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wordsafterhours · 3 months

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 16

Author's Note: Hello all! Here is a short chapter, angsty and nothing but a filler. Next chapter, will actually be content to move the story along and give more of an expanded back story on Gav and Aed. We'll also see more quality time between our two favorite people :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

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Yulemas had come and gone, as had all the decorations, sans the tree in her bedroom. Aelin found herself staring at it often, replaying the entirety of Yulemas over in her head on a continual loop. As promised, Fleetfoot’s ornament hung next to the heart of fire, its glaze making it gleam against the artificial light of the tree. She had tried to pack the tree away, several times, but couldn’t bare the idea of wrapping any of it up after not having seen it for so long.

The tips of her fingers glided over the dog miniature, grooves of whittled wood barely discernable against the pad. It astounded her that such large hands could have crafted something so detailed and small. It was beautiful and perfect and the most thoughtful gift she’d had in some time. The corners of her mouth tugged up—the ghost of a sentimental smile. “I’ll be back to admire you later,” she told the object, ignoring it was inanimate and didn’t care if she came or went.

It was just her today at the store, which required her to be punctual for the first time in weeks. Aelin had grown spoiled by Evangeline opening the store and was begrudging the fact that she couldn’t drink a cup of coffee on the back porch and read a chapter in her book before work. Well, she could have, but it would have required sacrificing sleep, and that wasn’t a preferable option.

Mindlessly, she showered, then slipped into a dark-green, oversized sweater, and off-white corduroy pants. She braided her hair and wove the tails into a bun at the base of her skull using pearl tipped pins to hold it the arrangement in place. A few pieces of hair were tugged out to frame her face. Two quick swipes of mascara and Aelin deemed herself presentable enough to be out the door.

A light covering of frost dusted the windshield but not enough that it would delay her too long. Turning the vehicle on, she dug in the floorboards for the ice scraper amongst discarded receipts and croissant wrappers, before clearing the windshield. The drive into town was uneventful but beautiful, the Staghorns, lower valley, and Oakwald forest was still quite covered in snow. Terrasen was never more picturesque than in its winter glory.

By the gods, there was a spot open right in front of the shop and Aelin pulled her vehicle into it, cutting the engine with a little smile. Usually, she parked at Lysandra’s or down the block, preferring not to have to deal with the main street traffic. The day wasn’t going to warm up much and the idea of walking after dark sounded unappealing.

Like the Christmas tree still taking up residence in her room, twinkling lights and green garlands adorned the windows of Present Tense, which made her smile brightly every time she saw them. It wasn’t practical to leave them up much longer but with everything lately, the small joy was a novelty not worn yet. The smell of aged paper, leather, and spices reached her nose as Aelin pushed through the front door, flipping lights on as she went through the store.

Mindlessly, she powered on the computer, put coffee to brew, and started a fire in the fireplace. The store would open soon and needed to be as inviting as possible in hopes of combating the post-holiday lull that it was in. It happened every year but there was always a small sliver of hope on her part that it wouldn’t. How could people not appreciate the written word every day of the year?

Minutes faded into hours, and it was lunchtime, with not a single customer having come through the doors. Inventory, payroll, and needed ordering had been done. Bookcases dusted, wood oiled; Aelin had even made sure her under the desk spider was still happy and thriving. Staring at the door waiting for someone to come in was quite literally inducing a headache. Popping two pain pills, she loosed a resigned sigh, plopping down in a worn, plush chair adjacent to the crackling fire. Others may not be reading today but the same would not be said for her.

She was warm, almost unpleasantly, and a small neck twinge was beginning to register on the outermost fragments of her consciousness—It wasn’t enough to fully rouse her though and she burrowed back against the soft velvet. A featherlight touch traced the shell of her ear, accompanied by a warm, low chuckle. Reluctantly, Aelin cracked a lid, her turquoise and gold eye searching for the disruptor.

“There she is,” he murmured with a small smile.

“Hi,” she replied sleepily, sitting up and stretching her sleep-addled body. Involuntarily, she winced, the twinge in her neck more serious than it had felt half asleep.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking two quick steps in her direction.

“Nothing, just stretched wrong is all.”

One silver brow raised, his face tight as his green eyes roved over her, trying to a discern the depth of her candor. Whatever he saw had him standing between her legs in an instant, peering down at her with perfected skepticism. “Turn around.”

“Rowan, I said I was fine.” The last thing she needed was his hands on her, blurring the line she was trying so hard to keep straight. Narrow. Uncrossed. Their track record was quite poor, but it was a new year for new beginnings, with eleven months to go.

“You can’t even straighten your neck right. Your right eye keeps squinting when you move and you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.” Could nothing be secret from him? Aelin had been commended on her poker face, it was one of her greatest assets, and now when it was needed most, it was painfully absent.

“I can live with a stiff neck, Ro,” she argued, leaning back against the chair and crossing her arms to strengthen her declination.

“Gods, you’re a literal pain in my ass,” he snarked.

“I’m not trying to be.”

Lies. Liar. Difficult was exactly the strategy Aelin was playing. If he was mad, then he wouldn’t want to help her and on the straight and narrow she could continue.

“It’s a good thing I’m bigger than you, though.” His lilt was teasing, light, and his grin, as roguish as she’d ever seen it. Only half a word had made it passed her pink lips before being cut off by a loud squeal as dragged her from the chair and onto the plush rug beneath their feet.

“Now, you can either keep lying flat of your back, pouting, or you can sit in front of the fire and let me work out the knot. I vote the latter but again, your choice.”

She hadn’t seen him since their Yulemas festivities, and it suddenly dawned on her how much his presence had been missed. Despite the bothersome stiff neck and having been dragged from the chair like a child, her heart felt light in a way that couldn’t quite be placed. The corners of her mouth turning up into a genuine smile.

“I’m going to hurt you if your antics messed up my hair.” It was an empty threat and the only response given to let him know he’d won.

“Vain, as always,” he noted with a small shake of his head. Deftly, he maneuvered his large form to the ground, taking up residence behind her. It was fortunate that she was facing forward, if only to avoid his piercing gaze as her cheeks heated at the intimacy of their set up. An urge to lean back against him was ferociously clawing its way up her throat as each second ticked by.

If only to redirect her own thoughts, Aelin moved one leg up and rested her chin atop her knee, idly playing with the soft carpet beneath her right hand. If Rowan didn’t make a move soon, the anticipation of it was going to result in her saying something stupid about how this whole thing was his idea.

The touch of his hand was contradiction personified as he splayed it across her right shoulder, thumb digging in softly and firm all at once, working it into the muscle that paralleled her spine. The calloused fingers moved with awareness of her that they should not have possessed—his touch akin to that of a lover’s who had spent long hours tracing every square inch of fair skin until committed to memory.

Notes of tangy iron filled her mouth, an unintended consequence of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of her lip; a pitiful attempt at stifling how marvelous it all felt. Her head tipped sidewise, temple resting against her leg now, granting Rowan better access to the column of her neck. Strong fingers pressed beneath the hollow of her ear, steadfastly following muscle tract to just above her collar bone. Featherlight, he grazed the length of delicate bone before returning to his starting point, again dragging firmly down in the same pattern. Heat sept in, washing away tension like ocean tides did sand.

A true glutton for punishment, Aelin tipped her head in the opposite direction, a silent signal for the male at her back to direct his focus elsewhere. With expert care, he massaged the muscles, working out the knots in much the same manner as before. An errant, small moan slipped out when Rowan’s fingers lazily dipped too far past her collar bone, barely missing the top of her breast. So much for that line she’d been towing.

If he pushed it, there was no way her heart or body could say no, even with her head a screaming cacophony of objecting reasons. The ache low in her core and between her thighs had her shifting uncomfortably, trying to soothe even a fraction of it. The green sweater, a good idea this morning, was surely becoming a nuisance against her flushed skin. Crackling wood wasn’t enough to drown out the low, shaky breaths at her back, and if that wasn’t indication enough of his shaken façade, both hands were on her back, lower—a safe layer of knit separating them.

She hissed when he hit a particularly tender spot in the small above her back and it seemed to be the reprieve they both needed. The anxiety dissipated and breaths came easier. Moving forward, they could not afford to continue to end up in these situations. No one ever wanted to be the other girl, especially her, even if Lyria had made her feel less a person on multiple occasions.

“I’ve got to sit down. I’m too old to keep this position,” Rowan admitted, sounding a little embarrassed at his admission. Soon, either side of her hips were cradled by legs as he stretched out.

Like this was going to fucking help anything. “Ro.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Aelin.”

If she stayed put, did this make a her duplicitous in whatever ideology was governing him in to believing that this didn’t mean anything? Or should offense be what she should feel because perhaps none of it meant anything. It was easier to live with being a liar than being used by him.

Throwing her morals, standards, and protests to the wind, Aelin leaned fully back into him.

As he had done her shoulders and back, his muscular hands began to massage her arms. The air became oppressive again, not with unspent sexual tension, but with the acute awareness that this situation was surpassing unbefitting friend behavior. Several times, her mouth opened and then promptly closed as she choked down unbidden questions.

“Something you want to say?” he enquired quietly.

“Why?” Succinct. Falsely unaware. Confident.

“I can feel you get tense and relax and tense and relax. It’s obvious something is going through that head of yours.” His hand stilled except his thumb, which was drawing smooth circles against the underside of her wrist.

“A thought for a thought?” The entirety of his frame stiffened, and a cool draft crept up her spine as he leaned back, an invisible but tangible wall falling into place. For as open as he seemed to be, or intrusive, the minute things were not on his terms, Rowan became impenetrable as opalescent stone buildings of downtown Orynth.

Frustrated, Aelin started to scoot forward but halted when a relinquishing sigh guttered out behind her. White teeth pressed into her bottom lip, a poor attempt to stave off a satisfied, triumphant smirk. He gingerly grabbed her right hand, tugging her back against him. The tension was still there but had lessened a minutia.

His hand dwarfed hers but in the best way. The worn planes and callouses of his hand lit by the fire glow were the only thing her turquoise eyes seemed to be able to focus on. Everything about this man drew her in, like a greedy moth to a flame. Silence hung between them, her waiting patiently for what Rowan would say.

Or wouldn’t.

