#rowaelin edits

[shadowhandss60]

Aelin: Are you so eager to die?

Dorian: Are you?

Aelin:

Dorian:

Aelin: I mean, kinda.

Dorian: Same dude, same. Glad we’re on the same page.

#they’re tired #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #manon blackbeak #manorian #Rowaelin #throne of glass memes #throne of Glass edit

[shyvioletcat]

A/N: So my dear friend @mariamuses​ came up with a wonderful prompt (this one right here) that really took hold of my imagination and wouldn’t let go. I’ve been working on it for a while but finally got around to getting it done. @rowaelinprompts​ another one for the list. 

CW: A whole lot of banter, swearing and smut.

~~~~~

If Rowan Whitethorn was the main character in a novel, Aelin would most definitely be the antagonist in his tragic story. 

Their relationship hadn’t started smoothly, they had metaphorically been at each other’s throat from the moment they met. They were authors, both of them employed but the same publisher, and essentially rivals in every way. Rowan was an author of epic fantasy, the gritty you have to be fully awake to keep track of kind. Aelin wrote for the fantasy genre as well but her books were more of the romantic kind. There was a stigma attached to that and people like Rowan-holier-than-thou Whitethorn tended to look down their noses at such things. She wrote romantic fantasy, he wrote science fiction. They were at polar opposites on the literary scale.

The introduction had occurred in their publisher’s office. Aelin had gone in to renew her contract and Rowan had been in the office signing his first. They shared a manager and Fenrys had been very excited to introduce them. She had offered a charming smile and her hand, which to his credit Rowan had taken in a brief handshake. After that Rowan had barely given her a second glance. 

Aelin supposed that Rowan was just shy, and she tried over and over again to be friendly and get his attention. There were more than enough opportunities for it—the two of them were the shining stars of the fantasy world. They were always in on the big meetings together to organise release dates and press circuits. To keep the money flowing in smoothly the company usually alternated half yearly.

And it was unfortunate for him that there was very little in life that gave her as much joy as pissing him off did. He wasn’t all bad, their wits matched when they engaged in their battles of wills and he was devastatingly handsome. Maybe she was no better than the kid on the school yard picking on the person they liked because they didn’t know how to deal with their own feelings. Somewhere along the line, between the insane amount of grumpiness and quiet composure, Aelin had decided that she liked him. Like liked him. But that didn’t matter. Aelin could ignore all that for pure fun riling up Rowan Whitethorn gave her. It wasn’t entirely satisfying, but it was enough to keep her going. 

Today Rowan had to suffer through hours of it. The two of them were at a comic and pop culture convention; meeting, greeting and signing things for fans and for monetary gain. Seated next to each other it was all too easy to slip a comment over the few feet of desk between them. Or flick little bits of paper over that she took the time to roll into teeny tiny balls for a singular purpose amid the stream of fans. In fact one such fan had just left the signing table when a piece of Aelin’s ammunition hit Rowan’s cheek. That quietly enthusiastic book buyer was the last for that round and they would have about fifteen minutes until the next lot came through. 

He didn’t even flinch, he just sighed and clicked his pen, brushing the paper away with a casual hand. 

“Your fans are so much more boring than mine,” Aelin said, chin resting in her palm. 

“What?” Rowan asked flatly.

“Well, mine tend to go all out in their costuming,” Aelin replied. “Your’s

just put on a themed t-shirt and call it a day.” 

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s far more practical,” Rowan countered as he leant back in his chair. “They don’t have to worry about being the weird ones on public transport or having their boobs fall out of their tops.”

Aelin grinned. “Have you been paying special attention to the boobs on display?” 

Rowan didn’t answer but the blush on his was answer enough. 

“Well, well, well. It seems that my books have given you something to care about,” Aelin added.

“Stop it, I have not been looking… it's just a general observation,” Rowan insisted. 

“You’re welcome by the way.” Another ball of paper hit his face. 

This time Rowan sighed. “Aelin.” 

“Rowan.” Her voice was sickly sweet. 

He looked over at her and Aelin’s stomach flipped. He was too handsome today, all made up for the public. He’d shaved, and his hair was kept from falling into his eyes with just the right amount of product. It was such an unusual colour and not for the first time Aelin wished she could touch it. 

So caught up in her thoughts Aelin totally missed that Rowan had actually said something to her. 

“Hmm? Sorry I am just thinking about the poor unfortunate souls that have been ensnared by your sub par writing.” 

A familiar challenge flashed in his eyes and Aelin knew her little game was succeeding. 

“I was just saying it’s nice that your fans have so much fun with your work,” Rowan said.

“Wait, Mr Whitethorn, was that a compliment?” Aelin’s hand was on her chest like she might be about to swoon. 

He shook his head. “That was a compliment for your fans, not you. I’ll refrain from making a comment about their tastes in literature.”

Oh, he was ready to play now, Aelin thought to herself. 

“Insulting the fans is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” Aelin said, twirling her gold ink pen between her fingers. “They are our livelihood after all. I’m sure, despite how you feel about me, you wouldn’t wish for me to be destitute. You’re not that cruel.”

Rowan glanced down at his watch, probably checking for when the next lot of fans would start flooding through. “Of course not, a little humility wouldn’t go astray though.”

Aelin tipped back her head and laughed, when she was done she found Rowan looking at her, an odd look on his face. Not odd enough to dissuade her from her next comment. “You won’t have luck there.”

She could have sworn the corner of his mouth quirked up the smallest amount for the tiniest fraction of a second. “Why am I not surprised?”

Any further response was interrupted by an attendant letting them know it would only be a few minutes before the next round of signings would begin. Aelin smiled and nodded and waited for the blushing young person to turn around before she went through her pre-fan-meeting brush up. She fluffed out her loose hair, readjusted the straps of her dress. One of the knots at her shoulder was coming undone so she gave that a quick pull to tighten it. After that she took out the small mirror from her pocket to check her face. Everything seemed fine except for a loose eyelash. There were signs of commotion starting as the fans from the start of the line so Aelin snapped her mirror shut. Blatant vanity wasn’t good for her image, or something like that, according to her publicist. She’d have to get rid of the eyelash blindly. 

Aelin swept at her cheek, assuming it was gone, and put on her most charming of smiles giving those at the front of the line a quick wave. They tittered with excitement, copies of her books in their hands. Rowan’s fans, on the other hand, were far more subdued, but a few of them up the front were vibrating with nervousness. When they did sneak a glance in Rowan’s general direction Aelin gave them a smile and even a sly wink. Three of them blushed. 

“You missed it.” Rowan’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Hmm?” Aelin angled her chair so she faced him better. 

“Your eyelash, it’s still there.” 

She was surprised he’d been paying enough attention to her to notice the whole lash situation. Aelin swiped at her face again, fingertips dabbing along her cheek bone. 

“You’re completely missing it,” Rowan said. He scooted his chair over, nearly close enough that their knees touched, then he beckoned her with a hand. Aelin lent it, her breath catching as Rowan’s fingers touched her cheek. It was over in less than three seconds, and yet those few seconds without air were enough to make her completely breathless. He left his finger raised in front of her face and she spotted the offending eyelash on the tip of his finger. “Make a wish.” 

Aelin cocked her head, fighting a smile. This was straight out of one of her books, her debut novel in fact. The heroine and the soon to be love interest share a quiet moment amongst all the trials and danger that would eventually bring them together. It was sweet, and a turning point for those characters. There was no way Rowan would understand the significance of what he was doing. And that same peaceful outcome was highly unlikely in this situation. 

Playing along anyway, Aelin sucked in a breath to blow away the eyelash. Her wish wouldn’t be polite to voice in public, or to the man that it included. But when Aelin’s breath passed her lips she kept the vision of her and him very clear in her mind. Of her body pressed against the wall, Rowan’s hands holding her up by her thighs as her hands tugged at his hair, mussing it out of one perfection into another, and the heated kisses being pressed over every inch of uncovered skin. That scene right there—one she had thought of countless times, that was her wish. 

“What did you wish for?” Rowan asked, none the wiser over her depraved thoughts. 

Aelin tsked at him, shaking her head like she was annoyed at such a foolish question. “Rule one, you never say what you wish for out loud. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

He didn’t push it, instead he fiddled with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. That left Rowan’s tattoos on display—a design Aelin had traced over with her eyes numerous times. Something in the Old Language and she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about learning just so she could understand what is said. 

Footsteps and voices drew away Aelin’s attention and she turned to face the oncoming influx of fans. It was time to smile and put on a show. These were people who made her so successful, she owed them something. 

“Hi, how are you today?” Aelin said to the fan who rushed up, a shiny new book in their hand. “Shall I sign that for you?” 

That was essentially the same script Aelin used fan after fan. There were some variations when questions were exchanged. The fan in front of her at the moment had broken down in tears and Aelin had reached out to touch her hand, it only made her cry harder. Eventually the fan gathered herself enough to give a teary but very sincere thank you. Aelin grinned, giving a small wave, before movement in the corner of her eye redirected her attention. She peered over to Rowan’s desk, seeing that he was making a tally. 

“What are you doing?” She asked before she could stop herself. 

Rowan didn’t look at her, just clicked away the nib of his pen. “That’s going to tell me how many of your fans cried.” 

Aelin left out a short laugh. “You’ve been counting?”

“Had to find something to entertain myself,” Rowan replied. “She’s number eight, just for your information.”

“Maybe I should keep track of all your fans who flirt with you, I might need an entire notebook. Makes me think it’s not actually your writing that’s intrigued them. Whoever decided to put your photo on the back cover should get a cut of the money.” 

Rowan didn’t get a chance to reply because a pretty young woman wearing a t-shirt dedicated to one of his prominent characters approached his table. She gave him big starry eyes, her voice probably an octave higher than it needed it to be. To say Rowan was smiling might have been an exaggeration, but his face was pleasant. Aelin had her own fan to deal with so she missed whatever happened next in the interaction. When she glanced back at Rowan after sending that one away, he was still talking to the same woman. His elbows rested on the table as he looked up at her, smiling now. A real ‘you could see his teeth’ smile. 

Aelin’s gut twisted with jealousy. Not only was this woman flirting with him, but Rowan was flirting back. It would never be that way with her, he loathed her, hated her, the villain in his story. Any amiability they had at these things were short lived. By tomorrow the ice would reform under the cover of night and they would go back to the way they were.

Finally the fangirl left, throwing one last dazzling smile over her shoulder. Thankfully for Aelin’s own sanity, Rowan didn’t notice, he was too busy getting his desk back in order. 

“You know we don’t get paid to flirt with the fans, right? There’s no extra bonus for that,” Aelin threw at him, her voice sharper than it should have been. 

“She was flirting with me, I wasn’t flirting with her,” Rowan defended. 

“Yeah sure,” Aelin said, breaking up the conversation with another signing. “From where I sat, that looked a lot like flirting, so much so I ..would call it such.” 

Rowan sent off another of his fans with a signature before he turned to her. His green eyes pinned her in place, the unexpected intensity stunning her to utter stillness.

“Trust me, Aelin,” He gave a quick glance as he nodded for the next fan to come forward. “If I was flirting, you would know.”

Clearing her throat, Aelin took the book form yet another fan and signed her name. And she did, again and again. She hated that Rowan had got the upper hand on her, that he had been the one to ruffle her feathers. That was her job. She could feel the smugness radiating off him and in between smiles and fleeting hellos, Aelin was scrambling for a come back. 

When Aelin saw a small group of Rowan’s manly fans snigger at her fans and the adorable commitment they had taken to their love of her books, it came to her. 

“If you flirt as bad as you write…” Aelin muttered during a slight lull in signing, letting the comment fade out into the realm of interpretation. “You’re probably one of those male writers who creates one dimensional women whose ovaries tingle at the sight of a handsome man or boobs that move counter clockwise when they walk.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Rowan asked, conscious of his language as a particularly young fan walked up with his parent. 

“Female characters, Rowan. In particular, yours,” Aelin offered. 

Rowan’s laugh was humourless. “There’s only one way to find out for sure, Aelin.”

She ignored the way her name sounded coming from those full lips. “Never.” 

Aelin had declared numerous times that she had not read his books, she had sworn she never would. So she didn’t know for sure how Rowan wrote his female characters, regardless she wasn’t going to abandon her new line of attack. 

“I’ll start passing judgement on your faerie porn,” Rowan said to her, making the person who had just handed over a book snort.

Aelin signed her page viciously. Yes, her books were full of faeries, yes they had a lot of sex. There was nothing to be ashamed of about writing, reading and enjoying such things. The condescension and superiority that people held around romantic fantasy screamed of misogyny. As a predominantly female author community it wasn't at all surprising that the genre was looked down on. And faerie porn wasn’t necessarily a bad term, not when it was used lightly and lovingly, and by the right people. Rowan Whitethorn, with his know it all scientist and boring spaceships, was not one of those people. 

“A length as long as a forearm,” Rowan added. “Have you actually measured your forearm?”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she did look at her forearm, even subtly shifting it over so she could compare it to her body. She had never specifically compared a dick to a forearm but maybe she was prone to a little exaggeration. It was romance, it was fantasy, an extra few inches was a given. 

“Oh, please,” Aelin was glad that the end of the line was sight. “A huge penis is far more believable than a poorly contrived experiment gone wrong.”

“It’s science fiction,” Rowan said. 

“It’s fantasy,” Aelin shot right back. 

For a moment they just looked at each other, the challenge rising. If he wanted to play the euphemism game she would play. She was an expert. She had at least five alternatives for clit in her back pocket. 

“Feeling a little inadequate?” Aelin all but mocked in a sympathising and sweet voice. “I hear it's not size that matters.” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not talking about this.” 

If that wasn’t just an invitation. 

Work prevented her from answering right away, interrupted by what she was here to do. This was going to pay for another fancy bookcase in her home office and maybe some books to fill it. 

“I would bet you wouldn’t even know where to find that bundle of nerves,” she taunted. “And if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do.”

In turn, Rowan was delayed by his own work, but she could see the tightness working in his jaw as he withheld his answer. She wondered what he was spending his money on. 

When he was done he lent an elbow on his table and once again Aelin found herself rooted in place by his stare. Not to use a cliche but it was the very definition of a heated stare. She was starting to contemplate whether or not Rowan really hated her, because when his eyes took a casual perusal over her she was most definitely having second thoughts. 

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was low and rough. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was unfair that he could so easily start unravelling her with just a few words.

A very bright Hi snapped Aelin out of her trance and she went back to her job. She was distracted through that signing, barely remembering who had offered up the book or what they looked like, because she couldn't shake the distinct feeling that Rowan had just been flirting with her.

Maybe she could get him to do it again. 

“That one spot is a thing of complicated wonder, not everyone has the skills,” Aelin said, she was a free woman now with her line ending. Rowan had a few more to go. “I would begin to wonder if the women in your books even have one.”

Rowan actually muttered a curse under his breath and gallantly recovered by the time one of his few remaining fans came up to the table. 

When he had a moment he replied. “At least I keep the growling to a minimum.”

“Don’t mock the growling, my readers love the growling,” Aelin defended. “It’s a crowd pleaser.”

The last few of Rowan’s fans handed their books over and he gave them his full attention. It wasn’t until they were gone that he faced her. “Is that how you write, Aelin? Cheap cliches and tropes please the populace?”

“Excuse me?” Aelin said, playfulness morphing into anger. How dare he insult her or her writing like that.

“Can’t handle when the tables are turned, Galathynius?” Rowan was entirely too smug for her to handle. 

Aelin wanted to storm off, but she still had a few more minutes to wait here in case there were any late comers. All she could do is glare, eyes narrowing at Rowan who was busy looking at something on his phone and dream of all the painful ways she could use that pen on him. Maybe she’d start with stabbing him in the hand, slow down his writing a bit. Noise drew her attention away and she saw a few more people walking over. Regardless, she took the opportunity to fire another non violent shot. 

“I don’t know why I expected anything else, Sci-fi is such a boys club. I wouldn't expect you to think for yourself and think outside the preconceived sexist ideas against female authors. Romance, no matter the sub genre, is valid and worthy just as much as any other form of writing.”

Rowan looked mildly shocked, then affronted. “I never—“

A throat clearing had Rowan stopping, he looked down awkwardly and then to the fan who handed him a book. He stumbled over his introduction but recovered quickly and slipped on that charming mask. That’s all it was, a mask. He was a bastard, a pious, narrow minded bastard. It was very unfortunate Aelin was obsessed with him.

Rowan had a pair of women fawning over him and suddenly Aelin was filled with longing for that to be her. Not gushing over his work, because she hadn’t read it wouldn’t know where to start. But to be able to appreciate him in public. Not bottling it all up to the point that she felt like she was going to explode. 

Despite the fan in front of him, Rowan said, “You really think I’m one of those assholes that degrades their female characters to pandering damsels with no depth or purpose other than wives or the murdered?”

With no real evidence, Aelin just shrugged but a fan came to his defence. “He actually gave a really great interview talking about the depiction of women in media.”

“On how to do it wrong,” Aelin muttered, but each word was clear.

Rowan’s pen snapped down on the table but that was the only sign of his irritation as he thanked and said goodbye to the fan that had gallantly come to his defence. What Aelin had done was highly unprofessional and she just hoped the fan wouldn’t take to social media about it. She didn’t like her chances. 

The last of the stragglers came through and Aelin signed her last book, sending the fan off with a genuine smile and an enthusiastic wave, just waiting for the official declaration for this to be over. 

“Okay, you guys are done,” the attendant that was directing them around said, giving Aelin’s table a definitive ending of signing knock. 

“Thanks for that,” Aelin said brightly, thanking the gods this was over and she’d have some space to breathe. She went to offer some lighthearted celebratory banter but Rowan was already gone. He must have dashed out as soon as the attendant came over, his chair was still spinning. 

Aelin followed, eager to be out of the public eye. She’d messed up, and she should apologise, even if it meant swallowing her pride and admitting she was wrong. That left a very sour taste in her mouth and she sighed. She could do this, sorry wasn’t a hard word to say. 

Walking down the deserted hallway towards the VIP rooms, Rowan was easy to spot. This part of the convention centre was closed off from the public, only guests and workers were allowed back here. He turned a corner, right to where their dressing rooms were. With the need for solitude Aelin almost passed Rowan’s door to her own but she needed to do the right thing.

She hesitated at his door. Maybe. Aelin stepped back and raised her fist. Yes. 

Her knuckles were about to hit the cheap laminate when the door opened. Rowan was looking at his phone so nearly bowled her over. It took her touching his chest for him to notice her blocking the way. His eyes started on her hand and tracked up her arm to her face within a matter of seconds. He was most definitely disappointed to see her. 

“Hellas take me, what?” He snapped, taking a step back into his room. 

“Hello to you, too,” Aelin said sardonically, matching his mood. “I didn’t realise my mere presence was so offensive. Can’t say it’s unexpected.”

Rowan cursed under his breath before looking right at her. “How else do you expect me to react after you’ve spent gods know how long assuming the worst about me and my work? You’re judging me on my books which you haven’t even read.” He paused like he was considering his words. “I’ve read yours, all of them. And I will happily admit to everyone that they’re good, but you can’t afford me the same courtesy. I don’t understand why you have this gods-damned vendetta against me.’

For a long moment Aelin just stood there stunned, just processing the words he’d said. Then in her shocked state, it was her stubbornness that won out. “Nice of you to let me know you degraded yourself to the level of reading faerie porn, I hope it wasn’t above your reading level.”

