#aelin birthday

[mariaofdoranelle]

Drawing up the Plans

If you saw my struggle here, now you know that I made it 🥳 ! Kinda. I still need to post a part 2 since I had no time to make it the oneshot it was meant to be. But it’s not midnight where I live yet so it’s pretty much still Rowan’s birthday loll

I’m also using a prompt from @rowaelinprompts

Happy birthday to Rowan!! Here’s a birthday fic

Warnings: language

Words: 940

Fenrys: if we were to throw a hypothetical party this sunday

Fenrys: would you be mad if i brought asterin?

His girl for the month. Rowan rolled his eyes at his phone while pressing the elevator button, eager to get to his house and rest. He texted back:

Rowan: You’re throwing a hypothetical party on my birthday?

Fenrys: kinda

He pressed on the button again, as if it would come faster. For fuck’s sake, when Rowan moves to a new place after he graduates, he’ll sure check how fast the elevators are.

The answer was decided, Rowan was just thinking of the best way to put it. Fenrys would bring this girl to the “surprise” party, force Rowan to interact with this stranger and have pictures of her there for the rest of his life, just to get bored of her within the month like he usually does.

Rowan: No.

Fenrys: i can ask her to bring you a friend

Fenrys: as a hypothetical birthday gift

Rowan: No. You can give her a slice of cake after the party is over.

Rowan: Correction: The hypothetical party

When the elevator arrived, Rowan couldn’t help but lean on its wall. Is this the moment he regretted not spending the summer with his family? He could be sipping beer with his cousins for free at Uncle Ellys’ beach house, but of course he’d refuse the plane ticket his parents offered as a birthday gift to stay in Varese, being yelled at by his boss because apparently his customer service smile was too weird.

The thing is: his regrets decreased significantly when he got home.

Rowan was first greeted by the smell of burnt food and the sound of animated characters arguing on the TV. By how loud it was, he had no idea how Aelin managed to fall asleep on the couch. He took his sneakers off and kept his footsteps as soft as possible as he turned the TV off and sat beside her sprawled body.

She was half-clutching a bowl of burnt cookies. Knowing Aelin, she was eating them out of stubbornness. It was the only answer, considering how they looked.

He moved a strand of hair off her face. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Aelin’s eyes fluttered halfway open, just enough for her to settle around him, hug his middle and fall back asleep. Chuckling, he carefully picked her up to take her to her room before she got a sore neck.

When Vaughan moved out and Aelin asked to take his room in the apartment Rowan shared with Fenrys and Lorcan—and Elide from Thursdays to Mondays—he didn’t think much of it.

He didn’t think she’d sit on a stool and chat about their days while he chopped vegetables.

He didn’t think she’d fill his empty bathroom with six different hair masks and leave the bathroom smelling like lavender every time.

He didn’t think he’d fall head over heels in love with his friend.

Rowan quietly kicked her bedroom door open and placed her in the bed, his touch delicate as if Aelin was made of porcelain.

Once she was settled and Rowan was covering her with a blanket, she held his wrist. “Cuddles?”

A flood of warmth spread through Rowan’s body. He didn’t think twice before lying beside her on the bed, feeling her button nose nestle his collarbones for a few seconds before sliding against his neck and nuzzling his cheek.

More used to it each day, Rowan brushed his lips against hers. It was tender and idle, not quite matching the urge he felt with the way his blood hammered its way against his vessels, making his heart go a mile a minute. Aelin had her hand on his hair and cheek, playing their lips and tongue, nice and slow until he lost his mind.

The only reason he was letting her do that while half-awake was because it wasn’t their first time doing something like that, even if it wasn’t often, but Aelin was very awake in most of them. They never passed this stage—or even addressed what they were doing—and Rowan wouldn’t test her limits when she didn’t seem ready to cross them.

Feeling his heavy breathing, Aelin smiled against his lips. “You’re my favorite roommate, did you know that?”

He snorted. “Good to know it’s not Lorcan.”

Aelin wrinkled her nose, but pecked him once more after. “Do you have plans for your birthday?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” She squeezed his middle, pressing her face close to his booming heart. “Don’t make any.”

Rowan brushed her hair back, watching her drift off again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He decided to wait a little more before leaving her room. Not to watch her sleep, just for… reasons he couldn’t think of now. Rowan caressed her scalp, considering the turmoil of feelings he’s been through since he became aware of his feelings for Aelin. And how much of a good kisser she is.

Rowan would be lying if he said he didn’t want to tackle all the bases at once with her. He’d do every single thing that never left his mind if he could, but some things are meant to stay between a man, his shower and his hand. Whatever plans she had for him, he only wanted to know if he could keep his hopes up at all.

Truth was, if Aelin decided she’d do nothing more than hold hands for the rest of her life, Rowan would just hope his skin wasn’t too dry.

The only thing he needed to know was if she wanted him as something more than a friend or not.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #drawing up the plans #rowan’s birthday

[leiawritesstories]

1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Rowaelin Month, Day 28: Wartime Sweethearts AU

A/N: this might just be the most American thing i've ever written lmaooooo 😂😂 so here's the context: the fic is set during the American Revolutionary War, which took place from 1776-1781. Rowan is a soldier in the Continental Army (the American side) and Aelin is the only daughter of a Loyalist (sympathetic to the British) family. and they're star-crossed lovers, yay!! posting this partially as a lil birthday treat to myself but mostly for you, hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: archaic language (i'm a nerd lol), mentions of war, old outdated traditions, mentions of battle, brief mild angst, flirting

enjoy!!!

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

16th July 1778

Heart of my heart,

I write this in secret, barely able to make out my letters by the faint light of this single candle. I apologize for the sloppiness of my script; my governess would have a fit if she were to see this chicken scratch. Of course, I would then retort that she ought to have taught me to read and write in near darkness, as that is the more useful skill these days. 

A few words, my love–we are leaving in three days.Yes, leaving! Mother has only said that it was what she and Father thought best, given the current…unrest. I am perfectly capable of reading the unspoken words. We are leaving because they fear what our neighbors might do while we sleep. We are leaving because the English are so hated here. We are leaving because nobody has seen or heard from my brother in months. Nobody save me, that is. I know where Aedion went, and I know what he is doing. 

If you love me, Rowan, please send word that my brother is safe, that he is well clothed and has some form of roof over his head. Please. It will calm my nightly worries at least a small bit. 

I do not know where we will go, only that we cannot make a scene of our leaving. We must pretend that we are only going into town like we typically do, except that our cart will be full of our belongings, rather than grain and butter to trade. I suspect we shall attempt to head east, towards the port at Baltimore, and from there we shall attempt to book passage on a ship. Father seems convinced that returning to England is the best course of action. 

I do not want to leave. 

They do not know that, nor do they care. It breaks my heart to admit it, but they do not. They expect me to keep quiet and obey. I have heard them discussing the possibilities of our lives once we return to Mother’s family estate in England–marriage. My marriage. To some titled landowner’s spoilt son, who gives not a whit what I want or who I am as long as I can give birth. I refuse to subject myself to such a fate. 

Rowan, my love, I write this both as news and as a warning. I will not silently accompany my parents in their hasty retreat. I cannot abandon my brother in the middle of a war, nor can I leave you, the other half of my soul. 

I will be waiting for you, my love. I swear it. 

To whatever end,

AAG

~

Heart in his throat, Captain Rowan Whitethorn marched in step with his regiment up the muddy road leading into Baltimore. The bustling port city was largely unmarred by the war that continued to rage on, continuing to serve as major sea access for traders and soldiers alike. As he and the men that called him their leader entered the city proper, Rowan breathed a short, soft sigh of relief. They had two weeks of leave, unless they were called back into battle, and he fully intended to use those two weeks to the fullest. 

