012​ @rattlethestarsdarling​ @rowanisahunk​ @bilkul-sharam-nahi-aati​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @chemicha​

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Congrats on 300! That's really amazing! Well done! Not surprised though, because your writing is super amazing! I especially love your undercover AU for ToG! My prompt is: "Really? Are you sure?" for Rowaelin, or alternatively another ToG ship, please?

I went with Rowaelin because, I’m trash for them. I’ve accepted that. Also thank you so, so much, I’m glad you like it. I really hope I did this prompt justice for you <3 Using my Undercover taglist here too.

---------

Rowan’s day had been rough, to say the least. It was also a Monday so, it was just a given, really.

First off, Aelin had been sick for, well, he didn’t know how many mornings in a row it was now, he’d lost count. He hated not being able to help her when she was sick; not knowing what to do, but she kept telling him she was fine. Clearly she wasn’t fine or he wouldn’t be holding her hair back every morning.  Aelin had promised him today before he’d left for work that she’d get it checked out, just to be sure. He had wanted to stay home, to go with her, to be there for her just in case it was something bad. His wonderful wife had just told him he was an overbearing buzzard and ‘to got the fuck to work’. There was no arguing with her, well he could try but, there would be no winning. And so he had relented, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead and telling her he loved her and dashing out the door before he was late.

And then he’d gotten to work.

He and Lorcan owned a Private Investigator firm, mainly specialising in missing persons cases. They usually found odd trails that the police couldn’t and if it was something solid, they passed on the information. Sometimes they were lucky and other times, not so much. Fenrys and Connall were in the building when he walked in and Rowan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He had a new assistant, she was slim, tall, blonde and pretty he guessed. To be quite honest, ever since Aelin had walked into his life, other women weren’t even noticeable. He only saw her, only ever thought of her.  Every time he hired someone new, the twins were over at the firm in an instant, fighting to win them over. Unless it was one of the times Rowan’s assistant was a male, then it was an easy win for Connall.

“Can I help you two imbeciles, or are you just here to fawn over the latest recruit. If that’s the case, which I know it is, then please leave. Or, better yet, go up a floor and bother Lorcan.”

Fenrys simply laughed and shook his head, his hair swinging with the motion from where he’d tied it back, “But the ladies love me Ro, I mean, what’s not to love?”

Connall snorted, and then smirked when his brother turned to glare at him. “I’m the better looking twin Fen, we all know it.”

He was not about to deal with a fucking pissing match today. He sighed, deciding to get rid of them as quickly as possible, hoping it would give him the peace and quiet he needed to actually work. “Connall, Lorcan actually has someone new up there with him too.”

“Ooo, really?” The smug bastard perked up at that and Fenrys looked at him with suspicion, most likely knowing where this was going. “Yeah. Dark haired, dark eyes, glasses and he’s shorter than you. Very much your type. You didn’t see him the other week because he hides behind the filing cabinets when you come in, blushing like a schoolgirl.”

As suspected, Con moved like lightning, not even bothering to wait for an elevator and taking the stairs. He made a beeline for his office, pushing the door open as fast as he could, but just as he was closing it, a foot slipped into the little gap and he wanted nothing more than to murder Fenrys just then.

“Come on Rowan, you just set my brother up, you could at least help me out too. I thought I was your favourite?” He shoved himself through the door, walking over to sit in front of Rowan’s desk and kicking his feet up. Not that it lasted, especially when he was pushed out of the chair and onto the floor. Rowan laughed as the golden haired man rubbed his ass, staring up at him with a pout.

“You’ll do well to remember, boyo, that without me, you’d have never pushed yourself to even talk to a girl. Also my new assistant is very much off of the market.”

