#rowaelin and kiddos

[leiawritesstories]

I Won't Call It Love, Part 1

hi @shyvioletcat!!! happy rowaelin yulemas!!! you love baby fics and idiots to lovers so...here's both of those tropes! This is part 1 of probably 2 parts :))

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, reference to infertility, pregnancy

Enjoy!!!

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

“Hey.” Tucked into Rowan’s side, snug under the blankets that spilled out of the hammock, Aelin tipped her face up, catching her boyfriend’s eyes. Boyfriend. Gods, it still made her giddy to call him that, the title they’d settled on so recently. 

“Hey.” Beneath the blankets, his hand slid lazily from her waist down to her hip, fingertips just barely grazing the dip of her spine. “What's up?” 

She let out a soft sigh and curled closer into his warmth, watching the embers of the campfire flicker out. “I like this.” 

“Me too.” He grinned at her, a flash of wickedness edging his expression, and tugged her more solidly onto his lap. “I like it a whole lot.” 

“You’re a bad, bad boy, Rowan Whitethorn,” she teased, arching her hips ever so slightly into the thickness she felt pressing up into her from below. “I thought we agreed to keep this casual.” 

His hand on her back grew heavy, and he pressed her hips into his in a slow, languid roll. “Does keeping it casual mean I can’t touch you like this, Ae?” He dipped his head, breathed a feather-soft kiss behind her ear. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I…no,” she managed to gasp, lost already in the feel of his hands on her skin. She’d had dreams like this for years. “We talked about that, Ro.” The teasing lilt returned to her tone, and she sat up enough to playfully flick his nose. “We’re casual, but we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and as long as we’re together, we’re only with each other.” A brief, haunted spark danced through her eyes, gone as soon as it appeared. “And if we decide this doesn’t work, then we go back to being friends. Right?” 

“Right.” He tugged her slowly back down against him. “But you didn’t answer my question, Ae. Do you want me to stop?” Her hips nestled into his once again, and she barely suppressed the moan that sprang up her throat at the feel of his cock pressing into her. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I—mmh, Rowan.” Her thoughts garbled into nonsense. She’d buried her feelings long enough. 

He smirked into her neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “Whatever you say, princess.” 

A moment of clarity broke through her lust-clouded thoughts. “Ro, I—mmh—we’re in a hammock, buzzard. This definitely isn’t stable enough.” She sucked in a jagged breath, let one hand drag down his side and dip into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Not for the things I want you to do to me.” 

“Fuck, Aelin,” he groaned, catching her wrist before she could warp her fingers around his dick. In one smooth roll, he was out of the hammock, and he hoisted her into his arms without effort. “And what kind of things…are those, hmm?” 

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips up against his ear as he kicked open the door to the cabin. “Filthy things.” 

“Good girl,” he rasped out, lengthening his strides and crossing the small, open-concept cabin in barely three steps and splaying her out on the bed. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Ro,” she teased, sitting up so she could kick off her shoes and pants. Before she could roll her sweats off her legs, he stopped her, heat burning in his eyes. “Having second thoughts?” 

“Hardly.” He threw his sweatshirt across the cabin floor, his shoes following. “I want to do it.” 

She raised a brow. “That’s the whole point, buzzard.” 

“Not like that,” he huffed, catching the mirth in her eyes. “Like this.” He skated his warm hands up her sides, tugging her sweatshirt up as he went. And he stopped short, sucking in a gasp and staring at her breasts. 

Her bare breasts. 

“What?” She shrugged irreverently. “I don’t like wearing a bra when I’m in my comfy clothes.” With a wink, she added, “And I might have had a plan for this little trip.” 

“Did you, now?” His eyes dilated into darkness as he tugged her sweatshirt off and threw it across the floor, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants. “What kind of plan, love?” 

“This kind.” She smirked, then gasped as he dipped his hand between her thighs, his thumb finding her clit with remarkable speed even through her little scrap of lacy panties. “Yes, Rowan. Yes.” 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and tugged her sweats off with one hand while the other continued to draw lazy circles over her clit. 

She groaned his name and wrapped one hand around his wrist, leading his fingertips inside her panties. He caught her gaze, a question written in his look, and she nodded her confirmation as she reached up to kiss him. Rowan braced himself on his free arm and kissed her slowly, his tongue tangling lazily with hers, and she sighed into the kiss as her body melted into the mattress beneath the hard press of his. Unbidden, his fingers curled against her pussy, and she nodded breathlessly, her hips shifting against him. 

“Show me what you like, Ae,” he breathed, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and sliding them off of her. 

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she chuckled. Her humor rapidly gave way to a moan as she trailed her fingers down her body, curling around her sensitive nipples and drifting to her wet pussy. She traced patterns on her clit with one hand and let the other slip down, dipping two fingers into herself and watching Rowan’s cock strain through his boxers as he watched her fingers sink effortlessly into her cunt. “Like this,” she managed to say, moving her fingers at an increasing pace, twisting and curling them inside herself. 

“Fuck me,” he groaned, and he pulled her fingers out of her pussy and replaced them with his thicker ones. He licked her wet fingers, his eyes rolling at her taste, and curled his fingers upward, matching the rhythm of her fingers on her clit. 

“Fuck me,” she moaned, rocking her hips into his touch. “Can I?” Her free hand reached towards his cock, and he nodded as he slipped a third finger into her cunt. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh…fuck,” she gasped, going speechless at the sight of his dick. She pushed his boxers off completely and traced a soft touch up the underside of his thick, hard cock, making him grunt and jerk towards her touch. “Are we…?” 

“Don’t worry.” His fingers hit a spot that had her seeing stars, and she gasped his name. “That’s right, love, tell me who’s making you feel like this.” She wrapped her fist around his dick and stroked, and he tipped his head back and groaned. “So good, love. Yes. It’s gonna fit.” 

She looked like she was about to protest, so he swallowed her next words with his tongue in her mouth and curled his fingers, and a tremor rocked her body. “I…Rowan, I’m…” 

“Come for me, love,” he whispered into her neck, and she clenched around his fingers and did just that. He worked her through it, stopping to catch her hand and lift it from his cock. “Fuck, Ae, if you keep that up I won’t last thirty seconds.” 

She laughed quietly, still catching her breath from the orgasm. “Ah, Ro, I think you have better stamina than that.” 

“Damn right I do, Ae.” He kissed her softly and cupped her tits in his hands, the calluses on his fingers scraping gently against the delicate skin. She moaned, her body writhing against his, and he smirked. “Ready?” 

“For you?” Her smile went soft. “Yeah. I’ve been ready for a long time.” 

“Fuck, Fireheart.” His thumb skated up the curve of her cheek. “I think I’ve had dreams where you said that to me.” He notched his hips into hers, his dick nestling against her slick pussy. “I—wait! Fuck. Condom?” 

A shade of sorrow passed through her eyes. “It’s fine, Ro. I’ve pretty much been told that I can’t get pregnant.” 

“Aelin,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, love.” 

She shook her head. “It’s alright, Rowan. There’s lots of ways to have a family.” As she said that, his dick nudged her cunt, and she chuckled. “Someone’s eager.” 

“Fucking right, someone’s eager,” he returned. She guided his dick to her entrance, and he rolled his hips, slowly fitting himself inside her. “Gods.” 

“Fuck,” she gasped, breathless at the sensation. “So full.” 

He groaned, a garbled rendition of her name, and at her nod, started to move. He drove his hips into hers, once, twice, and…well. “Fucking gods, Ae!” He cried out her name and came inside of her after less than a minute. 

Silence stretched between them. 

Then Aelin turned her head sideways on the pillows and burst out laughing, Rowan’s dick still inside of her. “Oh gods,” she gasped through her laughter. “When I said I wanted you to do filthy things with me, love, I didn’t mean for you to two-pump chump it.” 

Rowan blushed scarlet, but a chuckle escaped him despite his efforts. “I’m never like this,” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fuck me.” 

Aelin chuckled and pushed herself up to kiss him. “There’s more than one way to make a woman orgasm, as you know.” She winked wickedly at him. “Lucky for you, I brought a battery-powered boyfriend.” 

“You really did have plans, didn’t you?” He finally pulled out, and he reached over and picked up her toy from the nightstand. 

“I did indeed.” She let her legs splay apart. “You gonna just make me lay here?” 

“I could.” He smirked. “But I won’t. C’mere, gorgeous.” 

~

The late-September breeze raised a soft pink on Aelin’s cheeks, but it wasn’t cold enough for her to start wearing a jacket yet. The bells on the coffee shop’s door tinkled as she swept in, waved at Elide behind the bar, and headed towards her and Lysandra’s usual table. 

“You’re late, babe,” Lys said, raising a perfectly threaded brow. “Did that man of yours keep you up late?” 

“You’re the worst,” Aelin grumbled, gratefully taking a sip of the latte in front of her. “I walked here from the office, you know.” 

Lys snickered. “I’m just giving you shit, Ae. But I do want to know.” She widened her green eyes and propped her chin on her hands. “Because if he hurts you, I’ll rip his dick off.” 

“That’s graphic,” Aelin drawled. “And we’re…” She trailed off, a glow that had nothing to do with the fall air brightening her face. “We’re great. I won't say it yet, but I think I’m in love.” 

Lysandra cheered. “Atta girl! Give me all the dirty details.” 

“Freak,” Aelin laughed. “I can’t stay, Lys. I have my appointment in half an hour.” 

“Damn,” her best friend sighed. “Fine. We’ll go for drinks later, then?” 

“Absolutely.” Aelin picked up her coffee and waved. “I wouldn’t miss Tuesday girls’ night for the world.” 

“See you then!” Lys waved as Aelin left the coffee shop. 

Aelin went back out to her car, parked a few blocks away. She had yearly appointments with her gynecologist, and she was used to them by now. She’d been seeing Dr. Towers for a good five years, since she was diagnosed with adenomyosis at twenty, and she was glad to have the reassurance of her doctor, even if her condition was a heavy one. 

She arrived at the clinic fifteen minutes later, checked in, and waited for a while before the nurse came out and called her name. Aelin followed her back into the exam room, and she set down her bag and went to the restroom. The nurse handed her a small sample cup. 

“You know the drill,” she said with a little smile. 

Aelin smiled back. “Yep, I’ve been here enough times.” Pregnancy screening was a normal part of every appointment. It had never meant much to her—it still didn’t, not when she and Rowan were only a few months into an official relationship. She took care of things quickly and went back into the exam room, where the nurse took her vitals and went over a few things with her before Dr. Towers came in. 

“Hi, Aelin.” The doctor’s usual gentle smile was absent. 

Aelin’s brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?” 

At that, Dr. Towers broke into a beam. “Not at all.” She set down her laptop and took a pregnancy test out of her pocket. 

A very positive pregnancy test. 

“You’re pregnant, Aelin.” 

The world went silent. 

“Th—that’s not possible,” Aelin whispered. She tucked her shaking hands under her legs to hide them from view. “I…are you sure?” 

Dr. Towers nodded, holding out the test. “I’m very sure, Aelin.” Sympathy warmed her expression. “Would you like to discuss your options, or do you want to have some time to process? We can schedule another appointment in a week or so if you need some time.” “I think I want some time.” Aelin’s mind began to settle, the one thing that she could fully grasp being Rowan. I need to tell Rowan.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[mariaofdoranelle]

*squeals* eeeeeeeeeeIloveMaisie. This was everything I could have ever wanted when I requested a Maisie pov 💞 

Thinking her parents were fighting about her…. My heart broke remembering that feeling all too well as a child. 🥺

Trying to trick Aedion into feeding her candy and “No, thank you” to salad… she is 100% Aelin’s. 

