#rowaelin month 2023

[leiawritesstories]

Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

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[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 30

~ A Missing or Alternate Scene from Canon ~

Well... Let me just say I took some liberties with canon this time. I started with the Bite Scene from Heir of Fire and I went from there. This is a little 'what if', if you will. What if the mating bond snapped when Rowan bit Celaena's neck and things went from there? Italic section at the top taken from Heir of Fire and then we get to the rest.

CW: Smut

~~~~~

Faster than lightning, his hand shot out and she gagged, jolting as he grabbed her tongue between his fingers. She bit down, hard, but he didn’t let go. “Say that again,” he purred.

She choked as he kept pinching her tongue, and she went for his daggers, simultaneously slamming her knee up between his legs, but he shoved his body against hers, a wall of hard muscle and several hundred years of lethal training trapping her against a tree. She was a joke by comparison—a joke—and her tongue—

He released her tongue, and she gasped for breath. She swore at him, a filthy, foul name, and spat at his feet. And that’s when he bit her.

She cried out as those canines pierced the spot between her neck and shoulder, a primal act of aggression—­the bite so strong and claiming that she was too stunned to move. He had her pinned against the tree and clamped down harder, his canines digging deep, her blood spilling onto her shirt. Pinned, like some weakling. But that was what she’d become, ­wasn’t it? Useless, pathetic.

She growled, more animal than sentient being. And shoved.

Rowan staggered back a step, teeth ripping her skin as she struck his chest. She didn’t feel the pain, didn’t care about the blood or the flash of light.

No, she wanted to rip his throat out—­rip it out with the elongated canines she bared at him as she finished shifting and roared.

Rowan grinned. “There you are.” Blood—­her blood—­was on his teeth, on his mouth and chin. And those dead eyes glowed as he spat her blood onto the earth. She probably tasted like a sewer to him.

There was a shrieking in her ears, and Celaena lunged at him. Lunged, and then stopped as she took in the world with stunning clarity, smelled it and tasted it and breathed it like the finest wine. Gods, this place, this kingdom smelled divine, smelled like—

She had shifted.

She panted, even though her lungs ­were telling her she was no longer winded and did not need as many breaths in this body. There was a tickling at her neck—­her skin slowly beginning to stitch itself together. She was a faster healer in this form. Because of the magic... Breathe. Breathe.

But there it was, rising up, wildfire crackling in her veins, in her fingertips, the forest around them so much kindling, and then—

She shoved back. Took the fear and used it like a battering ram inside herself, against the power, shoving it down, down.

Rowan prowled closer. “Let it out. Don’t fight it.”

A pulse beat against her, nipping, smelling of snow and pine. Rowan’s power, taunting hers. Not like her fire, but a gift of ice and wind. A freezing zap at her elbow had her falling back against the tree. The magic bit her cheek now. Magic—­attacking her.

Don’t fight it?

His power nipped at her again and Celaena readied to hurl insults at him to make him stop. Didn’t he understand the danger he was in? Didn’t he know the monster that was raging just below the surface? The power, the inferno that had always rage inside her—that was given a true life in her fae form. This fire would consume and then destroy everything in sight. That would include the male who watched her, disappoint rife in his every feature. Her untamed wildfire might be enough to kill him. 

That thought felt like a blow to her gut, enough that the inferno quieted, just for a moment. It gave her enough clarity to look at Rowan, to weather the disdain that emanated from him. And then, like a string had been pulled taut between them Celaena felt it. Something she had only heard stories of and never thought she’d have the privilege of experiencing herself.

Mate.

Rowan was her mate.

Celeana saw the moment he realised it too. For a moment his face contorted in confusion and then shock overtook everything else. 

Her back was against the tree a moment later, once again his hard body had her trapped. Rowan had lost control once more, this time there was a feral glint in his eye. His dominance settled her fires, like her power was curious as to what would happen next. He inhaled, right below her ear, and his thumb dragged over where he’d bit her and Celaena braced for the pain. It never came, the touch was gentle and compared to everything else about him—the harshness of his face and the overbearing strength of his body—that caress was enough to make her moan. 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, like he was disgusted and appalled that she would make such a sound, that he would be the one to cause it. But damn him to Hellas’ realm she was intoxicated by him. The awakening of the bond had intrinsically altered something within her. Celeana didn’t understand what was going on but she knew she was not to blame. There was a need to take, a need to claim. Her body shuddered with the unrelenting force of it all. A want was building within her, a fire flowing through her veins that had nothing to do with the magic she was born with. Rowan’s scent of pine and snow surrounded her, and she could feel his magic answering the intensifying call of hers. 

Celaena wanted to shift and retreat back into her human form to lessen the demands of her fae body. All that halted when a harsh snarl broke the quiet of the forest. 

“Don’t you dare.”

Celaena lifted her chin in defiance of Rowan’s command. His sneer remained and she could still see her blood on his teeth, the lines of his tattoo contorting. Rowan’s tongue flicked over one of his sharp canines tasting her again. To her pure shock his eyes rolled back and he pressed into her a little more. Celeana strained against the weight of his body, trying to get enough advantage. The only thing she succeeded in doing was closing the remaining inconsiderable distance between them. She could feel every inch of him, especially the impressive and demanding hardness of his cock. 

They both went still, eyes locked in a silent battle. It was like Rowan was daring her to acknowledge the very obvious reaction he was having to the sudden circumstances they found themselves in. It gave her some comfort to know it was not just her being overwhelmed by instincts. Then Celaena gave him a feline smirk. 

“My, my, Rowan. All riled up after one little bite.”

“You know what we are.” Rowan’s voice was little more than a growl.

“I want to hear you say it,” Celaena said, mustering all the arrogance she could.

Rowan lent in closer. “We are mates.”

“I am your mate,” Celaena whispered in response, the words taking hold in her chest. 

To hear him say it was the final affirmation and she could feel the bond between them go taut. And then something snapped and Celaena was pulling his face to her, their lips meeting. 

It took a thunderous heartbeat for Rowan to react, but when it did it had embers fluttering from her. The kiss was demanding, they fought for dominance but neither could claim it. Rowan’s tongue glided into her mouth and Celaena nipped at his bottom lip with her newly reclaimed canines. The kiss was feral and ruthless. She hated him, he hated her. This was not born out of love and kindness, just a frenzied need that came deep from within them both. That did nothing to quell the want that was surging through her veins. Stuck between his hard body and the tree Celaena could feel everything. The length of him pressed into her core, flooding her body with heat. 

Even through all the layers of clothing we could feel how large he was. The thought of him being inside her made her whimper, Rowan swallowing the sound as his tongue flicked at the roof of her mouth. 

“More,” Celaena demanded. “Give me more.”

“This means nothing,” Rowan replied, but she could read what was unsaid. 

You mean nothing. 

“I don’t care,” Celaena hissed as her fingers searched for bare skin at the collar of his tunic. She needed to feel more of him. 

Rowan drew back, his eyes conveying every bitter sentiment that had been accumulating since the moment they met. “Neither do I.”

His body was gone and for a devastating moment Celana thought he was denying her. But he had only backed off to allow him the space to remove his clothes, shedding his outer layers and then the weapons that were hidden beneath. He was far more efficient than she was, Celaena was only at her undershirt and working on the laces of her pants when Rowan hauled her back to him. He didn’t kiss her, he just had one arm wrapped around her waist pressing her into his bare chest, the hand of the other dragged over her body. 

Her magic sparked at his touch, she could feel the flames on her fingers. Ice cold wind danced between the fire on her hands, beckoning to her magic in a way she had never felt before. It was playful, a tendency she would never have expected from the stoic male in front of her. 

“This means nothing,” Rowan said again. 

Celaena rolled her eyes. “You mentioned that.”

He bared his teeth and lent in closer, and the strength of the eager hope Celaena had that he would kiss her again was embarrassing.

Rowan’s eyes ran over her, and when he met her gaze they had only darkened. “This is the mating frenzy, nothing more. We’ll both be useless if we don’t give into it.”

His hand was on her ribs and Celeana arched to encourage him to take more. “Whatever you say.”

Rowan took the invitation and his hand covered her breast, growling as Celaena moaned. Then he had her legs out from under her and was laying her body on the grass. It was then Celaena noticed he still had his pants on—the urgency to be near overwhelming enough that he forgot his initial task. Rowan’s silver hair fell around them as he braced himself over her, the rest of the world fading away to nothing. There was only the male in front of her, the touch of his hands and the lingering taste of him on her tongue. And Celaena wanted more.

