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rowanaelinn · 3 years

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Safe Place

rowaelin month day four : librairies @rowaelinscourt

warning: not descriptive nsfw content

Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius could be described as a calm male. Out of all his companions, he probably was the one with the most self-control and he thanked the Gods for it every time one of his friends said something stupid.

However, it didn’t apply when his wife was concerned. Around Aelin, Rowan’s self-control seemed to vanish. She had the ability to get him angry, to become a blushing mess or a soft idiot with just one sentence. There was no control around his mate and it was one of the reasons he loved her.

But when he woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, Rowan lost the little human part he had in himself. Rowan lost all control the moment he smelled a lingering scent of fear. Her fear.

Has she been taken again?

Has it all been a dream? Had he not got her back?

In a second, Rowan was standing, knives at the ready around his waist. He would fight to get her back if he had to. Not having Aelin by his side made him feel like all the air in the world was gone.

Rowan wanted to yell at himself for falling asleep, he should have protected her.

In all the times her Fireheart was in danger, Rowan was never there to protect her. What a poor excuse of a husband and mate he was. He still didn't know why his queen was keeping him and hadn't already thrown him out. He was useless. Completely useless.

He kept complaining because of the royal duties, kept saying he liked being a prince just fine because it didn’t bring him any mess. His only role as King Consort, mate, and husband was to protect Aelin and he had shown the world how bad he was at it. Multiple times.

She wasn’t okay, he could feel her sadness from her side of the bond. Rowan felt like a prick for being relieved at the feeling of her emotions just because it meant she was still alive and not in a damn iron coffin that blocked every chance for them to communicate.

First, he came out of the royal apartments, following Aelin’s faint scent. She had become so damn good at hiding herself with her magic, a trick Fenrys taught all of them. It was a useful skill to have, Rowan was relieved most of the time no one could track her with her scent but he wasn’t tonight. Not when he needed to see her.

Thankfully with Aelin’s condition lately, her scent was stronger which meant she couldn’t cover up all of it. He refused to imagine she had been taken away until he had searched the entire castle twice. She had to be here, somewhere.

He went first to the kitchen, hoping to find her behind the counter, a plate with chocolate cake in front of her. She would look up, fork still in mouth and she would smile guiltily at him. She would apologize, saying she was always so hungry lately and he would shake it off, taking another fork and join her even if he hated cake. Just to show her she wasn’t alone.

But when he opened the door, the kitchen was empty, making Rowan’s heart clench.

Next, he went to the throne room, hoping to find her sitting on her throne, a sad smile on her face she would try to conceal with a smirk. He would ask her what she was doing here and she would tell him she needed to be alone and to feel in power, and what better than her throne to make her feel powerful? But this room was empty too, and Rowan’s heart crushed a little further.

Maybe she was in the inside cemetery, kneeling between both her parent’s graves. She would look up at him and wouldn’t try to hide her tears. She would have a smile on her face, telling him she needed to feel close to them. To be between the two of them without waking up with blood everywhere. Rowan would nod and sit behind her, letting her rest her back on his chest and he would let her cry bringing her all the comfort she needed. But she wasn’t here, and Rowan didn’t know where to look for her now.

If they were in Rifthold, he would probably think she was speaking to either Sam or Nehemia, telling both of them everything about what happened in their court since the last time she spoke to them.

But they weren’t in Adarlan so it left only one place where she could be. His walk to the library was slow, slower than he wished. He could just shift and fly instead of taking all the stairs but if she was there she would make fun of him for it, she had enough to tease him already.

When he arrived at the library, as always, he was dazzled by the splendor of the room. The last time the librarians counted, Aelin and Rowan owned three hundred thousand books and that was a decade ago, just after the construction work was finished.

Aelin had cried and laughed and smiled for hours when she first saw it, walking through all the sections to see every book, then made love to Rowan on the floor, more tenderly than they were both used to, to thank him.

As if seized by a frenzy, Rowan walked like a mad man through the library to find her. He regretted giving her something so big, having to look at every fucking row. There were so many places to hide.

After what seemed like hours, Roan saw familiar blonde hair. He let a sob come out in relief. She wasn't gone. There was no Valg Queen that had pulled her away from Rowan, no, his Fireheart was just sitting on a couch that looked very comfortable, six pillows behind her back.

"Rowan?" She asked, raising her eyes full of concern. "Is everything okay?" Her eyebrows were furrowed.

Instead of answering, he rushed to her side, falling onto her lap to be on the same level as her and scanning her entire body to make sure she was okay and truly in front of him.

His eyes fell on a small scar on her right knee, a scar she had made during one of their training sessions. He remembered kissing the mark every night for weeks when he noticed it after enjoying his wife's goddess body. He hadn't noticed that she was injured during their workout and he felt terrible about it.

Aelin kept telling him he was fussing, but he knew deep down she liked it. She loved to be cherished and protected. He dropped his head to her lap, unable to fight a sob. She put her book aside, sitting straighter and one of her hands found her way in his hair. Rowan hated himself for the tears streaming down his face as he looked up at her, he hated himself even more for the look of agony on his mate’s face.

“Speak to me, please.” She begged him, her hand still playing in his hair.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even and strong but he couldn’t. “I thought you were gone.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm down and focusing on where he touched her, his hands and arms on her legs. “I woke up to an empty bed and your fearful scent and I panicked.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Rowan.”

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere either last time but you still did.” He hated the poisonous words the moment they felt his mouth but his mate didn’t seem hurt, knowing anger was his way to cope. “I’m sorry,” He hid his face on her leg, not wanting to see her hurt face.

“Don’t be,” Was the only thing she said as she kept stroking his hair. She was too good to him, she had always been. She had known so much pain her entire life but she was still an amazing person, Rowan didn’t know how much strength it must take her. The Gods knew Rowan lacked that particular strength when the time had come, he had turned into the worst version of himself. He admired his Fireheart.

After a moment, Rowan looked back at her and she smiled, his entire world brightened at this. She was okay, she was right here with him. She was safe.

“How are you?” He asked, feeling selfish for crying when she was the one who had a nightmare.

“We’re both okay, Rowan.” She reassured him as her free hand came to rest on her slightly rounded belly. Rowan’s heart swelled at the sight, he still couldn’t believe it. After years, decades, of trying Azlin was pregnant. She had been glowing for the past four months, even if she said otherwise.

“Is she still kicking?” He asked, one of his hands joining Aelin’s.

“Your son is restless, I hope you slept enough in your life because he’s not going to let us sleep much once he’s here.”

Both Aelin and him had a divergence of opinion on their baby’s sex. Aelin was sure it was a boy, whereas Rowan believed it was a girl. A girl had been their oldest in the vision he had for months when Aelin was gone. It had been too realistic to be a dream, had felt too real.

Yrene knew and had asked them if they wanted to know, but both of them agreed they wanted to keep it secret. They had too many surprises in their lives and none of them had been good, but this one would be. No more surprises unless it’s a good one.

“She’ll be worth every sleepless night.” His lips turned into a smile at the idea of a little Aelin and Rowan.

Aelin snorted. “Wait until you have to change diapers.”

At that, Rowan laughed, soon followed by Aelin. When he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, his smile faded. “What did you dream of?” He asked, needing to know why his wife had left their room after a nightmare instead of waking him up.

She lost her smile too, her body tenser than moments ago. “Nothing important.”

“Please, tell me.”

She took a deep breath and some time to answer. Rowan didn’t mind, he’d give her eternity if she needed as long as he knew what troubled his wife. He got up, lifted Aelin's legs so he could sit next to her, and then rested her legs on his while he caressed her thighs in comfort. “I was you.”

“With Maeve?”

She shook her head making his confusion grow. She had already told him about nightmares of him being taken on that beach, of him being whipped and tortured for months. He had held her as she cried, as she told him the pain of losing him would have been so much more than the pain she experienced all these months away from him.

“In Arobynn’s cave.” She whispered as tears pooled in her eyes. He wouldn’t take her in his arms, he would wait for her to do it first, no need to overwhelm her. “With your eyes missing, whole body destroyed and a cold body.”

Oh.

“Fireheart…”

“Have you ever dreamed of me like that?” She asked and he knew she didn’t mean just dreams of her, dead.

“I did.” He admitted, his heart beating faster at the thought of it. “First in Wendlyn, when you left for Rifthold. Every time I closed my eyes I lived the day I found Lyria over and over again. But it wasn’t her small body that I saw, it was yours. It haunted me for months.” He took a deep breath, controlling his emotions. Aelin was crying, she didn’t need someone else to become a wreck. “Then when you told me you were pregnant, it started again.”

It happened more than he wanted to admit. He knew it wouldn’t happen, it was impossible, but he still could see her dead body in front of his destroyed mountain home.

Aelin didn’t say anything but she straddled him, his hands finding her waist as her fingers slipped through his hair. Her forehead came to rest on his as they both closed their eyes, enjoying each other’s company. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

His hand stroked her back, his fingers drawing the lines of his tattoo he knew by heart now. Every part of her body was written in his mind. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I know it’s rare lately.” Her warm hand cupped his cheek and he sighed in her embrace. “Whenever I don’t feel okay and you’re not around, I come here.”

“The library?”

“Or the theater if I feel like walking.” Which wasn’t a lot lately, his wife’s pregnancy was taking her so much energy they didn’t go to the theater in months. She was always so tired or in pain, he knew she missed it. “Whenever I’m here, I feel so close to you, as if part of your soul was here between these walls.”

His heart clenched at it, he lifted up his head, his lips settled gently on hers. He kissed her languidly, generously, putting as much love and passion as he could. He loved her so much he felt like dying. He would die without her.

Slowly, she began to unbutton his shirt, her tongue continuing to play with Rowan's. The kiss turned from passionate to needy. He needed the reassurance she was here, she was with him, and his mate knew it.

In a matter of moments, Rowan was shirtless and had pulled her nightgown over her head, revealing her naked body. Aelin had gained weight in the years since the war, her body that had once been too thin was now full. She had had a hard time adjusting, she had been starving most of her life. Even during her years with Arobynn, she was always under a strict diet to stay the best. She had never been in a stable enough place for her to thrive.

So when her flat stomach rounded out, thighs grew and cheeks filled out, it was a shock. Rowan had been there to worship her body day and night, reminding her that she was just living, and seeing her happy was the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

One of Rowan’s hands was teasing Aelin’s sensitive nipple, tearing little cries out of her perfect, delicate, lips. Her hands undid his buckle quickly as Rowan lifted his hips to slide his pants and underwear down, freeing his hard member.

Aelin didn’t waste time before taking him, her hand around him applying just the right amount of pressure. His hand slipped between her legs, directly finding her wet and warm entrance. They moaned together as Aelin’s hand movement quickened and Rowan plunged two fingers in her warmth, hitting that spot inside of her that made her scream every time.

As good as it was, Rowan craved something else, so when he groaned Aelin understood. He pulled out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her. No matter how many years had passed since the first time, Rowan kept being surprised at how good she tasted. He moaned around his fingers as Aelin teased her entrance with his erection before sinking down, making both of their heads drop back.

Being inside of her had always felt so good, had always felt so right, as if he had been born just to do this. Her belly prevented their chests from touching but Rowan didn’t mind as he ran his hands on every inch of her skin as she started moving.

Aelin kept bouncing slowly on top of him, taking her time as she chased her pleasure, and once again Rowan realized how much he loved her. His Fireheart, his mate, his wife, and his best friend.

He loved her so damn much and he told her so, repeated it over and over again as they both fell over the edge, gripping the other’s skin as they reached the peak of pleasure.

They were both breathless as he lifted her up, pulling out of her and he used his shirt to clean her up. He didn’t want to get dressed not yet, anyway. He lied on his side, tucking his Fireheart next to him. That way, every inch of his front could touch her back. One of his hands came to rest on her belly as he took her book, opening it to where she had left a bookmark.

“What are you doing?” She asked him, her voice sleepy. He used his magic to extinguish most of the candles in the bookstore, leaving only the ones behind him lit to give him some light. "Shhh." He said softly into her ear, moving slightly to be more comfortable, and pulled her even closer to him. "You don't have to come back to reality now." He told her then began to read her book aloud.

He couldn’t see her but deep down, he left her smile as she put her hand against his, both of them holding their baby as they hugged each other.

Aelin fell asleep quickly but Rowan didn’t stop reading, even if after many hours his voice became hoarse and his throat hurt. But if his Fireheart heard him maybe she would know he was still here, even in her sleep.

—————

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#rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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nobody does it like you do - act 6

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

13k - masterlist - ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

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

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

For one week.

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

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

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

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

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stunning,” she breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

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

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin hopes so at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

His smile is the same until he spots her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

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

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rowan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logic. That’s all it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

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

“Nine.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

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

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

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

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

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

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

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

Now though, Aelin knows better.

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

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

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

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

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

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

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

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

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

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

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

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

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t do any of those things.

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

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

This is big. She can feel it.

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

The only word she can find is insanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

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

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

Yet there are differences.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

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

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

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is big and Aelin is ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

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

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

“It’s crazy, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

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

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

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

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

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

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

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

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

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

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

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

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

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

He only raises a brow.

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

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

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

“I’d love to.”

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

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

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

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

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

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

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

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

“And I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

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cloudywriter · 3 years

Text

a trip to target

rowaelin month - september 6th

prompt: firstborn arrives

i literally have no idea where this idea came from like it’s so weird but i think it’s funny so i just had to write it. honestly though pregnancy freaks me out a little so it was a little uncomfy to write at times but i pushed through and i like it. enjoy!

(warning for some minor language)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

Rowan was working on one of his client's cases, a rather nasty divorce that he knew was going to be an absolute dumpster fire when his wife called him again. Rowan couldn’t help but smile a little at her name lighting up his phone screen but admittedly she was bothering him so much he barely got any work done nowadays.

He picked up anyway, he’d never decline her. “Hey, Fireheart.”

“I’m bored, buzzard,” Aelin deadpanned.

“I know, baby, but I’ll come home after my meeting later, I promise. Then we can watch Bachelor reruns all night and eat ice cream,” Rowan assured her, leaning back in his office chair. For some reason, all she wanted to do nowadays was watch bad reality tv and eat ice cream from the carton. As much as Rowan hated reality shows and wasn't keen on sweets he did anything to make her happy.

“That’s too far away, I’m rotting away on this couch,” Aelin whined.

Aelin’s work had forced her on maternity leave a few days ago as she was due any day now with their first child, a little girl, and Aelin was not taking it well. She was the kind of person who liked to always be busy and now she had nothing to do but sit on the couch and wait for their child to decide she was ready to enter the world. She was constantly phoning Rowan seeking some form of entertainment but he was still working on this damn case.

Rowan thought her restlessness had something to do with the fact she was terrified at the thought of giving birth and caring for a newborn. If she were distracted she wouldn’t have to think about the daunting task at hand. So, he did his best to keep her happy and preoccupied but he desperately needed to wrap up this case before his daughter arrived. He wanted to be there for every moment of the beginning of her life, he didn’t fancy any legal cases looming over his head vying for his attention as well.

“I know, I’ll be home as soon as I can. Hang tight, my love.”

Aelin huffed from the other end of the line. “I’m ready for her to be out, Rowan. This sucks.”

Rowan stifled a laugh, he knew being pregnant had lost its charm a long time ago. At first, she enjoyed Rowan fetching anything she asked for and waiting on her, but then that started to get old, and Aelin's pregnancy symptoms made her miserable most of the time. So, the last couple of months hadn't been her favorite.

“I’m ready to meet her too. Any second now.”