She shouldn’t have said it, because Rowan got mad, unexpectedly mad. This wasn’t the playful banter induced irritation that Aelin liked to rile out of him. This was real anger, so fierce and sudden it left Aelin feeling flustered and way out of her depth. 

Rowan let out a short bitter laugh. “You know what, Aelin? I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of this.”

“Just admit—” Aelin had to clear her throat. “Just admit your institutionalised misogyny and distaste for my books. That should excuse you like every other man who can’t admit they’re wrong, you absolute asshat.”

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve your contempt, I’ve never claimed to laud my writing prowess over you.” He was fuming now. “If you want to talk about people admitting you were wrong, you might want to start with yourself.”

Aelin scoffed. “I think you’re threatened, and like any threatened animal you’re lashing out. Just like your writing, your words now won’t be enough.”

Rowan actually took a step back and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You know what, I’ve had enough of your princess act. You’re a fantastic author but thanks to nepotism you’ve had to work nowhere near as hard as I have. Daddy’s money supported you, you can’t deny it. I wasn’t allowed that kind of time or freedom to hone my craft.”

Anger stoked, Aelin wouldn’t, couldn’t back down. “How dare you. How dare you insinuate once again my writing is so inferior to yours just because I don’t fit the idea of the tortured author. Although it's a relief to finally and openly admit your halfassery in your own work.”

“I never—” Rowan snapped. “You know what, fuck you!” 

The swearing took Aelin by surprise, flustered her and apparently scrambled her brain because she had no control or coherency over the words that flew from her mouth of their own accord. “No, you fuck me!” 

If Aelin had possessed lesser restraint she would have clamped a hand over her mouth to try and cram those damning words back in. Instead she just stood there dumbstruck, Rowan did too. Then his whole demeanour changed. The shock morphed into confident determination, like he was piecing together a riddle and had come to a sudden realisation. His green eyes locked onto her’s, taking the steps he needed so that he was leaning a hand on the doorway, close enough that Aelin had to look up at him. 

For a moment the only sound Aelin heard was the beating of her heart on her own ears. Then Rowan lent in just that fraction closer. 

“Do you want me to?” He asked, whisper soft but rough in a way that made Aelin’s gut twist. 

“I—“ her throat was so dry that her voice scratched it and caught there.

A smirk tilted Rowan’s lips, and he became handsome in a dangerous way. “Is this the truth of it, Aelin? You want to fuck me so bad that tease and taunt just to ease your frustrations? How’s that going for you?”

Aelin swallowed, hoping her voice would return with some amount of confidence so that she could admit to the contrary convincingly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Whitethorn.” 

Rowan stood a little taller. “That’s not a no.”

Oh gods.

Thoughts floundering, Aelin was looking for something to rescue her from the situation she had marched herself into. Now Rowan had called her out, and somehow he was able to see through the lies she tossed his way. 

“Have we argued enough that you’ll go back to your dressing room and smile at yourself in the mirror as you come up with clever little insults for our next round?” Rowan asked, reaching out and sweeping her hair over the knot of her dress that sat on her shoulder. “Or should we keep going and see what happens next?”

The gesture had almost been sweet, innocent, but then his thumb dragged down the side of her neck. 

“You’re teasing.” Aelin hated how breathless her voice sounded. 

His featherlight touch ceased, his hand withdrawing to a safer distance. “Am I?”

Mala burn her, what was happening right now? All of Aelin’s wit had deserted her; she stood there, no retort or scathing remark to put Rowan back in his place. The only thought that was rattling around in her empty head was that maybe Rowan wanted this too. It made her senses come alive, all too keenly focused on the man in front of her. Aelin could scent the fresh edge of his cologne, her eyes roved over him without shame or reserve. The brief touch he had given her wasn’t enough, and without her permission she found herself arching ever so slightly towards him in the wish for more. She wanted to feel his hands on her body— wanted to taste him.

“Well, Aelin. What’s it going to be?” Rowan no longer lent on the doorway, standing straight he just looked at her expectantly. 

The next move was her’s to decide. 

He’d outplayed her, Aelin hated it.

“You’re a bastard,” she half mumbled, all her usual arrogance nowhere to be found, she tried to save some face by putting a hand on her hip. An abrasive and hostile stance.

Rowan wasn’t discouraged. “We’ll see if I can change your mind about that.”

Aelin felt her face scrunch in confusion. “What is that suppose—oop!”

Rowan yanked Aelin into his dressing room by the brave arm on her hip, far enough that he could close the door and then press her into it. When she had time to catch her breath, Aelin found her hands bunched in the front of his pristine button up shirt. Their chests heaved in unison, neither of them making the move to take it further. 

“Rowan,” was the only word Aelin could manage, the only thing in her head. 

In response to his name he bowed closer, their mouths almost touching. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Rowan asked. “I need you to say it before I give you what you want.”

Aelin couldn’t say it, it was like the final barrier in admitting she was wrong. So instead she went to close the distance herself, but to her gut sinking disappointment Rowan drew back. 

“I’ve read your books, Aelin. I know you know how to use words,” Rowan made sure his know-it-all tone came through.

She was stuck, trapped and wanting so badly. And from the satisfied smile on his face, Rowan knew it. 

“Yes,” she predicted the insistence that would come from Rowan’s mouth and clarified. “Yes, kiss me.”

Surprisingly he sighed in relief. “Thank the gods.” 

Aelin gasped as Rowan closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to her mouth, then moaning as he didn’t hold back. That small sound was enough to snap just a little bit more of Rowan’s restraint and he crowded her fully against the door, pressing their bodies together. It felt close to heaven having his hard body on her’s like this with how perfectly they aligned. When Rowan’s hands dragged from her back down to her waist Aelin arched into him, bringing them that much closer. He held her against him with strong and insistent hands. 

“Is this all you wanted, princess?” Rowan asked, blessing her lips with another heady kiss. “Or did you really mean what you said?”

Aelin had two choices. She could hold to her stubbornness and pride, twist the door handle somewhere behind her and flee. Or… she could stay and have Rowan do exactly what she had told him to do. 

“Rowan I—“ she got distracted when Rowan kissed down her neck. “I want you to.”

“Want me to what, exactly?”

This was Rowan’s revenge. For every insult and teasing word that Aelin had thrown at him for years, he was dragging this out. Pulling drawn out confirmations and pleas just to see her squirm. He was going to make her say the words just for spite. It just made Aelin want it—him—more.

“Fuck me, Rowan,” Aelin said, a hand im Rowan’s hair to bring his lips closer. “I want it.”

He growled, something right out of her books, a sound low in his throat that had the blood in Aelin’s veins heating. Rowan abandoned his words, and let his actions speak now. He hooked a hand under her knee, spreading her legs wide enough that he could press between them. Once again, all Aelin could do was gasp as she felt the length of him press into her core, grinding against her. She still had a hand fisted in Rowan’s shirt and she gripped and twisted it tighter, moaning as her hips began rolling in time with his. 

Rowan was kissing her like he could swallow the sounds. It felt divine, and tortuous and not enough. She might have voiced it aloud because the next moment Rowan had a hold of her other thigh and was carrying her across the room. Aelin just looked at him, a little stunned by the brazen act as she was settled on a flat, hard surface. 

“You alright there?” Rowan asked with a kiss to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. 

“Uh-huh,” Aelin nodded. “Just… unexpected.” 

“We’ll add it to the list for today,” was all Rowan said before he was kissing her again. 

With Aelin now seated on a steady surface, the bench below the mounted mirror, it gave Rowan’s hands newer freedoms. They started on her ass and then roamed back to her waist. Aelin could thank her dress for that attention. It had a flat panel that cinched in her waist above the skirt. The waist piece was cut to scoop under her breasts, almost like a corset, the top of the dress tying in knots at her shoulders. What that did was create a perfect path for Rowan’s hands to follow. 

Aelin looked into Rowan’s green eyes as she felt his hands move higher, stopping at the seams at the underside of her breasts. His eyes darkened as he took care in running his thumb along the line of the layered fabric, but it was enough sensation to fill her with a new wave of need. Her fingers went to the buttons of Rowan’s shirt, swiftly undoing it to, exploring the fevered skin beneath. 

With her bare hands on his skin Rowan leaned closer, drawn to her, and he tipped her face with his chin so that he could kiss her. His tongue ran along her bottom lip, asking for permission. Aelin gave it willingly, her tongue doing the same. She wanted more, she wanted everything. 

Just as eager, Rowan’s hands skimmed over Aelin’s breasts, heavy and nearly aching beneath the fabric. She wanted to protest at the lack of attention he paid them, she might have if Rowan’s tongue not flicked at the roof of her mouth at just that moment. But then his fingers stopped at the knots at her shoulders. 

“These have been distracting me all day,” Rowan said in between one kiss and the next. “Can I?”

The way Rowan asked for permission despite the frenzy of lust they found themselves was touching, but Aelin wasn’t going to bother to start a conversation about it and nodded. She could feel one of the knot’s loosening under Rowan’s fingers. It would have been easier to just slip it over her shoulder but what he’d said made her let him be. And if he kept kissing her like this along with that distraction, who was she to complain?

The pull of fabric on her skin disappeared entirely and Aelin knew he’d accomplished his task. Rowan let the fabric fall and when his hand met utterly bare skin he groaned, hand splaying on her collarbone. 

“I knew it,” he hissed onto the skin of her neck, his hand travelling lower in time with his kisses. 

“Huh?” Aelin managed, focus zoning on what his hand was doing. 

Rowan’s body shuddered as he cupped her bare breast, delicately catching the peak of it between his forefinger and thumb. “That it was just your dress holding these up.” His idle hand went to her ass and he squeezed. “Are you wearing anything under this thing?”

Aelin kissed just under Rowan’s ear so he could hear her whisper. “Why don’t you find out.”

In truth, Aelin did have underwear on but right now she was regretting not wearing something a little nicer. All it was was a beigey coloured thong, made for all day comfort. Not for an unexpected hookup with her authorial enemy. Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, his hand had travelled down her body and under the hem of her skirt. His fingers were tracing patterns over her thigh, inches away from finding out for himself what was hidden under her dress. All the while he pinched and rolled her nipple between his fingers, keeping her on edge. Finally his finger traced over the soft cotton of her underwear, starting on her hip and following it along the crease of her thigh. Her hips jolted forward when a finger skimmed over her clit, then lower.

Rowan groaned, resting their foreheads together as a knuckle dragging back and forth over her folds. “You’re soaked.”

The touching started to become the best kind of agonising, and Aelin was losing her patience. “Get on with it.”

“Aelin, that’s not you get what you want,” Rowan taunted, but his words didn’t match his actions. 

Not in the slightest as he pulled her underwear to the side and pushed a thumb on her clit. 

“Gods,” Aelin breathed, clinging to the man in front of her like a lifeline. “More.”

Rowan rubbed a slow circle around her clit and kissed her. What he was doing was driving her insane. Every touch was bliss, because Rowan gods-damned Whitethorn knew exactly what he was doing. He kept her right on the edge, playing with her to the point of just ready to break. Aelin reached for his belt, her hands weren’t gentle as he tugged the buckle loose and moved onto the fly of his pants. She could feel his hard cock straining against the dark denim. That broke the last of Aelin’s resolve—she was tired of playing. 

They both seemed to snap into a frenzy, Aelin yanking his shirt off his shoulder as Rowan attacked the other knot that held up the deep V of her neckline. Her chest was fully exposed now and the skirt of her dress was bunched at her waist. As Aelin looped her fingers into the belt loops of Rowan’s pants he pulled something from his pocket and slammed it on the bench beside her. They both worked to push his jeans down, Aelin making sure that his briefs went with them. 

He was glorious, her fantasies about him didn’t do him justice. There was a male kind of pride on his face when Aelin looked up at him with what might have been awe. She was going to wipe that look off his smug face. 

“Should I measure it,” she said, moving her arm towards his dick, forearm extended. But just when his appendage and her’s were about to line up she ran her fingers down the length of him, right down to cup his balls. 

Rowan bowed forward, keeping a grip on her hip and the other slammed down on the bench. Eyes down, he watched as Aelin worked him, his breath catching with every twist and pull. The sight of this man under her thrall was intoxicating—the tension in every muscle, pleasure rippling across his features. The fact she had been able to elicit this kind of reaction from him made Aelin moan as her core pulsed with need. 

“Stop, stop,” Rowan panted, putting a hand on her wrist. “Just… wait.”

“Oh?” Aelin said and released him. 

Rowan’s answer wasn’t verbal, instead his fingers traced a swirl on the inside of her knee. He didn’t linger there, only went higher and higher until he had hold of the waistband of her underwear and pulled them off. Aelin lifted her hips to help rid herself of them, scooting to the edge of the counter. Closer to Rowan. 

She went to reach for him again, but Rowan grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of her palm before guiding it to rest behind her. Aelin had thought this was it. That Rowan would surge forward and fill her until she was screaming. She tried not to look too disappointed as a chaste kiss was pressed to her lips then her cheek. When those patient kisses reached her neck they changed, they were heavier, more insistent, full of heat as his teeth scraped across her skin. Aelin was so focused on the feeling of his lips, she didn’t know what his hands were up to until a finger softly teased her clit. 

Want rushed through her, pooling where Rowan’s hand began to tease with purpose. Aelin moaned, one arm kept her upright, the hand of the other dove into Rowan’s hair. That hold, with her elbow over his shoulder blade, became her anchor and the rhythm of Rowan stoking picked up. She was shuddering and gasping, lost in the feel of Rowan’s touch. When he slipped a finger into her, Aelin almost came undone. 

“That’s it,” Rowan whispered against her ear, nipping at it. “Don’t hold out on me now.”

“Oh gods,” Aelin gasped as the finger inside her crooked just right. “Rowan.”

“I’m right here.” He pressed and circled down on the apex of her thighs. “And I want you to come.”

It was a command that Aelin was powerless to ignore. Her core tightened and then the tension broke, she rolled her hips through the waves of pleasure taking over her body. All throughout Rowan whispered praises, kissed the flushed skin of her neck, rocked his fingers in a perfect motion to draw out her orgasm. Aelin felt boneless once she had caught her breath and she knew she must look a little dazed as she stared up into green eyes that were full of indecent intent and entirely self-satisfied.

“Does that answer your snide remarks about me not knowing how to please that bundle of nerves?” Rowan teased. 

“I’m going to have to admit I was wrong,” Aelin said. “It won’t happen again.”

That made him laugh, a short, pleasant sound that skittered across her skin. That sensation only intensified when Rowan angled her chin up to look at him. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he declared and Aelin couldn’t help her eyes dropping to his cock that still jutted out of his jean. Hard and ready for her. The denim was quickly shed from the rest of his body. 

“I thought we’d never get there,” Aelin quipped and she inwardly kicked herself. Rowan had just rocked her world and was potentially going to do it again, and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. 

Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, he just kissed her and picked something up from the bench beside her. When there was a crinkle of foil Aelin opened her eyes to see a condom caught in between Rowan’s fingers and his wallet unfolded by her thigh. Surprised at the preparedness, and honestly just the consideration of it, Aelin’s stupid mouth ran her into trouble again.

“Hoping to seduce one of your fans back here?” She said and instantly regretted it. 

“You’re such a smartass,” Rowan said, mirth dancing in his words. “You’ll be thanking me for always being prepared soon enough.”

“Awful sure of your—“

Rowan cut her off with a fierce kiss, his hands pulling Aelin’s hips closer and nudging the head of his cock at her entrance. Anticipation hung in the air as Rowan waited, whatever for Aelin didn’t know. His eyes took in her face before he lent in, lips hot on her neck. Aelin shuddered, ready to beg if he didn’t do something, and soon. Rowan saved her that profound embarrassment. 

He kissed over her pulse point, tongue flicking. It was then he pushed in, pulling Aelin closer, and filling her with a single delicious stroke. Aelin threw her head back, moaning loudly in relief. Rowan felt utterly perfect inside her, even more so when he started to move. The thick length of him drove in and out, feeling good but from this angle it wasn’t enough. Aelin started grinding forward to meet him, their gasps and moans filling the room. 

“Aelin,” Rowan groaned as she kissed her way up his neck. “I need more.”

Aelin met his lips. “Then take it.” 

The only warning she received were Rowan’s hands tightening on her thighs, and then they were moving across the room. Aelin held on, a slightly delirious laugh escaping her as he carried her so effortlessly. Then she was lowered onto the couch, her bare back meeting the soft cushions. Aelin’s dress was still bunched around her waist but she couldn’t care less. Not when Rowan was looking at her like she was the centre of his world. And she supposed that in this moment he might be. He was braced over her, surveying her with unfiltered desire. 

“You’re beautiful,” his voice was nearly reverent.

“I know,” Aelin said, her irreverence equaled the esteem of his sentiments. 

He laughed, something that seemed out of place considering the situation they were in. “The correct response is ‘thank you’. We’ll have to work on those manners of yours.”

Aelin keened as Rowan thrust into her, a lazy and thorough pace. He took the care to slip a thumb between them, exposing her clit, allowing friction to hit it with every thrust of his hips. Under Rowan’s ministrations it didn’t take long for the hot coil low in Aelin’s stomach to tighten again, craving the release she knew Rowan was going to give her. He bowed, putting his mouth on her breast, pressing an opened mouth kisses in time with the bouncing from the sharp thrusts. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth Aelin cried out, her core fluttering. This was euphoric, Aelin would crave this every day for the rest of her life. 

“You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question but still Aelin answered. “Gods, yes.”

Rowan kissed her mouth again, licking in and teasing her tongue with his. Then he angled her hips upward, grinding on her clit more earnestly. He was on his way to outdoing every other man she had been with. He would ruin her and she’d thank him for it.

“Prove me right,” Rowan breathed onto mouth. “Tell me this is why you teased me.”

“It is,” Aelin said, a moan catching her words. “Gods, please don’t stop now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rowan promised. 

Rowan gave her a hard thrust, followed by a steady drag of his hip and Aelin broke. Moaning his name like a prayer she allowed the pleasure to consume her wholly. She had little sense beside the feeling of Rowan driving into her over and over, heightening the peak of her orgasm. He didn’t last long after that, cursing as he came inside with hurried but thorough jerks of his hips. 

Aelin ran her hands over Rowan’s sweaty skin as they caught their breaths. He graced her skin with lazy kisses like he wasn’t quite done with her yet. Eventually he did pull away and out, walking across the room to dispose of the condom. Aelin fixed her dress and retied the knots on her shoulder. Without a mirror they must look a mess, but Aelin didn’t care. All her focus was going to the man who was dressing in front of her. 

“So, should we talk about it?” Rowan asked, picking his shirt off the floor. 

“I… what is there to talk about?” Aelin hedged. 

Rowan gave her a smile like he could read every one of her insecurities. “Maybe about how I’d very much like to do it again.”

“You would?”

Rowan left his shirt on the back of the chair and prowled over to her. She thought he might kiss her or pin her back on the couch, but Aelin was pleasantly surprised as he instead sat next to her and pulled her into his lap. 

“Why don’t we just admit that I like you and you like me, and we’ll go from there?” Rowan said, sweetly brushing hair out of her face. 

Aelin nodded enthusiastically, smiling as their lips touched. “Yeah, lets do that.”

They made out like teenagers, and it was just starting to get interesting when there was a knock on the door. They froze where they were, Rowan’s hand in her breast and Aelin’s mouth on his neck.

“Yes?” Rowan’s voice was strained.

“You have a panel starting in five minutes, Mr Whitethorn,” someone said through the door. 

“Thank you,” Rowan called back. “I’ll be right there.”

They both started laughing and Aelin stood. “They’ll be knocking on my door next and I won’t be there.” 

“Well, we have places to be,” he reminded, probably to them both. 

Aelin went over to the mirror and tidied herself up. She was flushed and she could only hope it would fade in the next five minutes, otherwise she’d be blaming the lack of airflow in the convention centre. Rowan came to stand behind her, sweeping a hand through his hair to make it neater and less like Aelin had been tugging her fingers through it. She turned, fixing his collar and kissing him once. 

There was a lot unsaid between them, but right now they had a job to do. Aelin wanted nothing more than to stay shut in here and have their own kind of fun.

“Come on,” Aelin said. “Once this is done, I’ll show some more things you’re right about.”

