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mynameismckenziemae · 3 months

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She's a Fire-Chapter XXVII

Forever

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Chapter summary: Bradley surprises you…in more ways than one.

(previous chapter here, epilogue here)

Warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, ass play, oral (m receiving), p in v,

The second half of the summer flies by, especially with the squad is deployed halfway through August. The plan was they were supposed to be back the week before Sunny and Bob’s wedding.

It was now the Thursday before and still no word from any of them. They hadn’t been allowed their phones at all so the last 4 weeks had been awful not being able to communicate in any way with Bradley.

Thankfully Bob had been granted leave and arrived a few days ago, but over half the wedding party wasn’t in Minnesota yet.

You’d flown in with Sunny a few days prior to help, but with everything done that could be, Sunny insisted you pick up your parents from the airport.

You people watch as you wait, smiling at the sweet reunions in front of you. Unexpected tears spring to your eyes as you watch an older gentleman hand his wife a bouquet of flowers and draw her into a hug. You giggle as he reaches down to cop a feel of her butt while he presses a kiss to her lips. She pulls away and smacks his chest with a blush, but smiles.

You have a feeling that’ll be you and Bradley in 40 years.

Absence had done nothing make your heart grow fonder and you realized how head over heels you really were. Not only did you want him to be there for the wedding, you miss him. You miss the way he makes you laugh, how he draws you to him in the middle of the night, the songs he sings so sweetly to Lola, and definitely the sex, but also the intimacy.

Your phone pings, a text from your mom.

Mom: We just landed. They changed the gate so we’re coming in H7 now.

Rowan: Sounds good, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.

Laura: Can’t wait!

Rowan: Me either 😘

You smile and make your way over.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You wave as they come down the escalator, and are wrapped up in both of their arms a minute later.

“I’ve missed you guys so much!” You murmur, giving them both another squeeze before pulling away. You saw them for an extended weekend in April but that was it since Christmas.

“Missed you too hun,” your mom sniffs, voice full of tears.

“We brought someone else you’re probably missing,” your dad smiles, gently tugging your ponytail like he did when you were a kid.

Your heart stutters in your chest when you turn to see Bradley smiling.

Your own tears begin to fall as he wraps you in his arms. “When did-how did…what?” You ask, face pressed against his chest.

“We got in last night, Sunny wanted to surprise you. Flying in with your parents was just a coincidence. Caught up with them in Denver.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. When’s everyone else coming?”

“Right now,” Nat says from behind you, pulling you into a hug next. “Your dad’s hot, Row,” she whispers before releasing you.

You shake your head, laughing at her and hug Jake next, followed by the rest of the crew.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sunny: So were you surprised?

Rowan: Yes. You’re lucky you’re getting married or I’d be mad at you. I was freaking out.

Sunny: Lolol sorry

Rowan: No you’re not. Was Bob in on this?

Sunny: I’m totally not. He was…but only because I made him.

Rowan: Naughty girl. I should tell him to spank you for it.

Sunny: Please do?

You laugh. She thought it would be a good idea to refrain from having sex for a month so their wedding night would be “special”. Bob wasn’t keen on the idea but agreed. Sunny was fine while he was deployed but has been a hot mess since he arrived a few days ago. Even more so that Bob wasn’t giving in to her.

“All set?” Bradley asks as he gets in the driver’s seat of your rental from putting his bag in the back. Your parents and everyone else were sorting out the rental cars and meeting Sunny, Bob, and their families in 45 minutes at a restaurant nearby.

You don’t say anything, instead, leaning over the console to capture his lips. It quickly turns heated as you lick into his mouth.

“Fuck, there’s probably cameras everywhere,” he pants, pulling off your lips as your hand creeps up his thigh.

“You’re probably right,” you agree. “We better go.”

He’s barely out of the parking lot before you’re palming him. “What are you—oh,” he inhales sharply as you pull his cock from his jeans.

“There’s no cameras on the road though,” you murmur against his neck as you stroke him.

Okay, there probably is but thankfully it’s dark enough now that passersby’s and cameras won’t be able to see anything.

“You don’t have to—fuckkk,” he grunts, head thumping back against the headrest as you pull him into your mouth, flicking his frenulum with your tongue. His hand reaches to grip your ponytail, guiding your head up and down. You moan and his grip tightens at the vibration he feels in his balls.

“You’re…you feel so good, baby. I-ha! I’m not gonna last,” he breathes. “Where do you want me to…?”

“Mmm,” you hum, tightening your lips and swallowing around him.

“Yeah…yeah okay, just like tha—ohhh,” he groans as he cums in your mouth. You swallow it greedily and tuck him back into his pants just as you arrive at the restaurant.

“Fuck, Row,” he chuckles breathlessly as he shifts into park. “C’mere.”

He leans over for another kiss, shivering when he tastes himself on your tongue.

A knock on the window startles you apart. “Come on lovebirds, everyone’s here,” Natasha says, laughing as she and Jake pass.

“I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and return the favor, over and over again. I’m gonna pretend I’m looking at something under the hood until this goes down,” he murmurs, looking pointedly at his groin. He’s hard again. “Don’t really wanna walk in with a hard-on.”

You laugh and peck his lips before going inside.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

He keeps true to his word once back at the hotel.

First, he throws your legs over his shoulders and devours you against the door. Then again in the shower with the detachable shower head; your legs nearly give out when he kneels behind you and tongues your other hole at the same time. He finally gives in to your pleading and pushes into you after you fall into bed, loving you slow but steady.

“I love you…” he pants against your lips as he thrusts his hips faster, finally chasing his own release, “…so much.”

He grinds his hips against yours as pumps you full and kisses you, swallowing your cries as he triggers another orgasm.

You feel boneless as Bradley cleans you up and climbs in behind you, holding you so tightly against him, like he’s afraid you’ll drift away if he doesn’t. Soon you both drift off to sleep.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The next day passes quickly with decorating, massages, and a nail appointment followed by the rehearsal and dinner after. It’s after 1 AM when Bradley nudges you awake from the car to bring you to bed.

Your alarm startles you awake a few hours later. You press a kiss to his forehead before getting in the shower.

You feel his presence from behind as you rinse the shampoo from your hair.

He gathers your clean hair and pulls it to the side so he can kiss your neck.

10 minutes later your front is pressed gassing the glass door of the shower as Bradley fucks into you with deep, steady strokes.He brings your hand to hold the shower head he directed on your clit and brings his fingers back to brush over your other hole.

“I want to take you here soon,” he pants, pressing a wet finger in. “Can I? I’ll make it so good for you, baby.”

“Yessss,” you mewl, “I’ve been using the bigger plug when I play to get ready for you.”

His hips stutter as he chokes, “Good-good girl.”

You cry out as your orgasm rushes over into you at his praise. He works you through it, pulling out when your body relaxes, giving himself a few pulls to finish on your ass.

“I wanted to finish inside you, but I figured it wouldn’t go well with your silky dress,” he pants, forehead resting on your shoulder.

“You’re probably right. Never thought of that,” you laugh breathlessly. “Thank you.”

He hums and kisses your shoulder before pumping conditioner into his hand and coating the ends of your hair the way you like.

“You’re so good to me,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes as he bends to wash your feet a few minutes later.

He smiles, pecking a kiss on your knee and rising to help you rinse. “You’re so good to me. Love you, Row.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Don’t you look all freshly fucked and glowy,” Sunny rolls her eyes sullenly when you walk into the venue.

You laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah yeah,” she sighs, trying not to smile as you hand her the coffee you and Natasha had picked up.

“Happy wedding day!” You smile, wrapping her in a big hug. “I’m sure Bob will make it up to you tonight,” you whisper since his sister isn’t too far away.

“He better,” she sighs, taking a drink. “Thank you. Holy shit, I’m getting married today.”

“Yep. You are. Let’s get you ready.”

Tears of laughter and tears of happiness are shed throughout the morning while getting ready. Even more flow as she steps out of the dressing room after her mom. She looks stunning in her form-fitting, dropped-sleeved ivory gown. Her hair is pinned into a loose updo with her natural curly texture.

Several photos are taken with the bridesmaids and then you’re free to relax before the ceremony begins. Your phone buzzes as you wait for the ceremony to begin and Sunny gets some individual ones taken.

Bradley: Can’t wait to see you. I already know you look gorgeous. 😍

Rowan: Right back ‘atcha handsome. See you soon. 😘

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“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle. Just keep your eyes on Bobby, okay? Love you so much,” you whisper as you hug Sunny behind the doors of the ceremony hall.

“Love you more. Thank you for everything.” She murmurs back, giving you a big squeeze before releasing you.

Then it’s your cue.

You have to swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as you lock eyes with Bradley, who’s blinking rapidly to keep his own tears from falling as you walk towards the front. You meet Bob’s nervous gaze as you walk past him, giving him a wink. He winks back and visibly relaxes.

Bob’s nieces and Steve are next and break the nervous energy as Steve keeps chasing the petals they drop. He nearly knocks the girls over as he spots Bob and runs to lie down next to him.

The doors open next and Sunny’s mom rises, which signals everyone to do the same.

Sunny is glowing and there’s not a dry eye in the place as Sunny walks to Bob with her dad.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“I now pronounce to you, Mr. And Mrs. Floyd! You may kiss your bride.”

You kindly wave their sweet pastor out of the shot as Bob does just that.

It was a short but beautiful ceremony; they chose to do the traditional vows as they wrote their own and gifted them to each other beforehand.

“I was right, you look gorgeous Row,” Bradley whispers as he escorts you out.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur as you pose for pictures, drink cocktails, eat dinner, and cry your way through your speech. You feel like you can finally breathe once the dance begins.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bradley’s heart is pounding under your ear as you sway with him to a slow song. “You okay? Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah, just warm. I think I’m gonna get some air,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the song ends.

“I’ll come with-,” you start, but are interrupted by the DJ playing Beyoncé’s Single Ladies.

“Next up is the bouquet toss. If you don’t have a ring on it, head to the dance floor.”

“Come on, Row! That’s you.” Sunny says, pulling you back out.

“Alright, alright!” You laugh, letting her place you front and center.

“Let’s help Mrs. Floyd count down. 3, 2, 1!”

Sunny fakes a throw and then turns, nodding to the DJ then locking eyes with you as she walks over.

Realization sets in as you hear Elvis start to sing ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’.

Sunny has tears in her eyes as she smiles, handing you the bouquet. “Turn around.”

You feel light-headed as she turns your shoulders and steps around to join Bob and the small group of your friends and family behind Bradley, who’s down on one knee holding a beautiful, familiar-looking ring.

Tears immediately begin to spill over.

“Rowan, I-“ he hesitates, so nervous trying to find the right words. “Will you marry-“

A deafening cheer goes up as you nod, sobbing, “Yes!” as he wraps you in a hug.

You can’t seem to stop crying as you’re bombarded with well wishes and congratulations.

Sunny pulls you aside as your dad draws Bradley in for a hug, saying something that has Bradley wiping a tear as he pulls back.

“Why don’t you and Bradley go take a breather?” Sunny murmurs as she takes you aside.

“Yeah? Okay. Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? It’s your special day…”

“It was my idea! Well, kind of. Bradley was going to take you somewhere and propose over his birthday but the deployment threw a wrench in his plans. I told him he should do it tonight since your parents were gonna be here too.”

A fresh wave of tears flow as you hug her again.

“You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go!” She grins, smacking you on the ass.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You pull Bradley to a storage closet a few doors down.

“There was so much I wanted to say to you, and I hope you’re okay with me proposing here, Sunny and Bob were excited about it, I just-“ Bradley rambles, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“Baby, it was perfect. You’re perfect,” You sigh kissing him again.

“So everyone knew?” You ask when you finally pull away.

“Yeah pretty much. I can’t believe no one spoiled it. I’d asked your dad for permission at Christmas and-“

“Wait. At Christmas? That was like 3 months after we started dating?” You interrupt.

“Yeah,” he smiles, wiping another one of your stray tears. “I already knew then that you were the one.”

He brings you to his chest as you hiccup and sways you both to the muted music coming through the door. He rubs his finger over the ring. “Do you like it? It’s my mom’s. I had it dipped in white gold since I’ve never seen you wear yellow gold.”

Your chest tightens. “Oh my God, Bradley. That’s why it looks so familiar. It’s beautiful. I would have worn it happily either way!”

“I know, but Mom would’ve wanted you to have something you like though.”

“Well I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replies, kissing the top of your head.

The end(ish).

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A/N: Don’t freak out! There’s still an epilogue coming!

Also…my inbox is open and I’ve only gotten one ask so far so if there’s anything you want me to address in the epilogues get them in now.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun smut #bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin

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shyvioletcat · 8 months

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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

#rowelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #dressing room drama

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highqueenofelfhame · 2 years

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A/N: not my best banner or my best writing, but i saw this prompt and thought it would be fun. i had a mr & mrs smith au a little planned out a while ago and never got around to it and the prompt was perfect for it. i don’t know if i’ll ever write this out in full or write another part for this drabble, but it was fun to write! i didn’t edit so i’m sorry if there are typos or grammar issues. I’m a sleepy bebe and worked all day. kind of halloween related, only really halloween adjacent. either way i hope you enjoy! (prompt is bolded in the text to avoid a spoiler.)

rowaelin // 1424 words

Everything had been fine and perfectly normal when Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius woke up that morning.

Her husband had showered first while she made her first cup of coffee, and once she felt appropriately awake she took her turn. Rowan made breakfast like usual, leaving a fresh cup beside her egg-white and spinach omelet at the table. The two ate in complete silence with him flipping through a newspaper while Aelin skimmed her emails then scoured the news on her phone. They got dressed side by side in their nearly-too-big closet, fixed their hair at the jack and jill sink, brushed their teeth, and left at the same time. Aelin pulled out of the driveway first with Rowan close behind, and the last thing she saw of him that morning was his tail lights in her rearview while they drove opposite directions to work.

It was how every morning went in their house. If today had continued to be normal, she would have skimmed the food-box recipes after work, made a selection, and had dinner ready by the time he was home an hour later. They would have eaten with only a few words exchanged between them before going to their separate offices to do more work– or whatever the hell he did in there– then sat in silence and read books until it was late enough to go to sleep. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

It had been around nine-thirty in the morning when her entire life took a nosedive straight to hell.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Aelin had hissed through her teeth, eyes flaming with ire. Lysandra’s lips twisted to the side as she flipped the monitor around to show her friend the findings. While Aelin normally only screamed internally, she went off like a teapot if said teapot had the mouth of a sailor and the boiling anger of a woman scorned.

The target– her enemy– was her fucking husband. As if her job as a covert spy and assassin wasn’t tricky enough, the person she had been hunting for the last several weeks was Rowan Whitethorn of all fucking people.

The foul language pouring from her lips didn’t go unnoticed. It wasn’t long before she was sitting in her boss’s office with her head between her knees while she fought back tears of anger. Did he know? Was this all an elaborate game of cat and mouse, or was he going to be just as startled as she was when he realized?

It had never been a marriage with love, only one of convenience. Neither of them had family, only close friends. The two had never really been romantically involved with too many others, and Aelin needed a good cover. For awhile, they’d pretended to be madly in love and even had a fantastic sex life to work out the pent up frustration from work. Now she realized she was likely just as much a cover for him as he was for her, and she had been played like a godsdamn fiddle.