He sat down in his newly vacated chair and pulled out his laptop. His newest case was a woman who’d come in about two weeks ago, saying her husband had been kidnapped. She was in hysterics as she’d told him the story, saying the police wouldn’t help, and so Rowan had said he’d do what he could. He went over everything the woman had given him and then followed on from there. Phone numbers, addresses and different picture sightings. Turned out that her husband had not in fact been kidnapped but had run off with another, much younger woman. He’d known for a few days now and was currently trying to figure out how to tell his client in the easiest way possible.

Rowan was broken from his thoughts when a certain pest spoke from across the room. For fucks sake, why hadn’t he left yet?

“How’s my best bud doing Rowan?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, now leave.”

“Har har. Ace knows I’d choose her over you, she’s so much more fun, hence why we’re besties.”

Rowan flipped him off, still not looking up from his laptop screen as he replied, “Aelin is sick.”

He flinched when Fen shouted, gripping onto the side of his desk from the sudden outburst. “What do you mean she’s sick? She’s never sick!”

“Keep your fucking voice down, fucking Christ. She keeps throwing up in the mornings but I keep getting told that she’s ‘fine’. Clearly, she is not fine.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rowan watched his face turn from worried confusion into some sedated happy smile. What the fuck did he mean ‘oh’?

“What do you mean ‘Oh’? I have no idea what’s wrong with her so you possibly can’t, and stop smiling. Aelin’s sickness is not something to smile about.”

His idiot friend tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling laugh and Rowan wanted nothing more than to throttle him. When he finally stopped and met Rowan’s gaze again, he seemed to realise that Rowan still hadn’t understood what was so funny. “Wait. You really don’t get it do you? How can you-”

The sound of Rowan’s phone ringing cut the man off and he was pissed off at the interruption, until he saw that it was Aelin calling him. His wife never called when he was at work, not unless he’d asked her to when he had a few minutes spare. He was pressing the answer button within seconds, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Aelin sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I just need you to come home.”

If nothing was wrong then why did she need him to come back? It had only been a few hours since he’d left the house.

“Alright, I’m coming. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“Yes Buzzard, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’d packed up as fast as he could, telling Fenrys that they’d talk later and to go and check that his twin wasn’t fucking the newbie in one of the bathrooms.

That was how he’d ended up here, bursting through the door of their newly purchased home. It was big of course, Aelin would have nothing less, but the interior was simple and modern. Quite tame for his very extravagant wife.

“Aelin, baby, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He ran through the halls, not even taking his shoes off which he would most certainly get reprimanded for later, and spotted his wife sitting at the bar eating a plate of pickles with a dip that looked like...peanut butter?

“You’re sick, why on earth are you eating that? Let’s get you back to bed.” His wife groaned and rolled her eyes, standing from her stool to walk over and grab a brown paper bag from the counter. She took slow steps towards him while nibbling on her lower lip, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“I have a present for you.” Rowan stared at the brown bag in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he tentatively took it from her hands. He didn’t open it yet, though he desperately wanted to.

“You made me come home because you wanted to give me a present? Couldn’t this have waited until later.” She shook her head, a giddy expression on her face.

“No, it couldn’t. Now come on, open it.”

He gave an exasperated sigh, almost forgetting he’d married a woman who had a talent for theatrics.  When he opened the bag, it had some sort of fabric inside of it, which confused him even more. Reaching in, he pulled it out carefully, before dropping the bag and unfolding it. It was  a baby vest and on it were the words ‘World’s Greatest Daddy’ with a sort of blurry black and white image printed onto the fabric just below. Holy fucking gods.

“Fireheart...really? Are you sure?” When he looked back at her, her eyes were lined with silver, and she nodded at him. He let out a shocked laugh before looking at the picture on the vest more closely. Now that he was concentrating, he could see the outline of a tiny foot and then a tiny head. No not just-

“Is that two heads? Two babies. We’re having twins?” Aelin let the tears flow freely now and nodded again and he laughed, scooping her up in his arms and spinning, relishing the sound of her delighted giggles. When Rowan set her back onto her feet, he dropped to his knees, leaving his face directly in line with her stomach. Lifting her top and leaning forward, he left a few gentle kisses to the skin before pressing his forehead there and whispering, “Hi babies, I’m your daddy. I want you to know that your mommy and I love you very much and that you are the most precious things in the world. I can’t wait to meet you, little ones.”