“Enjoy your leave, men.” He saluted. “We shall regroup here in two weeks.” The blue-jacketed men broke ranks and ambled into town, most of them probably dispersing to the nearest pleasure house for a good strong drink and as many hours with a woman as their few remaining coins could buy. Rowan didn’t begrudge them their pleasure. 

After years of war, they all needed whatever solace they could find. As did he. 

Fingers instinctively wrapping around the small, precious bundle of letters in his jacket pocket, Rowan strolled towards the calmer part of town, the residential section not so crowded with soldiers on leave, traders, merchants, shouting vendors, and all the rest of the noise, chaos, and diverse cast of characters that populated a thriving shipping town like Baltimore. He glanced at the street markers as he walked, searching for the one with a blue stripe painted around it. 

There. 

Pulse hammering louder than gunfire, he turned down that street and walked past tidy clapboard houses interspersed with the occasional grocer, butcher, baker, and seamstress. He was certain every single one of the handful of people he passed could hear his thundering heartbeat, but none of them had said anything to the young man whose ragged blue jacket marked him an officer in the Continental Army who was walking up their quiet street like it was perfectly normal for him to do. One motherly lady had simply offered him a smile and a “thank you, son,” which had struck him right to the heart. 

He emerged into a busier street, full of shops and taverns and public houses, the businesses bustling but not crowded with soldiers and sailors like the cheaper taverns down by the wharf were. Eyes scanning the signs, Rowan walked up the side of the street. The building he was looking for appeared suddenly in front of him. A brightly painted kingsflame flower adorned the pub’s wooden sign, its carefully wrought petals the work of a singular artist. An artist Rowan knew as well as his own heartbeat. 

With his heart in his throat, Rowan walked into the pub. Immediately, a peal of soft, faintly raspy laughter caught his ear, and his attention snapped to the bar at the back of the softly-lit, cozy space. Behind the well-worn oak bartop, her golden hair tied back with a blue rag that he recognized as his own old shirt, stood the woman who owned every last shred of his heart. 

Aelin Galathynius glanced over towards the door, and the whole sky lived in her vivid eyes. 

Tin clattered against the bar. 

Surprised grunts arose from a table full of stocky, gray-haired farmers. 

And with a rush of air and a strangled gasp of his name, Aelin was in his arms, tears glittering in her eyes, warm and solid and real and clinging to him as if her life depended on it. 

~

He was here. 

Rowan was here, whole and healthy and standing on his own two legs in a much-patched blue jacket and dirt-stained trousers and battered boots, and his eyes were on her alone. 

Aelin flew across the pub floor and all but leapt into her soldier boy’s arms, clinging desperately to him as if he would vanish unless she held him tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew in a deep lungful of his scent, the faint trace of mountain pines clinging to him even beneath the layers of sweat and grime. Hot, salty tears of joy leaked into his shirt through a tear in his jacket’s shoulder. 

She felt his deep, familiar chuckle rumble beneath her ear. “Why are you crying, my love?” 

“I’m crying,” she sniffled, raising her head to meet his adoring gaze, “because you smell so bloody awful that my eyes are watering.” 

He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. “God above, I missed you.” 

“I missed you more,” she returned, tracing her thumbs along the sharp juts of his cheekbones. “Every day felt like the longest one yet.” 

“I’m here now,” he murmured in the soft voice he only used for her. 

With tears pooled in her eyes, Aelin leant an inch forward and kissed him, her soldier boy, with all the pent-up fervor of the last several months. She’d been so terrified when her parents announced that they were leaving the Colonies, afraid that she would be uprooted from the life she’d come to love and forced to marry some stuffy lord and shut away in a manor house forever. The very idea that she would be forced to leave Rowan, her love, and Aedion, her brother, without knowing whether either of them would make it back to Baltimore unharmed was enough to disrupt her sleep. She had hardly dared to hope that her desperate escape plan would work until she stood on the pier and watched her parents’ ship depart without her on it. 

Every long day of pouring pints of beer for rowdy sailors, handsy soldiers, and disruptive drunken no-goods was worth it to have her soldier boy back in her arms. 

“Where–ah, Rowan!” Breathless, Aelin poked him in the ribs, pretending to disapprove of the promising way he kissed her throat. “We’re in public.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set her down onto her feet, caught her hand, and grinned. “I believe I need a bath, my love. Could you help me with that?” 

“You are incorrigible,” she laughed. She pecked a quick kiss on his lips and led him out of the pub and down the streets, turning into a quiet neighborhood and leading him up the front steps of a tidy little brick cottage with a blue front door. “Please be kind about the mess.” 

“I’ll show you a mess,” he whispered into her ear, far too tempting for his own good. 

She flushed, her cheeks staining bright pink. “Rowan!”

“Aelin,” he mimicked. They were safely inside the house, so he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months, love.” 

“And you’re going to bathe before you act out any of those dreams, my love.” Giggling, she ducked out of his embrace and led him down the short hall to a washroom. “The tub is full, but it might be cold.” 

“I don’t care if the water is cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his boots. “It’s a hell of a better bath than we get in the army.” 

She sighed fondly. “I’m still going to boil some water.” He made to protest, and she placed her fingers over his mouth. “Ah-ah, soldier boy. Let me spoil you. Besides, the hot water is half for your filthy clothes.” 

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He shed the rest of his dirty, worn clothing and climbed into the tepid bathwater, groaning quietly as he sank into a proper bath for the first time in too long. “Join me, love.” 

“Soon.” She kissed his forehead and dropped a washrag and a bar of soap into the tub. “When you stink a little less.” 

His playful growl followed her all the way out to the front room. 

~

Following the bath–where she had indeed joined her soldier boy and taken his mind off the weight of war for a few moments–and a hearty dinner, Aelin exchanged her regular blouse and skirt for a soft cotton nightdress, braided her hair, and settled into bed with a lantern lit on the side table and a novel in her hands. Rowan was in the washroom; the faint splashing of water indicated that he was scrubbing out his uniform like he insisted he wanted to. So she opened her novel to the page where she had last left off and lost herself in the tender romance unfolding amidst the pages. She was so absorbed in the novel that she didn’t notice the mattress shifting as Rowan climbed into the bed and settled down beside her. 

His soft, low chuckle drew her out of the novel-world. “Good story, Ae?” 

“Wonderful,” she murmured. Reaching the end of the chapter, she placed the bookmark, closed the book, laid it aside, blew out the lantern, and tucked herself into his side, her head against his chest. 

“I missed you,” he whispered after a peacefully quiet interval, stroking one hand idly up and down her back. 

“And I you.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes met his, months of pent-up yearning and uncertainty glossing their turquoise depths. “I am sorry I didn’t write more.” 

He soothed her worry with a gentle kiss. “I would likely have found you before your letters found me. ’Tis the life of a soldier.” 

She hummed in agreement. “On that note…when did you last see Aedion?” Her older brother, whom she loved dearly but whose rashness she did not ignore, had vanished from the Galathynius home early last spring, leaving no indication of where he was going or why. Aelin alone had an idea of what he had gone to do, because he had confided his wishes to her. He had gone off to be a soldier in the Continental Army, but his unit were scouts, which meant that he could be anywhere between Philadelphia and Yorktown. 

Rowan exhaled a long, controlled breath. “The last time our paths crossed was in September, at the camp outside Newport. He mentioned going south, but no details.” 

“South.” Aelin rolled the idea over in her mind, forcing herself not to consider the harsher implications. “Was he…how was he?” 