She kissed him again, the unsaid demand for him to get on with it expressed in the way she sucked his tongue into her mouth. A sound of pleasure rumbled from deep within Rowan’s chest, igniting her fires further. The grass crackled as it dried, the scent of smoke filling her nose. Celaena’s magic sensed Rowan’s stirring and she felt, rather than saw, as he sealed them under a hard wall of air. Lines of flame ran along it, inspecting for weaknesses, but found none. Nothing would get past the defences of the Prince. He had made sure that her cataclysmic power would not ruin the forest around them.

Before Celaena could drown in the thoughts of her own volatile nature, she was distracted by Rowan’s hand at the waistband of her pants and the way he tore through the remaining laces. Then his fingers were on her skin, slipping beneath her clothes and to her entrance. Her hips bucked at the touch and Rowan groaned as he felt the evidence of her desire. 

Rowan did it again, this time dragging his fingers over the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. That touch undid her, the restraint on her powers failing and she burst into flames—her clothing turning to nothing more than ash. 

There was a gut wrenching moment of fear when she thought her flames would hurt Rowan. She may hate him, but he did not deserve the wrath of her flames. Celaena opened her eyes, terrified of what she might find. Rowan was braced above her, something akin to wonder in his eyes, the harsh angles of his face lit by her firelight. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

That word kindled something in her dead heart, calling to the echoes of her pride. Stretching her arms up Celaena arched her back, the invitation clear. Ice cold lips lowered to her breast, taking the peak of it deep within his mouth. Rowan worshipped her, nipping and sucking until she was a writhing, flaming mess under his ministrations. Her core pulsed with need and she threw a leg over his hip, pulling their bodies closer. 

Rowan’s body surrendered, and they moved together until it wasn’t. He was gone and the loss of him was an unwanted shock. Pushing herself to her elbows Celaena saw that he was ridding himself of pants.

“Oh, Gods,” she whispered when Rowan was utterly bare.

This male was a warrior and every inch of him upheld that fact. From his broad shoulders, to the defined muscles of his stomach, and his strong thighs. It was the straining hardness of his cock that held her attention, it flooded her body with molten want. She needed him inside her, now. 

They moved in sync, Celaena lying back and Rowan braced himself over her again. Their eyes locked, words were beyond both of them as he lowered his hips, the head of him grazing over her entrance. The primal need for him reached its breaking point, and Celana was willing to risk the humiliation of begging for him. She was truly Mala blessed because there was no need to, in one powerful stroke Rowan sheathed himself inside her. 

Celaena might have screamed in pleasure and that first decadent feeling of him inside, she couldn’t be sure because all other sense was lost to her. There was only her and Rowan, and this powerful sealing between them. Nothing would be the same after this world altering moment. 

Her nails dragging down Rowan’s back was the indication he needed to start moving. Celaena expected him to be rough, to drive into her with a sharp ruthlessness. He did not, each stroke was thorough enough to have her trembling. Precise in a way that Celaena knew that he wielded skills beyond blades. Rowan was being gentle, the underlying tenderness breathtaking in the worst possible way. Celeana didn’t want this from him, it felt close too close to pity for her liking. This male never had a kindness of any nature to give to her. There was no reason for him to start now. 

Celaena was about to take matters in her own hands when Rowan’s breath brushed against the skin of her neck, his lips the lightest of touches. Then he moved down, right over where he had bit her. The wound was long healed, but his tongue darted out over where his teeth had pierced her skin. Unbidden, her inner walls tightened around him, making Rowan shudder, his rhythm faltering. All Celaena’s focus went to the ministrations of his mouth. His teeth grazed, just shy of hurting and she moaned. He did that a few times, anticipation and desire building. And then he bit her. 

The act so primal and claiming that release barreled through her, unexpected and enough to leave her reeling. Rowan drew out her pleasure, his hips undulating and steady. Celaena’s magic unleashed, flames and embers thriving as Rowan’s winds encouraged them. This miles beyond anything that she had felt with Chaol. Was pure, unadulterated pleasure, and Celeana knew nothing would compare. For the rest of her miserable life nothing and no one would compare to this.

Rowan was still moving, unchanged from his infuriating accuracy. Her body begged for more—for the true claiming. When her orgasm passed and she regained strength to her limbs Celeana planted a foot on the forest flaw and flipped them. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him so deep inside her.

When she opened her eyes she saw mild surprise on Rowan’s face at the change of position. But not displeased, not at all. Celaena rolled her hips, hard and fast, and that had Rowan’s hands clamping on her waist. She did it again, the heart of her flames turning blue as she sighed at the feeling of being so full. So quickly, she could feel herself cresting towards release again. Beneath her Rowan’s eyes were closed, his hips flexing in time with the motion of hers. His teeth caught his bottom lip, there was a deep, rumbling moan coming from him. The truth of how much he was enjoying this was evident from the look of sheer pleasure on his face.

Celaena gave a dark laugh. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much.”

“Shut your mouth,” Rowan said, his eyes still closed.

The petulance in Rowan’s tone made her laugh again, only to be cut short but a hard thrust. Celaena tipped her head back at the sensation, her nails digging into his chest. He groaned, his movements gaining some urgency. Now she was not only chasing her pleasure, but his as well. Celaena wanted to see this conceited male come undone, all by her doing. 

Another intense thrust had her falling forward, hands landing either side of Rowan’s head to stop her from falling on him completely. This angle let her grind on him in a new delicious angle and she knew now they wouldn’t last much longer.

Before Celaena could stop him, Rowan’s hands ran over her back, her breath catching as he felt the ridges and divots on her skin. He let out a vicious snarl enough to rattle her bones. Then so conflicting to that feral viciousness, a hand cradled the back of her neck and brought her down for a brutal kiss. This time Rowan nipped at her lip, his sharp teeth were just shy of piercing her skin. 

He was close, she could feel it.

“Aelin,” Rowan all but breathed, like a whisper on an ice coated wind. 

To hear her true name pulled as the longing of her restless soul. He had been the first to call her by her true name in many years. It was a summoning, a beckoning to life where she no longer had to hide. For the first time in a long time Celeana felt the glimmer of home. Her lips kissed where his shoulder and neck met, tracing lines with her tongue. She would feel Rowan’s ragged breathing, each breath shorter as he approached his release. When Celaena felt her own there for the taking, she bit down, her sharp teeth breaking skin and blood filled her mouth. He tasted wind-kissed and powerful, an answer to a question Celaena hadn’t known she was asking. Rowan roared as he came, ice and wind blasting and twining with fire. Celaena’s own release followed, the joining of their magic heightening the intensity. There was a staggering thrill in being truly unleashed—not having to temper what she was. And then to have someone who met her blow for blow… it was earth shattering. 

Rowan was the first to recover, sitting up regardless of the way Celaena was still slumped on his chest. He didn’t make any attempt to move her, just waited until she was ready. Celaena didn’t want to, because once she did the reality of what they were and what they’d done would be inescapable. In the end it was the closeness of Rowan’s body that drove her to slip off his lap. The fact they were mates didn’t change a thing emotionally between them. His closeness brought her no comfort, not when they hated each other. 

The loss of him inside her was nearly devastating. Celaena braced herself for pain and let the shift take over her. It was easier to contend with everything in her human body. Her senses were dulled and the call to Rowan was weaker. Free of the weight of her body Rowan was getting dressed, his back to her. That was when Celaena realised she had nothing to wear. She had burnt her clothes, she didn’t even have her flames to cloak herself in. Celaena pulled her knees up to her chest, suddenly so cold. 

There was a muffled thump, and she startled at the pile of grey cloth that had landed beside her. 

“That won’t be happening again,” muttered gruffly, shrugging on his jacket. Celaena could see the weapons he’d donned underneath. His chest was bare and the fastenings of his pants were ruined. Rowan dangerously uncovered and she could stop the way her eyes roved over him.

Already Celaena’s blood was heating, even in her human form it was begging for more. What she knew of mating bonds was limited, but even then she was familiar with what was often referred to as the frenzy that took place between mates. She was gaining a deeper understanding of it with each second longer she spent in Rowan’s presence. 

Rowan sniffed, his body going preternaturally still. Celaena ignored him, standing and putting on the tunic he had so graciously offered. 

“Understood.”

Out of her peripherals she was a flash of light, telling her Rowan had shifted and fled, leaving her to walk back to Mistward on her own. The solitude would give her time to think.  Being mates won’t change her plans. Celaena had made a promise to Nehemia and she would not let her unwilling attachment to the bastard of a male set to train her stop her. This changed nothing, she would complete her task the same way she had been doing everything for many years now, the way she was destined to be. Alone. 