Aelin’s fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged lightly until he tilted to look up at her and realisation dawned on him then. “This is why you’ve been throwing up in the mornings.”

“Yes genius, I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I had that scan about two weeks ago, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t figure it out because I was waiting for the vest to be printed. Luckily I didn’t marry you for your brains.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, it was making his cheeks hurt but fuck did it feel good. He took hold of his wife’s wrist, bringing her hand forward to kiss her palm and sighing contentedly.

“I love you, Fireheart, to whatever end.”

“To whatever end, Buzzard.”

--------

I really hoped you liked it and honestly, I sort of like this AU I’ve created, so feel free to send some other prompts set in this universe if you like!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up  @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr  @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Hey! 1,5,8,15,20 for the uncommon OC ask please! 😊

Why hello! Thanks for stopping by! 😊😊

Are you ready for a ramble? Because I'm ready for a ramble! >83 I'm actually going to do this for my Hawke, Rylen! *gasps* Not Fane, you say? Oh, trust me. Rylen's a treat in his own way. Eheh~

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Rylen is a terrible, terrible busybody. The man cannot sit still to save his life. It's more or less a subconscious fear of being perceived as lazy or not trying to better himself or his family. A lot of the unintentional guilt that Leandra put on him had adverse side effects to where this is Rylen's constant frame of mind. He literally reiterates, "I need to go do something. Check on Anders? Oh wait. Already did that. Should I see if Varric has any new jobs? I don't really need the gold, but..I'll check anyways. Maybe I'll take the mabari out while I'm at it. Don't want Mother getting upset if he pisses on the marble again. Oh! Fen might be around, too! I'll stop by! Then.." He goes around and around in circles, so from dawn til dusk, Rylen is go, go, go. He doesn't stop until Fenris or Varric make him stop, or he just collapses at the end of the day.

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Act 1 and Act 2 Rylen is more inclined to trusting most folk due to literally needing to, to make ends meet. Now, Act 3 Rylen is where this question comes into play. After Leandra died, Rylen...spiraled. Heavily. He saw himself as a failure, a poor son, and a lousy excuse for a man. It also shifted his views on magic and mages heavily to where any mage they came across, Rylen would hesitate when otherwise he would have helped them within a heartbeat. He realized he needed to be more aware, to be more cautious or the same thing could happen again to his found family. Anders' actions leading up to and including the explosion of the Chantry don't help this mindset. When Anders more or less questions Rylen's need for an explanation before the explosion, that's when their friendship sort of...dropped. Rylen realized Anders didn't trust him and in turn, he began to lose trust in Anders. So, the minute someone close to Rylen questions his motives, after all he's done for them and all they've been through, that's how easy it is to earn his mistrust.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Rylen was a little shit as a child. Not lying. He went out of his way to antagonize the priests and templars in Lothering's Chantry because:

One: He thought it was hilarious every time the Mother who rapped him with a cane because he was 'too wily', found lizards in her pillow or in the unlit braziers.

Two: While it drew attention towards their family, it was in an alternative way. He did it to push the attention onto himself, a misbehaving, mischief child, and away from Bethany.

Despite this, both Malcolm and Leandra lectured him and told him there were other ways he could protect the family. Secretly, however, after Leandra would walk away, Malcolm would turn to Rylen and whisper with a smirk, 'Next time put water on the coals. Make steam to sweat the templars out.' So, it was both to stop and to start doing this trick of his more.

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Rylen blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. His mouth is a fountain of nonsense that has no filter until he hears himself utter the words. By then, it's obviously too late and he just has to smile like he planned it! Literally upon meeting Isabela, he goes, with finger guns:

"How you managed to do all that without pants is amazing! You should teach me how to do that with my daggers! ...With pants, I mean. Uhhh... I fucked that up, didn't I? I did. I did.."