Maisie giving Aedion sleeping advice is both so insightful for such a little kiddo and hilarious because she’s oblivious to Lys being his two. 

Her judginess of Aelin and Dorian’s past relationship is too good. I’m sure she’ll have situationships when she’s older. 

 I need more Maisie. I’m sorry if that sounds demanding. But also I’m not. You’re just so talented and I want to know everything about these characters in your brain. I want more of Maisie and Aelin challenging Rowan, I want Maisie plotting to get rid of Rowaelin baby #2, I want her also defending baby #2 because she seems like a protector but she’s still got strong opinions, I want Maisie driving Lorcan insane, I’ll even take Maisie as a hellion teen. …I can keep going…

Or if you’re done with the Maisie pov, just tell me to bug off and I’ll cherish this precious glimpse into maisy daisy’s brain. 

Thank you for writing this request!

Thank you!! I’m so happy you liked it 🩷❤️💛💞💗🧡💖💕

I don’t have anything planned for another Maisie’s POV (which doesn’t mean I won’t do it heheheh), but I do have lots of outtake ideas with her and her [redacted]

Prompts are always open, but in the meantime here’s a little ✨snippet✨

“I wish I was a dog.” A sigh too deep for a five-year-old. “All I do in my people school is learn letters and numbers. I already know all of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rowan challenged, his eyes were full of amusement when he met Aelin’s own, smirking. “What comes after eleven?”

“Not important!”

[highqueenofelfhame]

i don't know who i think i am updating so many times this week, but here we are. enjoy it while it lasts, kiddos. and happiest of birthdays to @shyvioletcat who is the reason i even wrote this fic in the first place. love u bb 💚

rowaelin // 7k words // masterlist

The pillow beside him still smelled faintly of her perfume, yet when he reached for the warm body that should have been next to him, he found nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Rowan let out a low groan of disappointment and rolled halfway off the bed to feel for his jeans. When he finally found his phone in the back pocket and checked the time he knew she hadn’t been gone for too long. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and he was almost positive she had been pressed against him the majority of the night. 

Gods, last night. Rowan hadn’t had sex in months, and the woman Connall had pushed toward him like an offering had been his perfect match. Everything he gave her, she had given back. She took as much as he did, and he couldn’t help himself when he sent her tumbling over the edge until she was a shaking, sweaty mess. It was, by far, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The sounds of her breathy moans, the feeling of her cherry red nails dragging sharply up his back and over his shoulder blades, or of the way she’d pressed her fingertips into his lower back to urge him closer… Those were things he would not soon forget. He was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have the reminder of her hands etched on his skin until at least tomorrow. 

He was desperate to do it all over again with her.

It took him a moment, but he managed to find another pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt in the back of the closet. As the door leading to the apartment closed behind him, a heavy sigh sank from his chest. Connall had a smirk that said he knew way more than he should. The bastard. He spent so many late nights at the bar, it wouldn’t surprise Rowan if he had been there all night and heard every sound he pulled from Aelin’s soft, perfect lips. 

“Terrasen won last night.” Connall was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, drying a clean glass as he took in his friend. 

“I know,” Rowan grumbled, adjusting his clothes from the night before in his hands. Several of his missed text-messages had been about their victory. Apparently, it had been a close game that went into overtime. But it seemed that Orynth grew football players in the mountains, fertilizing them with the gods only knew what. 

Through the window the sky was already full of fluffy white clouds. It made it hard to be too glum. Soon the sun would be shining brightly over Varese. It was a new day, Monday was a new week, and there was still time for someone to knock Terrasen out of the winning streak that had been going on for the last two years before Rowan had to face them in a few months.

“Your girl left about an hour ago, if you were wondering.” He was, but instead of saying so he just grunted a response and headed out the door. 

The following week was his normal routine. Rowan returned to Doranelle after spending the rare off-weekend down in Varese. More than once he had tried to pry details from Connall about if Aelin had been back to the bar or not. Apparently she hadn’t, but his friend swore to let him know if she did. It had been five days and she hadn’t been seen. Was it pathetic the way he wished he had a way to contact her? Definitely. But there was something about her that he couldn’t shake, that he refused to let fade into the recesses of his mind. 

On the sixth day since meeting her, not that he was counting, he’d carried his laundry hamper downstairs to throw in the wash. Out of habit, he patted down the pockets of all his pants. Rowan had learned the hard way a few years ago that not doing so resulted in very expensive headphones being ruined in the wash. Could he afford another pair? Of course he could, but it was a waste of money when he could simply not wash them and not have to spend two hundred dollars for no reason.

There was a soft crinkling in the pocket of his jeans, one that he barely noticed. They were already halfway into the washer when Rowan fished out the folded piece of paper. Merely a receipt from any of the establishments he visited last weekend, he tossed it on top of the dryer while he finished loading the rest of the clothes and tossed in the detergent. He swiped it up again to throw away on his way out. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he decided to look at it before trashing it. Just to make sure it wasn’t from anything he might need to return later. 

When he unfolded it and saw the  writing over the top of a faded credit card transaction, his heart stopped beating. It wasn’t a receipt. Well, it was, but nothing that he had purchased. It was a note written in blue pen, words a little smudged from being folded up before the ink had fully dried. Each letter was in swooping, sloping, cursive letters with a little heart underneath. 

Just in case you need to release some more tension. I know I do. - A

The short message was followed by a series of numbers, and Rowan had never in his entire life scrambled so hard to put a contact into his phone. A tattooed finger traced over the numbers, lips mouthing the numbers in an attempt to double check himself. Without giving himself a single heartbeat to change his mind or chicken out, he pressed call. 

By now she could have forgotten about him entirely. Maybe she wasn’t interested anymore, or perhaps it had taken him too long to reach out. He did have a good reason for the latter, but she might not see it that way. There was hope that she would, though. Everything about her had seemed easy going and he doubted she would be mad that she sent him on a scavenger hunt with no directions. Maybe if he wore normal clothes instead of athletic shorts or sweats more often he would have found it sooner. It was too late to change that now, though. Impatient fingers drummed atop the counter while it rang, and rang, and rang.

Her voice chirped through the speaker, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was just the recording of her voicemail. Her accent, so different from his but lovely all the same said in a teasing tone, “While it is your absolute utmost misfortune to have missed me, leave a message and I’ll call you back. Unless it’s about work. Call my work phone and we’ll talk about it.” 

 Rowan had never wished so badly to have someone’s business line in his life, but he still patiently waited for the beep. His heart was a stampede of wild horses while he waited for the beep. As soon as it sounded, he cleared his throat and immediately grimaced at himself. Idiot. Why didn’t he do that before it started recording?

“Aelin, it’s Rowan. I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but someone hid her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans and I just got around to doing laundry. I’m not in Varese this week, I’m actually in Doranelle for work. But I should be back in town soon, maybe next week, I–” The voicemail beeped, declaring the message was fully recorded and he swore colorfully as he ended the call. 

With a mind of their own, his fingers opened a new text thread and shot off a message: My voicemail got cut off, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for it. xx  

After pressing send, he cringed. Since when did he sign off a text message with an x? Much less two of them? He’d spent one night with the woman and now he could barely figure out which way was up and which was down. 

 Sure, he had been out of the dating game for quite some time, but he didn’t have to sound like he was. The last time he flirted intentionally had been years ago. Every other encounter had been random hookups in random cities across the world where he didn’t have to worry about following up.

Except that this time, he wanted to. There had been so much ease when he talked to her, the flirting had come naturally. It hadn’t even been wholly intentional to begin with. Rowan had never used talking about soccer as a seduction technique, but it had clearly worked on her somehow. The banter they’d shared back and forth displayed a unique type of chemistry he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. He could only hope that she felt the same way and still wanted to do it all over again, too.

~*~

“I really like everything you have here, but–”

“It’s not great,” Luca interrupted, his shoulders sagging while he waited for the sharp edge of disappointment. Aelin’s lips pursed as she looked at the young man. Luca was fresh out of college as a graphic designer, and working for the Fireheart Art Foundation was his first real world job post-graduation. It made her simultaneously want to berate the insecurity out of him and comfort him by how traumatized he was from difficult professors in college. 

“I was just going to say that I want this header font to be white.” She gave him a look that portrayed exactly how she felt about how hard he tended to be on himself. “I wouldn’t have hired you to work in this office if I thought you needed to be micromanaged.” 

Luca let out a breath, nodding and sinking into one of the chairs across from her desk. Nervous hands ran up and down his thighs like he was shaking out the nerves. She understood. The feeling of mountains of pressure on you and like you had no room for error was a familiar one. Helas below, she felt like that right now. Aelin was in her mid-twenties and running a charity and she refused to let it fail. 

“I just want to do a good job.”

“And you are, my friend. I chose you and your portfolio of work out of a lineup of seasoned professionals. You bring something new, young, and fresh to the table. Your lack of experience doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing a good job. It just means that you’re still learning, and I want to help you with that. You don’t need to be nervous to show me something that you’ve created. If something needs to be tweaked, obviously I’m going to tell you. But you understand the brand I’m building and the image I’m putting out almost as well as I do. Be more kind to yourself,” she said gently, a soft smile pulling at her lips. 

“You are nothing like what my professors said future bosses would be like.” Aelin laughed at the same time her personal phone started buzzing on her desk. She didn’t recognize the number and it was silenced as she handed the tablet back over to Luca. 

“I sure hope not. While I have a specific vision of things, I want you to use your creativity and have fun with it. I’m never going to give you a list of a hundred specifications. I’ll tell you what needs to be included and let you take your knowledge of our company plus your creativity so you create something you’re proud of. When you eventually move on from Fireheart, I don’t want you to have a stack of things you made for us that you aren’t proud of to show off. Okay?” Aelin’s phone pinged with a new voicemail from whoever had been calling and sighed. “Email me the file after you change the header.”

Luca gave a mock salute and flipped the tablet case closed, walking toward the door and shutting it behind him. Aelin let out a content sigh in the silence, leaning her head against the back of her hair while she gazed out the window at the city below her. She let it sink in, the work she was beginning in a new country on a different continent, an ocean away from home. 

It was easy to allow herself to feel pride in the foundation, an idea she brought to her parents a few years ago. The Fireheart Foundation began three years ago when she was twenty-two. What started as an idea to work with local underprivileged youth in Orynth soon blossomed into two, then three, then four offices scattered over Terrasen. Her home country had always taken huge pride in the arts– Orynth itself was huge on the importance of it for its young citizens. The rest of the world shared those sentiments because by its second year they were receiving global recognition. Now, on the eve of its third birthday, Aelin was expanding to Wendlyn: her mother’s home country. 

She had plenty of family in Varese. Most of Evalin’s family still lived here, Aelin’s grandparents included. Ever the proud grandfather, Ciaran Ashryver had been beyond excited to help her find an apartment until the end of November, locate appropriate office space, and had started putting out a few feelers for potential employees almost as soon as she mentioned the idea. By the time she stepped off her plane, she was all set with somewhere to live and a floor in a building downtown to begin working. 

A handful of employees from the other locations in Terrasen had arrived this morning to be hands on in helping train some of the Varese staff. New members to this office were taking positions that needed little actual training and something more like direct guidance from Aelin. Like Luca and his graphic design. He didn’t need to be trained how to do his job, just needed the push to grow into his full potential. 

Aelin’s thoughts were tugged back to reality when another small vibration from her phone had her reaching for it. Ah, right. The missed call, voicemail, and now text message from the number she didn’t know. It was a local area code– probably a new employee getting her their contact information like she’d requested. 