It could have been five minutes or thirty but soon what little patience lived in her body was dissipating. Expectantly, she turned to look up at him, eyes roving over his tight jaw and dark eyes. Whatever thoughts were running through his mind, she didn’t know but he looked quite truly a man at war with himself. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

His silver lashes were full, almost touching his cheeks as his gaze flicked down to her, briefly. “I’ve never had someone like you in my life, and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

The answer was paltry at best. It felt as though he was saying anything but what truly occupying his thoughts. His refusal to look at her when it wasn’t normally an issue spoke more than he probably realized. A veiled half-truth wasn’t what she had intended when she asked him a thought for a thought.

Aelin wanted to call him on his bullshit, to demand the same raw honesty he always demanded of her—that she always gave because anything less was unacceptable.

But, again, she stayed silent, merely shifting in his lap to rest her ear against his chest, taking in the steady thump of his heart as it slowed. When it returned to what seemed like a normal rate, her own half-truth tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad to call you my friend, too.”

Friend. Friend tasted acrid and wrong on her tongue despite the sentiment being mostly candid. Friend was too small, too generic of a word for what was living within her chest. Amongst the pages of some forgotten book, she had read once that liked called to like.

And that they were. Two halves of the same soul, cleaved apart long ago by the gods, left to search for another across time and space. It was the only plausible reason she could muster as to why he felt like home. In the very marrow of her bones, he had entombed himself. In any world, any life, Aelin would know him.

While she could not have him, not as she wanted in this reality, she would try her damnedest anyways. It didn’t matter what capacity he could afford her, Aelin would take it, hoarding their moments like a dragon with stolen crown jewels.

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Tag List:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #songs about you #throne of glass fic #aelin x rowan #slow burn #wordsafterhours #throne of glass au #short update #sorry I've forgotten how to write #I've also lost my story notes somewhere sos

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leiawritesstories · 3 months

Note

PROMPT:

leia my love i DARE you

I LEGIT LAUGHED SO HARD MARIA BAHAHA here you go love <3 ;)

word count: 611

warnings: swearing, innuendo, artistic depiction of 🍆

let's add this to the @throneofglassmicrofics March challenge! using the prompts "Accident" and "Chaos" hehe enjoyyyy

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Snatching a few seconds to gasp in a breath as the madness of the morning rush died down, Aelin wiped her hands on her apron and brushed loose strands of hair away from her face. She washed her hands quickly and returned to the coffee bar just as Lysandra stuck her head into the back room and hollered for her.

"Calm down, Lyssie!" Aelin yelled back, laughing. "I'm right here."

"Someone asked for you," Lys singsonged, wiggling her brows aggressively.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You'd think we were fifteen, not twenty-three."

"We're so mature." Lys smirked and bumped her hip into Aelin's. "Now go take your man's order."

Aelin strolled up to the counter, grinning as she met Rowan's bright, amused gaze. "Hey. What can I get you?"

"Well, since you aren't on the menu, I'll take a cappuccino." The slow wink he gave her did bad, bad things to her heartbeat.

She lowered her lashes and peeked up, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth the way she knew drove her boyfriend wild. "I'm all up for grabs at four, you know."

"Oh, I know." He smirked as he pulled his credit card from his wallet. She tapped in his order, and he paid and sauntered down to wait by the pick-up window.

"You should put special art on his cappuccino," Lys said as she finished up the iced lattes she was working on.

"Like a heart? Bitch, please."

"Oh no." Lys's smirk turned positively wicked. "A dick."

"Lysandra Ennar!" Aelin yelped, swatting the brunette with a towel. "What the hell?!"

"Bitch, you know you want to." Lys's eyebrow wiggle returned, even more aggressive than earlier. "You could even draw it to scale."

Aelin laughed so hard she had to brace her hands on the countertop to keep herself upright. "Holy shit, Lys!" She wheezed as she caught her breath. "Alright. Watch this." She sped through the motions of pulling the espresso shot and steaming up some milk, and then she carefully cradled the ceramic cup in her left hand and began pouring the steamed milk with her right.

When the foam rose to the top, she carefully turned the mug, made a sort of sideways heart shape, and dragged the point of the heart downwards. Then she rotated the mug, and, starting from the point of the upside-down heart, poured a careful pattern of foam in a precise, nearly straight line with a slight wobble. She finished off the crown with a little blob, artfully smearing it so it looked like, well...

"Someone's happy to see you," Lys snickered.

Aelin cackled as she set down the cappuccino. "Ro, love, here's your drink." She spun the cup so that the thick, long dick painted in white foam stood erect.

"Thanks, Ae--what the fuck?!" Rowan spluttered, gaping at the drink. His tan face flushed an endearingly bright shade of crimson, his eyes darting rapidly between the dick-uccino and Aelin's bright, wicked grin.

"Not quite large enough for you, love?"

"Aelin," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands and scrubbing at his blushing face. "No, it's the perfect size."

She snickered. "Good to know. I have quite the model." Her gaze flicked south.

He laughed as he grabbed a stir stick and stirred his cappuccino, dissolving her work of art. "Don't think you've heard the last of this, love." Heat simmered in his eyes.

"Is that a promise?"

Rowan's stare, blazingly hot, snapped to hers. "When you're begging me to let you come, love, just remember this--you got me hard in a very public place." He strolled off to a table, leaving her flushed and speechless behind the bar.

Well.

Damn.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

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house-of-galathynius · 1 year

Text

Overdrive

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Word Count: 650

Welcome to my newest fic, Overdrive! I hope you’re ready for some friends to enemies to lovers mixed in with some F1 and a little bit of angst!

Aelin

“… In other sporting news; Rowan Whitethorn has secured the Formula One drivers championship this weekend. He went on to win the penultimate race, securing this win over rival Chaol Westfall. The new world champion was all smiles as he took the podium alongside his teammate Aedion Ashryver.”

The screen cut to a grinning Rowan. His eyes were bright as the reporter held a microphone to him and congratulated him before asking if he had any comments on his first championship win.

“Honestly, I couldn’t have done this without the fantastic support of my team and engineers and all the people back at the factory. This has been a dream of mine since I was five years old and I have so many people to thank for getting me here.”

“Any plans for big celebrations?”

Rowan laughed. “I’m sure we have something planned. First I need to get through the final race of the season.”

The reporter laughed too. “And will your wife be joining you in the celebrations?”

Rowan’s eyes dimmed slightly, but he still held onto that smile. “We’ll see. She’s a very busy woman.”

The reporter cut off and the screen went back to the anchor before moving on to the next bit of news.

Aelin sat there gripping the mug until her knuckles were white. Her mother quickly turned the TV off and came to Aelin and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“We should be happy for him.” Evalin said gently.

But Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to be happy for him. Not when her heart ached at the sight of him. At the smile on his face or the green eyes that she had once known so well. She couldn’t summon any generosity to feel proud of him… not when he had left her behind and moved on so swiftly.

Rowan

The house had been empty when he’d returned. He’d been expecting it of course. But it still hurt him to come inside and feel the absence of Lyria and all of her things. There were no bright flowers on the console table by the door, nor any of her colourful jackets hung on the hooks. Her books that filled the shelves were packed away and all that was left were the bare bones of the house, and the little possessions Rowan had.

There was a note on the counter and he almost couldn’t find the courage to read it. He knew what it would say, anyway.

But still, he picked it up and opened it.

Rowan,

The removal company will be at the house on Tuesday to collect my things— it’s all in the spare room in boxes, you won’t need to do anything. I’ve left my keys on your desk and the papers you need to sign. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Just sign them and it can be over.

I hope you don’t need to, but if you need to talk to me then please do it via the lawyers. I’m sorry it had to end this way, but I couldn’t do it any longer.

Congrats on your win, I hope it was worth it.

Lyria

Rowan crumpled the paper in his hands and tossed it as hard as he could across the kitchen. The paper barely made it halfway before falling pathetically to the floor.

He had done this all for her. And she had left him. She fucking walked away. Rowan was glad he had told his manager not to come by today because he could barely contain his rage and devastation. Rowan could barely think as he marched down to his home gym and ran until he could barely feel his legs and his lungs were burning.

There was nothing left inside him when he crawled into bed, and for the first time since he was nineteen years old, he cried.

Taglist:

@morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @fredweasleyhasadhd @luckyrunawaycheesecake @live-the-fangirl-life @fireheart-violet @charlizeed @scarblx @xo-fangirl-xo @wordsafterhours @jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival @becarefuloflove @tanvee1231 @viajandosinalas @backtobl4ck @emily-gsh @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @becarefuloflove @goddess-aelin @thegreyj @leiawritesstories @nerdperson524 @rowanaelinn

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morganofthewildfire · 2 years

Text

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You're On Your Own, Kid

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rowaelin short fic based on the Taylor Swift song

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

#part one coming tonight!#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au

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rowaelinfandomlove · 2 years

Text

List of Active Rowaelin Writers!

So instead of a google doc, I decided to make this list more easy to access and put it all on here! I went ahead and compiled it all myself, but if you're missing or if you know of someone who's missing, please let me know!!

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@backtobl4ck

@charincharge

@elentiyawhitethorn

@emilyoftheshadows

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@heirofflowers

@highqueenofelfhame

@house-of-galathynius

@imaginedhaven

@julemmaes

@justreadertings

@leiawritesstories

@letstakethedawn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@llyncooljones

@louiseleblancdiggory

@manonblaqkbeak

@morganofthewildfire

@punkassbookjockey26

@rhysandswhore

@rowaelinrambling

@rowanaelinn

@sassyhobbits

@shyvioletcat

@slytherhys

@snelbz

@starseternalnighttriumphant

@talkfantasytome

@the-regal-warrior

@thegreyj

@theladyofdeath

@thewraithsofmorhogg

@tomtenadia

@westofmoon

@whimsicallyreading

@wordsafterhours

@writtenonreceipts

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rowanaelinn · 2 years

Note

fluff prompt: rowaelin at the beach watching the sunset

The sun was beaming onto his already tanned skin, though he was protected by the ten layers of sunscreen his fiancé had been applying on his skin today.

They were sitting on a quiet part of the beach, somewhere where they could only faintly hear the voices and laugh from people down the crowded part of the beach.

Though the view was amazing, Rowan wasn’t focused on it at all. No, the sun-kissed woman laying between his legs, her bare back against his naked chest, had his entire attention in a grip. Her blonde hair was shinning with the last rays of sunshine, almost blinding him with their beauty.

