#rowaelinmonth2023

[goddess-aelin]

Little Falcon

For day 22 of Rowaelin Month: Magic/Shifting lessons with the kids

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin was going to kill him, she truly was. She usually was a forgiving soul, one of the kindest people he knew despite her penchant for violence and general mischief. But for this, she would kill him.

Because he committed probably the worst act he could have ever committed. Worse than killing a man. Worse than forgetting Aelin’s birthday. Worse than eating his wife’s chocolate hazelnut cake. No, Rowan lost their daughter. Alma was almost four years old, her blonde, shining hair always a beacon and her quiet, yet temperamental disposition a mirror of her mother’s. It seemed that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to sneak around. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.

He’d been searching the castle for almost an hour, hoping to find the little trickster before Aelin was done with her meeting. He began in Alma’s room, hoping that her golden hair would be sticking out from her covers or her tiny toes from under her bed. No such luck was found. He made his way around the royal family’s wing of the castle with the same circumstances. He quietly asked the staff members if they had seen her, all to a resounding “no” and a look of disapproval that he lost Alma.

He was about to shift into hawk form to do a fly-by of the castle grounds but before he could, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their wing. Alma. Relieved, he rounded the corner, shouting her name and about to give the little girl a stern talking to when he stopped in his tracks. Aelin was standing in front of him, one brow raised and a knowing look on her face.

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

Rowan let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you see…” He knew Aelin could probably see the sweat beading on his forehead. “Alma and I, we were….we were playing hide and seek! Yeah. And she’s just so good at hiding that I can’t find her.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Buzzard. Just tell me you lost our daughter so we can go find her.”

He deflated at that. “Fine. I lost our daughter. Happy now?”

“Not particularly, no.” Aelin sighed. “I was gone for less than two hours, Rowan. How did this happen?”

“Errin needed to be changed so I stepped out of her room for a minute. A single minute, Aelin. And the next thing I knew, she was gone.” Panic laced his voice and he knew that he was about five seconds from completely losing his shit. It was a miracle he had kept it together this long, to be quite honest.

“I put Errin in his crib for a nap–don’t worry, one of the nursemaids is in there with him–and I came back and she was just gone. I didn’t even hear her little feet scamper by or anything. I don’t understand it.” Tears were finally forming in his eyes as the realization that he lost their daughter set in.

Slender arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him tightly. “It’s okay, Buzzard. We’ll find her, okay? We’ll look together and we’ll find her.” Even if Aelin was putting on a brave front, he knew she was probably panicking as much as he was. “Besides, she has the bravery of both of her parents so I’m sure she’s totally fine.” Aelin gave him a small smile and pulled him by the hand toward her room.

Gradually, they overturned every cushion, ripped every blanket from her bed, and opened everyy door and drawer but still no Alma. Rowan tugged on his hair, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach again. Aelin was slowly putting everything back to where it was so he figured he’d go and make another round of their bedroom.

Aelin’s voice halted him about halfway down the hall. “Uh, hey, Buzzard?”

He doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life. With panicked eyes, he burst into the room like a tornado. Aelin was standing calmly in the center of the room, looking up at the small curtain rod that hung over Alma’s bed.

“Look there,” she pointed toward the ceiling where a small bird was perched on the curtain rod. A suspiciously golden-looking falcon stared back at him and chirped. The tiny falcon flapped its wings, getting enough air to rise up from its perch and glide down to land on Rowan’s shoulder.

Aelin’s voice was breathless when she spoke, “Is that–”

Rowan nodded. “I think it is.” Rowan brought a single finger up to gently pet the bird’s head, it’s color too close to Alma’s blonde waves for it to be a coincidence.

As his finger stopped its motion, a bright light flashed and then there was a familiar weight in his arms. He was shocked into silence as he beheld Alma sitting in his arms, smiling.

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Rowan brought her into the tightest embrace he could manage without crushing her little bones. “I can see that,” he choked out. When he looked up at Aelin, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She gave him a look that seemed to say, Well, shit.

“Alma, how long have you been able to do that? Turn into a bird?”

“I not just any bird, Daddy! I’s a falcon! Uncle Fen said so!”

“Uncle Fen knew about this?” Alma nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! He said I should sup’rise you.”

Rowan smiled tightly at his daughter. “Consider me surprised, little falcon.”

His daughter put her tiny hands over her mouth and giggled. The sight made his cold heart melt. But quickly, the severity of the situation overtook him.

“You have to let me know when you’re going to shift, okay? I want to teach you how to fly safely so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Daddy, you’re bein’ a Buzzard. Jus’ like Mommy always says.”

Rowan’s mouth hung open. Aelin’s cackle could be heard throughout the castle as she doubled over in hysterics.

Eventually, Aelin’s laughter died down and she met his eyes through her tears. I’ll get you back for that, Fireheart.

Mmhm, sure. Not before you murder Fenrys though, right?

Rowan gave a curt nod and pulled his giggling little falcon back into his arms. She placed a tiny hand over the tattoo on his face.

“Daddy, I can’t wait to fly with you! It’s gonna be so much fun.” And with that, she snuggled into his arms once more.

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this one and I was squealing from cuteness while doing so 🥹

Tagging:

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

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck. 

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here. 

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.” 

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.  

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering. 

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves. 

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

**************

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

 “Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

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[rowaelinscourt]

Rowaelin Month: PROMPT LIST

HERE IT IS! The Rowaelin Month 2023 Prompt List! We are ecstatic to be back for a the full month of September once again!

We hope you all love these prompts as much a we do and we are so excited to see what everyone will create in honor of our beloved Fireheart and Buzzard!

We've included a handy calendar image for you all, but if for any reason the image isn't working or is hard to read, the full list will be written out below the cut.

START DATE: September 1st

Green filled boxes denote CANON SPECIFIC PROMPTS

1. Participation every day is not required. You can create a many or as few submissions for the listed prompts as you like!

2. Please remember to tag your creations with #rowaelinmonth so people following the tag can find them! And don't forget to mention @rowaelinscourt in your post do we can reblog it!

3. Please remember that all works MUST have appropriate tags and content warnings. NSFW content is required to be tagged clearly and hidden below a 'Read More cut. We want everyone to have a fun and safe time engaging with content!

4. All genres of work are welcome, but please note any major warnings at the top of the work so readers or viewers have some idea what to expect.

5. Canon Week is back (with 2 whole extra days!) to fill that canon shaped hole in our hearts! While we kindly request that Canon Week prompts remain specifically for canon scenarios, remember that any and all prompts are welcome to be interpreted as canon/a canon-inspired setting as well! With creativity and imagination, the possibilities are limitless!

6. Any kind of fanwork can be submitted for this event so long as it can be applied to the prompt! Fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, playlists or any thing else you can think of! There are no requirements and you can submit multiple works for the same prompt of your so wish.

Rowaelin Month Prompt List

September 1: Song Fic

September 2: Accidents Happen

September 3: Rowaelin as teens

September 4: "Friends don't do this"

September 5: A Bad Date

September 6: Forced Proximity

September 7: Vacation or Outdoor Adventure (ie a road trip, beach day, hiking ect)

September 8: Single Parents

September 9: Renaissance Fair

September 10: Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry

September 11: Getting Arrested/ A Trip to the Police Station

September 12: Meet Cute / Meet Ugly

September 13: Babies / Kids / Next Gen

September 14: An Argument/ Making up After an Argument

September 15: Meeting the Parents

September 16: Mob AU

September 17: Mating Ceremony

September 18: Aelin with hawk Rowan

September 19: Telling Their Children about Their Tattoos

September 20: Drunken Antics

September 21: Scars

September 22: Magic/Shifting Lessons with the Children

September 23: Domestic Fluff

September 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"

September 25: Arranged Marriage

September 26: Taking care of the littles solo

September 27: Person A is touch starved but didn't know how to reach out to Person B

September 28: Wartime Sweethearts

September 29: Firsts (date/kiss/time/child/ect)

September 30: A Missing or Alternate Scene from Canon

[leiawritesstories]

Stick Season (Part 1)

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 1: Song Fic

inspired by "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan (giggles in Frederick) I've had so much fun writing this and I am beyond excited to share it with all of you! happy Rowaelin Month once again! <3

Word count: 2,480

Warnings: swearing, bad decisions, heartbreak, not-great parenting, angst, simmering sexual tension, pining idiots in love but they won't admit it

Enjoyyyy! (yes there will be more, i promise)

@rowaelinscourt

Prologue

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

Downtown Orynth, Vermont, still looked exactly the same as it always did when Aelin paid her occasional, brief visit to her hometown. Same “cozy” wooden buildings, same storefronts lining Main Street, same pine boughs wrapped around the light posts, same dusting of snow brushed across the rooftops in a postcard-picture kind of perfection. Same kindhearted shopowners waving at her as she strolled down the cleanly swept sidewalk. 

If she smiled hard enough, maybe she could pretend there wasn’t a gaping hole in her heart. 

Three years since she cut the other half of her soul out of her life, and no amount of friendship and laughter and girls’ nights could fill the empty chasm that leaving Rowan left in her. 

“Aelin?” The voice came from her left as she passed the local bookstore, a place where she’d spent some of the happiest hours of her youth. 

She turned. “Philippa!” A genuine smile curved up her lips. “I didn’t think you were still working here all the time.” 

Philippa waved off the mild protest with a flippant hand. “You know how busy it gets at this time of year, my dear.” She pulled Aelin into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again!” 

Aelin melted into the older woman’s motherly embrace. “Want to know a secret?” 

“Is that even a question?” Philippa laughed, opening the bookstore door and nudging her inside. “I live to collect secrets.” 

“Of course you do,” Aelin chuckled. “Well, here it is: I wasn’t planning to be back home this year. Or next year. Or anytime soon, really.” She blew out a short, sharp sigh. “I’m only here because…well…” She trailed off, not fully ready to voice the reason she’d returned. 

Philippa patted her arm. “It’s alright to let yourself grieve, dear. Your mother’s passing was a shock to all of us.” 

“And something of a relief,” Aelin mumbled under her breath. 

Ever tactful, Philippa pretended not to hear. “Will you be here through New Year’s?” she asked, smoothly changing the somber subject. 

Aelin nodded. “Yes. I’ll drive back to New York sometime around January fifteenth, unless Dad needs me for longer. I’m working remotely until then.” 

“Thank goodness for modern technology, right?” 

“Right.” She half-grinned. “I don’t suppose you’re still resisting that modern nonsense, hmm?” 

Philippa pretended to hide. “You caught me.” 

Aelin fake-groaned. “How many times have I told you that it will help the bookstore grow? Think of all the customers you could reach with something as simple as a website and maybe an Instagram profile!” Pasion seeped into her words, coloring her thoughts with excitement. “And you could easily keep up with the online orders–that crappy old monitor you have barely runs basic word programming, let alone internet.” 

“You be nice to Mort, now,” Philippa teased. She’d named the bookstore’s ancient computer Mort in honor of the many times it had brushed with death. 

“Mort deserves to be laid to rest once and for all,” Aelin laughed. “Are you trying to keep me in town or something, asking when I’m heading home?” 

“Maybe.” The older woman’s laugh lines crinkled as she grinned. “Or maybe I’m just planning to offer you a job here while you’re in town.” 

“You know I work in publishing, right?” Aelin raised her brows. “I’m pretty sure that’s enough books and book stuff for one woman.” 

“How long has it been since you remembered why you work in publishing in the first place?” 

The question made Aelin stop in her tracks, mind whirling as she sifted through years of memories. “I…years. God, it’s been…years.” For a moment, yearning flickered across her face. “Maybe not since the last time I volunteered here at Christmas.” 

“Exactly.” Philippa gave Aelin’s hand a motherly squeeze. “Christmas season is far too busy for one old woman to handle alone. So…will you help me?” 

A fond smile curved Aelin’s lips. “Of course I will.” 

~

Snow-dusted evergreen boughs adorned the lampposts of downtown Orynth, weaving their crisp pine breezes through the early evening air. Hands tucked into the pockets of his quilted flannel jacket, Rowan strolled down Main Street, determined to avoid being sidetracked into one of the golden-lit shops that smelled invitingly of cedar, maple sugar, pine, and spiced cider. Christmas scents always had been his weakness, despite the pain he couldn’t separate from the holiday. 

A single paper bag dangled from his left wrist, the only sign that he’d been out shopping for the holidays. His entire brood of cousins was about to descend upon Doranelle, the next town over, for the next few weeks, so he’d come into Orynth to pick up a few things. He refused to admit that the massive canister of peppermint hot cocoa mix was an impulse buy–it had been on sale, and he knew how much his relatives adored all the sweet holiday treats. 

It had nothing whatsoever to do with peppermint hot chocolate being Aelin’s favorite. Nothing.

“Whitethorn?” The call came from his left. 

Rowan turned towards the voice. “Who–” 

“Whitethorn! It is you!” Aedion Ashryver stepped out of Staghorns Tavern, a popular local brewery. “Come inside, man, have a drink.” He pulled Rowan into a brief, back-slapping hug. “Good to see you again.” 