Internally, he's screaming at himself. Screaming, I tell you. Thankfully, Izzy hits it off with Rylen from the get go, and his boundary-less words don't even phase her. If anything, it helps her relax since she doesn't have to worry about Rylen freaking out when she does her harmless flirting.

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Do as the Fereldans do, equivocate with mabari! Not joking. Rylen would literally describe it like how a mabari feels when its imprinted and then bonded.

Loyalty, deepest devotion, and a strong sense to protect even at the cost of your own well being. That's what platonic or familial love is to him. To cast aside all to make sure your family is safe and whole. Especially if they can't defend themselves due to age or experience, or are in a state where they can't fend for themselves, even though they typically could.

Obviously, these aspects could roll over into romantic love, but Rylen sees romance as more of a relationship of mutual respect and unyielding trust in the other - whether it be through faithfulness or believing, knowing the other can take care of themselves in a fight. He would equivocate romantic love as more of when a mabari has tightly bonded with their master. There's a link, a connection, an understanding that sometimes friends or family don't necessarily see or wish to see due to insecurities or not wishing to be a bother.

So, platonic and familial love to Rylen is more when a mabari first imprints. Careful, cautious, still loving, but unaware of specific boundaries. While a romantic connection is when that choice has been tested through trials and tribulations. Those trials yield the fruits of trust, respect, pride in each other, and knowing the other has your back, and able to communicate without fear of boundaries, but knowing and admitting when you have. Of course, this depends solely on the relationship Rylen has with each person he's close to.

***

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 I always enjoy them, and I'll try to make a habit of asking all you lovely people questions, too! Reciprocation is key!

[katieurah]

Guys, I can’t get Elorcan as Zoommates outta my head. So I write it. And it’s a mess. But here I am posting anyways. Yikes.

Forgive my terrible attempts at writing out sounds of a coffee grinder. I hear one every morning, but still..... 

Also, still titleless.

..........................................................

Whiiirrrrrrr. Sccrrrrr. Whiiiiiirrrrr.

Lorcan glared with bleary eyes at his coffee grinder struggling to keep up with the too-large scoop he’d tossed in that morning. He opened the latch and poured the grounds out into the pour over basket and set it to steep.

Extra butter went on his toast that morning, fried eggs instead of a healthy protein shake, and regular bacon - not turkey baked in the oven. Oh, no, not today, he’d thought as he laid the strips in the cast iron pan. He needed all the grease, comfort, and caffeine life could afford him for his day.

Seven months. Seven months, one week, and four days to be exact. His goddaughter’s dedication was perfect. The day was perfect. Until.

He finished his coffee, plated his breakfast, and walked to the office to turn on his system. And brood. Apparently he was good at that.

Elide. She was the other perfect thing about that day. But, apparently he was as self-absorbed as she claimed. How did he not know about that break-up? He and Elide were friends. They had a connection. A spark. Or so he thought. 

As Rowan’s oldest friend and former military buddy, he’d always been around. He knew Elide from the start of Rowan and Aelin’s relationship. Aelin’s cousin was more like a sister and was always there. They talked. They chatted about life. He thought they were friends. Then one day, friends didn’t seem like enough. He didn’t like that she went home earlier than everyone else and he couldn’t seem to talk to her. He had tried to compose about a million different texts to her, but nothing seemed right. He followed her Instagram and Facebook, but messaging her there felt like he’d just be sliding into her DMs, which made Lorcan’s skin crawl.

But, how had he not known about the breakup? How had he not known there was someone to break up with? She never said a word. Had she? He speared his fork through an egg and watched the clock. His computer system was up and running, but he realized after Elide’s haste and hatred in logging off yesterday, they never specified times for working today. He really thought 7:00 was too early to be video calling her. Mornings were not her thing. She’d probably shoot a virus through to his system. And if anyone could get one in his through his security protocols and firewalls, it was her. 