Aelin’s eyes were looking far ahead of them, the sun disappearing slowly and reflecting onto the sea. Rowan couldn’t look away from her. Though it was at an awkward angle, but he wasn’t complaining. His fiancé was beautiful from every angle, no matter what she thought.

He wouldn’t tell her that, if only because he did want to live at least until his wedding day, but Aelin was not always right.

He leaned in to kiss her neck, the skin there still a little salty from when she swam into the sea earlier in the day. He had one protecting hand over her belly, barely swollen. Aelin was only four month along, and she was barely showing.

That had worried them, but their doctors were not as worried. It was normal, and their baby was perfectly healthy. So was their mother, and she was glowing.

Aelin sighed into the touch, her head falling to the side to let him more room to kiss. He chuckled against her skin, she was needy and greedy, just the way he loved her. She always wanted more of him, something he would never complain about.

"Are you not interested by the view?" she asked, her voice soft and silky. Alright, maybe he was the needy one who imagined tones in her voice.

"I am very interested in the view, why?"

She huffed a laugh, turning her head to catch his gaze, "You think I can’t feel you staring at me?"

He shrugged, "I am looking at the most perfect view in the world, I do not see the problem. Is there one, Fireheart?"

She blushed but hid it with a snort, "You’re such a flirt. You don’t need to charm me anymore, buzzard. I already agreed to marry you."

He rolled his eyes, an habit of hers he had caught on quickly. "That’s where you are wrong, baby. I will charm you every day for the rest of our life. Is that a problem for you?"

She pressed her lips together, keeping her smile for herself. Her gaze lowered for a second on his lips before she answered, "Absolutely not. Work your magic on me."

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings

#leiawritesstories #prompt #fluff #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

Note

hi! it’s the anon from months and months ago who sent a bunch of additions for the sjm writers list, back with another load!

@a-courtofdreams @c-e-d-dreamer @colteyes @fireheartbuzzard @fireheartfaery @firestarsandseneschals @heirofflowers @ladykreads @mybloodrunsblue @queentala @rowaelinismyotp @tangledraysofsunshine @thehaemanthus @the-wicked-quxxn @verryberriess @wordsafterhours

@acourtofmarauders → @inkedstarlight

@alwayss-reading → @epochofbelief

@ladyvanserra → @moononastring

@miserablemusings → @rowaelinrambling

@starborn-faerie-queen → @starbornvalkyrie

@surielandiareendgame → @elentiyawhitethorn

@venomejoy has a typo → @venmomejoy

@asteria-of-mars is deactivated

@thenerdandfandoms is deactivated

—a

oooh thank you!

I will update the list now.

#SJM writers #fanfiction

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wordsafterhours · 2 months

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Songs About You - Chapter 17

Author's Note: Hello all! I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. I'm not sure who is even around to read this story anymore since it has been so drug out. I did my best to give birth to the idea of this chapter that I had in my head. As always, feedback, comments, and likes are food for the soul.

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

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It seemed anxiety, bordering on near panic, was going to become a constant state of being for Aelin. Gone was the self-assured, cool, confident, and collected woman of the past. Everything she had been, known, hoped, wanted… it all seemed painfully stuck in the past, as unmovable of the mountain peaks surrounding the city.

Perhaps if therapy had been attended, as suggested by a multitude of her friends on more than one occasion, the necessary tools to address how she was feeling would be handily available. In her toolkit. Having to endure needles in her eyes sounded more preferable than attending therapy, so naturally, she had not gone, preferring to shoulder her emotional baggage.

The emotional turmoil of today was stemming from her reluctantly agreed upon dinner at Rowan’s cabin. It had been the price to pay for his visit to her the book shop yesterday. The smart part of her brain screamed no, but a too quick “yes” produced by her messy heart had passed over her lips instead. And it was an answer she’d give and give again just to see the smile that had graced his handsome face, setting his green eyes alight with joy. When this ended, because she knew it would, there was no doubt in her mind, that she would be the proverbial cannon fodder of this situation.

Wincing as she hit a particularly rough pothole, Aelin made a large mental note to chastise Rowan for it. The winter season had only worsened the already shit road and SUV be damned, it didn’t seem to make it any more bearable. Fleetfoot shifted her footing in the passenger seat, glancing over, giving a judgmental look.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault this road isn’t maintained,” she muttered in contempt.

Lucky for both the golden-haired girls, the A-frame cabin was soon in few, lit by beautiful glass bulbs strung from tree to trees. While his house wasn’t her style, much preferring luxury and the things accustomed with the that lifestyle, there was something perfect about the view she had now. It was quieter than even where she lived. And if possible, it seemed more stars could be seen winking in the sky. The light blues and purple of dusk were fading away into dark blues and black as the sun continued its decent below the horizon.

Cutting the engine, Aelin sat a moment, taking in two large breaths and talked herself down from the anxiety that was clawing violently up her throat. There was no reason to be nervous, not really, if you got past the fact she was spending another evening in his presence, in the home that would one day house his family…

Fine. Everything was perfectly fine. That was the mantra that would headline the forefront of her mind tonight—it had to be. The alternative distressingly cruel.

“Let’s go, girl.” Fleetfoot didn’t need to be told twice, bounding over her lap and out the car door, rounding the corner of the house before her feet had even touched the pine needle ground.

“Well, someone was eager,” she grumbled under her breath as she followed the same path the dog had taken. The backdoor was open, spilling added light across the porch and grass. Chairs circled a firepit that had already had a crackling fire within it. Blankets hung on the back of two chairs. Her mouth watered as a small breeze kissed her skin, bringing with it the smell of garlic and a little spice. The silver haired man had refused to tell her what they were doing, other than he was making her dinner, which he also decided to withhold what it was they would be eating.

Gently, she knocked against the door trim before walking in. Rowan gave her a smile as he lowered a wooden spoon down from his lips and set it down on the counter. “Couldn’t wait for a taste?”

“A cook always has to sample the dish before serving it to others. I wouldn’t want feed you something terrible.”

“My refined palate appreciates that.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but the small laugh let her know he knew she was just being difficult. She took a seat at the bar top that overlooked the stove. The meal looked simple but it smelled divine, especially with her sitting almost directly over it. “Are you going to tell me what’s on the menu now that I’m here?”

“You’re insufferable sometimes. I hope you realize that,” he answered, flicking her nose.

“I’m wonderful, thank you very much. The only intolerable one here is you.”

“Keep it up and I’ll give the dogs your plate and your part of the dessert.” His face was straight, no slight tick in his jaw or arch of a brow to tell if he was kidding. The discarded spoon was picked back up and used to stir whatever sauce was simmering on the stove top.

Worrying her lip, Aelin said nothing but continued to watch him mill about the kitchen. He flicked off the burners and bent down, giving her a better view of the kitchen. It was like a beacon in the dark, the small image pinned to the fridge with a magnet, that immediately ensnared her wandering gaze. A heavy unease settled in the pit of her stomach the longer she stared at the photo. His tall frame appeared back in her view, but he might as well have been invisible because she just kept staring—a very tangible feeling of nauseousness working up her throat.

Rowan was going to be a father to a baby that would be here before they both knew it. And he would be filling his spare time with raising him or her. Cooking meals in this very kitchen and coming home to someone who Aelin couldn’t stand. Until now, a small part of her had been delusional, quietly whispering that he would still have time for her when it came down to it. But he wouldn’t. This man would be all in for that life that hung proudly against the silver fridge face.

In the haze of her tunnel vision, she had missed him moving until he was turning the stool and pulling her against warm, muscled chest. His heart was thrumming erratically against her ear. This man was far from dumb and likely knew just the reason for her terror-struck silence. “Aelin,” his voiced pleaded against the crown of her head.

“What are we doing Ro?” she cried into him.

“We’re having dinner.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Aelin declared, shoving her palms against his stomach in a paltry attempt to put distance between them. He gripped her harder, snuffing out the hope for any separation.

“Rowan, let me go,” she begged, the words vibrating against them both.

“I can’t, Fireheart.”

“Rowan, there’s a baby on your fridge. Your baby. It’s growing and some months from now, it’s going to be more than just a black and white decoration to look at.” He was lying to himself if he thought he could keeping living his life like this and it broke her heart because he didn’t seem to have an iota about it.

“Aelin, you don’t think I know that?” he barked angrily, stepping back and bumping into another stool. It’s high-pitched squeal making her look up at him. Loosing a frustrated breath, his green eyes weighed heavily on her.

“I can’t change that. I know I’m going to be a dad and it wasn’t how I thought my journey to fatherhood would go, but I know more than anyone, that July is going to bring so many changes. So don’t sit there and preach at me about that stupid black and white photo. I didn’t even put it up there. Lyria did. It’s from when she first found out and it’s a blob. It doesn’t even look like a baby.”

From her vantagepoint, it looked like a potato. Gods, likening a baby to a potato was surely going to get her some gods-given karma down the line. Unsure of what to say to the passionate, yet angry monologue, Aelin elected silence.

“I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m excited, too. Some little human out there is going to call me dad. And I’m going to read poetry to them every night before they go to bed and take them hiking on Saturdays with my friends. I’m going to stroll the streets of downtown Orynth, telling them about a time when there used to be a queen and kind of this country, and how the opalescent buildings were an unheard-of masterpiece when they designed and built. I’m going to take them to Emrys’ and introduce cake when they’re old enough. And we’ll see you when we come to buy books because I want them to know 1,000 different lives. I have to make the most of what I’ve been dealt.”

Tears burned, falling for herself, and falling for the man at her front. Rowan loved that baby, and it was beautiful to see it. But the life he painted; it made her envious. What would a life like that, with him, be like? Would they fight about what book to read? What would be the first poem they would read to their child? Would he get the history just right having not grown up here? Would she have to correct him with a teasing smile?

“What if” was the most painful start to any self-harm idea her brain and heart could muster. What if she had met him a few months sooner? What if it had been her and not Lyria? What if Lyria hadn’t been pregnant at all?

What if. What if. What if.

Calloused thumbs swooped across the swell of her cheeks, wiping away the moisture sliding down. He tilted her head, catching her gaze with his. “There’s a limit to what I can give you, Aelin. I know that, but I’m trying to be here, for you. And if that’s enough for now, then let it be enough. And when it’s not, ask me again to let you go.”