It was just as infuriating for her to realize she hadn’t picked up on any of it at all. If anything, she thought he was just profoundly boring. They hardly spoke anymore because there wasn’t anything to say. Rowan worked– so she had thought– as an accountant. He thought she worked for a fashion magazine. They had little in common, save for the occasional drunken night when they could agree on giving each other pleasure before crashing into a deep slumber.

Apparently they had many more common interests than they ever could have thought, starting with their jobs and lives were a complete and total lie and ending with hidden guns, daggers, and other various tools for murder that lay hidden within their home.

“I like to hunt,” Rowan had told her one afternoon when she wandered into his shed out back. In hindsight, it was a little funny. He didn’t hunt animals, he hunted people. Just like she did.

Gods fucking dammit.

“Are you compromised on this?” Rolfe asked her, leaning his tattooed forearms against his desk while he appraised her. Aelin fully lifted her head, squinting her eyes and looking at him like he had sprouted two heads.

“Of fucking course not. There isn’t any attachment on either side. I’ll put a bullet in his head when he gets home from work.” It was said dismissively, nonchalantly. Like it was just like any other job and hadn’t just become personal on a visceral level. Overkill would be hard to avoid, if only because she was so damn mad at herself for missing all the signs over the last two years. How had she not seen it? The woman who never missed anything had missed something massive, something staring her right in the face.

Aelin glared at one of the wedding photos on the wall of the living room, barely registering the beep beep beep of the oven timer in the kitchen. Her conversations from the day played over and over in her mind as she smoothed the front of her apron and made her way to the kitchen. With shaking hands, she set the dining room table and laid dinner out. The thoughts kept slamming to the forefront of her mind one after the other, and she narrowly missed burning her fingers more than once.

It was like any other job, and she knew that killing him wouldn’t be what did her in tonight. If anything would be her downfall, it would be her shaking hands and the barely concealed rage that still coursed violently through her when she heard the garage door open.

Quickly and quietly, Aelin hung her apron on the hook by the pantry and adjusted the little black dress she wore and the pearls around her neck. Her freshly cut, golden blonde hair was straightened and tucked behind her ears as she walked back to the dining room and began placing his food on his plate. At six pm on the dot, Rowan strolled into the house with his jacket hanging over his arm, pausing to kiss her cheek like he always did.

“You cut your hair,” he noted, tossing his jacket on the coat rack as he loosened his tie. His sleeves were already rolled up to his elbows, and she wondered if he had been sneaking around trying to get dirt on her life all day before coming home to taunt her. Bastard.

“I did.”

“I like it,” he said, pausing by the front window and pulling the curtains back to peer out onto the street. Aelin tensed, hyper aware that she could barely see him in her peripherals. The hold she had on the knife in her hand tightened, ready to bring a knife to the gun fight if she had to, but instead he added, “Trick or treaters will start coming by soon.”

“I’ll turn on the porch light after dinner. The candy is already by the door.” There was a small bit of relief that he didn’t immediately pull a loaded pistol on her, but she didn’t lay the knife down quite yet.

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Smells really good, too. Thank you.”

“Mm. Wine?”

“Red?”

“Of course.” Aelin nodded, finally laying the knife down as she moved toward the wine rack in the kitchen. Behind her, she took stock of every single sound he made, relieved when all he did was pull out his chair and sit down. The towering heels she wore clicked against the hardwood floors as she returned to where he sat, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring with her right hand. Her left slipped under her dress and wrapped around the grip of the small gun strapped to her thigh. The pouring of the wine covered the soft sounds of her dress rustling, and Rowan had little time to react as she shoved the barrel against his temple.

“Trick,” she whispered, leaning around to see his face as she cocked the gun, “or treat?”

Shock blasted through his expression for a single heartbeat before his wide eyes turned to a hard glare. His jaw clenched along with his hands, his knuckles going white around the knife he was going to use to cut his dinner. Now, she figured, he would be using it to cut into her.

“You.”

“Oh yes, my dear husband,” she purred, finger caressing the trigger as she slammed her hand down over his wrist to keep him from driving the knife into her stomach or worse. “Me.”

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slytherhys · 2 years

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Strung-Out Heart II

A/N - I was supposed to post this yesterday and I completely forgot! I'm going to set Saturdays as the official posting day for this fic. I'm still not sure how many chapters long it will be but I'm thinking of around 20 max. We shall see!

TW - strong language, mature themes.

Chapter I

Rowan

The rhythmic bass of a familiar song was the first thing Rowan noticed when waking up – a favourite of Elide’s if he remembered correctly. He wasn’t sure why anyone was listening to it this early in the morning, especially in his apartment building. He only had 2 other neighbours and neither of them seemed the type to listen to the same tunes Elide fancied. His apartment smelled like something sweet, something that clearly didn’t belong there. Rowan tried to think of anyone who could be assaulting his kitchen but the only two people who had a spare key to his apartment was Lorcan, who couldn’t cook to save a life, and his mother who, as far as he was concerned, was still in her own home, a continent away. He couldn’t think of anyone else, but truth be told he couldn’t exactly think at all. His head seemed to have been split wide open and his mouth was dry enough to be concerning. Opening his eyes seemed nothing short of a challenge, especially since the sunlight seemed to be shining directly into his eyeballs – something he had tried to avoid when setting his bed on the darkest corner of his bedroom.

But the second thing Rowan noticed, this time when he finally managed to open his eyes, was that he wasn’t in his bedroom. At least, it wasn’t his bedroom anymore – not since he had moved away and sold it to Lorcan and Elide. He hadn’t last 2 weeks living in it after Aelin had left.

Aelin.

Rowan groaned, burying his head in his soft pillow – Elide’s doing, no doubt. Rowan was holding on to a sliver of hope that he had dreamed her standing in Aedion’s kitchen last night. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened either – the first year after she left, he would dream of her return home. Sometimes it would be a happy reunion; most times it had not. Yet, nothing compared to the real thing. Aelin in baggy pyjamas – a sweater than was remarkably similar to one he had lost a few years ago - her hair loose and draping down her shoulders, beckoning him like a siren’s calling. Everything about her last night had felt too damn appealing, too dangerous. She looked tired, reluctant. Hopeful. Of what, Rowan wasn’t sure. He was only sure she had to leave.

The door of his old bedroom flew open just as Lorcan walked in, a glass of something green in one hand, a plate of baked goods in another. Rowan perked up – Elide owned a bakery on main street and her pastries usually sold out before noon. If she had baked him her sinful cannolis he might just move back into his old room. The idea seemed more appealing by the minute.

“Morning, sunshine.” Lorcan grumbled, setting down the dishes on the bedside table. Rowan could hear angels singing the minute his gaze landed on the cannoli. He would kiss Elide if Lorcan wouldn’t send him flying through the window the minute he touched her. No matter how much Rowan wanted to deny it, he was scared of Lorcan. Standing at almost 7ft (Rowan still doesn’t quite believe that) and being more muscular than anyone his size should ever be allowed to be, Lorcan usually wasn’t one to create trouble – not unless anyone bothered Elide. The only time a rude costumer had raised his voice to the sweet woman, the bakery had gone perfectly still as Lorcan had raised from his seat by the door. Both Lorcan and that man had left through the back door (only one willingly) – Rowan had never seen than man again.

Lorcan sat on Rowan’s bed as he reached for a cannoli and took a bite, fighting the moan threatening to escape his mouth. His friend was already eyeing him with an intensity Rowan didn’t exactly enjoy first thing in the morning, and there was no reason to add to it. “What time is it?” Rowan asked, taking a gulp of the green smoothie Elide had made him and cringing slightly.

“2 in the afternoon.” Lorcan replied softly, and it was incredible how he managed to tell him so many things in that answer alone. It’s way too late to be in bed, his tone implied. What the fuck are you doing in my house? A strong follow up. Lorcan had a talent for silent conversations.

And to be perfectly honest, Rowan didn’t even remember why he was at Lorcan’s place. After leaving Aedion’s place, he had sent a text to Fenrys and met him at his bar. Fenrys had taken a look at Rowan, served him some top of shelf whiskey and after 3 glasses, things started to look foggy. From what he could remember, not even Fenrys knew what had brought him to his bar minutes shy of closing but apparently his sombre face gave Fenrys the right idea – that he needed alcohol. And a lot of it.

Rowan took another drink of the green blob before shoving another cannoli into his mouth. Lorcan kept watching him, silent and broody. He could hear Elide singing a new tune, her lovely voice seeming to ease something inside his chest. Rowan sighed, leaning back against the cushioned headboard. “How did I end up here?”

Lorcan raised a single eyebrow. You don’t remember? It said. Smug bastard. “Fenrys called me at 3 in the morning to ask me if you could sleep here. Said that you insisted on coming here.”

Rowan groaned. Being drunk felt oddly like taking care of a kid you never got a chance to meet. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “I drank way too much. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Lorcan tilted his head slightly to the left, eyeing him with open curiosity. “What happened, Ro? The last time I saw you like this-” Lorcan stopped suddenly, his eyes widening slightly as he muttered a single fuck under his breath. Rowan shared the sentiment. He suddenly got up, his hand shoving his long hair away from his face. “When?”

Not for the first time, Rowan felt grateful his best friend didn’t need an explanation. Rowan still couldn’t bring himself to say the words; to face the facts. Saying it would make it real. Rowan couldn’t deal with real right now.

“Last night.” He swallowed, looking away from Lorcan. He knew what he would find in his expression. Worst of all, he knew he should be feeling the same way. But the truth was, Rowan still wasn’t sure how he was feeling. There was too much noise inside his head to make any sense of it. “I went to Aedion’s to drop off his new equipment and she was just there.” Rowan looked back at his friend. Lorcan’s jaw looked seconds away from popping from the way he was clenching it. “Said she was staying for a while.”

“At Aedion’s?” Lorcan chuckled dryly. “Why didn’t he tell us shit?”

Rowan had asked himself the same question. He wanted to believe his friend wouldn’t lie to him; that he had been just as surprised by his cousin’s visit as Rowan had been.

“Why did you want to come here, Rowan?” Lorcan’s voice was deadly calm, but by the way he was looking at him, Rowan was sure Lorcan knew exactly why he was here; why he had insisted on staying here, of all places, after seeing Aelin for the first time in 3 years. Something that felt remarkably like shame burned inside his chest – so Rowan did what he did best – he ignored it and shoved it under the rug. Getting up, flinching slightly at the throb in his temples, Rowan started getting dressed. His clothes were folded neatly in a white chair and the shame of crashing at his friends’ house threatened to hold him hostage. He owed Lorcan and Elide big time – he would be buying the most expensive bottle of wine he could afford to thank them, that was for sure.

“Rowan.” Lorcan called but Rowan kept dressing. “I’m worried, man. I don’t like that she still holds this much power over you.”

“You and me both.” Rowan mumbled as he put his sweater on.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything, Rowan. Let her do what she came to do and then she’ll leave again.” Lorcan chuckled darkly. “It’s what she does best, isn’t it?”

Rowan flinched; he knew Lorcan’s words were true. He knew he had to be careful not to let him be swept away into Aelin’s web again. It was the last thing he needed. But the reminder didn’t hurt any less. “I’m going to go.” He mumbled, turning to Lorcan.

“Rowan-”

“I’m fine, Lorcan.” He sighed. “I know I was a mess after she left. I know how much both you and Elide helped me stay above ground but now you have to trust that I can manage on my own.”

Lorcan eyed him carefully, a furrow in his brows. Rowan couldn’t blame him for his reluctancy – he was grateful, even. Lorcan had always been a good friend, but the year Aelin left he had helped him heal. He had seen how he had changed, how he had become a different man. It wasn’t a surprise Lorcan was scared – Rowan had scared even himself by the way he had turned his life around for the worst. He would never be able to thank him enough for all of it.

“We’ll always be here for you, Ro.” He slapped his hand against Rowan’s shoulder, making him stumble forward a bit. Rowan cursed under his breath and pointedly ignored the little smirk on Lorcan’s face as he left the room. “But wake up my girlfriend at 3AM again because you’re drunk, and I’ll punch you in the face.”

…

“Holy shit,” Fenrys’ voice sounded over the music playing through the bar’s sound system – Fenrys never played his music too loud, something Rowan deeply appreciated. Especially tonight, considering the throbbing behind his temples. The blond was leaning against the counter, looking relaxed as Chaol served the only customers sitting at the counter. “She’s back?” He asked, taking a sip from what looked like water. It could also be vodka – when it came to Fenrys, everything was possible. Moonbeam leaned against the counter, his voice booming over the music. “I assumed something bad had happened when you walked into the bar like someone had punched you in the dick, but I didn’t even think of that being a possibility.”

Rowan groaned. “Speaking of bar, shouldn’t you be working?”

“What do you think I hired Chaol for?” He shrugged, grinning as he looked around, probably checking to see if there was a customer unattended. Fenrys loved his business, no matter how much he tried to fool people. “Have you talked to Aedion?”

“Haven’t been able to.” He had tried calling, but it had gone to voicemail every single time. It wouldn’t be surprising if the man was purposely ignoring him, especially if Aelin had told him what had happened the night before. Rowan took another sip of his much-deserved glass of whiskey. Sure, he had gotten drunk last night and shouldn’t be drinking again so soon, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Maybe you should drop by his place.” Fenrys suggested, his eyes following the new group of people entering the bar, his mind clearly elsewhere. Rowan shot him an unimpressed look, but Fenrys was already too hooked on the new people to pay him any mind. “Honestly, I haven’t even seen Aedion lately. He disappeared, like, 2 weeks ago.” Fenrys added, only half-invested in their conversation.

Rowan frowned. Actually, he hadn’t seen Aedion in the past two weeks either. He had texted earlier this week for Rowan to drop off his boxing equipment at his place, but other than that he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his friend. “You think something’s going on?” Rowan sat up straighter, a knot taking form in his stomach.

“I don’t know, man.” Fenrys looked at him. “But it’s not like him to disappear without saying something.” He shrugged before making his way over to where the new customers were waiting.

Rowan leaned against the back of the tall wooden chair, running a hand through his hair. He had forgotten he had cut it; forgotten that Aelin had never seen him with shorter hair prior yesterday. He wondered if she liked it. He mostly wondered why he was wondering such a thing.

Rowan figured he would have to talk to Aelin eventually. Aedion was a big part of Rowan’s life and Aelin was a big part of his, whether Rowan liked it or not. When Aelin had left, Aedion was his only connection to her. Her cousin would never reveal much, but it had been enough. Even if that first year had been clouded by pain and anger, Rowan had still cared about her. In the first months, Aedion would offer simple, yet frequent, updates. She’s okay. She found an apartment. She has friends with her.

It hurt all the same, knowing she was creating a new life after leaving her old one with such ease. But it was better than knowing nothing at all. The updates eventually became less frequent, and, to a certain extent, Rowan was grateful for it. Aelin would always be the love of his life, but he needed to move on – at the time, Aedion seemed to be the only one realising that.

Last time he heard, Aelin was working for the Adarlan newspaper, just 5 hours away from Orynth. Not that she told him, no. Aedion had; one morning over coffee as casually as one talks about the weather. Rowan had almost choked to death.

He wondered if Aelin asked about him. He wondered if Aedion told her about Lyria and about Remelle. He hoped he did. He also hoped he didn’t. Rowan groaned; this was exactly why Aelin needed to stay away. There was no need for him to be thinking about such things. He had a business to run, friends to care about and if he ever needed other types of…entertainment, he could always send a text to a few friends of his. It was simple, casual, harmless. Everything Aelin was not.