“Healthy, as far as I could tell, and tired, but so are all of us soldiers.” Rowan ran his hands along Aelin’s tense shoulders, encouraging her to relax. “He said to give you his love and that he’ll do unspeakably horrible things to me if I hurt you.” 

Aelin laughed. “Now that sounds like Aedy. Too protective for his own good, he is.” Idly, her touch trailed along the slope of Rowan’s shoulders, tracing the new scar that slashed from his right shoulder down towards his pectoral muscle. “Tell him that I will return the unspeakably horrible favor if either one of you does anything stupid.” 

“Indeed I shall.” Laughing softly, Rowan pulled Aelin flush against his chest, her heartbeat atop his, and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss, threading her fingers into his overgrown hair. 

“I don’t want you to go back,” she murmured after they had separated. 

He swallowed thickly. “We both know I must.” 

“I know.” Her voice was a fragile thread. “I’m keeping you all to myself for the next two weeks, though. It’s only fair.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my wildfire.” 

She smiled tenderly at him. “I love you too, my soldier boy.” 

~

Mid-November, 1778

Aelin, 

I apologize both for the shortness of this note and the fact that it took me so bloody long to write it. There is something I must tell you, and I can only hope that you hear it from Rowan rather than me and my paltry excuse for a letter. 

We are marching to Savannah. Intelligence has it that the Redcoats intend to advance upon the city, and we cannot let the stronghold go without a fight. 

I cannot promise that I will be able to write for any amount of time, and as much as I hate to do this, I leave you all my affection. I will stay as safe as possible, that I can promise. The moment I am able, I swear on my blood that I will come to you, and if possible, that I will bring Rowan. 

Stay strong for us, dear sister. 

Yours, 

Aedion

The short note had reached her in late January of 1779, after three and a half months of ever-increasing tension and worry spurred by the grim reports coming up from the South. Before he left in mid-November, the same time Aedion’s letter was dated, Rowan had revealed that his unit was headed to Savannah to reinforce the troops already there. He had been confident that, with the extra reinforcements, the Army would be able to stave off the British–if not all on their own, then at least long enough for the shipment of French troops to arrive. 

Just before the New Year, the newspapers reported Savannah’s defeat. 

Since then, all Aelin had received was silence. No letters, no notes, nothing listed in the papers, no weary soldiers showing up on her doorstep. The fact that Rowan’s and Aedion’s names remained out of the papers was but a small measure of comfort; all too often, fallen soldiers’ names never made it onto the listings. 

The cloth tying back her hair was black now, the only outward sign of suffering she would allow herself. The people who came into the pub noticed her quiet demeanor, the way her usual vivacious cheer was dampened, and passed quiet condolences to her across the worn oak bartop–a squeeze of the hand, a mourning mother’s shared tears, a word of comfort, a “thank-you” from someone who rarely spoke those words. It lifted her spirits a bit, but not much. 

Every night, she trudged home to her quiet little house, cradled a small watercolor portrait of Rowan–done a year ago, it was the only portrait she’d ever convinced him to sit for–stared down into his painted face, and refused to let her captive tears fall. Though her heart and soul ached for her soldier boy, though her sleep was disturbed by nightmarish imaginings of what could have happened or could be happening to him, she refused to let her tears fall until she knew his fate for certain. 

