#i don't even know how to turn off reblogs i lied about hovering over the button

[chalkrub]

why did i think making biscuit seem like a sad puppy about to get shot would do anything but harm me. 50,000 notes is a good long life for a biscuit.........he needs to be at peace....i need to be at peace..........

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

[kaz11283]

Of Course I'm Here

Characters: Come on you know by now how this goes (Loki x you) (Team x you, platonic)

Warnings: None. And really if you ever see anything that I might need to able as a warning please let me know... I'm the person who forgets there are people out there that get offened by the word F*** if that is an exapmle of anything.

Summary: Mid battle and the avengers keep looking for an answer as to why the God of Lies hasnt showed up yet. Of course you have no idea but at least he proves them all wrong.

ANNOUNCEMENT TIME: hey guys Im back, I know it hasnt been long but I also know I havent been posting every single day like I was, i got into a weird little funk where I didnt want to do anything, I was just feeling completly drained, and I felt bad because I have my little and I didnt even want to play with her because I have just been so TIRED, but I'm feeling better. Work has been kicking my ass here lately and ive been working over 50 hours a week so ive literally been coming in, eatting / feeding the little, getting us ready for bed, and crashing as soon as she falls asleep. But im here now. I will probably be more active on weekends than during the week because I have more time to spend working on stuff but I will be posting also during the week just not daily. At least until after state comes. Thank you so much for the reblogs, likes, comments, follows, and messages please keep them coming! If you would like to be tagged please ask or message, and requests are open. Love you guys so much! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~

"Y/N, BACK UP I NEED BACK UP! EYES IN THE SKY!" Tony yelled from above, you and Clint stood back to back on a roof top shooting as many bad guys as you could. Clint took aim at another carrier, shooting at the engine causing the entire thing to blow up raining debris and hot metal around you.

"Damnit Clint! Farther away make sure they are farther away!" You yelled popping him on the head with an arrow before aiming it at the thing that was chasing Tony.

"Where is lover boy at? You.sent him the location right?" Nat asked into the com.

"Yes I sent him the location, no I dont know where hes at." You mocked.

"Did you send him the right location?" Sam asked.

"One time, one dam-"

"Language!" Steve chimed in causing everyone to groan. Gun shots where ringing all around you and you could here metal on metal paired with Hulk screams coming from another building over.

"Language." You mocked muting your com son that no one but Clint heard you. "I am a 26 year old woman, I think I'm old enough to cuss if I want." You drew back your bow and sent another arrow flying into another goon that had Nat trapped aginst a wall. She shot you a thumbs up before running off. You hit unmute on your com.

"Jesus, 26? Baby, you sure you don't need to be at a babysitter instead of on a building killing things?" He laughed.

"Dont worry Hawk, when we get done here I've already booked you a nice nursing home to be put into." You put your bow around you and stood on the edge of the building. "I need a better view." You looked round, the top of a taller building caught you eye. "There Hawk, we can cover a better radius from up there, get closer to the action."

"DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN THE GODS ARE GOING TO BE HERE? WE NEED MORE HELP WERE GETTING TIRED AND OUT NUMBERED!" Tony came over the coms screaming.

"How do we get up there? Or do I even wanna know?" Hawk came to examin where you were talking about.

"Im jumping, you cant tell me that someone wont catch me." You shrug.

"GODS WHERE ARE TH- Y/N DONT YOU DARE JUMP!" Tony stopped and hovered right were you was standing.

"Then take us over there. We need higher ground, we cant cover everyone from down here." You crossed your arms.

"Where are the gods at y/n?" He asked again

"I. Dont. Know. Jesus you guys act like I'm suppose to be there keeper!" A simultaneous you are came from everone through the com causing you to roll your eyes. "Hes gonna be here I swear it! Now take me to the building or I jump. 1.....2....-" Tony grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and flew you to the building.

God these things were everywhere and you were starting to run out of arrows. After shooting another ship and causing it to blow you heard what was unmistakably pounding on the roof top door leading to where you currently was at.

"I have some univited guests about to join my party. Anyone available for some assistance?" You yanked out the two emerald green and silver daggars that your boyfriend had given you not long after you had started dating after throwing your bow around you.