Rowan grumbled, drinking the rest of his liquor in one gulp, and setting his cup down on the counter with way too much force. Shaking his head slightly, he raised his head, only to find Fenrys watching him with a funny expression on his face. He pointedly ignored it.

Looking back to his now empty glass, Rowan wondered if he should order another one. He definitely didn’t want to end up at Lorcan’s again tonight, but tomorrow was Sunday and the parlour was closed for the weekend. Maybe one more glass wouldn’t-

“Shit.” He heard Fenrys mumble, Rowan’s head snapping up to find his friend. He had a whiskey bottle in his hand, stopping just half-way to where Rowan was. But he wasn’t staring at Rowan or at his cup. He was staring behind Rowan’s back, right at the door. Rowan felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned around, not at all surprised to find her standing there, looking like a deer in headlights.

Aelin, wearing a short white dress, her hair up in a ponytail, her cheeks flushed from the cold September air. She was frozen at the door, her eyes looking from Rowan to Fenrys to Rowan again.

“H-hi.” Her raspy voice made Rowan snap out his trance. He took a deep breath and turned to Fenrys, his eyes pleading.

Yeah, he was going for another fucking drink.

#rowaelin fic #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin fic #tog fic #tog #tog fanfiction #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #rowaelin au #rowaelin month #strung out heart #rowaelin month 2022

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forensicated · 6 months

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Smiffina Episodes - Episode 268

We start where the last episode left off - but suddenly now there's lots of people around for Smithy to yell at to get back in the flats and out the line of fire whilst he checks both Kirkby and Gabriel.

Spotting the sniper running from the roof, Smithy takes the chance to run towards the building to try catch him, running up the fire escape. Unfortunately he doesn't get chance to as by the time he gets there the sniper has potentially disappeared inside the building and baricaded the only way Smithy could get inside from the roof.

Gabriel is now back on his feet, wanting to get to Smithy to 'help' him search but Adam appears and orders him to the hospital before he can. At the station, Andrea rings Bruce to tell him about the shooting, interupted by Jack and Neil appearing before she can continue. Kirkby has been shot in the lower back and is critical. If he survives, he may never walk again.

Rowan and Adam join Smithy on the roof and discuss the shot and the sniper. Smithy finds a boot print near the door that leads to inside the building. "... It ain't mine."

Gabriel tries to discharge himself but Jack refuses to let him,. telling him he could have been the target and he has to stay overnight - with an armed officer as guard.

Andrea asks Smithy if he's cross with her because he told Gabriel about him being the one to report the accusation to MIT. Smithy says he's bigger things to worry about - like the sniper, and feeling guilty for 'letting' the sniper get away.

Gabriel speaks to Kirkby before he left, reassured he saw nothing. Morell arrives just in time and asks why Gabriel shouted for them to get down before the shot. Gabriel plays dumb, he doesn't know why he did it... perhaps something caught his eye, perhaps it was birds flying. He refuses to answer. Morell tells him that he's likely the intended target given Kerry's murder. He gives his armed officer the slip and leaves the hospital.

Uniform are having to wear body armour and go around with SO/CO19 officers. CID aren't - it's because it appears they're targeting uniform... but given Kerry wasn't wearing her uniform at the time, surely CID should be supported too if they're working on the idea that it's the police who are the targets?

Sheelagh and Leela are directed by neighbours to a man who they say 'is as shady as you like, involved in all sorts on the estate and has a gun'. They go to speak to him... with Sheelagh initially more interested at accusing Leela of stabbing her (Sheelagh's) friend at Barton St in the back than speaking to the suspect. For a woman who used to be Sgt until a few weeks ago, Sheelagh is laughably clueless at people management.

The man tells Sheelagh and Leela that they dislike him and call him a nonce and put faeces through his letter box. He admits he uses a water pistol to scare children off but doesn't have a gun.

Gabriel charges round to the 'friend' who has been working in allegience with him, furious that he dare do a job off his own back without Gabriel setting it up in advance. "You only shoot the people I tell you to!" The sniper admits he had to leave his van behind because Smithy run after him and 'messed everything up'. He's leaving because if they find the van and look into it, it's a link back to him. He tells Gabriel he shot Kirkby because Gabriel was arresting him and he so he thought he was scum. Gabriel asks why he started branching out alone and the sniper tells him he wanted to teach Gabriel a lesson. He tells him he messed up when he shot Kerry using his gun and his bullets and it would be him with his head in the noose if they found him. He's fed up of Gabriel calling the shots and wants to be the one making the decisions. He knows the truth about Gabriel being David Kent and pretending to be his brother - he's dangerous... not least when he holds Gabriel at gunpoint. Gabriel uses manipulation to talk him round and tells him that he'll go to the station and find out what they know - and make sure it doesn't come back on the sniper.

Gabriel meets Rowan at the scene of the sniper assault and questions her about the van that they're looking at. He asks if there's any leads. Rowan makes it back to the station before Gabriel and tells Smithy about her meeting with him. Both are suspicious about what Gabriel is up to. Gabriel returns to the sniper and tells him they've got a witness, a bootprint and are looking into the van after finding where he shot from. The sniper tells him to sort it out - if he goes down he'll take Gabriel down with him.

Smithy questions Gabriel once he finally arrives, on why he's hours later than he said he'd be. He questions if he's suffering delayed shock and tries to send him home. He tells him he knows what it's like to be shot at and that it shakes you up. Gabriel spaces out for a moment and mentions Kerry's death - Smithy questions it and Gabriel quickly covers saying he meant Kirkby and got confused. Smithy's even more suspicious, trying to work through what it means.

Gabriel thinks he's covered his back for the mean time, though that theory is blown out of the water when he walks into a room to find Suzie and Ken watching CCTV footage of the sniper hiring a van - right as the sniper turns to give a full view of his face on the screen.

#Alex Walkinshaw #Smithy #Dale Smith #Andrea Dunbar #Natalie J Robb #Sheelagh Murphy #Bernie Nolan #Gabriel Kent #Todd Karty #Rowan Morell #Tanya Franks #Episode 268 #Smiffinalong #the bill

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theoriginaltortuga · 1 year

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Things Unsaid at 2 am

A/N: My first It Lives fic. What happened when Devon woke up the morning of ch. 18, or one version anyway

Pairings: Lucas x Male!MC (Devon) but barely mentioned

The dark surrounded him. It wanted him back. It wanted to trap him in the woods forever. Devon tried to run but he couldn’t move. He tried to scream but he couldn’t get any air. He could feel it envelop him, unraveling him back into shadow.

He launched himself forward out of heavy blankets. He needed to get away, needed to run–

Warm hands wrapped around his arms, keeping him still.

“No!” Devon tried to thrash away, but his energy was gone.

“Devon, it’s okay! You’re safe, I promise.” Noah’s voice broke the remnants of the dream, leaving Devon gasping and crashing down from a terror high.

Noah was the only real thing in the pitch black room. His pale features were the only evidence Devon was out of the dream. His breath and his touch were grounding. It made his skin crawl.

“Let…go.”

Noah snatched his hands back as though Devon had burned him. “Sorry.”

They sat silently in the dark. Regret tried to fill Devon’s chest, but he didn’t let it. Noah had murdered him. He could deal with some hurt feelings. Devon looked away from him, twisting and untwisting his hands in the itchy flannel sheets.

Devon had been fidgety before he’d died. Always fiddling with his jewelry at school, then his guitar picks or anything else he could get his hands on at home. He wondered if his parents had kept any of his things. His dad had hated his guitar and his posters and his jewelry. Maybe they’d thrown everything out.

Devon glanced back up at Noah, who was sat in the chair beside the bed, watching the windows, his jaw clenched. Ok, maybe he did feel bad about hurting Noah’s feelings. Murderer or no, Noah was still the guy who’d dedicated weeks, months, or longer trying to bring him back. Didn’t that count for something?

“Could–can you help me up?”

Noah almost shot to his feet. “Sure, yeah. Where do you want to go?”

Devon flailed a hand at the chair. “Switch?”

Noah transferred him over easily, which was odd. He couldn’t have grown that much muscle in…however long Devon had been gone. Maybe being resurrected had shaved off a few pounds. That had to be it.

Noah sat perched on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not fucking really. “No.”

Noah nodded. “I can get Lucas for you, if you want.”

Lucas had been gently banished to the couch after almost falling asleep while carrying a bowl of oatmeal the night before. Telling Lucas it wouldn’t help anybody if he crashed on the drive to Dan’s had been the winning argument. Devon didn’t want to undo all his persuasion for nothing. He was fine with Noah there. Really.

“It’s fine.”

Noah nodded again and they lapsed into silence.

It wasn’t fine. All the tension and awkwardness and shoved down feelings were like torture, actually, but Devon couldn’t wrap his head around his feelings about Noah.

On one hand, Noah had murdered him. He’d looked Devon in the face and stabbed him. Blood loss plus organ failure made for a quick death, but not a pleasant one and he could remember every second. On the other hand, it was Noah. His dork of a friend who critiqued cooking shows like a judge, wouldn’t take off his stupid beanie for the end of the world, and brought him back from the dead.

He almost wished Noah was an evil asshole, it’d make hating him easier.

Devon sighed. He was so tired, but sleep would only bring more nightmares. “Can you tell me about Rowan?”

“What about her?”

Devon shrugged. “Anything. I know her name but not much else.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Noah didn’t need to know that.

Noah relaxed into the bed. “Well, she showed up about a month ago, her and her friend, Amalia…”

Devon let himself get swept away by Noah’s voice. If he could focus on Noah’s life instead of what he’d done, focus on the present instead of the past, maybe he’d be able to ignore the little voices in the back of his mind saying ‘Did you really hate me enough to kill me?’ and ‘Am I back for me? Or am I back for you?’

#ilw #ilitw mc #ilw fic #it lives within #noah marshall #turtle writes

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wiltingdecay · 2 years

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"You're about to fall asleep on your feet." Rowan @ Morgan perhaps?

sleepy dialogue prompts

Rowan laughs softly under their breath as Morgan turns her face into the crook of their neck, mumbling something that sounds vaguely similar to "I'm not even tired."

"A mhurnín, you're about to fall asleep on your feet," they chide her gently, their arm around her waist tightening its grip as they lead her away from the dance hall, lights and music fading into the distance. "Come on, no arguing. Let's get you into bed."

Save for another quiet grumble, Morgan falls silent. Her own arm reaches up to wrap around Rowan's shoulders, hugging him close to her side as they walk. "It was good, though, right?" She asks quietly after a brief silence. "We had fun?"

Rowan grins, running their hand up and down the bare skin of her arm to chase away some of the chill the cool night air brings. "So much fun," he agrees, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead. "I never would've come out here by myself. Thanks for inviting me along with you."

The dance hall they'd just left is new, having only opened its doors a few weeks ago, and scarcely a stone’s throw from Rowan's shop to boot. As much as they enjoyed dancing in private or amongst small groups of friends, Rowan still felt a bit anxious about doing so in front of larger crowds. All those eyes that could potentially be on him... initially, he'd shuddered at the thought.

But then Morgan, beautiful, enchanting Morgan, had caught wind of the new establishment, and she'd been over the moon with excitement. Rowan was hardly surprised - she loves dancing even more than they do. Many of the quiet dates they'd had in their respective homes or Morgan's quarters on her father’s ship or secluded parks or the beach at dusk had started, or ended, with dancing in each others' arms.

“I know you’re nervous, η φλόγα μου, but I’ll be there with you the whole time!” She’d told him beseechingly, her jade-green eyes sparkling with excitement as she entwined her fingers with his. “Yeah, there’ll be a lot of people there, but that just means they’re less likely to be paying any attention to us.We’ll just be another couple in the crowd.” Her smile had turned flirtatious, then, and she’d sidled just that little bit closer. “And besides, if anybody does start looking at us, it’s probably just because they’re jealous of me for having a cutie like you on my arm.”

Really, how could Rowan ever say no to her?

The first few minutes after they’d arrived at the dance hall had been nerve-wrecking, with Rowan fidgeting uncontrollably and tensing up every time somebody brushed up against him, but Morgan stayed by his side, his hand clasped in hers.

“Just tell me if you really want to leave and we will,” she’d whispered in his ear. “I won’t be upset.”

He’d considered it, but knowing how much she’d been looking forward to this, he wanted to indulge her in at least a few dances before they left. It was the least he could do for her. The dazzling smile on her gorgeous face as she led them onto the dancefloor was well worth it. Everything else started to fade into the background as they danced together. There was only the lights and the music and Morgan. The rest of the dance hall could have been gawking at them the entire time, and Rowan would have barely noticed nor cared. All that existed was Morgan’s smile, her laughter, her hand in theirs.

They’d danced and drank for hours, stopping only to head over to the restaurant next door to have dinner, before going straight back to the dance hall for the rest of the night. It had been magical watching Morgan dance, seeing her in her element, how happy it made her. Rowan was overjoyed to have been part of it. But no matter how wonderful the night was, it had to come to an end eventually, and Rowan figured it was time for that ending to come when, at around three in the morning, they went back to the bar to get some water and Morgan started nodding off in her seat.

As much as they’d wanted to carry her home straight away, they knew that Morgan disliked being fussed over or being treated as though she were too delicate to take care of herself, so they’d settled for gently coaxing her out the door and offering her their shoulder to lean on if she needed the support.

(Besides, they’re more than a little tipsy themself, and though they’re certainly strong enough to pick Morgan up, they don’t quite trust themself not to accidentally stumble into a wall and smack Morgan’s head off the stone).

Thankfully, the walk back to Rowan’s shop is brief, barely a ten-minute stroll. As much as she’d protested that she could stay awake a little longer, her eyes are barely staying open by the time they arrive outside the door. She snuggles closer to Rowan, burying her face in their neck and breathing deeply as they rummage in the bag around their waist for their keys.

“You smell nice,” she murmurs. “Like...” She pauses, breathing in their scent again. “Like peach cobbler.”

Rowan chuckles quietly, wondering if she can feel the flush creeping up their neck against her cheek. Probably. Maybe that’s why she’s doing it. “Thanks,” they reply, slotting their key into the lock and turning it. “It’s a new soap I made. I can wash your hair with it in the morning, if you’d like.”

He feels Morgan’s lips twitch as she smiles against his skin. “That’d be nice.”

Once the door is opened, Rowan helps Morgan up the steps and into the shop, where she almost immediately collapses into the worn, comfy armchair in the corner. Rowan covers their mouth to hide a mirthful smile as they crouch on one knee in front of her to unlace her shoes, giving the red marks they’ve left on her skin a quick rub with a spark of healing magic to help ease the soreness.

“Are you hungry at all? Or thirsty?” He asks, resting his hands on her ankles ad he glances up at her. She looks exhausted, her make-up smudged from rubbing her eyes and her hair tumbling down messily, but she also looks contented, and comfortable, and still so beautiful that it makes Rowan’s heart swell. “Or d’you wanna just go to bed?”

“Hmm...” Morgan purses her lips in thought, absent-mindedly reaching out to tuck a few stray curls behind Rowan’s ear. “Just bed, I think. Maybe I am a little sleepy.”