If nothing else, she owed him--and the child just beginning to stir inside her womb--that fragile hope.

~~~

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[caprifiles]

she was the heir of fire. she was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. she was aelin fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.

#throne of glass #tog #aelin ashryver galathynius #happy birthday aelin #mine #litedit

[thegreyj]

A simple drink

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEIA! 🥳 @leiawritesstories

May your birthday be amazing and incredible and full of magnificent stories!

Here's a little Rowaelin oneshot for you!

A simple drink

It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. The morning had started off fairly well, but when Rowan was picking up his usual coffee order, someone had crashed into him making his cup fly and spill its contents right on Rowan’s shirt. Of course he had to run back home and change. His apartment was on the opposite way from the coffee shop, so this detour made him quite remarkably late for work.

At the office Rowan had first managed to break the scanner while trying to get an important signed document copied. He tried to turn the machine off and on again, knowing that would be the first instruction their tech help would give him, but somehow that small, common function managed to mess up the settings of the machine. Rowan found himself staring at the tiny touch screen which displayed something that could very well be hieroglyphs to him.

His day of hell was just beginning. He’d been working on a presentation for months, knowing they were supposed to receive foreign visitors from a partner company that day. His boss Maeve was supposed to go over the presentation before actually presenting it to their guests, but the email attachment wouldn’t work and his boss couldn’t get it to open. Rowan then decided to just simply transfer it to a thumb drive and give it to Maeve. Somehow the entire presentation then vanished, making Rowan panic. 

His boss was not happy, which was how Rowan had ended up improvising a speech to the group of visitors. There was just one major problem with that; Rowan was not good with words, strange people or performing, so he pretty much tanked the entire speech. Trying to save the last remnants of his dignity, he tried to leave the conference room quietly. Only to end up face flat on the floor with the coffee cart on its side and the snacks rolling all over the hallway. The snacks that were meant for their visitors.

With the day not even halfway through, Rowan was completely done with the day. He just wanted to go for a nice, calm drink before going home and forgetting about the horrible day. Luckily the rest of his work went by without any major issues, only a couple of scheduling issues. And a virus on his office computer, which had been attached to an email sent by his friend and colleague, Fenrys, who just wanted to improve his friend's mood. Rowan did not find the dancing, multiplying penises on his desktop funny. In fact, he was mortified when he - once again - had to call the tech help department to come get rid of the virus.

Fenrys seemed to realise his mistake, and wanted to make it up by offering Rowan a drink after work. They made plans to meet up at their favorite bar once they had had a chance to change out of the stuffy work clothes and into something more fitting. Nothing could go wrong with going out for a simple drink, right?

Oh, how wrong Rowan was. Going out was not a bad thing in itself; what made it a bad thing was the fact that he was now accidentally crashing a private birthday party. Rowan did not like surprising situations or meeting with new people - strangers made him nervous - so this was practically a nightmare for him. Right from the moment he stepped inside the bar with Fenrys, they had been pulled along, party hats strapped on both of their heads and some disgusting colorful shots handed to them. Fenrys happily threw his shot down his throat, but Rowan just stared at the purple concoction with a frown, before stating that it looked unfit for human consumption. 

Of course his night of horror didn’t end there; how he ended up helping the birthday girl blow out the candles was a complete mystery to him as well. One minute he was trying to remove his party hat, the next a random leggy blonde was pulling him towards the middle of the pile of people, screaming it was time for cake. Keeping his hand in hers, she stood behind the cake singing the birthday song along with everyone else, before saying make a wish and blowing out the small flickering flames. Rowan was getting more and more confused, but not wanting to make a big deal out of himself, he decided to play along until he could leave.

Finally finding the perfect time to detach himself from the party group, Rowan ordered a whiskey from the bartender before successfully hiding himself in a dark corner where he could still see everyone around. He was exhausted after being so social, and he had been waiting for this glass of whiskey for the entire day. It was just him and the golden brown drink in front of him, with the party sounds still going strong in the background.

“I thought the birthday hero is supposed to be at the party instead of hiding from the guests,” a voice interrupted Rowan’s thoughts. Lifting his gaze up, he noticed the same leggy blonde who had pulled him along to the main part of a birthday celebration. Rowan quirked a brow before responding.

“I did not force you to leave your party, did I? I just wanted to enjoy a nice glass of whiskey.”

“Wait- what? My party? I thought-,” the woman in front of him scrunched up her face. “I thought we were celebrating your birthday.”

“No, I’m pretty sure my friend and I crashed your birthday celebration,” Rowan let out a small laugh. 

“Okay, so, wait- if it isn’t your birthday, and it definitely isn’t mine… then… did we just hijack someone’s birthday celebration? I totally thought it was your party and I tried to get you to blow out the candles. Oh my gods, this is hilarious and also now I understand why you stood there so awkwardly. I’m sorry,” the blonde burst out laughing. Rowan couldn’t help but join in - this was definitely an unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe we should get out before they realise what happened and who stole the thunder from someone else,” the woman suggested and for the first time in his life, Rowan didn’t feel awkward with a stranger, so he found himself nodding before throwing a few bills on the table. Getting up, they walked to the coat room and ever the gentleman, he helped the blonde put on her coat.

“Oh, by the way, my name is Aelin. Thought it would be nice to introduce myself to my partner-in-crime,” she said when they were outside.

“Rowan. Can’t say it was a pleasure to be involved in such a horrendous crime, but I did enjoy meeting you,” Rowan flirted, much to the amusement of Aelin, who let out a loud and melodious laugh at his comment.

“Well, Rowan, are you ready for an adventure? I’m assuming you’re available for some more criminal acts, we can’t just leave it on stealing some stranger’s birthday wish,” Aelin asked with a mischievous tone and a smile that told him she was up to no good.

“Under normal circumstances, I might be tempted to say no. However, this day has already been so weird, I don’t think there’s anything that could possibly make it any worse,” Rowan stated, not yet aware just how much his night was about to change. The smirk he had in response made him wonder if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, or perhaps the best decision by going along with whatever Aelin was planning. 

--

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[highqueenofelfhame]

rivers

rowaelin // 824 words // masterlist

The house was quiet when she woke. 

Aelin rolled over in her bed, rubbing her eyes as she reached for her phone. There were so many notifications it was both heartwarming and overwhelming. She swiped them away from her lockscreen, making a mental note to respond to all the texts and comment on all the instagram posts she’d been tagged in. It was her twenty-ninth birthday, but she felt infinitely older.

The sheets were soft against her skin, pillow fluffy beneath her head. A sigh drifted from her lips, heavy enough that it filled the silence of her home. Her lips twisted to the side as she locked her phone and laid it back on her nightstand beside her. There was no sound in her room save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and her skin rustling against cotton sheets.

It was late morning, the sun eagerly peering through the curtains, and she had nothing to do today except attend her birthday party later that evening. All of her friends had sworn to be there, and her attendance was mandatory. Aelin had already picked out her outfit, leaving it hanging on the back of her closet door. This year she was going for a simple look: ripped jeans and a band t-shirt beneath her favorite cardigan that he had bought her two Yulemases ago. 

Him. Rowan. His name echoed through her empty heart, threatening to shatter her ribcage to dust. She turned her head and looked at his side of the bed, the pillow untouched and smooth. Everything remained exactly the same as it had been the last several years. Even his watch was where he had last taken it off the night before being admitted to the hospital. 

The simple gold band she had once slid on his finger while making a lifetime of promises hung from a chain around her neck. The closet was still filled with a collection of his dress shirts, his shoes still lined the floor. In the shower his body wash and shampoo still sat on the little shelves that jutted out from the wall. Aelin hadn’t been able to touch any of it, despite his passing having been six months ago.

She still couldn’t get herself to take the emerald ring off her finger, either. Maybe one day it would join his on her necklace and she would find a way to move on, but this was a chapter that she just refused to close. She couldn’t close. If she did, it might break her beyond the point of no return.

While her mind threatened to spiral deep into the loss of her beloved, the doorbell chimed through her home. Gods, she didn’t want to see anyone right now when she was on the brink of caving to the grief. It was her first birthday without him and she wasn’t ready to face the day alone.

Still, she crawled out of bed, adjusting her pajamas and combing her fingers through her hair as she walked through the house. By the time she was at the door she decided she was decent enough. Nobody was on her porch when she peered through the window, though a floral delivery van was pulling off down the street. A large kingsflame bouquet sat on her doormat. 

A small smile tugged at her lips, knowing it was likely Aedion trying to start off her day positively. She pulled the door open and carried them inside, marveling at the vase and deeply inhaling the scent of her favorite flower. As soon as she slid the vase onto the counter, she plucked up the card in the center and carefully pulled it from the little envelope it was housed in. 

But when she saw the scrawling script on the inside, her heart stuttered to a complete stop in her chest, tears immediately pricking at the corners of her vision while she reminded herself to breathe.

To my Fireheart. Happy birthday. I love you to whatever end.

The message was short and sweet, but from Rowan all the same. Of all the schemes and secrets she had kept from him to pull off big surprises, this bouquet of flowers had far more of an impact than anything she had ever done. Seeing his handwriting, getting the same floral arrangement he had given her for years on her birthday six months, one week, and two days after his death had her heart in such a tight hold that she felt she couldn’t move. 

She brought that little piece of cardstock to her mouth, relishing the way it felt between her fingers as she mouthed the words ‘to whatever end’ against the paper. It shook against her lips, her hands trembling as she tried and failed not to break down.

Aelin gave into the grief, sinking to her knees as her entire body began to quake and hot tears fell in rivers down her cheeks.

#rivers #birthday flowers #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #tog #throne of glass #fanfiction #writing #my writing #drabbles #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #throne of glass fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #aelin ashryver galathynius #modern au #angst #sad #so sad i'm so sorry lmao

[huntressfeyre]

i love the throne of glass series and it won’t ever change and I’m going through my “I bought the new editions re-read” and with one thing I disagree completely is the timeline I’m sorry but by kingdom of ash there is no way only over a year has passed there’s no fucking way there’s so many references throughout the series that x took several weeks or x took several months SO NO I DON’T AGREE THE SERIES SPANS A BIT OVER A YEAR OKAY

#throne of glass to crown of midnight I could get behind them not having as much time between them #i don’t have the exact timeline but it’s referenced that only a bit over a year has passed and I could probably find the exact time #but no aelin had 2 birthdays I’m pretty sure and her next birthday is in the spring #her birthday was in crown of midnight I think then again in heir of fire #then it’s referenced she’ll be 20 some months after koa #no way only a year and a half has passed no fucking way #pls don’t fact check me it’s just an estimate because I don’t want or like to count #throne of glass #kingdom of ash #tog #koa

[shyvioletcat]

Welcome to my Throne of Glass Minifigures

Something you may not know about me is that besides writing, another passion I have in life is LEGO. I’ve joined two loves and I’ve been piecing together some Throne of Glass inspired minifigures. Here’s my WIP:

Some need paint jobs, some need parts swapped out, and yes my cat loves to photobomb my photoshoots. For my own enjoyment I’ll keep you updated on my progress.

#like Rowan needs a new shirt and his hair is wrong #Fen needs some legs #Aelin’s hair I need to order because I ordered hair for Lorcan but it suits her better #might also be an opportune moment to mention that it’s my birthday and there is a ko-fi link in my bio 😉

[rowaelinscourt]

Aelin Week Day 3 Masterlist

Prompt for Aelin Week day 3: Aelin's Birthday

Works:

mybloodrunsblue (fic)

writtenonreceipts (fic)

leiawritesstories (headcanons)

themoonthestarsthesuriel (edit)

morganofthewildfire (fic)

rowanaelinn (fic)

ladykreads (moodboard)

shyvioletcat (fic)

highqueenmorrigan (art compilation)

------

Note: if you don’t see your work on this masterlist, shoot us (@rowaelinscourt ) an ask, and we’ll make sure it’s get added properly! Thank you so much for participating!

#aelin week #aelinweek #day 3 #aelins birthday

[charityreadsabookanddrinkswine]

Could really go for some chocolate cake right about now

#happy birthday aelin #where’s some chocolate cake when you need it #dammit #sjm #sjm trash #tog #koa #com #hof #Qos #eos #tod #aelin fireheart #aelin ashryver galathynius

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Aelin: Can we get a birthday cake?

Rowan: It's not your birthday.

Aelin: The cake won't know!

#tog #throne of glass #incorrect tog quotes #tog incorrect quotes #rowan #aelin #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan

[leiawritesstories]

little princess

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA!!!!!! @rowanaelinn you are such an incredibly talented writer and wonderful friend and i'm so glad we share this crazy fandom space <3 here's some fluffs for you❤️❤️

word count: 827

warnings: none, i swear

Enjoy!

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

Eleven hours.

He’d been pacing outside that door for eleven godsdamned hours. A track showed in the carpet. The outrageously expensive rug Aelin had carefully selected and imported from Eyllwe.

“Aelin’s going to castrate you for that, you know.”

Rowan whirled at the voice, finding Lorcan casually standing at the end of the hall, observing his brother warrior with arched brow. 

“For the track?” He shrugged. “Either of us can fix it with a flick of a finger. What she doesn’t know won’t bother her.”

“You forget that she’s in no condition to forgi—”

“I know what godsdamned condition my mate is in, thank you, and if you came here to snark at me, you can shove it up your a—” His sentence cut off abruptly as Lorcan called up whatever godsdamned power he controlled and whisked the two of them out to the training yard. 

“You prick! I’m supposed to be there!”

“You’re supposed to NOT be adding worry to your mate’s labor, dammit! And pacing your big ugly boots into her expensive carpeting isn’t the way to do that. Besides, I’m willing to bet you were practically screaming your worry down the bond, which really does absolutely nothing good.”

“At least I have big boots,” smirked Rowan, glancing pointedly down at Lorcan’s everyday shoes.

Lorcan’s face split into a positively feral smirk. “Five hundred years and you still can’t accept that my sword has always been broader." 

Whatever few remaining threads Rowan had tying his self-control together snapped. And he launched himself at his brother with a growl of pure Doranellian rage. Lorcan smirked, dodged his barreling attack, and kicked the back of his knee. Rowan grunted, catching himself before he could fall, turned, and let his fists fly. Lorcan met him blow for blow, jab for jab, that infuriating smirk of his never fading. Through the mire of stress and worry clouding his mind, Rowan realized that Lorcan was giving him what he needed: an outlet for everything overloading his brain. 

Thank me later, brother, the dark-haired male's vicious grin said.

Rowan grunted. So damn full of yourself whenever you think you did something useful. He brought his flagging defenses back up and landed a punishing hit to Lorcan’s stomach. The older male grunted, backhanded him, and kicked his legs out from under him. Swearing viciously, Rowan hit the dirt of the training ring with a thud. Lorcan tackled him, promptly rolled him over, and put him in a headlock. Pinned, he slapped the ground three times, yielding, a significant chunk of his stress gone. 

“Who would have known that getting your ass kicked would help you not to worry about your lovely, strong mate?” Lorcan inquired.

“Says the one who knocked Elide up first.”

“Quite. And look how well that turned out.”

Rowan snorted a laugh. “Cal likes me best.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that because he hasn't shit his diaper all over you or spit up all over your clean fucking clothes."

"Ah, the perils of fatherhood."

Lorcan swatted him. "We'll see who's joking when--" Elide appeared from an upstairs window and motioned with her hand. Instantly, the two males were on their feet again, racing for the doors.  

“Whitethorn?” Concern creased Lorcan's normally scowling face.

“What.” Nerves and anxiety nearly overpowered Rowan's better judgment; he really hadn't meant to snap at Lorcan like that.

“Gods above, calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“In that case, it’s time to go home. Aelin and your baby are—” Rowan was gone before Lorcan finished his sentence. Lorcan rolled his eyes and followed him into the manor.

Back in the queen and king's hallway, Rowan paused before the door leading into Aelin’s room. The sharp medicinal smells from earlier were gone. His wife’s scent still hinted at pain, but also…joy. Such unending joy. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. Standing there, grinning, were Elide and Lysandra. 

“Ready to meet your little princess?”

Rowan gulped, fighting back unexpected tears. Princess.

Yes, you big oaf, a daughter. Aelin’s voice. Exhausted, but not lacking that wry humor of hers. 

Rowan crossed the room to his mate and the bundle of blankets in her arms. His daughter. Their daughter. Asleep, he couldn’t tell her eye color, but the little one's face—it was a tiny, perfect mirror of Aelin's own. He slumped onto the bed beside her, overcome with awe and fear and a hundred other emotions.

“May I...hold her?” His words were thick with unshed tears. Aelin smiled softly, tiredly, and placed their baby girl in his arms. Rowan looked down into the face of his daughter. And cried, overcome with the emotions of holding the baby he never dreamed of having. The first of many, he hoped. When his eyes cleared, he sniffled and looked to his mate. 

“What are we naming her?”

Aelin's exhausted face lifted with quiet joy. "Alanna Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius."

Utterly perfect.