“Good to see you too, Ashryver.” Rowan returned the hug but hesitated at the offer of a drink. “I dunno about the drink, though.” He raised his shopping bag. “Gotta go home and prepare the place for the Whitethorn horde.” 

Aedion snickered. “You’re still letting them crash at your place, huh? Thought you would’ve liked the house to yourself every once in a while.” 

Rowan shrugged. “It’s a big house, and I live alone all the rest of the year.” He flashed Aedion a smirk. “Besides, Sellene and Enda would just barge in anyways, so I might as well allow it.” 

“Fair enough.” Aedion glanced into the brewery, waving off someone inside. “You sure you don’t want to grab a quick drink? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever.” 

“Yeah, give me a rain check on the…” Rowan trailed off into silence, his brain stalling at the sight of Aelin Galathynius opening Stag’s door and grabbing her cousin by the arm, halfway through a teasing jibe about Aedion wasting his body heat trying to warm up the December chill. 

“...not worth it to–oh.” Her wide-eyed turquoise gaze slammed into Rowan with all the force of an avalanche. 

“What are you doing here?” The question, though whispered, tore out of him with the force of a deafening scream. 

Aedion brushed a protective touch over Aelin’s shoulder, murmured something softly into her ear, and slipped back into the brewery, wisely leaving the two of them alone. 

She swallowed thickly and steeled her spine, meeting his stare head-on. “I’m home for my mother’s funeral and the holidays.” Her tone was cool, detached, nothing more than an old acquaintance responding to a casual question. 

“I–I had no idea,” Rowan murmured. “I’m so sorry, Aelin.” 

“Don’t be.” She snorted quietly, her shields snapping back into place as swiftly as they’d fallen. “About Evalin, Rowan. Don’t be sorry.” A pause, a crack in her controlled exterior. “I can’t say I am.” Her expression sharpened. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here…um, by Staghorns?” 

He read the unspoken question, finding himself surprised that she hadn’t asked outright. “I was in Orynth to pick up a few things before my cousins get here tomorrow, and I was heading down towards the parking lot.” Downtown Orynth was strictly car-free, so the town had built parking space by the edge of the no-traffic zone. “Your cousin saw me, so I stopped for a bit.” And held off the alcohol, he added, silently. 

She nodded in understanding. “I…I should go.” She turned. 

“Wait!” Unexpectedly, he reached for her hand, stopping himself with bare millimeters between his skin and hers. “I…when are you leaving?” 

“After New Year’s.” The words were clipped. 

The shields encasing his heart slammed back down with finality. “So you’ll just up and leave again, no warning, not telling anyone?” He laughed, a sound as brittle as the winter air. “I don’t know why I expected any different.” 

“Some things never change,” she whispered, half to herself, her voice teetering dangerously close to anguish. Without another word, without a backward glance, she yanked open the brewery door, walked in, and vanished into the crowd packed into the bustling space. 

His heart a tangle of stormy emotions, Rowan turned on his heel and strode down the rest of the street, not stopping until he reached his pickup. There, he dropped his shopping bag in the back seat, leaned himself against the truck’s battered old green frame, and breathed as deeply as he could. Eyes screwed shut, he allowed the flood of memories to wash over him, sinking into the aching familiarity of her golden hair and wild laugh, her burning resilience and unwavering strength. The watery croak of her voice when she told him she was sorry three years ago. The tsunami of anger and rage and grief and torment that had ripped through his whole being for weeks after that afternoon.

Then he locked those precious, shattered memories back into the dark recesses of his mind, swung himself up into the truck, and drove off into the December night. 

~

Three Years Ago

Rowan pulled into his driveway in shell-shocked silence, muscle memory guiding him out of his truck and into the house. He kicked off his boots in the mudroom, shook the loose snow off the soles, and placed them neatly on the rack. Numbly, he shed his thick winter jacket and hung it on its peg, made sure he was free of tray snow and ice, and walked into the warmth of the wood-paneled house. 

A beer bottle shattered at his feet the second he came through the door. 

“The hell y’been, boy?” His stepfather’s slurred words were barely distinguishable. 

“Work, then the store.” Rowan had learned years ago to keep his words as brief and subdued as possible, lest he face another of Arobynn’s famous eruptions of drunken wrath. “Picked up another six-pack.” He placed the case of beer bottles on the kitchen counter. 

Arobynn squinted at the six-pack. “Leas’ y’did one thing right,” he sneered. “Clean up the fuckin’ floor, boy.” He grabbed two bottles of beer and stumbled back out into the living room, where he collapsed into his reeking, tattered old leather recliner and lost himself in his usual world of alcohol and blaring television. 

Rowan clenched his fists and jaw and picked up the broom. He made quick work of the broken glass, dumped it in the trash bin, put away the broom, and grabbed some food as he hurried off to his room. Arobynn’s alcoholism was a blessing, in a way–he confined himself to that side of the house, not moving much between the den, the kitchen, and his bedroom and bathroom. It meant that Rowan could stay in the master bedroom, which was at the other end of the house, and keep the rest of his family home as clean as possible. 

Every time he looked at the single portrait of his parents that adorned his bedroom wall, he swore he could hear their sorrow at the state of their once-beautiful home. 

That goddamn crash had taken so much from the Whitethorn family. 

Rowan was only a child when he lost his dad, and his mother had been so buried in her grief that she’d failed to see the giant blaring red flags of the first man that showed her any affection. She’d married Arobynn Hamel partially out of what she thought was love and partially out of necessity; the property needed another pair of adult hands to maintain it, not to mention another income. It was only a few months before Arobynn’s true colors showed themselves. 

For five years, Rowan’s mother had stayed strong, protecting her son by sacrificing herself. She’d protected her son from his stepfather’s fits of drunken rage, from the anger that reverberated through the house, and even from the knowledge of her medical diagnosis. When he lost her, too, Rowan lost all hope that his life could be anything but alcohol and anger and abuse. 

Then he went away to college and met Aelin, and her warmth rekindled his frozen soul. 

Watching her drive away from him mere hours ago had ripped the fragile, carefully patched scraps of his heart into bleeding shreds. 

Fuck it. If he didn’t blow off some steam now, he’d do something he’d regret later.

As silently as possible, Rowan slipped out of the house, crossed the snowy yard to the barn, hauled open the door that desperately needed some oil, and flicked on the overhead lights, illuminating the large, chilly, wooden-beamed space. He’d slowly transformed the barn into a gym over the years, picking up old equipment at estate sales and local gyms who were remodeling or getting rid of old machines and other stuff. Right then, he only had eyes for the punching bag–his favorite way to release the pent-up anger his fists itched to rain down upon Arobynn’s worthless face. 

He took off his jacket and sweatshirt, pulled on his well-loved boxing gloves, and strode over to the punching bag. With a grunt, he launched into a punishing round of strikes and punches, pummeling the taut leather sandbag with enough force to send it rocking on its chain. That first volley loosened the knot of tension in his chest, opening the floodgates, and every tangled, indecipherable, raw emotion he’d bottled up came pouring out in the erratic rhythm of his gloved fists (and occasionally his shoes) against the punching bag, interspersed with hoarse yells, broken shouts, curses, groans, and grunts. He lost himself in the slap of leather on leather, barely remembering to draw breath, slapping and punching and kicking until the flood of grief and pain and rage had subsided enough for his head to clear. 

Chest heaving, rare tears seeping hot and salty down his face, Rowan sank to the weathered wooden plank floor, buried his head in his hands, and felt the crushing weight of abandonment, an old familiar companion, press down upon his shoulders once again. 