Rowan grins up at her, catching her hand and kissing it. “You go on up there if you can manage the stairs by yourself,” they tell her, moving out of her way before starting to unlace one of their boots. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

They watch fondly out of the corner of their eye as Morgan stands, wobbling a little and resting a hand on the top of Rowan’s head to regain her balance, before making her way up the stairs only somewhat unsteadily. Once their boots are off, they leave them beside Morgan’s shoes and go upstairs as well, joining her in the bathroom where she’s at the sink, washing off her make-up in front of the mirror. Rowan does the same, wiping away their eyeliner before removing their facial piercings and giving them each a quick wash before leaving them on the counter.

Morgan finishes up before Rowan does, and busies herself with standing behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and her face buried in the nape of his neck.

“I love your hair,” she tells him, reaching a hand up to wind the curls between her fingers. “It’s so soft.”

Rowan grins shyly, catching her eye in the mirror when she peeks over his shoulder and laughing when she playfully sticks her tongue out at him. “Go raibh maith agat, a stóirín. While you’re there, would you mind taking it down for me? Pins are digging into my head.”

Morgan nods, and seconds later Rowan’s hair falls down from the half-braid crown he’s had it pinned into all night, tumbling down to his shoulders. He tugs the short braid loose as Morgan removes the rest of the pins, tipping them out onto the counter once she’s done. She giggles softly when she looks at him in the mirror again.

“You look so cute with your hair down, Ruadhán,” She whispers in his ear, kissing the back of his neck. “I could just eat you up.”

Rowan snorts, face flushing pink as they turn around, taking her hand and leading the way out of the bathroom. “Maybe later. For now, bedtime.”

They change quickly, Rowan into one of the large cotton shirts they usually wear to sleep, Morgan into a silky blue robe she’d gifted Rowan when they’d started dating, and climb into bed, sinking gratefully into the sheets. Rowan snuggles closer to Morgan until her back is flush with their chest, winding an arm around her waist.

“Goodnight, η φλόγα μου,” Morgan yawns, already sounding inches from sleep. “I love you.”

Rowan smiles, their heavy eyelids sliding shut as they press one last kiss to her shoulder. “G’night, Mórnkan. Love you too.”

#asks #fern's writing #when the sun loves the moon #rowan aisling #morgan drakos #your honour i love them #hope i did ok writing morgan ^^

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explorerspack · 3 years

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this is so fucked up rowan’s spent like 200 years trying to “not get too close to people” and now she “cares” about her “friends”

#rowan was spicy tonight i love her so much #the fact that her attempt at bargaining with the preacher wasn't 'how do i get out of this' it was 'give me like TEN seconds to HEAL'#granted she didn't HAVE a good way out of it bc she'd already used misty step but. STILL #she sure also didn't actually have healing!#rowan of a few weeks ago would have been doing everything she could to leave them and save herself!#i think this was like. a turning point for her #she almost lost all of them! and it scared her WAY more than she thought it would!#so now she's like. 'anyway we are all sticking together in the feywild right?? right??????'#'luna what happened to you is SO fucked up and you SHOULD get revenge'#'lorelei do you have People we can reconvene with' and it's WE!!!!!!#giving callisto the BIGGEST hug #even naia! even avina! she does CARE!#dnd is NOT about coworkers!!!!!#c:faeme #cha:rowan

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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Rowaelin Month - Day 9

prompt: co-hosts with chemistry

extras: podcaster!rowaelin, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff!

word count: 2k

The podcast had originally been Lysandra’s idea.

She had deemed their regular conversations dissecting each of their dating lives too entertaining to keep to themselves and so it had begun. It hadn’t been very successful and they had only managed to wrangle a small number of subscribers, mostly consisting of their friends and reluctant family members. They’d had fun, but when Lysandra moved to the Southern Continent they hadn’t bothered to keep it up.

Then Aelin got drunk with Fenrys and his new roommate Rowan.

Her drunken self had thought it a fabulous idea to whip out her phone and hit record when Fenrys had begun to weave his story of the beautiful Asterin and her ruthless rejection, Rowan chipping in with quips that always made her cheeks feel a little warmer. That and the sparkle in his green eyes each time he looked at her.

She’d been intrigued by Rowan on day one. He was everything Aelin felt herself drawn to in one big package. Tall, handsome, tattoos, wicked sense of humour, didn’t take any shit, constantly gave her shit. She was charmed.

Until the podcast had taken off.

The inebriated episode featuring Fenrys and Rowan had landed her with a few thousand subscribers. And she had wanted to continue.

Fenrys had rejected her outright, claiming he didn’t need any more public humiliation, the Asterin story had been enough and she understood, but Rowan…

She’s not sure why she even asked Rowan. They weren’t friends, the episode they’d recorded had been the first night they met and they hadn’t spoken since but she’d laid the offer on the table anyway. Despite the fact that hearing all about Rowan Whitethorn’s dating exploits made her stomach twist.

What she knew of Rowan had told her he’d say no too. He hadn’t given her the impression of being particularly easy going, or that spending time with her in the absence of Fenrys would have been something he would consider. In fact, she’d wondered if he’d thought her desire to chat about something as frivolous as dating would be somewhat shallow or childish.

But then he’d said yes.

And so began their tradition. Every Thursday after his final class of the day and Aelin gets home from her office, she uncorks a bottle of wine and makes dinner. Rowan turns up at eight pm sharp each week, armed with a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake and his lilting and charming accent. They set themselves up at the desk in Aelin’s spare bedroom, each with a set of headphones and a microphone and they talk.

That started eight months ago.

Now they have hundreds of thousands of listeners, people who for some unknown reason like to listen to Aelin and Rowan. Aelin doesn’t get it, but here they are.

Aelin tucks her feet under her thighs and rests the arm holding her wine glass along the back of the sofa. They’ve just finished this week’s episode and she’s not ready for Rowan to leave just yet. He turns to her at the motion, a brow cocked in questioning. He looks good, very good.

The light from her TV highlights the cut of his jaw and plays off the silver strands of his hair, flopping onto his forehead. The green of his henley perfectly displays his golden skin and she’s desperately searching for glances of the swirls of ink that peek out of his neckline each time he shifts.

She thought that by spending more time with him her crush would fade. Except now she definitely has a thing for someone who has turned into one of her best friends.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, so aware by now of her moods. He knows when to wait and when to push her, when to joke and when to keep it real.

Aelin shrugs and the motion dislodges her neckline from her shoulder to part way down her arm. Rowan’s eyes dart down tracking the motion but flash back to hers once she speaks.

“I’m thinking about where we go next,” she says slowly. “I don’t know about you but I’m not dating very much recently and I wonder if I’m running out of funny dating stories.”

Rowan’s lips twitch and she uses the time before he speaks to desperately wonder what’s going on in his head. Then he moves his hand to her knee, his touch a comfort and a thrill, and her mind can only focus on that. Can only focus on how good it feels for him to touch her. She doesn’t have the capacity to worry where his head is at when his hands are on her.

“It’s not just you,” he says, on the same wavelength as her as always. “I don’t find myself on many dates anymore.”

He says it without even a whisper of shame, like he’s confident in why that is.

“I can’t tell if I’m thinking too much about the podcast,” she admits, “or if I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

He’s silent, which she usually uses as her prompt to continue, but his hand stays on her knee.

“I have an idea,” she says, shocked again as his eyes meet hers. “It won’t last forever, but I think it could give us a few episodes at least. We turn to other people. We get listeners to share their experiences, their horror stories, their life lessons, their advice, their failures. We give our comments, we compare them, we’re funny. I think it could work.”

She’s so nervous for his thoughts, his opinions matter to her, she wants his approval.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he says as a soft smile creeps onto his lips, tugging up his cheek and she wants to press her lips right there. “We can get people to submit their best stories, review them, add our own additions and commentary and we’re good for a while.”

He pauses, as though there’s more he wants to say. His hand on her knee squeezes and she craves more of his touch, wants his hand to slide higher, wants his fingers to entwine with hers.

Then he says, “I have an idea for an episode.”

She cocks her brow but he shakes his head.

“I need to think it through some more but I’ll let you know as soon as I have a more solid idea.”

It works and she’s relieved her lack of desire to date anyone who isn’t six foot four, silver haired and named Rowan Whitethorn hasn’t needed any expansion and hasn’t so far caused any major problems. Apart from the fact she finds herself getting lost when he talks, unable to respond right away because she’s too busy staring at his lips, his hands, his everything as he speaks.

She’s sure he’s probably noticed but he kindly hasn’t commented.

The idea to get content from their listeners leads her down a path she’s somewhat shocked to realise exists. She’s been trawling twitter to find their content and interacting with a lot more of their listeners and it’s led her to a small corner of twitter dedicated to her and Rowan.

She scrolls and scrolls through tweets that are convinced she and Rowan are either married, fucking or in love. Or if not yet already, they need to be. Aelin doesn’t disagree necessarily, but it’s weird to know people are thinking that, let alone tweeting it.

@/crochanqueen: Aelin’s laugh every time Rowan says something slightly amusing…. girl you’ve got it bad. He’s not that funny.

Gods, she hopes Rowan hasn’t seen these tweets. She needs to watch when she laughs.

“Next submission,” Rowan says, leaning forwards and speaking into his mic. He’s in his usual chair across from her and she has almost unlimited access to the sight of him in all his glory. No wonder it’s hard to concentrate when they record. “This guy says hi, I’ve got it bad for my best friend.”

Aelin swallows. She definitely needs to watch herself for this one.

“A tale as old as time,” she says with a breezy laugh.

“Right,” Rowan says, a tightness to his voice that wasn’t there before, before he turns back to his phone to continue reading. “We’ve known each other for a while now and we spend a lot of time together just the two of us and it’s as easy as breathing. We get along incredibly well, she makes me laugh and she makes me smile. She brightens my day.”

“Gods, this is so sweet,” she coos and Rowan gives her a tight smile. Okay, she’ll let him finish.

“She’s my best friend,” Rowan continues and Aelin bites her lip. “I want more but I don’t want to ruin what we have if she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Hm,” she says, twisting her hands on the table in front of her. She has to manage this one carefully, so as not to give too much away. “Is there any indication of whether she feels the same way?”

Rowan glances back to his phone. “He says; there are moments where I think she feels the same, there are moments where I think I could press my lips to hers and she’d kiss me back. There are moments she looks at me and it looks as though it would be impossible for her not to feel the way I do.”

“She sounds like a lucky girl,” Aelin says almost wistfully.

“You think?” Rowan asks, and she’s not sure his question makes sense.

“Don’t you?” she asks. “If they have these moments, moments where he could kiss her and she’d kiss him back, the moments where they get lost in each other's eyes, I don’t think those things can be made up.”

She ignores the way she always feels as though she catches herself in these moments with Rowan. She ignores them and plows straight on through.

“If he’s having these thoughts enough that they feel like a moment, they probably are.”

“Damn, Aelin.” Rowan smiles across the table. “Any advice for the poor guy?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” she says smoothly, “he has to tell her how he feels. Don’t waste any more time, if you’re reading her this way and she’s your best friend I think there’s very little chance you’ve got this wrong. If you’re listening to this,” she says leaning forwards so her voice is clear in the recording, “get the girl. Take a chance, tell her how you feel. Start small, ask her to go on a date.”

Rowan nods, the movement a sharp jerk but a smile plays on his lips. He looks up to her, his eyes meeting hers.

“Alright, Aelin. Go out with me. A date.”

She laughs, a bright sound, not allowing herself to jump to conclusions. “Is that what it says?”

His eyes flick back to his phone before he locks it and slides it onto the table. “It doesn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s very confused now. Is he playing with her? Has he noticed the way she feels? Surely Rowan isn’t so cruel to mock her like this.

“There’s no submission, it’s me, it’s you. Go out with me Aelin?”

Her mouth drops open.

“Go out with you? You like me?”

She’s stunned okay? Cut her a little slack.

He laughs, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “This was quite possibly not my best idea,” he says. “To go about it like this. I thought it would have worked well.”

“You’re serious?” she says, a smile creeping into her voice.

“As a heart attack.”

She pulls her headset off, needing to feel this moment just the two of them. Rowan does the same, vulnerability shining in his gorgeous, green eyes.

“Rowan,” she breathes. “I’ve been into you since day one. I thought there was no way you were interested in me.”

She stands, rising from her chair and almost floating over to him until she stands between his legs. She gently rests a hand on his shoulder as she leans down. His hands come up to her waist and pull her onto his lap.

She settles with a smile as she reaches up to cup his cheek in her palm.

“I’ll edit this out tomorrow,” is all she says before she closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to his, sealing it with a kiss.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #i hated this at first lol #finally think i saved it #rowaelin au #rowaelin fic

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

Monstrous Morning Brews

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Halloween Lattes

Rowan keeps asking himself why he orders the same, overly-sweet, coffee every day when he prefers it black and bitter. Oh, the golden-haired barista—that’s why.

Fic inspired by the title image 👻🎃

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1838 words

*******

“Large pumpkin latte for Rowan!”

Rowan’s head snapped up as the barista’s voice rang out through the small café. He carefully finished setting down his laptop and books before striding towards the pickup counter.

Aelin was leaning onto the counter’s other side, her golden blonde hair pulled up in a precarious bun as she smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you,” he grabbed the drink and offered her a crooked smile of his own.

“I gave you a ghost this morning, what do you think?” she was grinning as he finally dragged his eyes from hers and looked at the image gracing the top of his coffee.

This was what the café was known for—well, what Aelin was known for, seeing as she was the one to pitch this particular menu item. Specialty designed latte art. Not that latte art was her idea, or new by any means, but Aelin was the one to suggest that the café start allowing customers the choice of images, letters, or patterns on their drinks, for an extra charge of course.

After the first few Instagram posts circulated of various designs, the café soon had long lines of people waiting to get their custom lattes. These days, with Autumn in full swing, many of the Halloween themed images were in high demand.

The first time Rowan visited the café it was only because he’d passed out the night before at his friend’s apartment and desperately needed caffeine before making his way home. This place wasn’t remotely close to either his house or to campus, but he found himself driving the longer commute just to see a certain barista.

He’d been struck by her golden hair and bright blue eyes the first time he’d come in and she’d barely been able to piece his order together because Rowan had somehow reverted to his flustered by a pretty girl teenage phase. Which was why when she’d asked what design he wanted on his latte (when had he ordered a latte?) all he’d managed to say was surprise me.

Watching her eyes light up and a wide grin spread across her face, Rowan decided he would let her choose his design whenever he ventured to the café and bought one of the special lattes.

‘Whenever’ then becoming every day.

But it wasn’t the artistic coffees that brought Rowan back day after day, it was the sharp-tongued, cheerful, stunning barista who smiled at him whenever he walked in. Aelin, who got excited whenever she could draw something new on his drink; who always tried striking up a conversation with him despite his multiple failed attempts at not looking foolish in front of her; who, today, had put a cute little ghost on the top of his coffee.

He chuckled at the little ghost that shook as he gripped the mug. “It’s boo-tiful”

Rowan froze, regretting his stupid pun before the words even finished spilling out of his mouth. What? Why in Hellas’ name would he make such a corny joke—

Aelin laughed and grinned wider but was cut off from replying as another customer approached the till.

Rowan hastily walked back to his table, careful not to disturb the intricate design atop his drink. As he glanced around the café, he was happy to note that besides his, there were only two other tables occupied.

He set the ghostly latte next to his computer and situated himself for the next few hours.

First, Rowan took out his earbuds and turned his study playlist to shuffle. He hated the loud, chatting crowds that sometimes overtook the café.