“Okay, I’ll stop bothering you now," Aelin concluded. She likely finally found something on Netflix that piqued her interest. "Good luck with your meeting, I hope they settle. I love you,” Aelin told him.

“I love you too, see you soon,” and with that, the call ended. Rowan looked out the window of his office, thinking. Maybe he could send someone to keep her company?

He ran through a list of their friends in his head. Elide, Aedion, and Lysandra were all working as far as he knew and didn’t want to ask them to leave their job to entertain Aelin. He thought of Lorcan, Connall, and Fenrys, they all worked for him so technically he could let them off. Except, Aelin didn’t particularly like Lorcan and he didn’t think Connall would be very keen on that arrangement either. Fenrys, though, Aelin and Fenrys were best of friends, a force of nature all on their own.

So, Rowan rang his assistant requesting that Fenrys be sent to his office. Not much time passed before Fenrys was standing in the doorway, knocking lightly on its frame.

“What’s up?” He asked, plopping himself down on a chair opposite Rowan, making himself comfortable.

“I have a favor to ask,” Rowan confessed.

“A favor?” Fenrys raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Can you go keep Aelin company while I’m trying to settle with the Westfalls?” Rowan probed.

Fenrys frowned. “As much as I love Ace I can’t take a day off work to hang out with her. I have bills to pay and ladies to take out.”

Rowan nearly groaned, fighting an internal battle with himself. “I’ll let you do it on the clock,” he finally spit out.

“You’re going to pay me to go entertain your wife?” Fenrys looked bewildered. “I feel like is almost insulting to Aelin, you paying people to hang out with her. You’re the one she should be paying people to hang out with.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that. I feel bad because I know she’s struggling and I can’t be home right now. I don’t want her to have to be alone, just take her to Target or something.”

“Aelin’s a grown woman, can’t she take herself to Target?” Fenrys disputed.

“Yes, but she’s a grown woman who’s nearing 40 weeks pregnant. I’d rather she have a chaperone,” Rowan admitted, before backtracking. “Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

Fenrys looked amused as Rowan continued. “Are you really going to say no?”

“Of course not, getting paid to go to Target with Aelin is a hell of a lot better than getting paid to do paperwork,” Fenrys conceded.

Rowan blew a sigh of relief as Fenrys headed to go pick up Aelin.

+++

Fenrys had successfully gotten Aelin to Target. It wasn’t a hard task to accomplish, the woman loved Target but Fenrys noticed she seemed rather uncomfortable and he asked her multiple times if she just wanted to stay home instead. Aelin always said no, pushing on with their trip.

He supposed having a watermelon-sized bump on one’s front would cause a certain degree of discomfort, though. Naturally, the pair find themselves in the baby section, gushing over tiny onesies and shoes small enough to fit in the palm of their hands. Fenrys was swiping through a display of onesies, “Do you think they have any of those onesies that say like 'broken condom 'on them or something?”

Aelin turned around from where she was staring at baby headbands. “You’re nasty. My daughter was not the result of a broken condom.”

Fenrys made a face, “I don’t want to know.”

Aelin snorted and they continued their browsing making their way through every aisle that had anything remotely baby-related. By now, Fenrys noticed Aelin was growing increasingly uncomfortable, he could see her stamina slowing, and the difficulty walking was beginning to pose.

Eventually, he shifted to face her as they browsed the small, dollar section at the front of the store. “Do you want to head home and get off your feet?” he finally proposed.

“No,” Aelin responded without looking at him, picking up a small, fake succulent. “Walking is supposed to induce labor and that’s what I’m aiming for right now,” she stated, smoothing a hand over the front of her round stomach.

Fenrys shrugged, picking up a pair of cheap fuzzy socks before throwing them back into their bin.

He allowed Aelin to mill about the store, spending a healthy amount of time at the nightgown section before moving towards the back of the store. Aelin always said it wasn’t a trip to Target without going to the back and sniffing their extensive stockpile of candles.

That’s exactly where they ended up. Fenrys had his nose stuck in a deep violet candle, making a face at its scent. He checked the label. Cosmic starlight. What the hell was that supposed to smell like?

He turned to Aelin about to make her smell the atrocity when she braced herself against the shelf, putting down the candle she had been holding. Her mouth popped into an ‘o’ and her brow furrowed.

“Aelin?” Fenrys reached out a hesitant hand placing it on her shoulder.

Aelin breathed deeply, taking a moment to reply. “The baby must really hate the smell of sandalwood,” she finally vocalized.

Fenrys’ dark eyes widened. “Did you just have a contraction?”

“I think? It’s hard to tell if it was just a strong fake one or not,” Aelin panted eventually loosening her grip on the candle display shelf.

Fenrys wasn’t taking any chances, if Rowan wanted him to deal with a woman going into labor he’d have to raise his pay significantly. “How about we get you home, Ace.”

Aelin didn’t object, just nodded her agreement waddling towards the front of the store with Fenrys hovering around her like a fly.

They made it out to the parking lot without any further incident and Fenrys helped Aelin into his low, expensive sports car that was his prized possession. Aelin’s face scrunched up then a sharp gasp left her mouth, her hand flying to her stomach.

“I think squatting down trying to get into this thing just broke my water,” her eyes were wide with fear as she looked up at Fenrys.

Fenrys face was comical, his own eyes widening like saucers and his mouth dropped. Sure enough, the bottom of her dress was wet. Fenrys was frozen for a second his mind completely emptied out, then the panic set in sending a million thoughts racing through his head.

Fenrys audibly gulped, “Okay, um, I’m calling Rowan.” Fenrys grabbed his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with the device as he dialed Rowan’s contact, willing him to pick up.

Fenrys leaned slightly against the open passenger door as the phone rang. “You’ve reached Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your call, please leave a message and I’ll -.”

Fenrys hung up and groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. Beside him, Aelin whimpered. “Holy shit, that was not fake,” she groaned, her grip tightening on the seat beneath her.

“Oh, gods, Aelin, please don’t give birth in my Mercedes,” he begged.

“Really, Fen?” She narrowed her eyes at him, she’d probably kick him in the groin if she wasn’t incapacitated.

“You know I love you, but I don’t want baby juice on the leather.”

“Just call Rowan again,” Aelin growled.

Fenrys did just that, silently pleading with the universe for Rowan to pick up his gods-damn phone. Relief washed over him as the call connected.

“Fen, I’m in a meeting this better be worth my while,” Rowan whispered harshly, he hated to be interrupted at work by anyone except Aelin.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your wife’s water did just break but I guess I’ll call back later,” Fenrys spat, growing increasingly flustered by the minute.

Fenrys heard a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, shit, okay, where are you? I’m coming right now,” the jingle of keys filled Fenrys’ ear from Rowan's end of the call.

As Fenrys surveyed his surrounding the urge to laugh crept upon him, he fought his smile as he replied, “The Target parking lot.”

Aelin watched the exchange closely cluing in on Fenrys’ suppressed laughter. “It’s not funny, Fen!”

“It’s a little funny. I mean if anyone was going to have a baby in a Target parking lot, it’d be you. Or Lysandra. One of you two.”

Aelin snatched the phone out of Fenrys’ hand, pressing it to her ear. “Rowan,” she panted, resting her head on the side of the car.

Fenrys couldn’t hear much of what Rowan was saying, he spoke in a low voice trying to calm Aelin, assuring her he was coming and he loved her and she was okay.

They were sickeningly in love, Fenrys would admit.

“Okay, I love you too,” Aelin breathed, hanging up the phone and handing it back to Fenrys.

Fenrys leaned against the side of the car as they awaited Rowan’s arrival. “Cross your legs, Ace. Remember, no baby juice in the car,” he reminded her, trying his best to keep her mind off of what was happening while they waited.

“Go to hell,” Aelin murmured in the midst of a contraction. Fenrys wasn’t sure what to do so he bent forward to rub Aelin’s shoulder in an attempt to do what, he wasn’t sure. Aelin didn't yell at him though so he rubbed circles on her shoulder as she clung onto the seat.

Rowan showed up only a few minutes later, tearing into the parking lot like a bat out of hell, so at odds with his usual slow and steady driving style. He jumped out of the car, his tie loosened around his neck as he rushed to Aelin’s side.

He kneeled down next to the open car door, picking up her hand and brushing away the stray blonde strands of hair from her splotchy face. “I’m here, Fireheart. How far apart are your contractions?”

“I don’t know,” Aelin hissed. “Okay, okay, let’s just get you in the car and to the hospital,” Rowan decided, supporting Aelin as she eased out of the car, leaning heavily upon him.

Fenrys and Rowan successfully got Aelin into the passenger seat of his car, Rowan buckled her in and continued whispering words of love and support. Rowan rounded the car and hopped into the driver's side ready to book it to the hospital when one of the back doors opened and Fenrys slid in.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rowan asked, shifting in his seat to look back at Fenrys.

“I’m coming, obviously. I’m about to be an uncle,” Fenrys stated clearly.

Rowan internally debated with himself on whether to kick Fen out of the car or not but ultimately decided he needed to prioritize Aelin, if Fen wants to tag along then fine.

The ride to the hospital was tense, Rowan held Aelin’s hand across the center console, kissing the back of it and consoling her. Fenrys felt as though he was intruding but he refused to miss the birth of his niece.

Of course, once they were admitted to the hospital Fenrys was kicked to the waiting room while Rowan supported Aelin through the duration of her labor.

It progressed surprisingly quickly after her water broke, it was only a few hours later when a nurse told Fen he could come see the baby.

Fenrys pushed open the door to the room softly and peered in. On the bed was Aelin, her golden hair a fan around her and despite the traumatizing ordeal she was glowing. A small baby was wrapped up in a blanket, laying in Aelin’s arms. Rowan was at her side, peering down at the bundle in her arms with so much love Fenrys felt as though he should look away. The new parents were already smitten with their little human, running their fingers over her cheek.

Aelin perked up as Fenrys stepped into the room. She ushered him over and he too inspected the baby. She was so small, sleeping contently in her mother’s arms. Fen thought she had Rowan’s nose and he could see wisps of blonde hair from beneath her wool beanie.

“Is her name Target? Or Bullseye like the dog?” Fenrys quipped with a playful smile.

Aelin rolled her eyes as he interrupted the tender, intimate moment and shoved his shoulder with a shocking amount of strength for a woman who’d just pushed a whole baby out.

“No,” Rowan answered, his eyes not leaving Aelin or the baby, “Her name is Elora.”

“Elora,” Fenrys repeated. “She’s beautiful, Aelin.”

Aelin gave him a soft smile and Elora yawned, her little eyes fluttering open. She gazed up at Fenrys with eyes the color of a pine forest.