Although he didn’t know it, Aelin was curled in the same position on the floor of her childhood bedroom, her face buried in her hands, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. The same anguish tore through her ruined heart, a white-hot knife of grief and guilt piercing her to her core. Leaving him was the last thing she ever wanted to do; it was like splitting herself in half. Yet she had left him, tossed him to the snowy curb without a backward glance. Leaving him shell-shocked on the edge of the highway, heart in his throat and the winter wind whistling through his empty hands.

~~~

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[highqueenofelfhame]

froggyheart & frogger 💚

canon week starts tomorrow over at @rowaelinscourt ! i haven’t written anything yet because life has been crazy but i DID draw Rowaelin as frogs bc…. well, because i have the tism and frogs are a special interest and rowaelin are a special interest. our OTP. i like to think this is sometime around the end of heir of fire or something, who knows.

i’m obviously not an artist, pls be nice. this was just for funsies and me and my boyfriend giggled the entire time i worked on it.

happy rowaelin month 💚🐸

[goddess-aelin]

I’m LIVING. IM ALIVEeEEEEEEEEEEE

ThEY FINALLY KISSED!!!!!!!!!

MARIA I LOVE YOU

but also some highlights:

Maisie shouting “I GOTTA POO” was comedy gold and then when she said her butt was clogged? Dead

Aelin telling Rowan that he never lost her 😭

And now….they’re gonna ffffffffffuuuuuuuuuqqqqq

Look at Us Now - ch. 18

Fic masterlist

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Warnings: very light nsfw?

Words: 2,6k

“Do my boobs look too big in this?”

Aelin snapped her head back to Lysandra, that question unexpected given the birthday party they were in. She was pretty sure her friend was only being that vocal because they were alone at the table, the kids letting loose nearby with the entertainer. “What?”

Lys showed her phone—the photoshop app, to be more precise—and insisted, “Do my boobs still look freakish?”

She rolled her eyes and analyzed the picture, zooming in Lys’ boobs. Lysandra Ennar, the only person Aelin knew that made her breasts look smaller with photoshop. “They look amazing, just as they do in person. Remind me why you use those apps again?”

“Aelin Galathynius, this is a judgment-free zone,” she chastised in a low tone, the poorly-concealed crinkle in her eyes giving away that her offense was nothing but a joke. “This is an illusion, just like that pink bikini you bought with me.”

She took a sip of her milkshake, squinting her eyes at Lys. That bikini did work as a real-life photoshop, pushing up what needed to be pushed up and hugging her body like it had been made exclusively for her body. Too bad Rowan was too busy ignoring her to notice.

“Leave the pink bikini out of it.”

“Fine.” Lysandra blocked her phone and left it with the screen facing the table. “But will you ever tell me what happened on that trip?”

“Nothing happened on the trip,” Aelin lied.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Aelin said before busying her mouth with chocolate milkshake.

Lysandra gasped. “Did you guys do it?”

Aelin wrinkled her nose, disappointed with herself. “No.”

“Boo!” Her friend leaned back on her chair, wearing a vacant stare. “Don’t you miss it when people were just like, ‘Hey, wanna do it or not?’ and that was it?“

Aelin choked on her milkshake. “Are you talking about college?”

“What? No!” Lys chuckled, her eyes filled with mirth. “Like, thousands of years ago when everyone was gay and poly, and people drew themselves having big orgies in vases or something.”

Aelin threw her head back, laughing. “I think they were drawing because they didn’t have cameras, Lys.”

“Still.” Her friend’s eyes narrowed, not happy to have her theory debunked. “I doubt that Ancient Aelin would be in the same situation you’re now.”

She waved Lysandra off, mostly because a godsend server approached their table with more fries and mini hot-dogs. The amount of food at children’s parties made her resent adult ones a little. When did people decide that a bunch of different cheese is proper food?

She posted the picture after Lysandra edited it completely, but her mind was going a mile a minute.

Maybe Aelin should channel Ancient Aelin.

Not literally, but after so much talking and waiting and looking for clues, maybe she should just drop a blunt question and see how much of her relationship with Rowan was salvageable. If all that waiting was leaving them somewhere or not.

And after Aelin decided to put an end to this blind anticipation, it was like nothing existed besides her goal. Every person there wasn’t Rowan, the one she needed to talk to. Every stretch of time was too long before she found him. The space between this venue and his house felt twice as long.

“You’re antsy,” Lysandra said without taking her eyes off the phone.

“I’m watching the kids.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

Aelin frowned, her food tapping. “There’s this thing I have to do. Do you mind watching Maisie? I can pick her up at your place. Or you drop her at mine. I’ll owe you this one.”

Lysandra raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Are you making me babysit to get laid?”

“No.” Aelin felt her cheeks heating. It wasn’t a lie because she had no guarantee of getting laid, but it was part of her intention.

“Pity.” Lys picked on her nails, a nonchalant expression on her face. “Because Maisie’s a little terror, I’m only watching her for a good reason.”

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, resigned. “I need to see Rowan, but I’m not sure what’s gonna happen. Happy?”

“Very.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish. “Auntie Lys is happy to take over.”

˜˜

Turns out Maisie wasn’t excited about that. Instead, she decided to come with Aelin.

“We should play freeze tag,” her little girl said at the same time her phone pinged.

Aedion: who’s the chick you posted a pic with

“Not now, honey. What about some TV, and we play freeze tag later?” She suggested while typing.

Aelin: wouldn’t you like to know

Aedion: tell me

“No!” Maisie shouted inside the car. “The TV is there forever, I want to play with you and Daddy.”

Aelin held back a flinch. Even if their family was a lot closer these days, they still had separate lives. Playing all three together was a frequent occurrence now, but not enough for Maisie to discard the opportunity.

This was one of the things she was hoping to change today.

“What about the drums, Mais?”

She typed while waiting for her daughter’s response.

Aelin: she’s my soccer mom bestie

Aelin: we bond over motherhood and my cursed love life

“I do like my drums,” Maisie agreed in that stubborn way of hers, making Aelin fist pump inside her mind when her phone pinged again.

Aedion: can her husband fight

She snorted, affectionately rolling her eyes before opening Rowan’s garden gate. She wouldn’t give Aedion the satisfaction of knowing that her friend’s a single mom, especially since Lys is too good for her manwhore cousin.

After setting Maisie in the garage and making sure she was safe there, Aelin rounded the house towards the backyard and knocked on the kitchen’s back door.

It was an odd sight. Rowan’s kitchen was a mess, his sink overflowing with dirty dishes while the utensils were scrambled over the counter, looking no better than Maisie’s play kitchen. He was already leaving through the other door when he turned around and let her in.

“Hey.“ Rowan gave her a small smile. ”I heard Maisie’s drums and thought it was a ghost. The party’s over already?”

Indeed, the kid’s drums were loud and clear two rooms over. She wondered why Rowan’s parents bought the chaotic ones instead of the ones with headphones.

Aelin shook her head. Not the time to think about drums.

She took a step deeper inside the kitchen heart thrumming as his expectant eyes watched her.

“We need to talk.”

“We do,” he said before taking off his apron and hanging it near him, his movements stiff. “Do you want me to start?”

“I’ll do it.” She tapped the side of her head. “I’m ready.”

When she said it, Aelin didn’t know she was, in fact, not ready.

She watched his open—if not a little uneasy—face, recalling some rules of non-violent communication inside her head. They hadn’t needed to strictly follow it in a while, but Aelin didn’t want to risk it. She wasn’t above making a scandal, but she wanted to show Rowan that he didn’t need to hide. No matter what happened, they could still be civil. No need to run away from her or shout.

She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come. Step 1: communicate everything that happened without blaming your partner. Since this conversation was a last-minute decision, she didn’t know how to explain everything that was happening, or even what part of the last six years to explain. She didn’t want to say a huge monologue and overwhelm his brain either.

Then she thought of step two. Telling how she felt.

Ever since they met? That whole bloody emotion wheel.

Rowan hadn’t said a word while she struggled to articulate hers, and the way he was struggling to not let her know he was struggling made her mind race even more. His face would look neutral, if it wasn’t for that mildly-veiled worry in his eyes, his lips pinched. His body would look composed, if it wasn’t for that tension in his shoulders, or the way he discreetly fiddled with his fingers, his feet silently jiggling.

Aelin cleared her throat. “I know this goes against what we learned in therapy about healthy relationships, and respecting your partner’s autonomy, and…” she trailed, then stopped and squared her shoulders. Her eyes were determined and intent on him. “I know you can do whatever you want. But, in this conversation, I’m not giving you an option where you don’t end up with me. Together. Romantically, to be loud and clear.”

Rowan blinked. One, two, too many times for her poor, agitated heart. Then he took a step back while letting out something that was between a shaky smile and a wheezy puff of breath… and gave his back to her.

Aelin’s limbs slackened as she watched him open an oven and retrieve a cake. Without even properly rejecting her.

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, her heart aching from the weight of his rejection. All that effort, her blunt declaration. It was all in vain.

After placing the half-decorated chocolate cake—he never baked those. What’s going on?—in the counter, he ran to the living room and came back with a bouquet so big Aelin could barely see his face behind it. Kingsflower was the main feature of the bouquet.

Aelin took a step back, feeling like she's lost control of her own jaw. Her favorite cake and her favorite flowers.

Rowan tried to fix some edges of the unfinished chocolate frosting with a butter knife. Frowning at his incomplete work, he asked, “Have you ever felt like it’d be easier to die for someone than to hire a band and perform a cheesy love song for them?”

Her chuckle was watery, a little confused. “Why would you do that?”

“The whole story is a bit long, but I brainstormed a very extensive list with ways to convince you to be with me. Together. Romantically, to be loud and clear,” he replicated the last part of her inarticulate speech around a sheepish smile.

Aelin flung herself at him, her arms squeezing his middle and her forehead leaning against his collarbone when she whispered, “You never lost me, Rowan.”

“Yes, I did, and it was my fault.” His tone was just as low as he caressed Aelin’s hair against him. “I hurt you. I wasn’t there for you. I lost you.” His voice broke in the last sentence, his eyes glossy. ”I lost half of Maisie’s days too.”

“It’s on me, too.” Aelin stroked his cheek, small but reassuring. “There’s so many things I wish I’d done differently back then, but—“

“You can’t do the right choices when you’re not in the right state of mind,” Rowan quoted their therapist.

She gave him a weak smile. “Exactly.” She whispered, “I’m so sorry. For the delay, for every angry phone call, for—“

“Shh.” Rowan tangled his fingers on the back of her head, tilting her face to his as his gaze roamed over her face, searching. “I’m sorry too.”

Aelin licked her parted lips, eyes intent on Rowan’s as she felt her body temperature rise. He dipped his head, closing the distance—

“MOMMY!” Maisie screamed, shooting through the hallway as fast as a bullet. “GOTTA POO.”

Aelin startled, detangling herself from Rowan on instinct.

“Okay, honey,” she shouted, despite her breathlessness, after her daughter went to the bathroom that was right next to the kitchen. “Tell me when you’re done,”

Aelin laid her eyes on Rowan’s lips, distracted with the way his tongue licked them, and mumbled, “We must have from two to five minutes until she finishes.”

His lips closed to accommodate his snort. “Are you sure you want more kids?”

She swapped his chest, then left her hands there. God, those were nice to grope. “You’re not funny.”

“Not my strong suit, indeed.”

Without warning, Rowan pulled her face toward his, stopping for a second when the tip of their noses brushed to give her time to pull back. None of that. Aelin slid her hand to the back of his hair and pressed their lips together.

It was absolute heaven.

She opened up for him, letting his tongue in as he touched her face and hair with tender caresses. Aelin was already melting into his touch, but when she pushed her full body against his and grabbed a chunk of his hair, the mood shifted. Now, the way Rowan’s tongue massaged Aelin’s was as sinful as the way she pressed her full body against his.

Tasting her mouth like it was his, Rowan held her waist and hips like they were his lifeline. She took it was a cue to press herself against him until she left his cock bulging behind his pants, the friction making him hiss.

Rowan nipped her neck in retaliation, until it became a full ministration against her pulse point. Her moan against his ear was low, but enough to make him squeeze her waist harder. Aelin squirmed against him—

“Mom?” Maisie called from the bathroom.

Aelin took a step back, thanking Mala that Rowan looked a little amused by it, instead of annoyed like any other man would. “You done?” she shouted in Maisie’s direction.

“No.” A pause. “Have you ever had a clogged butt?”

Aelin grimaced. Not her favorite conversation topic while making out with her baby daddy for the first time in years. “Every now and then, Mais. Must run in the family, huh?”

“This sucks!”

“It never happens to me!” Rowan cut in. “My poop moves like my stomach’s a water slide because I eat green stuff that aren’t M&M’s.”

Her dad’s snark made Maisie groan. Loudly. Like a tiny teenager. “MOM! I need to unclog my butt.”

Aelin’s sigh against Rowan’s chest quickly became a chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

He gave her a small kiss. “Go.”

~~

“And when she left the house to meet the prince—“

“No!” Maisie shouted, interrupting her bedtime story. She was dragging her eyelids open, clearly struggling to stay awake. “She’ll meet with the witch.”

Aelin frowned. “Honey, the witch is evil. We have to run away from her, remember?”

She leaned on her elbow. “But the evil witch deserves love, too.”

“Fine,” Aelin said while Rowan put Maisie back into a sleeping position. He was never good at coming up with stories, so he just sat by their daughter’s bed while Aelin struggled to think of a tale Maisie liked. “And when she left the house to—“

“But why does she want to live with the prince? Her dad is nice.”

Aelin gave a strained smile, her patience wearing thin. “Because that’s what happens when you grow up, love. At some point, you’ll want to move out—“

“No.” Maisie crossed her arms, pouting. “We’ll live together forever, and travel together to all the places, because we’re friends and we love each other.”

That was enough to melt Aelin’s impatience. She grinned, pecking all over Maisie’s face and laying next to her in her bed. Rowan’s eyes were crinkled with joy next to them, but Aelin’s only focus was on making Maisie sleep.

“Okay, Maisy Daisy. You’re right about that.” Aelin caressed the girl’s pale blonde hair, not caring to explain that her opinion would change the second she became a teenager. Maisie started to let herself drift because of Aelin’s cuddles, they hugged until it was sure the little girl wouldn’t wake up anymore.

Aelin got up and rounded the bed until she was next to Rowan. She lightly scraped her nails against his shoulders and neck, making him shiver, and whispered, “Come on.”

Their day consisted of freeze tag, family meals, and clandestine kisses when Maisie couldn’t see. They would tell her when it felt right.

Rowan took a last peak at Maisie and adjusted her night lights, before sending Aelin a heated look that told her it was time to move to another bedroom.

When they stepped out of Maisie’s room and were out of earshot, Rowan threw Aelin against the hallway wall and captured her lips with his.

A/N: my main plot line ends here and now I’m just stretching things with lots of fluff and minor conflict just to keep things going. I’m emotional.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

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[goddess-aelin]

For Rowaelin, them being dilf and milf

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

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

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

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

“Are you sure you have to go out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin could physically feel her heart turning to mush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tagging:

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

[goddess-aelin]

Peonies and Poplars

Written for Day 12 of Rowaelin Month-Meet Cute/Meet Ugly

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none!

Aelin had just put her hand on the last copy of Peonies and Poplars, the newest release in her favorite book series by R.J. White, set directly after Violets and Verbena and Tulips and Tithona. Aelin didn’t just want the book, she needed it like she needed air to breathe. She had to find out what happened to the titular character, Selena, who just got captured by Lord Westbrooke, her father’s greatest enemy. Aelin just knew that Selena’s star-crossed lover, Sir Rollins would rush to save her, but at what cost?

She was filled with glee at the prospect of doing a binge-read tonight.

Though, the moment her hand touched the book, another hand, slightly larger and tanner, did the same. She slowly turned to the offender, glaring just enough that anyone else would’ve started running. But this man just gave her a small smirk right back. Aelin’s eyes narrowed even more while the hulking brute clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she tried to pull the book toward her. “I need this and since I was here first, I’ll just take that.” She tried to give a harder yank on the book, which was now held between them, to no avail.

“Well, seeing as we got here at the same time, Princess, I don’t think that’s exactly accurate.” He gave a yank in response to hers.

Still holding onto the book like it was her lifeline, Aelin once again narrowed her eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to settle this the old fashioned way.”

“Mhmm and how’s that?” The man rolled his eyes. “Flipping a coin?”

Aelin let out a humorless cackle. “Ha. As if I’d be so stupid. No, we have to have a good, old fashioned ‘who knows it best’ standoff.”

The man scoffed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means…” she paused for dramatic effect. When he raised his eyebrows in annoyance, she continued, “that whoever knows the trivia of the book best gets to keep the book.”

“As if I’d lose.” He had an amused look on his face..too amused. She should’ve known then.

“You’re telling me that you, Mr. Tall and Brutish, think you know this fantasy romance series better than I do?”

“Fantasy Romance has no gender stipulation, Princess. And judging by your attitude, I have a feeling you’d fit right in with Lord Westbrooke’s daughters.”

Aelin gasped. “You little–”

“Uh uh, Princess,” He nodded toward the small child standing at the end of the aisle, watching them with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “There are tiny ears here, no cursing, please.”

Aelin knew her face was turning as red as a tomato. This man was infuriating.

“Fine,” she whisper-yelled. “First question, Buzzard. What did Selena’s sister tell her before she ran off to meet Sir Rollins?”

A smirk crossed his face. “Well, first, I’d ask which sister you’re talking about, since she has two. Nice try tricking me. But Alicent told her that their family would never accept Sir Rollins and Magdalena told her that she’d cover for her and to go be happy.” The man gave her a self-satisfied smirk and Aelin pursed her lips. “My turn next.” The man started tapping his free hand on his chin and she could tell whatever his question was was going to be terrible. “Who is considered the best character in the series?”

“WHAT?! That’s an opinion question! This isn’t even fair!”

“Rules are rules, Princess.”

Aelin’s hand started to shake and a noise of frustration left her mouth. She probably looked like a petulant child but she didn’t care at the moment. This man was done. Even if she didn’t answer his stupid question right in his eyes, she was going to be going home with this book. “The best character in the entire series is obviously Selena. She’s amazing and witty and beautiful. She’s everything anyone could ever want and she’s just…she’s the best.”

The man clicked his tongue a few times, forming a “tsk-ing” sound. “Sorry, but that’s the wrong answer.”

“How can it be a wrong answer if it’s my opinion!?”

“Well, I actually agree with you that Selena is the best but if you remember on page three-hundred and fifty-six of Tulips and Tithona, Lord Westbrooke actually proclaims himself to be the best lord in all the land.” He gave her a smirk that she wanted to absolutely rip off of his face. Or kiss. Wait, what?

This…this absolute bastard. He knew she’d get worked up. And he knew she would get distracted. And knew she’d answer with Selena. With a final burst of strength, she tried to rip the book out of his hands, only serving to cause her to lose her balance and fall straight onto her ass.

“Miss are you okay?” The concerned voice came not from the handsome yet ridiculously terrible man in front of her but from the clerk of the store. She nodded. “Okay, great. Just to let you two know, we’re closing. Please bring anything to the front for purchase.”

She nodded, the silver haired man just standing there, looking at her with a bewildered expression. He reached a hand down to help her up but she chose to just roll her eyes at him. She didn’t need his help. She dusted herself off, leaving the man standing between the stacks and hightailing it out the door. All she wanted was the book, and now she left with a bruised ass and an even more bruised dignity.

She stopped down the street from the shop, ducking into a small alcove and putting her hands over her face. She made such a fool of herself in there and she wasn’t sure how she was going to live it down. Hopefully she would never see the clerk or the man ever again. That shop was now off her list of places to go to.

With a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and started making her way back toward her apartment.

“Miss, wait!” She turned to see the clerk from the store running after her, bag in hand. “You forgot this!”

Aelin gave him a bewildered look. “I didn’t buy anything.”

The man shrugged. “Maybe not, but it was bought for you.” Aelin just stood there as he handed her the bag and jogged back to the shop.

She opened the bag to find the same copy of Peonies and Poplars that she was just fighting over. Did that buzzard just…buy her a copy? She took the beautiful hardcover out of the bag, admiring the golden sprayed edges and embossed flowers on the cover. Opening the front cover, she saw a bright green sticky note on the cover page.

“If you want to talk more about the book, my number is 234-7783. -R”

Directly under the sticky note was a freshly inked autograph, signed R.J. White.

Aelin could only stand there as it sunk in that she just didn’t just fight over a copy of the book. She fought over a copy of the book, with the Author.

A/N: this absolutely will have a second part. I can’t just leave it like that 😜

Tagging:

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

[goddess-aelin]

Putting Out Fires

For Rowaelin Month day 26: taking care of the littles solo

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none!

Alma Whitethorn Galathynius, six years old and eldest of three children (so far), was a beautiful and gentle soul. That is, when she wasn’t being a little hellion. With a strong gift of fire from her mother, Alma inherited the famous Galathynius temper and penchant for “accidentally” setting things on fire. Her four-year-old younger brother, Errin, was no better. While he also had fire powers, they were thankfully much weaker than his sister’s, especially since he also inherited his father’s strong gift of ice and wind, Rowan’s twin. Errin, though, found it funny to chase his sister, hands aflame and ice covering the floors to make it more difficult to run.

And not to mention poor Leven, the newly two-year-old who tried and failed to keep up with his older siblings. Leven, unlike his siblings, had a quiet disposition, contemplative and cool headed. While he wasn’t usually easily upset, his siblings chasing each other with flames certainly put a damper on his mood.

To put it short, Rowan was absolutely, positively exhausted.

Aelin left for Adarlan two weeks ago, hoping to meet with Dorian and Chaol to forge new trade agreements. Rowan had excitedly volunteered to stay home with their children instead of taking part in the courtly bullshit. But he didn’t anticipate that not having Aelin as a buffer would tempt his two oldest into becoming creatures sent by Hellas himself. If only Lorcan could see him right now.

Carrying Leven from his quiet room where the youngster was napping into the chaos of the playroom was like walking into a warzone. Rowan swears his hair was singed by a fireball passing by his head. Putting Leven down, the boy immediately latched onto his leg, not willing to take part in his siblings’ antics. Rowan, however, needed to get this under control…and fast. Otherwise, Aelin would be coming home to nothing but a burnt crisp of a castle.

“What is going on?!” Rowan tried to use his best booming voice, the voice of a commander, but he didn’t do a very good job. His voice came out as a squeak instead since a fireball shot directly toward his head once again, which of course, made Leven clutch his leg harder and tears form in the poor boy's eyes.

Rowan cleared his voice and tried again. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?”

The room went silent except for Leven’s sniffles. Both Alma and Errin’s hands were wreathed in flame, covering their tiny hands like wraps for sparring. A quick once-over of his kids informed Rowan that, luckily, no one seemed to be injured or burned.

Both Alma and Errin just stood there for a moment before spurring back into action. It all happened so fast. One minute, they were standing in front of each other, and the next, Errin’s little hand was holding the drapes. Still on fire.

“No! Don’t set fire to the–” Rowan was cut off by a wave of water dousing the flames. Huh, he thought. That’s new. Both Alma and Errin were frozen, looking bewildered as he felt. As far as he knew, neither Alma nor Errin had water powers, which left… “Oh my Gods!”

Rowan looked to his youngest, still clutching his leg but now with an outstretched little hand. He had an adorable pout on his face and it reminded him so much of Aelin that he could help but let a cackle escape.

Picking his youngest son up, he asked him, “Was that you, buddy? Did you put the fire out?”

Still pouting, Leven nodded. “Water.”

A smile burst over Rowan’s face. “That was amazing! You’re only two and you just put that big fire out!” He tickled his son’s belly and the youngster started giggling. His two older ones made their way over, bashful and embarrassed.

“We’re sorry, Daddy. We were just playing,” his oldest stated.

Bringing his arms around all three of them, he pulled them into a tight hug. “I know, my loves. You just have to be careful, especially inside.” He could feel Alma and Errin lay their heads on his chest and shoulder, Leven still in his arms, holding onto his neck. “I think that finding out Leven has water powers calls for some cake, yes?”

All three of his children started jumping up and down eagerly, having inherited their mother’s love of cake.

Afterwards, the kids were luckily more pliant and subdued, allowing Rowan to give them baths and get them into their nightclothes. With all three of them tucked into bed, Rowan was looking forward to absolutely passing out once he reached his own.

He was almost asleep when the patter of little feet reached his ears. In the doorway was a tiny shadow with long hair: Alma. The small girl crossed the room to where Rowan was laying and crawled her way up onto the massive bed.

“Daddy,” she whispered. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

As he sat up and started rubbing her back, he replied, “Did you have a nightmare?”

The little one shook her head. “No, I just missed you.” Rowan’s heart melted at that though he couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as he pulled his daughter into his arms.

“You just saw me five minutes ago, little bird.”

“But I miss Mommy, too. And I want to sleep in here.” She crossed her arms and pouted, Aelin through and through.

“Okay, okay. You can sleep in here. But you have to sleep, okay? No playing.”

“Okay, Daddy! I’ll sleep, don’t you worry.”

Rowan made to lay back down but instead of resting next to him, Alma hopped off the bed and padded once again toward the door. Like a tiny mother with her little ducklings following behind, three figures now walked toward his bed. One by one, his children climbed up onto the bed and tucked themselves in beside him. Leven, only two and still fairly small yet, couldn’t reach the bed himself so Rowan hauled him up.

“I don’t think I remember agreeing to having three little birds in my bed.” A chorus of giggles broke out. Soon enough, though, his children’s light snores reached his ears and lulled him to sleep.

- - - - -

Something woke Rowan the next morning, though it was still before dawn. As his bleary eyes sharpened, a familiar figure was standing by the side of the bed, taking in the scene.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “You’re home.”

She bent down to kiss him, short and sweet though not without feeling. “I’m home.” Her gaze turned to their three little ones snuggled up against Rowan. “And why is everyone in my bed?”

Rowan let out a soft chuckle. “The little masterminds formed a plan and ganged up on me to sleep here. I didn’t know you’d be back yet. I can move them.”

Aelin shook her head. “No, leave them be. I’ll snuggle in on the other side.”

Moments later, their three children were sandwiched between the two of them.

“Soon we won’t be able to fit all of them in here.”

Rowan gave her a knowing smile. They hadn’t told the kids yet that Aelin was expecting another sibling again but he knew they’d all be overjoyed at the prospect of another baby to spoil and scheme with. Rowan reached his hand to rest on Errin’s back, sleeping in the middle. Aelin’s covered his moments later and Rowan couldn’t help but thinking he was so godsdamned lucky.

A/N: I’m slacking so hard on the prompts this past week but I’m hoping to get some out after this month is over! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging:

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

[goddess-aelin]

I’m Swooning

This was perfect 😭 I love this series so much

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 29

~ Firsts (date/kiss/time/child/etc) ~

Look what's back! I'm not going to ruin the surprise by telling you what first this is, but I hope you enjoy it. As always, this one AU comes with an 18 + warning for smut.

I Wish You Would Masterlist