~~~~~

So, in my head there may or may not be a whole It Takes Two-esque canon au that spawned and it starts right here haha...

@rowaelinscourt

[highqueenofelfhame]

a Hits Different song fic (one shot) @rowaelinscourt

due to unforeseen circumstances last week (like really terrible ones pls don’t be mad at me i have never had that much anxiety in my life) i didn’t get to finish this but here’s a snippet and eventually i’ll get around to finishing it and posting it 💚

“The wedding is off.” Aelin announced, lacing her fingers atop the table and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. It was the first time she had said it out loud.

On the Uber ride to the bar she had considered calling to cancel the venue, but a violent wave of nausea kept her from following through. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t hit any of the buttons and her screen was little more than a single, blurry, blob of light in her palm. They wouldn’t be getting the deposit back, anyway. Her friends could help her with the gritty parts she couldn’t stomach tomorrow.

“What?” Everyone blurted in unison, each of their expressions mirroring the horror she felt inside. It didn’t make sense to Aelin, either. There was no timeline or alternate reality where she didn’t end up with Rowan. Yet here she was.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she slurred, words tangling together as she clambered from the booth. It took all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other and make it to the bar without tripping over her own two feet.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Scaling in the Moonlight

Hello everyone!!! Long time no see!!! It's been eleven months!!!!! since I last wrote anything. I hated the fact that I missed last years rowaelin month and was determined to write something for this years rowaelin month (and a special thank you to @goddess-aelin for her lovely note saying she missed my work <3)

And thanks to the lovely people that run rowaelin month!!! you are all amazing!!! @rowaelinscourt

Apologies in advance if my writing and grammar and characterisation is a little rusty, like I said, it's been eleven months since I last wrote anything and I'm slowly getting through my ToG re-read (which has really opened my eyes to how traumatised Aelin is as a person/character).

Words: 800+. CW: none, I don't think.

Day 18- Aelin and Rowan's hawk form.

It was two AM and Aelin was out, wondering the dark city streets of Orynth, looking for the right building.

Instead of using the castle's obstacle course like most sane people would, Aelin decided that she needed to do this the way she was trained too—by scaling the side of buildings, using every muscle in her body to pull herself up to reach the top of the building, to run across the rooftops to get closer to her target.

She needed the reminder that she could—and that she hadn't lost her edge.

Although, she was sure she had lost it. She did still train, from magic to weapons to hand-to-hand combat, she did whichever she was in the mood for with what free time she had, but as Queen and mother to five children, she had no need to scale buildings and jump from rooftop to rooftop.

So she had decided, as she ate her dinner with her family, she was going to relive her past life; if only for a couple of hours.

Aelin walked through one more street before she found a good starting point—a shoe store that she did frequent with Rowan and their children. It was two storeys tall and she knew that no one occupied the apartment above the shop so no one would see her.

Hopefully no one would hear her either.

Stretching before climbing, Aelin told herself that it would be fine. She had given birth to five children, all without pain relieving herbs, she could—would—scale this building with ease.

Finding her footing was easy enough, so Aelin started her trek—and thankfully didn't fall off, although she did slid time a few times and had to grit her teeth to stop her cursing from echoing around town.

The burning in her muscles took her back to how she used to be, how she used to be able to demand any contract and fat coin purse she desired.

She didn't miss that life, not at all, but it was part of who she was and she was not ashamed of it.

Taking one last gulping breath, Aelin hoisted herself over the roofs ledge and let the accomplishment rush through her.

So determined she was in proving herself that she could still do this, she hadn't been aware that she had a follower.

A follower that now clicked his beak at her.

Aelin's head snapped upwards, taking in her mate's large hawk-form as he perched on the chimney.

“You were asleep when I left,” was all Aelin could think of to say.

Rowan clicked his beak again, as if to say And now I'm awake.

“Clearly,” Aelin said, “how'd I go from your end?”

She waited for him to shift back but he didn't. He wasn't mad at her, she knew that much, but she didn't want anyone to see her talking to her mate like this—it felt too intimate to be like this in public, but after two decades together, Aelin could converse with Rowan in his hawk form as easily as she could talk to him in his Fae form.

Rowan didn't say anything but flew to the building next to her. He clicked his beak. You can climb well enough, let's see how you can jump.

Aelin moved to the ledge, looking down to the ground, if she didn't make it, she wouldn't die, but she'd probably be bruised all over.

She looked at Rowan, who was waiting patiently. “Will you nurse me back to health if I fall?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at her husband, who rolled his eyes.

“That better be a yes,” she said and moved back to take a running jump.

Gods, if she fell, she'd never get over the embarrassment.

Aelin ran and jumped—and just made it. She hit her chin hard enough that when she made it over the ledge of the building, she laid down and stared at the open night sky.

A flash of light brighter than the moon came and went, and then there was Rowan, taking her in.

“Fireheart,” he said, his voice deep and concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Aelin said, her chin sore but she would live. She eyed her mate up and down, however, and said, “But I would still appreciate being nursed back to health—especially if you take your shirt off.”

Rowan rolled his eyes again, but obliged her, his shirt coming off in one easy movement that had her contemplate making a sixth baby.

“Where does it hurt, milady?” her king-consort asked, his rough fingers moving across her collarbone.

“Here,” she said, pointing to her chin, and soon she was better, especially as she chased Rowan around in his hawk form, easily jumping from roof to roof as the hours went by.

[rowaelinscourt]

Rowaelin Month: PROMPT LIST

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

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

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

START DATE: September 1st

Green filled boxes denote CANON SPECIFIC PROMPTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rowaelin Month Prompt List

September 1: Song Fic

September 2: Accidents Happen

September 3: Rowaelin as teens

September 4: "Friends don't do this"

September 5: A Bad Date

September 6: Forced Proximity

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

September 8: Single Parents

September 9: Renaissance Fair

September 10: Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry

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

September 12: Meet Cute / Meet Ugly

September 13: Babies / Kids / Next Gen

September 14: An Argument/ Making up After an Argument

September 15: Meeting the Parents

September 16: Mob AU

September 17: Mating Ceremony

September 18: Aelin with hawk Rowan

September 19: Telling Their Children about Their Tattoos

September 20: Drunken Antics

September 21: Scars

September 22: Magic/Shifting Lessons with the Children

September 23: Domestic Fluff

September 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"

September 25: Arranged Marriage

September 26: Taking care of the littles solo

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

September 28: Wartime Sweethearts

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

September 30: A Missing or Alternate Scene from Canon

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

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

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

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

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which portraits?”

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

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

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

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

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

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

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to their beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They learned how to adapt.

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

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

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

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

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

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

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

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an old soul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was.

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

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you give him too much credit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The European one,” she elaborated.

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

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

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

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

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

 “Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

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

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day One: Song Fic @rowaelinscourt

Back by no one’s demands but my own: a part two and conclusion to “Annie” the song fic I wrote for last year.  This one does end happier, I pinky promise.  Inspired by Mat Kearney’s song “New York to California.”  If you’ve been around for a while, you know Mat is one of those artists that I adore and his music means so much to me.  I also just really wanted to conclude “Annie” and NYtCA just hits different…anyways, I hope you enjoy?  You technically don’t need to read Annie if you don’t want to.

Rowaelin Month 2023 Masterlist Main Masterlist Annie—Part One

Warnings: she’s a touch angsty, nothing worse than how I usually go.  ~3k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

New York to California

Before

She doesn’t know if it’s late or early when sleep takes her.  For weeks now she’s been trapped behind a gray haze.  It falls over her mind and tries to convince her that nothing really matters anymore.  It’s far too easy to fall victim to that mindset, and usually she does better at chasing the demons away.  Usually it’s easier.

So as she drifts off, she’s just glad for a taste of some relief from the day.  It’s been hard lately, too hard.  And she doesn’t know how she’ll break free from it.

Maybe, for that reason alone, it’s better that she falls asleep.  It can be the reprieve from her foster father and the ways the world has a way of crashing down around her.

The problem is, she forgets how easily the dreams find her.   They invade this quiet space she’s tried to carve out for herself so easily that sometimes she doubts her sanity.  Because the dreams are full of shadows and screams, pain and panic.  She wants to escape them.  More than anything if she could fade away into the gray haze of dawn and linger there—she would.

She’s in the middle of one of those terrors when a gentle hand glides down her cheek and she can hear his voice calling to her.

Fireheart.  Fireheart.

When her eyes open it’s to find him staring down at her, green eyes flickering with the light of the TV, his hoodie drenched with rain.  She can see the worry reflecting in his eyes as he brings his hand back to her cheek.  His thumb runs in soothing circles along her skin.

“I had one of those dreams again,” she whispers.  She doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to cause him more pain.  But it’s Rowan.  And he’s always been a part of her. “I thought I lost you.”

“It’s alright,” he says, easing onto the couch beside her. “Everything’s alright, I’m here.”

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, but she snuggles into his side nonetheless.  He smells like pine and rain and earth and it’s the most comforting thing she can imagine.  So she leans into him and wraps her arms tight around him so he won’t disappear on her again.