"Buy some time kid, I'm on ground level right now but I can try to get up there as fast as possible." Bucky called over the com.

"Buy some time? Ok. I can do this. I work better from afar but a little hand to hand never hurt anyone, just easier to get stabbed this way." The first of the things busted through the door running straight at you. You jerked out of the way missing his staff by just a few inches. Quickly turning you flipped the dagger like Loki had showed you and stabbed him in his side causing him to fall to the ground before the next one tried to impale you.

"I have two daggers and they have freaking staffs! Back up! WHERE THE HELL AR-" you were interupted by static in the air and a bright light. The bitfrost had just opened up leaving to gods standing in front of you and taking out the remainder ofnthe bad guys. "HES HERE! I TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WERE COMING AND THEY'RE HERE." You pulled two extra coms from you pocket and gave them to Thor and Loki.

"Always a pleasure to battle beside you Lady y/n." Thor smiled takkng the com and putting it in his ear before taking off again.

Loki sauntered over to you and put his arm around you waist, you put the com in his ear as he rolled his eyes. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

"You got a new outfit." You smiled at him. God the way he looked in his battle clothe always did something to you, the horned helment was a plus.

"You like it." He smirked down at you pulling you closer.

"Your wearing your horns to." You reached up and brushed a peice if hair behind his ear.

"STOP. STOP NOW. WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING AND ITS GROSS." Tony yelled causing you both to roll your eyes.

"Quick run down, bad guys everywhere, no end in sight, and I'm out of arrows pretty sure Hawk is too." Loki waved his hand over your quiver making more arrows appear.

"I see you had to use your daggers. I am sorry for not being here. Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked stepping away from you to examin you.

"Small cut on the side, nothing I havent dealt with before, Ill be fine. You go make sure Hawk is fully stocked up and help the others. I got a birds eye view of you right here." I leaned in kissing him one more time before smiling at him and pushing him away. He kissed his two finger before placimg them over his heart and you did the same, "always." You both said before he disappered.

You could hear Thor laughing at the chaos going on and Steve trying to direct the god of thunder on what to do. You had learned earlier to just let him do his own thing and he would be fine. Tony was still trying to micromanage everything when you heard Loki mumble something in an old language and his com cut out. You had figured it wouldnt have stayed on to long though but at least you had tried. It had calmed down up on your end so you decided to finally go back down to where Clint was at shooting an arrow with heavy duty rope you glided back down next to him to watch what was going on.

"Hello, earth to y/n." He snapped his fingers in front of your face. You had been to busy staring at Loki and that damn helmet. "I dont even understand why were friends." He rolled his eyes propping up on the ledge watching as the rest of the team secured the last of the bad guys.

"Because we both shoot arrows, because we are both the best in the team, or because we both know we are the best looking one on the team so we have to stick together." You laughed jumping up so you could sit on the ledge.

"The birds can come out of their nest now." Bucky called over the coms causing you both to sigh.

When you and Clint had reached the bottom you walked over to Thor theowing your arms around the big goof ball.

"You are amazing during battle as always." He beemed patting you on the shoulder.

"As always? Thor youve only fought with her twice." Steve said beside you.

"I had a week off. Went to Asguard, spent time with the boys. Someone had to keep them in line." You shrugged like it was no big deal.

"She was amazing!" Thor went on telling the story of the fight you had all gotten into.

"Mothers been asking about you by the way dear. Wants to know if you've decided to come stay for a while." Loki leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I think I'm leaning toward a yes. I can't stand being away from you, you had been gone forever this time." You reached for his hand as you both walked to the quinjet.

"I was making arrangements to have our room redone. I figured you would come with me." He gave you a knowing smirk as he reached up to take off his helmet.

"Leave the horns on. I have a suprise for you when we get home." You pulled his hand away from his head and smacked his butt.

"You are a little minx." He laughed chasing you into the jet while the rest of the team groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Even if you wasnt moving i would be kicking your ass out! I am so sick of the PDA between you two." Tony hollared after you.

"Leave them alone Tony, they are courting. Im just glad my brother is happy and not trying to stab me." Thor clapped Tony on the back.