As soon as she saw the message preview, though, she was quick to unlock the screen. With arms braced on her desk, she scanned the message with a growing smile on her face. Rowan. He had finally found the note, it seemed. No time was wasted in saving his number to her contacts and tapping furiously to get to the voicemail. 

When Rowan was cut off mid-sentence, she laughed out loud. It was really more of a school girl’s giggle than anything, relief that he had not just texted, but called, too. It made warmth flood from her toes to her fingertips. There had just been something about him, about their matching wit and seductive teasing that left her craving more. For the first time in an extremely long time, it hadn’t felt like it was just about sex. Despite how she had kept everyone at arm’s length and refused to let them get close since her relationship with Sam had ended so poorly, things with Rowan had been different since the moment he sat beside her at that bar. It didn’t mean it would go anywhere besides a fun fling, but a kernel of hope still flickered in her chest.

She tried to think about what Lysandra would tell her to do: how long she should wait to text him back, what the rules were. It had already been nearly a week, though. Hadn’t there been enough waiting on both parts? His voicemail had sounded rushed enough that it was like he was impatient to talk to her again, too. The follow up text practically proved it. No, she wouldn’t follow silly hard-to-get dating rules. Maybe she didn’t want to be hard to get. Besides, she was only here for a few more months. It likely wouldn’t lead to anything serious, and there was no harm in having fun while she was here.

That is what Lys would want for her. Something fun and easy that she didn’t have to think too much about. That would give her release from the insanity of running an international foundation with little outside help. Having made up her mind, she tapped his contact and hit the call button. 

“Aelin?” Her name was breathless on his tongue when he picked up after the third ring. With a brow furrowed in curiosity and a small smile resting on her lips, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the somersault her stomach lurched into when he said her name.

“Rowan,” Aelin drawled, entirely positive that he sighed with what sounded like relief. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound–”

“No, I was just– no. This is good. Perfect time, actually.”

“Are you sure?” She heard rustling on the other end, like maybe he was adjusting himself where he sat. 

“Is it embarrassing and off-putting if I tell you I lunged for my phone when I heard it ringing? I was in my bedroom and jumped onto the couch to get it before it stopped.” 

“What if it hadn’t been me calling back? Did you even check the caller ID?” The laughter that bubbled out of her was entirely involuntary. Having a man that excited to talk to her was so sweet it made her teeth ache. When had anyone ever been so forthcoming with any level of affection for her? Dorian, probably, but that was a relationship based solely on fun and most of the time he was teasing.

“No,” he grumbled. “I would have disconnected the call as soon as I got a denial it wasn’t you.” 

“That is the most adorable thing a man has ever said to me,” she vowed, her hand resting on her stomach to calm the swarm of butterflies within. 

“I’m not doing an absolute shite job, then?” There was a timidness to his voice that made her heart squeeze. What on earth did he have to be nervous about? 

“I called you back, didn’t I?” She teased, but when he didn’t answer and seemed to be waiting for a genuine response, she assured him that he was doing absolutely perfect. 

~*~

“Who the fuck has you smiling, Whitethorn?” Lorcan Salvaterre whipped his towel out to smack Rowan directly in the stomach. He immediately frowned, locked his phone, and rubbed the spot above his belly button the corner of the towel had popped. Lorcan tossed the weapon over his shoulder, sitting down on the bench in front of his cubby. The wet, dark curtain of hair hung around his face as he bent down to start shoving his match gear into the bag at his feet.

“Nobody.”

“That’s a lie,” Fenrys quipped from behind them. Rowan glared over his shoulder, knowing full well that the blonde was in complete cahoots with his twin brother. Evidently Connall had told him everything. How Fen had managed to keep his mouth shut about it all week was entirely beyond him. If it hadn’t been about his personal life, Rowan might have been impressed with his self control. “He met a girl.”

Lorcan’s head swung around, eyebrows raised high as he said, “Did we not learn our lesson from the last jersey chaser?” 

With a scowl pulling his entire face into a frown, Rowan shook his head. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t even know who I am. To be entirely honest, I don’t think she would have talked to me if I hadn’t saved her from one of Con’s mystery cocktails.”

At that, Lorcan winced. Just like he’d told Aelin, they were all too familiar with those special drinks. It didn’t matter how impressive one’s alcohol tolerance was, no one was safe. Rowan distinctly remembered a time several years back when he had to tie Lorcan’s black hair out of his face to avoid it getting in the toilet. Everyone was pretty sure he had alcohol poisoning that night, but it wasn’t totally Connall’s fault, either. Lorcan had said he could handle it. The joke was on him at the end of the night, though. Nobody could handle them as delicious as they might be. Those fuckers were dangerous. 

“Met her at the pub then?” Lorcan’s eyes were full of hesitancy and skepticism as he spoke. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. That topic was a tedious tightrope to walk, one that had ended in Rowan shutting down completely more than once. 

“She gave me a lot of shit about ‘soccer.’ We talked through most of the Orynth and Red Desert game.”

“And then Rowan took her upstairs and–” A sweaty pair of shorts hit Fenrys directly in the face, cutting him off with a violent gag. Always the drama king. “I just showered.”

“That’s enough out of you, boyo,” Rowan said in a tone that meant shut up or it will be my fist next time.  A few of their other teammates filtered from the showers, several of them claiming they needed full body massages STAT. Rowan was inclined to agree, but he had better things to do tonight. They had won their match against Adarlan and he was feeling lucky all around.

“You’re not… worried?” Lorcan was pulling on a fresh pair of socks as Rowan sat on the bench beside him, jaw tight. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Aelin gave no indications that she knew who he was, and most of the girls that fawned after them for being professional athletes couldn’t make it through a whole conversation without expressing what huge fans they were. As if their obsession with his body would make him more likely to sleep with them. It was a trick that worked when he was young and stupid, but now that he was older it was just… violating. 

No, he wasn’t skeptical. It had been two weeks and soccer had only come up in the form of jokes between conversations that ranged from casual to toeing the deep-and-personal line. Their texts were as constant through the day as they could be with them both working. At night when they were both available and Rowan wasn’t completely wiped out from practice, they would have hours-long phone calls. Last night Aelin had fallen asleep mid-sentence, like she couldn’t stand to say goodnight to him even though she needed to sleep. When he realized she had dozed off, nothing but the soft huffs of her breathing coming through his speaker, he’d quietly wished sweet dreams upon her before hanging up.

Her apologies had been profuse throughout the day, but they weren’t needed. It had been a long while since anyone had taken the time to get to know him for him and not one of the world’s best center-forwards. With her, he was just Rowan. No grass-stained jerseys and golden trophies attached. Just the version of himself that he was over ninety percent of the time. 

“I’m not worried about that with her. She’s not… like that. I’m going to tell her what I do soon,  but for now she thinks I coach at the high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He and Lorcan did put on football camps at their old high school in Doranelle over the summer. Tirelessly, they would host two separate camps that lasted for two weeks in June and July. It was part of his job… just not his actual job right this second.

“What does she do?” Fenrys asked, shooting Rowan’s dirty shorts back over to him. He dropped them into his bag and zipped it up, slipping his feet into his slides. Vaughan came out of the showers then, bumping his fist as he passed and muttering that Rowan played well, to which he gave his friend a nod in return. 

“Charity work. She teaches piano and dance class at different art programs. For the next few months she’s doing after school lessons in Varese.” Rowan hefted the duffel up onto his shoulder, wincing as he stood. Nothing was hurt, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be. While he should probably spend some time in an ice bath to help his muscles recover, it was honestly the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was getting in his car and speeding down the highway to Varese.

“Please tell me you’re not about to get in your car and drive two hours to see a girl you just met immediately after a game,” Lorcan said flatly. Try as he might, it was impossible not to grin. Just a little. 

“Hate to disappoint you. Maybe you’ll understand one day when you stop being such a coldhearted dick.” It was a joke, but there was some truth to it. Lorcan had a strict policy about women during game season, and kind of in general. There would be absolutely no distractions for him during the season. He might let off some steam and have random hookups here and there, but the possibility of any sort of real relationship was off the table. During the off-season, he claimed it was time to have fun. Everyone was thoroughly convinced he would never settle down, or that it would take an absolute badass of a woman to turn him into a house-broken man. Rowan wasn’t sure that was possible. 

Lorcan grumbled mostly to himself while the rest of their lingering teammates gave Rowan encouraging slaps on the back. While he hated that it was out to his teammates and friends already, he knew it was genuine support. A few years ago he had been through absolute hell and ever since there had been a stormy cloud hovering over his head because of it.  Rowan knew Lorcan came from a good place. Everything with Lyria had ended… extremely poorly. Things with Aelin wouldn’t be like that, though. This was different. She was different. 

It had been two and a half weeks  since the first night, and their budding relationship had been strictly through text messages, phone calls, and the occasional video chat. Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to Varese because of practice, games, and her work schedule. The one night he would have been able to make it into the city, she had called him an hour before he was due to head out and explained that something came up at work that she had to deal with. It had been disappointing, but he understood. If they had lost their game today he wasn’t so sure he would be driving anywhere but home to sulk. 

With a shiny new win under his belt, he was eager as he snapped his seatbelt into place and began the two hour drive up to Verese. It would be after ten by the time he finally got there, but Aelin had insisted– was still assuring him– that it was entirely okay. Evidently she would have dinner ready for them when he arrived. His growling stomach could hardly wait. 

~*~

Rowan’s muscles throbbed dully when he pulled himself from his car a couple hours later. Thankfully he would have the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to recover before practice. He made a mental note to head in early for a little physical therapy on Monday morning.

The plan was that they would hang out for a little while before Rowan headed to his apartment in the city. While he lived primarily in Doranelle, he liked that he could be a little more low-key in Varese most of the time. It had become his second home, and a few years ago it made sense to get an apartment nearby to avoid having to crash in Connall or Fenrys’s guest room every time he was in town. Tomorrow, Rowan had vowed to show Aelin his favorite spots downtown and a few that he just had an inkling she would like. 

Based on their conversations, Aelin had quite the sweet tooth. There was a bakery on 4th avenue that was more than capable of satisfying her cravings. Less than a five minute walk from her office was his favorite coffee shop, and the heart of the city was stuffed to the brim of delicious restaurants and alluring confectionary shops she would love. The weather tomorrow would be absolutely beautiful– the perfect day to stroll downtown before the beginning of another hectic week for Rowan. For her, too, it seemed because she had days where she felt like she was putting out little fires everywhere. 

Double checking the apartment floor and number Aelin had sent over earlier that afternoon, Rowan began his climb up the stairs. It was an older building with the elevator apparently in a constant out-of-order state since she had moved in. She had both complained and apologized about it in advance, but Rowan was used to running up and down the stands during practice that it didn’t really matter.

Despite being a century old, the building had character and hadn’t slipped from its former glory. The floors were black and white marble, the wood of the staircase a deep mahogany. Gold accents were littered throughout in vases, frames, and wall sconces. Just inside the front door a glittering chandelier reflected small rainbows along the walls and floor through the crystals that dangled from its arms. Even if Rowan hadn’t known its historic significance, it was easy to imagine how it looked just after it opened. It was still a luxury apartment building, regardless of age.

His thighs ached with the ascent, feeling every stride he had taken on the field a few hours ago. Thankfully he only had to get to the second floor and a few doors down according to Aelin. Gods, he was exhausted. There was little time in a match when Rowan wasn’t on the field and throwing his all into every step he took, every kick that sent the ball flying into the goal with ease. After most games he would soak in an ice bath or get stretched out by one of the trainers, but he’d been entirely too eager to get to Varese to waste any time. Tomorrow he might regret it a little, but he would have regretted not making the drive even more.