Fenrys beamed at the small girl and he liked to think she almost smiled back.

~~~

kinda leaning on the side of an aelin and fenrys brotp fic but i couldn’t not publish it, it’s so cute. it’s not as fluffy as i’d like it to be but it was supposed to be more funny, nonetheless, i have more rowaelin baby content planned that is very fluffy.

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin month

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too. “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.” Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Note

"do you ever mean the things you say?" for elorcan obvi. make me sad😌

ummm. tee hee. i switched it a bit lolz.

Elide stumbled out of the club, frowning down at her shoes. She couldn’t remember why she had ever let Aelin talk her into wearing them.

Everything her friend owned dripped with luxury and beauty, but it wasn’t ever Elide’s style.

She frowned and stood at the curb, mutely staring at the road. She should call a cab, probably, and go home. It was cold and becoming increasingly difficult for Elide to remember herself or focus her vision on anything. On top of that, she knew that she was slurring her speech and that she had lost control on a variety of functions hours ago.

Elide dug her hand into her small purse and fished her phone out. The brightness of the screen was blinding, but her hands were too clumsy to lower it. She managed to hit contacts and scrolled through her saved favourites.

It took one glance at that one name for Elide to pause. She stared down at it, so taunting and callous. Her thumb hovered over his name for three seconds before she pressed it and lifted the phone to her ear.

The line rang for a long while and Elide felt what remained of her tattered heart sink to her stomach, but then there came a distinct click and that voice she missed so.

“Lee?”

She grinned at his greeting, her voice high and girlish like it normally wasn’t. “Hiiiii.”

He sighed through his nose, “Seriously, Lochan? You’re calling me ‘cause you’re drunk?”

Elide frowned and kicked the ground absentmindedly as she crossed her free arm over her torso. “No, th-that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Then why are you calling me, Lochan. ‘m sleeping here.”

“I need a ride,” Elide told him, “and I’m... I’m drunk, so I can’t drive.” She paused, suddenly terrified that he wouldn’t understand what she hadn’t asked. Yet. Her voice was small, “Will you pick me up?”

For a long, long moment, Lorcan didn’t answer. Elide swallowed back tears, blinking furiously. “O-ok. I’m—”

“Where are you.”

She blinked, once. “Um... the Vaults. Ae-Aelin took me here. Sh-she s-says I ne-ed to get laid,” Elide told him.

Lorcan muttered a curse and it sounded like he was getting up. “Whatever. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t go anywhere, Lochan. You right outside?”

“Yup!”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon, ok?”

Elide nodded, smiling dreamily. “Ok.”

He chuckled drily, “Gods, I forgot how dumb you are when you drink.”

She squawked in inebriated outrage, “I am not dumb, Lorcan! Especially when I drink!” In the back of her head, a voice said, Some might think it’s dumb to call your ex-whatever. And you would only do that if you were drunk.

“Yeah, yeah, you right, sweetheart,” Lorcan said, the nickname slipping from his lips like it used to. “’kay, you gotta let me go so I can drive.”

Elide sighed and clumsily sat down, moving her long coat to protect the backs of her bare legs against the rough ground. “Ok... bye, I guess.”

He laughed quietly again and after he said good-bye, Elide ended the call. She put her phone back into her purse and pulled her coat tighter around her to ward off the icy wind.

Other patrons petered out and none of them bothered trying to speak to her as they called cabs and walked off into the night, their voices boisterous and joyful. Elide watched them walk away, the sense of loss and the ache of missing him stirring in her chest.

“Elide,” said a familiar rough voice. Someone crouched beside her and gently rested their large hand on her back. “Lee, can you hear me?”

Elide lifted her head and looked at Lorcan, smiling sweetly. “Hey, you.” He was wearing his sweatpants and a hoodie, which told her that he had been sleeping. She giggled at herself, shaking her head. He had told her he was sleeping when she first called him.

Lorcan sighed through his nose and stood, calmly helping her up. “C’mon, Lochan, let’s get you home.”

She nodded and focused on walking as he guided her towards his car. Like he used to, Lorcan opened the passenger seat door for her and waited to close it until Elide put on her seatbelt.

Her dark eyes tracked him as he walked around the front of the car to the driver’s seat. Elide leaned against the window and rested her head against it. The coolness was so lovely against her flushed skin.

Lorcan chuckled at the sight, “Still with me, sweet- Lochan?”

They both pretended to ignore his slip, like Elide had done before.

She wasn’t his sweetheart. Not anymore. Hardly ever, really.

So, Elide nodded and hummed, “Yeah... ‘t’s nice. ‘m too warm.”

“You’ll be home soon, don’t worry,” he said in a... gentle tone. Elide cracked an eye open and watched him carefully as he pulled away from the curb and drove through the city. Lorcan didn’t look her way, didn’t even budge, but he still noticed her stare. “Why’re you staring at me like that?”

Because I miss you. Elide wasn’t stupid enough to think that was something she should tell him, so she simply shrugged and mumbled something. She managed to doze the rest of the drive to her apartment complex.

When Lorcan parked and cut the engine, Elide stirred, but she didn’t wake up entirely until he opened her door, “We’re here. C’mon.” He helped her out of the car and let her hold onto his elbow as he led her to the building. Elide passed him her keys. The happy, warm buzz she’d gotten from the drinks she’d consumed had gone so suddenly, leaving Elide to feel queasy and embarrassed.

She shouldn’t have called him. She could’ve called Rowan or Fenrys or a fucking cab – anyone but Lorcan.

Her cheeks started to burn as they rode the elevator. Elide wanted to pull away from him, but she knew that if she did, she would fall, and besides, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming need to be near him like this again.

Lorcan noticed her silence and growing flush. He didn’t say a word about it, though.

The elevator stopped at her floor and they walked down to her unit. Again, Lorcan unlocked the door and opened it, revealinv to them both her cold and empty apartment.

Elide stepped in, but she tripped on the lip of the entryway carpet and would’ve fallen right on her face if Lorcan hadn’t caught her. “Woah, Lee. Careful.” He nudged her to the shoe bench and Elide gratefully sat, frowning at her shoes.

She pulled them off without grace and dropped her coat on a hook, not caring if it stuck or not. She pushed herself to her feet and walked through her apartment to her bedroom.

Lorcan didn’t follow her. She heard him walk, though, and then he turned on the sink to get her some water.

Her throat ached with tears and Elide stood in front of her dresser, trying to control herself. She had already cried everything she had for him.

As she undressed and reached for the clothes she used as pyjamas, her hands shook. Elide bit her inner cheek while she got changed and carefully padded out of her bedroom to the toilet.

Lorcan was standing in her kitchen, a glass of water resting on the counter. He walked over to the bathroom as she wiped a damp cloth over her face, not having any energy to devote to truly take her makeup off.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he waited for her. “You want water, Lee?”

Elide nodded demurely, refusing to meet his eye. “Sure.”

“Alright,” Lorcan said, shoving off the wall. He held his hand out and Elide put her hand in his, letting him walk her back to her room. “I’ll get it for you.”

She hummed and let go of his hand to crawl into bed, collapsing against the soft mattress and plush pillows. Elide pulled the thick duvet up to her chin and sighed gently, “Mmmm.”

Lorcan laughed quietly, “I’ll be right back.” He turned away, but didn’t walk away because Elide stopped him.

“Lor?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever mean the things you said?” Her eyes drooped shut and Elide struggled to stay awake. “About us?”

He looked at her, his face unreadable. “Once.”

“Really?” she hummed, turning over to press her face into her pillow. “Hmmm, when was that?”

Lorcan stayed silent for so long that Elide had fallen asleep by the time he mustered up the courage to speak again.

“When I told you I loved you.”

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btsinwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 11: Confused

A Loki fanfiction!

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Full Chapter List

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He stared at you and put a hand to your chin. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

You blushed and moved your face close to his, much braver than you really were, since you knew it was a dream. His gaze bore through yours and he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to yours. Unbidden, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss. It was a feeling of complete ecstasy. Though, you felt strangely weighted on one side of your body than the other and you did not know why. You brushed that thought aside and continued to kiss Loki. His lips were so smooth it drove you mad.

“Oh, Loki,” you said, licking across his lips.

“Had I known you would be this...zealous in the morning, I might have had you here sooner,” his voice was a low purr.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked into his wide blues. Oh no. Oh god. Your stomach dropped as you rubbed your lips together and felt wetness...his saliva. Your professor’s saliva.

You launched yourself away from him so hard that you fell off the bed in a pile of sheets and a pillow you tried grabbing onto.

Professor Laufeyson’s dark head peeked over the side of the bed, eyebrows raised. “Are you alright Miss Eves?”

You felt for your clothes, relieved to feel them there and that you had not stripped them off in the middle of the night like a lust driven maniac. The desire to disappear into the ground occurred, but you forced yourself to raise your eyes and look up at him. “Professor, I am so sorry, I-I thought it was a dream.”

He rolled over onto his stomach and rested his head in his hands with a smirk. “And what, pray tell, would you be dreaming about, Miss Eves?” He said with an eyebrow raised as he looked down at your body. You felt yourself grow self-conscious and lifted the sheet closer to you even though you were clothed. He had never looked at you like that before. There was a mischievous gleam in his gaze that made you feel like you were the only interesting thing in the room. And that was a dangerous notion.

You glanced at his side where the wound was. The bandages. “How are you feeling?”

He looked down at himself and lightly grazed the spot. “Well, it seems you picked the right potion, since I have not grown any vestigial organs,” he looked back at you and smiled. “You saved my life, Miss Eves.”

You looked away from his intense gaze. “T-thank you for coming to get me back there. You saved my life too.” Then a thought popped into your mind. You cocked your head to the side. “If you could apparate us out of there, why did you wait until Fenris recovered? Why didn’t you get us out of there right away?” You looked at him and he smiled wider, like a cat caught with a canary in its mouth.

Your butterflies withered away in anger. “You didn’t come for me. You went to look for Fenris to find the Tesseract!”

He got off the bed and circled his hands in the air. The sheets levitated off of you and neatly reassembled themselves atop the bed. “I saw students go where they ought not to be, so I did my duty as a professor. Then, there was an opportunity so -”

“An opportunity?” You said, indignant. “Before or after I get eaten by the beast?”

He stopped arranging his bed and walked around it, towards you. “Come off the floor, love.”

You refused to take his hand, but you sat on the bed beside him, crossing your arms.

He smiled at your movements in the sort of way that could disarm you completely, but you held strong against his charms. He reached out to your face and moved a stray lock of hair away. His fingers lingered there, and he caressed your cheek. “I would not let anything happen to you. In all honesty, I had not planned to face the creature this early, but I went into the forest because of you.”

The butterflies came back slowly, one at a time, filling your stomach with a steady mixture of happiness and fear. “So, you will go after Fenris again? Even though you nearly died this time?”

Professor Laufeyson lowered his hand and took a breath. He looked away from you for a moment, and you thought you saw a look of forlorn on his face. “Yes I will, but,” he said, turning back to you, “it will be on the coldest night of winter, for that is apparent when he is at his weakest.”

Your eyes lit up. “So that’s at least two months from now!” I can still save him.

Professor Laufeyson chuckled at your excitement. Then his gaze darkened as he looked at you with that look in his eyes that made your heart leap into your throat. He leaned towards you and spoke in your ear. “Now, what shall I do to bide my time?” His voice was low and husky.

You felt your nipples harden underneath your shirt and reflexively leaned into his body as he placed one gentle kiss on your neck. Then, as soon as you felt him, he was gone, and you nearly fell back onto the bed. You looked up, confused to see him standing at the end of the bed, with a wide grin.

“As your professor, Miss Eves, it is my duty to reprimand you for breaking the rules. I will speak with the head of your house, Professor Bjorn, regarding your...punishment. For now, minus thirty points for Hufflepuff.”

You scoffed. “What?”

His eyes glinted dangerously. “Did you really think I would let you run free when you nearly killed yourself and endangered two other students? There are no favourites to be played here, Miss Eves, if that’s what you were thinking.” His gaze lowered and though his words were completely proper, the low tone of his voice and the intensity of his gaze seemed to say something else entirely. Just wait and see, he seemed to say. “I’ll put in a good word with the Headmistress not to expel you and your friends, since you did manage to save the boy.” He actually winked at you and gestured to the door for you to leave. “You may want to visit your friends in the infirmary. I’m sure they’ll be worried sick.”

Still in shock about the drastic change of tone, you got up and walked to the door. You looked back, wondering what happened, or if you had done something to elicit the change. When you looked back at him, he was occupied with arranging his wardrobe for the day, not even looking at you.

Your heart sank a little, but you left without another word.

***

After a long warm shower, and a change of clothes, you felt a bit like yourself again. Your black pleated skirt hung crisply over your thighs and you adored the feeling of putting on fresh black knee-high socks. You sighed with a comforted relief. Your hair was damp, clean and smelled subtly of roses.

You tried to avoid thinking about Professor Laufeyson and failed miserably. It was the thought of being suspended that lingered in your brain. What if he could not convince Headmistress Frigga not to expel you? It was not as if he curried much favour with anyone at the school.

Then there was his strange behaviour. Was it because you accidentally kissed him? Oh, what a fool! How incredibly inappropriate. You berated yourself, though a small part of you, the evil hedonistic part, cheered you on grandly. For a brief moment, you thought he had enjoyed himself...just a little? Though, he was the type of person who always seemed to enjoy themselves, whether or not they really did. Professor Laufeyson could put on whatever emotion he wanted like a second skin, regardless of what he felt underneath.

An annoyed huff escaped your lips as you passed the halls and walked to the infirmary.

“You lying, cheating scum!”

Turning around, you saw a livid Valkyrie stalk towards you as if she might attack. Oh dear, she looked terribly angry.

You raised your hands up in defense. “Listen-”

“Oh, don’t you ‘listen’ me! I can’t believe you went off to the Forbidden Forest and nearly got yourself killed without me!” She looked genuinely hurt, though you burst into laughter.

“I-I’m sorry, you were injured, and I didn’t want to put you in danger!” you said, and she punched you in the arm. “Ow! I’m quite bruised I’ll have you know,” you said, frowning.

“Oh sod off, you seem well enough...but I am proud of you,” she said, linking her arm through yours with a grumble.

You glanced at her with a grateful smile. The best thing about Valkyrie was that she never stayed mad for long, though it happened frequently.

“You saved the kid, and I’m bloody jealous! You’re gonna ruin Gryffindor’s reputation with that attitude,” she said, elbowing you gently.

Both of you laughed and headed towards the infirmary. You were cut off when you saw Headmistress Frigga along with several other teachers waiting for you.

“I see you’re well,” Headmistress Frigga said, looking down at you. A twinkle remained in her eyes and you could not tell whether she was angry or impressed.

Beside her stood Professor Sif, Bjorn, Heimdall, Fandral, and Hogun. Professor Sif looked angry as ever and threw you and Valkyrie a poisonous gaze. Professor Bjorn stood off to the side, holding his hand stiffly in his pocket as if were trying to concentrate on staying absolutely still. Professor Heimdall looked through you with disappointment, and that was what initially soured your laughter right away. Fandral and Hogun looked stern, though they regarded you with a sympathetic smile.

You hung your head and let go of Valkyrie, who whispered “good luck”.

“Can I see them?” you said.

“Absolutely not!” Professor Sif spat.

Headmistress Frigga chuckled. “Now, now, Professor Sif, I think that she deserves to check in on her friends. Pom has been asking about you all morning.”

She led you to the main room where several of those students who suffered injuries from the bird attack during the Quidditch game laid in bed. Though the room felt smaller than the last time you were there visiting Valkyrie.

There was Pom, sitting in a chair beside her brother, who laid in bed with a large bandage on the side of his body. There was a space where his arm should have been and your heart twinged for him. You had not heard of any spell or potion that could regenerate an entire limb.

“Freya!” Pom said, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. She jumped off her chair and ran to embrace you.

You smiled and hugged her back tightly. “I’m so glad he’s alright,” you said.

Pom stepped towards her brother, who was sleeping, and brushed his hand. “He’s alive because of you, and I don't know how we could ever repay you.” She looked back at you with tears in her eyes.

“He’s alive, and that’s all that matters,” you said, smiling at Pom.

Headmistress Frigga stood to the side, waiting for you. You turned to her and pleaded, “please don’t punish them. I made Mo and Pom come with me. It was all my fault.”

Pom was beginning to protest, but you cut her off with a look.

The Headmistress smiled at you with a knowing expression. “Come, Freya.” She led you away from the bed and towards the infirmary exit where the others were. “What you did some might consider foolish,” she said, hands clasped behind her back.

You looked at the floor as you walked.

“But others may call it brave.”

You glanced at her and she looked at you with a twinkle in her eyes. “I cannot condone your behavior, Freya, but you did manage to rescue Ken Clemmens. I don’t think he would have survived another day alone had you not found him. Fifty points shall be awarded to Hufflepuff for your bravery.”

As you entered the hallway where the professors stood, a small smile reached your lips at Headmistress Frigga’s generosity. A glare from Professor Sif wiped the smile off your face as you awaited your punishment. But you felt a little lighter knowing you would not be expelled.

“Well, it seems we have some punishments to dole out, don’t we?” Headmistress Frigga said. “Miss Clemmens will be assisting Professor Fandral for detention for the rest of the term, while Mister Darwish will assist Professor Hogun in the gardens. As for you, Miss Eves, you will be assisting Professor Sif this week with events preparation. The Halloween Ball was set to be cancelled. However, I believe it is a time to celebrate, now that we have our missing student alive and well.”

You lightened a little more at your punishment, though you were not excited to spend any more time with Sif. The Halloween Ball was something you and Valkyrie looked forward to every year.

“And, for the rest of the term, Miss Eves will assist Professor Laufeyson for detention,” the Headmistress announced.

You felt your stomach drop. “Excuse me, madame?”

Professor Fandral saw the terror on your face and said to the Headmistress, “Are you sure? She can assist me with Miss Clemmens if she would like.”

Professor Bjorn coughed and said in his raspy voice, “or she can assist me, out in the fields. I got flobberworms eatin’ all the cabbages.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of detention with Professor Laufeyson, though not all of it was dread.

Professor Sif grumbled. “Nobody switches detention. What, Miss Eves, are you scared of our new Potions master?” She said with a vicious smile and a raised brow.

A sudden flash of jealousy hit you when you realized Professor Sif must have been thinking of the night she and Professor Laufeyson had...relations. You raised your eyes to face her. “No, I am not.”

“Lovely!” Headmistress Frigga said with a clap of her hands. “Then let us embark on the month of October with raised spirits, and a better inclination to follow the rules, hm?” Headmistress Frigga said, adding the last bit in a lower tone for you.

You nodded as your stomach was once again home to thousands of butterflies just wondering what in all hell Professor Laufeyson would do with you in detention.

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐎𝐧𝐞

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Rowan glanced at his pocket watch and attempted to swallow his irritation.

How was it only nine-o-clock still? He had already suffered through enough social niceties to last a lifetime.

Now, he listened with but half a mind to his cousin drone on about the night's guests. His head was filled with all the tasks he needed to see to, including searching for a new governess for his sons. His boys kept chasing away every woman he employed and he was hesitant to hire a tutor, because he believed they needed a woman's influence too, now that his own wife was too ill. The physician had done all he could but there was not much hope she would wake, loathe as he was to admit it. Perhaps he should have accepted his mother-in-law's offer and send the boys to their her after all?

"--and Arobynn's here too—"

That caught his attention. "He is?"

"Mhmm. Look, over there, no, no, to the left—besides the pretty redhead, yes, just so."

A man stood by the entrance with a red-haired woman on his arm, tall and muscular, with a fine-boned face. His auburn hair were pulled back into a bun, offsetting his pale skin and the fine cut of his suit was a stark reminder of his prominent position in society, despite the whole stigma around tradesmen.

"I knew he was fond of flaunting convention but escorting his mistress to a ball?"

"You haven't heard?" James approached them with a drink in his hand. "She is not his mistress but an adoptive daughter of sorts and his apparent heir."

Fenrys choked on his drink.

"He named a girl heir to his trade empire—and not even his own blood—stupid!"

"Spoken like a man," said the gentleman and shook his head. "He raised her himself, is introducing her to all his associates and she doesn't look dumb either."

James nodded towards the redhead he had seen earlier, dressed in the finest black silk with a neckline low enough, it bordered on scandalous. Her copperish-red hair were pinned into an elegant coiffure with pretty, gold hair combs and a simple, pearl necklace completed the striking picture she made. Her sharp, defined features were barely beautiful until she laughed—a musical sound in itself—and he wondered whether he had seen anyone prettier.

"If hers was the last face I ever saw, I'd die a happy man." Fenrys sighed and walked off.

James rolled his eyes. "He's about to seek an introduction to her, isn't he?"

Rowan's lips twitched up.

He had always liked James. The man was completely without artifice and his enthusiasm for everything was so infectious, no one could remain angry with him. He had spent a few summers with the Galathynius children, until their youngest daughter was abducted and the visits stopped.

"I say you must frown a little less, sir, unless you wish to give offense."

Rowan looked up, startled at being addressed by the object of his thoughts. She looks even lovelier up close, thought he.

"I detest these events."

"So do half the people in this room and yet, appearances must be maintained."

"Deceit is not in my nature."

The lady frowned. "It is not deceitful to pretend you are interested in an event in order to spare your host's feelings."

"Your motive may be charitable but it is no excuse for dishonesty."

The lady looked amused but did not pursue the topic further. "I hope you will forgive me for speaking without a proper introduction, sir. I am not a fan of convention."

Rowan smiled.

An unmarried woman, not even of age, and already a heiress to a trade empire—by all accounts, she did not seem like one.

"I will, if you allow me to remedy the situation now." He bowed with exaggerated formality. "I am Mr. Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, in Doranelle."

Her cheek dimpled. "Miss Celaena Sardothein—my father—"

"Mr. Hamel, yes, I know." He almost cringed at how rude he sounded. "He and I, we are—"

"—business associates, yes, I know," she teased with an impish grin, replying in a poor imitation of his own deep voice.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, filled with laughter and mirth—turquoise orbs, ringed with brilliant gold.

All of his resolve flew out of the window. "Miss Sardothein, will you allow me the pleasure of leading you into the first set? The dancing is about to commence."

"The pleasure will be all mine."

In hopes of starting a conversation, he said, "You are a fine dancer."

"I would have believed you to be a liar if we hadn't already established that deceit of any sort is your abhorrence."

He smiled. "And if I were being insincere?"

"I would take it as a compliment to myself, for it will mean that you are acting on my advice from earlier about lying for the sake of appearances."

They fell silent again.

"We must talk some, you know," said Rowan. "For someone who claims to be concerned with appearances, do you not think it would look odd for us to spend a half hour together but in silence."

She startled at the sudden statement. "Introduce a topic then and I will do my poor best to maintain the conversation."

Rowan complied and was pleasantly surprised to find her lively and good-humored and well-informed on most subject from current fashion disasters to books to political bills and movements. Her arguements were passionate and far from taking offense at his dry humor, she matched it with witty quips of her own; and to top it alll off, she was as skilled a dancer as a conversationalist.

Rowan was almost annoyed when the song came to an end. He could not recall the last time he had been half as well entertained.

"You will be the death of me, you foolish, foolish chit!" screeched the old matron.

Fenrys had allowed himself to be dragged into a bookstore, which happened to be one of his least favourite places, by his cousin, James—the second son to his uncle, Lord Rhoe, the Earl of Narrowcreek—and was now eager for any sort of amusement. He turned towards the high-pitched shriek with interest.

A young lady stood near the shelves, tall and proud, even in the face of her mother's ill-bred manners.

Her blonde hair fell down in waves, half pinned by dragonfly-shaped hair combs. The fabric of her dress was fine enough for her to belong to the first circles and yet, he could not recall seeing her—or her mother—anywhere.

"Ungrateful child! Wait until I tell your father what you did; he will be most displeased."

She bit her lip to contain her mirth, though her cheeks flushed with embarassment. Her eyes flitted to the door and back, as if she was looking for some escape.

"Poor girl," the bookshop owner murmured.

The following words had the unfortunate attention of drawing the mother's attention towards the owner.

Lord Fenrys almost laughed at the alarmed look on the owner's face when she began lamenting to him instead and then looked over at the lady who was staring at the door with a thoughtful look, as if wondering whether or not to attempt an escape.

She must have decided in it's favour because she gathered her skirts and made a mad dash towards the door.

Fenrys realised he was standing in her way and hastened to move but it was too late—

"Darn!" cried she.

The commotion drew her mother's attention and upon spotting her wayward daughter lying on the floor with a grimace, she rushed over with a whole new litany of complaints.

Fenrys could have sworn the lady cursed under her breath.

"Stubborn, stubborn child! I told you not to run off without me but oh, how you love vexing me," shouted her mother in her high-pitched voice. "And what are you doing, bothering this fine gentleman over here? You had better not to talk to anyone if you are determined to refuse them all. You broke that poor man's heart—"

Fenrys quirked an eyebrow in interest, looking thoroughly entertained.

Her cheeks flushed further.

He frowned.

Up close, her face looked awfully familiar. He searched his brain for an answer.

A memory flashed in front of his mind. A highly unconventional black dress, a tinkling laugh and a ballroom.

Realisation dawned.

"Miss Sardothein! Fancy seeing you here," said he. "I almost didn't recognise you because of the hair."

"The hair? Oh, yes, I am very fond of dyes, but you have caught me in my natural state."

"I find you lovelier than ever. If you will forgive me for prying, I could not help but observe you haven't bought a thing yet, even though I know you to be a great reader! Is the reading material not to your taste, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena answered wryly, "As a matter of fact, the books here suit my tastes very well—It is only that I am not allowed to buy books for a month—as punishment."

"No books! And what awful crime did you commit to merit that?"

"I rejected a marriage offer."

"A capital offense!"

Celaena smiled, "Indeed."

"I hope you are appropriately ashamed of yourself!"

"Horrified at my own audacity, really."

The lady looked up at him and grinned; Fenrys' own face turned pale and his mouth fell open in surprise. Ashryver eyes! She had ashryver eyes—like James, Aedion, and their mothers Helen and Evalin and—gods. The little poem his cousins had made up in childhood came to the forefront of his mind.

"The fairest eyes, from legends old,

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold."

But how...?

He looked at the woman again: her eyes bright and mirthful and thick eyelashes resting on her cheek, the face tugged at his memory; and she smiled so impishly, he had seen that smile before—

"Aelin," he blurted out.

He was startled when her smile dropped and recognition flickered in her eyes.

Fenrys shot an alarmed look towards the shelf behind which James had disappeared. Aelin was here! But how could this be? His heart thumped loudly inside his chest.

"Aelin?" She inclined her head in question.

He smiled uncertainly.

Was she really his little cousin? Aelin had been five year old when he last saw her.

But if he was wrong about this, could this come to bite him in the ass? She was certainly as old as his cousin would have been, had she been alive and she had the same unruly blonde curls and those ashryver eyes, teeming with life.

It couldn't be...

Arobynn's adoptive daughter.

"Yes, Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her."

"If she is your favourite, then I am inclined to take that as a compliment." Celaena—Aelin?—smiled again, though her eyebrows remained drawn still. "The name does sound familiar. Perhaps I would have heard of her in the newspaper? The society column is a great source of amusement to my father. He reads it aloud to us from time to time."

Father? He wondered if she was talking of Arobynn or Mrs. Rhunn's husband.

Fenrys smiled sadly. "That is not possible for you see, my cousin died when she was five."

At least I thought she died.

"I am sorry for your loss." Then, with an arch look on her face, she asked, "If she was like me as you say, she must have been delightful."

He chuckled. "An absolute troublemaker."

"Definitely like me then," said she, sparing a look towards her mother. "I should leave now, before my mother lists you off as yet another suitor!"

And before he could think to stop her, she curtsied and scurried off.

Fenrys stared at the door, somewhat dumbfounded. Aelin is alive. He marvelled at the thought and then wondered how on earth he would inform her family—James would be ecstatic and his father would have to be informed, and Edward would have to be called to London, gods. Edward!

Aelin had been missed by all but no one grieved her as the poor man had.

Edward would be ecstatic; everyone would.

Fenrys ran towards his cousin out of breath, who was still examining titles in one corner.

"Fenrys, god, slow down, man! Whatever happened? You look like you saw a ghost."

He blinked.

Then, without any attempt at tact or discretion, he blurted out: "Aelin is alive."

"Aelin, Aelin, stop that—no, look at your frock, mother will be so angry, no, Aelin! You will hurt yourself like that."

The man watched, concealed behind the ridge as a little girl skipped from one mud puddle to another, blonde curls bouncing up and down as she moved. Her elder brother followed at a more sedate place, calling out admonishments and threats, not that they had an effect on her.

Aelin grinned over her shoulder and ran, leading her brother on a merry chase.

The man was still debating how to go about abducting the girl when fortune smiled upon him; she twisted her leg and fell down, prompting the boy to run towards her.

"It hurts," she whimpered, refusing to stand.

The man smiled maliciously and waited as the boy looked around. "Very well," he said finally. "If you promise not to go anywhere, I will fetch papa. Do not move, Aelin."

The boy rushed towards the manor house, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach and burst into his father's private study. In his panicked state of mind, it took a few attempts for Rhoe to make sense of his garbled words.

A foreboding feeling rose in his stomach.

She will be fine, he tried to reassure himself. Aelin, troublemaker that she was, had had a lot worse than a twisted ankle.

But his alarm grew the nearer they came to where she was supposed to be and his heart pounded inside his chest. All colour drained from his face when they didn't find Aelin where she was supposed to be.

"Are you certain this is where you left her?"

Edward nodded.

Rhoe suddenly felt dizzy, his knees buckled and bile rose up in his throat.

He reined himself in and with admirable composure, organised search parties to search around the estate and the neighbourhood.

The search carried on until late that night, when an express rider from the nearby magistrate arrived with a letter: a nearby warehouse had burned down earlier that day and two bodies were found: a man in his forties, who could not be identified and a seven year old girl who had on a silver anklet bearing the word fireheart and requested Mr. Galathynius' presence tomorrow at the warehouse to confirm the girl's identity.

Rhoe folded the letter, excused himself from company and sent his sons to their beds.

Then he entered his study: the study no one was allowed to enter without permission—except his Aelin—slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and wept.

note: ...and it's here. I have so many drafts of this chapter lying around, I'm surprised I actually finally posted it lmao.

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#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #sarah j maas #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin regency fic #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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shyvioletcat · 4 years

Note

Okay last one (for now): “I need a hug. Please?” - fireman au of course :)

Happy Firefighter Friday! This one had been a long time coming. Happy Birthday @westofmoon

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan knew Aelin was frustrated, he was frustrated too, but granted his wife had reason to be more so. Their baby was due in just a little over a week and they were still stuck in their little apartment instead of being moved into their new house. All they were waiting for was for the current owner of their dream home to sign it over to them, but he had gone on an extended cruise and hadn't bothered to give them a hand while he was away. And it had been months. The house had been on the market for a while and he hadn't expected to suddenly sell according to the real estate agent. So now they were stuck in a limbo of being in between places. They had a bunch of their stuff in storage, most of the things for the baby in storage, all just waiting for the go ahead. Aelin had just suggested they break in and start living there, Rowan had told her multiple times that it was illegal. All they had to do was wait a few more days until the owner got back.

A heavy sigh had Rowan deflating from where he sat in the bed. He and his wife were currently in the middle of a discussion they'd been having for the past week. Aelin was pacing, well what she could manage in the restricted space of the bedroom, frustrated and boarding on just plain mad.

“I just think we should get the bassinet out of storage,” Rowan said.

Aelin sent him a glare. “No.”

“Aelin—“

“No, if we do that we’re jinxing it, we’re giving up,” Aelin replied, pausing her walking to rub her stomach. “The paperwork could come through any day now. We should be ready to go.”

Rowan held in his groan, giving himself a moment to collect himself. “I just think we need to be prepared.”

“I think you’re just fussing.”

This time Rowan couldn’t help himself. He tipped forward, elbows bracing on his knees, rubbing his face to muffled the frustrated sound. Words he would probably regret were on the tip of his tongue when he heard his phone ringing from the kitchen bench. Rowan didn’t hesitate as he stood and went to go get it.

“We’re not finished with this,” Aelin called after him.

“I’m just getting the phone, dear,” Rowan called right back,

Reaching the kitchen Rowan saw that it was his mother calling and relief flooded through him. She was coming to spend a week with them, to help where she could and give Aelin some company as they waited for both the house and baby, and while Rowan was on night shift. This call must be to let him know she was downstairs.

“Hey, Mum,” Rowan said as he answered.

“Hello son, the cab just dropped me off,” Iris said, getting straight to the point like always.

“I’ll be right down,” Rowan said and then hung up. “Aelin,” Rowan called but there was no answer. “Aelin?”

He walked back to the bedroom and found Aelin sitting on the bed, furiously wiping away tears.

“Fireheart,” Rowan said softly, sitting down next to her.

A shuddering sob was all she answered at first. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“I know,” he said consolingly.

“We were meant to be in our house, with the room painted and set out and everything. But we’re here, not there,” Aelin lent into his shoulder as she started crying again.

“What do you need?” Rowan asked, smoothing his hand over her hair.

“I need a hug,” Aelin's voice was muffled and she looked up at him with watery eyes. “Please?”

“Of course,” Rowan answered and wrapped his arms around her the best he could and her arms held tightly around his waist. They just stayed that way for a few long minutes.

“Was that your mother on the phone?” Aelin asked after a while.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs,” Rowan murmured into her hair.

“You should go help her,” Aelin said, pulling away from him. “I can’t wait until we live somewhere where we do not have to climb six flights of stairs to get home.”

“Soon,” Rowan said and kissed her. “I promise.”