Next, he pulled out a few bags of snacks, some grapes and crackers. He wasn’t a fan of the overpriced too-sweet pastries on display.

Finally, Rowan looked at Aelin and watched as she ducked into the back and out of sight, before stealthily pulling out his thermos. It was filled with freshly brewed, hot, black coffee. Because he absolutely, without a doubt, hated pumpkin lattes.

***

As soon as the leaves had started changing, the café’s menu was overtaken by pumpkin, caramel, and cinnamon.

The rich aromas were comforting, especially as the weather got colder, but that also meant his already-unwanted latte was now overflowing with the sickly-sweet artificial pumpkin flavor. He knew Aelin loved it; he’d seen her make her own drinks while on shift to know she adored the pumpkin lattes and hot apple ciders.

Maybe that was why he still pretended to enjoy the monster-covered drinks.

In the last few weeks, Aelin had given him coffees with pumpkins, bones, and leaves, as well as more intricate designs like a wolf howling at a moon or a witch on a broomstick.

Rowan would buy a thousand sugar-filled lattes if it meant seeing her proud smile as she handed over his coffee.

Aelin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as she walked over towards his table and swept some dust and old crumpled wrappers from the ground. “Not thirsty?”

Not for coffee. He shook off his immediate thought and fought the blush that rose as she tilted her head and waited for his answer. Gods, he hadn’t been this horrible with girls since high school.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?” Smooth.

Her lips quirked to the side as she nodded at his latte which was as full as it’d been when he picked it up more than an hour ago. “Are you not thirsty?” Then her brow furrowed as she asked, “Or was something wrong with it? I could make you another one—”

“No!” His eyes flew wide as her brows flew up at his quick response. “Uh, I mean, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just, uh, I got distracted.” To prove his point, Rowan plucked up his mug and took a large sip. It took everything in him not to cringe at the sugary taste.

“Oh, okay,” Aelin smiled, apparently believing his role of latte-enthusiast. “Well, if you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back.”

That’s when he noticed that he was the only customer left in the café. He smiled at her again and she paused.

“I just noticed you have dimples,” Aelin told him, grinning. “They’re cute.” Then she winked and walked behind the counter and through the back door.

Rowan sat frozen, blinking slowly at the spot Aelin had just been standing, trying to remember how to breathe. She noticed his dimples. He didn’t even know he had dimples. She thought they were cute.

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he couldn’t have repressed his broad grin even if he tried.

In an effort to calm himself down, Rowan reached into this bag and drew out his thermos to take a long drag of the bitter coffee. He’d just taken a second large gulp when the back door swung open and Aelin flounced into the main sitting area.

“Sorry, I forgot to grab the broom—” She halted three steps from him as her eyes darted between his face, the thermos of black coffee, and the barely-touched latte. “I—what?”

Rowan guiltily lowered the thermos to the table, swallowing the coffee as he met her accusatory glare with his own wide-eyed gaze. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed committing a felony, not drinking homemade coffee in Aelin’s café.

“I, uh, well,” he stammered.

Aelin merely crossed her arms and raised a single golden brown as she waited for him to say something. When it became clear that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—explain, she sighed.

“Rowan, is that coffee?”

“Yes.”

“You bring your own coffee to a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” He could’ve sworn she was fighting a smirk.

“Can I ask why you bring your own coffee to a coffeeshop? Especially when you buy a coffee every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, surely red from his embarrassment, and winced. “Yeah, you can ask that.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping towards his table to lean her hip against it. “Okay. Why do bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, when you buy a coffee every day?”

Rowan was tall enough that even while sitting he was able to easily look her in the eye as she stood at his table. Theoretically easy, yes; Actually easy, when he wasn’t sure his embarrassment would ever fade away, no. He rubbed a hand down his face and loosed a heavy sigh.

This was it, he had to come clean. She would find out he’d been lying to her and only buying lattes as an excuse to talk to her despite never having the balls to actually say anything in his favor, and she would call him creepy and ask that he never return. But she was staring at him expectantly, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that he had no defenses when it came to Aelin.

“Here’s the thing,” he began slowly, “I don’t actually like lattes.”

Aelin blinked. Twice. “But you get always get a specialty latte.”

He winced. “I do.”

She was silent for a minute and Rowan mentally kicked himself and was already preparing to pack up his stuff and leave when she tossed her head back and laughed.

Aelin laughed.

Rowan gaped as the girl he’d been hard-core crushing over laughed relentlessly at his confession. He couldn’t even be embarrassed or confused because he was too startled by how beautiful she looked when she laughed

“You,” she gasped through another laugh, “come in here every day and pay for a drink you hate—why?”

Rowan opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but he stared at her as she calmed down and beamed at him, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to confirm it.

Drawing up a scrap of the bravado he’d lost every time he entered the café, Rowan cleared his throat and looked Aelin in the eyes as he told her, “Because it gives me a reason to talk to you, and you look so happy making those drinks.”

By the way her smile grew impossibly brighter, Rowan knew he’d said the right thing.

“That is endearingly stupid.”

His face fell but before he could utter another word, Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. The soft kiss short-circuited Rowan’s brain and he remained sitting as Aelin quickly darted back behind the counter and started pushing buttons on one of the machines.

The next thing he knew, Aelin was back at his table with a large cup of fresh, black coffee. “Just so you know,” she grinned as he blinked up at her, “I liked making those drinks, but I liked the customer who ordered them more.” With one last wink, Aelin disappeared back behind the counter, the light scent of pumpkin following in her wake.

Rowan’s grin didn’t falter for the rest of day once he noticed ten scribbled digits and a small waving ghost on the side of his cup.

*****

Taglist:

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin #rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fic #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin au #halloween #coffee shop #throne of glass #tog

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slytherhys · 2 years

Text

Strung-Out Heart VIII

A/N - A few things: 1. Keep in mind this is a FLASHBACK chapter. 2. Only part of it was beta'ed so please forgive me for any mistakes 🙏 3. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I've been tweaking it for days to make sure Rowan's every emotion was as clear as possible because it's fundamental for this chapter so I really hope I delivered something worthy. Enjoy ♥

TW - mature themes, strong language, mention of an abusive relationship

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Rowan – 2 years ago

One year.

It had been twelve months and twelve days since Aelin had left, and Rowan still couldn’t wrap his head around what the fuck had happened. How had he gotten here? Where, exactly, had everything gone so tremendously wrong? A year ago, he had thought he was finally making all the right choices, finally moving forward with his life with the woman he loved beside him. Now, looking down his empty bottle with a frown, surrounded by his closest friends in what was supposed to be his birthday celebration, he felt more like he was 17 than his recently made 27.

He stared at the offending bottle, wondering if his friends would get mad if he left early. He hardly felt like celebrating, and he was pretty sure Lorcan was purposely giving him half-empty beer bottles.

He should probably switch to whiskey anyway – it was his birthday, after all.

All of his friends sat around one table at the back of Fenrys’ bar – Lorcan, Elide, Aedion and his boyfriend Kyllian and Fenrys. Even Chaol, a recent addition to their friend group Rowan wasn’t entirely sure he approved of, would drop by whenever he had a break from the bar. Everyone was having fun, and that was what mattered, he supposed. Even if he felt like getting shitfaced alone and maybe finding someone to go home with. Heaven knew he could use the distraction.

“To Rowan,” Elide’s sweet voice called from his left as she raised her glass of red wine. “Here’s to new beginnings – even in your old age.” She smirked, giving him a side-hug as the rest of the table cheered, jeering and chuckling as they took sips from their drinks. Rowan frowned at his drink again, but Lorcan handed him a new bottle before he could protest. A full one, too.

Weird.

“You okay?” His best friend asked just as everyone else started discussing Elide’s new bakery. It had only been open for two weeks but it was already doing amazing numbers. Rowan wasn’t surprised – it was a known fact she was an amazing baker.

“Yup.” He said simply, taking a sip from his new bottle. Lorcan frowned, probably not convinced, but Rowan had stopped trying to be convincing a long time ago – he no longer had the energy for it.

Sure, he should be celebrating. He had a new apartment, Cadre’s Ink was doing better than what they hoped for and just two days ago he had gone on an okay date with a very nice girl – but those things barely felt gratifying. Everyone avoided talking about the reason why, exactly, that was, but it hung over them, like a haunting presence that refused to leave them alone. Even if Elide toasted to new beginnings, he wasn’t sure she truly believed her own words. Hellas knew he didn’t.

He should let it all go – it was nothing he didn’t already know – but his mother had always told him his stubbornness would bite him in the ass one day, and it seemed like it applied to this as well.

Maybe he was a masochist – Elide had accused him of such just a few weeks earlier when she was helping him pack his things so he could move out of their old apartment. Maybe she had a point. Maybe there was no use in keeping most of the things he had kept, but his life with Aelin had been a fundamental part of who he was and getting rid of those memories felt too much like getting rid of a part of him he wasn’t willing to let go. Not yet at least.

“Are you still going to Wendlyn for Christmas?” Lorcan asked casually. Too casually. His friend knew better than anyone that Rowan was getting tired of constantly being coddled by everyone, but it never stopped him from constantly monitoring him. Rowan supposed he should be grateful for the friends he had but his birthday was clearly not meant to be a happy occasion.

Would she call him? Maybe leave a message?

Would she even remember it was his birthday?

Rowan shook his head, trying to get rid of his intrusive thoughts as he refocused on his friend. “Yeah, I think so.” He shrugged. He missed his family and being around them would probably do him some good. The Gods knew he needed a change of scenery.

“And…” Lorcan eyed him, lowering his voice so only Rowan could hear his next words. “Have you thought about moving?” He cleared his throat just as Elide’s and Fenrys’ laughter boomed around them.

Rowan quickly shook his head, dismissing the idea completely. “I’m your partner, Lorcan.” He took another sip, wishing for something stronger to numb the anger bubbling inside his chest. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Lorcan clearly heard what he wasn’t saying, and Rowan swallowed the bitterness that threatened to claw its way out. His anger had clearly made him entirely too transparent in recent months if even someone like Lorcan could read him that easily. “I would understand, Ro.”

“No.” He simply said, leaving no room for debate. “I’m not leaving you.”

Lorcan sighed, sounding tired. “Maybe Wendlyn would do you some good, though.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m going there on Christmas.” He shrugged, smirking at his friend. “Do you want to get rid of me that much?”

Lorcan ignored his attempt at humour. Hellas, it was his birthday – couldn’t he just give him a break? “We’ve talked about opening a second location,” He shrugged, leaning against his chair, feigning serenity Rowan doubted he possessed. “Why not do it in your hometown?”

“It’s not happening, Lorcan.”

“Just because she left doesn’t mean you can’t leave too Rowan.” His jaw clenched even if his friend’s words were cautious. Gentle. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Will you fucking drop it?” He exploded, the joyous laughter around them ceasing suddenly as all eyes fell on him. Fucking great. “I’m going to get another drink.” He muttered, leaving before anyone could stop him.

When he had told Lorcan he was thinking about going back home he didn’t expect his best friend to be so eager about seeing him leave. It had been a passing thought; the consequence of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. Sure, it had sounded logical for a second – there wasn’t anything really keeping him in Orynth, so he saw no point in staying. But much like most of his thoughts these days, it was meaningless banter, as if testing his thoughts out loud to see if they felt right.

Truth be told, nothing felt right but staying in Orynth. Even if Aelin wasn’t around anymore, his entire life was here. He had a career – a purpose – his friends and his own apartment, however empty it might be still. Despite everything, he had created roots in Orynth and since the only person that might have made him consider leaving had left herself, nothing now could possibly drag him out of this city.

Rowan ordered a glass of whiskey which Chaol promptly served him before attending to his other customers, but a hand on his shoulder interrupted him before he could take a sip. He fought the need to growl, instead smiling as he noticed it was Elide eyeing him with open curiosity. Rowan waited for the questions, the coddling, but she gave him nothing but a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure you should be drinking whiskey?” He tilted his head. “You’re supposed to help me tomorrow, remember?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, smiling softly at her teasing. All the men were helping out Elide since she couldn’t afford to hire someone else, and tomorrow was his turn. Even if he had to get up at an abnormal hour, Elide knew damn well he wouldn’t slack off on his duties.

“I’m 27, El.”

Elide pursed his lips, taking the stool by his side. “I know, old man. That’s why I’m concerned.” She smirked and Rowan shook his head, laughing for the first time that night.

“Lorcan means well, you know.” She said as she signalled Chaol for a refill. “He can be a brute,” she shrugged. “But he’s looking out for you.”

“I know that.” And he did. He was just being an ass for the sake of it, apparently. “I’m just having a shit day.”

Elide nodded, wrinkling her brows as she stared at the wooden counter. “Some days are worse than others.” She smiled. “We can all try to help you but no one really knows what’s going inside your head, Ro.” She leaned against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as they remained staring ahead of them. “But that’s a choice you’re making on your own.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She chuckled at his indignant tone. “We’ve been trying to help you all year long and you’ve done nothing but push us away, Whitethorn.”

“It’s easier.” He said softly.

“I know,” She stood straighter as Chaol approached with her favoured wine, serving them with a smile and immediately leaving. “But you haven’t even tried.” She took a sip, a knowing glint in her brown eyes as she watched Rowan. “We’ve all been through shit. You know that.” She nodded towards the table where her friends were. “Fenrys can’t keep a relationship even if his life depends on it, Aedion has been ignoring his boyfriend all night long and Lorcan spent years of his life in an abusive relationship.” She said quietly, her eyes unseeing as she stared at their friends. “We all have all sorts of fucked up advice we could give you and yet you refuse us the honour.” She smirked slightly, blinking once before turning her eyes back on Rowan.

“And you?”

“Well, I’ll be here when the good parts begin.” She grinned, but a sliver of sadness crept into her eyes.

Rowan huffed, shaking his head as he took another sip of liquid courage. “And when do we get to that?” It was a rhetorical question. Kinda.

“You’d have to try and get over the bad.”

Rowan glanced at Elide, noting her smug smile as she took yet another sip. “When did you get so wise?”

She hopped off the stool, sending him a grin that lit up the entire room. “My wisdom has always been my greatest asset.” And then she was walking back to her boyfriend; to their friends, who were all celebrating his life with a happy smile on their faces.

So he went as well - the least he could do was try.

..............................

Birthdays could actually be fun if one stopped thinking about all the ways their life had gone to shit, Rowan thought with a chuckle as he finally managed to open the door to his new apartment. It still smelled slightly musty despite the open windows, and the walls were painted in a hideous yellow that made his eyes hurt but for the first time since he had bought it, it felt like home.

His room had already been painted sage-green, the smell of paint lingering in the air as he navigated through the card boxes that were standing as furniture until he finally unpacked his things, and even though it still lacked any decoration at all, it already felt like his room. The mattress was on the floor, since the bed frame he had ordered earlier that week was yet to arrive, but there were books by its side and his reading glasses on top of them next to a picture frame of his family. It wasn’t much, but they were pieces of him; of his new life.

He bent down, sitting on the mattress as he opened the closest box, where he knew a warmer duvet was stored. Maybe opening the windows in October hadn’t been the greatest idea, but he’d rather freeze than have a musty apartment. He pulled a wool duvet, a gift from his mother when he first moved to Terrasen, but a soft thud made his head snap back to the box. A book – a small paperback edition of Persuasion by Jane Austen. It wasn’t his book, but Rowan knew it had been on the bedside table, collecting dust. Elide had probably added it to the box without thinking twice, but now Rowan wondered if there was a reason…

He blinked once. Twice.