He ran through a few of his other projects while waiting, sipping his coffee and watching the clock. As 8:30 rolled around, he logged into the chat portal to ask what time they should start. As he was typing the first words, the screen lit up with a message:

>> Okay, Salvaterre. What time are we doing this?

He smirked at the sass in those eight words.

<< Whenever you want, Lochan. I’m all set up.

>> Gimme 5.

He chuckled as he imagined her getting her area cleaned off, checking her hair, and taking deep breaths before logging on. 

The 3-tone alert for a video chat came through and Lorcan switched the camera and mic on. Here we go.

…

Elide scrambled to get her hair pulled into a semi-decent bun on her head. She was at least wearing a nicer sweater this morning, even if she was still rocking glasses and no-makeup. Deeming her work area decent enough to be seen on camera, she grabbed her iced coffee and pressed the call button. 

Deep breaths. Deep. Breaths. 

Lorcan Salvaterre was on this planet to torment her, she was sure of it. They’d been… acquaintances? Friends? Something? Ever since Aelin and Rowan had started dating, Elide and Lorcan were along for the ride. They had a lot in common. It was so easy to talk to him. They had fun together. He made her laugh. She soon wondered how easy it would be to date. To hold hands, to kiss, to… everything. But he’d never seemed interested in more than whatever it was they’d been, so she went on dates. She went out with other guys and even a few second dates. Then a real relationship. For a few months anyways. She was sure she’d told him about it. 

Anyways, who asks someone else out while they’re crying from a break up? And while they’re buzzed? Ridiculous.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Nice of you to join me,” Lorcan crooned, eyebrow raised, small smile on his face. She was not a morning person. Never had been. And he knew it.

“Can we not? I haven’t even finished my coffee yet and it’s too early for your….your… it’s just too early…” She groaned at not even being able to formulate snark this early.

“What you’re drinking - that’s not coffee. It’s cream and sugar pretending to be all grown up.”

“Oh, yes, because your pretentious single-sourced pour-over makes you an expert,” Elide sniped back. Lorcan always drank the strongest, blackest coffee and it was always some single-origin that he had various methods for brewing. 

It would be too easy to fall into their banter. Too easy to believe he wasn’t an asshole. She needed some distance between them before it got too comfortable.

“So, I’ve been asked to make sure support services on the public side and the internal side secure and protect privacy rights. Here’s how we’re currently trying to keep that up,” Elide said as she launched into discussing protocols, servers, firewalls, identity management systems, and anything else they thought was necessary.

Lorcan was all business, professional to a fault, and courteous as they shared information. He asked great questions and traded scenarios with her. They worked for several hours getting a feel for what each department offered and wanted.

At noon, Elide’s stomach rumbled, drawing a chuckle from Lorcan.

“Geeze, El, hiding a gremlin over there? Go eat. We can pick up after one, yeah?”

She scowled back at him. Teasing her and using a nickname? Nope. “Sure, Salvaterre,” she said shortly, trying to put distance back between them. She almost felt guilty when she thought he looked startled, but his face went back to it’s neutral, calm, emotionless expression. She logged off the video chat and rubbed her hands over her face. How was this ever going to work?

…

As the chat window went dark, Lorcan sighed through his nose. He tried. He still had no idea why her ire with him went that deep. 

Lorcan strolled to his kitchen to get his protein shake ready. Before he could start the blender, his phone chimed. He swiped at the screen to read the messages.

Young Pup: So, old man, how’s the “partnership” going?

Lorcan sighed again. Fenrys somehow knew he and Elide were working together. This couldn’t be good.

Sarge: Fine.

He watched the three dots bounce and disappear a few times. 

Young Pup: Elide’s not got your balls in a twist yet?

Hawkeye has been added to the chat.

Lorcan groaned. Fen adding Rowan wasn’t a good sign either.