It was appropriate to say while he cradled her in his hands—the declaration literal and figurative and a bittersweet understanding. She knew that whatever unspoken thing tying them together didn’t adhere to the constructs of reason or reality—it unapologetically existed. And for now, the small kernels of time and of himself that Rowan offered to her were enough.

However, they’d both be nothing but fools if they believed with any real hope that this would last beyond July. The gods didn’t cater to mortal whims, not even love or desire, despite what countless words penned in books tried to argue. Aelin knew this better than anyone having suffered unbelievably so in the face of the cards she had been dealt.

Before her parents had died, Arobynn betrayed everyone, and her uncle and cousins’ unwitting complicity in his schemes, her life had been one of unwavering love, joy, and happiness. Every day was not sunshine and roses, but there hadn’t been one thing she’d willingly change.

It occurred to her that she had not offered any sort of response to Rowan’s quiet plea apart from silence. With a rueful twitch of her pink lips, she said hardly audible, “Okay.” The two syllables tasted acerb against her tongue, but she’d utter them again and again if it meant he’d look at her the way he was now. With one last smooth stroke against the apples of her cheeks, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

Aelin gave an enthusiastic nod, which had him freeing her and returning to the other side of the counter, dishing out food onto two plates in a manner that could only be described as routine. A quick jerk of his head silently commanded her to follow him as he took their dinner outside. Once she was seated comfortably in one of the chairs surrounding the fire, did he pass her a plate and take his own seat.

The first few bites had her letting out a low moan that had no right appearing anywhere except within the confines of her bedroom—but damn the gods, she couldn’t help herself. Rowan sounded like he was semi-choking across from her and it made a small, feline smirk of delight grace her lips. There was power in the knowledge that she could and did fluster the man.

Deciding to spare him anymore discomfort, she mercifully kept her indecent sounds and thoughts to herself for the remainder of their dinner which fell into a pleasant, companionable silence. Gently, she discarded the plate on the ground beside her and leaned back into the chair, taking a sip from her beer, and looking up at the stars. Millions of tiny light balls gleamed back at her, some stark white, others hardly more than a dull glow.

“When I was a kid, my parents used to tell me that the stars were all the people that we’d lost looking down on us. It used to make me so upset because I thought it was ridiculous and at that point, I had already learned that they were balls of exploding gas. But as I got older and lost them, I came to the decision that their explanation was the only one I wanted to possess any conviction for. At the very least, it’s a far more beautiful sentiment than any scientific truth.”

Aelin refused to look anywhere but up, not wanting to see pity, understanding, comfort—anything in response to her confession. Vulnerability made her feel weak and broken and she’d shown Rowan more of herself in the months of their friendship than she’d shown must people in years. He was constantly disarming her; strategically knocking a stone loose from the wall she’d armed herself with and with the right move, it would irreparably crumble.

It was inevitable. It was coming. And she wasn’t ready yet… but she wanted to be. Living as a ghost of herself was exhausting and depressing and life was passing her by. Aelin had been a victim of life, of shitty circumstances, and had endured things some people could never imagine even on their worst day. There was more to go through, so much to face and work through, but in the perfect silence of this starlit night, it felt like her parents were by her side, reminding her they’d never left, not really.

“I wish someone would have told me stories like that,” his voice said a little gruff. Hesitantly, she flicked her blue and gold gaze his way, admiring how the firelight played off the sharp angles of his jaw. His green gaze was trained on the sky above as he continued. “I’m not sure if you’ve been to Doranelle but it’s so different from Orynth. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the largest city east of Wendlyn or because it’s a main trade port for many routes, but it’s never quiet. Something is always going on.”

She’d been once, as a young teenager on holiday with her family, and if she thought hard enough about it, she could almost taste the spice-laden air and hear the vendors selling their wares along the winding, elegant streets. Beautiful pale stone buildings with blue tops and mosaic tiles decorating their walls stood out in her brain. And their palace with its jasmine-wrapped columns and stained glasses ceilings were such a stark contrast from Orynth’s own palace of shimmering opal walls.

“It wasn’t until I was older that I knew the sky held so many stars. The bright lights of the city in culmination with the pale stone buildings, rivers, and mist make it eerily bright all the time. The sun and moon obey the same laws there, but night never seems as dark as it ought to be. Not like here, where on a moonless night, you can’t see five feet in front you. It’s beautiful at home and I was privileged growing up there, but when I was able to see more of the world, I realized there were somethings more beautiful than others.”

His piercing green gaze dropped to hers and held as he said the last part. For someone who wasn’t entirely forthcoming and made it seem like sharing personal information was akin to pulling teeth sans anesthetic, Rowan was a born storyteller. Perhaps, it was because she was sweet on him, but she was more inclined to believe it was in the way he spoke about things. His accent grew thicker, voice lower, his body more relaxed, and green eyes a little brighter.

“I went one summer after I had turned fourteen or fifteen, I can’t quite remember. We traveled every summer for my belated birthday gift. My parents wanted me to be well-rounded and to know the world. That year, Gavriel and Aedion were able to come with us. We’d traveled before as a family but never that far, for that long. It felt nice to just be ourselves without constantly wondering if photographers and journalists were going to be writing about what we were wearing, or what restaurant we frequented, or what new bill my father or mother were trying to pass.”

She loosed a bitter chuckle and picked a little too angrily at her cuticles, causing one to bleed. Rowan’s large hand rested over hers, snuffing out the anxious tendency before she could cause more damage.

“Fireheart, what happened with your uncle and your cousin? I know Elide said they betrayed you, but I saw how your face lit up when you talked about them. It’s clear you miss them. Your parents aren’t here but from what I’ve gathered, they are. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel you stiffening under my hands and you’re holding your breath. Gods, I know it’s painful for you, but you don’t have to carry around those feelings by yourself. There are so many people in your corner who would be more than happy to shoulder some of that weight… You just have to stop holding on to it so tight.”

That wall of hers? Well, there went another stone or two as he laced their fingers together, his gentle but not subtle offer to bare her grief ringing loudly in her ears, as though he had shouted it for the heavens to hear. It wasn’t that her friends hadn’t offered their ears or shoulders before, because they all had, numerous times, but she’d been too devastated to let any ounce of control go. Then, came Rowan, no better than an avalanche bulldozing a mountain full of trees, decimating everything in its wake.

He pushed when she didn’t want to be pushed. Held her when she didn’t know that’s what she wanted. Listened to her fall apart and stayed anyways. He wasn’t perfect. He had hurt her and likely would hurt here more in the future, but in their skewed dynamic, he had given her room to breathe. In shouldering of all the messy, the bad, the dramatic—it had lessened that crippling burden she’d been carrying around for years to just enough to remind her that there was more to life than what she’d been accepting.

And for his gift, she would give him another ugly truth despite the possibility of it opening up an emotional chasm deeper than any fissure on this continent. “I didn’t know how corrupt Arobynn was. To me, in most everything before and for two years after the death of my parents, I just saw him as ‘Uncle A’, my godfather and dad’s best friend. Every holiday, family birthday, fancy gala—he was there. He was my rock after it all. Him and Aedion and Gavriel.”

Aelin shifted forward in her seat and adjusted their still laced fingers on her knee, not wanting to lose the grounding contact, but unable to bare his dark emerald gaze a second longer. It seemed childish to hide, but sometimes if felt like he could see into the very darkest parts of her soul, the ones she didn’t offer up or acknowledge, and that level of discomfort was threatening to flicker out the small tendril of courage she was gripping onto.

“I didn’t know the extent of their involvement in his seedy underground dealings until the middle of the trial. Gavriel was the chair of the historical and restoration department for the city, appointed by my mother. Nepotism at its finest, I know. He had his own construction company as well and Aedion grew up learning from him. After college, he took over more responsibility in the company, leaving Gavriel to devote more time to the public and political aspects of restoring the city. Little did I know then that their company built and restored many underground areas of the city. I think at first, they didn’t realize that they were paving the network that would feed into success of The Vaults, but it became very clear, later on, that they knew. They knew and they continued anyways.”

She gave a harsh chuckle, the notion of their part in the crime syndicate somehow still bitterly amusing years later. Only amusing because they’d let themselves be deceived in the face of overwhelming evidence. Hardly any of the evidence of their involvement had been presented at trial when the betrayal had cut through her like a hot blade. Aedion’s eyes, so like her own, had found her in the sea of people within that room, brimming with guilt and unshed tears. He had looked devastated.

But she had been devastated. And blind-sided. And betrayed. And hurt. And angry.

Again, she had been made a fool at the hands of those who supposedly cared for her. A public spectacle for all the court-goes to gawk at while she crumpled in the front row.

Absent-mindedly, she rubbed at her chest, a poor attempt to soothe the ghost of twinging pain. “I don’t know what Arobynn had over my uncle, but I know it had to have been something because why else would you help a criminal? Half the city’s tunnels existed when we still had a monarch. They deserved the chance to be restored and appreciated. The finished result though surpassed what was initially documented and planned but that didn’t come to light until the underground syndicate was dismantled. No one could figure out how criminals were thwarting law enforcement left and right and all along, the answer was right under their feet.”

“I hadn’t been here long when crime started to uptick. I got mugged outside my truck one night and it was like the guy disappeared into thin air. I tried to chase him but when I turned the corner, there was nothing but empty streets. Makes sense now,” he remarked in an acrimonious tone.

“Manholes, specific businesses, canals… everyone who belonged to the Vaults learned where and how they could use these tunnels to their advantages. Arobynn had his finger in everything from prostitution and drugs to street fighting and ordered hits. When you sit at the right hand of the country’s governor, you make a lot of connections, and he used every one of them to his advantage. My uncle and Aedion redid all the tunnels as my mother asked, but they built new ones seamlessly connected too, creating an intricate and unmarked web unless you knew where to look. Had it not helped Arobynn’s rise to power and criminal empire, I might be impressed.”

Feeling restless and angry, she abruptly stood from her chair and took a few steps back. The air around the fire too warm. Rowan’s hand too heavy. The feelings still too raw.

“I didn’t stay the rest of the day Aedion and Gavriel testified, and I ignored every attempt they made to explain themselves since. There was nothing they were going to say to me that could make their involvement any less painful. I know all the charges were dropped after they disclosed the tunnel maps and trade routes for product moving in and out of the city. I think I could have forgiven just the tunnels, in time, but Aedion was helping run the street fights and Gavriel knew what businesses were operating under the table. I just can’t help but think had they spoken up about Arobynn’s illegal dealings, he might not have had the network, power, or capital to have had my parents murdered.”