It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her door that he started to have a small, momentary bout of  panic. How was he supposed to greet her? Did he hug her? Kiss her? They hadn’t discussed it, but then again who plans out a greeting? Rowan wanted to bang his head against the door at the knots this woman twisted his stomach into. He was being ridiculous. Rowan Whitethorn was a thirty-one year old grown man, for wyrd’s sake. Surely he could handle not fucking up as soon as she opened the door. 

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Seconds after knocking, Aelin opened the door and pulled him inside by his fingers, rocking up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as soon as the door was closed before saying, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, letting her pull him deeper into the apartment. 

Rowan had seen the space in the background of their video chats, but it became abundantly clear that Aelin had a taste for opulence. Various pieces of art were framed all over the walls, fresh flowers rested on the table tops. Several jewel-toned rugs lay upon the restored wooden floors and her couch was deep green made of plush velvet. The dining and end tables were golden and topped with marble. Even the blankets over the back of the couch were fluffy fabrics that no doubt felt like being covered with a cloud. 

A handful of boxes were still stacked in the corner of the living room, easily visible because of the open floor plan the space offered. To the left, the kitchen boasted marble countertops with golden hardware. Yes, this apartment building was still very much in its golden age, or maybe Aelin was just that skilled with decorating.

Rowan’s was a modern apartment building closer to the business district, but this one honestly blew it out of the water. In the short time she had been there, only a few weeks she had told him, Aelin had managed to make this into a home. It felt lived in and loved, like she had always been here. Despite being able to smell the slightly-musty age of the building, it was buried under layers of jasmine, lemon verbena, and the dinner she had simmering on the stove. 

“Ignore the boxes, I’m still waiting for some shelving to come in for my books and things,” she explained with the wave of her hand. As if the stack of boxes could ever take away from the magical oasis she had transformed the apartment into. Compared to this, the house in Doranelle that he had lived in for the last six years was bare and nowhere near a home. 

“Are you sure you’ve only been staying here for a few weeks?” Aelin’s laughter was bright as she walked into the kitchen and began mixing the contents of a large pan with a wooden spoon. Aelin’s legs were bare, seemingly nothing beneath the t-shirt that hung to the tops of her thighs. 

“I’m a creature of luxury. Besides, I’ll be splitting my time between here and Orynth with work.” It was admirable how much she seemed to love the kids she taught, how passionate she was about her work. Piano and dance lessons couldn’t afford an apartment like this, though. Not when she so proudly supported underprivileged areas of major cities. Rowan was sure her parents had the money to help her out, not that it mattered. That was a conversation for another day, especially when she started plating their dinner. “I hope you like pasta.” 

“Are there people that don’t?” He asked, taking both plates from her. Aelin walked past him with a bottle of wine and two glasses, heading for the couch instead of the table. 

“It should be a felony, but I’m sure some bizarre creature or a human exists out there, hating pasta with every fiber of their being.” Rowan snorted in response, handing her the plates after she sat down and folded her legs like a pretzel in front of her. The tiniest pair of shorts that he’d ever seen peaked out from beneath the hem of her shirt. 

Sitting beside her and taking his plate, he had to fight back a groan when he took the first bite. Aside from his mother, he couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that didn’t involve a waitress as a go-between. It was nice to feel cared for, he realized. Even if they both knew tonight would end in her bed. 

A documentary played while they ate, conversation ebbing and flowing with ease throughout. He managed to get her talking a little more about work, how a coworker named Luca was having a hard time with confidence in what he produced but he didn’t need to be. According to Aelin, he was a brilliant young graphic designer and she hoped that with some nurturing under her wing, he would bloom to his full potential. 

When he asked about siblings, she shrugged, “I have a cousin that’s really more like my brother. We’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Besides him, I’m an only child.” 

“So am I, but I have a hoard of cousins. I’m closest to Sellene and Endymion. Sellene would like you.” 

“What’s not to like?” She teased, eyes full of mirth as she looked at him over the top of her wine glass. The heat in her eyes gave him a vivid memory of  what she had looked like writhing beneath him. 

Gods above, he needed to get a grip.

Aelin listened intently while he talked about his mom and dad, Sellene and Endymion. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell when he recounted memories from his childhood and chimed in with her own. Both of them may have been only children, but agreed they’d never felt lonely or alone for the most part.

“There was a period when my cousin went off to college—” she paused for another sip of wine and to place her empty bowl on the coffee table. Rowan did the same. “That was the only time I felt lonely. He’s four years older than me, so it was hard to go through my entire high school experience with him not quite as close. He actually went to college in Doranelle and could only really come home for holidays. He surprised me for my 16th birthday and it was the best one I’ve ever had.” 

There was a small smile on her lips before she continued, “My parents had a limo for me and my friends to ride to the venue it was at, and I got in the car and the partition was lowered. The driver was wearing a hat and aviators, straight out of a movie. And then he said I hear we have a birthday girl in our midst and I knew it was him. I completely lost it. Best present ever.” Rowan found himself grinning along with her, her joy at the memory contagious to his core. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t have cousins that terrorized you until you were big enough to fight back.” That had been the general tone of his upbringing, but once he went through puberty and grew well over six feet tall, the teasing had calmed down a bit. Probably because Rowan could easily throw Enda over his shoulder by the point.

“Oh, gods. Believe me, we have been through it. There were times when he was annoyed that I wanted to do everything he did, and times when I was annoyed that he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends or boys that I liked. He used to sit on me and tickle me until I cried and we were constantly trying to flick each other until we were bruised like peaches. Typical sibling stuff.”

Rowan laughed, nodding as he recalled having very similar memories with Enda specifically. He could relate to the ones based in annoyance— Sellene had been a hellion. 

“Sellene used to embarrass me in front of pretty girls, too. Not that I needed help in that department. I do fine enough on my own to this day, but seventeen year old Rowan didn’t know how to talk to women at all.” 

“You’ve done alright with me.” Aelin’s small hand reached for his, lacing their fingers like she had done it a million times. Her nose wrinkled as she grinned, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Godsdamn, this woman. 

“I wouldn’t be so lucky if we were in high school.” At that, she laughed, making a teasing quip about his rushed voicemail and stilted text message. At the end, she reassured him it was charming and that he wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think so. 

“Some people struggle digitally. I won’t hold it to you, old man.” Rowan flicked her knee at the moniker, but couldn’t repress the smile on his lips all the same. 

~*~ 

“Rowan,” Aelin said softly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. The man behind her released a low groan as his arm tried to pull her back down. 

After talking for what must have been hours, they settled on watching New Girl and had, apparently, fallen asleep not too long after it started. A wide yawn escaped her as she patted his thigh a few times to rouse him awake. 

“Shit, what time is it?” Rowan forced himself to sit up behind her, knocking his elbow into her shoulder in the process. Instead of cowering in pain, she started to giggle through the sleepy fog. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” she promised, tapping the screen of her phone. “It’s almost five.”

“I can go. I didn’t mean to fall—”

“I’m not waking you up to kick you out. I’m waking you up to come to bed with me.” Aelin stood, holding out her hand. Once she had both of his hands in hers she began to tug, taking steps backward while he pretended to protest by going nearly entirely limp against the couch. “You can sleep by yourself out here, it’s fine.” 

Dropping both of his hands she turned and made her way toward her bedroom. Aelin had only made it a handful of feet away before strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Rowan pressed soft kisses against her neck at the same time he lifted her entirely off the floor. Stomach flipping, she squealed while he padded toward her bedroom, finally placing her down on the bed. 

She was quick to crawl under the blankets, flipping them back so he could get in with her. He followed dutifully, slinging his shirt off and tossing it onto a little chair in the corner of her room as he sank down until his head rested against the pillow. 

Despite how easy it would be for either of them to roll onto the other and make the other unravel at the seams, she gently pecked his lips a few times. Each one lingered a little more than the last until she finally pulled away and rested her head against his chest. With his hand rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, it was easy to melt into him, eyes drifting shut as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that smelled like home. @elentiyawhitethornorn @autumnbabylonylon @fancysludgeshoelampelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-lifee @the-hospitality-of-knivesf-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior

[llyncooljones]

actions have consequences - twelve days of rowaelin '22.

ao3 || masterlist || twelve days of rowaelin ‘22 masterlist

prompt: santa getting caught out.

word count: 1193

trigger warnings: language, sexual themes

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life  @rowaelinismyotp  @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn  @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck  @letstakethedawn @rowaelinscourt

It was Christmas Day, and Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius was reclined on the massive sectional his wife had bought years ago, in order to fit him, and his giant friends. There was a similar couch opposite, which she bought for her and her similarly small friends.

He was no longer sure which had been bought first, nor which person coveted it the most.

He was bedecked in matching Christmas pyjamas, a shirt proclaiming him ‘GRUMPY CLAUS’ with a shoddy illustration printed beneath it of him in a Santa hat. Also, his frown—is majorly exaggerated.

His wife’s named her ‘MRS CLAWS’, a similarly shit drawing of a cat wearing a Christmas hat, and a turquoise collar declaring it ‘A.A.W.G.’.

His kids’ pyjamas were a variation of animal puns, and their own most identifiable personality trait. Their oldest, Oren, who was barely five hadn’t taken his off since they presented to him on the twenty-third, and no matter how hard they tried, he was irrationally attached to them.

As his wife stood, popping into the kitchen to grab herself another drink, Oren stood from where he was laying out his latest unwrapped gift—a LEGO set he’d practically begged for. He toddled his way to Rowan, and with scrambling legs got himself up onto the sofa.

He squashed the cushions that Rowan had agonisingly plumped the night before, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Squashing down the cushions so that your uncles are uncomfortable—maybe you’re less like me than I thought. That is all your mother, Ore.”

For once, when he compared his son to the boy’s mother, he didn’t smile, grin, or laugh and run to tell Aelin. He frowned, his lips wobbled, and he looked absolutely distraught. “Don’t say that, daddy. Don’t. You don’t know what you’re comparing me to.” His son frowned even deeper, and Rowan's heart broke.

What on earth was going on?

“Kiddo, can you tell daddy what’s wrong?” his son shook his head, and slam himself into the couch cushions as if the world were ending. His heart rate picked up with a concern, what was his son doing, let alone talking about? “Can you whisper it in my ear? So, no one can hear, yeah?”

Oren gave a shaky nod, and scrambled along the cushions to settle himself right next to Rowan, practically breaking his ribs with the force he sat down. He got himself onto his knees and grabbed onto his hair, yanking Rowan’s silver locks like it wasn’t attached to his head. “Ow, bud, that hurt,” he chastised gently, prying the little fingers from his hair.

“This gonna hurt e’en more, daddy. But I need to get closer, so I can whisper in your ear, so mummy doesn’t hear me. She can’t know, daddy. She can’t!” he emphasised his final point with a foot stomp absorbed by the fluff in the cushion, but it rocked Rowan like an earthquake’s epicentre was directly beneath him.

“Alright, no telling mummy. But let’s tell daddy now, yeah. Because daddy really wants to know, you’re making him worried, Oren.” His tone was muted, calming to his nearly five-year-old.

Placing a foot on his ribs to reach his father’s ear, Oren began “Y’know how Mrs H and Mr H divorced because he loved other women, daddy?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Mummy loves other men.” Oren's tone is gentle, and he tries to run a soothing hand up and down Rowan’s shoulder but only serves to catch a sharp bit of fingernail in the soft, loose cotton, and snag it. He whimpers as Rowan pulls it out.