~~~~~

Fenrys checked his watch. The panel had started five minutes late apparently thanks to his two star authors. It was highly unusual for Rowan to be late, he tended to be early if anything. Aelin tended to be 50/50 on the matter. She was likely to appear just at the right moment after she’d worked everyone into a tizzy. It was quite a feat to be the manager of two authors who were such polar opposites. 

The host introduced them, and they both walked out on stage. Aelin gave the crowd a wave as they cheered, while Rowan just nodded politely. Unsurprising reactions from the two of them. What did surprise him was Rowan pulling out Aelin’s chair and tucking her in before he took his own seat. And there was the smile Aelin aimed at him. That was weird. Really weird. 

“What was that?”

Fenrys turned to see Lysandra who had appeared next to him. As Aelin’s publicist it wasn’t uncommon for her to be at these things, especially with how much of a firecracker her charge tended to be. 

“They were nice to each other,” Fenrys said lowly as the questions started. 

“Weird,” Lysandra concurred.

“Yeah.”

For a while they just watched the panel unfold and the host led the conversation. Aelin and Rowan did their job well, and for that Fenrys was grateful. It sure as hell made his job easier. 

“Aelin wasn’t in her dressing room, I wasn’t even sure she was going to turn up,” Lysandra muttered.

“Weird,” Fenrys said this time.

Lysandra hummed her agreement. 

The sound of Aelin’s bright laughter drew Fenrys attention and his mouth popped open when he realised she had been laughing at something Rowan had said. This was just progressively getting more confusing. 

“What… he’s not funny,” Fenrys whispered. “I would know, and Aelin knows. What the hell is happening?”

“What changed?” Lysandra added. “This morning she was ready to rip his throat out.”

Fenrys turned his attention back to the stage, just watching for further signs that his two authors who were self professed enemies were… friendlier. Giggling made him look away to a couple of fangirls just in front of them. 

“Look at them, they’re totally fucking,” one of them said.

The other tried to keep a lid on her laughter. “I swear he’s got a hickey.”

Fenrys’ eyes went wide and he turned to find Lysandra looking at him with a mirrored expression. 

“Nooooo,” Lysandra hissed. “When?”

“I…” Fenrys was too shocked and his brain scrambled for an answer. Then it hit him, loud and clear. “Right now!”

His voice was slightly too loud and drew some curious looks, he gave them an apologetic smile. 

“What?” The publicist demanded. 

“I saw them arguing,” Fenrys explained, recalling what he’d seen a little earlier. He’d been heading to Rowan’s dressing room to have a chat about his next publication date when he saw Aelin at his door, getting into another one of their spats. “I heard them arguing and I left them to it. I really left them to it. Because I came back later and heard some noises and thought maybe he was blowing off steam with one of the fangirls but, hey. Guess not.”

“Wow, good for them,” Lysandra said through quiet laughter.

A few moments of silence went by as Fenrys digested this turn of events and the complications it might pose for him. All and all it would be good, certainly a lot less tension in the room. 

“Did you know that Aelin hasn’t read his books?” Fenrys said, watching as Rowan sent Aelin a secretive smile that wasn’t all that secret in a room of one hundred people. 

Lysandra nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah, I keep telling her to. Maybe now she will.”

~~~~~

After the panel Aelin snuck away from Rowan and went to the booth that their publisher had set up. All his books were there and she bought every single one of them. With the animosity between the two of them well and truly burnt away to nothing this was the first task on Aelin’s list. She had avoided Rowan’s work out of stubbornness and spite, but now she was curious to see what he’s written. 

With a pile of books in her arms, Aelin returned to Rowan’s dressing room. He was seated on the couch looking at his phone and he looked up at the noise of the door snapping shut.

“What have you got there?” He asked, setting his phone aside. 

“I thought you could give me a private signing,” Aelin said. “The front page of each, please.”

“Is that so?” 

Aelin nodded, bottom lip tucked under her teeth. There was a small table beside the couch and she put the books there, pulling her gold pen out of her pocket. With it between two fingers she waved it in front of him, standing so she was between Rowan’s knees. 

“No matter what, keep signing,” Aelin told him, pressing the pen into his hand and then kissing him deeply. “No matter what.”

Rowan was breathing hard and Aelin’s hands raked down his chest and stopped at the waist of his jeans. 

“Grab a book, get started.” She popped the top button of his jeans only after he’d picked up the first book. “Now we can get started.” 

Rowan did well, despite the distraction. Every book was signed, but by the last one his signature was nearly illegible. Her mouth had been entertaining him while he signed and now while Aelin sat beside him so innocently inspecting his work it was very hard to ignore the very proud distraction for her. 

She tutted, determinedly glancing towards Rowan’s eyes. “Now you’ll have to start all over again.” 

Rowan was having none of that. The gold pen was tossed across the room and strong hands hauled her into his lap. Aelin laughed but that was quickly silenced by a growl and demand in her ear. “Later.”

When those hands began to wander, Aelin readily agreed. “Later.”

Maybe later she’d even tell him her wish had come true. 

~~~~~

Well... I think this might be my first official smutty oneshot. I hope it wasn’t half bad.