He’d promised Elide he would try just a few hours ago, but maybe this was a sign that he should try and talk to her. Just one last time. Maybe she would hear him and maybe he could kiss her again. He liked that idea. A lot.

Before his sluggish brain could catch up, Rowan was looking down at a picture of a smiling Aelin, his thumb hovering above the call button. Hellas, he had missed seeing her face. Why had he stopped? He couldn’t remember right now. He put his phone against his ear, letting the seconds go by as he tried to think of something clever to say.

Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he had a good feeling about this.

He sighed, leaning against the wall, and ignoring the way his stomach seemed to be turning. “Hi, fireheart.” He closed his eyes, the name sounding sour on his tongue. Did she even like being called that anymore? He highly doubted it. “It’s my birthday.” He added lamely. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Lorcan doesn’t like it, though.” He chuckled quietly, clearing his voice before he tried again. “Aedion told me you found friends and a new apartment, so I suppose that’s a good thing. I wonder if you ever miss me though,” he huffed, thinking of all the texts and calls he had hoped for and never received. “But I guess I know the answer to that.”

He hummed, suddenly feeling tired. “You were my best friend before I ever even kissed you, Aelin.” He sighed, suddenly feeling glum. What the fuck was he doing? “I don’t know what’s the point of this call, but I guess I wish I could see you again.” A pause. “Hear your voice.” Was his speech slurred? “It’s been a year and I’m still not entirely convinced I can live without you, fireheart. Do you think I’ll ever learn?” He would soon go mad if he didn’t.

Rowan stayed silent, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Would she even hear this? Or would she get the notification and delete it as easily as she had deleted him from her life? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but maybe it was a good thing future Rowan would be the one dealing with the consequences of his present actions – mainly considering he was seconds away from barfing.

“I’ll always love you, Aelin.” He said to the dimly lit room, promising himself it would be the last time he ever said the words. “Even if I’m not sure you deserve it.”

..............................

Rowan stared at his phone unblinking as he sipped from his third coffee that morning – an incredible perk of helping at the bakery, he supposed. Elide sat across from him, her eyes flickering between the counter, his phone, and his face.

He knew he looked like shit – he felt like it too. He had avoided looking in the mirror before he left his apartment and rushed to Elide’s bakery, asking for a cannoli and a black coffee in the hopes they would, somehow, make all his shitty actions more bearable.

Needless to say, they didn’t.

It was the middle of the morning, the first break they had since Elide’s opened, and even if he was exhausted, dragging his feet with every step he took, he suddenly wished for more customers to flood the bakery; to numb himself in exhaustion so he wouldn’t feel absolutely revolted with himself.

“Ro?” Elide called gently, her hand reaching for his and pushing his phone down on the table. Rowan looked up at her, hating the understanding smile on her face.

“It didn’t send.” He simply muttered.

The first thing Rowan had done when he got to Elide minutes before she opened shop was tell her exactly what he had done last night, incapable of dealing with his heavy conscience. Elide had frowned and though he could see the curiosity in her eyes, she refrained from commenting; refrained from talking to him at all if he was being honest.

Somehow, he preferred her pitiful smiles to her silences, so he’d take what he could get.

He hadn’t been able to check his phone all morning, dreading whatever truth lied inside of it, and the more he stared at the screen the more he wished he was as oblivious as he had been those blissful five seconds when he had woken up. All good things in his life were short-lived, apparently.

“What?”

“It didn’t send.” He looked outside, unable to meet her knowing gaze and focusing on the heavy pour instead. November had come with a vengeance, it seemed. “Apparently the number doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Oh.” Elide frowned, opening her mouth as if about to say something when the door of the bakery opened again, the bell above it ringing pleasantly and signalling the arrival of more customers. Rowan stood up, giving Elide a kiss on the top of her head before turning to leave, but she stopped him before he could leave – his shift was over, anyway. “Is it time, then?” She asked, but Rowan furrowed his brows in confusion. “To move on, I mean.”

But Rowan wasn’t sure, so he sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before leaving the bakery, cursing under his breath as the rain seemed to come down even harder than before. He eyed the bar on the other side of the street. Was Fenrys already in?

Rowan rushed to the other side of the street, pushing the (thankfully) open door and letting it close behind him, drowning out the sounds of the storm. The lights were on, but there was no sight of Fenrys other than the sound of his voice.

“…when I can visit. Give me time, okay?” He sighed and Rowan walked towards the sound of his friend’s voice. “I don’t think I’m ready to see your new life, yet.” A pause followed by a low chuckle. “I’m sure I will, but it’s not him I’m concerned about. Are you happy, Aelin?”

Rowan went still, the breath in his lungs making a quick escape as he felt the colour drain out of his face. Was Fenrys talking to Aelin? His Aelin? Was that even possible? She changed numbers – he knew that for a fact now – and Aedion had told him she barely even talked to him.

“Not really,” Fenrys’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “But he’s surviving.” Rowan felt his stomach twist. Were they talking about him? The thought left a tart taste in his mouth. He didn’t want them talking about him. He didn’t even like the idea of Aelin being concerned over his well-being. Not anymore.

All the emotions of the previous night seemed to freeze inside his chest, locking away all the hopes he had foolishly nursed over a cursed book.

He's surviving.

And she was enjoying her new life, wasn’t she? Inviting old friends to see her after she had left without a single goodbye, gone in the middle of the night like a coward. Rowan reached for the ring he, for some reason, still carried with himself, squeezing the cold metal between his fingers, feeling the bite of the small diamond against his skin.

He walked away silently, ignoring the rain as he returned to his apartment. He’d text Fenrys later, but he couldn’t be with his friend right now.

Aedion had told him months ago that Aelin wasn’t coming back but some foolish part of him had refused to believe it. He had waited by their apartment for days, hadn’t sold it for months until he couldn’t stand the sight of it. He still felt his every cell looking for her every time he was in public. Was he cursed to live the rest of his days like this? Rowan refused.

She had clearly moved on and instead of doing the same, Rowan had held onto every bad omen like they were proof of her return. Could he blame his friends for their pitying gazes? He had spent an entire year going round in circles, waiting for her because he’d convinced himself that’s what you do when you love somebody. But what had he gained from it all? An unused engagement ring and an empty apartment decorated with cardboard boxes containing memories that didn’t feel like his anymore.

Rowan entered his apartment, ignoring the fact he was dripping all over the wooden floors, and walked to his room, opening the closet and reaching for the tiny velvet box he had kept inside.

He had carried his wishes all year around, holding onto hope that Aelin would return to him, like he always believed she meant to, and that maybe they could restart again. But Aelin, in true Aelin fashion, had dropped the fatal blow. She was living her life, reaching out to old friends and moving on swiftly. Why shouldn’t he do the same?

Rowan looked at the ring one last time before setting it back in its original box, closing it with a resonant snap.

It was time to move on.

…………….

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

Text

Slipped away - chapter one

prompt - single parent @rowaelinscourt

“It’s cold,” Fenrys complained, sitting on Rowan’s new couch.

“We are in the north, you dumbass.” Lorcan snapped. “Of course it’s colder than what you’re used to.”

“Doranelle is in the North too.”

Lorcan took a deep breath, apparently, he wasn’t feeling very patient today. “I don’t know, Fenrys, it might be because we are on a whole other continent, maybe?”

Rowan snorted at his friends, Fenrys was playing dumb just to annoy Lorcan and as always, it worked. They were enjoying their last day of rest before their first day of work tomorrow. It wasn't a new job, not really. The company they worked for had just moved from Doranelle to Orynth, and of course, Rowan and the other employees had to move too.

Rowan knew that with the opening of the new Valg Industries headquarters the next few months would not be smooth sailing, but he believed in himself. Maeve was so confident that she even promoted him. It was a new beginning for Rowan and he was happy about it, his life in Doranelle was the perfect definition of dull. Not that he hated it, he was just glad to be away from his cousins. He didn’t hate them, they were just so… meddlesome.

Rowan walked into his kitchen and opened his fridge, empty. He cursed under his breath. The few bottles of beer he had last night ran out very quickly, they didn’t even have leftovers of the pizza they ordered yesterday. Which was a problem because Rowan was starving and there was no way he would order food for the second night in a row, it had already bothered him to do so yesterday.

He checked his watch, six in the afternoon. He was pretty sure the grocery store didn’t close before seven, he had little time if he wanted to go there. He needed to be quick. “Going shopping, be gone when I come back,” Rowan told his friends as he picked his car key. He needed some time alone but he knew they would probably still be there when he came back, his friends weren’t ones to listen.

He slammed the front door behind him and got into his car. It still smelled new, the leather still a little too stiff under Rowan's body. He had gotten the car yesterday, he had decided that if he was going to change his life, he would do it all the way. Nothing in his life in Doranelle set foot in Terrasen except his friends and his job.

Rowan lived in an upscale residence in downtown Orynth. Between his family's money and the money he was making even before he was promoted, he could afford it. He didn't want to live in the apartments that the company offered to its employees, he needed some peace and quiet.

So Rowan took a house that was too big for him, in a suburb full of family, as if he wasn't almost thirty and wasn't still alone. He had never felt so out of place, but he would get used to it.

He had chosen the opposite of the life he had until then, wanting space. He had left to forget.

When he pulled into the grocery store parking lot, Rowan could have sworn he saw a familiar face. He blinked and it was gone, he shook his head. How could he recognize anyone if he had never been to Terassen? He needed to sleep.

He got out of his car and shivered slightly. Maybe Fenrys was right, it wasn't cold but it was definitely colder than Doranelle at this time of year.

He walked into the store, it was large. Everything in Terassen looked big. The houses, the buildings, the stores... Rowan could get used to it.

He took a basket from the entrance and went straight to the vegetables. The store was almost empty considering the time of day, he could hear a couple of kids laughing in the background but otherwise, everything was quiet. It felt good to be away from the world.

He selected enough vegetables for three days, preferring to shop for short periods rather than a whole week. It made less mess and allowed him to control what he ate. That's one of the things he needed, control.

"Gotcha!" He heard a woman's voice laugh rather loudly.

"Noooo!" A little girl said and Rowan heard her laugh and ran. Gods, children were loud.

A few seconds later, something hit Rowan's legs. He looked down to find a little girl. She was a brunette with blue eyes. She laughed and stood up. "Sorry," she said before running off again to lose whoever was trying to catch her, but it was too late. A tall blonde lady came running up and threw herself on top of the little girl, grabbing her under the arms and throwing her over her shoulder. The little girl screamed with laughter and tried to struggle as the adult spun around. "Stop!" the child screamed but continued to laugh.

Rowan felt like he was intruding but he couldn't stop the tip of his lips from rising slightly. The adult stopped spinning but did not let go of the child, the little one wrapped her arms around the woman's neck and hid her head. "Hey, little monster, did you apologize?" She asked, her eyes still on the little one. Rowan couldn't see her face with the hair hiding it. "Huh?" She shook the little girl slightly but she refused to look at her.

"She did," Rowan said, not wanting the little girl to get into trouble. When the woman looked at him, his heart stopped beating and his whole body froze. It was impossible.

Did the gods hate him that much? What had he done to them for them to punish him like that?

Her eyes widened and he noticed her body going still, her hold around the girl tightening. Her mouth opened and then closed.

As he had been years before, he was struck by the intensity of Aelin Galathynius’s gaze. These blue and gold eyes were mesmerizing, had always been and always will.

His only thought was that she looked older, but since he had last seen her when she was nineteen it wasn’t surprising. She looked like a woman now, and womanhood suited her. She was wearing a white shirt and black skirt, a simple outfit for a working woman, and yet Rowan couldn’t help but stare longer than necessary at her body. If she had been beautiful seven years ago, she was magnificent now.

He wanted to punch himself in the face, so much work to forget about everything that happened, so much work to ignore the guilt and pain just to be ruined by a meeting in a grocery store.

“Rowan,” she breathed.

“Hi, Aelin.”

The little girl looked at him and he noticed everything she had in common with Aelin. Her eyes first, and the same nose and lips. They looked so similar.

Suddenly he was struck by the truth standing in front of him. While it had taken everything in him to try to forget about her, Aelin had moved on. And she had a daughter. Aelin had a life and if the laugh she let out a minute before was any indication, she was happy.

“What are you doing here?” He blurted.

A snort. “What am I doing in a grocery store?”

“In Orynth.”

“This is my hometown.” She said, her voice so tight he couldn’t guess what she might be feeling. It had always been so damn hard to read her. Orynth was her hometown? How come he never knew that? He knew she was from Terassen, her accent betraying her, but didn’t know exactly where. He knew so much about her but at the same time so little. That little truth hurt. “What are you doing here?”

“I moved. For work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Fuck, that was awkward. “How old is your daughter?” He asked, nodding toward the small girl playing with Aelin’s hair. Aelin looked at her and her expression softened a little.

“Oh, no. She isn’t my…” She took a deep breath. “She’s Aedion and Lysandra’s daughter. I’m just babysitting for the night.” Right, Aedion. That’s why the small girl looks so much like Aelin. “Remember Aedion?”

Of course, he did, last time he saw the man Rowan got his nose broken and a black eye. He wouldn’t forget his old friend so soon. But Rowan didn’t care about that, right now he only cared that Aelin, in fact, didn’t have a daughter. It was easier to breathe suddenly. “Yeah.”

“But she’s four,” Aelin said and he knew it was only so she had something to say. Talking was awkward but the silence was worse.

Before he could say anything else, someone interrupted them by hitting Aelin’s legs, hugging them. This girl was blonde, Ashryver blonde. Gods, how many children did Lysandra and Aedion have?

The youngest paused on the ground and did not waste time before leaving from where she came. Aelin seemed to forget Rowan's entire existence as she knelt down to face the child, though she looked even tenser than a few minutes before.

"Hey, pumpkin, what's going on?" She asked softly, delicately taking the girl's grip to force her to look at her. "Tell me."

"Asper pulled my hair!" The girl cried and Aelin smiled.

"Did you try to tickle his neck?" She asked, making Rowan choke. Aelin didn’t spare him a glance. He wanted to ask her why she wasn’t punishing this Asper for pulling hair but he guessed Aelin would beat him up if he questioned how Aedion chose to raise his children. “You know how sensitive he is.” She smiled at the child. The girl sniffed heavily and Aelin used her sleeve to dry her tears. "Go back over there, I'll be there in two minutes." The child nodded briskly and before she left, she turned her head to Rowan.

His blood ran cold as green eyes fixed on him.

She looked like Aelin on the little one before, of course, but not only that. Did she... No. Lysandra had green eyes too. Rowan could have sworn that Lysandra's eyes were much lighter, but he hadn't seen her in seven years. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.

"Hi!" She said with a big smile. She was missing a tooth in the front, but that didn't take away from her charm.

Rowan swallowed, "Um, Hi." He managed to smile but he couldn't help that she looked too little like Lysandra.

“Are you a grandpa?” The girl asked and Rowan choked. “Only grandpa has grey hair.” She smiled and looked proud of herself. Silver, his damn hair is silver, not grey.

"Go ahead, Helia," Aelin said before Rowan could answer, her voice firm. She pushed the little one toward the alley away from Rowan. Aelin stood up when the little one was gone and his eyes shot to hers.