~~~~~

Aelin was trying to keep busy to keep herself distracted. If she didn’t have time to think about their lack of home, she wouldn’t have time to cry about it. So, she was currently wiping out the kitchen cupboards, the few cups and plates that they hadn’t packed up spread over the floor. This was nesting, she knew that, but she preferred to think of it as moving preparation.

Iris was sitting on the couch, folding clothes to help out. Aelin was glad Iris had come to stay, her mother was prone to fretting over her, which just made Aelin’s anxieties worse. Iris had a steady, calming presence, much like her son.

“Ah,” Aelin exclaimed as her back cramped suddenly. It had been doing that for the past hour every once and awhile, sitting on the floor in this position was not the greatest thing to be doing just nigh on 9 months pregnant.

It didn’t take long for Iris to be in the kitchen with her, fussing also ran in the family it seemed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Aelin said, “I think I’ve just been on the floor for too long.”

“Why don’t you go lie down,” Iris said, shifting some of the cups around so she could help Aelin up a bit easier. “Maybe have a nap while I get dinner ready?”

“You don’t have to,” Aelin said even though she knew it was pointless.

Iris did her best to contain her good natured eye roll but Aelin still saw the little that was there to see. Then Iris extended her hands and helped Aelin up just as her back ached again, bad enough she held onto the kitchen counter to steady herself.

“Just go lie down,” Iris reaffirmed.

Aelin didn’t see the point in arguing. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Aelin waddled off to her bedroom, not bothering to close the door before she climbed into bed, shifting over so she could sleep on Rowan’s side. Breathing in his comforting scent, it wasn’t long before she drifted off.

Pain pulled Aelin from her sleep, she didn’t know how long she had been out, but the bedroom was dark so it was obviously night. Not wanting to wake up just yet, she closed her eyes again and was just drifting off when another pain had her groaning. Again, Aelin willed sleep to come and it was just in her grasp when there was another pain, this one accompanied by a tightening sensation over her stomach. That made her suddenly so very awake.

Aelin found her phone and checked the time, then she just lay there in the dark and waited. The pain happened again and she was sitting up.

“No,” Aelin said as she reached over and turned her lamp on. “Nononono. Not yet!”