~~~~~

“Close your eyes.”

The words were whispered by her ear and the sentiments encouraged with a kiss right below it. Aelin shivered, her skin pebbling from the gentle caress of breath and the anticipation of what would happen if she did as Rowan asked. He kissed her again, this time her neck, over and over until Aelin couldn’t help but sigh. 

Then Rowan rose over her, leaning in close enough for lips to brush but not quite kiss. “Come on, love.”

“What do I get?” Aelin’s hand ran over his bare shoulder, stopping when she reached the edge of his hair. They were both utterly bare, a sheet haphazardly draped wherever it pleased. They were spending a lazy, mid week morning in bed. Aelin had edits to do but Rowan was on that blessed sabbatical between books. He had the time, Aelin didn’t, but she wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to waste away some an hour or so under Rowan’s undivided attention. 

“That’s for me to know,” a sweet kiss that left her wanting more. “And for you to find out.”

With one final look into Rowan’s green eyes, Aelin finally did as he requested. The world dimmed and she frowned when every remnant of Rowan vanished. She didn’t like this and missed the closeness of his body. Maybe if she just took the tiniest peek she could find him, touch him.

“If you open your eyes, you’ll get nothing until tonight,” Rowan told her, like he was able to read her mind. 

“Bastard,” she huffed, making her boyfriend chuckle. 

Patience was not a virtue Aelin possessed, but it seemed Rowan wanted to play a game. She would try and have some to go along with it for him, she was gracious like that. There was shuffling of sheets and then the world dimmed just a little more. She could sense that Rowan was braced above her and still not touching her. Aelin was about to demand he do something when there was a ghost of a breath on her neck. Instantly every sense went on high alert as anticipation took over. There was a featherlight brush of Rowan’s lips over her pulse and then the fingers that tickled through the valley of her breasts nearly made her jump. As he laughed Rowan kissed her. When he pulled away Aelin chased after him, but she didn’t open her eyes. She wasn’t looking to ruin his amusement, she knew he was having fun.

“Stay still, Aelin,” Rowan said.

She knew she was in for it now. There was a smiling edge to his voice. Aelin tried to relax into the mattress, it was hard to do while trying to predict what Rowan would do next. He dragged his fingers the same path that they’d travelled before, right down the centre of her chest. Rowan did that a few times, then added his thumb to sweep over the curve of her breast. That teasing touch had Aelin humming her approval and in the hope that it would encourage him to do more. It did, and Rowan returned to her neck, kissing and nipping. Aelin fisted her hands in the sheets to prevent her from breaking Rowan’s command. Then his hand was moving downward, making long sweeps and getting a little lower each time. This was an exercise in perseverance and Aelin was holding on by a thread. Especially when his fingers dipped even lower finally about to graze over—

The sound of the door bell had Aelin’s eyes snapping open, finding Rowan already looking at her. 

“Leave it,” Aelin said, hips pushing up to encourage Rowan to keep going. 

“It’s probably my author’s copy.” Rowan sounded pained. “I can’t.”

The bell rang again and Rowan swore. He was in no state to answer the door, the person making the delivery would cop quite the eyeful. Aelin growled, rolling out of bed and grabbing a t-shirt.

“What are you doing?” Rowan asked. 

Aelin yanked the shirt so that her head popped out of the collar. “You can’t answer the door, you’ll take someone’s eye out with that thing.” 

She pointed to his raging erection, leaving him laughing as she hurried to the door. Rowan lived in a tidy little town house but it was still a race to the front door—Aelin nearly tripped rushing down the stairs. Opening the front door she saw the postie was returning to his bike, Rowan’s package in hand. 

“Wait!” She called out, darting down the three concrete steps of the porch.

The postman turned, and their eyes went wide. It was very easy to piece together what had kept Aelin inside so long. Dressed in a man’s shirt, hair a mess, and she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a hickey on her neck. 

“Just sign here,” the postie said, politely averting his eyes. 

Aelin took the device and scribbled away on the little screen and then was handed the package. It looked like Rowan was right judging by the weight and shape of it. This was his copy of his brand spanking new book. Aelin pulled the hem of her borrowed shirt down when she got to the steps, making sure her ass was covered as she nearly bounded back to the front door. She loved it when her new books arrived, it was always a thrill to see a story printed and bound. It was safe to assume Rowan would feel the same. 