~~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

[mrsrhys23]

I want to play a game...

Chapter one: I will survive

Word count: 3,533

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH , drowning, profanities and mention of blood.

A/N 1: I completely forgot I was writing this until the Sneak peak was reblogged a couple weeks ago.

A/N 2: I don’t own these characters/ the saw universe. Sorry ‘read more’ isn’t working.

Summary: They have to get through a series of agonising traps to earn their survival, but who will live and who will die? 

Permatag: @desireepow-1986 @cordoniaqueensworld

Series tags: @cordonianroyalty @texaskitten30 @imthequeenofcordonia (Just let me know if you’d like to be tagged/ removed).

The floor was cold and coarse, being one of the first things Riley noticed as she started to regain consciousness. She could hear screaming, a woman by the sounds of it and voices, who they belonged to not being clear at that moment in time. She opened her eyes; the room was dark with only some light peeking in through a tiny window, Her vision was still slightly disfigured, as she sat herself up, a massive headache hitting her.

“W-where? Where are we?” Riley muttered, as her vision turned back clear and she could see her friends, who all looked as equally distressed as she probably did. She pushed herself up to her feet, a wave of dizziness hitting her making her rely on the wall to keep herself from falling. Everything felt fuzzy, she couldn’t remember how she ended up there, how any of them did.

Madeline sat in the corner of the cold damp room with her knees to her chest, crying by the sounds of it and being thankfully quiet.

Olivia was busy pounding on the window but getting nowhere, the glass staying intact, the noise making Riley cringe from just how much worse it made her headache.

Drake was busy trying to calm down his girlfriend, Emily, who was hyperventilating. Maxwell paced, Hana stood crying and wringing her hands together.

“Guys?” Riley asked, but none of them seemed to hear her. “Guys?!” That caught all their attention and each of them turned to her. “Where are we?”

“How are we supposed to know?” Olivia snapped.

“We don’t know,” Drake said, “We all just woke up here and none of us can remember how we got here.”

“W-where’s Liam?”

“He’s not here,” Maxwell chimed in.

Suddenly all the lights came on, making all of them squint from the sudden brightness. Riley noticed a tape recorder hung from a piece of string and nail on the far wall when her eyes had adjusted. She staggered over to it, took it down and peeled off the note that said, ‘play me.’ She turned back to look at the group, her finger hovering over the button. Riley swallowed hard and pressed it.

All they heard immediately was static and then that voice, the voice they would never forget. “Greetings and welcome! I want to play a game…”

“What the hell?” Drake muttered.

“You’re probably all wondering why you’re here,” the deep, male voice Riley concluded, continued. All of them felt a wave of fear rush over each of them. They all exchanged a look of sheer panic. Yes, they'd taken down Anton Servus but...this felt different, more dangerous, evil even. “All of you have never worked for anything in your lives, it’s all been handed to you on a silver platter. Some of you have used others to climb further up the social ladder. Trampled over others to feel better about yourselves.”

“Maxwell, if this is you-” Drake started.

Maxwell turned to Drake, glaring up at him. “How the fuck would this be me?!” He snapped, losing his temper, which was something he very rarely did.

“You do have a weird sense of humour, Maxwell,” Drake snarled.

“Will you both just be quiet!” Olivia screamed, silencing both men as a result.

“People have died because of the actions you so called humanitarians have taken-”

“Who? What are you talking about?” Riley cut off, but her questions went unheard.

“…You all have your separate reasons as to why you're here and all know them. I wonder how long it will take for you all to confess to the crimes you’ve committed,” the man continued.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Madeline screamed, standing from the floor, mascara pouring down her cheeks. Olivia sent her a look that was enough to tell the Countess to shut her mouth before Olivia shut it for her.

“You all may have noticed the four tubes hanging from the ceiling.” Upon that revelation, the group looked up to see them dangling from the equally rough looking ceiling above them. It was then a drop of water fell and dripped onto Hana’s face. Hana looked around the room, the sense of panic growing as she caught sight of several vents on each corner of the room. Soon everyone else caught sight of them too.