~~~

tags:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #little canon fluffs #happy happy birthday ez!!! #love you ezra

[goddess-aelin]

Little Falcon

For day 22 of Rowaelin Month: Magic/Shifting lessons with the kids

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin was going to kill him, she truly was. She usually was a forgiving soul, one of the kindest people he knew despite her penchant for violence and general mischief. But for this, she would kill him.

Because he committed probably the worst act he could have ever committed. Worse than killing a man. Worse than forgetting Aelin’s birthday. Worse than eating his wife’s chocolate hazelnut cake. No, Rowan lost their daughter. Alma was almost four years old, her blonde, shining hair always a beacon and her quiet, yet temperamental disposition a mirror of her mother’s. It seemed that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to sneak around. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.

He’d been searching the castle for almost an hour, hoping to find the little trickster before Aelin was done with her meeting. He began in Alma’s room, hoping that her golden hair would be sticking out from her covers or her tiny toes from under her bed. No such luck was found. He made his way around the royal family’s wing of the castle with the same circumstances. He quietly asked the staff members if they had seen her, all to a resounding “no” and a look of disapproval that he lost Alma.

He was about to shift into hawk form to do a fly-by of the castle grounds but before he could, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their wing. Alma. Relieved, he rounded the corner, shouting her name and about to give the little girl a stern talking to when he stopped in his tracks. Aelin was standing in front of him, one brow raised and a knowing look on her face.

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

Rowan let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you see…” He knew Aelin could probably see the sweat beading on his forehead. “Alma and I, we were….we were playing hide and seek! Yeah. And she’s just so good at hiding that I can’t find her.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Buzzard. Just tell me you lost our daughter so we can go find her.”

He deflated at that. “Fine. I lost our daughter. Happy now?”

“Not particularly, no.” Aelin sighed. “I was gone for less than two hours, Rowan. How did this happen?”

“Errin needed to be changed so I stepped out of her room for a minute. A single minute, Aelin. And the next thing I knew, she was gone.” Panic laced his voice and he knew that he was about five seconds from completely losing his shit. It was a miracle he had kept it together this long, to be quite honest.

“I put Errin in his crib for a nap–don’t worry, one of the nursemaids is in there with him–and I came back and she was just gone. I didn’t even hear her little feet scamper by or anything. I don’t understand it.” Tears were finally forming in his eyes as the realization that he lost their daughter set in.

Slender arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him tightly. “It’s okay, Buzzard. We’ll find her, okay? We’ll look together and we’ll find her.” Even if Aelin was putting on a brave front, he knew she was probably panicking as much as he was. “Besides, she has the bravery of both of her parents so I’m sure she’s totally fine.” Aelin gave him a small smile and pulled him by the hand toward her room.