Shutting the front door with her foot, Aelin turned the package over in her hands. Rowan had been very secretive about this book and it had her curious as to what was hiding inside. When she got to the top of the landing she pulled the tab, ripping the cardboard packaging down the side. She almost reached in and pulled the entire book out, but in the end she stopped herself. Receiving an author's copy was sacred and even though she was nosy and maybe a little obnoxious, Aelin wouldn’t take this moment away from him. 

Aelin stepped into Rowan’s bedroom, the morning light giving it a soft, warm glow. He was still lying in bed, gloriously naked and smiling at her. 

“Your book came,” Aelin said, waving the package in her hand. 

Rowan sat up a little bit. “How do you know?”

Aelin shrugged as she sat on the bed. “I may have had a tiny peek.”

“You opened my book?” There was an unexpected edge to his voice but Aelin supposed she deserved it. 

She handed him the book but he was already pulling it from her hand, looking slightly panicked for no apparent reason. 

“I did think about opening it, but,” Aelin gave an apologetic grimace. “Author sense kicked in and I thought better of it.”

Rowan shot her a chiding look and just straight up ripped open the rest of the cardboard packaging in two. Aelin watched intently, seeing a red cover and a hint of gold lettering. The book fell open in his hands and he thumbed through until he got to the front pages. His eyes darted over the words and judging from where in the book he was Aelin assumed it was the dedication page or maybe the table of contents. Rowan snapped the book shut, flipping round so that it faced Aelin the right way up. 

“Have a look,” he told her. 

Aelin took the book without taking her eyes off the man in front of her. There was something going here and she had no idea what it was. She was the schemer, and she felt out of her depth when it was turned on her. Her fingers ran over the embossed cover, tracing of the elegant design Rowan had chosen. The title was The Flame Princess, and it looked like it wasn’t related to any of his previous works. Aelin started at the beginning, reading the title page, glancing over the publishing information, the list of other books Rowan had written. And then she got to the dedication.

For Aelin. I love you. To whatever end.

Aelin’s heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears. Eight words had altered her world just like that, and she read them over and over until she knew each letter by heart. Rowan had a way with words, it was what made him such a good writer. But flowery words weren’t needed here, because as the man that held her heart this is who he was. Open and direct, an honest man who wanted to tell the whole world how he felt. The simplicity took nothing away from the sentiments. It was perfect. 

“You love me,” Aelin said, her cheeks aching from her wide smile. 

“I do, Aelin,” Rowan said, bringing himself level with her face. “And I want the whole world to know it.”

She looked back down at the book, the page blurring as her eyes misted over. Her fingers ran over the words, this moment would live in her memories forever. Aelin knew that she loved him back, she had just been searching for the right time to tell him. Nothing seemed right and thank Mala she had waited so that they could have this moment instead. Looking up and blinking away the tears Aelin found Rowan watching her, something shy about his expression. Aelin put the book on the nightstand with reverence, leaving her hands free to cup his face. 

“I love you, too,” she told him, her heart leaping at the blinding smile Rowan gave her. “How could I not, when you’re ready to declare it to the whole world.”

“Aelin.”

Her name was the only warning before Rowan pounced, easily pulling her beneath him. Aelin had kept her hands on his cheeks and used that leverage to bring him down for a kiss. With every caress of their lips the words were reiterated.

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

But Aelin couldn’t resist, she had to say it aloud again. “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn.”

Rowan brushed their noses together. “I love you, Aelin Galathynius. To whatever end.”

Hearing those words Aelin’s heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. She would never tire of hearing it. 

“Now,” Rowan said with a brazen smile. “Where were we?”

“Oh, gods.” Aelin choked out. He wasted no time, Rowan took up exactly where they had left off.

His fingers slid to her very centre before dragging up to her clit. Aelin’s moan shuddered out of her, Rowan swallowing the sounds. He teased her, driving her mad because he withheld just enough to keep her on the edge of release. He relented, just a little, but not enough. 

Rowan’s fingers played at her entrance and his thumb pressed down on her clit, making her ache for him in the best way. 

“Rowan,” her voice was a breathless whisper. “I wanna come.”

Aelin was impressed that she managed to get the words out her brain was so frazzled. Rowan adding a finger inside her didn’t help the matter. 

“But where, Aelin?” Rowan’s mouth was an insistent weight on her neck.

“What?” She asked, hips moving in time with his taunting fingers.

“Where do you want to come?” Rowan kissed the hollow of Aelin’s throat, downward to the centre of her chest, and then she whimpered embarrassingly when his teeth closed over a taut nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

Aelin wondered why and hated that she was still dressed, what a disaster. Without the godsdamned she would be able to feel Rowan's teeth and the warmth of his mouth. 

“Aelin,” Rowan said, his thumb circling the nerves at the apex of her thighs, like that could wring an answer from her. 

And through some miracle it did. 

“Your cock, Rowan,” Aelin decided. “I want you inside me. Please.”

Rowan gave her a single kiss. “Anything for the woman I love.”

When Rowan drew back to get a condom Aelin took the opportunity to get rid of the t-shirt. She flopped back onto the pillows, waiting, knowing that Rowan loved her like this. Naked and sprawled in his bed. Foil tore and Rowan rolled the condom on himself while Aelin slid a leg either side of him. She watched as his gaze darkened further as he took in every part of her that was on display. His hands started at her ankles, then pressed their way up her body, touching and feeling everywhere that had fire sparking in her blood. 

They were eye to eye now, and Aelin draped her arms over his shoulders and back. “You love me? Then show me.”

“I’ll fuck you so well it’s the only thing you remember,” Rowan said. 

Before Aelin could think of some smartass remark to make in return, Rowan rolled his hips and pushed into her until he had nothing left to give. She moaned his name before he started moving and intelligible words were beyond her. Rowan’s thrusts were slow but thorough, her body shuddering with each one. Aelin clung to him, one hand buried in his hair and the other clawed into his back. 

“I love you,” Rowan whispered harshly, his voice giving away that he was just as wrecked as she was. “You are it for me, Aelin. I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

“Oh, Rowan,” Aelin gasped. “I love you so much.”

“Are you close, Aelin?” He asked. “Is that the only thing you remember? My name and that you love me?”

“Yes, Rowan—” Aelin moaned as her body surrendered to the feel of him. “I love you.”

Rowan groaned and her core pulsed, her release right there, just out of reach. His hand coasted over her body until it reached her thigh. Rowan’s fingers splayed in a broad grip, slanting their bodies together so he hit deeper. 

With absolute tenderness, Rowan kissed her. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I want to hear you say that forever.”

Gentle was not what Aelin wanted right now, even as her heart flipped in her chest. “Harder, I need it,” she begged.

Rowan gave it to her. He angled his hips to apply the right kind of pressure where she needed it. Each thrust was precise and only took a few more before Aelin was breaking apart. She came, moaning from deep in her throat and then the babbling took over. 

“I love you, I love you,” Aelin repeated the words over and over until her racing heart began to slow. 

Rowan’s hips stilled and he groaned into Aelin’s neck. They both went limp, Rowan had the care to roll off her before he collapsed completely. Aelin wasn’t so gracious. She twisted so that she lay on him, her ear pressed right over his heart. A heart that belonged to her. Aelin kissed Rowan’s bare skin, feeling the flushed warmth on her lips. His hand found its way to her hair, brushing it aside so he could see her properly. 

Aelin looked up at her boyfriend, her very handsome boyfriend who loved her. She couldn’t wait until his new book came out and all his readers could see those words and know what a wonderful man she had the privilege of calling her own. It might even deter some of the more avid fangirls. That thought made her laugh, and she tried to muffle the sound on Rowan’s chest. 

“What is it?” He asked, a thumb grazing over her cheek. 

“When that book comes out you’re going to break some hearts,” Aelin told him. 

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

Aelin propped herself up on his chest, tracing the patterns of his tattoos. “Because you love me, and just me. All those girls who have been fawning over you will finally know where your heart lies.”

Rowan chuckled, catching her hand and laying it over said heart. “With you.”

“Just so you know, I won’t be outdone by this, your little declaration,” Aelin said. “I’ll have to think of something more… something better.”

“I look forward to it,” Rowan said, sounding all too pleased by the challenge she had set herself. “So. Through my words and deeds, have I given you sufficient declarations of my love for you?”