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash​ // @literary-licorice​ // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine​ // @highqueenofelfhame​ // @3am-reading​ // @soup-that-is-too-hawt​ // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore​ // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca​ // @sleep-and-books​ // @alifletcher2012​ // @westofmoon​ // @sleeping-and-books​ // @ttakeitbacknoww​ // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses​ // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen​ // @velarian-trash​ // @queenofxhearts​ // @heroesofterrasen​ // @highladyofstoriesandmusic​ // @empire-of-wildfire​ // @camerooonchiu​ // @crackedship​ // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books​ // @yourwhisperingshadows​ // @thesirenwashere​ // @tswaney17​ // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ // @cat5313​ // @judelovescardan​ // @flowerspringsea​ // @chaoticskyy​ // @the-regal-warrior​ // @fanfictrash3000​ // @blueeyes425​ // @starseternalnighttriumphant​ // @bamchickawowow​ // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda​ // @flora-and-fae​ // @thereaderandfangirl​ // @illyrian-bookworm​ // @chemicha​ // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd​ // @that-odd-puzzle-piece​ // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ // @girl-who-reads-the-books​ // @hizqueen4life​ // @the-third-me​ // @1islessthan3books​ // @bestmelle​ // @cursebreaker29​ // @b00kworm​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @aesthetics-11​ // @maastrash​ // @mynewdreamwasyou​ // @the-last-apprentice​ // @charincharge​ // @firestarsandseneschals​ // @scarznstars​ // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships​ // @df3ndyr​ // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems​ // @larisssss​ // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7​ // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10​ // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77​ // @jesstargaryenqueen​ // @anntheintrovert​ // @starbornvalkyrie​ // @loudphantomdragon​ // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @maddymelv // @sierrareads​ // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @pullnpeeltwizzlers​ // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @elriel4life​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis​ // @swankii-art-teacher​ // @grandma-noob-lord​ // @vanzetanze​ // @highlady-brittney​ // @story-scribbler​ // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren​ // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @whimsicallyreading​ // @goddess-aelin​ // @littleboxofthunder​ // @empress-ofbloodshed​ // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae​ // @charlizeed​ // @feysand-loml​ // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ // @alyx801​ // @amandaswallowtail​ // @louiseleblancdiggory​ // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr​ // @thegreyj​ // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream​ // @magnifique1807​

#editing might be a little iffy at the end but we'll survive for now #rowaelin fanfiction

[mzzsimson]

Rowaelin Sims

I've been reading the Throne of Glass series this summer and I'm finally on the last book! I've been obsessed with these characters, especially Aelin and Rowan 🥹 Here are some Rowaelin Sims photo cards!

#my sims #ts4 #ts4 cc #ts4 lookbook #throne of glass #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fanart #tog fandom #tog fanart #procreate #lightroom #sims 4 #sims 4 cc #mine: edits #booktok #book tumblr

[rowaelinfandomlove]

Introducing... The Rowaelin Monthly!

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Secret project time!

So i'm technically posting this a day early, but I couldn't resist. This is something new I'm starting this year, posting a wrap up of sorts for the rowaelin fandom at the end of every month!

There's a section listing out every new multichapter fic started that month, and then taken from the poll I sent out earlier this month, a section where I list shoutouts to different writers and fics that you guys put down! And then finally, also from the poll, there's a section where I'll highlight different reasons why we love rowaelin every month!

If I come up with some new ideas, it may change structure from month to month, but without further ado... here's edition 1!!

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#the rowaelin monthly #january #edition 1 #rowaelin

[goddess-aelin]

I said that I’d have the next chapter of my fic done yet here we are, ficless. Have this Rowan moodboard as compensation

#rowaelin #Rowan whitethorn #Rowan #throne of glass #tog #buzzard #bird boy #my edit

[dread3r]

heir of fire // queen of shadows: parallels on hope

#aelin galythinius #throne of glass #tog #heir of fire #hof #queen of shadows #qos #rowaelin #manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #elorcan #lysaedion #sjm #sjmaas #tog edit #something about hope because i badly need it

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Scars @rowaelinscourt

Find my Rowaelin Month Masterlist here

warnings: none except a joke of editing, ~1k words

Scars

Aelin sighed as she knelt on the stone floor of the washroom before her daughter.

It was mid afternoon and a gentle splash of sunlight cut through the window just behind them, illuminating the small room just enough.  Wynne, youngest of her small brood and current biggest problem of the castle, sat on an old oak stool with her legs kicking idly out in front of her. The wood clicked and groaned as Wynne wiggled about, unable to stay still.  She was barely five years old but already had enough attitude and energy for Aelin to wonder if it was possible for her daughter to be an exact replica of her. Maybe this was the gods' retribution taking place for all the chaos Aelin had caused in her youth.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Aelin asked. She dipped a rag in a bowl of water and tonic on the ground beside her before slowly raising it to Wynne’s knee.  She’d dismissed the servants not long ago, telling them she'd see to her youngest daughter.  It wasn’t well received.  Especially considering Aelin had cancelled a delegation meeting with an advisor from Doranelle, but she’d just send Ren along with an apology and an old weapon from the stores and all would be forgiven.  Hopefully.

Wynne wiggled again and Aelin reached out to put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder.  It was a firm touch, steady and significant.  She met her Wynne’s eyes—emerald green.

“I was playing,” Wynne said slowly. She held up the edge of her dress and stared at the cut on her knee. Already it was welling with blood.

Aelin began to clean what she could, dabbing at blood and dirt.  She tried to remain gentle, but Wynne flinched all the same.  Her pale hair was falling out of the coronet of braids a maid had put it in just that morning.  Fine wisps fell around the little girl's face in a halo.

“Right, you were playing in the stables which I’ve told you not to do,” Aelin said.

Wynne fisted her dress in her hands and looked down. “Meiri and Fin and Coilin were already playing in there too!”

“And papa is talking to them about that too,” Aelin assured her.  Really the stables were no place for any of the children but Meiri.  At fifteen, the eldest of Aelin’s brood, had begun riding lessons in earnest.  But even if she were learning horse care and how to ride well, she shouldn’t have taken any of her siblings out to the stables.   

Aelin wiped up the blood, being careful when Wynne winced again.

Wynne had yet to display what her magic would be so Aelin didn’t rely on any special healing magic for her daughter.  It wasn’t strange for a fae child to not show any magic, Rowan had assured her.  But even when she was still in the womb, Wynne had been different from all her siblings.  

Aelin worked quickly and efficiently until she wrapped a clean bit of cloth over and around the knee.  Then she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the bandage.

“Now,” Aelin said as she readjusted Wynne’s dress. “What have we said about going to places you're not allowed to go?”

“I wanted to see the baby pony,” Wynne murmured, she clasped her hands before her and looked through her eyelashes at Aelin.

Indeed a new foal had been born just two days ago.  It was wonderful and excited and children just loved when new babies came around.

Aelin sighed. “Why didn't you ask papa or me to take you?”

“You've been busy.”  

The soft admission cut at Aelin and it was her turn to look away.  She remained kneeling at Wynne’s side, running her hand gently over the bandage.  It was true she and Rowan had been busy.  Tensions were running high with the witches even if Manon was an ally.  And then the flooding in Doranelle which was why she was supposed to meet with Ren.  Oh, and a large portion of farmland had been eaten away by locusts that summer.  It was a strange phenomenon that didn’t happen often, but when it did it made things a bit more miserable than usual.

And Aelin had needed to deal with it.  Rowan had been offering services to the training the army and even going on a few expeditions as of late.  He’d long loved the journey and exertion in those sorts of adventures that Aelin couldn’t begrudge him that.

But here was little Wynne who just wanted to see the new foal.

“Oh, darling,” Aelin sighed.  She stood and cupped Wynne’s face in her hands. “Papa and I will always be here for you.  We always want to help you.  But we have these rules for a reason.”

Wynne’s lower lip trembled and Aelin swept her daughter up, holding her closer to her chest.  They stood like that in the small washroom for several minutes.  Long enough for Wynne’s tears to subside and Aelin to hold herself together just a little longer.

She swung Wynne onto one hip, brushing stray hairs from her eyes. 

“Papa and I love you with all our hearts, you know that right?”

Wynne nodded slowly and brought one hand up to Aelin’s cheek.  The touch was gentle and sudden all at once that Aelin could only look into her daughter’s eyes and wait.

“Momma?” Wynne poked at one spot in particular on Aelin’s cheek where she knew was a scar from the war. “Am I gonna have a scar like you?”

Aelin swallowed.  Oh Mala, she hoped not. “I don’t know, love.  Maybe.”

“I just wanna be brave,” Wynne said.  She snuggled herself into the crook of Aelin’s neck and sighed. “Just like you, Momma.”

Tears pricked Aelin’s eyes and she held her daughter tight against her.  This beautiful little soul was already so strong.  She was her own being in a world of voices already so loud and chaotic.  But Aelin knew in her mother’s heart that Wynne would one day do great things.

“You are brave, love,” Aelin said, “brave and wonderful.”

And she meant it.  With all her heart.

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

not tagging to try and keep my sanity in tact lol what sanity

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelinmonth2023 #throne of glass #tog #fanfic

[leiawritesstories]

A Visit to Orynth

Rowaelin Month, Day 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: canon has been edited because i said so, Maeve, royal politics, references to the blood oath and other canon fun

Enjoy!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

The prince first visited Orynth when he was a young male, barely twenty-four years old. His parents frequently traveled for diplomatic reasons, and they’d invited him to accompany them for the first time that year. We won’t ask you to do anything, they promised. Just come along and get a sense for what the world of politics is like. 

Prince Rowan Whitethorn had never been a fan of politics. He preferred steel to statecraft–give him a broadsword or a pair of hatchets any day. 

But he went to Orynth that spring, and for some reason that he couldn’t name, he felt oddly at home in the sprawling city with its unusual but somehow perfect blend of stone buildings and patches of greenspace like little meadows dotting the cobbled streets. 

He left most of the diplomacy and politicking to his parents, who spent most of their days holed up in council chambers with Queen Elena and King Brannon and their court. The first couple of days, he had to attend the sessions, and he paid as much attention as he could before resorting to drawing little battle diagrams on his note sheets. His father noticed, but said nothing, only muffled his knowing smile and quietly directed Rowan towards the training yard. So Rowan spent the rest of that visit with the palace guards, sparring and training and exchanging technique and tactical notes with the highly skilled military. 

That was the last time he visited Orynth for nearly three centuries. 

Upon his return to Doranelle, Rowan entered the legions, and he barely saw his home or his family for the next three hundred years. He rose swiftly through the ranks, ascending rapidly to the rank of captain before he was seventy-five years old. His queen took notice of his prowess, and he was inducted into the bloodsworn legions, an honor granted to precious few warriors. The decades he spent serving closely under the queen’s command honed him into a warrior of near-impossible capacity, and honed his heart into a block of ice, as impassive as the glaciers of the far north. 

~

Prince Rowan Whitethorn was three hundred and thirty years old the second time he visited Orynth. 

Erilea had been casually discussing their relations with Doranelle for the last century, and it had finally reached a point where the rulers of the Erilean kingdoms decided to host a summit and invite representatives from Wendlyn and Doranelle. Wendlyn, of course, sent a delegation of Ashryvers, who were relations of the royal family of Terrasen. Maeve called together her bloodsworn and chose two of them to accompany the five selected Fae delegates. 

“I trust you will keep your Queen aware of the discussions,” she purred, a deceptively soft smile gracing her lips as she handed Rowan and Vaughan their notes for the talks. 

Rowan dipped his head in acquiescence. “Of course, Majesty.” 

Three weeks later, as he stepped off the ship and set foot into Terrasen for the second time in his life, he drew in a lungful of the crisp, clear mountain air, and found that its scent comforted a part of him that had been empty and aching since his parents passed away. 

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, occupying himself instead with the concerns of the discussions. Maeve had sent him–her legendary warrior-prince–for a reason, despite his lack of diplomatic skill, and he intended to prove that he could hold his own at a meeting full of human royalty. And if things went poorly, then he could fall back onto Vaugahn’s quiet, diplomatic tact. 

King Orlon Galathynius greeted the Doranelle contingent as they entered the council room on the first day of the summit. The human king was aging, but the lines around his eyes and the gray of his hair only strengthened his image as a capable, compassionate leader. According to what Rowan knew, Orlon had ruled Terrasen for nearly twenty years and showed no signs of abdicating soon, although his younger brother, Crown Prince Rhoe Galathynius, worked closely with the king. 

“Welcome to Terrasen,” King Orlon said warmly, clasping Rowan’s hand in a firm handshake that proved he retained his physical strength. “It’s an honor to welcome Doranelle back to our land.” 

“The honor is ours.” Rowan dipped his head in a bow to the king. He bowed lower for his own Queen, but the courtesy was still due. 

Inside the meeting chamber, a dark-haired, younger version of Orlon approached Rowan and Vaughan and exchanged greetings. “Rhoe Galathynius. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Prince Whitethorn, Lord Recorre.” 

“Please, leave off the title, Highness.” Rowan shook Rhoe’s hand, noting the insignias the human prince wore on his jacket–military rankings. “We’re all just delegates for peaceful relations, aren’t we?” 

“Indeed.” Rhoe smiled. “Let me show you to your seats; this room is rarely used, so it’s always a nightmare to navigate. I keep telling Orlon we need to use the throne room, but he–ah, Evalin!” A stately, golden-haired woman with the distinctive turquoise eyes of the Ashryver family and a slender silver circlet around her brow had walked up and laid her hand fondly on Rhoe’s arm. He tucked her arm into his with a soft, tender smile. “Vaughan, Rowan, allow me to introduce Princess Evalin Ashryver, my lovely and far more talented wife.” 

“Welcome back to Orynth,” Evalin smiled. “It’s been far too long since we hosted Queen Maeve’s people.” 

In that moment, Rowan knew two things with absolute certainty. First, Princess Evalin Ashryver knew that he and Vaugahn were bloodsworn–he didn’t know how she knew, but she did. And second, if her lineage (and her scent) were correct, she was a direct descendant of the Fae Queen Mab, Maeve’s sister, and therefore was most likely the Fae Queen of the West. 

Suddenly, he wondered if he’d been sent to Orynth to view Evalin with his own senses and bring knowledge of the Ashryver princess back to Maeve. 

The sonorous peal of the great brass gong tore Rowan away from his thoughts. 

“Ah, we’re about to start.” Rhoe dipped his head at Rowan and Vaughan. “It truly is an honor to host you in Orynth. Please, attend dinner with Evalin and I.” He flicked a half-grin at his wife. “We’d better get to our seats, Fireheart.” 

Fireheart. 

“You and your misleading nicknames,” Evalin teased as she and Rhoe walked off. Rowan’s Fae hearing picked up their conversation. “I don’t have the fire gift, my love, only the water. Fire is Brannon’s line’s gift.” 

“You have the fire in your heart, my love,” Rhoe returned. “And who knows? Perhaps someday the gift will manifest in one of our children, if we’re so blessed.” 

“It’s a slim chance.” Evalin’s whisper contained an ocean of sadness. 

“It’s still a chance, Fireheart.” Rhoe kissed his wife’s forehead. 

Rowan stopped listening then, overcome by what he’d just learned. The fire gift. It wasn’t a myth after all–the gift of fire magic laid dormant in the royal bloodline of Terrasen, and the intersection of the Ashryver and Galathynius lines with Rhoe and Evalin’s marriage just might be enough for the near-mythical gift of Brannon Galathynius’s fire to manifest again. 

Fireheart. So the prince’s affectionate name for his wife was more than just an endearment–it was a wish for their future. For their kingdom’s future. 

Fireheart. 

~

Rowan went to Orynth again ten years later, but this time, he went uninvited. He shifted into his hawk form when his small ship had docked in the harbor, and he remained in that form for the entirety of the next few days. He went to Orynth not to negotiate or pay a formal visit, but to linger on the parapets of the castle and pick up conversation. 

He went as a spy. 

On his last night in Orynth–a blustery, rainy night–Rowan perched on a window ledge and pressed his hawk body as close to the window glass as possible without making a terribly loud noise. He stretched his Fae senses down and out, into the dining room below his perch, and strained to hear the conversation taking place in the room. The royal family of Terrasen was hosting the royal family of Adarlan, and rumor had it that relations between Adarlan and every other Erilean kingdom were tense, if not outright hostile. 