“Now, this room is soon going to be filled with water. As you’ve all hopefully figured out by now there are only four tubes and there are seven of you. It’s said that healthy individuals, much like yourselves, can hold their breath for two minutes. We'll be putting that to the test though. After two minutes are up water will spill from one of the tubes, cutting off another air supply, and so forth. You’ll be in here for ten minutes, by then some of you will most likely have drowned and all air supplies will have been severed. The rules are simple: the only thing you need is the will to survive.” With that the tape grew to an end. Riley let out a scream of frustration and launched the thing at the wall, breaking it into pieces upon impact.

Surely this was all a sick joke, right?

Some panic seemed to drain from their bodies when nothing immediately started to happen. They all just stood passing each other cautious glances.

“Maybe this is all just a joke. A prank,” Emily suggested. Getting a death glare from Olivia, who seemed to be giving them to everyone by this point.

“M-maybe Em is right,” Maxwell chimed in rather hesitantly. He couldn't deny that sense of dread he was feeling right in the pit of his stomach that really made him reconsider his words. “Right?”

Maxwell was prompted to look down when something cold began to pool at his feet. He looked down, seeing the ice cold water pouring from the vents. Everyone’s eyes grew wide.

“Fuck!” Drake bellowed, pulling off his jacket.

“Now is not the time to take your clothes off, Walker!” Olivia reprimanded. The water was now just below knee height. It was filling up quickly and that was making them all rightfully start to panic.

“Try and block the vents,” Drake said, running over to the one nearest to him, trying to stuff his jacket inside which temporarily cut off the water supply.

“It’s working,” Maxwell said, shocked.

“Well it’s not going to stop it for long if you lot don't block the others,” Drake yelled, trying to keep his hold against the vent with the strong water pressure pushing against him. It was like he was playing a game of tug or war but he wasn’t so sure he was going to win.

The rest of the group all removed their jackets, thankful it was winter so all of them actually were wearing one, then followed Drake’s instruction, pressing the ball uped clothing against the vents. The water stopped, sitting just under their shoulders as they stayed knelt down. They all breathed a sigh of relief, that was until the pressure seemed to grow all the stronger and wrenched their hands off their targets and the water seeped in once again.

“Shit,” Riley mumbled, trying to push against it again but failing miserably, even Drake could not push against it and he was probably the strongest in the room.

They all got to their feet. Madeleine started to shiver with the cold water seeping through her clothes.

Emily had started to hyperventilate again, which in a room with a limited oxygen supply was not helping.

“Will you stop that?” Olivia growled at her, which caused the girl to cower away from the Duchess and her breathing to grow more shallow and laboured.

“I-I can’t breathe-” Emily stuttered out between gasps. Her hand landed on her chest, grabbing at her shirt.

“Em, now is not the time,” Drake warned. He would normally be sympathetic, try and help her but they were all a bit pressed for time. He rested a hand on her shoulder trying to provide her with at least some comfort.

Olivia headed over to the door. No handle. No lock. She wasn't sure it was a door to begin with but that looked like the only way out. She banged and clawed at the metal plank standing between her and freedom. After growing too frustrated she booted the thing, she was sure she’d at least broken a toe but she was too angry, too scared, to notice. She placed the victimised foot down, the cool water at least doing something other than trying to drown her.

Madeline looked around the room, trying to see if there was another way out but of course there wasn't. They were completely trapped. Of course there was that small window but they had all kind of figured out it was most likely bulletproof- it wasn't going anywhere. They weren't getting out unless they completed the game.

Drake had stepped away from his girlfriend and left Hana to provide her with some comfort. He felt like a complete dickhead for doing that but...they were going to die if they didn't figure this out.

Riley and Maxwell had tried to block the vents off again but it wasn't going to work and soon abandoned the idea. It was futile

The water was resting by the girls shoulders now. They were all average height but how they longed to be a giraffe like the men in the room. They were soon going to need to use the tubes...but Riley was hesitant. Maybe whoever that guy was had lied, maybe there was no air waiting to be sucked into their lungs through those, piss like yellow, tubes and she wasn’t the only one thinking that.