And there it was. The repulsive, dark truth that had been festering deep within the walls of her heart for years. Resentment and hate bitterly clamored up her throat as she bent over, hands braced on her thighs, gasping for air. Was she a monster for having no understanding, no compassion for her family? Was she wrong to blame them? Was she as cruel as Arobynn?

The world started to tip, black spots filling her vision as her knees buckled and the ground growing increasingly closer. Familiar muscle flushed against the side of her body, guiding her delicately down. “I don’t know much Fireheart, but there is no world in which you could ever compare to a man like that.”

One hand held firm against the crown of her head, keeping her upright, while the other ran long, soothing strokes down her back. Nothing else was said between them as they sat there. It could have been five minutes or two hours—Aelin wasn’t sure, but she thanked the gods for the still silence and for the friend she’d found in Rowan. Tonight, had been one of courage and candor, and she had faced it head on.

She had not yielded when her heart and head had been screaming otherwise. The world, her world was shifting. It was a dull throb somewhere in the depths of her bones, demanding to be felt, noticed.

Change was coming and she would no longer be afraid.

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leiawritesstories · 3 months

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Sweater

for @throneofglassmicrofics prompt: "sweater," Elide x Lorcan

word count: 623

warnings: minor swearing

oopsies, it definitely isn't March yet, but this basically wrote itself while i was TRYING to read stuff for my capstone. so...enjoy!!

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"Li, where's my socks?" Lorcan's yell echoed down the hallway.

Elide rolled her eyes as she pulled on her short boots. "In the dryer where your laundry still is, babe!"

"Dammit!" With a bout of muffled cursing and a series of thumps and grunts--her boyfriend was many things, but graceful was not one of them--Lorcan jogged down the hall and through the living room, stopping to openly admire his girlfriend's outfit before he ducked into the laundry room.

"You look amazing, shortcake."

"Don't call me that, you giraffe," she laughed, but the complaint was teasing. "Hurry up and get a shirt on, and we can go."

He nodded and went into the laundry room. The dryer door clanged open, he ruffled around for a moment, and there was a moment of quiet before he cracked open the door, scowling.

"Babe?" Elide went over to the laundry room. "Everything okay?"

"Fuck no," Lorcan grumbled.

She raised a brow. "You gonna tell me what's wrong, or are you gonna keep sulking like a kid?"

Slowly--very slowly--he pushed open the door. The scowl etched into his face would have made anyone else pee themself, but Elide knew her grumpy boyfriend too well to be dissuaded. She glanced over at him.

Then she looked for a good long minute, using all of her self-control not to burst out cackling.

"That's 100% wool, isn't it?" she managed to ask.

"Yeah." Lorcan's dark-gray sweater, which Elide loved to steal, clung to his wide shoulders and muscled arms, the fabric stretched nearly to its limit, and stopped just barely past his ribs, exposing the tattoos inked onto his side. "It is."

"Babe...you know you can ask me if you're not sure what to do with your clothes..."

"I didn't want to sound like an idiot," he admitted, his words muffled from him hiding his face in his hands. "And you can laugh, Li. I know you want to."

Elide wrapped her arms around Lorcan's firm, bare stomach and dissolved into laughter, her petite frame shaking against his much larger one. "I was trying not to, but oh my god."

He let loose a dry chuckle. "I know."

"If I had my phone on me, you'd never hear the end of this." She flashed him a wicked little smirk.

"God, no," he groaned. "Aelin is not fuckin' allowed to know about this."

"Don't worry, babe." Elide ran her fingers up her boyfriend's chest. "She won't." She grabbed the hem of Lorcan's horribly shrunken sweater. "C'mon, you still have to change."

Lorcan pulled off the sweater, tossing it to the floor, and pulled a thankfully still normal-sized shirt over his head. "You might as well take it," he said, "it's your size now, shortcake."

"Don't call me that," Elide retorted, her nose crinkling.

"Why not? You're tiny and cute, like a shortcake."

"And you're a big old softie." She winked at him as she reached down, picked up his sweater, and changed into it right in front of him. "It fits perfectly!" she exclaimed, doing a little spin.

"On second thought..." Lorcan's appreciative gaze lingered on the sight of Elide in his clothes.

"Oh no." She shook her finger in his face, trying to be as menacing as possible while pushing aside the way she wanted to climb into that look in his eyes. "We are not putting off this lunch; we haven't seen our whole friend group in months."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just don't say anything about my sweater, Li."

"I would never," she promised, rising onto her tiptoes and tugging his head down to steal a kiss. "Love you, grouchy."