Gradually, they overturned every cushion, ripped every blanket from her bed, and opened everyy door and drawer but still no Alma. Rowan tugged on his hair, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach again. Aelin was slowly putting everything back to where it was so he figured he’d go and make another round of their bedroom.

Aelin’s voice halted him about halfway down the hall. “Uh, hey, Buzzard?”

He doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life. With panicked eyes, he burst into the room like a tornado. Aelin was standing calmly in the center of the room, looking up at the small curtain rod that hung over Alma’s bed.

“Look there,” she pointed toward the ceiling where a small bird was perched on the curtain rod. A suspiciously golden-looking falcon stared back at him and chirped. The tiny falcon flapped its wings, getting enough air to rise up from its perch and glide down to land on Rowan’s shoulder.

Aelin’s voice was breathless when she spoke, “Is that–”

Rowan nodded. “I think it is.” Rowan brought a single finger up to gently pet the bird’s head, it’s color too close to Alma’s blonde waves for it to be a coincidence.

As his finger stopped its motion, a bright light flashed and then there was a familiar weight in his arms. He was shocked into silence as he beheld Alma sitting in his arms, smiling.

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Rowan brought her into the tightest embrace he could manage without crushing her little bones. “I can see that,” he choked out. When he looked up at Aelin, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She gave him a look that seemed to say, Well, shit.

“Alma, how long have you been able to do that? Turn into a bird?”

“I not just any bird, Daddy! I’s a falcon! Uncle Fen said so!”

“Uncle Fen knew about this?” Alma nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! He said I should sup’rise you.”

Rowan smiled tightly at his daughter. “Consider me surprised, little falcon.”

His daughter put her tiny hands over her mouth and giggled. The sight made his cold heart melt. But quickly, the severity of the situation overtook him.

“You have to let me know when you’re going to shift, okay? I want to teach you how to fly safely so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Daddy, you’re bein’ a Buzzard. Jus’ like Mommy always says.”

Rowan’s mouth hung open. Aelin’s cackle could be heard throughout the castle as she doubled over in hysterics.

Eventually, Aelin’s laughter died down and she met his eyes through her tears. I’ll get you back for that, Fireheart.

Mmhm, sure. Not before you murder Fenrys though, right?

Rowan gave a curt nod and pulled his giggling little falcon back into his arms. She placed a tiny hand over the tattoo on his face.

“Daddy, I can’t wait to fly with you! It’s gonna be so much fun.” And with that, she snuggled into his arms once more.

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this one and I was squealing from cuteness while doing so 🥹

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

[mariaofdoranelle]

Catastrophic Blues

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)

I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol

Warnings: none?

Words: 2,2k

The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.

Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.

It was fine. She was fine.

It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.

But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.

How considerate of him.

But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.

Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?

The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.

A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.

“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.

Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”

He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”

Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”

He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”

Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.

Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.

It’s not like she cared, anyway.

Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone—including the lovebirds.

Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.

She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.

She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--

"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."

Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.

Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."

Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.

He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.

But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.

This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.

No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.

Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.

“…Right, Ace?”

Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”

“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”

Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.

And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.

The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.

Aelin wished she had stayed home.

But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.

Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.

Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.

Just like he used to do with her.

Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.

She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Breathe in.

She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.

Breathe out.

She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.

Breathe in.

She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.

Breathe out.

Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.

She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.

The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.

"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."

Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."

He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."

"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."

Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.

"Not a chance. Spill."

He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.

"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."

Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"

He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"

Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.

A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”

“You did not!”

“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”

“Is this a threat?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Obviously.”

“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”

“No drama, you said?”

“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”

“I sense drama.”

“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”

“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”

Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.

They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.

Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”

“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?

He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”

“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“

“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.

Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.

She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.

Aelin dug her own grave.

Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”

“He did not.”

“He did. And you know why.”

“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.

Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.

Her selfishness only went so far.

Read part 2 here

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#rowaelin #throne of glass #oneshot #sjmromanceweek2024 #sjmromanceweek #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

[throneofsapphics]

deadly instincts 

Fenrys x Reader

Summary: “That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court, a dear friend, and trust in another.” 

Warnings: angst, suicide (not reader) referenced, violence, implied past abuse, a bit of fluff 

A/N: this is based on a request, but I won’t put it here because of spoilers. for @moonlightttfae happy birthday!!

deadly instincts 

Fenrys x Reader

Summary: “That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court and a dear friend, and trust in another.” 

Warnings: angst, suicide (not reader) referenced, violence, implied past abuse, a bit of fluff 

A/N: happy birthday to -. this is based on a request, but I won’t put it here because of spoilers :) 

The two of you had a ‘working’ relationship first. Aelin had scouted you to be another emissary for Terrasen, and you gladly took on the position. In the beginning, you shadowed Fenrys for a while, and the two of you became fast friends - always sent on assignments together. 

You were drunk enough you struggled to remember the name of the gods-damned city you were in. It had to be the liquor, considering the foreign dignitaries were smirking at Fenrys, specifically. Even wasted off your ass, you wouldn’t cause an international incident or let your friend. Nope, you were too classy for that. 

At least you could hold your liquor, although that couldn’t be said for the male next to you. He let out a low hiss as your foot stomped on his. “Get it together,” you whispered under your breath, as the others looked away. 

“I’m not that -” 

Gods, even his words were slurring. 

“Stop talking.” 

Apparently your voice was firm enough, because the male’s mouth snapped closed. A few glasses of water later, you decided he was probably okay for you to walk back to your lodgings. 

“We have an early start tomorrow,” you told the others. One man, someone you’d grown to know rather well over the decades, eyes darted between you and Fenrys, before he gave you a knowing look. Your mouth indented at the corner, relaying the silent; not really, but I need to get his drunk ass home.

You slid from the booth, putting a gold mark down to cover your tab, ignoring their attempts to shove it back at you, and linked your arm with Fenrys, “Get it together, wolfie.” 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Good, he was more coherent now. 

“Oops, I forgot” your lips curled into a smile, voice honeyed with false innocence. 

Fenrys scoffed, and flicked your nose. The bit of alcohol you had delayed your reactions, and you failed to swat his hand away. 

Rowan would have both of your asses if he knew you were intoxicated in a foreign kingdom. There’s always a chance it could get back to them. You voiced your concerns. 

“What the bastard doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.” 

That … insubordination, you guess, isn’t something you could get away with, but Fenrys had known the ‘bastard’ a lot longer than you. 

“I love you,” Fenrys sighed, you tilted as he leaned some of his weight on you, leg extending to try and keep your balance. 

“Love you too, friend.” 

There was an extra emphasis on that last word. Several people, including their majesty and highness, had commented on the ‘romantic’ tension between the two of you. But, you weren’t quite ready for that. A shiver ran down your spine, thinking of your past failed encounters. Disastrous, more like. 

Fenrys, as always, noticed, “everything alright?” 

A forced smile and nod didn’t seem to satisfy him, but he kept from questioning you further. With great timing, you crossed the threshold of the inn you were staying at, and thanked the gods your rooms were on the first floor. 

“Lock your door,” he instructed over his shoulder. 

“Yes, yes,” you waved him off, but did, going the extra mile to secure a chair under the handle. Peace had flourished in the continents throughout recent years, but you could never be too careful. 

-

Three weeks later, you were back in Terrasen. Fenrys was … shifty. Not avoiding you, but he’d been looking at you strangely. At first, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you, but after a few days of it you’d had enough. 