Young Pup: Ro, do we need to have an intervention with El? Two days working with the old man here and yet he’s alive and responding to our messages. Somethings wrong!

Hawkeye: Fen, knock it off. 

Hawkeye: El’s a professional. I give it a week before we need to worry about her.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and didn’t even worry about checking Fenrys’ reply and put the phone on vibrate. He finished making his shake and walked to the living room. As he sat on the couch, his phone buzzed for a phone call. Glancing at the screen, Lorcan saw Rowan’s name at the top of the screen. He sighed and answered. 

“I’m playing nice, I promise.”

Rowan laughed softly on the other end. “I bet. Look, Fen found out that you needed to work with their support services department and put two and two together about Elide. Aelin and I knew that Elide’s boss was going to ask you two to work together…” He trailed off, as if he didn’t know how to finish that thought.

“Just because we haven’t seen each other or spoken in months doesn’t mean I can’t do my job,” Lorcan said, a bite to his words.

“Hey, man, I know you can. It’s not that...It’s… Look, A is just worried. You two are Ellie’s godparents and you’re at odds right now. And I’m a little worried, too, about you both. You’ll let me know if things get worse, right?”

“Yeah, man, of course.”

“Good. And-” Rowan suddenly swore. “I gotta go. Ellie’s crying and A’s in the shower. Call me later and we’ll talk, yeah?”

“Sure.” Lorcan hung up. He looked at the time, downed his shake, and went back to his computers. Security systems and technology, those things he knew. People? Women? Foreign languages to him. He still couldn’t figure out why Elide was so pissed with him. Couldn’t figure out why Rowan and Aelin thought things would get worse. And now it was affecting his job.

It was going to be a long project.

[svpernatvralis]

FENISHA LAVELLE is a 105 year old cis female vampire. people say they have a striking resemblance to camila mendes. they work as a dancer at delirium nightclub and are part of the conclave ( vampire capo ). people say they’re really ambitious, dauntless, & vehement, but unfortunately also calculating, guileful, & impetuous. why are they in invictus? well, they crave power.

henlo it me again! i hope u guys aren’t sick of me yet bc here’s my final ( for now, at least ) bb! say hello to my boss-ass bish gal fen! she’s sassy, classy and a lil badassy. she’s a rather feisty, fiery, ball of rage and anger who cba with ur bullshit tbh n she’ll tell u this too if u piss her off enough! she’s lowkey cutthroat and always out for number one, aka: herself. but, i mean, she does have some redeeming qualities and her hair is bomb af so that makes up for it all really, doesn’t it? basically that meme: ‘ she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll punch you in the face. ’

fundamentals.

name. fenisha isolde lavelle.

age. 105, but appears around 23.

d.o.b. january 27th.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

orientation. bisexual.

affiliation. the conclave.

rank. vampire capo.

job. dancer at delirium nightclub.

connections.

adoptive mother. monica lavelle. †

adoptive father. edward lavelle. †

adoptive siblings. lola, erik, & alec lavelle. †

significant other. n/a.

child/ren. n/a.

pet/s. n/a.

proficiencies.

spoken languages. english, & spanish.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, & caustic.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, & poised.

strengths. great analyst, abstract thinker, imaginative, original, enthusiastic, open-minded, objective, honest, & straightforward.

weaknesses. very private, withdrawn, insensitive, absent-minded, condescending, loathes rules and guidelines, & second guesses herself.

appearance.

eye colour. brown.

hair colour. dark brown.

height. five feet, two inches.

weight. 54 kg.

miscellaneous.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. water.

house. ravenclaw.

meyers briggs type. intp-t.

alignment. chaotic neutral.

enneagram. type three.

temperament. choleric.

intelligence type. intra-personal.

the basics.