"Love you too, shortcake." He linked his fingers through hers as they walked out the door. "Especially in my clothes."

~~~ TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added or removed!

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

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@silentquartz

#my writing #throne of glass #throne of glass microfics #elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #elorcan fanfic #elorcan fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #answered prompt #oops it definitely isn't march lol #here's an early prompt fill though!!

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morganofthewildfire · 2 years

Text

Fic Announcement!

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Don't Say You Need Me

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a rowaelin fic

based on the album Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey

CW: themes of domestic abuse, violence, suicidal ideation, drug use, language, mature content, NSFW

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Meeting Arobynn Hamel had been both the best and the worst day of her life. It was hard to reconcile the two, to let it sit in her head that was already so fucking broken. How was she supposed to acknowledge the benefits of that day while also knowing how utterly it’d ruined her?

All she knew was that that day had irrevocably changed her life. And she was still reeling from the blow.

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coming soon...

@shyvioletcat

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@leiawritesstories

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@wordsafterhours

@story-scribbler

@mybloodrunsblue

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@dealfea

@whoever-you-choose-to-love

@tomtenadia

@house-of-galathynius

@1islessthan3books

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@shadowwolf777

@fireheart-violet

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@rhysandswingspan

@poisonous00

#rowaelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowaelin au #throne of glass au #dont say you need me #dsynm

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rowanaelinn · 2 years

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i challenge you to write something with no dialogue. go. :))

Although she couldn’t hear anything, Aelin’s mind was still assaulted from everywhere. Anxiety buzzing, feeling it in her finger tips and lips.

Navigating as a deaf person wasn’t easy. Not when she couldn’t rely on her ears to know when to cross the road, if anyone was speaking to her or even just for classes.

And yet, Aelin insisted on attending a regular high school. She didn’t know why, maybe it was because it was her only chance at catching any hint of normalcy.

Someone hit her with their bodies from her back, her body pushed to the floor. Anxiety faded away, replaced by anger.

Someone’s hands tried to help her stand, but she slapped them away. Turning around to see one of the boys on the football team. She didn’t know him, but his shirt was a pretty good hint.

You fucking idiot, she signed, anger pulsing in her veins.

She could read on lips, the only thing allowing her to attend classes in this high school with her friends. And the jackass, she refused to think of him as a good person for at least twenty minutes, tried to apologise.

Some deaf people could talk, but Aelin wasn’t one of them. Mute and deaf. That was what she was, and she didn’t have a problem with it. She liked herself that way.

He took a step in her direction, she took a step back. She wasn’t comfortable with people around her.

He kept trying to speak, and to walk into her direction, and Aelin could only sign, I’m deaf, you idiot. Stay away from me.

The jackass was pushed by a silver-haired guy, and Aelin couldn’t read on his lips with his back to hers. The conversation seemed pretty heated, people around staring.

Jackass looked at her before leaving, shaking his head on the way. Yeah, bye bye, asshole.

The silver-haired guy turned around, and Aelin was almost breathless when she saw his face. He was beautiful, his features sharp and yet soft at the same time, and his eyes…

She wanted to lose herself in these eyes.

I’m sorry, he signed, surprising the hell out of her. He can be stupid. Are you hurt?

Her mouth was slightly agape, and she swallowed back her surprise before asking, You know how to sign?

He smiled, I learned most of sign language a few months back.

Not a lot of people mastered this language, and the fact that this boy did just made her more and more attracted to him.

She blushed, I’m Aelin. Thank you for earlier.

I know. We have english together, he answered. I’m Rowan. Two seats behind you.

How had she never noticed him? That wasn’t fair. Rowan was a pretty name, not a common one.

Good to know for next class.

He smiled at her, still keeping his distance. I suppose it is.

She bit her lip and signed, See you in two days, Rowan.

She left, only winking at him. Next class would be fun.

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod d // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads

#ask #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction

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dreamingofmydestiny · 10 years

Text

OMG I Can't America is so great! She's so real.

"My plan is to enjoy the food until you kick me out."

I am so excited to keep reading these books can I just say I am sooooo entertained!

#the selection #Thank you #wordsafterhours #America #This book

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wordsafterhours · 3 months

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Author's Note: Pretty self explanatory what this is! Six months later and I am working my best to start churning out chapters again and finishing this thing up with quality content. That's the dream anyways. Also, contemplating a part 2 to "Hawk White" :)

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Tangy iron filled her mouth, an unintended consequence of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of her lip; a pitiful attempt at stifling how marvelous it all felt. Her head tipped sidewise, temple resting against her leg now, granting Rowan better access to the column of her neck. Strong fingers pressed beneath the hollow of her ear, steadfastly following muscle tract to just above her collar bone. Featherlight, he grazed the length of the delicate bone before returning to his starting point, again dragging firmly down in the same pattern, heat seeping in, washing away tension like ocean tides against sand.

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#songs about you #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan and aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #slow burn #wordsafterhours #snippet #mini update #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fic #throne of glass au

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wordsafterhours · 2 years

Text

Songs About You: Masterlist

Summary: Aelin's life is turned upside down when she meets a man that pushes her boundaries and makes her question everything she thought she wanted. Forced to make decisions and confront painful things from her past, she can no longer hide in the world she's created for herself.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Rowan's POV

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

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wordsafterhours · 2 years

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 10 (Rowan's POV)

Author's Note: Surprise! I hope you guys like this little snippet in Rowan's POV :) I'm currently writing chapter 11 but I thought it would be fun to do a R POV since we haven't seen once since the very start of this fic. Also, it's unedited (like all my stuff) so apologies for the errors.

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

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Being an adult had certain perks—the freedom to make your own choices, stay up all night, drink alcohol. But it also had certain downfalls, like the cognizance that time could pass in the blink of an eye. That you closed your eyes one day for a second too long and now it was a new month. Rowan felt like he’d only blinked, and it was a new month.

Since the “incident” as he referred to it, he’d been struggling to appreciate the days’ time for what it was. Not one to let things fester, he had tried to ignore Aelin fleeing his driveway, not even bothering to address her statement with Lyria. He hadn’t known the blonde long, yet he could see how easily she wore her heart on her sleeve. Likely, whatever had happened between the two women had been a misunderstanding made worse by Aelin’s emotional stance.

When he went back inside, Lyria offered nothing more regarding the situation, sticking to her prior statement that Aelin hadn’t been feeling well. His hiking group showed up not long after and he’d poured himself into the day’s activities, appreciative of the reprieve it gave. He’d be a liar though, if he said he didn’t catch himself staring at Lyria, analyzing her every word and movement, wondering if there was more to the story.

Lyria had stayed the night, declaring herself too tired to go home. He didn’t mind, really, choosing to enjoy their arrangement. Companionship without a label was working for them and he wasn’t in any hurry to change it. She had made comments here and there indicating she wanted to be his girlfriend—he studiously ignored them. Rowan cared for her; he wouldn’t let it go beyond that.

The day after the incident… that’s when he had found Aelin’s discarded bag on the back porch. Like a high school girl debating to talk to her crush, he toyed with the idea of texting her, letting her know she had left it. Eventually, he did and was subsequently left on read. 30 years old and left on read. The gods had a sense of humor for his life lately.

Now it was December and that stupid bag had been mocking him for weeks. It was perched on a chair by his front door, a constant testament that he didn’t even warrant a reply. He’d woken up today on the wrong side of the bed and her stupid bag was grating his last nerve.

“I’m taking you to the damn bookstore,” he declared, angrily slinging it over his shoulder as he locked up to leave the house. Naturally, all the contents of the bag spilled into the passenger seat and floorboard when he chunked into the truck. A curse word accompanied each item he placed back into the bag.

He was ready to be done with this and her. He was crazy for ever thinking the two of them could be friends. Her ego and lack of manners drove him crazy. She was emotional and he liked to think he was pretty even tempered. Also, he despised the way she organized some of the sections in her store, it made zero sense in his type A brain.

Rowan had the address for Present Tense and the two routes he could take to get there memorized which meant he didn’t have to listen to the music dim as his phone gave directions. Scrolling through his various playlists, he decided to forgo is usual musical choices, selecting something with a more alternative edge. Highly Suspect’s “Natural Born Killer” began to blast through the cab, it’s hard beats a welcome distraction. By the time he reached the store, his mood at improved slightly, leaving him confident he wouldn’t bite her head off when he handed over her bag.

Bag in tow, he rounded the corner and peered into the large windows of the store. The lights were on and the fire lit, but he didn’t see Aelin, or anyone else for that matter in the store. The front door displayed its open sign, the door handle unlocked, moving freely when he jiggled it. A familiar tinkling of bells overhead sounded as he pushed into the store, drowning out any other noise for a few seconds.

Rowan pushed the door flush, looking around for Aelin, and still not seeing the familiar hair of blonde hair anywhere. That’s when he heard it, loud retching and choking noises, like someone was struggling to maintain their airway. His green eyes darted across the store, desperately seeking the source of the sound. The hallway behind the desk where the bathroom and Aelin’s office were was dark; the sound was too loud to be that far away.

The heaving started again, only this time punctuated with muffled cries. “Aelin! Aelin is that you?”

Heave. Heave. Heave.

“Aelin!” he called out while walking to the register.

A loud thud his only answer. His heart seized in his chest when he looked over the countertop. Aelin was ghostly white splayed out on the floor, her hair wet and stuck to her face. Her breathing was fast, shallow. He said her name twice but no response.

Rowan dropped to his knees, slipping his arms beneath her back and pulling her up against his body. Despite her skin being wet with perspiration, it felt cool to the touch. Resting his chin against her temple, he pleaded for her to wake up. His heart was pounding hard against his rib gage as he prayed to Mala for her to do something, anything to let him know she was okay.

Aelin’s small frame tensed in his arms and before his brain could process what was happening, she was pushing herself away from him, turquoise eyes wild, shocked. His own were as wide as half dollars, not understanding why she’d reacted like a terrified wild animal caught in a hunter’s snare. Holding out his hand in calm reassurance, he inched forward to help her up. The woman slid back with a violent shake of her head back and forth, a silent rejection.

He ignored her, moving forward again.

“Don’t,” Aelin whispered, her voice firm in warning.

Worry continued to bloom uncomfortably in his chest, newly accompanied by a note of hurt. Aelin seemed absolutely rattled by something and didn’t trust him enough to accept help. He knew their friendship was tenuous but the look in her eyes was going to haunt his dreams for months to come.

“Aelin, what’s the matter?”

“I said don’t,” she cautioned, louder than before.

He was not going to let her best him, regardless of the situation. He would get to the bottom of this, warnings be damned. “I heard you, but I don’t care. What. Is. The. Matter?”

The little bit of color that had returned to her cheeks was receding, the pale white hue taking over once more. She sprang up, dropping her head between her knees, and Rowan took the opportunity to move closer. He stood over here, green meeting turquoise as she looked up at him. “Aelin’s can you just tell me what’s wrong?”

She nodded no, placing her head between her legs, body visibly spasming as she started heaving again. An agonizing cry sent Rowan to his knees as he cradled his body around hers. He pressed his cheek into hers, forcing her to brace against his left arm. Despite being much smaller than him, his body was shaking by proxy. “You’re shaking,” he cooed, unable to keep the pain from his voice. He felt her stiffen and try to pull forward, but he held his grasp firm, hushing her.

“Aelin, I need to know that you’re alright. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

A few calm minutes passed with no response, so he pried once more. “Can you tell me what you has so upset, Ae?” His arms gripped her tighter, preventing possible escape. “Aelin, I’m serious. If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