“What is it?” You asked. The two of you were alone in his sitting room, a fire raging in the corner. Your legs were stretched out on the couch, Fenrys’s thumb running circles into your couch.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” each word was careful as his body tensed, hand settling down on your leg.  

“I’d hope so,” you tried to reply casually - but your heart was racing. The way he looked at you … it was not like a friend. 

Every fear from the past surged, bubbling over into a state of near panic, but you forced yourself to focus on him. This was Fenrys, Fenrys was safe. A friend, confidant, and steady presence in your life over the last few years. But, things had slowly been changing for the two of you. More casual touches and affection, craving each other's presence more and more. It felt natural, everything with him was easy, natural even. Maybe your friendship was strong enough to survive if this went … wrong. He reached for your hand, and you let him pull you up to sit. 

“Gods you’re beautiful,” he murmured. Carefully, watching each reaction, each tensing of his muscles, you reached for him, letting your hand rest against his cheek. He didn’t flinch, he leaned into your touch. 

“I doubt there’s much that could ruin our friendship,” you breathed. 

He took his time closing the gap between you, resting his forehead on yours. “So do I.” 

-

“Could we chat, outside perhaps?” A female said with a saccharine smile. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, but Aelin had said specifically to try and grow closer ties with her territory, so you relented. This entire ball had been ‘fun’ in a way, but you were looking forward to getting back to the suites you and Fenrys now shared. Three blissful and beautiful decades, and you fell in love with him more and more each day. 

She led you into a familiar courtyard, and your eyes scanned the area, barely spotting the glint of moonlight on steel. 

You managed to duck the deadly swipe to your neck, redirecting it to your arm instead, screaming as flesh tore and blood bubbled out from it. Survival mode kicked in, and you fought back, ducking each of her blows. Where was your magic? At least she doesn’t have any. Throwing her arm to the side, squeezing her wrist to dislodge the knife, before twisting it at the right angle - a small crack and scream coming from her. You kicked her knees out from under her, a sharp blade pressing against her throat. You wouldn’t kill her, now, you needed answers. And help. 

From the corner of your eye, blonde hair flashed and a smidge of relief went through you. Fenrys was here, you weren’t alone anymore. 

A large weight slammed against you, the back of your head hitting the wall with enough force that stars shone in your eyes, your vision blacking out as a hand squeezed your throat, legs leaving the ground. 

Fenrys. Eyes dark and murderous, you tried to whisper his name; but his entire being was filled with rage. What the hell was happening? Your lips opened and closed, not enough air or words to come out. Gods, he was going to kill you. 

Air flushed back into your lungs as a strong wind threw him to the side, sending him skidding back against the courtyard, your back brushed against the stone, ass hitting the ground as you struggled to get air back into your lungs. 

“W-what?” Aelin was in front of you, her back to you as she seemed to stand guard. Thrumming with murderous energy, thankfully not directed at you. Vaguely, you registered guards tugging the other female away. Good. But … Rowan was speaking to Fenrys in low tones, arms wrapped around his chest to keep him from flying towards the other female. 

“Mate,” you read the words on his lips. Something in your chest splintered. Your lover’s mate tried to kill you. And so did he. Instincts, you could understand, but there was no coming back from this. It felt like your future fell apart in front of you. 

Aelin’s hand wrapped around your forearm, tugging you to your feet and holding you to her side, carefully skirting out of Fenrys’s vision. “We’ll get you to a healer.” 

Every step was a struggle to stay conscious, and you made it all the way to the door of the healers rooms before collapsing. 

-

That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court, a dear friend, and trust in another. It would take decades to build that up again, even though his reaction could be explained as instinct. They’d all been furious beyond belief, but no more than Fenrys was at himself. Rowan somehow kept him locked away for a week, until his fervor towards the bond had more than settled, and he was begging to try and see you. He made multiple requests - to explain and ask for forgiveness, each one more desperate than the last, but she’d denied each one.

As soon as you healed, you’d left Orynth. 

“Do you … want to see him? He asked,” Aelin hesitated on her words, hesitated to dig up the fresh wound. You only looked at her, eyes haunted, and shook your head. 

Now, she watched as slung your pack over your shoulders. 

“Come back one day?” She nearly pleaded. “Please.” 

Recognizing the rarity of the word coming from the Queen’s lips, your face softened. “One day,” the assurance was weak. One day could mean decades or centuries in the lives of immortals, but Aelin would take what she could for now, and hold on to it.  Despite needing the space, walking away hurt. 

-

It was three years before you returned. Terrasen was your home, and nowhere else felt right. Facing him would be the biggest struggle, but you couldn’t avoid him forever. You’re immortal, and spending the rest of your life hiding away from your home would be miserable. Disappearing in the early hours of the morning, only the moonlight overhead, and Aelin and Rowan to wave you off.

As soon as you spotted Terrasen, as soon as you breathed in the fresh air - you knew you made the right choice. 

Each letter he sent was opened, but never returned. You hated yourself for it, but some part of you still craved him - craved what you had. Something that won’t return. It disappeared that day, within the space of minutes.

One of the conditions of your return was to not work with Fenrys. Aelin hadn’t questioned it. 

Each time he spoke to you, public or private, you brushed it off. 

Had you ever seen the male cry before? Maybe not. But three years ago took away your ability to. Took away any chance of feeling real human emotions again. Sure, you could fake it - and had done so to great success, but the actual sensations never settled in you anymore. 

“I understand … you were protecting your mate,” you forced a small curve to your lips. “I’m past it.” 

No, you weren’t. Aelin told you in hushed words what happened to the female - how they’d found her dead by her own hand, and you hated that your former friend went through it - you were still glad the bitch was dead.  

-

Fenrys spent the next century winning you back, and maybe the trust would never fully be there again - but damn you it worked. The same person who took it away, breathed life back into you once you let him in. 

Sun warming the sheets, soft snores came from behind you. Soft, but loud enough they’d woken you. Doing the mature thing, you kicked his leg. 

“What the fuck?” his eyes opened, still half lidded. 

“You’re snoring.” 

“Returning the favor, love,” his voice was rough with sleep, and you loved it. 

“I do not snore,” you hissed anyway. 

“Mhm,” his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. You sighed, but melted into his embrace. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered.

#fenrys x reader #fenrys x y/n #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam x y/n #throne of glass fic

[likecanyoujustnot]

Feyre Week Day 4: found family

A/n: I just used this as an excuse to write a fluffy feysand ft. Nyx and the ic fic. :)

I haven’t finished hofas but this takes place ages after (no mentions of Bryce + co). The others don’t say much (or anything). Lots of montaging.

In case you can’t tell, I speed wrote this. Definitely not my best work, but I’m working on like 4 other things atm. Shhhhh. Might rewrite it (probably won’t). But acosf feysand pov is still there. Aelin x Dorian AU to come (hopefully) soon.

@feyreweekofficial

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Nyx, do not put that in your mouth. Nyx!”

I hung my head forward so my hair covered the smirk I was hiding from my mate.

“Say hello to mummy.” Rhys held Nyx in his arms as he brought him level with my face, setting the salt shaker down, far out of Nyx’s reach.

I set down the knife and brought my face close to my son’s. “Hello honey.”

Nyx cooed and made a grab for my hair. “Ow.”

Rhys smirked as he disentangled the now one year old’s hand from my hair. He brushed my hair over my shoulder as he kissed my cheek. “Go get ready, the others will be here soon.”

I gestured to the uncut vegetables. “What about them?”

“I’ll do that, get dressed, you’ve been working too hard.”

The past few weeks had been hectic, the court of nightmares were acting up, as were the Illyrians, and I’d refused Rhys’s persistence that I take a break, saying that if I did, he had to too, which shut him up. Add planing a first birthday party to the mix, and I’d barely had any time to think.