She knows they shouldn’t do this.  Knows he shouldn’t even be here.  If Arobynn finds out Rowan showed up at the house Aelin knows there will be hell to pay.  The only thing that gives her hope is that her foster father is gone on a work trip.  He won’t be back until Thursday.  But Aelin lives in a constant state of fear as her mind lingers on the “what-ifs” of it all.

“It’s alright, baby,” Rowan says.  He presses his lips into her forehead and pulls the fleece blanket over them.  “I’m right here with you.”

She lets his words wash over her and soothe her own worries.  He’s never steered her wrong before, never left her unless he had to.  And even than he lingers still.  Because that Rowan, her Rowan, can temper any storm raging in her mind.

As he holds her close, she can make out the scent of cheap beer and cigarettes.  She knows he was singing at the bar again tonight, trying to earn some cash for the two of them to finally breakaway from this damned town.

“Don’t leave,” she says, slurred with sleep and exhaustion. His warmth is all she needs to drift back off to sleep, missing what he whispers to her next.

…

After

The coffee shop is the same as it always is: loud and hot. 

No matter when Aelin comes, there is always line out the door and every table is occupied by no one that actually has to be there.  She has decided it is a ruse designed by society in general to make coffee shops more appealing.  Supposedly they can offer you a sense of peace and comfort and delude you into thinking that you’re right where you belong—mixed up in a mess of people just as desperate for connection as you.

So yes, the coffee shop is always full.  Single patrons take up tables for just themselves and their selfies and little cookies that they won’t actually eat.  And straw liners are somehow strewn about the floor even though straws have been banned in the city for almost a year now.  And somehow the heater is always going even in the middle of summer but no one ever comments because it is a coffee shop so therefore everything is perfect.

But it’s not.  Everything is so far from perfect that Aelin has more than once found herself stumbling through life.  She’s lost in a world that has passed her by all because her foster father beat her down.  All because she stayed behind and let the one good thing in her life leave.

She doesn’t blame him, of course.  She can’t.  He was always too good for this place anyways.  He always had a way about him that said he wouldn’t step back from a fight.

It’s what she loves most about him.

Because of course she still loves him.

Rowan Whitethorn was, and still is, the best thing to ever happen to her.  From the time they were kinds to the inevitable night that finally pulled them apart—Rowan had been all she ever needed.

He left the city the second he could after his music managed to get him free.  He’d tried to take her with him, tried to say that he’d take care of her and that everything would be alright with just the two of them.

But Aelin knew then that it wasn’t that simple.  It never would be.

Except now, Arobynn is dead.  Dead and no longer tormenting her daily.  Instead, he’s just another terror in her dreams.

They’ve gotten better though, the nightmares.  They don’t come every night and even when they do, it’s easier to chase them away now.  Because she’s free.

And sometimes, if she’s lucky, Rowan will be there.  He’s always had a way of climbing into her dreams and staying right where he’s needed.  Even though he’s not physically here he’s still the greatest source of comfort to her.

She tries to shake the thoughts of him away.  They won’t do her any good.  No matter how badly she wishes they could, that he was there with her.  Instead, any and all thoughts of him haunt her and remind her of what could have been.

So she opens her laptop, navigating to the article she’s supposed to be editing. 

Somewhere along the way, she managed to pave a small road for herself.  She was even the lead editor on this new addition of Kingsflame, an up and coming magazine.  It took her a while to find her way here, to find something she liked and was just for her.  But she was good at writing, she was good at picking up on details, she was good and weaving a story together.

Just not her own.

Aelin works for a little, trying to give all her attention to the document.  The intern that wrote it is promising and Aelin wants to make sure to nourish a love of writing for her.  Aelin knows first hand what just a taste of approval can do for someone and she wants the girl to grow in her love of words.  Writing is what saved Aelin herself after all.

Sitting back in her seat, Aelin sighs and sips at her coffee.  It’s something dark and bitter—not at all what she usually likes.  She prefers sweet and sugar and all the extra bits but the poor barista behind the counter looked one pumpkin spiced latte away from quitting so Aelin got a simple black coffee.  She added extra packets of sugar herself.  

It’s disgusting.

But she has to admit the caffeine is definitely going straight to her brain.

She takes another long sip when it happens.  The song on the radio changes and she hears a voice that has only been a part of her dreams.  It’s low with the barest hint of his accent.  He’s accompanied by a piano which is different—he’s always preferred the guitar, saying that he’ll leave the piano to her.

Only…she never got the chance to play with him.

And now he’s singing a ballad of love and hope over the speakers of her coffee shop.  And no one notices.  And no one realizes what it means to hear him now.

He’d always promised he’d find his way back to her.  She just thought it was going to be different.

…

Before

There’s a storm billowing through the trees and lashing the windows with rain.  The gray sky is endless as it grows darker with each passing second.  This isn’t any regular storm.  It’s been raging on for over an hour now, bringing in a few rounds of thunder and lightning with it. 

Aelin finds she doesn’t mind it.  Not at all.

Because beside her on the couch is Rowan.  He has an arm wrapped around her as he drifts in and out of sleep.  It’s been a long day of sneaking about, hiding, and worrying.  Now, they just have an hour.  One hour of just the two of them before she has to go back home.

“I miss you,” Rowan says, quiet. 

Aelin isn’t sure she’s heard him properly.  Or maybe he’s talking in his sleep, he does that sometimes.  She runs her fingers through his hair, brushing the silvery locks back from his forehead.

“What did you say?”

Rowan twists, his chin resting on her stomach.  Green eyes stare up at her, dark with longing.

“I miss you,” he repeats, just as quiet.

“I’m right here,” she says.  She doesn’t stop running her fingers through his hair, can’t stop more like it.  It’s grown longer recently and she loves it. 

He doesn’t say anything.  All he does is watch her.  A flash of lightning snaps from outside illuminates his face, turning the shadows beneath his eyes lighter for once.  They’re just kids but it feels like they’ve fought wars already.

Tightening his hold on her, Rowan lets out a small sigh.

“I know,” he says, “but it never feels close enough, does it?”

“You’re just talking,” she says with a low chuckle.  Sometimes, words take on more meaning.  Sometimes, words mean more than they usually do.  And sometimes words are promises that bind you to more than a moment.

He grunts. “No I’m not.”

Her heart thuds at his words, at the feel of him as he sits up slowly, still pressed close to her; only now they’re chest to chest.  He’s so much bigger than Aelin that his frame practically engulfs her.  His broad chest and thick arms are enough to keep her from fidgeting too much though.  Because where else would she rather be?

“No matter what happen, I’ll be here, you know?” he says.  It’s the closest they’ve gotten to talking about the Arobynn situation and how Aelin can’t leave.  No matter what hopes and dreams she might have and share with Rowan.

She’s trapped.

“Rowan,” Aelin begins, she can’t let him say things he doesn’t mean or make promises he can’t keep.

“I’ll never be far enough away that I can’t find you again,” he says.  One finger curls beneath her chin, causing her to look up. “I’d crawl back to you if I had to.”

“I guess I could get used to you being on your knees for me,” she replies.  She wants to ease the moment, to find some levity that doesn’t make her feel like her heart is about be cut open and left to bleed out.

Rowan leans forward until his nose touches hers, until they’re so close that it would be so easy, so easy, to kiss him.  To taste him.  To have a small part of him that she’s wanted for so long.

“Only for you, Fireheart.”

…

After

California bleeds neon lights and smoke on the horizon.

At first, Aelin can only stare at the skyline and bustling streets and the myriad of people passing by like they’ve got all the time in the world.  At first, Aelin can only breathe in the smog that coats the air like a second skin and the underlying musk of sea water. 

She flew into Los Angeles on nothing but a whim and her last paycheck.  Elide told her not to go.  Aedion insisted she at least wait for him to come with her.  Lysandra gave her an extra hundred dollars for an emergency.

Now, she’s wandering the old boardwalks by the ocean, watching waves crash and crowds swarm various popular spots.  She doesn’t know where she is exactly.  All she knows is that she’s nowhere near Hollywood or all the fancy places that she’d always imagined California to have.  But that’s alright.  She’s always found her way in the unknown and unpredictable.  Even if it has been hell.

It's getting late and all she has guiding her is an old news letter she found online.  There’s supposed to be an old grunge bar around here along the downtown scene.  A place that supports those small artists with dreams bigger than reality.

The late fall light fades into the horizon, bringing a chill to the air.  Aelin hadn’t expected it—cool air and gentle breezes.  But she doesn’t mind it.  She’s full or energy and worry, which may as well be a good thing as the combination has kept her from spiraling out of control.

When she enters the bar she already things she’s in the wrong place.  The low lights and heady scent of cigarettes is enough to tell her so.  But she pays a cover fee for the musicians playing and works her way to the front. 

A part of her mind screams that she should have gotten here sooner, that it’s nearing the final acts and she’s missed her opportunity.  Another part of her is convinced that she shouldn’t even be here to begin with.  Afterall, it’s been five years. 