Rowan couldn’t make out much of the conversation, but he heard enough. Bits and pieces of politely veiled threats, the sneer behind the king of Adarlan’s tone, the uncomfortable shifting of the staff and guards who stood at the edge of the room–it pointed towards looming conflict. He hopped off his perch and flew up to a window he knew was in Rhoe and Evalin’s chambers. Perhaps he’d hear something worthwhile from them. 

It wasn’t long before the prince and princess came wearily into their rooms, speaking in hushed tones about the poor signals from Adarlan. 

“I’m worried, Rhoe,” Evalin admitted. There was a soft clink as she laid her jewelry on top of the dressing table. “There’s something bigger than just Adarlan at play here.” 

“Something magical?” Rhoe asked. 

“It’s possible. I…I don’t think it’s purely magical, though. That ring of Adarlan’s…I can’t describe it, but I felt like it was looking at me, almost like it wanted to claim me.” 

Rowan gripped his perch with all the strength of his taloned feet, determined not to slip despite his shock. 

“Fireheart,” Rhoe breathed, coming over to embrace his wife, “are you certain? I trust your judgment–I have no way of detecting magic–but…” He took a deep, measured breath. “A wrong move from Adarlan could constitute war, and if there’s magic at play…” 

“It could end us all,” Evalin whispered. 

Rowan had heard enough. Quietly, he hopped off the window ledge and launched himself up into the wind and rain, his thoughts churning as rapidly as the storm. Adarlan. Magic. War. He hadn’t known what his Queen had wanted him to discover when she sent him to Orynth, but he’d bet his broadsword that it wasn’t rumors of magical war. 

Three weeks later, when his ship docked back in Doranelle, Lorcan delivered the news, and the information he’d heard while spying suddenly clicked into place. 

Adarlan had performed some kind of ritual that banished magic. The King of Adarlan had armies marching across Erilea to root out magic-users, and everywhere his army went, he claimed dominion. Melisande and Fenharrow had capitulated. Eyllwe seemed on the brink of collapsing. The Western Wastes and the Witchlands had separated. 

And the entire royal family of Terrasen was dead. 

~

Orynth was so different from the first time Rowan had set foot in the city, but the mountain breezes still smelled the same. The ancient and modern buildings and the winding cobblestone streets bore scars from the war, but new green life had begun to creep across the slashes and scuffs and scorch marks, blanketing the damage of war. The grand stone castle still crowned the city hill, but its doors were no longer barred. Instead, commoners and nobles and Fae–both full and partial–filtered in and out of the castle grounds, uniting the crown and the city. 

The continent was healing, and his wife had made it all possible. 

Speaking of…Aelin’s voice sounded in his mind. Is the castle really that bad, buzzard?

He grinned. I find my skills better suited to the physical act of rebuilding.

I know a physical act or two that could use your skills. 

I’m sure you do, Fireheart.

A surge of her love filled his mind. Where are you?

Near the western wall.

Solitary buzzard. He felt her bright laughter ripple through his blood, warming him through. I’ll be there in a moment.

And a few minutes later, she was there, her crown tipped sideways atop her messy hair. “Rowan.” 

“Fireheart.” He set the one last stone into place in the section of wall he was working on, turned, and pulled her against his chest, reveling in the trace of embers that always followed her. 

“You keep avoiding court when I need you,” Aelin teased. “Who else is going to scowl at the lords when they say something idiotic?” 

“I’m sure you can handle that,” he drawled. “You are the queen, Fireheart.” 

She chuckled and went quiet for a moment, gazing over the tumbled wall out into the evergreen hills. “I’ve been wondering, buzzard. Why ‘Fireheart?’ You can’t have known that’s what my parents called me when I was a child, even with all your centuries of knowledge.” Humor laced her last words. 

“Are you calling me old, love?” 

“Always.” She smirked. “Tell me, buzzard.” 

Rowan was silent for a long moment, working over the story, wondering how much he could say before someone inevitably interrupted the queen’s private time with her husband. “I met Rhoe and Evalin, once, many years ago. I remember Rhoe calling Evalin Fireheart.” 

Aelin stroked her thumb over the ruby of Rowan’s wedding band. “I never knew you met them.” I miss them, she murmured into his mind, muted grief shadowing her mind. 

“Just once.” Cupping his free hand under her chin, he tilted her face up and kissed her, soft and tender, a gesture of both love and comfort. “You are everything they dreamed Terrasen would be.” I’m entirely sure they’re smiling down on you from the afterlife, he added. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too, Fireheart.”

~~~

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #ft aelin's parents because i said so #canon au #except we kinda ignored canon oopsies

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

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

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

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

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which portraits?”

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

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

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

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

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

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

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to their beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They learned how to adapt.

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

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

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

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

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

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

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

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an old soul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was.

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

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you give him too much credit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The European one,” she elaborated.

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

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

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

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

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

 “Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

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

*******

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

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #tog #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelinscourt

[shadowhandss60]

“The body he’d turned into solid flame, so hot it had melted through the wyvern’s jaws, its throat, and he had passed through the beast’s mouth as if it were nothing but a cobweb.”

-Chapter 14, Kingdom of Ash

Commission by @gonzais_ on Instagram

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard edit #dorian havilliard fanart #dorian havilliard art #manorian #manon blackbeak #sjm universe #manon x dorian #sarah j maas #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #celaena sardothien #books #bookish art #fanart #throne of glass spoilers #throne of glass fanart #throne of glass edit

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 15

~ Meeting the Parents ~

Thank you for your patience. Get ready for some Awkward Rowan and some average editing because that's for people with better time management. Head to @rowaelinscourt for more Rowaelin month goodness,

The Sweetest Promise Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin was hesitant to admit it, but she might have a new friend. On the way home from the gala she had been sussing out Sweet As Sugar, just see what happened next after her first successful date. Checking the page linking her and Rowan’s profiles there were a few prompts that led her through the process. There were questions that related directly to her date: was payment on time, was the information given accurate, did anything happen in his company that was not within policy. All Aelin could do was give him a raving review—Rowan had been a perfect gentleman and followed all the rules. The last was a simple query for her. Would she like to see him again? 

That was one she had to think about. Yes, Rowan had done everything right but he had very clearly stated that he was after a one time thing. He just needed her company for the gala, that was it. There was no indication that he was after anything else. On the other hand, he seemed like a decent guy and was nice enough, if not socially awkward to an extent. Would there be any harm in saying yes? If he didn’t want to see her again, all he had to do was not contact her. If he did want to, the extra money wouldn’t hurt. So once again, Aelin took that plunge and tapped through the request. 

Rowan’s reply hadn’t come through until she had finished showering and she was so ready to fall into bed that she almost missed it. He had said yes. 

Since then they had been on three ‘dates’. All had been Rowan taking her out to a fancy dinner where they ate and chatted about surface level stuff. Just asking about each other’s day or the food. Rowan really was fitting into the mildest of Sugar Daddy boxes. If he wasn’t so handsome Aelin might have reconsidered. The relief she’d felt when Rowan hadn’t turned out to be old was off the scale. 

On the first date after the gala Aelin had explained her reasoning of why she had decided to give being a sugar baby a go. The conversation had been dragging and Aelin was looking for anything to bring it back up to speed. Of course, the first thing Aelin had done waking up the morning after the gala was to Google Rowan Whitethorn. Turned out he was some big hotshot corporate lawyer who had a cold and efficient reputation. He could throw down verbally in a courtroom, but couldn’t carry a conversation over dinner. So she explained how this stunt was supposed to support her through the rest of her university degree. Rowan commended her for her resourcefulness, and she still couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, and agreed on a weekly arrangement to keep her funds up. They’d even agreed on a pay rise now that Aelin was past the beginners stage. 

Although, tonight a message hadn’t come through today so Aelin started looking at other plans. She guessed he was busy and he’d request another meeting. There were night markets on in one of the larger parks in the city and she was determined to go. Aelin hadn’t found anyone to go with. She had thought of seeing if Kaltain wanted to go, but the chances of her being home on a Friday night were slim. Going by herself wasn’t that big of a deal. People watching was a hobby of hers. 

5 o’clock rolled around and Aelin decided it was time to get ready. She’d catch a tram into the city so she’d need to give herself time to get there. The weather was mild so she opted for jeans and a nice t-shirt, adding a light jacket for when the sun went down and the air got a bit cooler. She was going through the list of memes her friend Elide had sent her when another notification popped up on her screen. It was from Rowan, he wanted to see her tonight. 

He’d booked a table at some restaurant uptown, and Aelin literally tipped her head back and disappointment flooded her. Another stuffy restaurant? She’d rather not. The last two had allowed her to eat delicious food but she’d also been too frightened to raise her voice above a loud whisper lest she disturb the ambiance. Aelin had been looking forward to a casual evening out, where people were loud and they laughed. She was well within her rights to say no but she also wanted the money. 

There was an alternative and the worst that could happen was Rowan saying no. He was supplying the money, he had final say. Opening the chat Aelin didn’t hesitate before letting him know exactly what she wanted to do. 

>> Counter offer. I want to go to the food markets in Sandstone Park tonight. Want to do that instead?

It was no big deal, the markets would on tomorrow as well, so if Rowan wasn’t keen to change his plans that would be fine. They were on friendly enough terms that this wouldn’t be a huge drama. He did seem uptight enough that he would stick to his guns though. Thems were the breaks of Aelin’s new profession. That thought made her laugh. Being a sugar baby was by no means a career goal for her. It was currently a means to an end, nothing more. Aelin wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to do once she had finished her degree. She could become a concert pianist or maybe teaching was in her future. Whatever it was, she’d figure it out once her thesis was no longer rattling every brain cell she had inside her head. 

The phone in her hand pinged and Aelin looked down. 

<< That sounds great. 

Aelin gave an excited squeal, dancing on the spot. It seemed she was wrong about Mr Rowan Whitethorn, he may not be as uptight as she thought. It didn’t take long for her to finish getting ready, declining his offer of an Uber and walked down to the tram station around the block. After a few minutes one pulled up and Aelin crammed in with the rest of the passengers. 

The city had that end of week buzz where everyone was excited for the weekend. Aelin was undoubtedly going to spend a good chunk of her time working on her thesis, but she was looking forward to a brain break tonight. 

Aelin swayed with the movements of the tram, catching snippets of conversation around her. Doranelle was just like any other city, full of people and hustle and bustle. It made Aelin feel a little less out of place and despite the different buildings and climate if she closed her eyes it was almost like she was back in Orynth. Her bouts of homesickness never lasted long. Thank the gods for technology—her friends and family were just a phone call away. 

The tram announced her stop and Aelin darted out the doors. A few last glimmers of sunlight were reflecting off the windows of the higher buildings. It wouldn’t be long until the city went dark and the night took over. Sandstone Park was a short walk away and rounding a corner the markets came into Aelin’s view. There were a variety of tents and vans, some vendors just had tables. As she crossed the final road the smells of all the foods on offer wafted over on a breeze. Thanks to her benefactor she was no longer surviving on instant noodles and had plenty of snacks to keep her going. She wasn’t hungry, but still her stomach grumbled. 

She weaved her way through the crowds, glancing around at what was on offer. Even though she was sorely tempted, Aelin held off on making any purchases and decided to wait for her date. Fairy lights were hung up in low branches of a gigantic oak to create a dining area with numerous tables set up beneath it. She pulled out her phone from her pocket and sent off a quick message. 

>> I’m under the big, old oak

People came and went with plates of food while Aelin waited. She kept an eye out for Rowan, and before too long she spotted his silver-haired head weaving through the crowd. His overall handsomeness still made her pause. This man seemed to have it all, good looks, money, a stable job. She supposed the consequence for his success was the reason for their situation. Something just wasn’t quite there personality wise. Tonight he had forgone his usual suit and tie get up and had dressed down. Rowan wore dark chinos and a light sweater on top. It was… different, and not in a bad way. 

He glanced over the crowd, no doubt looking for her. When he was looking in Aelin’s direction she gave him a wave to catch his attention. Rowan saw her, and made his way over. 

“Good evening,” Aelin said cheerily when Rowan was close enough. 

“Hey. This is…” he paused to look around, “busy.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Aelin asked.

Rowan shrugged a shoulder. “It’s different.”

“Have you not been to one of these before?” 

“Years ago, I haven’t really had the chance recently,” Rowan explained. 

Aelin was too impatient to continue with the small talk, they could do that with plates of food in front of them. “Shall we?”

They did a loop of the stalls together, just commenting on potential food choices and not much else. Then Aelin suggested that they split up and meet back under the oak. She headed straight to the vendor with fried wild picked mushrooms, served with a flat bread, and then to another to pick up a fragrant rice dish. That was all rounded out with a box of chocolate truffle selections. Rowan was waiting for her, all the tables with chairs were taken so he’d claimed a standing one instead. 

“Are you on a budget tonight?” Aelin asked, eyeing his plate while she put hers next to it. All that was on it were a variety of meats on wooden sticks, plus a salad in a paper side bowl.

Rowan looked confused. “Why do you say that?”

“Just not much variety,” Aelin said. 

“This is all I wanted,” he said simply.

Aelin was too hungry and just left it at that. Despite what Rowan said, they shared everything. It was delicious, even the meat skewers. What kept Aelin entertained through dinner was asking Rowan questions. She had vowed to make a friend out of him, if this was the painful road to it, so be it. 

“Favourite colour?” Aelin asked, loading up a slice of bread with mushrooms. They’d already been over childhood pets, school experiences and the like. Rowan’s answers had all been succinct and to the point, no reason to fluff up his words. This was probably why he made such a good lawyer. 

“Green.” Then he turned it on her. “Yours?”

“Hmm,” Aelin did have to think for a moment. “For years I tried to convince myself it was blue, but I always came back around to red. Favourite food?”

Rowan laughed under his breath and shook his head. “You’re relentless.”

“I don’t see the harm in knowing each other better considering the situation. We can be friends, you know,” Aelin said.

“A friend who I pay to spend time with.”

The dry but slightly humoured way he said the words had Aelin choking on her mouthful with a sudden laugh. “Well, it sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“There’s absolutely no way to put it that it doesn’t sound bad, Celaena,” Rowan said, his mouth trying to fight a smile and failing. 

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” Aelin poked some of her food around the plate before she glanced up to throw the final blow. “I think you’re just lazy.”

At Rowan’s indignant noise, a wide grin was spreading across Aelin’s face. For a moment he looked at her with narrowed eyes but then that smile he had been fighting won. He was about to say something when he cut himself off.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling out his phone. “This should just take me a minute.”

Aelin left him to it, picking at what food was left. Rowan was just texting away so she decided to look around again. There were all kinds of people out tonight, couples, families, loud and obnoxious groups of friends. It was nice to get out every once and a while to see that despite being holed up in her room or corners of the library at the university, the world still went on. 

“Celaena?”

It was clear that Rowan had said that name more than once, and she hadn’t responded. She’d made it up to give herself some protection but it was increasingly seeming pointless and precarious. 

“Yes, sorry,” she said. 

“I was just going to ask if you wanted a drink,” Rowan explained.

“Oh, yes please.”

He nodded and then left. Aelin watched him go and contemplated a few things. Celaena had been a precaution, she hadn’t been keen to give random strangers on the internet her real name. But now, with how decent Rowan was, she wasn’t really seeing the point anymore. In the spirit of true friendship, that would be the first thing on her list she would rectify. Rowan came back a few minutes later, two cups in hand. 

“What’s this?” She asked as Rowan put a cup in front of her. 

“Old fashioned lemonade,” Rowan said just before taking a sip. 

The words were out of Aelin’s mouth before she could think better of it. “How old are you?”

“I’m 32,” Rowan supplied. “Does this lemonade mean I’m old?”

“Ah, well,” Aelin hedged. “I guess I was just expecting something else.” Maybe something a little stronger.

“How old did you think I was?” Rowan asked, leaning on the table. The gesture accentuated his broad shoulders. 

“Originally, old,” she laughed a little remembering how his blurred profile picture had done him no favours. “Very old. But not ancient, even if your social skills suggest otherwise.”

Rowan laughed, maybe one of the first true laughs she’d managed to weasel out of him. “You’re just being mean.”

Aelin laughed too. “It’s better you know that now.”

For a while they just stood there, basking in the mutual humour. Then Rowan said, “It’s meat on a stick, by the way.”

“What?” Aelin was entirely lost. 

“My favourite food, you asked.”

“Ohhh.” Aelin’s mind caught up with her. “Guess that explains dinner. Speaking of, I got dessert.”

Aelin opened the box of truffles but Rowan made no move to pick one. 

“I don’t mind which you take, just not that one,” she pointed to the one on the end. “That’s choc-hazelnut. That’s my favourite.”

“You can have all of them,” Rowan said. 

“Gods, are you allergic?” That was cause for some panic. 

Rowan just shook his head. “I just don’t like sweets.”

“You what?” Aelin had nearly yelled the words, drawing a few curious looks. When the insane man in front of her just shrugged she just shook her head. “And to think, I was going to share a secret with you.”

He gave her a look full of curiosity. “A secret?”

“I guess because you’ve paid I owe you something,” Aelin said, making sure to add enough flair to create some drama. “It may surprise you to know that my real name isn’t Celaena. It’s Aelin. I thought it safer to use a false name but since we are to be friends.”

There was an offer there, she hoped Rowan took it. 

“That’s smart,” Rowan said. “And as your friend, I thank you for telling me.”

Aelin took a sip of her lemonade, noting how tasty it actually was. “I may rescind my friendship due to the lack of sweets thing. That’s just unnatural.”

“I stand by what I said,” Rowan said. “Mean.”

Aelin was grinning, Rowan was too and she was about to start on path to at least making him try one when they were interrupted. 

There was a bright and cheerful, “Hello,” and Aelin was sure she had never seen dread take over a man so quickly.