Aelin pushed herself up and brushed back Rowan’s hair, contemplating her answer. Then she smirked at him before she kissed him deeply, leaving him breathless when she broke away just enough to give him her answer. “Not quite yet, I think I need a few more. Just to be sure.”

~~~~~

These two make me so happy

@rowaelinscourt

[goddess-aelin]

Accidents Happen

For Rowaelin Month Day 2

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: having a bad day

Rowan Whitethorn planned to start his day like he always did, a cup of coffee in hand and no ambition to be more social. And then his coffee machine had to take a crap and his need for caffeine outweighed his social aversion, especially if he was supposed to deal with his hellion of a boss. Working from home had its perks, he supposed, especially since it gave him time before his 9AM meeting to run down to the corner coffee shop and pick up a fresh cup of coffee. That didn’t mean that he particularly wanted to put pants on and trudge the block to the overstuffed cafe.

But he did it anyway. Ten minutes later, wearing the comfiest sweatpants he could find and bringing nothing but his wallet and his phone, Rowan was standing in the ridiculously long line winding throughout the tiny cafe. The smell of fresh grounds was inviting even if the amount of people was not. The cafe had a certain charm, though. The mismatched chairs and exposed brick walls featuring art from local artists made Rowan not mind the crowd as much.

When it was his turn, he gave his order, left a generous tip, and stood to the side to wait for his drink to be called. Luckily, the wait time was short and just for that simple fact, Rowan fished out a few more dollars and threw them in the tip jar. These poor college kids probably weren’t getting paid as well as they should have been considering the way they were working their asses off.

Wrapped up in the contentment of finally having the familiar warmth of a coffee in his hand, Rowan completely missed the blonde woman standing behind him. Naturally, when he turned, he walked right into her. And so, apparently, did his coffee. All Rowan could do was watch with widened eyes and an apology on his lips as the stain gradually spread down the front of the woman’s white shirt. Rowan slowly brought his gaze up to meet hers, her turquoise eyes enrapturing him from the first glimpse. Well, fuck. Not only did he spill his coffee on a poor, innocent bystander, but she just happened to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, too.

Even Rowan’s distraction couldn’t hide the simmering anger the woman was barely containing.

“I am so–”

The woman cut him off by holding a single hand up, palm toward him. The woman repeated the gesture again, giving a slight pushing motion to her hand to make him back away slightly. She left without another word. And Rowan, well, Rowan was confused as hell.

A very sweet employee took the now empty coffee cup from his hand, throwing it in the trash and already beginning to mop up the mess he made. Rowan felt helpless though he mostly felt terrible for the victim. Hopefully none of the coffee got on the woman’s skin given how scalding the liquid had been.

A quick glance to the line told Rowan that, no, he would not have time to reorder another cup. His meeting was in less than 15 minutes and he had to get back to his apartment. Rowan pushed through the crowd that amassed toward the door, avoiding the spill he caused, and left through the exit. He started making his way back to his apartment. Correction. He would have started making his way to his apartment had a sobbing sound not hit his ears.

Sure enough, the woman from the cafe was huddled on the edge of the sidewalk about 10 feet away from the coffee shop, her bag laying haphazardly next to her and her heels kicked off. If Rowan was a normal person, he would have walked right by her and got to his meeting on time. But Rowan was, well, Rowan, and his guilty conscience would not allow that.

He shot off a quick text to his boss, telling her he would be a few minutes late because of an emergency and stepped up to the still-sobbing woman. What was the best way to approach her? A ‘hey are you okay?’ seemed to be obviously wrong and tapping her on the shoulder was a big no considering he already felt like he violated her space enough today.

In the end, he settled for a simple, “Excuse me.”

The woman turned her head, her now red-rimmed eyes glancing up to him. Once she realized who he was, she let out a huff of breath and he could have sworn she rolled her eyes before putting her face back into her hands.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean for that to happen in there.” Though she didn’t answer him right away, her breathing at least slowed and her hands dropped away from her face. He took that as a good sign. Once again, he thought that normal people probably would’ve given up and walked away. But he caused this. And he would not be the reason someone was crying on the sidewalk, at least not without trying to fix it.

Maybe he was overstepping and maybe he’d regret it later, but he decided to take a seat next to her a few feet away.

“I…the coffee didn’t burn you, did it?”

The woman gave him a wary glance but after a few seconds, shook her head ‘no.’

“Is there anything I can do to help you? I can run and get you a new coffee or napkins or...if you need–”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. She cleared it a few times before attempting to speak again. “It’s just been a bad day. Bad week.” She let out a humorless laugh.

The wheels in Rowan’s brain started turning. “Wait here.” He held his hands up in supplication while getting up from the curb. “Just…wait here. Please.” He gave a half smile before running back inside. To his delight, the line had gone down considerably and he only waited a few minutes to reorder. The barista remembered his order from a few minutes before and also, luckily, remembered the woman’s order, as well. He threw in a few pastries for good measure and was on his way back out the door in no time.

To his relief, the woman was still outside, though she moved to the bench a few feet down the sidewalk. Her eyebrows raised slightly as she noticed him coming back with more than a few treats.

“This is for you,” Rowan said as he passed her the large coffee cup that smelled like it had way too much sugar in it. Once she took it, he opened the bag of pastries, their sweet aroma wafting toward the woman, whose eyebrows only went higher.

“I know you still have the stain on your shirt but I hope this at least helps make your day a little less…terrible. I really am sorry.” After a few moments of the woman still not saying anything, he started to get up and make his way back home.

“Wait!”

Rowan turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Why?” The question was barely a whisper. “Why would you do this for me?”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Because I was the cause of this. I spilled my entire coffee cup on you. The least I owe you is a new cup and maybe some money for dry cleaning.” She huffed a laugh at that.

“You don’t owe me anything. It was an accident, one that was just the icing on the cake of a very long, very stressful week.” She shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

Rowan slowly sat back down on the bench. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, the woman’s brows furrowed and confusion crossed her face.

“You want to listen to me talk about my problems?”

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to. It just seems like you might need a listening ear.” He shrugged.

“ O…kay. Well it started when I found my boyfriend in bed with my boss.”

Rowan almost spit out his coffee. His eyes slowly gazed toward her and he noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “What a way to start a story. Seriously?!”

The smile that crossed her face did…funny things to his insides to say the least. “Technically that happened a few months ago but I did run into him on Monday, which started all these terrible events. Then my cousin, who was visiting for a while, left to go back to Caraverre, my new boss is turning out to be a total creep, I got gum stuck in my hair from someone on the train and had to have an impromptu haircut, and well…here we are.”

“Gods. I’m so fucking sorry.” Rowan couldn’t help the guilt that washed over him.

“Don’t be. It really wasn’t your fault.” She started to get up, Rowan following suit. “Well, I guess that I should get going considering I have to stop at home before going into work.” Rowan gave her a sheepish look. “Thanks for the coffee and muffins…and for listening. You know, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Rowan.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

“Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he repeated. He liked the way her name easily rolled off of his tongue.

“Well, Rowan, this may be presumptuous of me but would you maybe…want to meet up sometime? You know, if me word vomiting my baggage didn’t scare you off.” A slow smile crossed Rowan’s face.

“You didn’t scare me off. If anything, it should be you who’s scared off, what with spilling my coffee all over you. “ He gave her a sideways smile. “But yes, I absolutely would love to meet up again.” She gave him another one of those room-lighting smiles.

After exchanging numbers and going their separate ways, Rowan couldn’t help but walk toward his apartment with a little pep in his step. He was definitely about to get an earful from his boss about being late but it occurred to him that he didn’t really care. Not when the reason he was late was so worth it.

A/N: My writing is a little bit rusty but I hope this was fluffy enough that it makes up for it! I have a few other fics planned and I’m hoping that this productive streak continues

Tagging:

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

[goddess-aelin]

Crumpled

Written for day 14 of Rowaelin Month: making up/breaking up after an argument @rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: angst, breakup (with happy ending)

A knock startled Rowan out of the trance he had been in for the last 30 minutes. From the moment he got the text, Rowan couldn’t help but have a plethora of nervous energy and dread. He kept replaying their fight in his head, wondering how in the hell they got here.

Here as in Aelin coming to collect her things from his apartment. Here as in they weren’t a couple anymore. Here as in he was missing half of his heart.

He steeled himself before opening the door, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the stampede trampling over his heart. It would be the first time he’d seen or talked to her in a week, not for lack of trying. He texted her, practically begging her to talk, asking for her to explain why. He left a handful of voicemails that he hoped weren’t too pathetic, asking how they got to this point. Yet she never answered.

Hadn’t answered until 30 minutes ago when she asked if she could collect the clothing she stashed at his apartment. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, without his heart completely shattering into a million pieces. Three years they were together, gone in the blink of an eye. So he replied with a simple “ok,” and left it at that.

And now here he was, standing at his door, trying to decide what to say, how to act. The knock came again and he knew he couldn’t ignore it. She startled when he ripped open the door with more force than he wanted, her bloodshot eyes going wide at the sight of his dishevelment.

Gone was the emotion from a moment ago as her face morphed into one of cool detachment. It gave him some sort of peace knowing that she was struggling just as much as he was. She breezed through his front door the same way she breezed through his life, a tornado caught in the golden sun.

“May I?” Her voice was raspy when she spoke. He just gestured to his bedroom with a hand, leaving her to her own devices. He decided to take a seat on the couch, the one that they chose together. Because that’s how it was supposed to be. They were a team. Until they weren’t.

Rowan replayed that night in his head a thousand times and he still didn’t know what he could’ve done to fix this. It seemed that the universe just thought the breakup was inevitable, Aelin not listening to anything he had to say.

It began when he started working extra hours and picking up shifts. He didn’t think it was a problem because he was working towards something. Aelin made him think of their future and everything that came with it; a family, a house, a dog, everything and anything. So he started working more so that when those things were finally in reach, they could be easy, attainable. He wouldn't have to work as many hours to keep up with their mortgage and instead would be able to spend more time with Aelin, with their kids and their pets. But in planning for the future, it seems he neglected to account for the present.

A week ago to the day, when he got home from one of his long shifts, Aelin was sitting stoically on the couch. She didn’t greet him with her normal cheery “hello,” didn’t give him a kiss, just sat silently. When he asked her what was wrong, she asked him if he even loved her anymore. Rowan was so taken aback that he acted out of anger, snapping and asking her how she could ever even think that. He was so irrevocably in love with her that it hurt him to even think that she didn’t feel that from him.

Instead of trying to talk it out, though, she replied with a small “I can’t do this anymore.” Rowan was sure that if his heart was outside of his body, he could’ve seen the cracks splintering through like broken glass. He tried so hard to get her to stay, to tell her that he was working so much because she was the only future he could see. That she deserved everything that he wasn’t able to currently give her given his shitty job with shitty pay. But instead, tears streaming down her face, she slammed the door and left.

Again and again, Rowan called. He texted. He ruminated on where things when so, incredibly wrong. He knew he wasn’t home often and he knew he wasn’t the most fun to be around after a 14 hour shift and he knew he was acting weird out of anxiety and stress. But he thought they were okay, that they just had to get through the next few months and everything would be fine.

He was wrong.

Sitting on the couch, head hanging in his hands, he was so wrapped up in what he should’ve done differently that he didn’t hear the rustling coming from his room stop. Didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath. Didn’t hear the soft padding down the hall until her socks were sliding onto the rug.

He glanced up at her, not able to fully meet her eyes. He knew his own were red and teary and he didn’t need to give away more than he had to. But his eyes didn’t need to roam that far, catching on the small box Aelin held delicately in her hands. His mind went blank. She wasn’t supposed to find out like this. He had it hidden in a sock in his dresser but in the past week, he took it out too many times, just to stare at it and grieve for what should have been. He supposed that probably made him a masochist.

Her bottom lip quivered and her voice was small when she finally spoke. “It all makes sense, now.” She opened the box, a glint of gold and green catching. “It all…it all makes sense.” And then she crumpled.

Rowan’s heart broke even more to see the love of his life hunched over herself on the floor, tears streaming down her face and sobs wracking her body. He approached slowly, as if making too much noise would scare her away. Kneeling before her, he took her hands and pulled them gently away from her face.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “Fireheart. I’m so, so sorry.” And then he broke, too. When he pulled her to him, she held him like a lifeline, as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat on a raging sea. Together, they knelt on the ugly rug Aelin always wanted to get rid of, sobbing until their tears ran out.

“Rowan, I'm so sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I shouldn’t have left or gotten mad. I should–”

He stopped her with his hands on her cheeks. “Stop. We both fucked up, okay? I was working way too much, trying to prepare for the future and in doing so, I forgot to leave time for the now, for you.” She shook her head, starting to protest but he cut her off. “No, I should never have put money and security as a priority over you.” Bringing his forehead to hers, he breathed her in.

“I should’ve listened to you, though. You were trying to save money for this.” She opened the small box once again, more tears forming. “And I was so caught up in the what ifs that I couldn’t see why you were working more, or why you were acting weird. I thought…I thought maybe you had found someone else or were tired of me.”

“Never. I could never, ever get tired of you. You’re it for me, Fireheart.” She sobbed again, burying her face into his chest. He held her tightly, hoping to convey everything he felt about her.

“I’ll make you a deal, no more working long hours as long as you talk to me whenever you feel like this, okay? I…I never want you to feel like you’re second place. You’re more important than anything and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that wasn’t true.”

She pulled back, her teary, red eyes doing nothing to stifle the beauty that she radiated. “Deal.” Bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. They had a lot to work through but he knew they could do it, together.

A/N: wow this was the angstiest thing I’ve ever written and I never want to do it again, thanks

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

[goddess-aelin]

Friends Don’t Fall In Love

For Rowaelin Month day 4: Friends Don’t Do This

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: we got a little angsty up in here. But happy ending, I promise!

It started as a typical night, the night that Aelin’s world came crashing down. She’d been out with her friends, huddled together in one of the sticky red booths that dotted the crappy dive bar in their college town. She was two drinks in when he decided to make the announcement that would change everything.