"It was nice to see you again," she said but he knew she was thinking the exact opposite. Rowan's heart was beating so loudly that Rowan could hear it pounding in his ears.

"Aelin," He called to her, stopping her in her tracks. " Just how... How old is she?"

"Bye, Rowan." Her voice left no room for questions, but he didn't care. He didn't care about what happened in college and now wasn't the time to start.

"Answer me." Not a question and she knew it. He could swear he saw the gold ring in her eyes flutter, a sign he had learned to recognize as anger. Well, let her be angry, he deserved answers.

"Ace, is everything okay?" A man with nearly black hair and sapphire blue eyes asked him. A boy a little taller than Helia was sitting on the man's shoulders and when Rowan saw his green eyes...

He had to be wrong.

"Aelin?" The man asked again as Aelin hadn't looked at him yet, her gaze still on Rowan.

"Yes." She replied with her voice cold. "My friend was just leaving, right?"

The way she said the word "friend" was anything but friendly. Fuck, he wanted to yell at her, he wanted to demand answers now, but he didn't. The two little girls were behind Aelin and the man, watching what was going on.

"Answer my question first."

"Get out." She gritted through her teeth.

"Why do you have your angry voice, Mommy?" The little boy asked and suddenly Aelin's eyes softened and she looked at the boy. She grabbed him by the underarms and took him in her arms.

Mommy.

Her son.

Clearly not the son of the man next to Aelin. He looked about six, maybe even seven.

No. That was impossible. It was only one night. One night he had spent the last seven years regretting...

“Mommy’s not angry.” She smiled as she caressed her son’s hair. Their… No, her son. For all Rowan knew, Aelin only had a thing for men with green eyes. It meant nothing. “But she’s busy right now, go back to the car with uncle Dorian, okay? Then we’ll eat pizza, that’s your favorite, right?” The three kids cheered and Aelin gave her son to the man, Dorian.

“You okay?” He asked, touching Aelin’s shoulder. Rowan didn’t know why but he wanted to slap the man.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in two minutes.” She reassured him and he nodded, letting Aelin’s son on his shoulder as he held the two girls by their hands and walked back to the parking lot. Rowan wanted to stop him, wanted to ask that boy and girl how old they were but they were just kids. He couldn’t scare them. This was between Rowan and Aelin.

“I deserve the truth.”

“You don’t deserve shit. Not after what you did.”

“It was between me and you, not between me and-” He was cut off by her.

“There is nothing between you and them. Do you understand me? Nothing.” Them. So the girl…

He couldn’t take it. She had made it clear already, deep inside he knew the answer to his question but he needed to hear her say it. “Are they mine?” He finally asked and if looks could kill, Rowan would be buried already.

“They are mine.”

Why did she have to be so fucking complicated? He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger inside him but it was so damn hard. “Am I their father?”

Both of them were breathing heavily and Rowan was glad for the empty store now, not wanting to cause a scene. “No.” Her voice was lethal and Rowan’s mind froze. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. But they looked so much like him… “If your question is whether or not you knocked me up, the answer is yes. But you are not a father. Never been and never will be to them.”

They were his. Rowan’s entire world stopped and he wasn’t sure how he kept standing. He was a father, no matter what Aelin said.

“How could you hide this from me? How could you take them away from me?” He was screaming now. He didn’t care about causing a scene anymore, he didn’t care about anything but the two kids in a car outside. “They are my kids!”

“You don’t even know their fucking name!” She was screaming too, cheeks red. Fuck, why did she always had to be the most attractive when she was angry? He hated her so fucking much. “I am the one who’s been raising them alone for almost seven fucking years!” She didn’t look alone, not with that Dorian by her side.

Suddenly, he knew Aedion didn’t punch him for what he and Aelin shared the last night he saw her. He had punched him for getting his cousin pregnant. He knew Aelin hadn’t been honest about what happened between them after the sex or he would have been dead by now, so now he was sure it was because of the kids. He had deserved it, deserved more than the five punches Aedion managed to give Rowan before Fenrys and Lorcan separated them.

“I will die before I let you treat my children like you treated me. Get out of Terassen, nobody wants you here.”

She left storming out of the store without her groceries and Rowan was frozen. He knew he should go back after her and apologize, he should beg her for a chance to know his kids but he couldn’t move.

He had children, twins. And Aelin had been raising them alone because of him, because of what happened.

He was so fucking screwed.

He didn’t care about what Aelin told him, he wouldn’t go anywhere. It was too late to save what could have happened between him and Aelin, it had been too late since the night she left his apartment in tears. But it wasn’t too late for his children and he would fight for them.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #slipped away

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Midnight Cravings

so, i actually wrote most of this in july but never finished it and decided to fix it up for todays prompt bc i was feeling a lil lazy lol. and i think its one of my faves, especially the ending.

2.2k words

cw: none

enjoy!! :)

It was just past two in the morning and Aelin was wide awake. Not due to a mountain of paperwork, or a nightmare or one of her kids needing her. Aelin was wide awake because she was absolutely starving.

The type of starving it felt like she'd never eaten a day in her life. Like her stomach was going to eat itself.

Her stomach growled again, louder than before, and beside her, his voice muffled, Rowan asked, “Is that your stomach or the wind outside?”

“Shut up,” Aelin mumbled, as her stomach continued its song. Gods, why was she so hungry? She practically devoured the fruits in the fruit bowl just before bed, she had a healthy serving of dinner, and a large slice of chocolate torte for dessert.

But here she was, close to eating her damned pillow to sate her starvation.

Aelin glanced over towards her mate, his back to her, and she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Rowan,” she started to say, but Rowan cut her off.

“I'm not going to the kitchens.”

She pouted, although he couldn't see her. “Please?” she knew that if she used her manners, then he would do just about anything.

But it didn't work. Not just yet. “There's some fruit in the bowl.”

“I ate them all.” He sighed heavily, knowing that he was losing this conversation. “Please? I am your mate, your wife, the mother of your children.”

Rowan snorted. “Really? I was starting to suspect that the three silver-haired children were Lorcan's.”

Her hunger nearly disappeared at the thought of that. “Don't be gross.” Reaching over, Aelin kissed the tip of his ear, smiling as he shuddered in pleasure as she nibbled on it. “Please?”

Rowan sighed heavily, knowing that he lost, and Aelin barely hid her smile. “I'll go,” he said. “But only if you join me.”

Her smile did disappear at that. “But the bed is so warm.”

“Exactly. If I have to leave it, so do you.”

“Fine,” she mumbled reluctantly, but quickly perked up, realising that she would be getting food. Rowan was a much better cook than her. Aelin used to have basic cooking skills, but with being Queen and then becoming a mother, she never cooked anymore and really had no need to; not with multiple cooks under the palace roof. She did try a few years ago as a treat for her family, but everything turned into a crisp and wasn't even suitable for the dogs in the kennels.

Scrambling out of bed, the Queen and King of Terrasen tied on their robes and put on their slippers. Aelin loved the sight of Rowan looking so domestic, it was ridiculous how much she loved it.

Since Isolde was only six months old and far too young to be left behind, Rowan put her in the wooden carrier to take with them into the kitchens, their movements silent as the grave as they transferred their youngest from her crib and into the crafty carrier—Isolde was the only one of their children that slept soundlessly through the night at such a young age, and loathed to be woken up. As Rowan did that, Aelin checked in on Alder in his room, their son a little over three years old, but he slept like a log and Aelin knew that he wouldn't wake up at any point when they were gone.

As they left their chambers, Aelin nearly ruined all their good work and almost woke up their other children when she bit out a curse at the sudden leg cramp that shot up her right calf. Rowan glanced at her, asking if she was okay, and after a moment she was, although she was left a little dazed at the suddenness of it all.

Aelin's legs had been cramping randomly of late, but she didn't notice anything of concern. If it continued, she would go to Magnolia and see if anything could be done about it. The last thing Aelin needed was to fall ill, she had far too many things to do with winter arriving in a few weeks. She did know that if anything was wrong with her, that she could rely on Rowan completely.

Aelin's stomach growled for the umpteenth time, the sound lasting for a good minute before it settled. Isolde fidgeted in her sleep, but did not wake.

“I think your stomach was just trying to talk to me.”

“It was,” Aelin agreed. “It said that we need to hurry the hell up or it's going to disintegrate.”

“We better do as it says then. It'd be cruel to subject Terrasen to a hungry Queen. No one should suffer as I do when you're starving.”

“You make me sound horrible.”

“You are,” he said, humour dancing in his dark eyes. “And not just when you're hungry.”

Aelin mumbled under her breath. Rowan decided to pretend not to hear her, even as he fought a smile.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the kitchens, Rowan placing Isolde onto the counter closest to them. Aelin rushed towards the bowls of fruit, grabbing an apple and a pear, eating the fruits simultaneously. She missed the small, private smile Rowan gave her as he went to the pantry, asking her what she was in the mood for, one eye on their child. But still, she slept and Rowan for a moment, wished that all of their children had been like that, but knew that there was no point in complaining when they all slept quietly now.

“Something filling,” was all Aelin could think of to say. But after a moment decided on an omelette, filled with bacon, mushrooms, onion, red bell-peppers and carrot. As she and Rowan prepped the ingredients—with Rowan wanting his own omelette—Aelin contemplated in silence, her brows furrowed as she chopped up the carrots.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan asked when he noticed his wife's expression.

“Just trying to remember the last time I was this hungry. I've been like this for at least a week and a half.”

“I've noticed. You haven't had this big of an appetite for a good number of years.”

She didn't comment on that, lost in her own world. “And my legs have been cramping lately too. I haven't injured myself. Have I been sleeping in strange positions?”

“No, you're sleeping just fine.”

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I'm just stressed for the winter preparations.”

“Possibly, I know that you worry a lot for the people during winter.” They both did, as the winters in Terrasen were brutal. Each year there was always a small number of people that passed due to the cold for a number of reasons. When those lists made their way in Aelin's hands, it always hit her hard, her guilt a palpable thing, even after Rowan would tell her that it was in no way her fault.

But that wasn't the reasons for her consuming hunger and leg cramps—Rowan had noticed the change in her scent weeks ago and when he noticed, he thought that Aelin would too. But she was completely oblivious and he didn't want to spoil the surprise, although it was getting harder each day not to say something.

However, he couldn't help but count back the weeks to the day of conception. He was fairly certain that it was when Aelin had been reading a particularly steamy novel on the window seat in their sitting room and jumped on him like they had never had sex before when he had come to ask if she was joining him in bed.

It would fit in with list of unusual places they have conceived their children. Elentiya had been in the library (either in the archives or in Aelin and Rowan's private nook, neither were sure), Norrin against an oak tree (which they discovered after they have calmed down that the Little Folk had watched the entire encounter, with Aelin becoming stuck between wanting to laugh or hide under a rock), Alder against one of the many palace chimneys, and Isolde in a linen closet.

Maybe one day they would conceive a child in their bed like most people did.

They got to cooking, with Rowan standing behind Aelin and guiding her with the wooden spoon and plating their midnight meal before it burned into a crisp. Isolde babbled in her sleep as the sounds of cooking reached her, but still slept. It wouldn't be long, however, until she woke up to be fed. Aelin placed their youngest by her feet as they sat down at the small dining table in the far corner of the kitchen where the workers took their breaks.

The smile on Aelin's face as she bit into the fluffy omelette was certainly worth being woken up in the middle of the night.

However, her fork stilled in mid-air when she was halfway done when realisation dawned on her.

Finally.

“I'm pregnant,” was all she said, her Ashryver eyes growing wide. Rowan didn't bother to hide his smile. This was why he didn't say anything. It was always worth it when she revealed those beautiful words to him. “Rowan, I'm pregnant. The last time I was this hungry was when I was pregnant with Alder and the leg cramps are from Norrin's pregnancy. And all the fruit I can't stop eating is just like when I was pregnant with Isolde. How haven't I noticed anything?”

“You've been busy,” Rowan said, reaching over to take her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

“You knew, didn't you?” Aelin asked, her eyes narrowed just slightly.

“I may have noticed.”

“You should have told me.”

“I like it better when you come to the realisation yourself,” he said simply.

Aelin shot out of her seat and sat on his lap, a pretty smile gracing her face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers playing the the hair at the nape of his neck. Rowan wound his arms around her waist and kissed her on the cheeks, the tips of her nose, the corner of her lips and then her mouth.

Aelin hummed contentedly and kissed him back. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“We're insane.”

Rowan laughed deeply at the sudden statement. “What makes you say that?”

“We're having a fifth baby. Lorcan and Elide only have three and I always thought that they'd have at least a dozen, but they don't and we're about to have five. That's insane. We're insane.”

“We are, but I like that about us,” he said, kissing her again. Her face was open and soft, her eyes dancing with happiness, but he still found himself asking, “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am, buzzard. More than words can say.” Aelin kissed him to emphasise that fact, his hand reaching down onto her belly and was content to stay like that forever. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She always thought that she’d just have one child, maybe two, but to have five was something she never dreamed of.

Isolde finally decided to wake up and scream her displeasure at being hungry. Aelin was off him in an instant, cooing at their daughter as Aelin sat back in her seat and fed not just herself, but Isolde at the same time. His mate was spectacular at multitasking like that.

They couldn't wait to meet their fifth child.

X X X X X X

Rowan was surprised that his children hadn't kicked down the doors to the bedchamber with how excited they were. Even little Isolde was a ball of energy and she was by far their most quiet child. Rowan lead them to their mother, reminding them that they had to be quiet and gentle, because mama had just gone through a long process of bringing in their new sibling into the world.

They entered the bedchamber and Aelin greeted them with a tired but loving smile telling them to come meet their new sister, the kids went onto the bed, surrounding Aelin and the baby, happiness and wonderment in their eyes as they took in the little bundle of joy, her silver hair stark against her lightly tanned skin. She had opened her eyes briefly during her first feeding and Aelin had groaned playfully when she spotted that they were pine-green, muttering how of course I labour for a whole day to give birth to another you. But he knew that she didn't care if she was born with green hair and yellow eyes, Aelin loved her immensely.

“What's her name, mama?” Elentiya asked softly, carefully trailing a finger down her sisters cheek.

“Elowynn-Yrene.” Rowan would never forget the pure joy in Yrene's eyes when Aelin asked if the healer would give them her blessing to grace their child with her name, as a thank you for all the years of coming down and helping Aelin, for eradicating Erawan, and for being a great friend to both of them. It had taken them a few minutes to convince their friend, citing that the honour was far too much, but Yrene eventually said "yes".

“That's pretty,” Alder supplied, a wide smile on his face. Aelin kissed his temple and thanked him for his kind words.

Aelin moved her eyes from Alder to Rowan, smiling as her mate stood there, taking them in.

His family, their family. Never did he think he would be so blessed to have this.

His and Aelin's children; the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

Rowan went and joined his family on the bed, the smile on his face one of Aelin's favourites.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

Like I'm Drowning

Rowaelin Month, Day Twelve

A/N: Sorry about this, blame @thewayshedreamed, she's the one who wanted more angst.

This will have a fourth part, for obvious reasons;)

part one, part two

Word count: 3,874

It was two days after Aelin had left their home. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening when the walls of what had once been his favourite place had shaken with the force of Lorcan's fists on the front door, shouting at Rowan to let him in.

He had not answered.

He couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to because his legs had stopped working and the muscles in his neck had been reduced to jelly over the last forty-eight hours, sip after sip of whatever alcohol he'd found in the cabinet.