~~~~~

This was what a heart attack felt like, Rowan was sure of it. He recognised that voice and he had no idea what ill luck he deserved for this to happen. Turning his head just a little, Rowan found his mother standing there, her hazel eyes reading far too much into the situation. Rowan knew what this looked like, but that was so far from the truth it wasn’t funny. 

“Mam,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Your father and I are on our way to see a show and we thought we’d take a walk through the park,” his mother said. 

Shit. His father was here too. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?” 

Every implication of that word came through loud and clear. She thought this was a date, it looked like a date. But it wasn’t, it really wasn’t.

“Cel—Aelin,” Rowan kicked himself over the stumbling. He couldn’t really be blamed; he'd just learned Aelin’s name less than five minutes ago. “This is my mother Iris.”

Rowan had watched the woman in front of him damn near charm the pants off an entire ballroom, and right now was no different. She smiled, something softer than the one she’d been wearing when she teased him all night, and extended her hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Aelin said. 

“Likewise,” Iris gave Rowan a sly smile. 

In that moment he had a sickening thought as to how well these women would get on. He’d never have a moment’s peace if they got started on him. 

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Aelin said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Rowan watched as his mother tracked Aelin as she left. He could only imagine the thoughts going through her head. The loudest of which he could almost hear, it had something to do with how beautiful the grandchildren would be. 

“Do you have something to tell me, son?” Iris asked. 

If that wasn’t a loaded question. “No. Aelin is just a friend.” Who I’m paying to spend time with because I’m a lonely bastard with awful social skills. 

“I see,” Iris said. It was clear she didn’t believe him. 

“Rowan. What a surprise,” a male voice said. 

“Hi, Dad.”

“Oh, Evander. You have to meet Rowan’s new friend,” Iris said as she hooked a hand on her husband’s elbow. 

“A friend?” Evander said, brows high. 

“Yes a friend,” Iris reiterated.

“Stop saying friend like that. You two need to calm down,” Rowan told them. “Aelin is just that.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Evander said.

Iris nodded. “She’s very pretty too. Beautiful. Rowan has good choice in his friends.”

“Hellas save me,” Rowan muttered under his breath. He did not need his family meddling in this situation. 

Aelin returned and he didn’t miss the way that his parents’ faces lit up. 

“Hello,” Aelin directed at Evander. “Dad, I’m assuming.”

“You’ve assumed right,” Evander said. “And you’re…”

“Aelin, this is Aelin,” Iris said, far too gleefully. 

For a millisecond Aelin looked confused, and then realisation lit up her face. Rowan felt like had the distinct feeling that he was in danger. Tonight had made it more than clear that Aelin was finding joy teasing him, gods knew what she’d be able to accomplish if left alone with his parents for five minutes. 

“How did you two meet?” His mother asked, no hesitation or shame. 

“Um,” Aelin said, and she couldn’t help but smile. “The circumstances were pretty interesting.”

Rowan needed to think of an answer, and fast. “Work event.”

Iris sighed. “Trust my son to be so concise.”

“Oh, so he’s like that with everyone?”

The women laughed at his expense and Rowan let it happen. It was better than the alternative. He would rather this old oak give up the ghost and fall on him than admit to being Aelin’s sugar daddy. There were a few reasons why he kept up the dates with Aelin, he hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted to keep helping her out. But the other side of it was that he enjoyed her company, and it was so easy to spend time with her. There were no expectations. And when she had mentioned being friends tonight he’d worked hard to not show just how eager he was for that. 

“I know you’d love to stay and chat,” Rowan cut in. “But don’t you have a show to get to?”

His father checked his watch. “I’m sorry to say, but Rowan’s right. Nice to meet you, Aelin. I hope we can meet again soon.”

“Have a good night,” Iris added. “Don’t have too much fun.”

The wink Iris gave the two of them suggested that they in fact have all the fun they wanted. 

“Bye,” Aelin said to the both of them. 

Rowan added his goodbyes and he breathed a sigh of relief when he and Aelin were left alone again. She immediately started laughing. 

“Dodged a bullet there.”

The chuckle that escaped Rowan was half nerves. “You can say that again.”

“Your parents seem lovely,” Aelin added once her laughing stopped. “Your mother seemed very excited. Like it’s been a while since you’ve been giving out this kind of attention.”

Aelin didn’t know how right she was. “You could say that.”

Rowan thought he was in for it, but surprisingly he was shown some mercy. 

“I guess we can save that discussion for another time,” Aelin said. Then she piled up their used plates. “So, what should we do next?”

They ended up at an art gallery not too far away from the markets, and they spent some time browsing the displays. They kept the chit-chat art focused and their evening together seemed to wind down on its own. Rowan did the gentlemanly thing and walked Aelin to the nearest tram station. They waited for the traffic to stop just across the road.

“Until next week then?” Aelin said, giving him a smile. 

Rowan nodded. “Until next week, Aelin.”