The lack of response was both tiresome and worrisome and Rowan had had enough. He shifted Aelin so that she was sideways in her lap, allowing him to cradle her face with his free hand and force eye contact. The gold rings in her eyes were muted, the turquoise flat, lifeless. Her lids closed, effectively shutting him out. A pang stabbed his chest as his heart ached for her at her having been reduced to this panicked version instead of the vibrant, stubborn, fiery person he’d known her to be.

“Please don’t,” he asked, a last-ditch effort to get her to open up.

“Can’t what?” his voice gentle.

“I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his 6’4” frame becoming a solid wall of alarmed muscle. “Do what?”

“Keep living,” Aelin admitted so softly it was almost as though she hadn’t spoken at all. Rowan stared at her in disbelief. Had he just heard her right?

“Aelin. What the fuck happened?”

“Arobynn,” she said succinctly.

“Arobynn?” he repeated, confused. The way she said the name was like he should know whom she was referring to.

“He was their friend.”

“Whose friend? I don’t understand.”

More tears escaped her closed lids and were soon accompanied by silent cries, her body shuddering in untold grief. Rowan didn’t ask her to expand on what she meant, instead he continued cradling her, resting his head against hers as she soaked the front of his red shirt. He would hold her forever if it meant the tears would stop falling. He’d never heard someone sound so broken. He himself was no stranger to pain, having lost both his parents tragically, but somehow, this was different. It was as if there was only despair occupying her, allowing nothing else.

Eventually, Aelin’s tears stopped. His arms refused to loosen, as though they were solely responsible for holding together all her broken parts. “Arobynn Hamel was my parents’ best friend. He was my uncle and one of my favorite people in the world. Growing up there wasn’t a happy memory he wasn’t in.”

“But you said he’s responsible for your parents’ death?”

Aelin cleared her throat. “Arobynn James Hamel is a murderer.”

Rowan’s breath audibly caught in his throat as her admission sunk in. He could feel his heart heart racing, bordering on beating right out of his chest. It suddenly all made sense—what he had walked in on earlier. There was still quite a bit of questions he needed answered but they would come in time, hopefully. Grappling with what to say, he elected to stay silent, not wanting to put his foot into his mouth.

“There’s more to the story but I just can’t today, Rowan. I can’t. I’ll tell you someday if you’re still around, but today, today I feel like dying and I can’t do much more but breathe in and out,” she declared candidly.

“I’ll be here.” And he would. Rowan could feel his promise echo into his bones. He’d tried to deny it, had successfully up until this point, he was undeniably drawn to Aelin and could not stay away anymore, consequences be damned.

“What?” she asked, surprise heavily coloring the one word.

His thumb brushed against her lower lip causing her to open her eyes. His dark green ones were serious as he met hers. “I’ll be here.”

Aelin’s berry-colored lip quivered beneath his thumb. “I haven’t scared you off?”

Rowan felt his lips quirk slightly upward in a smile at her remark. “No, I’m afraid it’ll take more than a borderline catatonic, panicked meltdown to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

“To whatever end?”

“Yes, Aelin, to whatever end.”

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Tag List:

@rowanaelinn @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

#Rowan's POV #Songs About You #Rowan #Aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au #enemies to friends #wordsafterhours #aelin's court #aelin galythinius #snippet

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wordsafterhours · 2 years

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 9

Author's Note: I spent all day writing this because I wanted it to be perfect and have some substance. I wanted to develop their relationship on a level we hadn't yet seen in this story. Apologies if it's choppy or repetitive. I need work on my progression of stuff, which will come in time because I haven't written consistently in a very long time. Practice makes perfect as the saying goes. Thank you for all who read this and stick with it despite my short comings, you really do push me to do and write better.

*I'm very excited for the next chapter as there will be a major reveal :)

Word Count: 4.7k (heyooooooo, longest one yet)

Snippet - Chapter 9 Poster

Masterlist

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The first thought that crossed Aelin’s mind wasn’t that her cheek was pressed into Rowan’s bare and sweaty chest, or that his hands were splayed across her exposed lower back, holding her close, or that again, he had managed to catch her off guard.

No, the first thought was how he smelled like Yulemas and Oakwald Forest in wintertime, of pine and snow. How she had never noticed before now was a mystery, especially considering how close they had been the night before. But her mind had been completely focused on something else entirely in that moment.

Now, flush against him, her nose and brain had no choice but to recognize yet another fact about Rowan Whitethorn. With all the physical labor he had been doing, he should have smelled strongly of sweat and masculine odor, but it was only faintly present and not the least bit off putting. Aelin was certain he was now one of her favorite smells and this moment would be ingrained in her mind for the foreseeable future.

She felt Rowan’s chest vibrate as he let out a small chuckle. “That tickles,” he confessed.

Confused, she craned her head back as far as her current position would allow, now able to see his pine green eyes sparking with light. Arching her brow, she encouraged him to explain.

“I think you were, uh, sniffing me. You kept moving face back and forth and it tickled,” Rowan said quietly in the space between them.

Aelin’s brows rose in shock. She hadn’t realized how obvious she had been, and it was mortifying he’d noticed. What would he think if he knew how she’d watched him silently from behind a tree? Unconsciously, she stepped back, trying to distance herself as she withered in embarrassment. His arms wouldn’t allow it though, tightening, pressing her back into his chest has he let out a low tut.

Was this his way of telling her it was okay? Was this a pity hug? Perhaps holding her close and plotting his next truth bomb?

She wasn’t sure the man knew how to lie. He always seemed to be so forth coming with whatever he was thinking, giving no care to how it made the other person feel. It was both refreshing and distressing. No one else she knew would have called her out on the sniffing.

Deciding he wasn’t letting go, Aelin tentatively put her arms around him, naked skin to naked skin. Her earlier assessment of his physique had been correct—Rowan was nothing short of defined muscle and hard planes. The pads of her fingers easily discerning the corded sinew beneath them. It took every ounce of self-control for her not to trace them.

A weight pressed upon the top of her head as Rowan rested his chin, still refusing to let go. Several times, she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but trepidation at what might follow, stopped her. Instead, she relaxed into him, enjoying the feeling of resting against him and allowing herself to just pause for a moment.

Whether this man knew it or not, he was giving her a gift by forcing her into whatever this was. Aelin wasn’t sure when the last time someone had just held her. Maybe that was her fault for the tone she’d set in her relationship with Chaol, keeping him close but somehow still at arms’ length, not allowing him to cross her deepest walls.

It was easier to ignore her problems and the spiraling depression that threatened to drown her most days if she never talked about it with anyone, never gave it an inch more in her life than it already had. To her friends and the outside world, she was strong, confident, resilient. A girl who had overcome life ending tragedy by finishing college and opening a successful business in the very district her parents had helped restore and preserve. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius had the world at her feet.

It was exactly how she wanted it. Showing only enough of herself to get by. Yet, as she leaned harder into his tall frame, owning up to just how tired she was didn’t seem daunting if he would be there to catch her. Aelin was only kidding herself though, the day when she gave into vulnerability and voiced how broken she was would never come because that would mean laying her heart bare, laying it open to be bulldozed again by loss. She would not survive it.

“Thank you,” Aelin mumbled into the warm skin of Rowan’s chest. He was owed at least that for quieting all the noise.

His arms tightened slightly in acknowledgement before loosening, signaling the moment had come to a close. Rowan stepped back and looked her up and down, his face betraying nothing. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for but assumed he was satisfied when he chose to speak, “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

Aelin waffled between telling a lie or being truthful. “I wasn’t, but curiosity won out.”

Not entirely truthful but not an outright lie either.

“I would have been at the house to greet you if you’d let me know,” he supplied without the usual barb he so often used when chastising her lack of manners.

“Want to know what I thought about on the way over here?”

He dipped his chin in a silent yes.

“I half thought I was on my way to be murdered. I thought I lived off the beaten path, but it doesn’t have anything on your house. Which is very you by the way,” she admitted sheepishly.

Rowan’s laugh was belly deep, reaching down into her very soul, further pushing Aelin into bewitchment. There was something so wonderous about other peoples’ joy, his especially, and she found herself laughing, too. “I’m glad you find my terror funny.”

“You have to admit it is a bit ridiculous.”

“It’s not! You say that because you’re not a woman. Besides, haven’t you watched true crime documentaries?”

“I say that because I’m a rational human and I like to think I don’t give off serial killer vibes. Maybe I’m wrong,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and looking expectantly at her for an answer.

“I don’t know, your personality is a little bit erratic,” she replied, trying her best to keep the tone flat and even. Inside though, she was smirking.

Rowan said nothing, appearing to be mulling over what she had said. The silence drug on and Aelin wondered if he had been that easily offended by her words. She was about to apologize when he jumped in her direction, acting as though he was going to grab her, and Aelin yelped, scrambling back and tripping over the same root from earlier.

A string of muttered curse words escaped her lips as she sat on the ground, trying her best to remain dignified despite having fallen on her ass. Rowan’s shadow loomed over her as he approached, extending his hand to help her up. Her turquoise eyes narrowed when she noted the subtle shaking of his body. He was laughing at her. Again.

Aelin ignored his olive branch, standing on her own and dusting herself off. “I rest my case,” she threw over her shoulder, refusing to look at him.

“Fair enough,” he acquiesced. She could hear him moving around behind her and felt something lightly graze her head.

“I’m not sure how you did it, but this was in your hair.” A scraggly branch entered her right periphery.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, if someone didn’t go around terrorizing me, I wouldn’t end up with sticks in my hair.” She turned, meeting his smiling face with her glare.

Was she being a child? Absolutely. Did she care? No.

“You started it by saying I had characteristics similar to a homicidal maniac!”

“So, acting like you’re going to grab me doesn’t provide evidence for the point?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

He did have the gall to look slightly sheepish, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “I can see where that might have been a bit alarming.”

“A bit? ‘A bit alarming’ he says.”

“How was I supposed to know you were going to fall on your ass?” His green eyes were alight with mirth clearly enjoying this too much.

“You’re just supposed to know. I guess you need to get better at premeditating others’ actions based on your own. You’d make a terrible serial killer, you’re right,” Aelin jested.

He flashed her a large smile, waving his hand for her to follow as he brushed by, his shoulder playfully bumping into her side. “Just so you know, no one is worth going to jail over. I’d sooner rot than be sentenced to the Salt Mines.”

An instantaneous wave of nausea brought on by crippling anxiety had her bending over, hands braced on her knees as she tried to breathe through the overwhelming urge to heave. She could hear the loud pounding of her heart in her ears, drowning out everything, even her own thoughts. Trying to regain composure over herself, she started counting the dead leaves on the ground at her feet. One. Two. Five. Thirty-three.

Rowan was new to her life. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that those simple words would and could bring her very world to its knees the minute they were uttered. He wasn’t like the rest of her friends and boyfriend, who had learned so quickly what triggered panic attacks. He hadn’t been around to see how she avoided newspapers, journalists, social media. How she avoided her remaining family. How she had essentially filtered her daily life to prevent anything triggering from falling through its cracks.

But she hadn’t accounted for him. Hadn’t accounted for someone who didn’t know that you couldn’t even joke about something like that, because it was never a joke to her. For her, it was real life and trauma and a house for her own monster come to life. Yet here she was, struggling to pull breaths in and out, drowning on dry land, unable to call for help. A victim of her own short-sightedness.

The stomach acid burned her throat, tears falling from the corner of her eyes as she refused to give into the panic more than she had. The blackened edges of her vision lessening and the thrumming white noise in her ears quieting just a little. Two hundred and five. Two hundred and six. Two hundred and seven. Aelin continued to count all the leaves she could see, eventually loosing count of the ones she had and hadn’t counted.

Exhausted and a little worse for wear, she stood and waited for the onslaught of questioning from Rowan she was sure she would get. Instead, she found him staring at her with a concerned expression, the dogs sitting at his feet. He was farther away than she had anticipated, and she wasn’t sure where Fleetfoot or Elliot had come from. In the moment, her panic attacks felt as though they lasted forever but only really were a couple minutes. This one, though, seemed like it had drug on for some time.

Neither said anything, waiting for the other to broach the elephant. If he didn’t have the conviction to ask her, Aelin wasn’t going to volunteer the information herself. With an exaggerated shrug her only response, she closed the distance between them, falling to her knees at his feet. The two dogs were immediately upon her, nuzzling her tear-stained face with their cold noses.

Fleetfoot seemed to be especially intrusive into her personal space, likely discerning how poor her emotional state was. Aelin hadn’t had a panic attack like that in front of her dog and it saddened her because she didn’t want to stress her out. “I’m okay girl,” she reassuringly cooed into golden fur.