“Aelin?” Iris called. “Are you up?”

“Yep,” Aelin said, hand rubbing over her stomach, feeling the baby move beneath her hand.

Iris stepped into the room and turned the light on. “Everything okay?”

“I think I might be having contractions,” Aelin said quietly, not quite believing those words were coming out of her mouth.

“Have you time them?” Iris asked so calmly.

“No, just they’re regular, I think. I don’t know,” Aelin said. “It’s too early.” Her panic was rising by the second. “It's too early, these can’t be contractions. It’s not time.”

“Babies run on their schedules, but this could just be false contractions,” Iris explained. “Why don’t you have a warm shower, hmm? It will help with relaxing your body.”

“Okay,” Aelin said, her voice a little shaky. “Sounds good.”

Iris gave her hand a reassuring squeeze then Aelin was pushing herself off the bed and heading to the shower, just hoping that her mother in law was right and a warm shower would solve everything.

~~~~~

It was just past dinner time and Rowan was feeling a little on edge. He hated leaving Aelin tonight. She had been so upset over the bassinet and the whole situation. He had left a little earlier than he normally would have to pick it up before he came into work, the bassinet and stand were currently in the back of his truck. Rowan was aware that Aelin hated the idea, that she just wanted to have it set up in the baby’s perfect room in their new house, but he wanted to side with caution on this one.

He was just writing a text to Aelin when he was interrupted by his mother calling him. He didn’t waste any time before answering. “Hi, Mum. How’s my wife and child?”

“Sweetie,” his mother said, her voice making him sit up a bit straighter. “I think you need to come home.”

“Why? I’ve got a few hours left,” Rowan said despite his slowly rising panic. “I’ll be home soonish. Well, not exactly. But Aelin should be sleeping soon.”

“No. You need to come home right now,” her voice was firm and brooked no argument.

His mother took in a breath like she was about to say something and Rowan was about to ask exactly why she was so insistent that he come home when he heard Aelin let out a panicked yelp and then her shrill voice. “I think my waters just broke.”

Rowan’s panic shot through the room, both his stomach and heart flipping, and he just sat there stunned for a moment. Then he sprung into action, “I’m coming. Tell Aelin I’m on my way.”

There was only one thing running through Rowan’s mind as he stood up. They were having a baby, Aelin was having the baby. Gods, they were having a baby. He tried to gather his things from his desk but he just ended up making more mess. He couldn’t remember where he left his keys.

Just then Lorcan walked into the room, blocking Rowan’s path out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lorcan said, but Rowan barely heard him.

“I have to go,” was all Rowan said.

Fenrys laughed from somewhere in the room. “What, is Aelin having the baby or something?”

“Yes.” Rowan went back to his desk to search for his keys again.

There were a few moments of silence before chaos broke out. Everyone was talking at once, but Rowan didn’t hear them, he just bellowed, “Where are my gods-damned keys!”

“Your locker!” Rowan heard one of them say, then he was moving. Despite the panic and nerves that were coursing through him as he ran to his car, Rowan couldn’t stop smiling. They were having a baby, and Rowan was just hoping that they would have enough time to get to the hospital so he would be able to keep his promise to Aelin and wouldn’t have to deliver it himself.

~~~~~

Aelin was beyond exhausted, the need to sleep tugging at every fibre of her being. But she didn’t want to sleep, not yet. Her daughter slept in her arms, the blanket draped over her loosely so that they were skin to skin. After her waters had broken in the shower Aelin had never felt panic like that before in her life. Iris had told her to stay there, keep the water running over her back. Aelin had listened, and listened to the stories Iris told about her son that he would have been absolutely mortified to know his mother had been diviling. But Iris had kept it up until Rowan had burst in, wide eyed and panicked just as much as Aelin was.

He didn’t show it though. Despite everything he felt, he was confident and calm and exactly the strength Aelin needed. He had held her through the whole thing, never leaving her side or wavering for one moment. And now hours later she was holding her newborn daughter in her arms.

They had named her Elspeth, and they were both unbelievable smitten. The only time Rowan had left Aelin’s side was to be with his daughter as the nurses checked her over. He hovered like the buzzard he was, probably getting in the way more than anything. But when Rowan had walked the baby back over to Aelin, tears falling unabashedly from his eyes, Aelin had never felt so complete. Elspeth whined, her body stretching a little and Aelin held her tighter as those precious eyes looked up at her. Rowan was dozing in the chair beside them, not quite asleep yet but it wouldn’t take him long. So when Aelin spoke it was a whisper.

“You couldn’t have waited a little longer, could you?” Aelin said. “We only needed one week more. But what can I say? You just had to make a dramatic entrance, just like Mummy likes to make. You’re just lucky you’re cute.”

Aelin’s words, no matter how softly spoken had woken Rowan up. “What was that, love?”

Rowan moved closer, standing up so he could look down and Aelin and their daughter, so much love radiating from the soft smile on his lips.

“Just commenting on our daughter’s dramatic entrance,” Aelin said. “I was saying she was just like her mother in that respect, but now that I think of it you’ve made your fair share of dramatic entrances too. Once in particular which we could probably attribute all this to.”

Aelin looked at Rowan, and he let out a soft laugh before he kissed her gently. “Breaking down your door was the best decision I ever made.”