But Aelin knows she would wait for any length of time; she’d always find a way back to his side.  She got out of her own nightmares even if it did take her years.  Maybe she should have called.  She even has his number and has listened to every voicemail he’s left on repeat as if its her own lullaby for the darkest nights.

It takes some effort, but Aelin makes it closer to the stage.  She’s still two rows back, but it’s close enough, she thinks. 

On stage a woman finishes a ballad with her guitar.  The music’s simple and her scratchy voice doesn’t hold the song together—at least in Aelin’s opinion, but she’s so far detached from this world, maybe she doesn’t know anything.

As the woman exits, a young college kid steps up to the microphone.  His hair falls in his face and he’s trying to layer flannel and an old-style t-shirt that doesn’t quite work for him.

“Next up we’ve got our regular,” the kid announces, already pulling away to make room for the final act. “Rowan Whitethorn.”

All around Aelin, the audience erupts into cheers.  They’ve all come for him, she realizes.  All eagerly awaiting the one person Aelin’s been waiting her entire life for.  She wants to cheer, wants to clap, wants to do anything but stand there and stare.  She can’t.

Because walking across the stage to the electric piano set up in the corner is Rowan.  Rowan with his hair too long.  Rowan with an unlit cigarette behind one ear.  Rowan with his da’s guitar case by his side, even now.  Rowan with tan skin and tattoos reflecting in the pale light of the bar.  Her Rowan that she’s loved for longer than she can say.

He doesn’t look up as he adjusts the settings of the piano and strikes a few keys.  He messes with the microphone next, making sure it’s lined up the way he likes it. 

When he does look up, it’s as though he’s always expected to find her there.  It doesn’t take long at all for their gazes to meet, for his green eyes to burn under the yellow bar lights.  His lips part in silent surprise and Aelin feels her skin heat when he cocks his head to one side before finally, a small smile kicks up one corner of his mouth.

He leans in to the microphone—eyes never leaving hers.

“Fireheart,” he says. “I promised we’d find each other again.”

…

After

She’s lost again.

But not in the way she once was.

Because instead of being surrounded by her nightmares, she’s tangled up in strong arms that haven’t let her go in hours.  She’s lost in him like never before.

She doesn’t mind of course.  Because she’s lost in him this time.  Skin to skin, soul to soul.  And there’s no place she’d rather be.

Aelin sighs and burrows in closer to his side.  He smells of pine and snow just like always.  It’s better than her memories, being so close to him.  Better than anything she could have hoped for.  She never thought it would come to this. 

For so long she’d wandered through her life trying like hell to find her ways.  Too often it felt like she was drowning, scrambling for air, for salvation.

And then she’d met Rowan. 

She doesn’t blame him for leaving.  She told him as much when he tried to apologized.  Silenced him with her kisses, in fact. 

Somehow they made it back to his apartment—small and tucked above a Thai restaurant.  It didn’t take them long to rediscover each other.  For Rowan to find the new scars along her back, for Aelin to learn the paths of his new tattoos. It didn’t take long at all to fall together into bed and spend the night whispering promises into the neon lights that filtered through the bedroom drapes.

“Fireheart,” Rowan whispers, his soft voice enough to pull Aelin from her thoughts.

She looks up into his eyes, already smiling. “Buzzard.”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan runs a hand up her bare side, the calluses on his fingers catching her skin.  It’s enough to cause her to shiver which lights a new fire in Rowan’s gaze.

Whatever he was going to say is lost as he leans in and kisses her.  She reacts instantly, not that she can help it.  Everything about Rowan draws her in.  His mouth is insistent and teasing and his hands leave hot trails against her skin as he pulls her on top of him.

It’s only when they’re both gasping for air that they break apart.  Rowan brushes Aelin’s hair from her face, his large hand running across her cheek.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Their next kiss is slow and languid and sends sparks shooting through Aelin’s entire body.

They don’t speak again until morning when dawn breaks and scatters sunshine across the bed.  But when they wake it’s with the knowledge that never again are they going to come apart.  They’ll be together across every mile, side-by-side.

end.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

taglist is a joke will reblog soon

[maased-out]

2023 EVENTS

February

SJM Romance Week (February 8th–February 14th)

Gwynriel Weeks (February 26th–March 11th)

March

Elain Archeron Week (March 19th–March 25th)

April

Throne of Glass Read Along (April 1st–April 10th)

Crown of Midnight Read Along (April 11th–18th)

Heir of Fire Read Along (April 19th–April 28th)

Nesta Archeron Week (April 23rd–April 29th)

The Assassin's Blade Read Along (April 29th–May 5th)

May

Elriel Month (April 30th–May 31st)

Aelin Week (May 1st–May 7th)

Queen of Shadows Read Along (May 6th–May 18th)

Empire of Storms Read Along (May 19th–May 30th)

June

Tower of Dawn Read Along (May 31st–June 10th)

Azris Week (June 4th–June 10th)

Gwyn Appreciation Week (June 11th–June 17th)

Kingdom of Ash Read Along (June 11th–June 25th)

Tamlin Appreciation Week (June 18th–June 24th)

Sun and Flame Week (June 25th–July 2nd)

July

Elucien Week (July 9th–July 15th)

Archeron Sisters Week (July 16th–July 22nd)

Elorcan Week (July 23rd–July 29th)

Cassian Appreciation Week (July 30th–August 5th)

August

Mor Week (August 6th–August 12th)

Valkyrie Week (August 14th–August 23rd)

Feysand Week (August 21st–August 27th)

Neris Week (August 26th–September 1st)

September

Rowaelin Month (September 1st–September 30th)

Aedion Ashryver Week (September 3rd–September 9th)

Elain Archeron Week (September 3rd–September 9th)

Nessian Week (September 10th–September 16th)

Eris Vanserra Week (September 17th–September 23rd)

Rhysand Appreciation Week (September 24th–September 30th)

October

Lucien Vanserra Appreciation Week (October 8th–October 14th)

November

Crescent City Week (November 5th–November 11th)

Emerie Appreciation Week (November 12th–November 18th)

December

ACOTAR Gift Exchange (December 16th–December 23rd)

[mariaofdoranelle]

Rowaelin Month 2023: Masterlist

‘Til the Bone Crush

Day 2: Accidents Happen

Daydreaming About You

Day 4: “Friends don’t do this”

Don’t Hold Your Breath

Day 9: Renaissance Fair

Fake It Till You Make It

Day 11: Trip to the Police Station

Whiny Whitethorn

Day 26: Taking care of the littles solo

I’ll update this as I go!

[slytherhys]

On-Going Stories 🌞

Cruel Summer - I love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard? - With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

Threads of Fate & Magical Inns - On her way to Velaris, a storm forces Elain to stop at a remote inn for the night. After finding herself snowed in, Elain has to wait the storm out with only a solemn cat as company. Or so she thought.

Feysand Oneshots ✨

Home - A short domestic oneshot of feysand and baby nyx

Beautiful Boy - Nyx’s first birthday party.

Elriel Oneshots 🌹

After Midnight - Elriel sneaking out to the cabin (Elriel Month 2023)

Secrets and Promises - An Elriel Starfall One Shot

Lonely Heart - Injured Azriel (hurt/comfort)

Lover of Mine - "How about some lazy morning sex for Elriel"

Keeping Secrets - Cassian's allergies help him solve a mystery 🪻

Mastermind - An Elriel Halloween One-Shot 🎃

One Night Only - An Elriel Christmas Story 🎄

Noctis Florere - Vampire AU 🧛‍♂️

A Case of Punctuality - New Year's Eve One-Shot (Pure Smut) 🎆

Too Sweet (for me) - Azriel tries not to think about Elain (and fails miserably) 🥃

Rowaelin Oneshots ❤️‍🔥

I've Just Seen a Face - Modern AU, Coffee-shop x love at first sight (songfic)

Threads of Fate and Magical Pubs - A Rowaelin Christmas Story 🎄

Rowaelin Fanfic ❤️‍🔥

Strung-Out Heart - Oh hold

Bonus 💫

November Prompts - Elriel, Elorcan, Manorian 🍂

12 Days of Christmas - 12 short christmas stories to celebrate the holidays. Includes Feysand, Elriel & Nessian! 🎄

You can also read my stories on AO3 !

[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.”