Rowan attempts to sit up, going to find the nail scissors he and his wife have stashed all around the house for such incidents, but fails as his son whispers once more, “She loves Santa, daddy. I snuck downstairs yesterday, and I saw her kissing him, just like she kisses you. Gah,” he spits out, horrified by the idea of affection and others ‘things’ between his parents.

Shit. Shit. Shit, Rowan thinks. How could he and his wife—his very attractive wife—have been so absorbed in each other that they hadn’t noticed their four-year-old making his way down the ancient, creaky staircase?

And how come his son couldn’t recognise him, when he clearly recognised Aelin, Rowan hadn’t even been wearing a Santa hat, for the gods’ sake.

He wasn’t insulted, he wasn’t. But it did sting a tad.

“Oh, kiddo. Let me grab some nail scissors so you don’t snag your nail again, and then we’ll talk this through.” Rowan placated, finally moving his son off him enough to stand up and stretch.

“And don’t tell mom—”

“I won’t trust me. I won’t tell her.”

Rowan wandered into the kitchen, cool as a cucumber, but quickly changed attitude when he caught sight of his wife. His body reacted, but he shushed it—and he suddenly remembered why they weren’t able to hear their clumsy, loud, and not-very-sneaky child as he made his way down the stairs last night. He had picked well, so very, very well.

His hand caught her shoulder, and he dragged her out of the kitchen, to the downstairs bathroom, which he pushed them into. He locked the door and turned around to find his wife with her pyjama shirt off and matching trousers around her thighs, bent over the sink, a wicked glint in her eye.

“Time for my Christmas present, babe?” she asked, crooking a finger at him, winking, and shaking her hips a tad. Her arse jiggled too, and he had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on her, and delivering on every promise he’d whispered in her ear this morning—whilst their children were heading for their bedroom door, of course.

“No.” she pouted, and ran a hand under herself to entice him, “No! your ‘present yesterday whilst we were setting up stockings is why we’re in here now, and we need to have a chat.”

“Uh-huh, hence why I’m trying to have you fuck me.”

“No, as in we were so caught up in our kiss that we didn’t notice Oren sneak downstairs just in time for him to witness us kissing.”

“No, oh my gods, no.” she hurriedly pulled her trousers, and with a chaste kiss to the top curve of her boob, Rowan pulled her shirt over her head. “we have to have the talk with him, about Santa not being real. Fuck, I wanted to hold on to that, at least till next year.

“Yep. Worse than that, he recognised you, but not me. So now he thinks you’re cheating on me, like Mrs H cheated on Mr H, only you aren’t cheating with your assistant, you’re cheating with fucking Santa Claus.”

“So, we need to find out where he heard about Mrs and Mr H, and we need to tell him that—”

“Santa’s not real. Perfect, honestly.”

A gasp sounds outside of the door, first “Santa’s not real?” at a decibel loud enough that their youngest two children heard—perfect—and then, “I hate you, daddy, you told me you wouldn’t tell mummy!” in a hurt tone—perfect—before a final, “have you got the scissors daddy, it got caught on the sofa?”

[bookofmirth]

omg did someone say headcanons? Rowaelin family Halloween headcanons!

Ooh I see the ToG Halloween one but the one I submitted means Rowaelin & their babies/kids on Halloween, just to clarify ☺️ getting their kiddos dressed up and going trick-or-treating and all that good stuff

Ok okay! One rowaelin kid Halloween headcanon, coming up.

Before they have kids, Aelin goes the super sophisticated route. Dressing up, sparkly, out all night dancing

But then when they start having kids, Aelin wants everyone to be coordinated. 

At first they are like a scarecrow and her husband and their squishy baby pumpkin. 

Then they have more kids! And Aelin is like omg the possibilities are endless. 

They tried to be DIY costume people but.... Aelin tells people she is too ambitious. 

It’s not that she isn’t skilled with a needle and thread, exactly.... but when her kids all ask the be costumed as wyverns one year and she wants their scales to be lifelike, she is limited in what she can accomplish herself.

Aelin loves haute couture, but that doesn’t mean she can do it herself.

One year, Rowan asks if he can take over.

Aelin is… a bit skeptical. It’s not that he isn’t a fantastic father because obviously he is. He’s just never been one for fashion, or a cohesive ~aesthetic~.

When they make their grand entrance, Aelin is speechless.

He asked the kids to pick their hero, and their eldest daughter Evalin is dressed in a miniature version of Aelin’s coronation gown.

There are tiny versions of Manon, Fenrys, and Elide. 

The youngest is Fleetfoot.

She breaks down crying.

They go through the whole knocking from one door to another asking for candy.

At first Aelin is very paranoid about letting her kids go around like that, even near home, even when she and Rowan are there.

Peace is always tenuous. But one day when her youngest son wanders off and she runs around in a panic, she’s relieved to see the efforts of her people at finding him. 

He’s fine, of course. And Aelin is reassured that everyone around her was in as much of a panic as she was. Not because she’s the queen, but because they love her family, too.

So the deal is that Aelin goes through their bags of candy, ostensibly checking for poison and such, but really she’s just making sure that everyone gets their favorite candies.

If that means she ends up with a sizable portion for herself, so be it.

She catches her eldest daughter Evalin bargaining with the younger kids. 

“You give me that candy apple, and I’ll make your bed for a week.”

They readily agree.

When Aelin reminds Evalin that they have maids for that, she shrugs.

Aelin wonders if she’s begun the diplomacy and negotiation lessons too soon. But she’s not too worried about the future of Terrasen.

When Evalin asks to take over the family costumes one year, Aelin suggests that they do it together.

It becomes a tradition for the two to be in charge of everything - the clothes, the decorations, the party, the music. 

[throneofglassisking]

Ok so since I'm kinda new to your gen 2, who are all the kiddos and who's in a relationship with who?

Ok so it took me a minute to get all of them down, but I’m basically just going to do a list in terms of characters by ships and stuff.

Manorian: Rhiannon Havilliard, Asterina Havilliard

Rowaelin: Nehemia Galathynius, Gabriel Galathynius, Roman Galathynius, Deanna Galathynius, and Malena Galathynius

Elorcan: Callum Lochan

Lysaedion: Gavrielle Ashryver, Adrianna Ashryver (twins)

Chaorene: Kashin Westfall

Nestaq: Camilla, Orion, Robin

Non-Ship: Lilith Arturian, Hecate (Rolfe’s daughter), Edalyn Ashryver (Galan’s daughter), and Artemis (Fenrys and Vaughan’s adopted daughter).

As far as pairings, I’ve had a slight bit of trouble figuring out who I want with who, but I do have a couple. Lilith and Gabriel are intended to be a pairing, Rhiannon and Nehemia are in a relationship, and I’ve thought of pairing up Callum and Roman. As far as other ships go, I’m still figuring those out.

I also have a couple next gen A Court of Thorns and Roses characters that I developed some. There’s my Feysand kid Celeste (Maeve) Archeron, and she’s meant to be paired with Arthur, a white winged Illyrian who was cast out from his home after his mother died and his wings started becoming white.

Hope this works well enough!

[julemmaes]

Hi hi! I'm your secret santa for the Rowaelin exchange! And I wanted to ask you some questions so I can make something you'll hopefully love!

Is there anything else you generally enjoy more? AU types, meet-cutes, established relationships, fluff, holiday themed, other themes, etc. Happy to know any details, likes, kinda-likes, and definitely please share dislikes, too. Excited to create a gift for you! 🙂

Hiii, sorry I'm just seeing this now I don't know when you sent this oop-

I am a s l u t for established relationships and domestic fluff after a tiring work day. Like them cooking together, showering with cute moments (possibly no smut, but I'm not opposed, I just don't want the fic to be one of those "no plot just porn" fics) (also, nothing against that, I love those, just not as a Yulemas gift), going on a date. I really really really love proposals and overly romantic shit

I'm also a self-proclaimed queen of kids fics, or pregnancy fics, so feel free to play with that as well. I love myself some Rowaelin kiddos

I also kinda-like hurt/comfort, but no heavy angsty stuff or anything like that I don't wanna cry at the airport (where I'll be on the 20th, so yeah)

OOH ALMOST FORGOT I FUCKING L O V E LOVE LOOVE RANDOM TOUCHES!!! Physical touch is what I'm starved for and aoisuydfvgbciudgfrb just, yk, random brushes of the arm, the neck, a hand on a tigh, on the jaw. Hugs from behind when the others is busy doing something and the other wants attention. That kind of things:DD

I can't really think of any dislikes right now cause I'm running on three hours of sleep and I'm currently in French class, so my brain is mush, but I'll reblog this post if I come up with anything

Hope I could help, have a nice dayyy<3<3

[aster-ria]

Hi, I saw your Channon Ashryver posts and thought you started ToG next gen series or something. Now my neck hurts from scrolling down your blog but I don't see anything about Rowaelin kiddos lol. So help me please!

Hi!

Well I didn't started it, the aesthetics are like a year old, but yes I have Rowaelin kiddos, though I have thought about them quite a bit over the year, so there is a chance that one of the names is changed for me at least, and I think I also changed how many children they have(and I haven't made aesthetics for thenew ones yet), but two should be still correct. I am just going to tag you in them, okay?

[leiawritesstories]

Practice

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 19: A Day with the Kids (canon) @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none!!! enjoy the fluffy fluffs!

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

“Mama?” A knock pattered softly against the half-open door of Aelin’s study, and a pair of irresistibly huge emerald eyes peered into the room. “May I come in, Mama?” 

Aelin set aside the stack of letters she was reading through and turned in her seat, opening her arms to her youngest daughter. “Of course you can, my little love.” 

Rielle Whitethorn Galathynius, all of seven years old, came slowly into the study, looking curiously around at the shelves of leather-bound books, journals, rolled-up maps, and scattered artifacts that lined the walls of the queen’s study. After a moment, though, she raced to her mother and all but threw herself into Aelin’s lap. Aelin laughed and caught her daughter, kissing her wild silvery-blonde curls. “Hi, lovey.” 

“You’re so busy, Mama,” Rielle murmured, small hands curling into the soft cotton of Aelin’s loose blouse. 

“Never too busy for my family,” Aelin promised. “What’s going on?” 

Her daughter’s eyes glossed over with tears. “When are Dada and Lana gonna come home?” 

Oh.

Aelin pulled her youngest close, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Well, according to the letter that Lana just sent me, they should be home in a couple of days. Definitely by the end of the week.” Gently, she brushed a stray tear off Rielle’s cheek. “I know they’ve been away for a while, lovey, and I know Dada misses you too.” Rowan and Lana, their oldest daughter, had gone to Doranelle for a few weeks to visit Sellene and give Lana the chance to train at the Academy that the Fae Queen of the East had established for all young magic-wielders. 

Rielle’s lower lip quivered. “I miss Lana,” she whispered. The oldest and youngest Whitethorn children had a close bond, even though they were nearly fifteen years apart in age. 

Aelin kissed her baby girl’s forehead. “I know, lovey.” She glanced out the study’s wide, arching windows, looking down into the courtyard, and an idea sparked. “Do you want to go practice with me?” 

“Practice?” 

Nodding, Aelin curled a ribbon of golden flame around Rielle’s head. “Practice.” 

The little girl beamed and jumped off her mother’s lap, ecstatic. “Yes!” 

“All right.” Aelin stood up, reshuffled the papers on her desk, and left the study hand in hand with her daughter. Rielle chattered excitedly as they came out to the courtyard, where two of her siblings were already sparring with a mix of wooden practice knives and their magic. 