Somehow Emily had started to calm down. How she’d managed that nobody could comprehend because they were nearly as panicky as she had been. Panicking wasn't going to help though, they all needed to stay level headed if they were all going to survive this.

“Would now be a good time to tell everyone that I'm scared of water?” Maxwell asked, as the water seemed to be pouring in faster now. Drake shot him a glare.

“I think we all will be after this!” Riley yelled, as she tried to keep her head above the water like everyone else was struggling to do.

Soon the water was about to reach the ceiling so they all took one big breath as the cool water engulfed them completely. They all exchanged a look , having a sort of conversation about who should take a breath first.

Drake, Olivia and Riley let the others go first. They were all good at holding their breath so it made sense.

They watched anxiously as the others grabbed the the tubes, locking it in between their teeth as they held it with one hand and closed their mouths around the end to create a seal. If this didn't work then water would flood straight into their lungs and that’d be it. Game over.

Maxwell went first breathing through it getting a mouth full of water then turned his head away emptying his mouth then got back to it again. Finally, all the water seemed to clear from the tube and air flowed into his lungs. He gave the others a thumbs up who all followed suit, finally getting the same relief that Maxwell had been granted.

Drake was busy timing how long they had left until water would gush in from one tube. One minute had already passed. Another sixty seconds and one of those tubes were going to be cut off.

He could feel the pressure in his head, he wanted to open his mouth, to just take a breath which was something that was taken for granted, it was like that saying ‘you only miss something when it's gone.’ No truer words had ever been spoken.

He signalled for everyone to let go of their tubes when it hit the two minute mark. They all waited for a few seconds until water gushed from the tube Madeline had been using.

Maxwell, Emily, Hana and Madeline moved away from the tubes so Olivia, Drake and Riley could get at them. They each took in a breath.

It was one of the best things they had ever felt.

Once again, Drake timed it. He grabbed Olivia’s arm when time was out and they all pulled away, water soon gushed from the tube Riley had been occupying. This was where it was going to get difficult.

Two tubes. Seven people.

It's a human instinct to do whatever you need to survive and none of them wanted to die and that’s what Olivia had clocked that guy was counting on.

Madeline, Olivia, Hana and Emily took one tube and the others took the other, taking turns to take a breath. Drake’s eyes stayed fixed onto his watch, counting down. He knew that it was all going to get worse when that tube was cut off.

Once again he signalled time was up and everyone let go, watching as water flowed in. They all looked directly to the one tube that was left standing.

Madeline was the first to try and get to it. Unlucky for the countess Emily reached it first, taking in a deep breath. She was yanked away from it when Madeline pulled at her hair and then took hold of it herself. Frankly, no one was surprised that Maddy was the first to try something.

Emily turned around and grabbed Madeline's hair yanking her away. While they were occupied, Hana snuck in getting a hold of it and taking a long awaited breath. Drake got in between Emily and Madeline as they pounced at each other again. Fighting wasn't going to fix this. He held his hand out, it hovering over both of the women's chests to keep them away from one another.

What they were doing was completely human, stupid, but human nonetheless. They were panicking, they were staring death right in the face and they were trying to cheat it, find a way out and that was incredibly normal but they were all friends...well mostly, excluding the demon of course.

Maxwell wanted...no needed to breathe. He felt the pressure in his head making him so desperately want to open his mouth and take a breath.

Hana was looking around, seeing that all of the others were occupied with Emily and Olivia but what she didn't see was Maxwell flying towards her until it was too late. He slammed into her, sending her knocking into the wall and away from the tube. Maxwell latched his mouth over the end of the tube taking in a long awaited breath, as Hana recovered from the blow.

She touched her temple where it had slammed into the wall. She pulled her hand away, it covered in red as the blood dripping from the wound started to colour the water around her.

By this time Drake had noticed what had occurred after the women had started to calm down. He looked down to his watch seeing time was so nearly up he pushed Max out of the way as once again water flooded in through the final tube.

They all looked at each other, if that guy was telling the truth they just had two minutes left. Two minutes left of their lungs screaming for air. Two minutes of being surrounded by ice cold water that frankly they all started to adjust to by now. But Only 120 seconds left of this torture and they’d be out. They all just needed to remain calm, which of course was easier said than done and they’d be fine.