I gave Rhys a peck on the lips and pressed my forehead to Nyx’s. “I’ll see you soon baby.”

Rhys picked up Nyx’s hand and waved it at me. “Bye mummy.”

I waved back as I left the kitchen.

“Now this is a special surprise for your mum, okay? So you better behave.” I hear whispering coming from the kitchen as I walked down the steps.

“Rhys?” I called.

“Yes?” He called back, faux innocence in his voice.

I took the last few steps, suspicion growing.

I opened the door into the living room and Rhys shot up.

His eyes widened as he took me in. The dress is somewhat similar to the one I wore for my first starfall. A sliver blue, hugging my curves, loosening at my thighs, falling to the ground and dropping to show a tad of cleavage.

He strode over to me, looking devastating in a black jacket and pants.

He swept me into his arms and spun me around the room. “You look stunning, Feyre Darling.”

I giggled as he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

A soft cooing reminded us we were not alone. I crept around the back of the couch, grabbing Nyx and lifting him into my arms. “Hello, little one-” I stopped when I saw what he is wearing. I slowly turned to Rhys.

My mate wore a sheepish look as he ran his hand through his hair. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

I laughed, looking back to the little suit Rhys managed to wrestle Nyx into, it matched his own perfectly, with small slits at the back for his wings.

Warm arms enveloped me. “Was it a nice surprise?”

I grinned. “It was.”

A loud knock from outside snapped us both back to attention.

Rhys took Nyx from my arms. “You might want to see who that is.”

I lifted a brow as I went to open the door.

“Feyre!”

I barely had a chance to open the door before I was barrelled into by a blonde and red tornado.

Mor wrapped her arms around my neck. “So good to see you.”

I laughed and gave her a squeeze. “You too.”

Cassian and Nesta followed through after her. I gave them both a quick hug and closed the door from the cold.

“How’s my favourite Illyrian?” I turned to find Rhys passing Nyx into Mor’s arms.

Cassian scoffed. “I thought I was your favourite?”

Mor didn’t even look up from Nyx. “Never were.”

Cassian made more outraged noises, to which Nesta patted him on the forearm. “Am I your favourite, Nes?”

Nesta pretended to think. “No, I think mine’s Nyx too, but Az is a close second.”

“Betrayed, by my own mate.”

Nesta ignored him, and we all headed to the dining room.

Mor caught me up on her work in Vallahan, Nyx occasionally pulling at her golden hair.

“We should go shopping tomorrow.” Mor announced. “Leave Nyx with the guys and just relax.”

“We really should, I saw this new-”

I was cut off by the knocking on the front door.

I begun to stand. “I’ll go get it.” Rhys got up, touching me lightly on the shoulder as he moved past.

Nyx made a lunge out of Mor’s arms for me, little wings flapping, but she had too firm a grip and he didn’t get far.

“Want your mummy do you?” The moment Nyx was in my arms he rested his head on my chest.

“Rhys says that the desire to jump is part of the Illyrian instinct to fly.” I said to the table.

Cassian smirked. “Yeah, Rhys’s Mum told me he once jumped from a bench and nearly broke his arm.”

“I’m sure you did much similar things at the same age, brother.” Rhys slid back into his seat next to me, Amren, Varian and Azriel in tow.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around Nyx as he ruffles his hair. My son gives a shout of joy, making Azriel smile. “Happy birthday, Nyx.”

Varian gave me a kiss on the cheek and went to sit next to Cassian.

“Well done you two, you managed not to burn the house down.” Amren said, sitting next to the Summer Court prince.

“As if we would have.” Rhys smirked.

“At least we’re not making the cake.” I said. Rhys could cook, much better than me, but when it came to baking, you’d think he was purposely trying to give us food poisoning.

Rhys laughed, the sound drawing Nyx’s attention as he tried to clamber out of my arms for his father.

Another knock sounded and I got up for it this time, Nyx now safely in Rhys’s arms.

Elain stood at the door, Lucien a respectful distance behind her, my sister with the large cake in her hands. “I honestly think it’s frozen from the walk here.”

I smiled, and lead her into the kitchen, where she put the cake down on the bench, Lucien going to the dining room.

We walked back to join the others.

After half an hour of talking, Rhys magicked in the food, including the vegetables I had him cut.

We took turns feeding Nyx little pieces of meat and vegetables, while trying to shove down our own food before it got cold.

Once everyone was full, we moved to the living room again, a small pile of gifts set on the coffee table.

I sat down on the armchair, son in my lap, as Rhys brought the presents to us, announcing who it was from, before I helped Nyx tear at the paper.

Of course out of all the toys and things he got from our friends, both present and not, he chose to focus on the wrapping paper.

Nyx yawned.

“Cake time?” I asked, and was met with a resounding yes.

Elain hurried out of the room, and came back with the giant blue cake in hand.

She set it on the table and I used my powers to set the candles alight.

As we started singing happy birthday, I looked around at all my friends. My mate and sisters and every person who helped me get where I was today.

I held Nyx close to try and get him to blow out the candles, quickly pulling him back before he could burn himself.

Rhys lent forward and finished it, earning a laugh from everyone.

We cut up the cake, everyone complimenting the baking of my sister.

I talked with Nesta, who invited me to train with her and the Valkyries if I ever wanted to.

Rhys and Varian discussed having a visit to the Summer Court soon. Tarquin’s gift of a stuffed dolphin sat on the floor after Nyx tossed it in favour of Nesta and Cassian’s gift.

“Did you enjoy your night Nyx?” I closed the door after wishing goodbye to Mor. Rhys holding Nyx above his head.

Nyx made a cry of joy, to which Rhys replied. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He walked over to me. “What about you, Feyre darling?”

I smiled at him. “It was a nice night, you didn’t fight with Nesta, Amren and Varian didn’t traumatise everyone, the cake was delicious.”

“And the vegetables I cut?”

I kissed his cheek. “The best part.”

He grinned.

We walked Nyx up to the nursery, where we changed him into his onesie, and put him in the cot.

“Good night, little one.” I whispered, brushing his dark hair out of his face.

Rhys wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked out.

- I didn’t know how to finish this. And it probably sucks. Sorry.

#feyreweek2024 #acotar #sarah j maas #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #the inner circle #feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #rhysand fanfic #feyre fic #morrigan #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #amren #found family

[spaceshipkat]

Regarding the SJM trademarking situation, if you look at where it says "goods and services" you'll see where it says things like hair products make up, soap etc... So she's most likely gonna do a Colleen Hoover and come out with like ACOTAR and TOG beauty products or something. So basically she's not trademarking the words for all time and no one can write a book with them. No one can simply come out and make a makeup shade called "Feyre" or something. This is very common to happen in the beauty industry. (Although I will admit there are certain words up for trademark that still have me ????)

yes i’m aware of the goods and services part! my post simply listed the words she’s trademarking and stated it’s bizarre she has chosen the words she did (bc it is). i simply find it wholly hilarious she’s going down this road. (it’s also hilarious considering the soap dick thing was years ago. were they sitting on this idea for that long, waiting until the tiktok girlies were properly obsessed?)

tbh i find it especially hilarious she wants to make, let’s say, soap labeled Suriel. as in the creature described as having “a face that looked like it had been crafted from dried, weatherworn bone, its skin either forgotten or discarded, a lipless mouth and too-long teeth held by blackened gums”. dreamy, that.

also i really wanna see how the tolkien estate handles her use of aelin. they go after photos of tolkien people use on twitter on his birthday. are they gonna be chill with sjm making money off a sindarin word she’s trademarked?

#ask #anonymous #anti sjm