Watching Rowan kiss their daughter before he so carefully gathered her to his own chest, Aelin was inclined to agree.

~~~~~

Now there’s a BABY! the possibilities...

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elentiyawhitethorn · 4 years

Text

Sneaking Around | Epilogue

Aelin was going to be in so much trouble.

She was supposed to be in the room where the prep for her wedding was taking place. Despite this, she had somehow ended up in the groom’s room with the skirt of her wedding dress pulled up around her waist. And the groom himself with his pants pulled down, fucking her mercilessly. Yep, her friends were going to kill her.

“Oh, Rowan, don’t stop. Oh gods. Fucking hell.”

Rowan chuckled as he pounded into her against the wall. “I think we’re supposed to be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone to know the groom saw the bride before the wedding.”

Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck, Ro, I’m so close. Release blasted through her. She had to bury her face in Rowan’s shoulder to muffle her moans.

He barely suppressed a groan as he came, spilling himself into her. Two years of dating and still neither could get enough.

Rowan pulled out of Aelin and disposed of the condom. He buttoned his pants as Aelin dropped her dress.

“Where are my panties?” Aelin asked. “Shit, do you see them, Ro?”

They looked around the room, to no avail. Rowan chuckled. “Looks like you’ll have to go without.”

Aelin scowled. “I am not getting married without underwear. Damn, I’m so late. They’re supposed to be doing my hair and makeup by now.”

“Just go. No one will know you’re not wearing underwear, and it will save me the trouble of taking them off later.” He was smirking.

Aelin punched him in the arm, hard. To his credit, he didn’t wince. “I fucking hate you.”

“So you tell me every day.” Rowan grinned.

Aelin frowned. “Ugh.” Then she ran out of the room, heels clicking on the tile, praying her friends wouldn’t notice the suspicious amount of time she’d been gone.

“Aelin, where have you been?” Lysandra hissed when she entered the bridal chamber. “I thought you were going to the bathroom.” So much for not noticing.

Ansel frowned. “Oh, honey, are you getting cold feet?”

“No, no,” Aelin said. “I just got lost.” She gestured vaguely.

Lys and Ansel were helping her get ready (or they had been anyway) and Fenrys was lounging in a chair, observing. He had claimed this room smelled nicer, leaving Rowan alone. Aelin just hadn’t been able to resist.

“How do you get lost in this place? The bathrooms are right across the hall.” Lys was frowning now too.

“Exactly,” Aelin declared. “And I didn’t know that, and ended up circling the whole building before I found it. Tragic, really.”

Fenrys snorted and Aelin shot him a glare. “Something to say, Moonbeam?”

He just grinned and looked her up and down, taking in her ruffled dress and flushed cheeks. “Not at all, darlin’.” Aelin scowled.

Lysandra sighed. “You couldn’t keep your clothes on for the rest of the day? Pathetic.”

Aelin glared hatefully at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just do my hair, please.”

Ansel snorted this time. “What are we, your maids?”

“I said please.”

Lysandra interjected. “Alright, we can shame her later. It’s time to get a move on.”

Aelin was properly beautified by the time she needed to walk down the aisle. Barely, though.

Aedion was charged with walking with her, their parents being dead and unable to give her away.

They were having a very small wedding. Other than Aedion, neither of the two had any living family and they didn’t want a bunch of people they barely knew witnessing this moment (or upping the cost of the buffet table). Aelin also didn’t want to slowly march down the aisle behind three of her friends like a parade, she claimed. She also hadn’t wanted to chose between her friends which would be bridesmaids. Therefore, she had none. Aelin had a knack for breaking traditions. And so Lys, Ansel, Fenrys, Manon, Elide, Gavriel, Connall, and Vaughan were all seated now. Lorcan was standing next to Rowan at the altar as best man.

Aelin strutted down the aisle, Aedion at her heels hissing to slow down. Finally, he gave up and seated himself, Aelin tossing a wink his way.

“Work that runway, girl,” Manon catcalled. Aelin smirked at her when she reached the altar next to Rowan, who was chuckling. Lorcan just snorted.

The priest started droning on about how they would be there for each other forever, but Aelin tuned him out and stared into Rowan’s eyes. They had decided against writing vows because they both knew what they meant to each other and told the other often enough. Also, Aelin didn’t want to try to put all the emotions she felt around him into words, all the love and happiness.

Rowan smirked at Aelin, probably recalling the fact that she was unclothed beneath her dress. She grinned back at him.

Someone cleared their throat. The priest. Aelin turned her head and let out a “Hm?”

“I said, Miss Galathynius, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Aelin said, “Oh, sorry, yeah. I mean, I do.” Snickers arose from their small audience. Yep, she was never going to live that down. She glanced back at Rowan, whose smirk had widened. Aelin scowled at him.

The priest repeated his words to Rowan, who said, “I do.” Damned bastard. He had been zoned out and staring at her too; why couldn’t the priest have asked him first?

The priest then declared they may kiss. Aelin immediately stepped forward, grabbed Rowan by the lapels, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. His hands found her waist, drawing out a couple of wolf-whistles from their friends. Aelin let go with one hand to flip them off without breaking the kiss.

After a minute, Aelin pulled back, grinning. Rowan smiled warmly at her. And just like that, they were married.

Rowan led Aelin to their apartment. It used to be his, but Aelin had moved in a while ago, drawing out a fuss from Ansel. As a peace offering, Aelin had coerced Fenrys to move in with Ansel. Perhaps not the best way to make a relationship more serious, but whatever.

They had the night together before leaving for their honeymoon the next morning. They were going to Switzerland for their honeymoon. They both agreed it was a beautiful place to stay. Fenrys had been especially supportive of the decision, claiming they could bring him some cheese. Aelin would have to check if that was legal.

Now, though, the newlyweds made it to the door. Aelin walked in after Rowan, kicking it closed behind her. “What should we do now, husband?” Aelin asked sweetly.

Rowan grinned back at her. He roughly pushed her against the door, pinning her hands beside her. “We should probably just go to sleep, wife. It’s been a long day, after all.”

Aelin smirked. “Good idea.” Neither of them moved. “Do you know what it’s like walking around in a breathable dress and no panties? I felt every draft.”

Rowan burst into laughter. “I’m so terribly sorry.” He pressed his lips to her neck, sucking gently. Rowan’s knee came up, parting her legs, then pressing into her center.

Aelin moaned, her head tipping back against the door. Rowan adjusted his knee and the mesh-like fabric under her dress caught on certain areas. “Oh,” Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck.” She was writhing now, squirming under his touch.

Rowan growled. “You’re mine.”

Aelin let out a gutteral groan. “And you’re mine.”

He slid his hands down to Aelin’s thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist. Rowan carried her to their bedroom, Aelin pressing her center against him all the while, desperate for the pressure.

Rowan set Aelin down gently, despite the ravenous gleam in his eyes, and stepped back to admire her.

Aelin lifted a hand to her dress, about to pull it off, when Rowan surged forward and grabbed her hand. “No. I’m going to fuck you in that dress. In that beautiful wedding dress.”

Aelin moaned. “Please. Please hurry. I need you.”

Rowan unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, Aelin watching intently.

His hard length sprung out and Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes away as Rowan stepped forward and grabbed her hips.

“I love you so much, Aelin. You don’t even know how much.”

She smirked. “I like to think I have some idea.” Aelin grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her. Rowan quickly balanced himself and didn’t waste another second before entering her.

They both let out twin groans. Aelin bucked her hips, trying to pull him in deeper, muttering something about needing more.

Rowan snarled and pulled out almost all the way before slamming into her. Aelin moaned loudly. “Oh. Oh, Rowan, harder.”

He didn’t hold back after that. Rowan pounded into her relentlessly, leaving Aelin unable to take a single breath.

Afterward, lying in a tangle of limbs, Aelin couldn’t help but think how lucky she was. For the earth-shattering sex, yes, but also for the love. The happiness. The days spent together filled with intimacy and romance, joy and laughter. Aelin was very lucky indeed.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #epilogue #my writing

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

Cry

Lorcan Salvaterre and Elide Lochan modern au

A/N: Alrighty alrighty I’M SORRY. I’m not posting anything lately cause I’ve been busy (very fucking much) and I just want to let you all know that I’ll write every single day of MOF even when October is finished (even if that’s not the point of those challenged but still)

I was on tiktok the other day and I saw this video of a couple in a long distance relationship where she surprised him and he CRIED. A LOT. It’s become one of my favourite things in the world to be honest. He really seemed exhausted coming in his room and he literally SNIFFED the air, cause he could SMELL her and I D I E D.

Anyway, this is basically the plot. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,948

Lorcan would rather shoot himself in the head than listen to Rowan talk about contemporary history for another hour.

He promised him that he would help him prepare one of the billions of exams he seemed to have every month because his girlfriend, Aelin, had abandoned him at the last minute, leaving him alone. Knowing the type, Lorcan would have bet the house that she had told him a lie not to have another long and boring talk about the Cold War.

As much as he loved his best friend, just the idea of what Rowan was studying made his eyelids close faster than any sleeping pill he had ever taken. And Lorcan had taken a lot of medication to help him sleep in his life.

Things had not gone very well lately. With Elide on the other side of the world and their schedules that fit perfectly so that they never got to see each other on skype, he hadn't seen his girlfriend for almost five days. Lorcan had never been an excessively soft guy, who felt the need to talk twenty-four hours a day just to tell others that his relationship was perfect, but the distance was playing tricks on him and the fact that he couldn't sleep well only added stress and nervousness.

There was also the small detail that his father - or rather, his sperm donor - had died a few weeks before and his mother, who had always been the only parental figure in his life, really wanted to give him the letter that the man had written to him only a few days before his death.

Lorcan had tried to read it, several times, even on a call with Elide, but every time he read the first lines, where the man expressed his sincerest apologies for never having been part of his life, attributing part of those faults to his mother too, he could never bring himself to finish it.

"...can you at least pretend to be listening?" Rowan asked exasperatedly, running his hand over his face.

Lorcan closed his eyes sighing, opening them a few moments later. Rowan was staring at him slightly pissed off. He could perfectly understand that talking to someone who didn't even seem to be in the same room as you could be irritating.

"Sorry Ro, I know I told you I'd stay until seven, but I can't do it." he got up, without looking Rowan in the face, but he saw him stiffening, "If I hear you say Gorbachev one more time, I might throw up."

"Are you okay?" he asked him in a lower tone of voice. Two girls sitting at the table next to them turned around, immediately bringing their attention back to their books when Lorcan gave them a hard look.

He tightened his jaw, putting his stuff in his backpack, "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"I wouldn't have started to worry if you'd just told me you were fine," Rowan pointed out, leaning against the table with his elbows and pushing towards him. Lorcan put on his jacket, puffing.

"Well, I'm actually fine," he said, finally looking him in the eye. He felt his breath hitch when he saw that Rowan seemed genuinely concerned about what was surely disturbing his friend and had to turn around so he wouldn't let him see how bad he really was.

"I know you don't do these..." he paused, frowning, "things. But if you need to talk to someone -"

Lorcan interrupted him by putting one hand forward, "Rowan, listen," he laughed dryly, "You're right, I don't do these things and you're starting to sound like Fenrys," his friend made a disgusted grimace, "Exactly, so cut the bullshit and don't ever try to be all mama hen on me again, okay?"

Rowan nodded bitterly, "It's just that Aelin told me that you and Elide," a hint of pain shot through his chest at the girl's name, "haven't talked for a few days and I just wanted to know if things were going well?" he asked hesitantly.

Lorcan pinched the bridge of his nose, "What exactly don't you understand about the sentence 'I'm fine'?"

"I'm just checking on a friend who won't stop bullshitting me," Rowan pointed out abruptly.

"I don't need you to check up on me."

Rowan's face softened so much that Lorcan knew that anything he would say in a few seconds would make him lose every ounce of patience.

"Is this about your father's letter?" he looked him in the face, reducing his lips to a thin line, then Lorcan turned around, without even saying goodbye, and walked out of the library.

It was not because of the letter.

It was the fact that his mother had felt the need to give it to him. It was the fact that the woman who knew him better than anyone else in the world, the woman who had seen him in the most vulnerable moments of his life and who had raised him alone, breaking her back day and night to make sure he had a future, had accepted the words written on that letter to be the truth.

Your mother prevented me from seeing you. Don't be angry at me, but at her. It wasn't me who decided to abandon you. Agnes told me that I could not see you until you were sixteen years old. It is not my fault that you did not have enough during your childhood.

A lot of bullshit if you asked Lorcan.

His father had left the second he found out that his mother had gotten pregnant and took every penny he could find in their house to buy another dose or bottle of alcohol.

Lorcan knew that his mother had read it because when she gave it to him, the envelope had been torn. And he knew that she hadn't done it with the intention of violating his privacy, but rather to protect him. He certainly wouldn't blame the mother if she still cared about her baby when it came to the man who got her pregnant and then ran away.

He did not realize that he had stopped in the middle of the university garden, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on the ground until a drop hit his forehead. He looked up and the sky split in two.

All the students who were lying on the lawn stood up screaming, putting away their notes and books as quickly as possible. Some laughed as they ran for shelter from that sudden thunderstorm, but Lorcan resumed walking normally, reaching his dorm canopy in a few minutes.

Walking up the stairs as slowly as he had never done before, he found himself thinking about his mother yet again.

Perhaps he should have called her.

They had spent hours on the phone after she had given him the letter. Lorcan yelling at her because the man's words had certainly struck Agnes in the heart - so much so that she handed the letter to her son, without warning him that it was all crap - and she apologized to him for something she had thought right almost twenty years earlier.

Lorcan had reassured her that he had never missed a father figure. He had never had the need to go fishing with his "old man" or "play catch".

He ran his hand over his face for the millionth time, sighing and trying to keep his emotions at bay until he reached his room where he would decide what to do. Whether to take a sleeping pill and try to rest or go to the gym and punch something. Or someone, if he found one of the guys willing to get it.

He arrived in front of the door and saw that it was slightly open, the corridor light on. He swelled his chest holding his breath and praying to every god on the face of the earth that Connal or Vaughan were not home, he pushed the door, entering the small apartment.

He heard no noises of any kind and frowned. If one of his roommates had been in the house there would have been at least the sound of pots being thrown into the kitchen or the springs of their beds moving under the weight of both.

Relieved that he had not entered the house in one of their usual hot moments, he made to move and then sensed it.

He smelled the air, stopping in his footsteps.

Lemon and cinnamon.

He would have recognized that scent everywhere.

He turned around, closing the door and expecting to see her hidden back there.

When he couldn't find her, he sprang towards his room, opening that door and throwing his head back laughing when he saw Elide sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Don' t believe it." Lorcan whispered without looking at her.

He turned back into the living room, taking two steps towards the couch before turning around again and putting his hands in his hair.

Elide was smiling at him with her hands clutched between her legs. She got up, going towards him, slowly, "Believe it.”

"You're here," Lorcan told her, with a shocked expression on his face. He couldn't move, the emotion too great to be contained and in a second everything he had taken so long to shove down and not to process reappeared on the surface, hitting him with such force as to take his breath away. Elide smiled at him more widely with bright eyes and threw herself at him.

Lorcan wrapped her in his arms and held her so tightly that she laughed and then stuck his head in the space between her shoulder and neck and breathed deeply.

Without his consent, a sob slipped from his lips.

He felt Elide stiffen, "Lor..."

He knew that if he spoke, he would not be able to recognize his voice as broken it would be.

"You're crying." Elide tried to tear herself away to look him in the face, but Lorcan prevented her, holding her tighter and letting go of more sobs. He was leaning completely against her and when she moved again, to get the backpack off his shoulders, he let her do it, taking her back in his arms immediately afterwards.

One of her hands rubbed his back, "It's alright." she whispered to him, kissing his cheek. "Everything is all right."

"Why are you crying?" her voice was so small, so weak compared to what she normally had. He let go of a trembling breath, taking a step back, and rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes to wipe away the tears.

Elide was holding her hands on his arms and stroking him to calm him down. He bent forward, extending one hand towards her neck and passed a thumb over her jaw. She half-closed her eyes, looking at his face. Lorcan looked back, with watery eyes.

He hugged her again with a surge, kissing her forehead and sighing with relief, "I missed you so fucking much."

Elide replied in a muffled voice, "So did I."

They lingered a few more minutes, Elide caressing every part of his body she could reach with her short arms, without worrying that he was completely soaked, and Lorcan relaxing under that familiar touch so strong that he could drive out every demon that had dug his way under his skin during those months without her. And even if things hadn't worked out just because Elide had come back for what would surely have been two days, at least he could talk to someone who knew would understand.

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#elorcan #elorcan fic #angst #fluff #lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #elide #elide lochan #college au #modern au #elorcan college au #fic #fan fic #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fan fic #julemmaes writing #my writing

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

"i'm gonna kiss you right now" for rowaelin

Ok so I used this prompt to make a part 2 for Drunk Mistakes (I really want to kiss you right now prompt)!! I hope you guys like this because I had fun writing it. It is heavily inspired on a conversation I’ve had with my best friends

Drunk Mistakes (part 1)

Tipsy kisses

Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read into her words.

Aelin’s heart was beating so fast that maybe Rowan was narrowing his eyes because even he could hear it. Underneath the covers, Aelin twisted her hands, both of them starting to sweat.

“Nothing at all?”

She shook her head, getting up from the bed. If he kept staring at her like that, she’d probably break and commit the same mistake from the night before. All Aelin wanted was for Rowan to drop the subject and believe that she was just a blabbering drunk. She just wanted him to forget last night.

“Did I do something? You know how I get when I get drunk like that.” She said, forcing worry and curiosity in her voice but not turning her face to him. She entered her bathroom and Rowan, thank the gods, didn’t follow.

She looked at herself in the mirror and almost gasped. A corpse looked better than her at that moment. Smeared makeup, the hair a mess and huge bags under her eyes, the pounding headache wasn’t the only thing a hungover brought to her. “Fuck, I look hideous.”

She was trying to change the subject, trying to make things seem natural again. Judging by Rowan’s silence, it wasn’t working.