They looked at each other, each thinking of something else other than where they were, what was staring them right in the face.

Panic rose as the light started to flicker and soon plunged them all into darkness. Of course, the lights would go out, it happened in every horror movie ever. It was designed to instil fear and that’s exactly what it was doing.

Riley could see specks spotting her vision, it wasn't completely dark, she could see the outlines of her friends from the light coming from the small window, the light looked artificial, it didn't look like it was sunlight. It could have been her imagination, the oxygen deprivation but she could swear she just saw somebody peeking in. She blinked and then they were gone if they were ever there to begin with and the light with it. It felt like her head was exploding but the instinct not to let any water in was so strong that she didn't open her mouth.

Fear was a good thing right now, yes, it could make them act irrationally, like it already had but fear meant they wanted to survive. They wanted to get out and that’s all they needed. The will to survive.

She was dreading getting out in a way because maybe not everyone had survived this. She had fear of drowning, ever since she fell off her surfboard when she was a kid and got dragged under. It was a fear of not being in control.

Riley closed her eyes, surely this was nearly over. Right?

Without warning the door opened, the water gushed out and took the group with them, making them slam into either each other or the wall. They all scurried away from one another getting on to their knees coughing and taking in long, strangled breaths between coughs.

Hana dabbed at the side of her head, the blood had completely stopped. She got onto her knee still coughing as the air that she was never going to take for granted again reached her lungs. Soon even got to their knees, some standing up as they looked to one another. They had done it. They had survived.

Hana suddenly let out a ear piercing scream. They all followed her gaze and saw Maxwell laying unmoving by the door to the room they had just been in. Half of his body still inside the room and half out of it.

“M-Max?” Riley asked, stepping towards him cautiously.

He didn't move, didn't respond. Drake knelt down beside him placing two fingers against his friend's neck. He felt nothing.

“Great the idiot is dead. We might just get out of here after all,” Madeline said. Riley turned to her, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at her.

“What did you just say?” She asked, stepping toward the Countess.

“I said-” Before she could continue Riley lunged at her, grabbing at her hair and making her head bash against the wall. Madeline yelled, clawing at Riley's wrist. Drake stood, grabbed Riley round the waist and yanked her away as she grabbed at his arms and tried to worm her way out of his grip.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Drake commanded. He let go of her when she stopped fighting against him.

Riley ran her hands down her tired face, wiping away the tears that had started to spill. She watched as Olivia stepped up to Madeline and soon her fist connected with her jaw. Maxwell and Liv weren't friends really but at least she had some fucking respect.

“Liv!” Drake scolded.

“She fucking deserved it, Walker!” Olivia yelled back as she started to pace as Madeline dabbed at her now bloody nose.

“W-what do we do now?” Emily asked, timidly.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Hana said, nobody missed the way her voice cracked as she tried to keep her emotions in check. She nodded to a door on the other side of the room up a small metal staircase that had ‘this way’ written in red. It didn't look like blood, that was something at least.

“The psychopath signposted the place. Useful,” Olivia mumbled under her breath.

Drake turned around to see Riley now knelt down clutching onto Maxwell's body, her fingers running through his damp hair.

“Ri?” She didn't answer, “Brooks come on.”

“We can't leave him here,” She said, her voice quiet and defeated. She knew now wasn't the time to be difficult but…Maxwell is-was her one of her best friends, he was the entire reason that Riley is where she is now. She wanted to cry...but as heartless as it sounded Maxwell wasn’t the priority right now.

“We have too,” Olivia said calmly. “We- when we get out we’ll have someone come and get him but you need to come now.”

“What if it's just another trap?” Riley asked, voicing everyone else's concerns.

“It probably is,” Olivia said honestly, earning herself a glare from Drake. “What? We’re all thinking it. I really doubt being locked in a stupid room for ten minutes is the end of this, do you?”

“She’s got a point,” Emily voiced.

“We don't know this for sure. Let's not panic,” Hana recommended.

Riley took one last look at Maxwell, biting at her bottom lip to stop it quivering and stood, wiping at her eyes and turned to the rest of the group.

“There’s only one way to find out.”