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 10

~ Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry ~

You might remember this fic from last year. Well, I had plans to make it a one off thing but then I couldn't help it and I got another idea. And I just want to say thank you to everyone who read the first part and loved it. It's so fun when you guys love something as much as I do. Without further delay, please enjoy Part 2 who we really and truly have to thank Rowaelin month and @rowaelinscourt for.

~~~~~

All Aelin could do was stare at her own reflection in the mirror of her dressing room vanity. She didn’t have long before she had to leave her sanctuary and face a crowd of strangers like her entire world hadn’t been rocked at its foundations. Acting was a talent she’d taken to at a very young age, the tales of her dramatics often told around the dinner table. Aelin would be fine, she’d put on one of her charismatic smiles and give her audience her all, and everything would be fine. But for now, it was only her stunned expression to keep her company. 

That was how Rowan found her however long later, silent and still as her mind was whirring with thoughts of the future. Aelin had lost track of the minutes spent doing absolutely nothing, and as Rowan appeared in the mirror she startled, a hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from flying out of her chest. 

“Holy gods, you scared me,” she breathed as Rowan removed his cap and kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan murmured onto her skin as he kissed her again. When he noticed she still hadn’t moved, not in the slightest, to look at him or seek out another kiss his voice changed from teasing to concern. “Are you all right?”

Aelin finally found the compulsion to move, swivelling in her makeup chair to face Rowan. It was always infinitely more pleasant when he could come to the studio without the threat of being in front of the camera. Not as exciting for her, but she was still happy to see him. When he came to visit her here Rowan had to sneak in and from the sheer amount of times he’d done he’d developed quite the skill for it. The tricky part was not drawing attention, and with years of practice he had the art of blending in down to a fine art. 

The key was appearing so much unlike his professional self that it would take more than a double take to place why he looked so familiar. So today with his scruffy hat hair, hoodie and stubble covered cheeks, he was a far cry from the suave and composed image he gave the camera.

Since Rowan’s last public performance here he’d been promoting his new album and gone on tour. Over the past eight months Aelin had hardly seen him except via a phone screen. The last time they had managed to see each other in person was when he had shows in Suria and snuck away when he should have been sleeping in to come see her. That was about six weeks ago.

“We have a situation,” Aelin had said, looking up at him and jerking her head towards the vanity. “And I think we have this room and that couch to blame.” 

Rowan’s brows furrowed then looked to where she had directed. His eyes went wide and he did a few double takes before his gaze finally settled on her. There was an open question in his eyes and Aelin just nodded. Then he let out a shaky laugh as he realised fully what this all meant, a hand rubbing his stubbled chin. 

“Well, I guess this changes things,” Rowan finally said. 

“Indeed it does,” Aelin confirmed. “We need a plan, and I think I have one.”

THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER…

Aelin always got butterflies waiting behind the curtain for the final call of action. The crowd was still humming with chatter and she could hear the last camera checks over her in-ear monitor. This time the butterflies were worse, enough to make her nauseous. Today’s show would be one to be remembered and it had taken a good amount of deceit and scheming to get here.

“Alright, Aelin,” a voice said into her ear. “Curtains open in five, four, three…”

Aelin took in a deep breath, the last two counts sounding in her head. Two, One.

The applause started and then the curtains opened, Aelin taking the ten steps forward to get to her mark. She smiled and waved while she made eye contact with a few people seated in the audience. There were cheers and whistles, and when it went on a little too long Aelin held up her hands to start quieting them down as the prompt screen undoubtedly displayed QUIET PLEASE. Once the audience had settled Aelin began her welcoming monologue. 

“Thank you so much,” she said, her smile stretching wide, and there were cheers again. “Now, now, as much as I would love to stand here and lap up every bit of your admiration, I don't get paid for that.” There was a healthy amount of laughter. “I get paid to put on a show and what a show do we have planned for today. They’re always special, what am I talking about? It reminds of something my father used to say, slightly inappropriate but I think—”

The strum of a guitar interrupted her and Aelin made sure she looked affronted even though she knew exactly what was going on. When the the chord turned into music she sent a confused look to the audience a millisecond before they broke out in raucous cheers. Aelin whirled around  to see Rowan strutting out, centrestage from where she had been standing moments before with the smallest of smug smiles on his face. He was looking down at his guitar and Aelin put her hands on her hips to show her displeasure. Rowan had the gall to wink at her. If he wasn’t careful he’d give the whole gig away. 

Even though it wasn’t his job, it was Fenrys who darted out from the wings and dropped a mic and stand in front of Rowan, and then he was gone again. It became a stand off, Rowan playing while he challenged her with a look that told her to get off his stage, even though it was her stage. 

He had to win for the whole ploy to work, so Aelin gave an overexaggerated and exasperated sigh, her hands falling to her sides as half turned to the audience as she said, “I guess I know when I’m not needed.”

It was hard, but Aelin withheld her own smile as she gave Rowan the limelight. He hadn’t stopped playing, the chords effortlessly coming from the instrument and he never missed a beat. Aelin found a spot by the foot of the low steps near her interview platform, right beside Fenrys who had decided not to head out of sight. He nudged her with his elbow and winked. Aelin tried not to look too pleased with herself. 

The tempo picked up and Rowan readied himself in front of the microphone. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest, it always did in the anticipation of the song beginning. It always happened when Rowan was about to sing. He closed his eyes, grounding himself to the melody and then his deep voice filled the studio.

I found a love, for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

“Sweet?” Fenrys muttered under his breath.

Aelin tried very hard not to snort and ruin Rowan’s performance. “Artistic licence. Now hush” 

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was.

They might not have been kids but they were young and stupid enough to mistake their mutual animosity for other feelings that were way at the other end of the spectrum. When they had admitted to their true feelings it was like Aelin’s entire world had fallen into place. Rowan was everything she wanted and she had just been too willfully ignorant to see. Thank the gods they had come to their senses. Eventually. 

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it

Darling, you look perfect tonight

Aelin remembered that night, Rowan had surprised her after she’d been deep cleaning her house all day. It was the first time that Rowan had seen her so dishevelled. Her cheeks had burned, he didn’t notice, just sweeping into her kitchen to make dinner. They had sat outside, eating on a blanket, and after Rowan had pulled her to her feet to dance under the night’s sky, the cooling grass beneath their feet. 

The backing curtain rose, revealing a small band to accompany Rowan and his guitar playing. The music swelled to new heights and Aelin was reminded of just how much she loved this song.

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

Unconsciously Aelin’s hand drifted to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, but how could she not when he was singing about that. 

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this

Darling, you look perfect tonight

When the instrumental bridge began Rowan stopped playing, letting the backing band have their moment. Confused, Aelin sent him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. He just pulled his guitar over his head, walked over and handed it over to Fenrys. Before Aelin could even ask aloud about whatever was going on right now Rowan had taken her hand and spun her into a dance. Fenrys’ laugh was audible and she knew they must have looked quite the sight. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, which came to her so naturally in this moment. They were still on camera, and they had images to maintain. Her the larger than life social star, he the cold and callous musician, although with this break in character Rowan’s was very quickly unravelling. Aelin knew this song by heart, he’d played it for her enough, so she knew when he had danced too long for that standard interlude, but the band covered him.

He did dance her back over to her spot by the stage before it was too obvious that he was stalling and took his guitar back. Rowan was effortlessly able to join back in, his voice impassioned as he started the final rendition of the chorus. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

By the gods he did. With everything that he had been through and what he had given to Aelin without question, he deserved every bit of happiness they had together. As her thoughts ran off the music slowed, Rowan closing out the song, strumming the last few chords himself and ending it on a truly acoustic note. 

You look perfect tonight

The applause was deafening, and Aelin joined in. Like he always did, Rowan went a little shy when accepting the adoration being rained down on him. His cheeks went a delectable shade of pink and he nodded at the crowd who just kept clapping. Aelin gave Fenrys a jab in the arm to get him moving off camera and out of the way. Knowing the camera was now on her, Aelin put on her signature teasing smirk, clapping as Rowan approached. Gods damn him, but he held out his hand like the gentleman to help her up the miniscule steps. His back was to the camera, convenient as he scowled at the towering heels she’d chosen to wear today. He would say they were a safety concern, Aelin was adamant they made her outfit.

They sat in the arms chairs, sinking into the plush cushions. Their eyes were on each other while they waited for the commotion to die down enough for the interview to start. Rowan must have made quite the impression because it took the QUIET PLEASE flashing longer than usual for the audience to follow the instruction. When they finally did Aelin grinned. 

“How dare you interrupt my monologue,” she said. 

Rowan had assumed his cool and aloof demeanour, and he just shrugged. “That song was more heartfelt than any spiel you were about to give.”

Aelin gasped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

In fact, she’d woken him up with soft kisses that had led to more, and he’d left bed in the best mood possible. 

“Now that song,” Aelin said, drawing out each word. “It’s a love song, and from those beautifully written, heartfelt words, it feels like it might have been written about someone special.”

“If you have a question, Aelin, just ask it,” Rowan challenged. 

She lent forward, the thrill of the game exciting her. “I have many questions. First, what can you tell me about this,” Aelin waved her hand flippantly over her shoulder, where she knew a photo from Rowan’s Instagram was being shown.  “I showed this post a few months ago and I can tell you there were more than a few broken hearts in this studio.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. Aelin shot a glance at the picture, admiring the large emerald set in a gold band. Rowan couldn’t have done better in picking the perfect engagement ring for her, Aelin had hated that she hadn’t been able to wear it and to show it off. The only public admittance of their relationship was this photo and because it only showed Aelin’s hand she had remained anonymous. There was just the widespread devastation that Rowan Whitethorn was officially off the market, the media sent into a tizzy because no one knew who his mystery woman was. It cost them both an exorbitant amount in NDAs but somehow they had managed to keep it all out of the public eye.

“My favourite comment is this one: WTF But you and Aelin! I shipped the two of you so hard. You’ve broken my heart,” Aelin read. “How could you break their heart like that, Rowan? Have you no compassion?”

“I don’t know how people can see the way we interact and imagine us together,” Rowan said.

“Shipping is the word you’re looking for,” Aelin explained. “You may be too old to be down with the lingo, unfortunately.”