They were graduating in a month, of course Aelin realized that. She realized that they probably would all go somewhat separate ways. But she always thought they’d all stay in Terrasen even if it was in different cities. Aelin already had a job lined up in Orynth, the biggest publishing firm in the country already hiring her for a paid internship as soon as she graduated. Elide was going back to her home in Perranth and wherever she went, Lorcan was sure to follow. Lysandra found out she had some family in Caraverre and always wanted to visit, though she wasn’t sure about after that. Aedion would be working for her families firm, Galathynius Enterprises, in their marketing division and, even though he hadn’t admitted it yet, would probably be spending most of his weekends in Caraverre. Fen was a wild card. She wasn’t sure what his plans were but she was sure they’d be dramatic and exciting.

And that left him. She always thought that as her best friend, they were a package deal. She thought that he would be coming to Orynth with her, working at the Terrasen National Museum while getting his masters and eventual PhD in Historical Artifacts. He once told her that Terrasenian history was some of the most interesting he’d ever studied and that’s why he came to Allsbrook for college. That had been all he could talk about for the last few months.

So why was he all of a sudden saying that he accepted a two year position as a research assistant in Wendlyn? Not only was it a different country, but it was across the damn sea. It’s not like she could drive to him or even call him late at night when she was going to bed. Because by that time, it’d be early in the morning for him and he’d be living his best life as a Wendlynite. He’d forget all about her, she knew.

Even though Lysandra and Elide were moving away, it didn’t bother her as much as it did with him. He was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to always be there for her, her partner in crime with whatever came their way. He hadn’t even told her he was looking elsewhere. Maybe she didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, after all.

The thought sent a pang of hurt that ran deeper than she wanted to acknowledge in the middle of a dive bar.

Of course, she knew she was in love with him. She would have been an idiot not to have realized that her stomach flipped every time he walked into the room. That every time he held her hand, she wished it wasn’t in comfort or reassurance but rather because he simply wanted to. That she wanted to kiss him so badly that sometimes the ache was unbearable.

But it didn’t matter. Because he was moving away. He would start a new life in Wendlyn, where the weather was always warm and he didn’t have to worry about commuting in the snow. Where the people were known for their friendliness and the women for their beauty. Where he was only two hours away from the family he grew up with.

Why would he want to come back here after the two years were up? She sure as hell wouldn’t blame him for staying.

A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol washed over her. It was all she could do to not hurl her guts up on the table that was surrounded by her friends. She could feel Lysandra’s side-eyed gaze burning a hole into her face. She could feel Elide’s pity. She could feel that he was starting to wonder why she hadn’t said anything after his announcement.

She felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. She just needed to get home, throw up, take a shower, and cry it all out. That’s what she told herself, at least. Then she’d be over him. She’d make peace with him being a passing ship in her life and nothing more. She had to.

She rose from the table, not meeting his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, guys. I’m going to head out. I’ll call an Uber, don’t worry.” Her voice shook even though she tried her damndest to procure some sort of levity from the pit growing in her stomach. She met Lysandra’s gaze, who gave her a sad, knowing smile. And with a wave, she walked out the door.

Once outside, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths of the still-cool Terrasen air. It was April yet it still felt like winter. Point to Wendlyn. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts so she could call her Uber. The alcohol certainly wasn’t helping her coordination as she tried to type her address into the search bar but ended up dropping her phone. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and her vision started to blur from the quickly swelling liquid.

Before she could bend down to pick up her phone, a familiar hand was in front of her, holding her phone.

“Rowan!” Her hand flew to her chest, “Gods, I didn’t see you!” She went to grab her phone from his grip yet he held the device like his life depended on it.

“Fireheart, what's wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to wrap around her back to pull her into a hug.

She shimmied away.

His brows furrowed. “Did I…did I do something?”

Her vision was starting to blur even more but the only thing she could do was shake her head.

“What can I do? Do you really not feel well? Or I can just get my keys and–”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but it was all too much. “No,” she tried again, this time voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t need help. I just…I just want to go home.”

“Let me drive you. You were out of there before I could even offer. I’m ready to call it a night anyway.” He was trying to get her to smile but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Please don’t. Please.” She turned away from him, hoping that he couldn’t see how badly she was hurt. She never should have let him in, never should have come to rely on him so much that even the thought of him being taken away from her left her without any air to breathe.

The stubborn ass rounded to the front of her, placing a hand under her chin to bring her gaze up to his. “Fireheart, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

She jerked out of his grip again, noticing the hurt that crossed his face. The hurt, vindictive part of her was pleased that perhaps he feel even a fraction of the hurt she was. But the better part of her, the one that was wholly in love with him, hated the way she was being with him. She never, ever wanted to hurt him in any way.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes were wide and she would’ve thought he was a statue for how still he was standing. “I wanted…wanted to surprise you. I didn’t even know if I’d get the job since they only hire two people in the entire world every year. My shot was pretty slim and I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of it. I thought the plan was to come to Orynth?”

“It was. It still is. This is temporary, only two years. I’ll be back before you know it. Is that why you’re so upset?”

She shook her head. “You got the job because you’re amazing. Because they’d be stupid not to hire someone as smart and passionate as you are. And in turn, they’d be stupid not to offer you a permanent position after the two years are up. Can you honestly tell me that there is a 100% chance of you coming back here after the two years are up if you’re offered a position?”

“Well–I…no? Nothing is ever 100%. But the plan is still to come back here.” His voice was getting desperate and she could tell frustration was taking over. They were going around in circles and everything Aelin wanted to say to him all these years was finally coming out- just not in the way she wanted.

“You’re close to your family, Rowan. You’ll have beautiful weather, beautiful views, new friends.” At the last part, his brow furrowed.

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to make new friends and just drop you?”

“I–yes. No! I don’t know!” She felt like crying again, the intensity of the need to just scream building and building. She knew it would come out soon, one way or another.

“I thought you’d be happy for me! I’ll still text you and call you. I’ll come visit, of course. I’m not dropping off the face of the earth!”

“I am happy for you!”

“Then why are you so upset!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, you asshole!” And there it was. The floodgates finally opened, the final plank that boarded up her heart broke completely. While the feeling of her heart breaking was awful, she also felt like a weight was released. She only had the energy to whisper a repeated, “I love you.”

Rowan stood there, frozen and mouth gaping. It looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Didn’t know how. She knew rejection when she saw it. At least it was out there, at least she wouldn’t let him go knowing that she had hidden something so amazing and terrifying and beautiful from him. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Aelin hardened her gaze after a few moments of no-reply. “Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake. I’ll get over it.”

At that, Rowan seemed to awaken. And he looked angry. “Falling in love is not a mistake.”

“It is when it was with you. Friends don’t do this.”

“Then I guess I’ve been making a mistake the last four fucking years, Aelin!” She swore her heart stopped. “Because I’ve been in love with you since you sat next to me in Freshman Seminar and opened your damn mouth. And I never dreamed that you felt the same way. You never gave any indication that you felt the same way.”

She scoffed. “I flirted with you all the time.”

“You’re flirty with all of your friends. We’re best friends. It’s just what we do, how we are. And I was fine with that. With thinking that you never returned my feelings. Even if it hurts like hell all the damn time.”

They both were silent for what seemed like hours. She didn’t realize how close they had gotten. If they were the same height, their noses would probably be touching. Rowan seemed to realize it at the same moment because he took a small step back. But to her surprise, he brought his hands up to cup her face. With a gentleness that made her heart want to explode, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Fireheart. I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue to love you for many more. You have to know that. It’s only you.”

Tears were freely flowing down her face and she wasn’t ashamed. Gently, slowly, she brought her lips to meet his. The kiss was sweet and exploratory, no heat or passion. No, this kiss was meant to heal, to shape, to show how much they cared. How much they loved.

“I love you, Rowan.”

He pulled her into a hug that felt like it slowly mended her back together. For the first time in a while, she was absolutely content. She had nowhere to be other than in this moment, in the arms she felt safest in. He was her home and perhaps that’s why she reacted so badly to his news. Gods. She was an ass.

“I’m so sorry.” She broke the tight embrace so she could meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I am happy for you. Gods, I’m so damn proud of you. I always knew you could do anything you ever dreamed of.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you said what you did.” He cupped her face once more to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m going to Wendlyn. I’m going to call you every damn day and visit as often as I can. We are going to make it work and it will work because it’s us and we’re inevitable. And when the two years are up, I’m coming back home. To you, Fireheart.”

The smile he gave her was so sweet she could have melted into a puddle.

A slow half smile crossed his face. “Ask me what I’m researching in Wendlyn.”

She was confused at the abrupt change but decided to play along. “What are you researching in Wendlyn, research assistant Whitethorn?”

He chuckled and brought his lips close enough to hers to share breath as he whispered, “Terrasenian artifacts that somehow ended up in Wendlyn’s museum.” Oh. Oh. “The plan was always to come home, Fireheart.”

A fresh wave of tears poured over her as she buried her face in his chest. “I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He chuckled again and placed a few kisses to her hair, her forehead, her nose, and finally, her lips.

“Just think Aelin, you always wanted to visit Wendlyn and now you’ll have the perfect reason to.”

“I think maybe you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here. I’m only coming to visit Wendlyn for the fabulous food.”

“Mmhm, says the woman who just confessed her undying love for me in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could hear. Keep telling yourself that.”

She loved when the playful side of Rowan came out. “Hmm, I don’t think those were quite the words I used.”

“Close enough.”

She laughed as he brought her face to meet his once more. Maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn’t such a bad idea.

A/N: Me?? Writing a bit of angst!??? I know, it’s a shocker but I couldn’t end it badly. They needed to have a happy ending.

Tagging:

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

[goddess-aelin]

My Place in the Tidal Waves-Prologue

Rowaelin month day 6: forced proximity

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: talk of death and Injury

This is a new multi chapter fic idea that I’ve had for a while. I’m a sucker for “stranded on a deserted island” AU so here it is! Think Lost minus the weirdness and time travel and smoke monster. Warning for later chapters: this probably will have smut and also the pregnancy trope.

A sharp sting. Smoke, salt, and iron. Those were the first things that Aelin noted when she started to rise to consciousness. The haze of sunlight that broke through the barrier of her eyelids was bright enough that she clenched them as hard as she could. Grogginess pulled her back under like a tidal wave of exhaustion, enough that she barely felt the sting on her cheek once more. She must be dreaming, she thought.

Another sharp sting once again pinched her cheek, this time more noticeable. She cracked one eye open, then the other, slow enough that the sun didn’t give her a throb of pain this time. She expected…she didn’t know what she expected. But it certainly wasn’t bright blue skies or the silver haired man currently hovering over her. His hair was glistening with droplets of water, the sheen dancing in the sunlight. She followed a particular drop that rolled from his hair, down his forehead, traversing across the sharp ridge of his nose, over his full, pillowy lips, straight down to the angular chin.

If Aelin was in her right mind, she would’ve stopped staring by now. But she felt weird, almost as if she was floating. She would continue to ogle this beautiful man a moment longer, she could give herself that. Or she would’ve given herself that had another pinch not been felt on her right cheek.

“Ow,” she mumbled.

“Come on, wake up.” His voice sounded garbled from her dazed state. It was still the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Yes, she thought, there truly must be something wrong with her.

He lifted something to her lips, cold liquid sliding over them and down her throat, easing the ache that she didn’t even know was there. When she no longer felt him hovering, she closed her eyes once more, trying to allow sleep to take her. A pungent smell roused her right away, the suffocating aroma burning her nostrils until she was wide awake.

“Oh, thank god. You’re awake.” The man’s voice sounded almost…relieved? What in the hell was going on?

For the first time since she came to, Aelin opened her eyes fully. Her initial assessment was correct, the man was indeed beautiful, wearing a white button down that was currently clinging to his well-toned chest. The sky was also a brilliant shade of cerulean, barely a cloud in the sky except for a few black clouds in the distance, the billowing seemingly coming from the ocean. Which brought her attention to the waves currently lapping on the beach she was laying on.

How on earth did she get here? The last thing she remembered was being on a boat, making her way back to Terrasen. So how did she get here?

She tried to sit up but when her head swam, she groaned and laid back down.

“Here, let me help you.” The man put one hand around her shoulders and grabbed her hand in his other. “Just take it easy. You have a head wound and while I don’t think you have a full concussion, you probably have something of the sort.”

Once she was up, Aelin felt a little steadier. She could also take her surroundings in more fully. They were on a beach, possibly an island, surrounded by palm trees. It could’ve been a nice vacation destination if she knew where the hell she was. A closer glimpse to the horizon allowed her to see the plume of black smoke wafting up into the sky. That was…that was the boat.

In a panic, she looked to the man at her side. His eyes snapped up from where he was intently studying her and she already dreaded what she saw in them.

“What happened?”

He gave her a grim look. “Something happened to the boat. I don’t know if we crashed, hit something, got hit by something…What do you remember?”

She tried to wrack her memories for something significant. Something that would tell her why she and this man were the only two people here. “I…I remember being on the boat, looking out over the water. And then…” Hazily, she remembered a jolt reverberating through the boat. “I remember something happening and then…nothing.”

“You probably hit your head at some point. A lot of people fell into the water. I saw you floating and realized you weren’t awake.” He swallowed hard. “I did my best to get us here but there were too many people. You were the only one I could handle over the waves. I don’t know if there are other people out there.” By the time he finished explaining, his voice was somber, realizing that a lot of the people in the water probably wouldn’t make it. “We didn’t even have time to get to any lifeboats or anything before the entire ship went up in flames. I swear something exploded.”

“Shit.” Aelin took a few minutes to process everything. “So we’re stuck here? Did you try calling anyone or, I don’t know, sending up an SOS signal or something?”

“My phone is waterlogged and so is yours. I hope you don’t mind I checked just to be sure. But neither are working. Unless there’s someone else out there on a life boat, yeah…we’re stuck for now.”