Light as air, Charlotte danced circles around her brother Brannon, flicking ice darts against his shield of hard air even as she slashed at him with the wooden dagger in her free hand. Bran fended off each stroke, but Aelin could tell that her son was starting to flag under the constant strain of Charlotte’s offense. He broadened his shield, pushing wind behind it to propel him forward against her onslaught, lunging at her with the short wooden sword in his left hand, but she swiftly gathered her darts into a long ice sword and batted away his lunge. 

“Watch your right, B!” Aelin called across the courtyard, and Bran flicked his sword sideways just barely in time to dodge the sly jab that Charlotte was sending towards his unprotected right side. 

“That’s…cheating,” he panted, clenching his fist so that his shield shrank in size. He wove a breeze around one of Charlotte’s legs and tugged, yanking her off balance. 

She swore at him as she wrenched out of his magic’s grasp. “Says the dirty cheat himself.” With a flick of her wrist, her ice sword shattered into tiny, bladed crystals that she shot at Bran’s shield. He grunted under the onslaught and focused hard enough on blocking that attack that he didn’t notice her swoop in with her wooden dagger and jab him hard in the thigh. He topped with a yelp, and she had her practice blade at his throat in seconds. “Do you yield?” 

He grumbled in frustration and tried to wriggle free, but she pinned him with ice around his wrists and ankles. “Gods damn it! I yield.” 

Charlotte retracted her ice and let Bran up. He shook out his wrists and begrudgingly gave her a short bow. “You would’ve had me if Mum hadn’t said anything,” she said graciously. 

Some of Bran’s grumpiness—inherited directly from his father—ebbed away. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Rielle tugged at Aelin’s hand. “I can practice too, Mama!” she declared. Aelin nodded encouragingly, and Rielle walked a few paces away, closed her eyes, and pressed her hands together in concentration. After a long moment, sparks flickered between her palms, and she carefully brought her hands apart, growing the ball of red-gold flame between them. Scrunching up her little face as she focused, she grew the flames into a sphere, then a ring, then two rings that turned in circles. 

“You’re doing so good,” Aelin praised, and she spun out a ribbon of blue flame, weaving it through her daughter’s flickering flame rings. Her magic brushed up against her daughter’s power, greeting it warmly. 

“Look, Mama!” Rielle’s grin was infectious as her flames fell apart into ribbons, and she wove them through the air. Her small fingers flexed with the strain of control, and she clenched her fists, trying to spool the flames back into a ball. 

But the red-gold fire just winked out. 

Frustrated, Rielle let out a half-sob, half-yell and slumped down to the sandy ground. Aelin snuffed out her flames and dropped down next to her daughter, tucking her fingertips under Rielle’s fallen chin and lifting her face. 

“That was so good, Rielle,” she said, comforting her daughter. “Lovey, when I was your age, I could barely hold onto the fire for a few seconds, and you’re already making shapes.” 

Rielle sniffled. “Really?” 

“Really,” Aelin reassured her. “Can you show me again?” 

Slowly, Rielle nodded, and she curled into her mother’s warm embrace as she clenched her small fist and brought forth a shuddering ball of flame. Aelin cupped her hand under her daughter’s and wrapped Rielle’s flame in her own wildfire, guiding the flames into the shape of a sword. Together, she and her daughter slowly brought the sword down as if striking a blow. 

And it struck a shield of ephemeral silver flame. 

Rielle’s flames flared bright and disappeared, and she shot across the courtyard in a blur of silver-blonde curls and eager shrieking. “LANA!” Indeed, her oldest sister leaned against the archway at the entrance to the courtyard, and as Rielle launched herself up, Lana caught her, hugging her tightly. 

“That was so good!” Lana praised, grinning at her little sister. 

“Really?” Rielle’s eyes were big and hopeful. 

“Really,” Lana beamed. Unlike either her mother or her sister, the crown princess of Terrasen wielded flames of silver—moonfire, a gift that ran parallel to the Galathynius wildfire. A gift that had lain dormant until the goddess Deanna co-opted Aelin’s body that fateful day on the ship, leaving behind a remnant of her gift that had passed down to Aelin and Rowan’s firstborn. 

“Lana’s right, little love.” Rowan wrapped his arms around both girls from behind. 

Rielle shifted from her sister’s arms to her father’s embrace, beaming. “I missed you, Dada!” 

“I missed you more, little love,” Rowan murmured. He swung her up into the air, and she shrieked with joy, a cascade of laughter echoing around the courtyard. 

Lana crossed the courtyard to Aelin and wrapped her arms around her mother. Aelin smiled into her daughter’s hair, marveling at how she had grown so tall. “How was the trip?” she asked. 

“It was…a lot, but in a good way.” Lana wove a thoughtful strand of sheer fire around her wrist. “Aunt Sel and the instructors at the Academy know so much, and I hardly had any time to absorb even a little bit of it.” 

Aelin raised a brow. “And the rest of it?” 

Pink crept into the edges of Lana’s cheeks. “The rest of it was fine.” 

Aelin chuckled and took pity on her oldest. “We can chat about it later, if you want.” 

“Hopefully without half the castle snooping on us,” Lana mumbled. She turned to go and greet the rest of her siblings—which meant spar with them, probably—but flashed her mother a sly wink and a little smirk. “I hope you won’t be too scandalized.” 

“I believe your father and I are plenty scandalous enough already.” Aelin winked right back. 

Lana groaned loudly and covered her eyes. “No!” She headed across the courtyard, seeking refuge from her mother’s naughty humor in the laughter and companionship of her siblings. 

Have we not scandalized her enough already? Rowan’s amusement curled around the corners of her mind. 

Never. Aelin winked slyly at her husband. One might think, though, that after twenty-two years and, perhaps a love of her own, our crown princess wouldn’t be quite so shocked. 

Do not get me started on Lana’s lover—life. On her love life. 

You know I heard that. 

You’ll forget about it soon enough. Rowan slid his arms around Aelin’s waist, one broad hand landing squarely on her hip, his thumb moving in a languid, heated touch. 

She dipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt, dragging her nails lightly across his smooth, warm skin and reveling in his tightly leashed inhale. Is that a promise, buzzard?

It is. That quickly, he turned her own game right back around at her as he brushed a teasingly light kiss against the side of her neck. 

Welcome home, love. She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and he cupped the back of her head, supporting her. We missed you. 

Missed you more. He kissed her again. 

A shower of snowflakes burst over the queen and king’s heads, abruptly yanking them apart. From the other side of the courtyard, their children were alternately catcalling or groaning with theatrical disgust, though they’d all long since grown used to their parents showing affection. 

“Are you done yet?” Lana teased, snickering. 

Aelin laughed. “She’s got the commanding voice, for sure.” 

“She’ll be a wonderful queen one day,” Rowan agreed, his eyes soft, distant. 

Naturally, Charlotte chose that moment to drop a handful of conjured snow down Bran’s shirt, and he shrieked like a small child and chased her around the courtyard and into the gardens, as if the two of them were children rather than nearly adults. Rielle, seeing the fun, hurtled after her older siblings, yelling “You’re it! You’re it!” and Lana, with a flash of a wildfire grin, followed suit. 

“They’re a handful,” Rowan chuckled, pulling Aelin back against his chest. 

She smiled, the warmth of it radiating from her face. “They’re our handful, love.”

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[leiawritesstories]

Mom, Please!

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompts "Lake" & "Splash"

Word count: ~1k if you squint 😂

Warnings: swearing, teenage antics, Rowan getting grey hairs from stress

Enjoy!!!

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

"I hear footsteps," Aelin mumbled, half-drowsy.

"Go back to sleep, Fireheart," Rowan mumbled back, burying his face in her hair. "It's probably just a rabbit or something."

"At---" She cracked her eyes open and stared at the fuzzy numbers on the clock across the bedroom. "One in the morning?"

"Mmmh, fine." Her husband attempted to push himself upright and flopped back into bed with a groan. "Dammit!"

She kissed his shoulder. "Don't throw your back out, old man. I'll go check on things." Aelin pushed herself out of bed and tucked the covers up over her sleepy, grumpy husband, who grumbled something about I'll show you a thrown-out back as she stepped into her slippers and crept out of their bedroom.

The hallway of the lakeside cabin was dark and silent, broken by strips of silvery moonlight filtering in through the skylights. Aelin came into the living room and paused, wondering why the hell the sliding door that led to the patio was cracked open. Had one of the kids forgotten to close it?

And there were those damn footsteps again.

Slowly, she crept up to the windows and nudged the curtain aside just enough to peer out and find---"Gods above, Mom!"

"Holy shit, Lana!" Aelin and her oldest daughter screeched at each other at the same time, and Aelin leapt back from the window as if it had slapped her, wishing she could scrub the sight of Lana and her boyfriend playing tonsil hockey out of her eyes. "Fucking hell," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. "It's too damn late for this."

There was a rustling outside the house, and a very sheepish Lana snuck back inside through the patio door to find her mother sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. "Mom?" she ventured. "Are you...okay?"

Aelin grumbled something incoherent in reply.

Lana discreetly tugged her sweatshirt's hood up, relying on the shadows it cast over her neck. "Um, Mom?"

"I'm fine," Aelin mumbled. "Just gonna have to tell Yrene about this. You could've at least mentioned that Cal's family was here too."

"I didn't know he'd be here," Lana whispered, blushing an adorably bright pink. "He surprised me."

"Pebbles on your window and all that romantic shit?" Aelin teased.

Lana grinned, her smile a mirror of her mom's. "Yeah."

"Can't hardly blame you, then." Aelin stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed before your overbearing father decides I've been gone for too long and hurts himself trying to find his way down the hall in the dark. G'night, sweetheart."

Rowan, of course, was awake when she came back into the bedroom, fumbling for his glasses. "Stop that, buzzard."

He sighed and flopped back into bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just Lana and Cal tangling tongues out behind the patio." She turned onto her side and fluffed up her pillows.

Strangled wheezing erupted from Rowan, and Aelin flipped back over to rub her husband's back until his shock dissipated. "The fuck?" he croaked.

She chuckled and handed him his water. "You know, Lana's boyfriend?"

"I know who," Rowan grumbled. "When? How? Why?"

"Ro, honey, you really don't want me to answer any of that." She kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."

~

The summer sun shone brightly over the lake, and Aelin lounged comfortably in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the laughter surrounding her family.

"Owww! Get away from me!" The shrill shriek was accompanied by a pair of feet sprinting towards Aelin and a smaller body taking refuge behind her chair. "Mom, Bran keeps shooting his stupid water gun at my face!" It was Charlotte, their third child.

"It's not my fault you're afraid of your stupid lashes falling off!" Bran, who was nearly sixteen, yelled back at his younger sister.

Indignant, Charlotte gasped and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. At fourteen and a half, she was the most strongly opinionated of the Whitethorn kids, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "You take that back!" she demanded, and when Bran told her to make him, she picked up a nearby bucket and headed for him.

Aelin opened her eyes and watched her wildfire daughter dump a whole bucket of lake water over her oldest son's head, which resulted in him screaming like a little girl because a frog had happened to be in the bucket and had now found a new home in the back of Bran's swim trunks. She chuckled to herself.

"Kids these days," Lana fake-sighed as she walked past, three more baby frogs cradled carefully in her hands.

"Says the kid who snuck her boyfriend over in the middle of the night," Aelin deadpanned.

Lana's face went scarlet. "Mom, please! Everyone can hear!"

"Just like last night," Aelin added. She winked. "Uncle Fen would be so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Oh my gods," Lana groaned. "You're the---"

"Are those frogs?" A younger voice broke into the conversation, eager eyes peering at Lana's hands. Rielle Whitethorn, the older of the twins by three and a half minutes, jumped up, trying to see the little frogs as Lana put her hands up higher. "I wanna see the frogs, Lana!"