He lay on the floor, his face in a pool of his own vomit, too heedless to care, too sore to move. In any case, he had stopped smelling the stench hours ago.

Another ten minutes had passed, in which his best friend had threatened over and over again to call the police if he didn't open the fucking door, before Lorcan had slammed his shoulder into it.

He hadn't been able to move in time when the door unhinged from the wall fell partially on him, hitting him in the head with one of the now splintered edges. He grunted in pain and could smell the blood as it began to trickle down his forehead, onto his nose, and he was relieved - he wasn't dead. Rowan had not been sure of it until that moment.

The other was there an instant later, taking the door off him, leaning it against the wall.

And the sharp breath he took was a dagger straight to Rowan's heart.

He didn't want him to see him like this.

He had never heard Lorcan's voice like that. So shocked, so worried. Whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment were blocking him from approaching him. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. Of breaking him more than he already was.

Rowan shook his head what he could, he didn't want him to see him like this. He didn't deserve his help.

"God, Rowan, what have you done?"

The relief at finding out he was still alive lasted a moment though, as the pain in his chest hit him so hard it took his breath away and he pulled himself up onto all fours before yet another wave of gags shook his body. He opened his mouth, hoping that this time something would come out, but he choked on nothing. His eyes filled with tears and Rowan wondered how that was possible.

There should have been nothing in his body.

He’d been in this conditions since the day before.

He felt a hand settle on his back, rubbing up and down as Lorcan tried to figure out what was going on, and his brain betrayed him, showing him images of a life he had taken for granted all along, from the second she had been his.

Him on the bathroom floor a few months earlier.

A box of somewhat-too-spicy Chinese food on their coffee table.

And Aelin.

Her hands on his back.

He shook off Lorcan's hand, "Don't touch me."

The words burned his throat and another gag went up his esophagus.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his back rising and falling frantically with each breath where he seemed to be unable to get enough air in.

"Rowan."

He didn't look at him. He couldn't.

"Rowan, you hear me?"

Lorcan ducked down, crouching beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to remember what he'd just asked him not to do as soon as he gave him a startled look. If he touched him again, he didn't know what his broken mind would show him. He was terrified of it.

With a grimace, Lorcan clenched both hands into fists and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sour smell of vomit and what Rowan was ashamed to admit was his own piss reached his nostrils. When he opened them again there was a distinct determination in his gaze and Rowan had to pull his eyes back to the floor.

He thought he had found a sort of calm in which he might even be able to answer Lorcan's questions, but he was wrong. He was so wrong.

"What happened?”

“I feel-” he tried to speak, failing, “I feel like I’m drowing.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked again. And then the final hit, “Where's Aelin?"

There was no stopping the first sob. His vision went totally blurry, blackening everything in front of him until all he could see was the image of her, and his chest constricted to the point where breathing was no longer even an option. He fell to the side, against the wall, and there was no stopping the desperate crying that washed over him.

***

It was three days after Aelin had left their home. It was eight o'clock in the evening when Elide and Lorcan had asked him if he would like to go back there after leaving the hospital. It was twenty past eight when they had reached his street and he was counting down the seconds till he got to smell her perfume in the air again.

He had entered the house and tried not to breathe through his nose, realising he was not ready to remember what her scent was. He noticed how everything had been cleaned, tidied up or fixed and he didn't have the mental or physical trength to turn around, hug his friends and thank them.

He looked towards the kitchen, on the table. The letter was no longer there.

"Where is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't spoken in the last few hours. Not to the couple he knew was staring at him from the doorway.

He'd been forced to answer questions from the doctors, from his coaches asking him how much time he needed. Lorcan had warned him that he'd lied for him, that he'd told them someone dear to them both had suffered a serious injury and died.

Rowan had looked at him and said a simple thank you while he lay on his hospital bed, despite knowing how much a fuckup of that magnitude risked not only his career, but Lorcan's as well.

It was Elide who had the courage to answer him, "What?"

"The letter."

"Oh." she whispered, "I put it in your room."

He nodded. Running a hand over his face he turned to them, noting how they both looked ready to launch themselves forward if they thought Rowan was going to crumble once more time.

He saw Lorcan clench his jaw and then look away before saying, "You won't find any alcohol, I threw away what was left."

Elide smiled at him with watery eyes, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, "If you need anything, you can always come to our place. You know that. We have-"

He interrupted her abruptly. He didn't look at her as he said in a harsh tone, "Thank you for everything, you can go now."

She took a sharp breath, nodding dryly and turning, hurrying out of the house. Lorcan followed her with his gaze the whole time, telling her he would join her in the car in a moment.

When he met Rowan's gaze again, the voice was the one he'd used all the years in high school when he'd been his captain. It gave no room for argument.

"I don't know what you're going through. I don't even want to begin to think about how painful it is to lose someone so important."

She didn’t die, he wanted to say. She left me.

I gave up on her. I don’t deserve her.

The steel mask Rowan was wearing seemed to be already starting to crack. He needed Lorcan to leave before he couldn't control his emotions.

He had already done too much for him.

He didn't deserve any of what they were offering him. He didn’t deserve anything.

"I can hardly imagine what I would do if I were in your position. If Elide-" he paused, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, for what's happening. It's not easy, I understand, but whatever you're doing right now, it's not the solution. Treating me and Elide like this isn't going to drive us away, and before you tell me you don't need anything, let me just say that finding you lying in a pool of your own vomit completely hammered, out of your mind was one of the most horrifying things I've ever had to see." he took a step forward, placing a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

He had the instinct to pull away, but the grip on his jacket tightened, pinning him in place.

"I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm not going to let you throw away your career like this," he told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lecture you about what happened the other day. I know I would have done a lot worse, but you have to promise me that it won't happen again."

Lorcan's voice faltered at last and Rowan was surprised to see his eyes glaze over.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open, shocked at his friend's reaction.

"Promise me."

He hurried to whisper, "I promise."

Lorcan nodded, pulling Rowan to him and hugging him. He closed his eyes as the man in front of him held him together without even realising.

When they pulled away, they pretended not to hear the way they were sniffing, or the tears on both men's cheeks. They said a simple goodbye and then Rowan was alone.

Again.

He climbed the stairs slowly, walking like a dead man down the corridor filled with memories of him carrying Aelin in his arms on that very floor, and when he reached the door to their room, he hesitated.

He brushed against the knob, gripping it in his hand.

He stared at the wood in front of him and felt panic assail him.

Rowan turned on his heel, running for the stairs, the exit, hoping that Lorcan had not already left.

He threw open the door of the ghost-filled house and ran out, intent on never returning.

***

It was two weeks after Aelin left their home. Eleven days since he'd run away in a panic. Ten days since Lorcan had convinced Rowan to go back there, at least to pack up his things.

Nine days since Rowan had destroyed their room, screaming and sobbing as he tore the curtains from the windows and threw what little of her he had left against the wall.

Every ornament, every picture frame.

He'd screamed at Lorcan when he'd tried to stop it.

He hadn't succeeded. Rowan had razed their home to the ground, shattering every happy memory they had created over the years in those four walls.

Only when he'd found Aelin's ring had he stopped, bursting into tears so loud that the first sob had startled Lorcan, holding the small object to his chest.

They had gone back to Lorcan’s, and Elide had stood there looking at him with wide eyes, before running to get the first aid kit to clean the wounds Rowan had caused himself. More or less deep cuts, which his friends said should have been stitched up by actual doctors, but Rowan doubted they wouldn't lock him up in the psychiatric ward if he went to the emergency room for the sixth time in such a short time.

Especially if he came in with shards of glass between his fingers.

He hadn't kept his promise to Lorcan.

He'd drank again. He'd gotten into a couple of fights. He hadn't been back to the rink.

He hadn't skated in a fortnight. Longest period of his life off the ice.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything. And it was all his fault.

***

It was three months and one day after Aelin had left their home. He had called Lysandra every day since Lorcan had forced him out of his and Elide's house, finding him a place right outside their team's arena. The woman had never given him any real answers, only reassuring him that Aelin was fine and that he should start moving on, too.

That too had broken something inside of him. The implications that Aelin had found someone else.

He couldn’t even bare being in the same room as another woman knowing they’d all be looking at him trying to get in his pants.

Aelin had always been the only one who wanted him for who he truly was, not his money. Not his status.

She had wished all those things gone so many times.

And she had left him.

He had let her go.

The team had sent a physiotherapist to his house every day for the first month, and then every week, accompanied by a shrink. Rowan had managed to drain them all. One after the other.

He was sure Lorcan had lost all hope too, but he continued undaunted to help him, going to his house every day after practice, without ever missing one day.

Rowan knew that Aelin had called him one night, almost a month before. Lorcan had told him, how she had begged him to tell her that he was alright, even though it wasn't true. His friend had also told him that she'd seemed to be drunk, and when she had hung up and both he and Elide had tried to call her back, Aelin had blocked their numbers.

From what he knew, she'd only unblocked Elide's, but she hadn't given him any kind of information about Aelin and he knew she'd never say anything.

He had hurt her - Elide. Rowan knew he'd treated her like little more than trash, both her and Lorcan, but however much he'd hurt her, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

He should have felt something for his friends who had given him everything in the last period, but Rowan could not care less than what they had to go through for him.

Now he was waiting for Lorcan, sitting at the table, to show him he was alright. Putting on his daily show and reassuring his friend that everything was going great, he just wasn't ready to skate again yet. The other one would look at him, yell at him a few minutes before walking out of his miserably empty flat slamming the door.

Rowan was just waiting for the day when he wouldn't show up or when he would tell him he wasn't coming, saying goodbye one last time.

He knew it would happen, one way or another, and Rowan didn't know how to stop the mess that had become his life.

That day it wasn't Lorcan who entered his house, but someone else. Rowan opened the door and saw his agent, his team president, and his coaches, along with the athletic trainers.

They had given him an ultimatum.

Either you go back to slacking off after Christmas break or we break your contract, you're off the team and you lose lots of money.

The president had been particularly emphatic on the subject of money, but for Rowan that would be the least important thing.

It wasn't until the evening after New Year's Eve that he had made a decision.

Lysandra, whom he hadn't seen in person in more than two months, had entered his house looking like someone who hadn't slept in years. She had forced him out of bed, shouting at him to wash up, to clean his house. She had made it so Rowan couldn't talk back, never letting him speak, pushing him left and right.

She had taken him outside, something he hadn't done in weeks, so much so that the sun had hurt his eyes for the first two hours. She had forced him to buy new clothes and all the missing furniture in his house.

She had stayed with him for three days.

Three extremely long days in which she had swore at him, insulted him in every possible way imaginable by the human mind. They'd nearly come to blows when she'd touched a sore spot and Rowan had threatened to call Aedion to haul her away.

She'd dragged him to the party Fenrys had thrown for the New Year and for the first time in months, Rowan had smiled.

Elide had started crying when she'd seen him, Lorcan on the verge of tears as well. They had both hugged him and Rowan had begged for their forgiveness.

That night, Rowan thought things would be different for him for the first time.

He'd been wrong.

Again.

***

It was four years and twenty-seven days after Aelin had left their home. Four years since he had received no news of her. Three years since he stopped asking.

Rowan had been zapping through channels for so many hours now that the glaring light of the TV didn't even bother him anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the screen, not really looking at the images in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a sentence here and there, ignoring the constant tinkle coming from his phone that warned him that Lorcan still didn't give up on talking to him every day from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Even when he was on holiday with his now wife.

They had won yet another cup. The third win in a row.

Sometimes Rowan could hardly believe it.

Three Stanley Cups.

On his dream team.

He should have been excited. No, not excited.

He should have been the happiest man on earth. He should have been out celebrating with his teammates, vacationing on a tropical beach like Lorcan was doing, surrounding himself with girls ready to offer him anything to spend even just one night with him.

But Rowan didn't want to.

Rowan felt nothing – he had not felt anything in the last few years of his life. How did he expect to start now? For a measly win.

He hated hockey. He hated the sport. Hated the fans, his teammates.

He hated his life.

He was about to turn off the TV, confident that he would be able to sleep tonight without the help of the meds the team kept giving him to keep him from collapsing during the games, when his finger froze on the remote.

He didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to be a channel about gossip, and Rowan felt a pang of anger well up in his chest. It seemed to be the only emotion he still felt from time to time.

Shocked and pissed that someone had felt the need to devote an entire channel to minding other people's business, he stood up, ready to pass out in his cold bed, when the words of the man on the screen stopped him in his tracks.

"And now to the latest news, straight from the social of the Toronto Maple Leafs' rookie player, Chaol Westfall, who has announced his marriage to the stunningly beautiful girlfriend, Aelin Galathynius. She has never been very active on social media, in fact, for somebody with such a charm, she'd be perfect in the role of influencer, but-"

Rowan stopped hearing.

He felt his body's reaction in time, and rushing to the kitchen, he managed to get everything his body was rejecting in the sink. He heaved in there till the last bit of what he’d eaten a few hours ago.

His heart was racing and he had to grip the counter to keep from kneeling on the floor.

That couldn’t be true.

Aelin was getting married.

Aelin was getting married to an hockey player.

The anger blinded him as her words flashed before his eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m weak. I’m so tired.

This isn’t the life I wanted for us.

I wish I could be your “’till death do us apart”, but I can’t.

The sound that came out of him was not human as he ran to his room and snatched the ring from the drawer next to his bed, the letter that just went wherever he went and raced out of the flat that never felt his own anyway.

***

It was four years and thirty days after Aelin had left their home.

Rowan stood in front of the journalists. Everyone was gaping at him, his teammates on the sidelines were looking his way as if he’d grown three heads.

And he couldn’t blame them, but he had needed to do this a long time ago.

He’d talked to his agents, the team’s president, everyone he had needed to to make this happen and he hadn’t felt such freedom in so long.

The questions just kept on coming and coming and he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he didn’t care.

He only needed to make this statement in front of everyone.

“I’m aware that leaving this team right now is a foolish and completely insane idea, but this world has taken too much from me already. My contract with the Senators ended with this season and I know everyone was expecting me to say which team I’m heading off to, but I’m quitting.

“I should have done this a long time ago and I’m sure the person this is for won’t even see this interview, but I love someone who thought she wasn’t enough for me. She told me four years ago her love wasn’t enough. I’m leaving cause hockey has not been a source of happiness in a very long time and it ruined everything good I ever had.

“I thought I loved playing cause of the adrenaline. The pride in a win. The chills when you score. But no, it wasn't that.”

I loved seeing her smile whenever I scored for her. The way she used to put medications on my wounds and bruises whenever I got hit too hard. Or the way we used to get all cuddled up after a long flight, after weeks of not seeing each other. I loved how my jerseys fit her – the way my clothes fit her.

He turned to his teammates, the people he owned a lot but couldn’t bring himself to care enough of to stay with them, “Being on this team would only make it worse. I’m sorry guys, I hope you can understand. This isn’t what I want right now.”

And right before he could get off the stage that had been set up for him, someone screamed from the crown.

“What are you going to do now?”

He didn’t stop to reply, avoiding everyone’s gazes and keeping on walking until he reached the exit of the arena. The chill air hit him hard as he went out on the street and got on the car.

This was the last time he’d be able to use one of the team’s cars.

The driver looked at him in the mirror, “Where to?”

“The airport, please.”

The man nodded and started the engine and Rowan felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

Now, I’m going to get her.

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