Rowan dropped a hand onto Aelin’s shoulder, and she flinched, not expecting it. He quickly withdrew, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“It’s fine,” she quickly supplied, standing up and doing her best to appear unbothered.

He started several times to say something but eventually opted to pick up his axe instead. He pointed to a log carved into a sitting bench, never saying anything. He went back to splitting the large stump he had laid out before and she took her seat, mindlessly watching him. Too lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t realized he had stopped until a book was thrust in front of her face. Her fair hands grabbed it and Rowan sat down at the opposite edge of the bench, drinking from his bottle.

Aelin ran her hands over the worn, faded leather cover. Her fingers could feel slight indentations on the front and spine but couldn’t make out the title, lettering long gone. She opened it, leafing through the worn pages—it was a book of poetry. A lick of surprise went through her, and she briefly looked over at the silver-haired man, trying to reconcile this new fact against what she knew about him. Whatever she had expected the book to be, wasn’t this.

Looking back, the noted the page she had stopped on to be particularly discolored at the edges and the top right corner creased, indicating it had been dog-eared many a time. Aelin was familiar with the writer of poem, e.e. cummings but hadn’t read much of his work. The poem at hand, “Little Tree”, seemed fitting given their current location. Opting to read it aloud, she cleared her throat before beginning:

little tree

little silent Yulemas tree

you are so little

you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest

and were you very sorry to come away?

See I will comfort you

Because you smell so sweetly

I will kiss your cool bark

And hug you safe and tight

Just as your mother would,

Only don’t be afraid

Look the spangles

That sleep all the year in a dark box

Dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,

The ball the changes red and gold the fluffy threads,

Put up your little arms

And I’ll give them all to you to hold

Every finger shall have its ring

And there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy

Sometime during the reading, Rowan had leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. She might have thought him asleep if not for the pleasant smile he was wearing and the occasional tap of his foot against the ground. She went back to the book, finding another tattered page, again reading its contents audibly.

It was several poems later when Rowan finally found his voice again. “This was my mother’s favorite book. She started reading these to me before I was even born, and I can remember begging for her to read to me as a boy. When she passed, I started reading them to my father by the fire after dinner as a way for us to keep her close.”

Aelin turned towards him, finding his eyes still shut, his face marred with nostalgia. “When my father passed, the book became a way to keep them both close. I’m certain one day that I will have worn the very ink from those pages and will only know what they should say because I’ve spent my whole life with them,” he lamented in sad candor.

She wanted to say a million things to him, to acknowledge how much she understood the feeling. She wanted to tell him how each day she had to fight with herself to get out of bed because she too had lost her parents and it had left a gaping hole in her chest. She wanted to tell him that she had a book, just like this, that she kept in her bedside table and read in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep because the words felt like a hug from her parents. She wanted to tell him how his hug earlier had soothed something inside of her that had been crying out for years. But she did none of those things.

Instead, she only offered up a sliver of a response, “I used to read to my dad by the fire after dinner, too. I think it’s probably where my love of literary works started.”

The pair fell into comfortable silence after her admission which Aelin was glad for. She wasn’t sure how much of herself she could volunteer up before he started asking questions that she wasn’t ready to or willing to answer. She liked Rowan, liked him even more because he could be held at arm’s length without much of an explanation. They were friends at best; she didn’t owe him anything at this point.

Deciding to mimic Rowan’s position on the bench, Aelin untucked her legs and stretched them out, toeing the forest floor with her boots. As she drug them back and forth in the dirt, it occurred to her, he had never disclosed why he’d asked her over in the first place. Or why she needed good shoes.

“Why am I here?” she blurted out.

“What?” he countered, sounding half asleep.

“Why am I here? You never told me.”

“It’s Saturday.” His succinct response left her feeling like she was supposed to know what that meant.

“And?”

Rowan, clearly frustrated at her lack of understanding, huffed as he stood. “Hiking. The hiking group I lead meets on Saturdays. It’s Saturday.”

He had mentioned that in the bookstore during her probing about Lyria. It hadn’t really registered in her mind at the time because it wasn’t the most important part of their conversation. Now she remembered and felt slightly dumb in having forgotten. “I remember now. Sorry, it was a long night, and my brain still is bogged down by the aftereffects of drinking.”

“Well, you can have aspirin and water back at the house, it should help. We need to head back that way anyways, it’s almost time for people to start showing up.”

Rowan didn’t wait for response before plucking the forgotten book off the bench and letting out a low whistle to garner Elliot’s attention. She didn’t bother calling for Fleetfoot, as the two were connected at the hip. Aelin followed close on Rowan’s heels, taking in the last moments that they would have together, just the two of them. He hadn’t put back on his shirt, leaving her the opportunity to slyly look him over once more. The man was unfairly attractive.

As they ascended the gentle slope behind his cabin, Aelin could see a light on through the back window. She thought it odd. There had not been light on before and Rowan had been with her the entire time. Rowan didn’t seem to notice or if he had, likely thought he had left it on.

He opened the back door but stopped in the entry way, surprising Aelin. Her hands unconsciously splayed out on his back to steady her. He felt tense beneath her hands, and she didn’t know why. His frame took up the entire doorway, limiting her view which made her impatient. The promised glass of water and pain medicine was calling her name.

“Hey, I wondered where you were,” Lyria said, her voice light, warm, and betraying a level of familiarity between the two. Aelin didn’t need to see her to know the smile the dark-haired woman was wearing.

“Lyria,” he acknowledged in a clipped manner.

Aelin didn’t know Rowan well, but she knew enough to know that he wasn’t happy with Lyria being in his house. She pushed slightly on his back, hoping to move him forward. He could sort out his boundaries or lack thereof after he let her in the house. It was awkward to be hidden behind him.

He didn’t move much to Aelin’s chagrin. “You didn’t call.”

“No, I saw your truck was here, so I figured you were out somewhere with Elliot. I wanted to set up the snacks and drinks I brought before the group showed up,” Lyria explained.

“Well, next time can you give me a heads up that you’ll be hijacking the kitchen?”

“You usually don’t mind,” she answered. “But yes, I’ll let you know in the future. Now, come inside and try these! It’s a recipe from Doranelle. I can’t remember the name… it loosely translates to ‘meat on a stick’.”

Aelin’s breath caught in her throat as she listened to what Lyria said. Her mind flashing back to first day she met Lyria in Present Tense when the woman was looking for a cookbook with Doranelle recipes. Now here Lyria was, using the cookbook Aelin had procured for her to impress Rowan. The porch suddenly felt too small. The awkwardness she felt earlier was nothing compared to what it was about to be.

Rowan maneuvered his left arm behind him, grabbing and pulling her forward as he side-stepped into the house. She had no choice but to confront the situation head on.

Lyria’s chestnut eyes flashed quickly in what looked like disdain but disappeared too quickly for her to be certain. The smile affixed on her face seemed forced. “Hi, Aelin! I didn’t know you were here.”

“I had a free weekend and thought I’d try something new,” Aelin lamely answered. Given more time, she would have come up with a better lie, but her anxiety seemed to be short circuiting her brain.

“You know I love having new people join us,” Rowan’s lilting voice sounded behind her.

“Yes, you do,” Lyria agreed enthusiastically closing a cupboard door a too harshly.

“I’m going to go rinse off. I can feel woodchips stuck in places they ought not to be stuck. Can you get A a glass of water and some aspirin, please?” he asked before heading up stairs she hadn’t noticed until now.

With ease, Lyria opened the appropriate cabinets, grabbing a glass and bottle of medication. She filled the glass and set it on kitchen island looking expectantly at Aelin.

Aelin opened the bottle, quickly downing two pills with water. She cautiously sat down and watched Lyria continue to plate the spread. The meat on a stick smelled excellent, as did the bread she was slicing. “That looks wonderful. I see the cookbook came in handy,” she praised.

Lyria’s movements faltered slightly with Aelin’s compliment, and she wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything. “I won’t say anything to him,” she said quietly to her, trying to undo whatever hole she’d just dug for herself.

“It’s not any of my business what you two talk about. Although, I wasn’t aware you two did much talking.”

Aelin’s brows pinched in confusion, her mind attempting to work through what Lyria was implying. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Lyria stopped slicing the bread altogether, laying the knife down. Her expression was hard, her chestnut eyes roaming over Aelin’s face. “Rowan hasn’t mentioned you two being friends. I know all his friends. He’s a pretty private person and doesn’t share his personal time with people outside his friend group.”

There it was.

Lyria was marking her territory: Rowan. And by proxy, his friends, this house. Elliot. She didn’t have to say it in so many words but her actions, her attitude, they said more than plenty. Aelin once thought her terribly sweet but now, she saw her for what she was, a flowering thorn bush. Pretty at first glance yet with closer inspection, riddled with barbs.

Aelin wanted to give into the anger she could feel burning beneath her skin’s surface, to knock Lyria down a few pegs, but she did not. It wouldn’t help. “I don’t know that we’re really friends. I think he invited me because he felt bad for his past behavior.”

“Past behavior?”

That hole she mentioned earlier, it was quickly on its way to being her grave. “He got into a fight with a customer in the store,” Aelin casually presented in explanation.

“That doesn’t sound like Rowan at all,” Lyria countered in disbelief.

“Well maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

Lyria rounded the island coming to stand in front of Aelin, which was more like over her, as Aelin was still sitting. “I know him better than anyone else,” Lyria angrily declared into the limited space between them.

Aelin slid her stool back and stood, toe to toe with Lyria. If she thought she was going to intimidate her, she had another thing coming. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here Lyria, but I don’t like it. Quite frankly, Rowan is grown enough to decide who he talks to, and he does not need anyone’s permission, lest of all yours.”

“I’m just making sure you know where I stand in his life,” Lyria stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Understood, message received,” Aelin confirmed with an embellished thumbs up. She tried to stop there but when Lyria looked a little too satisfied, she couldn’t stop what came out next, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a boyfriend and I’m not out to steal the one you don’t even have.”

Aelin brushed past Lyria, refusing to give her a moment more of her time and headed out the backdoor, harshly closing it. The idea of hiking through the woods with Rowan and his club hadn’t sounded terrible until now. She didn’t see her dog anywhere and Fleetfoot wasn’t responding to her whistles, but she knew she’d come running when she started the SUV. Fleetfoot loved to go for rides.

As she rounded the front of the house, making for the driveway, the front door opened, and Rowan came barreling out yelling her name. She ignored him, getting into the vehicle and starting it up. Damn Fleetfoot for not already being in the car.

“Aelin, open the door. Or roll down the window. Talk to me. Where are you going?”

Still, she ignored him, watching the rpm handle bob up and down as the engine idled.

“Can you at least open the door for your dog or are you leaving her too without an explanation?” he asked, angry.

His words stung. Her turquoise orbs welled with tears, this all feeling a little too much like something Chaol would say to her.

Aelin hastily threw the driver side door open, narrowly avoiding Rowan and Fleetfoot only because he had been paying attention. She couldn’t see his face but could tell his hair was down, water darkening the t-shirt where it touched. Afraid her voice would betray her, she motioned for him to put the dog into the driver’s seat.

Carefully, he bent down, stuffing his upper body into the vehicle as he loaded Fleetfoot up. She expected him to move so she could leave but instead, he remained in the doorway.

“Can you move please; I want to go home.”

“Not unless you tell me what happened. You were fine when I left you and gone when I came back. Lyria said you weren’t feeling well.” One of his hands tipped her chin up, forcing her to acknowledge his gaze and line of questioning.

“It’s nothing,” she lied, attempting her best to be convincing by keeping the answer short, concise.

“If it was nothing, Aelin, you’d be staying. Would you not?”

“I wish everyone would quit telling me about me. It’s maddening,” she declared, throwing her hands up and shrugging his off in the process.

“What happened?” he pleaded again, stepping towards her.

She stepped back, shaking her head. He stepped forward, not heading her “no”, she stepped back again. “Aelin, what’s wrong?”

Angry Rowan pushed her buttons. Half-naked Rowan made her core flush with heat. Laughing Rowan warmed her soul. Pleading Rowan, with his lilting accent, he had the power to lay waste to all her defenses if she let him. Her resolve was wavering and if she didn’t give him the smallest bone now, she would regret it later, or worse, he might after he realized how good and truly fucked up she was.

“Go ask your girlfriend,” Aelin yelled, shutting the door to her SUV and throwing it into drive. Further tormenting herself, she glanced in the rearview mirror to see him still standing there, watching her leave.

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#songs about you #wordsafterhours #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin x rowan #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan #aelin #slow burn #lyria #aelin ashryver galathynius #Elliot #man bun

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