Her smile grew just a little wider when he said her name, and then she was waving at him as she crossed the road as the pedestrian light changed to green. Rowan gave a short wave back and watched until Aelin was out of sight. He tried to deny it, but next week couldn’t come soon enough.

~~~~~

One day soon I'll get the time to play with taglists again

#the sweetest promise #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin month 2023

[highladyofterrasen7]

People who are going on my suicide note- sjm edition

Please note that this is satire and I’m not going to kill myself

Also, it’s the entire alphabet

A. People who hate rhys for how many houses he has

B. People who undermine what Mor went through (especially the Eris part)

C. People who praise Nesta for how she acted in acotar, acofas, and the beginning of acosf primarily

D. People who say it’s misogynistic to dislike Elain

E. People who came up with the “gwyn is a lightsinger” theory bc they realised their favourite ship is sinking.

F. Anyone who talks bad about my girl Feyre

G. People who say Cassian is abusive

H. People who say Rhys drugged and sa’d feyre utm

I. Anyone who says anything good about tampon

J. Quinlar deniers

K. People who say Danika was a terrible friend

L. Anyone who says Aedion’s reaction for the aelin-Lysandra secret wasn’t justified

M. People who in the same breath as attack rhys and cassian for keeping the mating bond a secret will praise aelin for doing the same

N. People who say Dorian isn’t the best tog man

O. Full and 100% chaol stans

P. That one person that said rowaelin aren’t allowed to dislike Lorcan and wrote a whole paragraph about it

Q. People who think acosf was the best book in the series

R. People who dislike acofas

S. Anyone who says anything bad about Sam

T. Anyone who is anti inner circle

U. People who ship lucien and tampon

V. People who attack fanartists for depicting utm rhys as pale when he’s literally described as pale

W. People who say manorian shouldn’t get a novella

X. Those weird people with their Eris and Nyx things

Y. People who say feyre is boring now (bc she had a baby)

Z. Anyone who uses there every breath to attack and find plot holes in sjms work (if you don’t like it, don’t read it) get a life

These are very me-specific opinions

Lmk which ones you strongly agree with

#sarah j maas #acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn #cassian #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #elain archeron #the inner circle #gwyneth berdara #danika fendyr #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #chaol westfall #acofas #lucien vanserra #anti eris #mor acotar #morrigan #acosf

[nikethestatue]

I know that sometimes the people in this fandom can come up with the worst takes in existence, but I think if you have a considerable number of people questioning if a mated pair who have already had their HEA are going to remain together or break their bond, then maybe the writer hasn't done such a great job with their romance. No one could ever doubt that Feysand and Rowaelin (and also Quinlar imo, but I know not everyone agrees) are going to stay happily together forever, but Nessian? They're not a side couple like Elorcan or even Daynight, they had a whole 800 pages to themselves and yet I'm less sold on their romance than I was in ACOWAR. Maybe it's just me, but a man in a romance book with split loyalties who isn't willing to swing for his girls 100% is unattractive to me. If I have to read about Az appreciating Mor's beauty I might just gauge my eyes out, if he doesn't stand up to Rhys at least ONCE the book is over for me.

So here is what I think happened--I feel like large chunks of info are missing, because of the re-write. I feel like like there is information that was there, whole scenes, which SJM took out. I also think that the 7 million bonuses that we got were originally in the book. I think they were part of the first draft.

There is absolutely, 100% something missing from Cassian/Nesta interactions, because I think they were cut. That line in the Ember and Randall bonus, where Nesta looked at Cassian and then thought that he was the one she was disappointing the most--that screams a missing scene.

I won't be surprised if we get something in the next book, which will say that Cassian KNEW that she was giving the Mask to Bryce, and that he implored that she didn't do it, but then agreed with her in the end, and hence, the scene between all of them yelling at each other reads so weirdly.

Or he warned her not to do it, and she did it anyway, and was now feeling guilty.

It sucks but I have to chuck some of it to the awful editing of this book, and the fact that it was rewritten, carved up, stitched back together and we got a Frankenstein monster now.

I dont think that the bonus scenes were simply a money grab--I think SJM wanted to include them and build a fuller picture for all of these couples and interactions.

Like if we think about the Azriel bonus in ACOSF, it reads like a bonus, because it's not from Nesta's POV, she isn't even present, it's from a completely different POV, kind of random, dealing with things which have nothing to do with Nesta as the MC.

However, the Az/Nesta/Bryce bonus, for example, definitely feels like it was part of the book, and not as a bonus. It was very organic and within the rest of the overall scene, also dealing with what SJM originally promised--the differences and advances in Midgard vs Prythian.

Basically, what i am trying to say is that I am not taking HOFAS as any indicator for the Nessian relationship. I think it's just a cut up mess, and I think initially Cassian played a bigger role, which was thrown away.

I mean. let's remember, people also hated Quinlar and thought that Bryce would end up with Az.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Where Do We Stand?

A oneshot inside the Look At Us Now AU

Written for Rowaelin Month day 6: Rowaelin

This happens around a year and a half before where the current story starts! I wrote it for this event so it can be read even if you don’t know the AU 🫶

Also I wrote half of this in bed on my phone because I’m having a labyrinthitis crisis please be nice to me and my fic with very little editing

Warnings: mild (?) smut, language, a destroyed house, a toddler (Maisie’s on FIRE)

Word count: 3,8k

In and out. In and out.

Sam’s face was scrunched up in concentration, holding Aelin’s hip as he rode her.

It was not the best sex she’d ever had, but it was some sex, which was better than nothing.

He was panting. “How do you like that, babe?”

“Oh… yes. So good,” Aelin praised. Her chest felt a little tight as she not lied, but emphasized her enthusiasm. Sam was trying, but sex with him was… well, it was vanilla.

He fucked her gently, choked her weirdly, had thin moans, and spanked her a little too softly. At least she came every time. Even if it wasn’t mind-blowing, it was still a win.

Sam stopped when Aelin’s phone started ringing.

She grabbed it from his nightstand with one swift motion and—

Rowan.

Sam ground his teeth together. “Are you going to take it?”

“It could be anything from a lost toy to a house fire,” she explained while swiping to answer the phone.

“Hey. Are you busy?”

She quickly glanced at Sam, phone tightly clutched to her ear. “Kinda.”

She could hear his sigh from the other side of the phone. “Lorcan’s busy, and Sellene’s out of town—”

“Spill, Rowan.”

When he hurriedly told her what happened, Aelin’s only reaction was to tell him she’d be there in a few and hang up the phone.

Sam didn’t protest, but he didn’t look happy either. Aelin winced when he pulled out. Gods, she didn’t even remember he was still inside her.

“Is she alright?”

“Not a house fire, thank Mala.”

“Are you sure you need to go?” He asked with a cautious, uncertain tone.

Aelin sighed. “She’s a toddler, Sam. I can be needed for a lot of things that aren’t life-threatening.”

He nodded. “I could go with you. Be an extra set of hands.”

She suppressed a grimace. “In the middle of a toddler crisis?”

“You told me it wasn’t an emergency.”

Aelin knew what he was tiptoeing around, and she didn’t have time for this conversation again. The one about taking the next step in their relationship and introducing him to Maisie.

Sam was a good guy. He was kind, and had a stable career as a heart doctor. Everyone at the hospital liked him—including pediatric patients.

Aelin didn’t know why she balked every time Sam asked to become official. 

It was the next step for them. And Aelin wanted to take it, but she wouldn’t do it until that weird feeling on her chest eased when she considered it. She wouldn’t introduce anyone into Maisie’s life until being completely certain of it.

“Are you coming back after?” He whispered on her ear, hands on her hips after they got dressed.

“I don’t know. Probably not,” Aelin said, and she meant it.

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and hurried to Rowan’s place.

Earlier that day

It was a bit past 5 am when Rowan came to terms with the fact that Maisie would not fall asleep again.

His daughter’s last molar teeth were coming out, and he didn’t know if he felt more frustrated or relieved.

They were late, and Rowan didn’t know why. He searched online, talked about it with Aelin, took Maisie to the dentist, and the only answer we got was that he was supposed to wait.

Was it a vitamin thing? Lack of calcium? What would happen if she grew up without molar teeth? What if her teeth came out, but something was wrong with it? Couldn’t they check them with a X-ray? What if they wouldn’t come out until something else was fixed? Was this a sign of some bigger disease?

Rowan was almost losing his mind until Maisie’s gums got way too swollen to not be teething. He finally relaxed, getting this weight off his shoulders, until he remembered in the worst way the nightmare that teething was.

More specifically in her case, the irritability and sleepless nights that led to more irritability.

“I DON’T LIKE GIRLED CHEESE,” his daughter screamed at the top of her lungs, crying when he told her he’d make grilled cheese for breakfast.

Maisie loved grilled cheese.

Rowan returned the bread to its container and sighed.

“Cereal, then?”

“My tummy hurts.” She eyed him warily. “I need to go to the pool to feel better.”

Rowan forced the corners of his lips to not tug up. If Maisie sees him smile at this, she’d remember she has him wrapped around her little finger, and Rowan would lose his chance of bargaining with her.

“We can’t leave the house if you don’t eat breakfast, Mais.”

When his daughter’s lips started wobbling, Rowan knew he needed to think fast. He already had a headache from not sleeping, he’d do anything to avoid a tantrum now.

None of his offers worked, though. She trashed and screamed and cried, only stopping when he said he’d take her to the pool and buy her a popsicle there if she ate her breakfast.

After making Maisie’s grilled cheese and an unholy amount of coffee for himself, he called Lorcan.

“What,” his friend greeted, cheerful as ever.

“I’m taking Maisie to the pool. Wanna come with Charlie?”

Rowan and Lorcan weren’t the most talkative duo, but they hung out a lot because they were neighbors with kids around the same age. Well, they used to be friends before the kids too, but now it seemed like the only thing they talked about was potty training and tricks to minimize picky eating.

“Sorry man, we have a thing with Ellie’s parents. Next week?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He hung up the phone and made a mental note to pack more pool toys, since they were going alone this time.

“Daddy…”

Rowan turned to Maisie, rubbing his face to focus on her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I do like girled cheese.”

“That’s great, Mais.” He put a smile on, but it came out faint. Even the muscles on his face were feeling heavy.

The pool was actually a great idea. His goal was to get his daughter worked up so she’d feel tired enough to sleep the whole night through. He had no idea why he didn’t think of that before.

Rowan got the table closest to the children’s pool and bought her promised popsicle. She was eating it next to him when she saw a man with low stature pass by them, holding a girl’s hand.

“OH NO!” Maisie boomed and pointed, voice ringing. “That little girl only has a tiny little daddy!”

Rowan’s eyes widened, his blood rushing into his cheeks. Gods, he had no words for his daughter sometimes.

The man hurried his steps, not giving them a chance to apologize.

“Maisie Whitethorn,” he chastised, tone low and firm. “You cannot call other people tiny, you hear me?”

He regretted the way he’d said it the moment her eyes watered and she started weeping.

Rowan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He placed Maisie on his lap and hang his head low while he soothed her. He was so fucking tired. He didn’t mean to make her cry. Again.

Rowan stayed at the table when Maisie decided it was time to jump into the pool. Sellene once told him Aelin’s great at introducing herself to people so their daughter could make quick friends to play with, and watching Maisie play alone in the pool sent a pang through his chest.

Rowan wasn’t very sociable or charismatic, and he never missed those things either, except when it came to his daughter. Truth was, he didn’t even know how to do that. Should he introduce himself to the kids? That would be creepy. Ask the parents if his daughter could play? Better than the first option, but it sounded awkward.

Maisie seemed happy with the water toys, though. He’d do the awkward thing if she starts to look bored.

The head that rested on his hand began to feel a little too heavy, as much as his eyes. He could feel his eyelids closing, slowly—

Rowan jerked upright. What the fuck? He shouldn’t blink an eye while his daughter was surrounded by strangers like this.

He got up, splashed a handful of water from the pool on his face, and tried to keep himself awake by reading a book about potty training he bought yesterday. The worst part had gone by, but Maisie still struggled—

“DADDY!” His daughter called him, grinning.

Rowan smiled back. It was good to see his daughter this happy after the morning they had.

“What, Mais?”

She giggled before shouting, “MY POO IS SWIMMING!”

Following the direction she pointed, indeed, there was a blob of poop floating around the pool.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

In the blink of an eye, Rowan grabbed the plastic bag that came with the book he bought, jumped at the children’s pool and seized his daughter’s poop.

He held the plastic bag with one hand and Maisie’s with another while he went away, but his daughter would not leave the pool without a fight. As if the horrified looks from everyone weren’t enough. God, had they never seen a toddler being gross before?

“We’re leaving, Mais.”

“But why?” She whined.

“Come on.” He tugged at her hand.

Maisie whimpered. “Is it because of my poo?”

“Yes,” he gritted out.

She cried harder.

And on the way home. And when they were arriving home and she calmed down, they went back to square one because of fucking bath time.

“Why do I need a bath?”

Rowan took a deep breath. “Why do you think you need a bath?”

“NO!” His toddler shouted. “I DON’T WANNA THINK!”

He crouched so he’d be around Maisie’s height. “You need to shower because you went to the pool. And pooped in it.”

“I didn’t want to leave the pool!” She argued, lips wobbling while the first tears started to shed.

Rowan loved his daughter. So, so much. He would not snap at Maisie. He would not snap at Maisie. He took a deep breath.

“I know, honey, but we had to.”

“YOU’RE MEAN!” His daughter yelled. “I was happy, and you made all my happy feelings go kaboom!”

After many, many attempts of him trying to reason with a three-year-old, Rowan managed to give his daughter a shower. Maisie did cry because she wanted her mother and screamed bloody murder when it was time to rinse her hair, but they made it out alive.

Bath time had been an issue lately. Aelin liked to make a fucking show while bathing Maisie, with singing and stories and practically performing a puppet show with her toys, and their daughter loved it. The only problem was when she expected Rowan to do the same. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never get the voices or the story—or anything, really—right.

Lunch was as bad as the rest of the day. She cried because the meatballs were too big. Then she cried because she couldn’t cut them herself. So Rowan cut them for her, and she cried more because she decided she wanted the meatballs whole, not cut.

Rowan really wanted to call Aelin and ask her if Maisie was this moody yesterday too, but stopped himself. He didn’t have the mental strength to deal with Aelin Galathynius now.

And you know what? Fuck limited screen time. After lunch, Rowan turned the TV on a low-stimulating show, set Maisie on her little play mat with all the closest toys he could find and decided he’d rest on the couch until he felt like himself again.

He would do whatever the hell Maisie wanted now. Happy toddler means happy dad, and that would be enough for the rest of the day.

This children’s show… it’s really soothing, isn’t it? Rowan could feel his eyes dropping, his limbs relaxing…

Nope. No lying on the couch for him. Bad, bad idea. He got into a seating position and rolled his shoulders back. What was up with him today? Rowan was a drill instructor. He not only knew how to live under the hardest situations, he taught people how to do that.

If he survived the military, he could survive a toddler.

~~

Rowan jolted awake with his daughter’s screams.

He jumped from the couch and followed the sound of her voice, barely registering that his living room was completely covered in paint—floors, furniture, everything.

He entered the kitchen, immediately slipped on the unusually slippery tiles, and busted his hip. It was definitely going to bruise, but his focus now was sliding on the floor until he could get to Maisie.

His daughter was crying because she tried to climb on a drawer as if she were a house cat. And it obviously fell down with her weight.

He sat on the floor, hushing the little girl and repeating over and over that it’s okay.

He didn’t know if he was soothing Maisie or himself.

It was like a tornado had stormed through his kitchen.

The floor was a mix of soap, flour and cereal. Maisie had opened every singled bottom cabinet he owned and thrown its contents on the floor. She drew a sketch all over her face, and looked so dirty it looked like she had gone through an idiotic Youtube prank. And there also was the drawer she just broke, of course.

Rowan breathed in.

He would not scream at his daughter.

Breathed out.

He shouldn’t have slept.

Breathed in.

It was his fault. She was just a toddler.

Breathed out.

He would not scream at his daughter.

He didn’t want to ask her for help, but he needed someone to keep Maisie on a fucking leash so he could finish cleaning this mess today. Aelin was needed, even if her reaction would be somewhere between her shouting at him and… her shouting at him.

Rowan slowly, very slowly dialed her, resigned to his fate even before the shock passed.

“Hey,” he said when she picked up. “Are you busy?”

˜˜

Rowan was greeted with a loud cackle when Aelin came in. She immediately picked Maisie up and smacked their daughter with a kiss, not caring that it’d mess her clothes.

He looked around his trashed living room and sighed. “Don’t worry, the kitchen’s worse.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. You are so fucked, she mouthed when their daughter couldn’t see. “And what happened to your face?”

His phone was out of his pocket in a second, and Rowan groaned when he saw the sketch that had become his nose and cheeks. Very close to the dot on the nose and black lines on the cheeks that Maisie had on.

“Tigers!” The little girl giggled, pointing between her face and Rowan’s.

Aelin was trying to look serious now, but she still bumped her kid’s little nose, or the black paint in it. “You did a big mess, you know that, Maisy Daisy? Are you going to help your dad clean that up?”

Maisie frowned.

“Well, we need to,” Aelin continued, already walking into his house with Maisie in her arms to give her a bath. “If we don’t help your dad clean the kitchen, how are we going to have dinner?” She talked to her daughter until the bathroom door was closed, and Rowan couldn’t hear it anymore.

He resumed his work, thanking Mala that Maisie used the washable paint on the living room’s wooden floor. The back porch’s water hose was long enough to reach a bit of the kitchen, which would help him too.

The damage was done, now he just had to scrub. In fact, now that Aelin could look after Maisie, he felt a lot calmer about the situation.

Aelin. The light mood she was in surprised him, and Rowan hoped he hadn’t crashed her plans, given the light-blue sundress—

Rowan stopped, his jaw suddenly tight. The only thing that brought him back was the realization the water coming in a higher speed because he was squeezing the hose too much, making a bit of a mess.

He went back to work, but not without shaking off the fact that he had a good idea where she was at. With whom, actually.

Rowan couldn’t even ask her because he wasn’t supposed to know shit. Their deal was that they only needed to tell before the other introduced their partner to Maisie. But Aelin told Elide, who told Lorcan, who told Rowan about a month ago about this new boy toy of hers.

Just be prepared, Lorcan told him. And Rowan did. He prepared himself for days.

He paced around his house, thinking of the right questions to ask when the time came, and the right way to ask them. Sellene helped him find the guy’s social media. He seemed okay, but would be good enough for Maisie? He doubted it.

Rowan just knew he’d be a shitty step parent.

He posts Live, Laugh, Love Facebook captions. With the wrong capitalization. Is that the kind of example she wants to set for Maisie?

And Rowan wouldn’t even mention that horrendous yellow filter on his pictures.

Those were just facts. As someone who’s Maisie’s parent and close to nothing to Aelin, his opinion was completely unbiased.

He wanted Aelin to be happy. She was his child’s mother, of course he wanted her to be happy.

But not with Cortland.

When the girls came to the kitchen, Aelin decided to reorganize the cabinets and wash the food containers Maisie threw on the floor. They gave the little girl a cloth to wipe a thing or another, but making her ‘clean her own mess’ was more like a moral lesson than anything else. They couldn’t expect much cleaning from a three-year-old.