FENISHA ISOLDE LAVELLE     —     one hundred and five, vampire, dancer at delirium nightclub, + vampire capo for the conclave !

possible triggers   :   child abandonment, foster system, adoption, cancer, death, huntington’s disease, substance abuse, alcohol, violence, gore, blood, murder.

tl;dr.     ok so for this gal, let's all give a big, warm welcome to sadness ( no, i was in no way at all inspired by salem from sabrina for that line ) bc boy oh boy, her life has been constant grief and pain, tbh. strap in for the bumpy ride, i'll give u cookies for compensation. OK SO, fenisha was abandoned as a baby, never did—and still doesn't—know her biological parents and she doesn't want to either, tbh. she bounced around from foster home to foster home until she was adopted by the lavelle family when she was eight. it was great! they were lovely people who made her feel at home. she loved them, they loved her back. in time, the older she grew, she began to resent the fact that her real parents weren't in the picture; believing she was always gonna be unloved and unwanted even tho the lavelle family did everything they could to make her feel the opposite. anywho, she fell in with the wrong crowd until she was sent off to an all-girls boarding school where she learned how to mellow herself a tad. but, here comes sadness again! at sixteen, her youngest adoptive sister passed away from cancer which made fenisha withdraw before, finally, acting out again. pressing the self-destruct button is this gal's speciality. did the pain stop? NOPE bc a year later her adoptive father passed away from huntington's disease. this time, she tried to bury her sadness, repress it and move on. for the most part, it worked. but still, she found herself gravitating towards her vices—things and people she knew were no good for her. drink, drugs, people, you name it. quickly, she realised that these things were no longer any good at keeping her dark side at bay: she needed something more, something deeper. thus, she began going down the road of petty crimes—stealing cars, smashing windows, theft, setting fires both metaphorically and literally. due to this lifestyle, she wound up entangled with some real shady folk who did ... even shadier things. most specifically, she started dating a real jackass who was violent and truthfully, a horrible person, really. fast forward a year or so and things took a swift nosedive when her lowlife boyfriend’s hands were round her throat and not in the kinky way. while she’d clawed at him and tried to fight him off, she struggled against his weight and strength until, eventually, all she could recall was waking up with a searing headache: the lights and noises just too much to handle. it wasn’t until she’d lost control to overwhelming bloodlust that she realised the truth: her boyfriend had turned her into a vampire. naturally, at first, she was horrified and it took her a hella long time to adjust but once she had, she kind of relished in her new life. once she got a grip on her nature, she joined the conclave and climbed the ranks where she now rests as a capo. all in all, she kind of digs who she is and what she is: after everything she's been through, she loves herself. it's been a long and winding road but fenisha finally believes that she's settled in her life now even if she is an overachiever who invests way more time in her job than she should. oop. tho she still refuses to let people in, her abandonment issues terrifying her to the degree that she feels that anybody she'd ever let into her life would eventually leave her in the end. *insert sad face emoji here.*

random extras.

nicknames: fen, nish, nisha ... spawn of satan   >:-) 

she loves art in every form: paintings, sculptures, music, dance, people, etc. she loves the freedom that expressing herself through these mediums gives her.

she’s ... experimental. she’s experimented with just about everything: hairstyles, clothing, drink, drugs, people ...

can be hella calculating and vindictive so do not cross her.

quite power hungry tbh.

she does have a shot at redemption but she doesn’t want it lmao. 

she’s already been to hell so why bother trying to right her wrongs?

and boy, are her wrongs a century long list shkjsh.

high key is not above killing people who don’t do things her way.

doesn’t believe she’s capable of loving anyone.

she’s lowkey a perfectionist to the point of being ruthless, also cutthroat and egotistical.

if ya ain’t of use to her, then what the heck is ur purpose???

she can be ... aggressive sometimes and most definitely has anger issues.

dry sense of humour one million percent.she can drink any man under the table.

smol but fierce.

absolutely adores animals. 

much prefers them to humans.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her body.

a bit meddlesome and a troublemaker.

always up for a good time.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

is a tad theatrical.

really, she does what she wants to, when she wants to, without seeking the approval of others.