“Ro.” She called again, finally looking back at him through her reflection in the mirror. “Did I do something?”

Rowan stared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

Aelin nodded back, a forced smile on her lips. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or disappointed with his answer.

—————

Six weeks. It had been six fucking weeks from her little drunken incident and Rowan was still acting strange around her.

Whenever she thought of it, Aelin wanted to cry. This is why she didn’t want to tell him about her feelings. This is why she didn’t want to make a move on him. If he was all tense and strange after hearing her say she wanted to kiss him while drunk, Aelin couldn’t phantom what he would do if she had said the words sober.

Maybe a restriction order. Or just finding excuses to not even look at her when they went out, even if he was already doing that.

“I hate this.” Aelin murmured, taking a deep chug of her beer. She was a little tipsy and the beer sent a rush to her head. “And I hate beer.”

“No, you don’t. You love beer, you’re just bitter lately.” Fenrys answered, putting an arm over her shoulders and pulling her close. Aelin laid her head on his chest, groaning quietly. “Just talk to him.”

“Last time I talked to him in a bar, I fucked it up and that’s why things are the way they are.” Aelin grumbled and Fenrys only chuckled, rubbing her arm with his hand. “Gosh, I’m an idiot. Four years. I managed to keep my mouth shut for four years and then I get drunk one night and fuck it up.”

Fenrys wasn’t surprised at the words. He had been her friend for much longer than she had known Rowan. Actually, both of them met four years ago because of Fenrys. Both he and Rowan were planning on going to pre-med, and were to be roommates during freshman year of college. Fenrys threw a party during the summer and that’s when Aelin met Rowan.

Since the beginning Fenrys had been the first person to know about Aelin’s feelings towards Rowan. The other four people were Manon, Lys, Elide and Dorian. Manon and Dorian were currently traveling the world in their gap year, only sometimes stopping by Orynth. Elide and Lysandra knew everything, but Fenrys had always understood better. She didn’t even had to tell him four years ago, the asshole just guessed.

After that Aelin was more careful in expressing herself with Rowan when there were other people around.

“Everyone makes drunk mistakes, baby.” He said, voice always carefree.

“You were supposed to stop me from making this certain mistake!” She smacked him across the chest. That had been their pact; Fenrys wouldn’t let Aelin confess her feelings when she was under distress, sad, overjoyed or, as he had failed, drunk.

“I tried! I fucking came by and swept you away, it’s not my fault you have this big ass mouth.” He hissed when she hit him again. “You were dancing with Vaughan and then I blink and, oh gods, where is Aelin?”

Aelin huffed a laugh at the sarcasm in his voice. “Three seconds earlier and I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

Fenrys laughed, ending his beer. He put the bottle on the table with a loud thud and everyone around them, including Rowan, turned to them. That was the first time during the night that he had looked at her and not averted his gaze quickly. His eyes narrowed a tiny bit while he watched Aelin and Fenrys. When Fenrys put his hands on her shoulders and drew her away from his chest, Rowan shook his head quickly and turned back to talk to Lyria.

“You want my advice?” Fenrys said, looking her dead in the eye. Aelin laughed at his sudden seriousness.

“Yes, give me all your extensive knowledge.”

“Smartass.” He replied, not letting go of her shoulders. “I fuck up a lot—”

“I have noticed, yes.” Aelin nodded solemnly.

“I will gag you if you don’t shut up.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “As I fuck up a lot, I know when a situation needs disfucking—“

“Did you just say disfucking?” She was either a little bit more than tipsy or Fenrys was just being his usual self.

“For the love of the gods, will you let me finish? Yes, disfucking. When you un-fuck what you fucked up.”

Yeah, just Fenrys being his usual self.

“Fuck down then?”

“Disfucking.”

Aelin was bitting her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. This was the stupidest conversation she had ever had and the alcohol made it ten times funnier.

“Proceed. How do I disfuck Rowan?”

“How do you what?” Vaughan who was passing nearby stopped, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Oh, gods.” Fenrys rubbed his temples, sighing and looking at Vaughan. “Disfuck. Now get out.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Vaughan said, turning to Aelin.

She shrugged. “Un-fuck what you fucked up.”

“Fuck down?”

“No!” Fenrys shouted and everyone looked at him again. “Disfuck and fuck down are different.”

“What the hell?” Lorcan sitting by Rowan’s side murmured.

“Mind your own business, M-rated Grinch.” Fenrys snapped at Lorcan and this time Aelin could help but laugh. She was almost doubling over when Fenrys turned to Vaughan. “You get the fuck out.” He turned to her. “And you, baby, shut the hell up and hear my teachings.”

She nodded, breathing hard. She looked at Rowan again to see him with furrowed brows. He turned away again. She sighed.

“You won’t disfuck this situation.” Fenrys explained. “It won’t help, it’s already too throughly fucked.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“What you will do, is kiss Rowan.” Fenrys finished, flashing her a smile.

“Someone needs to disfuck your brain. How is that supposed to help?”

“It won’t. He thinks you don’t remember but he does remember. He won’t forget. If the relationship is destroyed, at least get the kiss you’ve wanted for four years.”

“He’s right.” Vaughan added quietly.

“Bloody gods, you’re still here.” Fenrys turned to his brother-in-law. “Didn’t I tell you to piss off?”

“I was curious.” He shrugged, approaching Fenrys and Aelin. “But he’s right. Everything already went to shit, so why not?”

Aelin’s heart constricted at the words. “The two of you are so, so helpful. I feel much more comforted now that you guys said my relationship with my best friend is ruined.”

“They have no social skills, that’s why. It’s a wonder they can ever have a conversation with other people.” Lyria said, coming on their direction. “But they’re right, you should kiss Rowan.”

“You can’t have one private conversation these days.” Fenrys grumbled and Lyria hit him in the back of the head.

Aelin ignored him and turned to one of her closest friends. “You think?”

“I mean, yeah. I’ve known you for four years and Rowan for longer than that. I have been wondering why the two of you haven’t done it yet.” Lyria said, her voice calm and steady. She smiled knowingly at Aelin.

“Isn’t he your ex? You’re trying to pair up your best friend and your ex?” Fenrys butted in.

“You can’t have one private conversation these days.” Lyria mimicked Fenrys and the two immediately started bickering as usual.

Aelin stared at them for a few seconds before turning to Vaughan. “Can you take Lorcan away from Rowan?”

“Anything for you, princess.” Vaughan smiled at her, turning around and starting to walk to the bar. “Salvaterre, drinking competition. You say no, you’re a spineless coward and I’m showing Elide your baby pictures.”

Aelin watched as Lorcan immediately got up, following Vaughan as he threatened her friend.

Without giving herself time to consider what she was about to do, Aelin drowned the rest of her beer and got up. Her head was buzzing and she didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline. She dodged Lyria who was still standing near Fenrys, arguing with him. With a purposeful stride, Aelin walked up to where Rowan was sitting. He saw her seconds before she stopped in front of him, brows high.

“You ok?” He said when she stood before him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.” He answered, and Aelin could hear the confusion on his voice.

“Neither am I. A little tipsy, but that’s besides the point. And I lied six weeks ago.” She said, voice coming out rushed. Her heart was thundering and her mind was racing. She was feeling an adrenaline rush and would probably want to murder Fenrys, Vaughan and Lyria when it ended. “I was drunk, but I remembered the whole night.”

Rowan’s eyes widened at that, and some sadness took over his expression. “You lied?”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought that you were giving me an out the following morning. Because, you know… I said I wanted to kiss you and you didn’t want that.”

“I—“ Rowan started, dumbfounded.

“But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t disfuck it so I am going to kiss you.”

“You will?” Aelin sworn she could see Rowan fighting a smile.

“Yeah.” She nodded at herself. “I’m gonna kiss you right now.”

Aelin grabbed Rowan’s face in her hands, stepping in between his legs. The second before Aelin’s lips met his, she could see him finally smiling.

Rowan’s hands went immediately to her waist when her lips touched his. Rowan’s mouth was warm and soft against hers, and Aelin sighed contently. He drew her closer, and Aelin felt her body flushed against his. Aelin skimmed her hands from his face to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair. When Rowan’s tongue swept over her bottom lip, Aelin opened her mouth and would have probably moaned if they weren’t in public.

They kissed until Aelin lost track of time, mouths and tongues moving against each other, his fingers hugging her waist and hers playing with his hair.

When they finally drew apart, both were breathing hard, a small smile on Rowan’s lips and a very satisfied one on Aelin’s.

“So this is disfucking.” She said after breathing in, voice raspy.

“What the hell is disfucking?” Rowan’s brows furrowed, but he was still smiling.

Aelin merely stepped forward again, catching his lips with hers.

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

☽ ☼ ☾

six years ago.

“I so am not going,” Elide shouted, gripping the slats of her headboard as her roommate pulled on her ankles. “I was at the shop all day, I’m tired.”

“Elide Lochan, get your bodacious bod out of bed and into something spooky,” Aelin commanded, bracing a high-heeled foot against the sideboard. “Get. Up. Now.” Elide groaned and flipped onto her back, blowing her bangs up with a huffed breath. They glared at each other, neither backing down. Aelin clicked her tongue, “Come on, it’s Samhain!”

“All the more reason not to go,” the dark haired girl said, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s the sabbath - I will not go to your blasphemous boyfriend’s blasphemous party.”

“You know you love Ro-Ro. And c’mon,” Aelin whined, not above stomping her foot like a petulant child, “it’ll be fun!”

She sighed loudly and flicked her eyes upwards, “Fine. I’ll go.” Elide pushed herself to sitting and stood up. Aelin clapped her hands and collapsed onto the mattress as Elide slunk to her closet and flung the doors open. “I think… goth Barbie. Yes, no?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” her friend agreed, lounging about as Elide perused her wardrobe.

First, she pulled out her patch jeans. Not tonight. She looked at a corset dress and hummed, her head tilted to the side, “Maybe…” Elide unhooked a PVC pencil skirt and spun to Aelin, “Thoughts?”

Aelin propped herself up on her elbows, her brilliant eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “Ooh, with your new corset and the red top with the sleeves?” She made a vague gesture to represent the long sleeves. “Oh, wait, let me get you some shoes. I have the perfect boots.” Her long hair was a flash of gold as she launched herself up and out of Elide’s room.

Elide tossed her outfit onto her now vacated bed and sat at her vanity, fluffing her layered pixie-shag hair cut. She plugged in her hair straightener and as she waited for it to heat, she started on her make-up.

When the door was slammed open, Elide held her finger up. She filled in her wicked sharp eyeliner and used the tip of her ring finger to smudge some along her lower lash line. Then she stood up and turned, eyes landing on the red patent leather ankle boots. “Are those them?”

“Mm-hmm, how perfect are they,” Aelin asked, passing them to Elide. “I’ve been meaning to give these to you - they’re too small for me.”

“Ae, these are gorgeous,” Elide gushed, picking one up and running her fingers over it. “They’re beautiful, are you sure?” She hugged it to her chest, softly petting it.

Brilliant laughter spilled from Aelin’s glossy lips, “Yes, take them, please. I never wear them, I only bought them ‘cause they were, like, seventy-five percent off.”

“Oh, I love love love you,” Elide sang. She picked up her phone and opened her music, choosing a playlist at random. Her hips swayed to the bouncing beat of I’m Gonna Love You Too and Aelin laughed, singing along and dancing around.

Elide picked up her straightening iron and held it like a microphone, dramatically reaching towards her roommate, “You’re gonna say you’ve a-missed me, you’re gonna say you’ll a-kiss me…”

“Yes, you’re gonna say you’ll a-love me, ‘cause I’m a-gonna love you too,” Aelin sang, shimmying her shoulders.

Elide sat and hummed as she revamped her layers, curling them upwards into horn-like wisps. She clicked the straightener off and stood up, laughing and joking with Aelin as she got dressed. Once the underbust corset belt was snug and tied, Elide zipped her skirt up and smoothed any fussy wrinkles away. She twirled and popped her hand on her hip, “Well?”

Aelin studied her. Then she stood up and plucked the toy tiara Elide had once used in a costume and put it on her head. “There.”

Elide turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, fixing the tiara. “And now?”

“Be still, my foolish heart,” Aelin proclaimed, tapping her hand over her chest in an imitation of her beating heart. “You look absolutely ravishing, darling girl.”

Elide smiled and held her hand out, “Shall we? It’d be rude of the host’s girlfriend to be late.”

Aelin slung her arm around Elide’s waist and pulled her towards the door, “I thought I told you already, I’m never late. Everyone else is simply early.”

“Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Elide,” she sniffed, primly turning her nose up. “Everyone should listen to what I say all the time. How else will the world turn round right?”

“You are my favourite person in the world, golden girl,” Elide laughed.

“I better be, I put a roof over your head and booze in your stomach.”

Elide laughed again and unscrewed the lid off the vodka bottle, pouring them both generous shots in the bottom of two random glasses. She passed Aelin hers and lofted her own, “To…?”

“Being, young, wicked smart, fucking hot and having zero responsibilities!”

☽ ☼ ☾

As he walked up the pathway to the creaking, booming house, he could feel countless sets of eyes burning into him. He rolled his shoulders and resisted the urge to glare at those staring. Honestly, he should’ve been used to it by now. It was either his height, his hip-length hair in a loose braid, or his… aggressive wardrobe.

Fenrys, the little shit, told him it was because of the frown on his face, but Lorcan didn’t believe him. He never had a shortage of offers, from whomever he so wanted and so chose. He thought it was because people considered him to be a challenge, a lost and wandering soul to tether.

Lorcan was just genuinely disinterested. That twelfth grade pipsqueak didn’t know what he was talking about. Lorcan regretted the day he ever agreed to let the high schooler’s band play a show at the club. The boy fell in love every single day with a new person.

Almost as if he had summoned him, someone familiar crashed into his back, lanky legs wrapping around his torso and reedy arms locking around his neck. Lorcan groaned and shook the kid off, “Fen, fuck off. Go home, you have school tomorrow.”

The dark-skinned boy hopped around to face him, a maniacal grin splitting his face in two, “No, sir, I got a pro-D day tomorrow. I’m up all night, all night, boy!” Fenrys howled and Lorcan shook his head at him, muttering something rude. Fenrys slung his arm around Lorcan’s waist, “Say, what are you doing here, Lor? I didn’t think the law students let anarchists in their fêtes, as it were.”

“See, my plan is to stay until they toss me out on my ass. I think I’m pretty unnoticeable, yeah?”

Fenrys laughed and slapped Lorcan’s back, over his patch jacket, “Yeah, thank the gods that you don’t have a huge red ‘A’ on the back of your coat or whatever.” Lorcan snorted. “I mean, you’re not all master of disguise like me.”

Lorcan eyed the spikes Fenrys had styled his kinky, dense hair into and chose not to comment. “How was your show tonight?”

“Dude!” Fenrys shouted, “It was crazy. I thought my arms would fall off.”

The boy started imitating playing the drums, violently, and Lorcan shook his head, “Come on, kid, let’s go.” He slung his arm across Fenrys’ shoulders and steered the drummer into the kitchen. Under the lights, Lorcan saw a flash of silver-blond hair, “Look, there’s Rowan, go talk to him.”

“Yo, Whitethorn,” Fenrys yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. Lorcan rubbed his eyes, muttering something. Rowan turned around and smiled, lifting his hand to wave. He grabbed something and made his way over to them.

“Hey, man,” Lorcan said.

“Hey, guys, thanks for coming,” Rowan said, passing Lorcan a can of beer. “You just get here?”

“Yeah,” Lorcan said, “I had some stuff for class and Fen had a show.”

Rowan nodded, “Oh, you know what, you should tell me when your next show is so I can come.” He looked so eager, so earnest, Lorcan almost felt bad for him.

Fenrys roared with laughter and cuffed Rowan’s shoulder, “That’s fuckin’ funny, man, I’m going to go see if I can find Ashryver.” He departed, his head bopping to the beat of the music.

Rowan turned to Lorcan, his brows furrowed, “Funny? Why?”

Lorcan pressed his lips together to avoid smiling, “I think that Fenrys is saying that his music… it isn’t really your style, ya dig? It’s very nice of you to support him, but c’mon, Rowan. You went to one show last year and were scared to touch anything. Now we have to go find Fen ‘cause I’m not dropping him off at home wasted again. Emrys will beat me to death and cook me.”

His silver-haired friend laughed and they walked to where they could see Fenrys’ bleached-blond liberty spikes sticking above everyone else’s head. He was standing at one end of a ping-pong table, opposite two stunning women. The dark-haired one caught Lorcan’s eye and he stared for a moment, trying to figure out where he recognised her from.

“Salvaterre, do you want to keep drooling over my little sister or do you want to play?”

“I hope you choke to death on Rowan’s dick, Ash,” Lorcan replied evenly. He didn’t turn his gaze from the girl, who stared back at him, her eyes brazenly surveying him. Lorcan saw the challenge in her eye melt into heated appreciation. He ducked his head to hide his barely-there grin from Aelin’s hawkish glare and bounced a ping-pong ball off the table, “Are we playing or do you just want to keep guarding your sister’s virginity for eternity?”

The woman standing next to Aelin cackled with delight and leaned over the table, “It’s a little too late for that, but it gives her a sense of purpose now. I’m Elide, if you ever want to stop referring to me as ‘Aelin’s little sister’.”

He laughed quietly, “It’s nice to meet you, Elide. I’m Lorcan, this is Fenrys,” he gestured to the boy next to him. Fenrys gave her a toothy grin and a two-fingered salute. “So, are we playing or what?”

“That sounds like a challenge, Lorcan,” Elide mused. Lorcan arched a brow and slowly looked her up and down. The black skirt she wore clung to her sinful curves and the corset cinched her waist tightly. Against her pale complexion, the blood red, long sleeve top she wore made an alluring and tempting contrast, matching her crimson-painted lips.

“Maybe it is,” he countered, tilting his head to the side.

Her eyes sparkled with something and she kissed the ping-pong ball before tossing it. It soared in a perfect arch and landed directly in the cup nearest to him. Lorcan’s brows raised and Elide laughed a delicate, smokey and sultry sound, “I like a challenge.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“Come with me,” Elide said, holding her hand out expectantly.

Lorcan looked between her outstretched hand and her face warily, “Where to?”

“The kitchen,” she said, waving her fingers, “c’mon, my drink is empty.”

He stood and let her pull her behind him, laughing under his breath at her cockiness. Lorcan drained the last of his drink and tapped it against his bottom lip. “Where do I know you from? I feel like I’ve met you before.”

She turned and walked backwards, their joined hands hanging between them, “Hmmm… I don’t know. I go to the Vaults a lot, maybe I’ve seen you there?” she asked, referencing the local punk club near the university. Elide gave him a cheeky once-over, “You seem to be of that… persuasion.”

“As do you,” Lorcan replied, nodding his chin towards her layered, wisp-filled pixie cut. “Very Twilight of you, I must say, princess.” He reached out and flicked her tiara.

As they arrived at the kitchen, Elide dropped his hand and hopped up onto the counter beside the collection of various bottles of alcohol. His hand tingled at the loss of contact and he squeezed his fingers into a fist. “I love me some Alice Cullen. She was my queer awakening.”

“Ah, mine was Heath Ledger,” he replied back, smug. Lorcan grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured a long, long shot into his cup. Then he got a can of Coke from the ice filled cooler and poured that to the rim. Elide chuckled when he bent to sip in case of a spill.

Lorcan pushed his hair back as he stood back up and watched her pour a sickeningly green liquor into her cup. “Damn, that’s… green, shit, Lochan.”

“Yeah, I like my tongue spooky colours,” she said with a shrug, putting the green one down and drowning it in vodka and Sprite. “Don’t you?”

He laughed, “Maybe. What kind of spooky are you talking about?”

Elide hummed coyly, taking a sip of her, indeed, spooky drink, “All kinds of freaky shit.” She patted his arm, “So, if you live with Ro, why do I never see you?”

“Oh, I’m- I’m a photographer so I’m not home much,” he said, drinking from his cup. “I go to a lot of concerts and stuff.” Lorcan leaned against the counter opposite her and lifted his leg to kick her foot. “So what do you do, hmm? Are you in the art program?”

Elide tilted her head to the side, “Well, I was. I dropped out first year for a tattoo apprenticeship and I’ve been doing that for a few years,” she said, scrunching her nose up.

“Y’know what, I think we had a class together first year. I think I… spilt coffee on your drawing.”

Her eyes lit with recognition, “Oh my gods, yes! I so remember you, I was so mad about that.”

He ducked his head, “I’m real sorry about that.” A lopsided grin spread across his lips and he looked up, “So, where are you apprenticing?”

“The Omega on Main street, you know it? Run by Blackbeaks, exclusively?”

“Holy fuck, yes. I’m getting a tattoo there next week,” Lorcan said, his eyes wide. “Their tattoos are… amazing. It’s fucking art work.”

“I know! You know, if you know what you’re getting, I might’ve worked on it.”

“I’m getting an old school, traditional style raven on my chest,” Lorcan said, gesturing from shoulder to shoulder and down his sternum. “I got one of the freaky twins. Fallon, I think.”

Elide nodded, “Fallon is amazing. She’s actually hilarious when you’re with her one on one. She likes Enya and has her on her tattooing playlist, so prepare for that.” She hopped off the counter and hooked her finger in his belt loop. Elide pulled him, once again, and guided him towards a couch. They sat down, Elide’s legs haphazardly strewn across his lap. Lorcan’s hand splayed above her knee and he toyed with a rip in her tights.

Lorcan rested his chin on her shoulder and bumped his nose into her jaw, “So, what’s your Samhain declaration?”

She leaned backwards and regarded him seductively, “Hmm… to new things and new… people.”

Lorcan lifted his cup and said: “To new things and new… people.”

☽ ☼ ☾

Lorcan wrangled Fenrys, “Boyo, come on. I gotta get you home.” He sighed and tossed the bony boy over his shoulder.

Elide shrugged on her faux-fur coat - white with black hearts - and laughed at the sight as she fluffed her hair, “Aww, you take good care of your baby. Look at the little guy.”

He grinned and leaned against the porch column. “He sure is a champ in the morning. So perky,” Lorcan slapped Fenrys’ ass and chuckled when Fenrys whined, drowsily mumbling a protest.

She giggled tipsily and walked out, impressively straight given how much vodka she’d consumed. “I’m a Blackbeak, bitch. We bleed vodka,” Elide said, pronouncing the last word with the accent of her mother.

“Oh, shit,” Lorcan mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that outloud. Whoopsies.”

Elide laughed and patted his cheek before she leaned in and kissed his face, “Goodnight, my darling.”

He laughed, the sound slightly choked, “G’night, princess.”

She clicked her tongue and walked down the steps, going to the cab she’d called. “Give Fenny Poo some meds and water and don’t call me ‘princess’!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that either!”

“As you wish, princess.”

She scoffed and held her middle finger up high, “I loathe your existence, Salvaterre!”

“Oh, don’t be mean to me, please, gorgeous, I’ll fall in love with you,” he crooned, smiling wildly.

In retrospect, it hadn’t seemed so likely.

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them 🥺couple notes: - aelin & rowan r three years older than elide & lorcan, fenrys is in twelfth grade ! - lorcan is anarcho-punk and elide is riot grrrl !

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. I'm Gonna Love You Too - Blondie (cover of original by buddy holly)

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr

#star-crossed & moon drunk #sc&md chapter two #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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charincharge · 4 years

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 17

cruel summer masterlist

AN: 17 is my lucky number, but it is not Rowan’s. Sorry this thing is still hurting some of you. I think it’s still going to end up about 25 chapters, so... we’re moving forward. I swear! Okay, byeee.

Thump.

Rowan wakes up, unsettled by a loud noise coming from the living room.

“Shhh…” A loud whisper hushes. “My roommate is sleeping,” Manon slurs, followed by excessive giggling.

He looks at the clock. Just past 3AM. Rowan frowns. This is not what the needs right now.

Another thump followed by an “Ow!” and more giggles wakes him up entirely.

Another too loud shush as he hears two bodies stumble towards Manon’s bedroom, laughter trailing after them the whole way.

Manon’s door slams shut, and Rowan tries to close his eyes and fall back asleep. But soon soft moaning begins. Rowan rubs his hand over his face and cringes. He is so not in the mood for this. He just wants to sleep and temporarily forget about all his troubles. Is that too much to ask for?

He usually sleeps through Manon’s exploits. But not tonight. The moans are interlaced with profanities and the sound of thumping against the wall. The moans reach a crescendo, and Rowan has never been so insanely grateful for people to orgasm and go to sleep. But, minutes later, the moaning starts again.

Rowan puts his pillow over his head, trying to block out the noise, but he’s too attuned to it. He hears every sigh and whisper and expletive, and his entire body is on alert, far too anxious to fall asleep. He stays awake until the wee hours of the morning when Manon and her paramour finally settle down.

Rowan’s alarm goes off far too soon, much to his dismay. His head throbs with the lack of sleep, and his hand itches beneath his bandage. He knows he’s in for a rough day – and not just because of the event that’s going to happen tonight that he definitely doesn’t want to think about yet.

As he gets ready, he’s shocked to hear movement out in the kitchen. He’s so tired, he can’t imagine anyone else being voluntarily awake right now. He peeks out of his bedroom to see Manon, in her robe, making coffee. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s humming lightly. She smiles like the cat who ate the canary, and Rowan shudders. Smiles look terrifying on her.

“You look like crap again,” Manon says, sipping from her large red mug, eyebrows raised. “Want to tell me what happened last night?” She points to his injured hand.

“Not really,” Rowan says, reaching for the coffee pot himself, but Manon slaps his hand away.

“I’m making that for my guest,” she hisses, narrowing her golden eyes at him.

Rowan ignores her and pours himself a mug. “You and your guest kept me up all night, so I’m going to need some caffeine to make it through today.”

Rowan is dreading today. He really wishes he’d at least been able to sleep.

“Sorry,” Manon apologizes, though she sounds anything but.

“Hey, babe,” a warm voice calls sleepily. “I thought I heard noise out here.”

The woman who exits Manon’s room is absolutely stunning – she wears one of Manon’s tank tops and a pair of underwear, showing off the expanse of her dark skin, swirling with intricate art. Long dark braids fade to pink and fall down her back, making her look just as effortlessly cool as Manon. Her rich brown eyes flick to Rowan in surprise and she waves timidly.

Manon simply pulls the woman into her side and kisses her cheek. “Nimi, this is Rowan, my roommate. Rowan, this is Nehemia. We met on the yacht last night. You know, after you weirdly bailed.”

Manon is clearly asking Rowan to explain himself, but he’s in far too grumpy to attempt that.

Nehemia holds out her hand, and Rowan shakes it. “You can call me Nimi,” she clarifies, her accent rounding out the sharp vowels of her name. “Like Mimi, but with an N.” She smiles at Rowan, and he’s again awestruck by how beautiful she is. He’s constantly impressed by the caliber of girls Manon brings home, but Nehemia is a step above and beyond. Despite being exhausted, Rowan returns her smile in earnest. He guesses Manon deserves a night of fun, too, despite his own drama.

“I’m going to be late for work,” Rowan grumbles, looking at the time.

“This is my surprised face,” Manon deadpans, making Nehemia giggle that same giggle that Rowan heard over and over last night.

Rowan wishes them goodbye, and as he closes the door he hears Manon laugh. “Thank gods. I want to hear you scream for me.”

Rowan flees the premises faster, not wanting to even imagine the volume they’re about to reach. Also, he has to desire to be around happily coupled people right now.

He’s never been so glad to go to work. At least at the park, he’ll be distracted all day and around other miserable people.

Except for some reason, everyone at the park is having their best day ever. Even Lorcan, who usually skulks around the ground with a permanent scowl is buoyant and grinning as he hands out tickets with Rowan at the front booth.

He finds out why during his lunch break when Lorcan tentatively approaches Elide and asks if the steak house is okay for dinner tonight, to which Elide readily nods, leaving the pair nervously smiling and blushing at each other.

Gods, does everyone have a date tonight, Rowan wonders to himself. What was in those cocktails last night? Some sort of aphrodisiac?

Rowan pulls out his phone, notably devoid of text notifications, and wonders if he should reach out to Aelin. He wants her to be thinking about him during her date. He knows that’s selfish and stupid and totally the opposite of what he asked for, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t trust Sam at all, and something plagues Rowan’s stomach; that Sam will be in Aelin’s life long after he leaves it. The thought makes him nauseous.

He sits, picking at his lunch, but unable to really eat. Elide takes the seat next to him and gives him a small smile.

“How’s the hand doing?” she asks, pointing to the bandage still wrapped around Rowan’s palm. He shrugs. “You were missed last night,” Elide says, her tone insinuating much more than her plain words.

Rowan chuckles softly and looks at Lorcan, who is staring at the back of Elide’s head. “Yeah, what the hell happened after I left? I got woken up by…uh…company.”

Elide laughs back. “Oh man, isn’t Nimi so cool? She’s a friend of Dorian’s.” Her eyes glaze over, as if she’s playing the night back across her memory. “Basically, we decided to get sloshed and be each other’s wingmen.”

“It seems like you were all successful,” Rowan says, stabbing a piece of his cold chicken. Elide smiles and looks over her shoulder at Lorcan, who immediately looks down at being caught staring. “So, how’d that happen?” Rowan asks, curious about his two managers. “When I left Lorcan was not at the party…”

“Manon told me to stop being a coward – except, she used a much crasser word that I don’t like saying out loud.” Elide scrunches her nose. “So, I showed up drunk on Lorcan’s doorstep.”

Rowan’s jaw drops. “You did what?”

“Shut up. I know.” Elide covers her face. “I’ve never done anything like that in my entire life.”

“So, what happened?” Rowan asks, leaning forward. This gossip is the best kind of distraction for his aching heart.

Elide looks through her fingers, embarrassed. “He put me to bed in his bed and slept on the couch.” She snorts. “And then this morning I got really mad at him for not making a move, and he said that he would never take advantage of a drunk woman.” She smiles softly. “And that he insisted on taking me out first.” Elide takes a large sip of her drink and frowns. “Gods, I’m sorry. You didn’t need all those details. I haven’t even told Aelin yet.”

Rowan clears his throat, unsure if he should ask what he’s going to, but he can’t stop himself. “And did Aelin meet anyone new?”

Elide furrows her brows and frowns. “No. I assumed she went to go meet you?” Elide says. “She left the party with her parents shortly after you did.”

“Oh.” Rowan isn’t sure what to make of that detail. He stabs another bite of chicken.

Elide starts to say something and then pauses, and then starts again. And then pauses. Rowan rolls his eyes in frustration. “Just spit it out.”

“You should just tell her,” Elide says. Rowan raises an eyebrow at the petite brunette. “That it’s not casual for you.” Rowan swallows thickly but shakes his head and scoffs. Elide continues. “I’m just saying it as a person who wishes someone had told me to stop being a…” she lowers her voice to the softest whisper, “pussy.” Rowan cracks a small smile. “…sooner.

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

Rowan nods as Elide heads off, left with his head spinning around.

He takes his phone back out and stares at it. He hates the way he left things with Aelin last night. But what is he supposed to text her? Best wishes on your date tonight? No. He can’t say anything. He has to just suffer through this hellish day and hope she wants to talk to him after. The longer he goes without hearing from her, the more he realizes that he doesn’t think he’ll recover if she doesn’t want to see him again. He’s an addict, in dire need of his next hit. He only hopes he didn’t fuck everything up. He’ll keep all his thoughts to himself for the rest of the summer, as long as it means he gets to continue seeing her.

Rowan’s mood worsens in the afternoon. With every minute it gets closer to 8pm, he pictures Aelin getting ready in a fancy dress and doing her hair and applying makeup. For someone else. He thinks of Sam’s disgusting comments from the boat and aggressively rips a ticket in two. His frown scares a little boy making his way onto the carousel, as he skitters quickly past an incredibly grumpy Rowan.

He wonders where Sam is taking her. Probably another fancy restaurant. Dimly lit and romantic. He can’t stand the thought.

By the time the day ends, everyone has learned to avoid Rowan. Even Fenrys, whose smile can always cheer him up, gives Rowan a wide berth in the employee breakroom after he practically growls at him. Fenrys had no idea what he was asking when he asked what Rowan was up to tonight, but he knows he’ll never unleash that beast again. Rowan has no idea how he’s going to distract himself tonight. He’s all out of whiskey.

On his way home, Rowan calls his mom. It’s been a while since he’s done more than text her, and he’s relieved when she answers the phone, despite the late hour.

She can tell Rowan is in a foul mood nearly immediately.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, and Rowan groans.

“I just got no sleep last night. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, wishing he could be more cheerful for his mom, who he loves so much. She seems unfazed by his crabbiness, though.

“I was going to keep it a surprise, but there’s a present in the mail for you,” Dora says.

“What?” Why?” he asks, shocked.

“Because I saw it, and I knew you needed it. Don’t argue with me.” Her tone is resolute. “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you, ma,” he says, his mood lifting slightly.

“You’re welcome, Ro,” she says with a yawn. “Get some sleep tonight.”

She kisses loudly into the receiver, and Rowan can’t help but smile. Maybe he can get through tonight after all.

When Rowan arrives home, he cracks opens his front door, unsure if Manon and Nimi are still going to be at it, but luckily Manon is alone, lounging on the couch, watching TV. He nods hello.

Manon gestures to his room. “Something came for you while you were at work. I put it in your room.”

Rowan finally smiles, excited to see what his mom sent him. But when he opens his bedroom door, he’s shocked to see not a package on his bed, but Aelin, curled up with her arms wrapped around herself, cheeks stained black with remnants of watery mascara, and turquoise eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

“Aelin?” Rowan rushes to her side, perching himself on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing here?” He pauses, but she still doesn’t answer. “Are you okay?” he asks, though the answer is incredibly obvious.

Tears spill from her eyes onto his pillow as she shakes her head and sniffles loudly. Rowan looks her over. She looks so small, knees tucked into her chest. He takes in her dress, now wrinkled and crumpled from laying on her side. He tentatively touches her bare shoulder, and she startles beneath his touch, jolting slightly, and Rowan narrows his eyes.

“Did…” He swallows nervously. “Did he… hurt you?”

Aelin shakes her head again, and Rowan releases a shaky breath. Thank gods for small favors.

“Aelin,” he pleads as he watches her helpelessly. “You have to tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.”

“I d-didn’t g-go,” she mumbles, so quietly that Rowan isn’t quite sure he heard her right.

She pushes herself upright, tears still dripping down her cheeks. “I g-got in-to a hug-ge f-fight with m-my mom,” she stutters between ragged breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

Rowan wipes his thumb across her wet cheek, pushing the tears away, but they come in steady streams.

“Y-you were r-right,” she whispers through sniffs. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, centering breath. When she opens them again, blue gold eyes stare into his, and he’s nearly knocked out by the emotion he sees swirling in them. “No one can make me do anything I don’t want to. I’m done pretending.” She breathes heavily. “Sam s-sucks,” she says, her voice cracking slightly.

Rowan smiles softly at her. “I could have told you that,” he says, and she chuckles humorlessly.

“My mom did not feel the same way…” she trails off, and the flash of hurt in her eyes tells Rowan that there’s a lot more to her fight than she’s willing to admit to him. “It was the worst fight we’ve ever had.” She breathes deeply. “I can’t go back there tonight.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Rowan says, and he means it. It’s not entirely a selfless offer.

Rowan leans forward tentatively and kisses Aelin’s forehead. She exhales a shaky breath beneath his touch, and he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her onto his lap. Her tears return in full force as she cradles herself against him. Dark splotches mar his shirt with her running makeup. She leans back and swipes at her cheeks.

“Oh g-god, I’m getting your sh-shirt all d-dirty,” she cries, the small detail making her even more upset. “I’m s-sorry. A crying g-girl s-so isn’t wh-what you s-signed up-p for.”

“I don’t care,” Rowan says emphatically, drawing her closer, and Aelin settles against his chest again. He runs his fingers through her golden hair, starting at her scalp and running all the way down the middle of her back, repeating the movement over and over until it becomes meditative. She sniffles quietly against him, her tears running dry as she calms down.

When her breaths finally even out, Rowan kisses the top of her head and tries to lift her off his lap, but she clings to him harder.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, and she nods, unclasping her fingers and letting him go. He goes to his dresser and grabs a worn in band tee and some boxers and tosses them onto the bed. He tugs his work clothes off and grabs some sweatpants from his bottom drawer. As he stands, two delicate hands wrap around his bare torso and soft lips press between his shoulder blades.

Rowan twines his fingers with hers as he turns around to look at her. She looks exhausted. The hours of crying have taken their toll on her. Her shoulders slump forward, and her sparkling eyes lack their usual luster. But Rowan thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

She turns around in his arms and lifts her hair. He takes the hint and unzips her dress. She steps out of it and he holds up the band tee for her. She snakes her head through, and Rowan can’t help the surge of delight he feels at seeing her in his clothes. Aelin steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck, holding him close. He returns the hug so tightly he can feel their hearts beating together.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Rowan hugs her tighter in response. He’d hold her forever if she let him. “Can I wash my face?” she asks, and Rowan nods and points her in the direction of the bathroom. Rowan finishes dressing as she cleans her face, and gets comfortable on his bed. When Aelin comes back out, she frowns at him unhappily.

“What?” he asks, nervous that he’s done something to upset her.

“You put a shirt on,” she complains, and Rowan can’t help but smile widely at that.

“So thirsty,” he says with a laugh, and Aelin finally smiles for the first time all evening.

“I’m actually hungry,” she says, crawling onto the bed next to him. He’s about to call her out for her blatant innuendo when she continues. “With tonight’s upset… I didn’t get to eat dinner.”

Rowan lifts his arm, and Aelin snuggles underneath it. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks. He holds out his phone for her to scroll through the limited delivery options, and Rowan smiles again at the domestic scene.

Aelin decides on Chinese food, and as they wait for it to arrive, they turn on the TV to one of Rowan’s favorite cooking competition shows.

Cuddled together on his bed, Rowan’s heart feels full. He resumes running his fingers through her hair, and Aelin sighs happily. He thinks about Elide’s advice, wondering if he should just tell Aelin what he’s feeling when she breaks the silence herself.

“You’re a really great friend, Rowan,” she says, and Rowan nods, squashing his feelings down again. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he croaks out, continuing his movements through her hair. She kisses his bandaged hand and holds it in hers. As they sit together, Rowan can’t help but think this doesn’t feel like friendship. In fact, he thinks it feels a lot like love.

~*~*~*~*~

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@mymultiversee

@superspiritfestival

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#aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #elorcan #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass

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