“You didn’t give your mom a hard time during bath time, right, Mais?”

“We played sumbarine!” The little girl giggled like she hadn’t turned bath time into a nightmare earlier today. Hell, she was lucky she was cute.

Aelin snorted. “She was fine.” A pause. “Rowan, I need to talk to you about something.”

Now?

Aelin was going to tell him about Cortland now?

His blood turned to ice, and Rowan’s stomach was rioting against her next words. He ignored it and swallowed down whatever that was, burying it as deep as he could. “Go on.”

“Rowan…” she sighed. “You don’t need to wait until after the worst was happened to ask me to come, you know?”

“No, I don’t.” He frowned, confused. What was she talking about?

Turning to him from the sink, she wiped her hands on her dress and rest her hip against the counter. “Look, I know we have the whole 50/50 schedule figured out, but the timetables aren’t that rigid even in the military.”

Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but Aelin lifted her finger, letting him know she wasn’t done.

“You didn’t sleep a wink the whole night, and you didn’t think of asking me too look after my own daughter while you take a break? Seriously?” She took a deep breath, calming herself, and ran a hand through her hair. “I swear to God, Rowan, you’ll call me literally anytime, except when you actually need me.”

His posture slumped, but he didn’t stop scrubbing. He’d get defensive any other day, but Rowan felt so fucking tired. He didn’t have anything in him to have this conversation now, so he opted for changing the subject.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Her posture relaxed, eyes slowly softening. “Yeah. I saved your—“

Aelin stopped herself before she could say an improper word in front of Maisie. But she did, indeed, save his sorry ass.

“You saved me,” he rephrased her thoughts in a proper way.

“You bet I did,” she quietly said around a small smile.

It took a long time to finish cleaning up, but sooner than he thought, thanks to Aelin. She spent half the time helping him, the other wrangling Maisie so she wouldn’t get in his way. It was exactly what he needed. Besides, something about having his house in perfect order was incredibly soothing. He was still exhausted, but scrubbing his kitchen clean with little to no disturbance helped him calm down.

Now the three of them were eating popcorn while watching a TV because it was the best they could do after this day.

Aelin tapped his shoulder from the other side of the couch.

After being awake the majority of last night, one morning at the pool, one trashed house and trying to interrupt a deep-cleaning session, Maisie Galathynius Whitethorn had finally fallen asleep.

The score was still four to one to teething, but at this exact moment, Rowan felt like he won.

Aelin picked Maisie up from the couch, but apparently her daughter’s sleep wasn’t that deep yet.

“No,” she protested. “More movies.”

Aelin chuckled and whispered, “We can’t watch another movie, Mais.”

Maisie’s head was falling to the side with drowsiness, but she was stubborn as ever. “Can I watch the same movie again?”

“No…” Aelin bumped the little girl’s nose. “But you’re a very smart cookie.”

Maisie frowned. “I’m not a cookie.”

She chuckled. “Sorry, kiddo.”

“Not a kiddo,” the little girl mumbled.

Aelin walked toward their daughter’s bedroom and Rowan sighed, relieved that she didn’t protest. This time.

“You’re not a cookie. You’re not a kiddo,” Aelin said on her way. “What are you, then?”

“I’m a Maisie.”

Rowan couldn’t see them, but he could still hear his daughter’s answer, spoken as softly as the kiss Aelin smacked on the little girl.

His whole body relaxed when he heard quiet footsteps coming back. It’s not like he didn’t want Maisie awake and here with them, he was just exhausted from the day. From the week, actually.

“Is she out?”

Aelin snorted. “Like the dead.” She looked around, not really knowing what do with herself and the weird silence that settled. “Don’t you wanna sleep some too? I can make myself scarce.”

Rowan’s body was, indeed, screaming for some rest. He didn’t know what happened when his mouth blurted the opposite thing.

”I was thinking about another movie.” He scratched the back of his head. “Preferably one that doesn’t involve ballerinas and talking animals.”

That seemed to perk Aelin’s interest up. “Like something with assassins?”

“Or spies.”

“Wars.”

“Blood.” He gave a pointed glance to the half-empty popcorn bowl. “And I can make more of these.”

“Good.” She grinned and sat back on the couch, turning the TV on. “I’ll find out what our options are.”

Aelin’s glaze darted back between Rowan and the bowl, silently telling him to rush with the popcorn.

God, how long did he stand there, staring at her?

That day kept getting weirder and weirder. Rowan didn’t want to complain more than he already did, though.

TAG LIST (let me know if you want in or out!)

@rowaelinscourt

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

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

[tomtenadia]

Hockey/ Figure skating AU snippet

Good morning all,

I have a late start at work today and I am writing a bit.

I have started a new Rowaelin which is a Hockey/ figure skating AU with Rowan as a single dad too (because yes, I love him as a dad).

I am not sure when I will start posting since I only have 5 chapters for now and far too many plot holes to fix, besides the plot itself that is still fighting me in some parts.

But... for now I just wanted to drop a snippet (it's from a draft and not edited...)

*

Rowan shook his legs and then started to skate trying to imitate the circle motions she did. He then skated backwards and tried to jump, lifting the leg as she did and then attempting to spin just like Aelin.

He landed on his arse and this time it was Aelin laughing at him and Rowan joined her in.

“It’s quite amusing, seeing a brute like you trying figure skating.”

Rowan pouted “hey, men figure skate too.”

“I know, but you really have no grace.”

Rowan flipped his hair “Next time I will try and dance to the net and pull a flip while scoring.”

Aelin giggled “please, and don’t forget your spandex.”

Their banter was interrupted by voices in the background. Aelin turned and saw two of her seniors entering the ice “I let you to your classes.” Rowan grabbed the net and was about to leave but Aelin stopped him.

“You might not be too bad.”

“See you tomorrow, princess.” And with a wink he left her.

*

I watched some videos on YouTube of hockey players trying to figure skate with the directions of pro figure skaters and it's hilarious. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ms2-KQd58gY watch this video.... it's soooooo fun!!

#wip

[sarahjswift]

A Terrible Day - Rowaelin Oneshot

I'm trying to expand my writing resume on this app, because all the wonderful creators I follow have these insanely long masterlists with links that lead to more links that lead to more links and it's everything I want to be XD

I wrote this in a frenzy of two hours, including breaks for running and to gulp down some iced tea and eat a slice of cheesecake :D

If you go to my masterlist(https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rNsQz959dwBibJ4ydmb6_0fixjSEBXBiVRKVoyd-tQ0/edit), you will see the fics I wrote for the 2023 Aelin Week. Most, if not all of my fics are in AUs but I thought I'd switch it up with a "what happened next" kind of fic, which is what I did for Aelin Week. Not saying I liked it more than my other AUs, but it was just cozy to write you know? ☺☺

If you'd like me to do more of these, let me know! It's a Oneshot for now but we'll see, I could just do short stories of their adventures inbetween my current projects!

This is the most NSFW thing I've ever written and I felt so guilty doing it - I kept glancing around like I had a bomb or something LMAO. It's not even that bad I don't think, but I COULDN'T DO IT *sobs*

How do you fanfic writers do it???

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, Smut

Summary: Aelin has a bad day and sweet sweet Rowan cheers her up (mostly just fluff)

Tag List <33: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @autumnbabylon, and @luell1q

enjoy dear readers!!

:3

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had had a terrible day.

Not like her usual bad days - where Fleetfoot had rubbed mud all over a new dress, or the bakery in Terrasen Square was closed (although she shuddered whenever she thought of those days) - but bad in the sense that she felt her chest constricting. Darrow hadn’t budged on the topic of Aelin’s passion project - a community garden for the citizens of Terrasen. A trivial want, yes, but it was close to Aelin’s heart. 

However, as Darrow had made extremely clear at their meeting; “A community garden is a complete waste of resources. We need to focus on rebuilding Terrasen before we have the time to worry about meaningless projects such as that.” 

Now Aelin was trudging down the hallway, melancholic. At least it’s the end of the week, she thought glumly. She had no more meetings, nothing to work on for the next three days. 

The queen reached her private corridor. Here lay her bedroom, personal library, and office(well, one of many). Aelin often felt guilt over the luxuries that she indulged here, but she couldn't help wanting to live in this area of the castle - her parents had as well, and she could sometimes hear the pitter-patter of her feet running down the hall, her giggles as she raced her father. Remembering these moments was a happy thing, but today it just made her more depressed.

Two guards monitored this corridor - Beor and Alys. Beor was a kind, shy man, and the only time he ever talked was to rave about his wife and two young daughters. Alys was a fierce woman who had clearly been through unimaginable things, which only became more apparent from the vicious scar slashed down the side of her face. She was strong and reminded Aelin of Nesryn. Aelin liked the two guards greatly, but she pitied them occasionally when she was reminded of what…sounds they were witness to, as they were stationed outside her bedroom door during the night. The morning after her birthday, Beor could barely look her in the eye without going beet red. 

Aelin nodded to them as she passed. “Majesty,” they both murmured, bowing briefly. She flashed them a quick smile, all she could muster, before retreating into her bedroom. She faced the door, locked it behind her, and burst into tears.

All the stress from the day caught up to her - Darrow, missing her parents, the strain of the crown. She slid to the floor, not even bothering to turn around as she cried, hugging herself. She prayed Alys and Beor couldn’t hear her, not as-

“Aelin?”

She froze when she heard that deep voice say her name. “Shit.” She knew who it was instantly, but turned around still to find her husband and mate, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. He stood there, his face full of concern for his wife, and the sight of it made Aelin sob harder. 

“Hey, hey,” Rowan soothed, advancing toward her in a split second. He held her close, sitting there on the floor with her, and Aelin turned fully toward him, clutching his shirt, crying into his neck. He was so strong, so steady that Aelin felt like she’d been drowning and now she’d found a lifevest. 

Rowan stroked her hair and rubbed her back simultaneously, patiently waiting as she cried it out. Finally, she scooted back, sniffling. “Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry.” Aelin couldn’t meet his eye as she wiped her cheeks, focusing on the floor. She probably looked like a mess. 

“Aelin.” He tilted her face up, piercing green eyes scanning her face. She only realized now he was tense, jaw clenched, filled with a mix of concern and anger that somebody had hurt her, something only a mate could feel. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, first of all,” she sighed. She smiled as he slumped with relief, but it faded as she recounted her day. “Darrow…Darrow is still very against the garden idea. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid. He sure thinks it is.”

“Wait, why is he against the garden?” Rowan frowned. “I love the idea.”

Aelin arched a brow. “I think you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not!” her mate protested. “It’s a great idea, Aelin. Darrow might not see it, but it could help those who were affected - ah, hell, let’s be frank. I think every being in the world has at least some trauma, and I really think the garden could help them. It could help them build something, trust in something.”

“Well, thank you, buzzard. That’s the idea, but it’s too silly to spend money on.” Aelin leaned back into her husband, who immediately encircled his arms around her. She ran her fingers down his muscled arms, pressing down slightly. She snickered as she felt him flex underneath her fingertips. “We need the money to be put toward the library, and just getting our bearings after the war.”

“I thought we were well off.”

“We are - our coffers run extremely deep. I don’t think we will have to worry about money ever again, thank Gods. But that’s us. Our money is different from Terrasen’s money.” 

“Hmm.” Aelin could almost feel Rowan frowning, thinking of something to help her problem. The thought warmed her heart and she tilted her head up, observing him. He is so beautiful, she thought. His bronze skin was smooth, his lashes long, his bone structure immaculate. But of course, she was drawn to his eyes. It was always his pine green eyes. They would always, always be her favorite asset of his. She ran her fingers lightly over his face, tracing it to memory like she’d done hundreds of times, like she’d do many more times. 

“Aelin,” he breathed. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He opened up to her and she kissed him deeply, threading her fingers through his hair to tug him to her. She felt his warm hands slip up her shirt and she broke the kiss, biting her lip as she watched him. Rowan leaned in and kissed down her neck. She gasped as she felt his tongue on her skin, digging her hands into his shoulders. 

She kissed him roughly, their lips falling into a rhythm, and she made to unbutton her shirt. “Wait,” Rowan murmured onto her lips, holding her hands firmly in his to still them. She broke away, confused and a little hurt. As if seeing the second emotion in her eyes, he kissed her on the lips quickly - or at least, he tried to make it quick, but Aelin followed his head with her own, prolonging the kiss. As her tongue brushed his, her mate groaned before pulling away again. 

“Why do you keep pulling away?” she panted, resting her forehead on his. Rowan released her hands to stroke her cheeks. She felt him breathe in her scent and smiled, knowing it comforted him as much as his did her.

“Well, for one I’m not taking you on the floor,” he started, chuckling when she smacked his arm. 

It’s not like it’s never been done before, she said to him, mind-to-mind. She felt him freeze and glance up at her smirking face. 

“You’re making this harder,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she snickered. He stared at her confused, before going red as he got the joke. She cackled for the first time today, standing up from the floor. She helped him get to his feet as well, laughing again as he winced and rubbed his back. Her buzzard, ever the old man.

“And two,” he glared at her, “I thought it would help you cheer up if we went to Finlas’s.”

Aelin squealed. Finlas, a kind old man, owned her favorite place to eat in Terrasen - Finlas’s. He served the most amazing dishes, not to mention their desserts. “Yes. Oh, Rowan, you’re the best!”

Rowan grinned, pleased with himself. “Well, let's go then.”

They got ready in a matter of minutes. As Rowan went to tell Alys and Beor, Aelin checked her reflection and groaned. Her face was red and puffy from crying. She splashed cold water on her face and frantically rubbed a jade green marble over her skin, something Lysandra had said would help with puffiness and bone structure. Luckily, it seemed to do the job. Dressed in the simple white shirt and black skin tight pants she’d worn all day, Aelin grabbed her bag and hurried to leave.

The mates walked out of the castle and towards the Square, hand in hand. It was a beautiful early summer evening, the sky darkening to pinks and purples, the humid air cooling to an ideal temperature. The spring flowers were giving way to green, every tree lush and bountiful. Aelin swelled with happiness as she looked around her kingdom, even more so as they reached the Square and saw people milling about, shopping and talking. 

They reached Finlas’s and Rowan hurried to open the door for her. Aelin smirked as she passed. “What a gentleman,” she teased, and Rowan rolled his eyes. To their delight, Finlas himself greeted them and led them to a booth in the back. The back of the establishment was clearly meant for couples, with its dimmer lighting and flickering candles on the tables. Each seat even had a red rose placed atop its plate. As they walked by, people stared and whispered to each other.

“Enjoy your meal,” Finlas said warmly, before bowing and hurrying off to greet the next customer. Aelin settled into the cushioned booth, watching her mate as he did the same. 

“What are you going to get?” Rowan asked. Aelin opened her mouth to respond before he interrupted. “Wait, no - let me guess. A medium-rare, absolutely massive steak with fried potatoes, and a fizzy drink?”

Aelin grinned. “Exactly. Great job, buzzard. Now let me guess; a curry that you will burn your tongue on like you do every single time, an iced tea and some bread?”

Rowan barked a laugh. “Exactly.”

They ordered just that, and enjoyed the meal. Aelin groaned improperly as she took her first bite of steak, sounding enough like another activity that Rowan shot her an annoyed look. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell if food or me gives you more pleasure,” he hissed across the table. 

“Can’t it be both?” Rowan was not pleased with that, and to Aelin’s delight her husband glared at her plate for the next ten minutes, as if it were another man who had stolen her away. 

They talked of their days and their plans for the next coming weeks. Rowan was working every day on the building of the library, which was coming along speedily, most likely thanks to his Fae strength and speed. He’d even begun to help with the design aspect of the building, something Aelin wholeheartedly trusted him with. “By this time next year, you will most likely be picking out books to stock the library with,” Rowan told her. A task Aelin was most excited for, and already planning to enlist Dorian with. 

Finlas brought them a huge chocolate cake free of charge. “Oh no, we couldn’t,” Aelin protested, reaching for her wallet. “It’s really to trouble at all-”

“Stop, Your Majesty,” Finlas said gently. “After what you’ve done for us - you deserve all the food in this restaurant for free.” At Aelin’s confusion, he explained; “I was a victim to a Valg raiding of my village. They took my son for their army, but…Your Majesty made sure he was safe. I have my son back now.” 

“That was all Yrene, not me,” she managed to say, overcome with grief for Finlas. 

Finlas shook his head. “No, Majesty. It was because of Lady Yrene, but you were the one who saved Lady Westfall, and then sent Lord Chaol to the Southern Continent to heal. Because of your kindness, you saved my son, no matter how distant the efforts were.” 

Aelin couldn’t see through the blur of tears, and gave Finlas a watery smile. “Thank you.”

__

They walked back to the castle, the sky even darker. Aelin smiled as she looked around, surrounded by people walking through the city. Laughter filled the air, the type of laughter she hadn’t heard in a while. She pulled Rowan into an alleyway abruptly, ignoring his yelp of surprise. 

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said to him. “My day was shit and now…you turned it into a happy day. You…you truly just know me so well. It still surprises me sometimes.” 

Rowan smiled down at her, his face soft and open in a way she knew it only was for her. “Anything for my Fireheart.” 

He bent his head and kissed her. She drew him down, opening the kiss. She felt him wrap a shield around them and glanced over, giggling when she saw him using his power to prop large slates of wood to separate their alley from the bustling town square. The noise disappeared, the only sound their ragged breaths. 

“I love you,” she breathed, tipping her head back as he pulled her shirt off. His nostrils flared as he took her in, gripping her waist, rubbing his thumb over her skin. 

“I love you too,” he gritted out, his eyes near black. He leaned forward and Aelin couldn’t help her loud moan as he went to work on her upper assets. She felt him huff a laugh onto her skin, and managed to pant out a; “What?”

“I made you moan louder than when you ate that steak,” he smirked, staring up at her with an expression of complete male satisfaction. She laughed, but went quiet as he claimed her mouth. 

Quickly they were both only in their lower undergarments, standing in their piles of clothes. Aelin shifted impatiently, waiting for him to take her against the brick, but he was examining the wall with concern. “What are you waiting for?” she begged.

“This seems...unsanitary,” he frowned. She whined, but he still wouldn’t move - at least, until she dragged her fingers down, down his stomach…

__

Later, he rolled off of her, both of them panting. After the alley, they’d dressed and hurried home before he took her twice more. She should give Beor and Alys a raise, honestly. 

Aelin sunk into the pillows, sleep already overtaking her. She was so glad they’d invested in this luxurious, massive bed. Rowan laid on top of her, his head on her heart, and Aelin’s arms encircled him, fingers toying with his hair. With her mate laying with her like this, the plush mattress beneath her, the soft blankets, and the feeling of happy exhaustion from the pleasure of before, she was in heaven. But just before sleep took her, her mate interrupted the peaceful silence. 

“Fireheart,” he whispered into the darkness, “did you have a good day?”

Aelin smiled down at her mate, knowing the male in her arms was the male she’d worship and adore for the rest of her days. “Yes, Buzzard. Yes I did.”

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #fanfic #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #little canon fluffs #adorable #rowaelin fanfic