Rowan scoffed, selling his arrogance. “I could say the same about you, I doubt kids today know what the word lingo means.”

“At least I’m not as old as you,” Aelin threw in a little bite to her words to make her anger believable. “I have that going for me amongst all my other admirable and desirable qualities.”

“If you say so.” She saw Rowan fighting his smile but he kept his composure in the end. “You just like anything that draws attention to you. Never mind how ridiculous and unfounded that attention might be.”  

“I see falling in love hasn’t done any favours to you manners,” Aelin teased.

“Maybe it’s just you, Aelin. You seem to make it your mission to make me as nasty as I can be." Rowan sounded both impatient and offended, a practised tone for him.

“What can I say, I love to ruffle your feathers. And It’s not my fault they’re so easily ruffled,” Aelin countered. “But I should at least offer my congratulations. An engagement is one thing but I’m more interested in what comes after.”

A video played on the large screen behind the two of them, the song Rowan had just sung playing again in lower quality with just him and his guitar. Aelin watched the grainy video footage, seeing him dressed in dark pants with the buttons of is white shirt rolled to his elbows, the rest of his features were blurred by the terrible quality of the camera work. His stand out feature was his voice as he sang to an unknown figure. The heads of the guests obscured the view of who that was, the only thing that was seen of her was her hands dancing above her head for a few moments. Fenrys had done a wonderful job purposefully terrible camera work.

There were some murmurs from the audience as they put together the other pieces of information the video showed them. It was more than clear what this delightful snippet was from, but Aelin began the dance anyway.

“That looks like you’re at a wedding,” she said. 

“My own, in fact,” Rowan confirmed. There were a few cheers at that, the news wasn’t new. It had been hard won but they had managed to fully control what information had gone out about the special event. “You should know, you were there.”

This time there were a few surprised gasps and muttering of what. The animosity between Aelin and Rowan was notorious, and although some tabloids tried to put a flirtatious spin on it it never seemed to stick. Their feuding held more entertainment and money. 

“I wasn’t invited directly, I came as a plus one for a very important guest.” Aelin lent back in her chair, consciously keeping her hands on the arms of it. “It was a magical affair and a wonderful night. I must say though, I think you could  have done better. You’re worth millions after all.”

Rowan’s eyebrows rose with indignant surprise. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, the venue for starters,” Aelin said. “It felt like a prison inside, all those high walls and artificial lighting. Why were we punished for your success?”

“I’m a private man, as you well know. There’s certain things I can’t compromise on to maintain it.”

“And the colour scheme,” she made a disgusted sound. “So basic. Green and gold? Sounds like the colour scheme for a sports team.”

There was a chuckle from Rowan at that. “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things.”

“You’d be surprised at what I pay attention to,” Aelin said with a flirtatious wink. “That dress. Stunning. Couldn’t have chosen a more stunning piece of art.”

“At least you have one positive thing to say,” even though he sounded completely unimpressed. “She was stunning as ever, even though wedding planning did make her kind of a diva.”

Aelin lent a hand on her chin, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth even though she wanted to insist the contrary. “Pity about that, though I’d say your temperaments match. Or more likely she realised it was your sorry ass that she was marrying and didn’t want you to face the embarrassment of being left at the altar. I think you should thank her for that kindness.”

“Anything else that didn’t meet your expectations, your Highness?” Rowan made sure to add an edge of mocking to his voice, but Aelin could see the mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Aelin tapped her chin, sending a conspiring look to the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats waiting for her next biting quip. “The wine, I would have chosen better.” That held some truth, because Aelin hadn't exactly participated in the trying before buying. 

“You didn’t even drink any,” Rowan said, almost ruining everything by laughing. They would need to wrap this up quickly before he gave them away completely. This man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. 

“That,” she drew the word out as a warning, “was because I heard it was so terrible I didn’t even bother with it. Now let’s get back to your lovely little song.”

“If you’d like,” Rowan added callously. 

In return Aelin sent him a wry smile. “I understand it was for your wife. A serenade for her on your wedding day.”

Rowan just nodded. There was a call of but who is she from the audience. Host and guest both pointedly ignored it. 

“The lyrics are beautiful, and obviously come from the heart. She must be a very lucky woman to have your devotion.” Then Aelin turned towards the audience. “Who knew Rowan Whitethorn could be such a softy, even his vows had me in tears.”

There was no word of a lie there. As Rowan had declared his love to her, and promised to honour and care for them as long as he lived, Aelin couldn’t keep back the tears. Her father had to pass her his pocket square so she could dab the tears away without ruining her makeup. 

“Over all, it was quite the party,” Aelin said. 

Rowan snuck her a secret smile. “It was.”

“I’d say the party really started once the bride and groom left,” Aelin mused.

“Did it just?” Rowan said in that dry way of his.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, trying not to remember too vividly how they had gone back to their room and really celebrated lest she blush on camera. “Your presence has that kind of impact.”

Rowan had to look down to hide most of his smile as he shook his head at her antics. It really was time to wrap it up before he lost all restraint and just blurted everything out because Aelin teased too hard and he bit too quickly. 

“Where is your shiny new wedding ring anyway? It just about blinded me at the reception,” Aelin said. 

This was the predetermined phrase that would uncover them at last. For nearly two years Aelin and Rowan had managed to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. They were about to undo all their hard work, but it was about time and most definitely worth it. Bringing their relationship to light would save them from all the speculation and rumours that continuously surrounded them. Not completely, there would always be gossip of cheating and the like, but it would be nice not to hide anymore. 

Rowan shifted so that he could reach into his back pocket and then showed off his ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I took it off to play, didn’t want it getting in the way.”

Even though they had no idea what they were anticipating, the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rowan slipped his ring onto his finger then looked right at Aelin. 

“I’ve got yours, too,” Rowan said, this time reaching into the pocket over his heart. There was tittering from the audience, Aelin struggled to keep her face neutral. “I found them on the bathroom counter, I thought you might want them.”

The was a singular, very high pitched WHAT from someone in the audience. Rowan held out his hand to her, palm up with the emerald on full display. 

Biting her bottom lip to stop her grin was futile and Aelin only had eyes for Rowan as she said, “Thank you, but I’d left them there on purpose.”

Rowan was grinning too, his eyes darting down to her stomach. “Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t get them on,” Aelin said casually, risking a glance at her audience who looked like they were ready to explode. “My fingers were too swollen. Tends to happen when you’re pregnant.”

Absolutely pandemonium broke out. Aelin stood, watching as the audience collectively lost their mind and smoothed her hands over her dress, showing off the small bump she had hidden beneath. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and clapping, there were whistles and a few screams. She smiled, caressing her bump affectionately again. It had been difficult but they had managed to keep the pregnancy out of public knowledge. A few of the tabloids had run stories about her looking pregnant but when nothing came of it, they just gave up. Aelin had faced pregnancy allegations every other week for years, this time it wasn’t a lie. She was just too good at keeping secrets. A baby had been a surprise, to say the least, but not at all an unwelcome one. The wardrobe department had a hard time dressing her lately in an attempt to hide the pregnancy and to keep her comfortable. Even more NDAs were handed out over it.

And then Rowan stood too, off script. He swept an arm around her waist and she went willingly into his embrace. Rowan tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that was just for her, his eye crinkling in the corner. When he kissed her Aelin let him, returning it fervently. It was probably too amorous for day time television but Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to care—not when Rowan whispered I love you and looked at her like that. 

Once the chaos died down Rowan had been sent off and Aelin had to focus on her real job, Getting through the rest of the show had been a feat. As soon as Rowan had left the stage Aelin pretended like nothing had happened. The next segment had been promoting various popular books, followed by video chatting a school telling them her studio was providing them with iPads. All in all, it was a fantastic show, but now that it was over she was free to return to her dressing room.

Rowan was waiting for her, arm draped over the back of the couch and looking far too good. Aelin tried not to slam the door but her excitement got the better of her. Kicking off her heels she wasted no more time before climbing into Rowan’s lap, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs brushing over her sides. 

When they finally broke apart Rowan said, “You could have let up a little.”

“I’m still mad about it being a shotgun wedding,” Aelin pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know if it was the hormones or purely the lyrics but I had to blink back the tears.”

“How is that my fault? You’ve heard that song a hundred times.” Rowan was giving her a look that only insisted that part was not his fault.

Aelin ignored it completely. “And you almost gave it away so many times, like when you told the world I wasn’t drinking.”

Rowan's deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and he urged her closer. “We were heading in a wedding direction anyway. We just needed a little bit of a push. You can’t blame me for getting a little excited over telling everyone.”

His hand rested over her stomach, right over the tiny thing that had given them much more than a little push. Finding out that they were pregnant had accelerated all the plans they had for their future. They didn’t see the point in waiting to get engaged or prolonging the time between that and a wedding. They had chosen each other, and like their vows had said, they were in this together until whatever end. Still, the joke of the shotgun wedding was too funny to let go of, and there had also been the fact she hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring outside the house. It was beautiful and deserved to be shown off. 

The feeling of Rowan’s lips making their way up her neck drew her back to the present. “I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?” Rowan asked but wasn’t deterred by her shift in topic and kissed her jaw.

“That we most likely conceived on this very couch,” Aelin explained. “You were busy with your tour and I checked the dates and you were only in town for those few days.”

Rowan stopped kissing her to laugh. “Is this a lucky couch then?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Aelin said, her hand slipping into his hair tugging it just the way he liked. “I certainly like to get lucky on it.”

Rowan groaned, leaning in so that scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Did you lock the door?”

The words were whispered onto her skin and made Aelin shiver. All resolve lost, she melted against Rowan, sighing as his hands wandered over her body. Gods, she needed him, her blood still thrumming from all the excitement of the interview. And she could feel how much Rowan needed her, a teasing roll of her hips only intensifying the situation. 

“There’s no need,” Aelin said and Rowan pulled back enough to see his face. “To quote our dear friend Fenrys, after all that foreplay no one would even risk disturbing us right now.”

Rowan’s grin was near feral. “No more wasted time then.”

They both moved, meeting in the middle for a kiss that set every fire within them blazing. The couch it seemed, would prove to be more than useful yet again. And like Aelin had said, lessons had been learned and no one interrupted them… this time.