“Fuck.” A humorless laugh escaped Aelin. “This is what I get, I guess.”

The man gave her a bewildered look but thankfully said nothing. Instead, he offered a hand. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aelin.” She paused. “Thanks for saving me.” Rowan just nodded at her.

Aelin didn’t know the first thing about surviving in the wild so how in the hell were they supposed to live here until someone rescues them?

“What do we do now?” She looked to Rowan, who was staring at the burning boat.

“Now we try to survive.” His gaze went to the treeline and she couldn’t help but think that their bad luck was just beginning.

A/N: I mapped this all out and it’s like 18 chapters…we’ll see if it stays that long 😅😅 updates will probably be sporadic but I’m hoping to get at least a chapter out every week.

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[rowaelinscourt]

Rowaelin Month: PROMPT SUBMISSIONS OPEN

Hey everyone! It's that time of year again! Prompt Submissions are OPEN for Rowaelin Month 2023!

A quick refresher on the rules:

1. You may submit as few or as many prompts as you like! The form has space for up to 5 prompts, but if you have more ideas,  feel free to submit another entry!

2. All prompts submissions will remain anonymous.

3. Please keep all prompts relatively general so that they may be used for inspiration in many creative ways! They should be able to be used for fics, art, moodboards, playlists and headcanons!

4. While Rowaelin month is open 18+ works, we want everyone to be able to be involved! All prompts should be able to be used at any rating. Please refrain from suggestions that are unavoidably explicit or contain adult themes. 

5. Submissions will be open for one (1) week, and will close Sunday, July 23, 2023, so that we have time to put together a prompt list and give everyone plenty of time to before the September 1st start date!

You can submit  your prompt submissions

HERE

And please spread the word so we can all celebrate our favorite Fireheart and Buzzard!

[leiawritesstories]

Stick Season (Part 2)

masterlist

Rowaelin Month, Day 7: Vacation/Outdoors

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: bickering cousins, couple of swear words, one healthy serving of angst

Enjoy! (?)

@rowaelinscourt

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

Present

The Whitethorn horde blew into Doranelle, Vermont, like a Category 4 blizzard, albeit a very welcome one. Rowan felt like he’d barely woken up and downed his first cup of coffee before there was a rigorous pounding on his front door and he looked out the kitchen window to find an entire caravan of silver vehicles filling his front yard as if it was a parking lot. 

“We know you’re home, Ro-Ro!” Sellene yelled from the porch. “You can’t hide from Christmas forever, and besides, you invited us!” 

“Calm down, LeLe,” Rowan drawled, opening the door to a flock of bright green eyes, blonde hair, and layers of winter clothing. “Nobody said you had to show up at eight in the bloody morning.” 

“It’s ten-thirty,” she retorted. 

“Same difference.” He easily lifted the two large suitcases she was rolling and headed for the guest rooms. “It’s too early.” 

“You never were a morning person.” She flicked on the bedroom lights. “Just leave them by the window.” 

He put the suitcases down and made a quick stop to pull on his jacket before heading out to the neatly parked rows of cars, where he found his closest (in age) cousin struggling to maneuver luggage out of his SUV. “The dealerships called, Enda. They’re out of silver paint.” 

“What can I say?” Endymion Whitethorn shrugged, far too charming for his own good. “We’ve always liked our family colors.” 

“Doesn’t mean we have to drive around in matching cars like some kind of hippie mission church,” Rowan deadpanned. 

Enda snorted with laughter. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” He pulled Rowan into a brief, tight hug. “How are you? How’s the property? How’s…everything?” 

“Property’s fine, I’m too damn tired for this chaos, and everything is fine.” 

“I’m sure it is.” The dryness of Enda’s voice rivaled the Sahara Desert. 

“Don’t get any romantic ideas,” Rowan warned, only half teasing. Last Christmas, he’d lost a bet to Enda, who’d then set him up on a spectacularly awful date with a shrewish woman named Remelle– “but you can call me Remy”–an event that soured his memory every time he recalled that evening. 

“I would never,” Enda said, drawing out the never into a long, supposedly innocent singsong.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “And I’m the Queen of England.” He snickered at the outraged expression on his cousin’s face and picked up a duffle bag and a couple of crates full of brightly wrapped gifts. “Your car won’t unload itself, you know.” 

“Remind me why I put up with this bullshit,” Enda grumbled. 

Passing by just in time to hear the curse word, Sellene swatted Enda upside the head. “There are children present!” 

“Oh please, your kids were swearing before they spoke full sentences.” 

She huffed. “And it’s no wonder, considering that their uncles have such foul mouths.” Fondly, she rolled her eyes at Enda, who was still hopelessly attempting to maneuver one suitcase out from the bottom of the luggage piled in the trunk. “You’ll get unpacked a lot faster if you don’t try to play Suitcase Jenga. Here, let me.” 

He grumbled something about her being interfering but stepped aside and let her expertly dismantle the pile of suitcases. “Thanks, Sel.” 

“You’re welcome.” She blew him an air kiss. “How two men and a puppy manage to have more crap packed in their car than me and my whole family, I’ll never understand.” 

“That’s because my husband and I care about looking our best, thank you very much.” Enda flipped his shoulder-length hair, picked up a few of his bags, and sauntered off towards the house. 

“Would it be rude of me to say ‘yes, queen?’” Rowan murmured into Sellene’s ear. 

She burst into shaking, wheezing laughter. “Oh gods,” she gasped. “I think I peed myself a little.” She smacked his shoulder, though between her winter gloves and his thick parka, it didn’t do much  damage. “You’d better let that sense of humor loose at least a few times, Ro-Ro, or we’ll be forced to believe you aren’t actually human.” 

“Piss off,” he grumbled, but he was laughing. “I’m glad you’re here, Sel.” 

“I’m glad you let the horde of heathens come to your place again after what happened last year,” she quipped. “I thought for sure we’d be banished to Ellys’s place for Christmas vacation.” 

“Ellys can barely host a birthday party, let alone multiple nights with the whole Whitethorn family. It’s better if everyone crashes here; there’s more space.” 

“Plus we can always pitch tents in the yard.” 

“This is true.” He winked. “I think we should make that the punishment for the loudest ones.” 

“Deal.” Sellene bumped her gloved fist into his. “Fifty bucks says it’ll be Fenrys and whoever he brings home for the holidays.” 

“Why do I let him come to my house?” Rowan sighed. 

“Tradition,” both he and his cousin chorused. 

Sellene snickered. “Alright, I’m going to go control my wild children.” 

“Too late,” Rowan called. “They’ve already found the hot cocoa.” 

~

“Thank you for visiting Orynth Shelves! Happy holidays!” Aelin waved cheerfully to the most recent customer, turned back to the mercifully empty desk, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. The day had been absolutely insane, packed full of holiday shoppers ranging from sweet elderly ladies to rambunctious kids who tried to climb the bookshelves and tracked wet slush everywhere. She had just turned around to steal two minutes of peace and quiet when the bells on the front door jingled and she had to turn back around, paint her customer service smile on her face, and– “Sellene?” 

“Aelin?” Sellene Whitethorn looked just as shocked as Aelin felt. 

“In the flesh.” Aelin shrugged. “Here I am, back in my hometown. Crazy, right?” 

“It’s…unexpected,” Sellene admitted. “But damn, it’s so good to see you again, Aelin.” 

Aelin rounded the desk and accepted Sellene’s brief hug. “It’s great to see you too. Are you looking for something in particular, or just browsing?” 

“Hmm, I think I’ll just browse.” Sellene grinned. “You never know what you’ll find during the holidays, right?” 

“Right.” Aelin gestured towards the shelves. “Happy hunting! If you’re interested, though, there’s a special winter section in the feature corner, and I’ve stocked it with as many cute little holiday romances as I could find.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Say no more!” Sellene hurried off towards the seasonal display. 

Aelin laughed to herself and returned to the desk. Even after a number of years, she still remembered how much Sellene Whitethorn adored holiday romances. It had been one of their shared interests when they’d first met–way back in high school–and she could recall the exact expression on Sellene’s face when she realized how many books (and book boyfriends) they had in common. 

One Christmas, Sellene had even taken Rowan (her “hopelessly clueless cousin”) to the bookstore to buy Aelin’s present. With her guidance, Rowan had bought Aelin a complete set of her favorite small-town romance series and written sweet little messages in each book’s cover. 

Aelin still had those books. They lived in an unlabeled tote in her spare room. 

She shook away the ache of that memory, pushing it back into the deep recesses of her mind where it belonged, and grinned as Sellene walked up to the register with a small stack of books in her arms. 

“I was expecting more than that,” she teased as she rang up the books. 

Sellene laughed. “Well, I’m on a budget–”

“Bullshit, it’s Christmas.” 

“Fair enough. I’m on a book-buying budget, and I can’t exactly gift these to anyone in my family.” With a suggestive smirk, she passed Aelin one of the books. 

Screwing Mr. Scrooge, proclaimed the title. 

Aelin snorted with laughter. “Yeah, maybe don’t make that someone’s present.” 

“I’m only buying it because my husband and I–”

“And that’s where you can stop,” Aelin interrupted, pretending to gag and swatting Sellene playfully with the book. “My gods, Sellene!” 

Sellene giggled. “Alright, I’ll spare you the details.” She winked as she took out her credit card and tapped it to the card reader. “You’re in publishing, right?” 

“Yep.” 

“Then you definitely know what happens when readers who have a significant other find a spicy scene they like.” 

“Doesn’t mean I need to have firsthand knowledge,” Aelin teased. “There you go, Sellene. Enjoy the rest of your vacation!” 

“Thanks!” Sellene zipped up her thick parka jacket. Almost at the front door, she paused and turned back to Aelin. “Hey, I had a thought.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to be here alone, least of all during Christmas–” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Aelin waved off the protest. “I’m with Dad, and Aedion’s here too. I’m not going to be alone on Christmas.” 

“Still, the invitation stands.” Sellene continued as if Aelin hadn’t spoken. “I want to invite you to come over to the Whitethorn place. We haven’t seen you in far too long, and the whole family is here, even the little ones. Plus, I’m sure Rowan wants to see you…” 

She kept going, but Aelin no longer heard anything she was saying. The mere mention of the name Rowan had consumed her. Rowan wants to see you. 

How could he? 

Until the other week outside Staghorns, they hadn’t spoken in three years. How could he possibly want to see her? 

She’d been the one to leave. 

~

Three Years Ago

Aelin slowed down and turned onto the long, painstakingly cleared driveway of her family home and drove up the asphalt pathway until she reached the turnaround in front of the sprawling, elegant redbrick structure that was the Galathynius home. She parked, turned off the engine, and sat in the driver’s seat for a long, achingly silent moment. 

Then she dried her tears, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure there was no evidence that she’d been sobbing for the last fifteen minutes, and exited her car. 

With her suitcase behind her and her tote bag slung neatly over her shoulder, Aelin walked up the front steps and entered the two-story atrium of the house’s front hall. “Hello?” she called. Part of her hoped–desperately–that there would be nobody home. 

But with a soft rustle of cashmere and a gentle tap-tap-tap of heeled pumps, Evalin Ashryver appeared at the top of the grand staircase. “Hello, darling.” 

“Mother.” Aelin set her luggage aside and crossed the foyer, meeting her mother in the middle and accepting a perfunctory hug and air kiss. 

“How was the drive?” Evalin inquired. 

“Smooth,” Aelin replied. “The traffic disappeared after I left the city.” 

“Funny how that happens.” Evalin pressed the buzzer on the wall, summoning the housekeeper that the family apparently still employed. “Clara, would you please take my daughter’s things to her room?” She dismissed the housekeeper and led Aelin towards the family living room.

Aelin bit her tongue to hold back all the things she wanted to spew. She’d been trying for years (without success) to convince her mother that there was no need to keep on a full-time housekeeper and butler. A cook she understood, and a groundskeeper, but Rhoe and Evalin were the only ones who lived in that huge house anymore. They didn’t need staff for everything they did. 

“So pleased that you were able to come home this early,” Evalin said. 

Aelin returned her attention to her mother. “Yes, I managed to take a more flexible holiday vacation.” Her lips quirked upwards. “I suppose the promotion helped.” 

“The promotion?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I was promoted to editor in November.” Aelin couldn’t control the proud smile that curved across her face. 

Evalin beamed. “I’ll never know why it took your firm so long to realize that you’re the most competent person there. Congratulations, darling.” She squeezed Aelin’s hand, her own hand cold. “An editor at only twenty-four. Next up, editor in chief, right?” 

“Perhaps,” Aelin concurred. “But–”

“Rhoe, dear!” Evalin called, unaware that her daughter was speaking. “We have news!” 

Rhoe strode into the living room with a broad, genuine smile on his face and pulled Aelin into a powerfully warm hug. “Welcome home, Fireheart.” 

“Hi, Dad.” She grinned up at him. “I have news.” 

“So your mother tells me.” He took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. “Well?” 

“I’ve been promoted to editor as of last month.” 

“Congratulations!” Rhoe got to his feet and wrapped his daughter in an embrace, then went over to the bar built into one side of the room and retrieved a small bottle of champagne and three flutes. “This calls for a toast!” 

“Really, Rhoe,” Evalin tutted, frowning at her husband as he poured the champagne and handed out the glasses. “It’s barely even four o’clock.” 

“It’s a perfectly reasonable occasion for a toast,” Rhoe returned. He pressed Aelin’s glass into her hand, giving her a look of reassurance. “To our Fireheart, the editor!” 

Aelin grinned at her father, clinked her glass gently against his, and took a delicate sip of the expensive champagne; of course her parents would only stock the finest in their fridge. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“Darling, haven’t we discussed how mature women ought to be past the point of referring to their parents in childish ways?” Evalin’s tone was cool, reproving. 

The champagne curdled in Aelin’s stomach. Silently, she placed her glass down on the granite bartop. “I was unaware that there were politically correct terms for one’s own parents.” She kept her voice light, but her spine stiffened into steel, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of her mother’s disapproval. 

“As an editor, surely you understand the value of adjusting language to fit the appropriate categorization and age range,” Evalin stated. “The same principle ought to apply to all areas of speech, darling. Furthermore, your father would never allow his employees to address him as ‘Rhoe,’ so why should his daughter address him that casually?” 

“Perhaps for the fact that she is his daughter.” It was Rhoe who spoke, his words laced with the underlying note of command that marked him as the incredibly successful businessman he was. Subtly, he moved closer to Aelin, acting both as a shield between her and Evalin and as an extinguisher to the brewing flames of both women’s wrath. 

Aelin exchanged a look of deepest gratitude with her father and turned to leave the room. Before she was out the door, though, she heard her mother whispering heatedly, tearing into Rhoe for the simple act of defending his only daughter. 

“I will not have you come between my daughter and I when I am speaking!” Evalin hissed. “I am her mother, and you know full well that we hardly get the chance to see her. You cannot deprive me of the time I need to spend with her on the rare occasion that she’s home, you callous–” 

Aelin wheeled around and stalked over to Evalin, fire blazing in the gold of her eyes. “If anyone is callous, Mom, it’s you.” Vehemence threw her words like spears. “Or were you conveniently going to forget that you interrupted my call with Rowan while I was driving because you needed to remind me that I’m a pathetic excuse of a daughter for wanting to see my boyfriend for two minutes before I come home?” Her breath was ragged. “Well, you’ll be delighted to know that I broke up with him.” 

Evalin’s jaw went slack. “I–” 

“You got your wish, Mother.” Aelin laughed, sardonically. “I’m home for dinnertime.” 

Turning sharply on her heel, she stalked out of the room, leaving behind her shell-shocked father and her mother stunned silent for once as she processed the truth her daughter had just flung. She kept her composure all the way up to her bedroom, where she entered the room and locked the door behind herself. 

Then Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, unflappable editor, crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

~~~

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