"Shhh!" Lana shot a look over towards where Bran and Charlotte had moved their water gun fight into the lake, joined by Cal and two of his brothers. "I'm gonna dump them on Bran's head." She winked at her little sister. "Wanna join?"

"Hell yeah!"

Aelin lowered her sunglasses. "Rielle Enna Whitethorn!"

"Sorry, Mom." Rielle was ten, and she and her twin brother Declan were like sponges around the older siblings that they idolized. She ran off, following Lana down to the lake, and Aelin watched with her smile hidden behind her book as the two of them crept up behind Bran and successfully released the frogs onto his head.

He howled and scrambled frantically, arms flailing, until he finally gave up and ducked beneath the water to get the frogs off of his head. Aelin snickered, beyond pleased that her children had inherited her fondness for fun little pranks.

Down in the lake, Cal slung his arm around Lana, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear that made her shake with laughter, and pressed his---

"Gods above," Aelin groaned, shoving her face into her book.

Not again.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[leiawritesstories]

babe, it's cold out there

written for @throneofglassmicrofics November prompts "bluster" & "chill" (and probably a few others lmao)

some cute fluff to take my mind off election day yippee!!

word count: 851

warnings: none!

enjoy!!

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

Aelin tugged the front door shut with a shiver, and it closed behind her with a thump that immediately raised a rapid patter of little footsteps from upstairs. Within two minutes, the kids had ambushed her, flinging their little arms around her legs and waist and clamoring over each other to tell Mama about their day.

"Your nose is pink, Mama!" Charlotte announced, pressing her finger to the tip of Aelin's nose as she snuggled into her mother's arms.

"It's awfully windy outside, honey," Aelin chuckled, kissing her six-year-old daughter's head.

Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Daddy had to rake the leaves out of the driveway before you got home!"

"We jumped in the piles!" Bran added, beaming. He was seven, and anything that allowed him to make a mess all over the yard was his favorite activity. "I jumped soooo much!"

"I bet you did, B." Aelin hugged her older son, who wrinkled his nose and squirmed away before she could plop a kiss on his head too.

Lana, the oldest at nine and a half, scoffed under her breath as Aelin let Charlotte down. "And you got leaves in your underwear too."

"Did not!" Bran shrieked, indignant.

"Did too!" Lana stuck her tongue out at him. "Dad said it looked like you peed your pants."

"Shut up, La-La!" Outraged, Bran lunged at his big sister, who dodged and hid behind her mother.

Aelin caught him before he could start throwing fists. "Bran, buddy, you know that's not gonna get you anywhere, and you probably don't want Lana to hit you back."

"She's being mean, Mama," he complained, folding his arms across his chest, turquoise eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Did you have fun jumping in the leaves?"

"Yeah."

"Then don't let what Lana says bother you, okay?"

He huffed a childish sigh, the anger seeping from his small body. "Okay." His eyes brightened. "I got Declan to jump with me!"

"Did you, now?" Laughter sparkled in Aelin's eyes.

Lana snickered. "Dec wanted to do a belly flop, and we watched him to make sure he didn't get hurt."

"Gave me a damn heart attack." Rowan's voice interrupted Aelin's moment with her kids, and she turned to find her husband leaning against the entryway wall with a twin on each hip and a half smirk on his face.

"Don't be dramatic, Dad," Lana sighed, so much like her mother that it made Aelin laugh. "We're very responsible."

"That's my girl." Aelin wrapped her oldest in a hug, affectionately ruffling her blonde curls.

Lana peered at Aelin's face. "Lottie is right, Mom. Your nose is pink."

Aelin unwound the scarf that was looped around her neck. "Well, I had to be outside, and like you all know, it's pretty windy." She knelt down and opened her arms, and both of the twins came sprinting over, burying her in a bundle of three-year-old limbs and excitement. "Hi, little loves. What did you do at preschool today?"

"I make painting, Mama!" Rielle squealed right into Aelin's ear.

Aelin blinked, hiding her wince, and guided her youngest back a step. "I'm sure it's beautiful, sweetheart, but do you remember how we don't yell in people's ears?"

Rielle nodded. "I get my picture!" She ran out into the kitchen, and Aelin shook her head with a laugh as she turned to Declan, the older of the twins by eight whole minutes. "I heard you and Bran jumped in a big leaf pile."

His little face lit up. "I jump in leaves, Mama!" He spread his arms wide and flopped into her lap. "See?"

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" He beamed up at her before running back over to Rowan and demanding for Dada to pick him up.

Rowan chuckled and hoisted the little boy up into his arms. "How about we give Mama a little break, hmm? I'm sure she wants to warm her chilly self up." He shot her a wink.

She shrugged out of her jacket and flicked her scarf at him. "Babe, it's cold out there. It's perfect time for..." She paused, flashing her husband a smirk. "Hot cocoa."

"Yay!" all of the kids yelped, immediately bursting into pleas for the colored marshmallows and bickering over who got to have the Uncle Dorian mug. Dorian had prank-gifted Aelin and Rowan a mug that was 3-D printed in a cartoonish shape of his face, and for some inexplicable reason, her kids were obsessed with it.

"I'm beginning to feel outnumbered," Rowan said under his breath as he set Declan down and went over to Aelin, slipping his arms around her waist. "Who's going to tell the hooligans that they still have to eat all of their dinner even though they get hot cocoa before dinnertime?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can still put on your Stern Daddy face if you have to." She winked wickedly at him, muffling her giggle as his face went scarlet.

"You're a naughty, naughty woman," he mumbled, hiding his blush in her hair.

She just grinned and rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him. "You love it."

"Damn right, I do."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

[leiawritesstories]

queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

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

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

[leiawritesstories]

A Memory of Your Love

Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

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

“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.” 

Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?” 

Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly. 

Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.” 

“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.” 

He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.” 

“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?” 

“Uh…yeeeeees?” 

“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.” 

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.” 

“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed. 

In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!

What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”

That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?” 

“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.” 

I heard that.

I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss. 

Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”

“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!” 

“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.” 

~

For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought. 

Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!” 

“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.” 

He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!” 

“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased. 

Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!” 

“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.” 

His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead. 

She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?” 

“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?” 

Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.

No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.

Right. Just…how much?

As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.

I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.” 

His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?” 

“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?” 

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?” 

“Of course.” 

“Did it hurt?” 

“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.” 

~

Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen. 

Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?” 

“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.

“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul. 

Aelin melted into him. As I love you. 

Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him. 

Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly. 

Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.” 

“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.” 

“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin. 

“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.” 

“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.” 

Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.” 

Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.” 

“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked. 

“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.” 

Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?” 

“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.” 

“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief. 

“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.” 

“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly. 

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.” 

“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words. 

“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.” 

“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?” 

“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.” 

“Can you read them?” Bran asked. 

“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.” 

“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive. 

“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured. 

A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?” 

Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.” 

“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment. 

Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.” 

Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.” 

Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared. 

Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look. 

“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”

“Even the ones that hurt?” 

“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”

[leiawritesstories]

I'm so happy for you, congrats🫶🫶🎉

This prompt: "I would marry you again in a heartbeat."

thank you so much 🥹🥹❤️ i ADORE this prompt

Word count: 1,154

Warnings: kids being uncontrollable as usual

enjoy!!

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

"I'm home!" Aelin called, pressing the button to close the garage door as she stepped into the house. She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief, set down her leather tote, and counted exactly eight seconds before two sets of little arms flung themselves around her legs and waist, two excited little voices squealing for Mama! "Hi, my loves," she laughed, ruffling her children's hair. "Let Mama actually get into the house before you tackle me, alright?"

"Tackle?" Brannon perked up, hearing his favorite word. At ten years old, he was just as sports-minded as all the other boys in his class, and he'd had to learn that if he wanted to tackle, he needed to be outside in the Whitethorn-Galathynius family's expansive backyard.

"Of course that's the only thing you hear," Aelin chuckled to herself. "Not literally, son," she told him. "I'm way too strong for you to tackle."

"Are not!" To prove his point, her son charged, barely able to latch his arms around her waist before she swept him up into her arms, tipped him over her shoulder, and carried him into the playroom.

He shrieked with laughter. "Okay! Okay Mama! You win!"

"That's right, B," she teased, squeezing him in a brief hug. "Hi, my boy. How was school--aaaaaand he's gone." She laughed to herself. "Boys."

"Hi Mama!" Seven-year-old Evie gleefully took Bran's place in Aelin's arms, snuggling herself up close against her mother.

"Hi, lovey," Aelin beamed, holding her younger daughter close. "How was your school day?"

"Good!" Evie's grin was a perfect replica of her mother's. "I got a gold star on my spellin' test, an' I pushed Timmy off the monkey bars!"

Aelin's shoulders shook with mirth. "Evalin, honey, haven't we talked about how you shouldn't push other kids on the playground?"

Evie shrugged. "He said Sana's bow was stupid."

"Hmm." Unable to resist her little mirror image, Aelin winked. "Well, I understand that, then. But next time he says something like that, you need to tell the teacher, okay?"

"Okay." Evie bobbed her curly blonde head. "Wanna see my gold star, Mama?"

"Of course I do!" Aelin let her small daughter lead her back out to the kitchen, where she found her eldest child sitting at the dining table, working on a set of math problems.

Evie tugged her past the table before she could stop and say hello. "C'mon, Mama!" Aelin followed her to the fridge, where her latest spelling test was stuck to the door with magnets. "Look!" Evie pointed proudly to the gold star adorning the top of the page.

"Well done, lovey!" Aelin gave her a high five. "You're way better at spelling than I ever was."

"Really?"

"Yep." She nodded. "Don't tell anyone, but I couldn't spell 'banana' the right way until I was Lana's age."

"And you still can't," Rowan teased, coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, just below her ear. "Hi, my love."

"Hi." She turned to face him and pressed her lips to his, earning a full set of disgusted noises from the children.

"Ugh, you guys! Gross!" Lana protested, throwing an eraser at Rowan's back. The oldest of the Whitethorn children, she was almost thirteen and growing up far too fast for Aelin and Rowan's liking.

"Just give it a few more years," Aelin whispered into Rowan's ear.

It was her husband's turn to shudder. "Don't remind me," he groaned.

She chuckled. "I won't. Not when you're cooking dinner, at least." Leaving one last kiss on the edge of his jaw, she went back into the dining room and sat down next to her oldest. "Hey, Lana."

"Hi, Mom." Lana was busy with her math homework, pencil scratching against the paper as she worked through a problem. Aelin could tell from the set of her daughter's jaw that she was stuck, so she waited quietly until Lana groaned and tossed her pencil down on the tabletop.

"This is stupid," she grumbled, scowling. "Stupid math. Why can't they just give us equations instead of stupid word problems?"

Aelin retrieved the pencil and placed it next to Lana's math book. "How far did you get?"

Grudgingly, Lana turned her paper so Aelin could see. "I literally don't even know." She pointed to the problem in the book. "I kinda get what it wants me to solve for, but it's not helpful at all with how to solve it."

"That's why it's called a problem, sweetheart." Aelin read the problem over a few times and looked over her daughter's work. "You've got it just about halfway solved, actually."

"No I don't! There's three variables, I only found one!" Lana was on the verge of wailing.

Aelin kept her voice calm. "Do you know how to use a system of equations?"

Slowly, Lana nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, good. Here." Aelin rewrote the two equations Lana had found using the variable she'd solved for. "Now can you substitute so there's only one variable?"

"Um..." Lana took the pencil back and scribbled. "Yeah! I can." As she grasped the problem, she wrote faster, until she'd solved for the second variable, plugged it into one of the equations, and found the third. "I did it!"

Aelin checked the math and nodded. "You did it!"

Unexpectedly, Lana got up and squished her mother into a hug that was all lanky limbs. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Aelin smoothed Lana's messy, light blonde hair and let her go put her math book away, homework done for the night. She went back into the kitchen and took the stack of plates from Rowan's hands. "Let me."

He flashed her a grateful look. "Thanks, babe."

"Ewwwww," Lana grumbled, wrinkling her nose as she passed by.

"There's our almost teen," Rowan chuckled, fondly.

Aelin came over to get silverware. "Stop saying that, it makes me feel old as hell." She pressed her fingertips to his lips before he could make a smart remark about how she was old. "I know, I'm not twenty-two anymore, but neither are you, my love." She smirked. "You've always been old."

"Rude!" Checking to make sure the kids were far out of eyeshot, he flicked the dish towel at her, swiping it across her ass.

She flashed him a wicked grin. "Careful with that, old man. That's how we found ourselves in this situation in the first place."

His face flushed a delightful shade of scarlet and he coughed, choking on whatever he'd been about to say. "I love you so much," he wheezed, regaining his breath.

"I love you more." Silverware set, she slipped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. "I know we're already married, Ro, but I would marry you again in a heartbeat."

His deep green eyes went soft. "I'd marry you again every day, Fireheart."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[leiawritesstories]

Rowaelin Month 2023

Day 1, Song Fic: Stick Season (Part 1)

Day 2, Accidents Happen: So Soon

Day 4, Friends Don't Do This: Just "Friends"

Day 5, A Bad Date: Kiss Me Again

Day 6, Forced Proximity: I'll Take Care Of You (NSFW)

Day 7, Vacation/Outdoors: Stick Season (Part 2)

Day 8, Single Parents: stay a while, it's safe here

Day 10, Guest Stars with Chemistry: It Happened Off-Camera

Day 13: Babies/Kids/Next Gen: Mama's Little Pirate

Day 16, Mob AU: Until Proven Guilty--March, Part II

Day 19, Kids Hear the Tattoo Stories: A Memory Of Your Love

Day 20, Drunken Antics: Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Day 21, Scars: In Dreams

Day 24, How Rowan Knew "Fireheart": A Visit to Orynth

Day 25, Arranged Marriage: To Honor And Cherish

Day 28, Wartime Sweethearts AU: 1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Day 30, Missing/Alternate Canon Scene: Varese, Reimagined

[leiawritesstories]

Mama's Little Pirate

Rowaelin Month, Day 13: Babies/Kids/Next Gen

a Fly The Black Flag outtake ;)) but you do NOT need to read FTBF before this

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: few swear words, otherwise none hehe

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

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

The salty evening breeze had never felt so good against Aelin’s skin as it did that evening when she trudged up the sandy stretch of beach towards the faint smudge of a building on the horizon. Gently, the light wind lifted the strands of hair that were plastered to her neck and cheeks, nudging them away from her skin. Beneath her weathered boots, the ground changed from shifting sand to dark, rich soil and gravel, and she released a bone-deep sigh of relief. Solid ground still wavered beneath her feet, and she had to force herself to stay upright. 

She hadn’t battled her way to being the most notorious pirate on the ocean just for her damn sea legs to betray her. 

Swift as the wind, and just as in tune with her movements, Rowan caught her from behind, supporting her. “Don’t go giving out on me just yet, Fireheart,” he teased, a low, wicked glint sparking in his eyes. “We haven’t even made it home yet.” 

“Ass.” She swatted his muscled shoulder playfully. “And who said anything about we making it home? I thought you were all excited to scare the living shit out of Lorcan and Ells.” 

“Oh, I am.” His smirk was nothing short of roguish. “But I can’t let my wife collapse on the side of the shitty road before we can set that plan into motion.” 

“Such a gentleman.” Regaining her balance, she turned around, rose onto her tiptoes, and stole a kiss that was altogether too short. 

He rested his forehead against hers after breaking the kiss. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” 

“Indeed you will.”

With a final kiss, Rowan veered off into the forest, heading for the hunting trails where his horse was tethered. If all went according to the plan, he’d come home after Aelin and the others had finished dinner and make a “surprise” entrance. 

Aelin took a moment to shake out her complaining limbs before she headed towards the forest. One desire remained at the front of her mind: get back to her home and her daughter before night fully set, otherwise her beloved, if far too fussy, friends would send out a search party. 

“Hey, Cap.” Speaking of those friends…

“Ells.” Aelin turned to find Elide sitting astride her horse on the side of the road. Aelin’s own stallion was next to Elide’s mare. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Elide rolled her eyes. “Figured you’d want to get home before dinner gets cold.” 

“Aren’t you always so observant,” Aelin teased. She tossed her seabag into the saddlebag and swung herself up onto the sleek gray stallion, running an affectionate hand along his neck. “Thanks, Ells.” 

“Anytime.” Her first mate saluted, wheeled her mare around, and nudged her into an easy canter. “I’ll beat you home by five minutes, Cap!” 

“We’ll see about that!” Aelin crowed, leaning low and nudging her stallion into a canter. “Fly, boy!” 

Elide did beat Aelin back to the Keep, and the shorter woman was grinning widely when Aelin crossed the courtyard after leaving her horse in the stables and slapped two silvers into her hand. 

“All right, you win,” she fake-grumbled. “Damn pirates, taking all my money.” 

“As if you weren’t far, far worse,” Elide snorted. “And speaking of pirates, where–”

“MAMA!” The childish shriek was followed immediately by a rapid patter of small footsteps, and a small blonde blur came whizzing across the courtyard into Aelin’s open arms. 

Beaming, Aelin squeezed her seven-year-old daughter tightly. “Hi, lovey,” she murmured. 

“I miss you, Mama.” Evie whispered. Her big green eyes filled with irresistible tears. “You were gone so long!” 

“Oh, my Evalin,” Aelin breathed, tears inadvertently springing to her eyes, “I’ll always come home to you.” She kissed her daughter’s messy blonde curls. “You know that, right?” 

Evie nodded. “Still miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” Aelin cupped Evie’s rosy little face. “So, so much.” 

“Good to see you still alive, Captain,” drawled another voice from behind her. 

Without turning around, Aelin snorted dryly. “Salvaterre, the day you say that without irony is the day cows fu–er, fly.”

Lorcan smothered a laugh. “And you wonder where your child gets it from.” 

“I don’t, actually.” She turned the full force of her charming smile onto the hulking, perpetually scowly pirate. “She gets it from your sons.” 

He cracked a smirk. “Touché.” 

Aelin allowed Lorcan to drape his arm across her shoulders for a few seconds–his version of an affectionate hug. “Before you ask, the Doranelle is just fine. She and the Terrasen should be back in no more than three months.” 

“Better be bringing rum,” Lorcan grumbled. 

She snickered. “What if I told Ro that we were oversupplied here and didn’t need any more?” 

He grunted something too crude for children’s ears. “You’re the worst, Galathynius.” 

“Why thank you,” she crooned. “Don’t worry, Scowly, there’ll be plenty of rum.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “If you’re really lucky, it won’t even have been purchased.” 

Evie tugged at Aelin’s sleeve. “Dinner, Mama!” 

“That’s right, lovey!” Aelin scooped her daughter up and settled her on her shoulders. “We can’t go and forget the most important part of the day!” She strode into the brick-and-stone manor that sat at the center of the Iron Isles Pirates’ Keep. 

The compound comprised the manor, stables, a handful of smaller houses for other pirates, several different training buildings, and a number of storehouses built into different parts of the hill, some of them underground. Built primarily from the same gray stone that most of the Isles were made of, the fortress both blended into the landscape and loomed over it, a mark of the pirates’ protection and of their merciless reputation. 

Since the first building had been completed, six years ago now, the crews of the Terrasen and the Doranelle, as well as their smaller companion ships, had called the place home. 

After dinner was finished, Aelin was lounging in a comfortable armchair with a book and a drink, paying more attention to the children running around the large but homey living room. Evie had received a wooden toy sword from Uncle Scowly for her birthday, and she was barely ever seen without it dangling at her side. 

Lorcan was even teaching her how to wield it. 

Aelin taught her, too, when she was able to snatch a few moments to spend with her daughter rather than dealing with the bullshit that the unruly pirates were always throwing at her. 

Evie was play-fighting with Cal and Daric, Elide and Lorcan’s twin boys, all three of the children screeching and yelling as they pretended to beat the hell out of the Royal Navy. 

“I don’t wanna be the Navy!” Daric whined, stamping his small foot in anger. “You made me be them last time!” 

“Shut up!” Evie retorted, sticking her tongue out. “Last time, you made me be the prisoner!” 

“So?”

“So this is fair!” She scowled–an expression inherited purely from her father–when Daric tried to push back on her argument. “If you don’t like it, you can quit. Like a…” She fumbled for an appropriate term. “Like–like a pussy!” 

“Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius!” Aelin exclaimed, dropping her book in utter shock. “That was a very, very naughty word!” She folded her arms across her chest, firmly refusing to meet either Elide’s or Lorcan’s badly hidden smirks lest she explode into laughter. “Come here, Evie.” 

Flushing, Evie slowly approached her mother, sword dragging on the wooden floor. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she mumbled. 

Aelin forced sternness onto her face. “Evie, lovey, do you remember what Mama told you about naughty words?” 

“Only say it when I know what it means,” Evie said, quietly. 

“That’s right.” Aelin’s demeanor softened. She knelt down and wrapped her daughter’s hands in her own. “Uncle Lorcan and Uncle Fen like to say words they shouldn’t say in front of you and your cousins, and that means that you have to make them shut up.” 

Evie giggled and sniffled all at once. “I can tell them to shut up?”

“That’s right.” Aelin kissed Evie’s forehead. “So tell me, little love, which one of your foul-mouthed uncles said that word around you and your cousins.” 

“Um…” The little pirate girl hesitated. “It-it was…” She trailed off.

“Do you need to whisper?” Aelin asked softly. Sometimes, letting Evie whisper into her ear was better than having her say it out loud. 

Evie shook her head. “It was…it was Dad.” 

Aelin’s gasp of absolute shock was echoed by Rowan’s characteristic, I’ve-held-it-in-for-too- damn-long snort. “That’s my girl!” he crowed, stepping into the living room from where he’d been hiding in the hall.

Elide gasped. Lorcan whipped his head to the doorway. Aelin beamed–the “surprise” had gone perfectly. 

Shock, delight, and joy bloomed across Evie’s face. “Dad!” she screeched, throwing her toy sword to the floor and sprinting to her father, who swung her up into his arms, beaming. 

“Hi, little love.” Rowan hugged Evie fiercely. “Is it true that you called your cousin a naughty word? One that you heard me say?” 

She nodded, earnestly. “Mhmm. Daric was being a pu–” 

“Ah-ah, nope, shhhhhhh.” Rowan pressed his forefinger over his daughter’s lips. “What did Mama just say about not using a word unless you know what it means?” 

Evie sighed. “Okay, Dad.” 

“That’s my girl.” He smacked a theatrical kiss onto her cheek. “Want to show me what you’ve been learning with your sword, Evie girl?” She exclaimed in agreement and he set her down, then made his way over to his wife. 

Aelin stepped easily into his embrace. “Captain,” she murmured, laughter dancing in her bright eyes. 

“Captain,” he murmured back. He kissed her softly, snatching a quiet moment with her before their daughter pulled on both of her parents’ sleeves, demanding that they watch her “sword fightin’.” 

It was precisely the life Aelin had only ever dreamt of.

~~~