~~~~~

Hope you like that one! I know I certainly did

[goddess-aelin]

Goddess-Aelin’s Fic Masterlist

Rowaelin:

Multichapter:

- Dancing to a Happy Song (Canonverse)

- Little Did I Know (Modernverse)

-My Place in the Tidal Waves (Modernverse)

Oneshots:

-Sticking to You Like Gum on My Shoe (Modernverse)

-Can I Buy You a Drink? (Modernverse)

-Baby’s First Steps (Canonverse)

-I’ve Got You (Canonverse)

-Room For Another (Modernverse)

-The First Yulemas (Canonverse)

-You Make it Feel Like Yulemas (Modernverse)

-What Do You Mean? (Modernverse)

-Lovesick (Modernverse)

-What’s Another One? (Canonverse)

Rowaelin Month 2023

-Accidents Happen (Modernverse)

-Friends Don’t Fall In Love (Modernverse)

-Peonies and Poplars (Modernverse)

-Part 2

-Just a DILF (Modernverse)

-Crumpled (Modernverse)

-Antics (Canonverse)

-Little Falcon (Canonverse)

-Putting Out Fires (Canonverse)

[freyjas-musings]

Since people seem to be delusional about the world revolving around them, I find it essential to put it out there that I basically don't run by other peoples schedules, events or lives .

All my mini projects are based on my schedule my ideas and the people I want to work and collaborate with .

Since, parts of this fandom are thick and have the intellect of a potato here is a little information on all of my projects for this year. As I previously mentioned, leave me the hell alone and leave my artists be. I don't have time for your disgusting need for attention.

None of my commissions are allowed to be reposted on any of the social media platforms. This was always the rule. If the creative work remains the artist's property, the concept is my intellectual property and I pay for them so I reserve the ownership and copyrights to all of the art work I commission.

Now for my schedule

A picture and the story behind April to mid June - In progress.

July - Will be participating in Elorcan week

August Azriels Week - hosted by the Gwynriel fandom, will be participating based on the prompts provided.

SEPTEMBER- will be participating in the Rowaelin month also have a mini series for Gwynriel and Nessian week.

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER- BREAK FROM SOCIAL MEDIA FOR MENTAL SANITY AND BECAUSE I HAVE A LIFE

December- Holiday Series

January 2023 - I will be participating in an event hosted by some one else will wait for the actual event and details to be announced formally .

This should shed some light for any of the delusional morons out there that we all have our own projects schedules and life to work with get over yourselves.

You guys just targeted a young artist who loves doing what she does.... on a normal basis I would throw some profanities your way , but I am exhausted and I feel terrible for the girl... I may have been indirectly responsible for putting a target on her back. I have already apologised to her about it but from the bottom of my heart I can assure you each one of you who have used your platform to bully and abuse will be held accountable for your actions.

[rowaelinscourt]

Rowaelin Month: PROMPT SUBMISSIONS OPEN

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

A quick refresher on the rules:

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

2. All prompts submissions will remain anonymous.

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

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

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

You can submit  your prompt submissions

HERE

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

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Rowaelin Month Collection 2021/2022/2023

Main Masterlist | Collections Masterlist

*All fics listed within a collection are also on my masterlist for their particular fandom. I am just a slut for organization, so I've categorized certain fics for easier navigation*

Rowaelin Month 2021

D1 - Drug-Induced Declarations

Prompt: "I just realized I'm desperately in love with you." After getting her wisdom teeth out, Aelin makes a profound realization.

D2 - Computer Screens and Love Scenes

Prompt: College/University. "You caught me reading hardcore smut during class and you're wondering how I can read this with a straight face."

D4 - My Library, My Love

Prompt: Librarian/Library. After moving into their new home, Rowan helps Aelin organize her new library and gifts her a very special present.

D5 - Objects in Mirror are Closer than they Appear

Prompt: "I accidentally hit you with my car." Aelin will be the first to admit that parallel parking is not her forte.

D8 - An Unintentional Encounter

Prompt: Blind Date. A blind date gone wrong...or very right?

D11 - The Taste of Your Lips

Prompt: Surprise Kisses. Who enjoys kissing Rowan more? Aelin, or Fleetfoot?

D12 - The Court: The Last One

Prompt: Delayed Love Confession. The Court. Rowan, after realizing he's still in love with Aelin, chases her down, refusing to let her go. Meanwhile, Eldie and Lorcan welcome their baby...or babies, into the world.

D13 - Tattoos and Tulips

Prompt: Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlour. Part 2 of Parlors and Petals. Aelin, while apprenticing at Elide's Tattoo Parlor, meets a very handsome, very charismatic Florist's Assistant

D14 - A Starlit Swim

Prompt: Skinny Dipping. Aelin shows Rowan to a lovely, secluded spot.

D17 - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Prompt: Bodyguard. With Rowan injured, Aelin steps up to be his faithful protector.

D28 - When a Book Beckons

Prompt: Bookshop. When Aelin finds a flyer advertising a strange bookshop, she can't help but follow its cryptic directions. Why does she feel called to it? And why does the mysterious, silver-haired bookkeeper feel so familiar?

Rowaelin Month 2022

✨Sept 12-25, 2022✨

D1 - Twist of Fate

Prompt: SongFic. Aelin and Rowan find second chances at love in each other. SongFic based on “Twist of Fate” by Olivia Newton-John.

D3 - To the Ends of the Earth

Prompt: Travel/Vacation. An A World Away Companion. Aelin and Rowan decide their next adventure. Be it fate or bad aim, it'll be somewhere neither have ever been before.

D5 - Incriminating Questions

Prompt: A Trip to the Hospital. Malicious closet doors and broken bones.

D6 - Study Specs

Prompt: College/University AU. Aelin may have finally found her weakness, not that she'd admit to having one in the first place. She was not prepared for what seeing Rowan in a pair of glasses would do to her.

D7 - Divine Intervention

Prompt: Holiday Celebration. "The Ouiia board says you're a little shit." / "Oh, my gods, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you're a dumbass?

D10 - Drive, Just Drive

Prompt: An Unconventional Way to Get a Date. When someone runs towards you screaming "Run", you run. When someone throws themselves in your car and screams "Drive", you drive.

Rowaelin Month 2023

D1 - Timeless [Immortals]

Prompt: SongFic. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants