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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

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OMG OMG OMG!!!!

she finally put two and two together 😂

Look at Us Now - ch. 27

Fic masterlist

Guys it’s 3 a.m. I’m posting my 1st draft and hoping for the best love y’all

Warnings: NSFW, Remelle and other bombs

Words: 3,7k

Aelin could kill Rowan right now, as he placed featherlight kisses on her shoulder.

“Go away,” she grumbled while burrowing herself further under the covers.

“Baby…” Rowan kissed her neck now, tugging her body into the hard lines of his. “You were the one who—“

“Don’t.” With graceless movements, she turned to be face-to-face with him. “You’re being a jerk right now, you know that?”

He chuckled, amusement crinkling his eyes. “I’m a jerk for doing as I’m told?”

“Alexa, what time is it?”

“It’s 4:48 a.m.,” Alexa replied.

Aelin readjusted the covers so the only thing visible was her glare.

Yes, it was technically her idea, but how dare he follow up with her plan. Sometimes 24 hours a day is not enough to raise a five-year-old, take care of yourself, work, and romance your partner—hence why last night, when Aelin was so tired her eyes felt glued together, she told Rowan to wake her up earlier to have sex.

Yes, they’ve struggled to find time for each other the last couple of weeks, but that does not excuse Rowan for agreeing to wake Aelin up before 5 a.m. He should know better.

She squeezed her eyes shut, his arms an okay weight around her—she was still mad—as Aelin tried to fall back asleep. And failed. She tossed and turned on bed, chasing her own sleep, to no avail.

“Fireheart,” Rowan said after she wiggled for the millionth time.

She hid her face on his chest and groaned. “I can’t sleep.”

“Does that mean we’re having sex?”

Her glare was answer enough.

A chuckle. “C’mere,” Rowan said, and combed his fingers through her hair, soothing her with gentle caresses.

Shit, those were always nice. She let out a satisfied sigh. “I love you.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“But I’ll love you again after 7, so I might as well say it now.”

A pleased hum. “I love you.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you.” Her jaw. “I love you.” Her neck.

Aelin shivered. “You better.”

“Is that so?” Rowan said before turning his pecks into an open-mouthed kiss.

Her breath hitched, and she he arched her neck further to him. Once Rowan had so easily ignited her desire in a way only he could, Aelin grasped the back of his head and said, “May I?”

“So polite,” he said with a satisfied smirk, so Aelin lifted Rowan’s T-shirt she wore and directed his mouth to her bare breast.

Without ceremony, he licked her tit and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, earning a moan from her.

“You alright, Ae?” The glint in his eyes said he liked it too much.

“A bit sensitive,” she rasped. “Must be gettin’ my period soon.”

Rowan hummed and slid his full hand up her other breast, gently squeezing her nipple between his knuckles as he did it, focused on Aelin’s needy reactions. “Not too much?”

“Go on.”

He did, with gentle caresses at first that easily evolved into rough massages and flicks of his tongue against her. Aelin was taken over by Rowan above her and the waves of pleasure he gave her, squirming under his touch to his delight.

When Aelin was certain she could die from this nipple play alone, Rowan moved down her body, hooked her legs over his shoulder, and licked a strip between her folds without ceremony. Aelin’s muffled groans intensified when he applied more pressure with his flat tongue to her clit, and by the time he teased her entrance with his finger, it became a full curse.

“You wanna wake our kid at 5, hun?” Rowan said with no small amount of amusement.

Shit. Not now, and not in the next few hours, if they were lucky. Aelin would combust soon, either from an orgasm or frustration if the first didn’t happen.

“That’s what I thought.” He pecked a freckle on her hipbone. “Be a good girl for me, will ya?”

Aelin nodded, and felt herself melt and tense at once from Rowan’s tongue back on her pussy.

He worked her with nice and slow strokes, applying just the right amount of pressure in all the right places—how his tongue fell against her clit, or his fingers on her hips—Rowan knew her body that well. Aelin was nothing but the embodiment of sweet surrender, letting him set the pace and meeting him with needy jolts of her hips and soft whimpers that tightened his hold on her.

“Fuck, Ro,” she pleaded. No matter how much she muffled them, the sounds of her pleasure still echoed through the room. “You eat me out so good, babe.”

“Quiet, love,” he whispered while moving to muffle her moans with his mouth, leaving his fingers to work her cunt—two inside, thumb on her clit.

She felt her own taste on his tongue, and all off a sudden it was too much. Too much of him, too much of how he made her feel, and her pleasure felt like dam about to burst.

“It’s—“ Aelin gasped, that building tension in her hips tighter each moment. “It’s your fault I’m loud.” Her breath hitched. “You know it is.”

“Fuck- I know.” His kiss was quick and rough this time. “I know, baby.”

Aelin’s orgasm came in a slow burst, carefully built by Rowan’s fingers. Her gut tightened, back arched, and she came undone with stifled noises under him.

Rowan watched it with the same kind of focus he always did, enthralled and a bit wrecked himself by the results of his work.

After the crash, he nestled her against his chest with such tenderness, it was a startling contrast to the version of him that usually manhandled her in bed.

Aelin sighed against his chest, feeling dozy. “Just you wait for me to fuck your brains out, Rowan Whitethorn.”

He shushed her. “Later.”

She hummed questioningly, eyes heavier each moment.

“You wanted to sleep,” he whispered before giving her a forehead kiss.

Oh. She’d forgotten about it halfway through his tit play, though it does feel nice, his hand in her hair like this, after an orgasm with the sun still out.

It kinda makes her body feel a bit heavier, especially the eyelids.

˜˜

Aelin might as well be sleeping still, now that she was currently hearing a famous phrase from some nightmares of hers.

“Mommy, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeeeease,” Maisie said, for the millionth time in the last half-hour.

Bringing the kid to do groceries was a lose-lose situation: Aelin was either denying her candy or foods with a cartoon character in the packaging while simultaneously avoiding a tantrum, or freaking out because where the hell did my kid run off to if she’s not harassing me for candy.

This was of the reasons why Aelin and Rowan preferred taking her to the big convenience store closest to their house—that was big enough to look like a mini supermarket—Maisie didn’t have much lengths to run off here; the other reason being the proximity and how much they dreaded Doranelle City’s traffic.

There was the downside of most certainly meeting someone from work since they were neighbors in one big military housing area, but you win some, you lose some.

Maisie was still giving her puppy eyes, one hand holding a pack of gummy bears, and a hand basket she picked at front with sly intentions in the other.

Squinting her eyes at this cunning little thing she birthed, Aelin picked the pack from Maisie’s hand. The little girl watched with blatant anticipation as her mom examined this specific request.

Fuck, the kid picked the good shit this time. Maybe if Aelin and Maisie shared… no.

“I don’t think so, Maisy Daisy,” she said with a kind of heartbreak her daughter wouldn’t understand.

The girl’s face fell. “But I said please!”

“I know, honey, you were very polite about it, but—” Because Aelin was really looking forward for those gummy bears too, an idea came up. “I’ll let you choose between this and the sour one.”

The little girl frowned at the candy already secured in her basket. Maisie didn’t exactly like this, but it was enough to make her weight her options and courses of action. Then, she tilted her chin up in a defiant manner and took the candy back from Aelin’s hand.

“Are you putting it back on the shelf?”

“I’m shopping with Daddy.”

Weird. She must be really upset with Aelin with make such a request. Maisie might not know how to read big words properly, but she was an expert already on what to ask each parent to get exactly what she wants—Aelin didn’t trust Rowan to deny his daughter a new dog or a trip to Disneyland, but a sugar overdose? There was a reason why their kid initially chose to stay close to Aelin’s cart, not her dad’s.

Still, she made sure Maisie put the gummy bears back where they belonged, then escorted her to Rowan’s cart.

“You’re done already?” he asked before placing a kiss on Aelin’s cheek.

“Nope, she’s just upset she doesn’t have pediatric diabetes yet.”

Rowan chuckled, gave Aelin a forehead kiss, and resumed his shopping.

She left them to it and ventured to the fruit aisle, wondering about how they’ve been doing two separate groceries for the same family, along with: twice the electricity bill, twice the cleaning chores and house maintenance, twice the streaming—those greedy little bitches—subscriptions.

But that’s how they’ve decided to do so far, so Aelin focused back on the fruit, making some mental math on how much she should buy for one day and a half—she’d be staying at Rowan’s for three days after that time, according to Maisie’s custody schedule, so the fruit would rotten before she got back.

Aelin eyed the bananas again—they were being sold in hands of six. There was absolutely no way the three of them would tackle six bananas in less than 48h. If they were together in one house, just one banana hand would suffice. The small bunch would feel like enough, and there’d be no need to separate the bananas.

Aelin could break it and leave the other half at Rowan’s place, yes, but she liked to keep the bananas together, the hand whole. As if it wasn’t enough that they’ve been separated from the tree before the bananas were mature enough to be a proper hand, now the bananas she had were to be broken into smaller pieces.

A little lump swelled on Aelin’s throat, and she looked up, taking a deep breath. She would not cry. Not here, not now. Not ever, if a banana was the subject of her tears.

“So.” A comfortable weight fell on her back. “Are we just staring at the bananas, or…?”

Aelin chuckled, hoping it didn’t come out too watery. She saw Maisie choosing yoghurts down the aisle and leaned her head again Rowan’s shoulder, finally able to quiet her mind once he was near.

“I wanna move in together.”

And just like that, Aelin popped that question at the fruit section of the convenience store. Peak romance.

“I don’t know, Fireheart.” Rowan let out his pre-sass sigh. “I think I’m too comfortable mowing two lawns and ironing my uniform twice because it got rumpled in my bag.”

Aelin chuckled. She squeezed his hand, he squeezed it back, and apparently the deal was sealed.

“Is that why you were… having a moment?”

Rowan knew better than to drop an ‘about to cry’. Neither of them were criers, and no matter how far they’ve come with therapy, Aelin was still very private about her crying.

“It was because of the bananas. Don’t ask.”

Following her order, he fished a familiar pack of gummy bears from inside his cart. “Someone hid this between my stuff. She’s trying to outsmart us, Ae.”

Aelin laughed and took the candy from his hand. “Her problem that she thinks she’s the only smart person in that house.”

“She won’t outsmart you, though—I hope. You’ve probably tried every trick in the book your entire childhood.”

Yes, though while Aelin had two gay uncles that fell into parenthood by accident and were permissive out of pity for losing her parents too young, Maisie had two living parents so intent on parenting her, they tore each other apart.

With a sigh that came from the weariest corners of her soul, she repeated that same old thing inside her head: one day, Maisie would be glad she didn’t develop pediatric diabetes at five years old—that day was not today.

They looked over at her, and she was still at the yoghurt section, sliding her index finger over the refrigerator’s glass door with intense concentration.

“You think she’s reading?”

Their baby was about to finish preschool. They were finding it hard to get used to Maisie trying to decode letters and syllables she finally understood, her little finger underlining words as if it was a requirement for reading.

“Yeah,” Rowan replied with an awed look. “Did you get everything?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Me too.” He looked over at where Maisie was again. “Do you think I should…?”

“Don’t interrupt her!” Aelin whisper-yelled. She waved the gummy bears at him. “I’m gonna put those back. Wait here.”

Aelin did as she told, taking some time to look at the women’s toiletries on sale before meeting Rowan again.

But maybe she took too much time, because when Aelin came back, there was a blonde woman clinging on Rowan’s forearm like a monkey to a banana tree. He looked uncomfortable,

There was something familiar about this woman, but Aelin couldn’t place it in the time she rushed to join them.

“Dr. Galathynius!” the woman said with faux enthusiasm at the same time Aelin recognized those cerulean blue eyes.

She stopped on her tracks, realization washing her over like a tsunami.

This was the skank she caught flirting with Rowan last year.

Also, one of the doctors from Air Force General. A dermatologist, why they rarely crossed paths—her department was so peaceful it felt like a whole different hospital.

Dr. Remelle Wiselheade could as well be part of the long-gone Doranellian nobility—it didn’t change the fact that she had her chickenish long fingers clawed around Rowan.

“Oh, hi.” Without faking enthusiasm, Aelin extracted Remelle’s hand from her man’s arm, but not without making the point of taking a look at the wedding band on her finger. “How’s your husband doing?”

Remelle didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes were between Rowan, Aelin and Maisie—who looked like a mix of them both. When the pieces fell into place in her mind, she widened her eyes in surprise with a poisonous smile. “I’m finally putting faces to the stories now! It’s hard to believe you’re the reason for all that fuss,” she told Aelin.

The story, meaning whatever people said about her past with Rowan, especially the context in which Maisie came to be. Aelin wasn’t ashamed of it, but the way Remelle brought it up made her want to claw the woman’s eyes out.

“We should go.” Rowan’s jaw was tight, and Aelin had to give it to him: he really did try hard to act polite when Maisie was near. Mala knew this wasn’t his best skill.

“Of course.” Remelle aimed a sly grin at Rowan and said, “Nice seeing you again.”

Rowan blinked, his mouth ajar. Aelin thought he had frozen for feeling annoyed or offended at the blatant flirting, but he tilted his head in pure confusion and said, “Have we met before?”

“Of course, silly!” She casually pointed her index finger at Aelin. “And I’ve been meaning to stop by at ortho! I’ve been getting some awful scar management cases from your post-op patients.”

“I’m so surprised to hear that,” Aelin replied, her jaw hurting from the fakest smile she’s ever wore—it was either that or clock the bitch in the face. The worst part was that she wasn’t sure if Remelle was lying to get under her skin, or if she was getting called out for the dumbasses from her department.

“Honestly, I don’t know what could’ve had happened. Maybe I didn’t double-check my resident’s sutures because I was distracted by the huge pimples on my patient’s face.”

Not a chance this would’ve happened, but Aelin still did a mental note to talk about this to her residents. Possibly with a scolding involved.

Remelle continued, “I don’t mean to tell you how to perform your surgeries, but—“

“You do surgee too?” Maisie asked, only now paying attention to the adults.

The woman frowned at the little girl, taken aback. “Well, no, but—“

“Uncle Orlon did a surgee too, he—“

“He didn’t do the surgery, honey, he—“ Aelin interrupted.

“He had a little bump sucked out of his butt!” Maisie shouted with newfound excitement after listening to the grown-up talk for so long.

Remelle was dead on her tracks, eyes widened with horror at the incredibly unpolished little girl.

“It’s true!” Maisie continued, flailing her arms around with big gestures because she thought the woman’s shock was out of doubt. “He had hemmy-roys! I know because I went to his house and he had a pillow with a hole in it, so I asked him, Uncle Orlon, why is your pillow so unfluffy? And he told me…”

Maisie went on and on, not caring about anyone’s sensibilities as she told Remelle about Orlon’s hemorrhoids in great detail. Fascinating subject for a five-year-old, or maybe just Aelin’s five-year-old. The woman looked frozen, but Aelin refused to believe it was disgust—Remelle might be a dermatologist, but she did go to med school after all. There was no way she was disgusted at a kid’s story about an elderly relative’s hemorrhoids.

“…And now he’s doing a lot better, but his husband has to put cream on his bum every day, and he needs to eat a lot of fruit so it doesn’t hurt when he poops.”

Remelle blinked. “I see.”

“And now we really have to go,” Rowan said. He couldn’t sound less apologetic. “Mais, wanna see how fast you can get to the cashier?”

“Race you!” She shouted and shot down the aisle.

Her parents quickly bid their farewells. Remelle just mumbled a goodbye, the same weirded-out look still on her face when they last saw her.

“Where’re my gummy bears?” Maisie asked at the checkout.

Mother and daughter stared at each other. Maisie knew those gummy bears she smuggled in her dad’s cart weren’t approved, and she knew her mother knew what she did. Aelin knew Maisie knew she knew. On the sidelines of the interaction, Rowan pretended he didn’t know what was going on.

Neither of the three dared say a word. The ride home was remarkably peaceful.

˜˜ “Rowan.” Aelin tried to sound stern, but she liked it too much when he was being playful like this.

In her kitchen, he held her hostage in his arms while she protested, saying she needed to put the groceries away. Her captor was unrelenting, kissing her neck and telling her he needed her now.

“We should meet halfway,” he conceded. “We put away just the fridge stuff and go to your room. How about that?”

However, they had already used most of Maisie’s very limited screen time to do this quickly at his house, putting away his groceries, then came to her place do the same thing. The kid’s TV show episode could end at any given moment, and Aelin better be done by the time it happens.

When she reminded him as much, his small whine was absolutely adorable.

Rowan was undeterred, though. “We live together now. Don’t I have a say in the house rules?”

No, but that brought a small smile to her lips. “Are you okay, though? With living together now.”

They hadn’t had much to talk about that, and she knew the logistics weren’t simple.

“I want everything, Aelin, and I want it for yesterday.” He shuddered out a long breath, and she tried not to read too much into how he tugged her closer from behind, encasing her in his embrace with one thumb brushing her lower belly. “But some of it is just me—stuff I didn’t get to do. Guilt. I’m still sorting that out. And I’m much more comfortable just following your pace, at least for now.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Aelin sighed. “We have a lot to talk about, but we really do need to put away these.”

He groaned, but picked up a plastic bag to help.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we sort things out, and the sooner we move in together.”

They worked together in silence, quickly tackling bag after bag so they could repeat the same thing in Rowan’s place.

“Fireheart?” Rowan handed her one bag. “I think this goes in your room.”

“Oh.” Aelin eyed the menstrual pads inside. “I found these on sale, they were such a steal!”

Amusement crinkled his eyes. “That’s great, babe.”

She always perked up when she found pads on sale, Aelin thought as she went to her room. She was terrible at tracking her own period, so she bought pads at random and had a stock ready whenever she needed them.

Aelin opened her ensuite’s cabinet door and—

Weird.

Her stock was nearly overflowing.

Weirdweirdweird. Aelin’s heartbeat shot up before she could properly process what was going on.

She didn’t keep good track of her period, but her pads and tampons always kept to a certain amount, but this… this looked almost as if Aelin hasn’t had her period for a while.

Weird.

Aelin took one step back. Another.

Naps with Fleetfoot. Crying over bananas. After-pizza sickness. Fuck.

Time slowed down and everything felt to physically distant—Aelin felt like she was suspended in a void, no solid footing as she walked to the kitchen where she left her things.

“Where’re you going?” Rowan asked when she had her purse and car keys in hands.

“I forgot to buy something.”

“Want some company?”

“No, I—“ Aelin closed her mouth. Smiled. “Just buying some vitamins,” she half-lied.

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

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still proud of that one ngl

What If?

This is being posted today because it is inspired from that moment in Queen Of Shadows, though since it doesn’t happen in Queen of Shadows, I’m not sure it fits in the prompts:

“I bet seeing Aelin was the first time he wondered if he’d sired a child with your mother. He probably still doesn’t have any idea,”

What if… Gavriel hadn’t been the only one to sire a child?

This is my first attempt at writing something funny, and I’m not sure I like it. But hey, trying new things is good! It might be deleted soon, though!

Warnings: None | Word Count: 3,000

Three loud knocks on the door woke Rowan up with a start. His wife was laying on his left arm, still knocked out from the sleeping tonic she drank yesterday. As an reflex, he grabbed one of the numerous knives they kept in their room.

One look at their environment told Rowan enough about their safety, and he let his body relax, replacing the knife between the bed frame and mattress. Aelin slightly moved, starting to wake up.

The sun was barely up. Usually her tonic helped her sleep at least three more hours, but he must have moved too much.

A tonic was the only way for her to have nights that weren’t clouded with nightmares so awful she had to cling to him for hours as she sobbed.

But she was fine. They were alive, and she was… doing her best. They were all doing their best, but his wife more than the others.

The person behind the door knocked again, and Rowan groaned from their bed, “What is it?”

He covered Aelin’s and his body with a white bedsheet, not enjoying the idea of anyone seeing his wife’s naked body. When Aedion appeared into the room, Rowan knew he hadn’t only blessed his own soul with this action, but his brother’s too.

Aedion winced at the sight of his sleepy cousin, and kept his voice quiet as he told Rowan, “Someone has arrived in front of the castle walls last night, they requested an audience with you. They are… waiting.”

Aelin groaned into his shoulders, fully awake now as she flushed her body with his, letting him feel every curve he loved on her body. “I’m the queen, I don’t take requests.”

“Oh, I feel like you’re going to want this audience,” Aedion said, too playfully for Rowan’s taste.

Aelin got up on an elbow, pressing the bedsheet to her chest. She must have sensed the same wickedness as he did from her cousin. And if there was anything Rowan had learned this past year about the Ashryvers, was that one should be scared of them at all times.

When they were angry, obviously. But even more when they were being playful. That was when trouble truly started.

A month. It had only been a month since they won the war, and Rowan had stupidly thought they would take a breath and relax, now. Apparently, the Ashryvers considered pranks as a part of letting go.

He couldn’t even resent them for it. Not after the ten years of suffering they lived through. Lysandra and he had a silent agreement to make no comments on it, only to appreciate that they were still capable of wanting to have fun.

She narrowed her eyes, “I am the Queen and this is my castle, I will do whatever I want, whenever I want. And if someone else bothers me during my sleep, I will burn their ass.”

If there was anything Rowan knew about his wife, it was how cranky she was waking up. And then, she had the audacity to call him grumpy.

“Playing all Dorian Havillard Senior already, cousin?” Aedion joked, laughing at his own joke. Neither Aelin’s or Rowan’s facial muscles moved at the joke, and Aedion’s smile slipped away as he mumbled, “Too soon for that, I suppose.”

“Just tell us what it is,” Rowan sighed, a hand loosely playing in Aelin’s hair which made her purr. If it made Aedion uncomfortable, it was even better. The sooner he left, the better.

He sighed, “You are not fun.”

“Good, I’m your king. I’m not here to be fun.”

He gaped, looking at Aelin, “Cousin! Tell your husband to not pull ranks with me, it makes me emotional and sensitive. You know, I’m a very se–”

“Aedion,” Aelin snapped.

He rolled his eyes but finally said, “Your old pal Vaughan is here, and he brought a surprise.”

—

“Happy to see your other birdy friend?” Aelin asked, walking down the hundreds of stairs separating their chambers from the rest of the castle. He rolled his eyes, ignoring his wife’s jab.

Why did she always have to resort to bird jokes?

“Damn,” she breathed. “Fell from the nest too early this morning, buzzard?”

“One more bird joke,” he threatened through his teeth. “And I won’t touch you for a week.” She raised an eyebrow, doubting his claim. He frowned, maybe it was a little bold. “Alright, for five days.”

She chuckled then, and he added, “For two days. And I’m not changing my threat again.”

“Oh, baby,” she said sweetly, those big doe eyes on him. He groaned, before saying, “One more bird joke, and I won’t touch you for twelve hours.”

“That’s more realistic,” she cheered for him before opening the throne room’s door, where Connall and his goddamn surprise were.

Rowan hadn’t thought he would see the man again. If it was him, he wouldn’t have shown up for centuries at least. But Rowan did have a record of running away in the forest and keeping people on their toes as to when they would see him again.

Waiting with his legs slightly parted and hands behind his back, one of Rowan’s oldest companions stood in front of one of the only paintings that had been saved in the war, one of Aelin between her two parents. Rowan had hung it in this room himself the day after her coronation.

He looked to the side and his trained features turned into a smile, and Rowan greeted his friend with a hug and a few claps on the back. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Vaughan,” Rowan nodded. He held a hand toward Aelin, “I know you two already met, but here’s a more formal introduction. Vaughan, this is Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, my queen, wife and mate.”

His eyes widened, “Mate?”

Rowan nodded as an answer, “It’s a long story.”

His wife snorted, “Not that long. Maeve was a bitch, end of the story!”

He winced, “I cannot say I don’t agree.”

“I hope not, or I’d burn your ass for it.”

Rowan frowned and looked at his wife, “What is it with you and burning asses today?”

She wiggled her fingers, “I don’t know, want to see?”

Vaughan barked a laugh before his wife turned her sharp glare on him. He swallowed back his amusement before looking away. He coughed, “I did hesitate before coming here. I fought you would actually burn my ass.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous, why would she—”

“Oh, because of that time you watched my husband getting whipped?” She asked, her words so opposite to the way she smiled. “Or that time you left me for dead?”

Vaughan winced and scratched the back of his head, “Sorts of.”

She waved it away, “Don’t worry. I’m not resentful.”

Rowan could not help his snort at that, and she turned her offended gaze on him. “Rowan!”

He winced, saying softly and with a smile to smoothen the hurt, “I’m sorry, Fireheart, but you kind of are.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, a frown.

“You are,” he answered on the same tone.

She shook her head, “I’m not.”

They were still whispering five minutes later, repeating the same words and their frown deepening when Vaughan coughed, reminding them of his presence.

“Oh, right,” Aelin said, “My cousin said you had a surprise?”

The corner of Vaughan’s lips tipped up, and he said, “Yeah, I do.” He whistled then, and Rowan looked around, waiting for something to happen. A frown appeared on Vaughan’s face before he whistled again, and again.

“We can just get you a room if you’re tired,” Aelin told him as if he was a mad man.

He frowned, “I’m not saying no to that, but I do have an actual surprise.”

“Sure,” she tried to smile at him, but it was so forced, Rowan had to press his lips together not to laugh.

“Goddamn,” Vaughan swore, without whistling another time.

The back door of their throne room opened, someone running out of it, playing with their belt buckle.

It was a child, or a teenager, who couldn’t be more than sixteen years old. Aelin’s hand grabbed his arm tightly, her long nails piercing his skin and he winced, trying to get his arm away from her vicious grip but there was nothing to do.

His wife was too strong.

She gasped, and he wondered why. The boy’s long hair hid his face as he jogged to Vaughan’s side, finally looking up when he came to a stop, fighting with his hair to free his face. He was breathless, hands on his hips as he tried to regulate his breathing. “S-sorry,” he said, his voice high. “I was taking a piss.”

Aelin chocked, “In the closet?”

He winced, “Sorry. It was like, super super urgent. No way to wait, or I would have pissed my pants, and we couldn’t have that.”

“Vaughan,” Rowan said. “What is that.” It was an order to answer.

The boy looked up at him, and his boyish features turned into surprise and then joy. He seemed familiar, though Rowan couldn’t truly pinpoint from where. The boy was demi-Fae, at least, from his pointed ears, though his features also looked human.

Too fast for Rowan to react, the boy jumped on him, wrapping his legs around his waist and hugging him close, too close. Rowan’s body was nothing more than a statue, too stunned to act.

But it was now that they were this close, close enough for Rowan to scent the boy, that it hit him, and his inside turned colder than his magic.

“Hi, dad!”

Dad.

DAD???

It was just then that Rowan pushed the boy away. It wasn’t hard enough for him to fall to the ground, and yet it’s exactly what he did, crashing onto the hardwood floor. He grunted louder than Rowan did when he got stabbed on the battlefield, and Rowan winced.

“Surprise,” Vaughan smiled, though it seemed forced.

“What the hell,” Aelin breathed. She nudged Rowan’s shoulder, “Help him get up!” She said softly enough for only him to hear.

Rowan winced. It had to be a dream because… He couldn’t have a child. He had been so careful his entire life during his encounter with females but… Big, green eyes and a scent of pine did not lie. Not for the Faes.

Rowan grabbed the boy’s hand and helped him get up, missing to send him to the floor again and he pulled him to his feet. “You alright?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry.” Well, he did look in great pain. Borderline crying kind of pain, but he did try to hide it. “Uncle Vaughan warned me you were a brute.”

Aelin barked a laugh as Rowan sent a death glare to his old friend. He would kill him, very, very slowly.

“I always tell him he’s a brute!” Aelin said, taking a step to stand beside Rowan.

The boy’s face lit up as he saw Aelin, “You must be my step-mom?”

It was Aelin’s turned to choke and look sick, and Rowan couldn’t help a smirk at that, which owed him a hit in the ribs by Aelin’s elbow.

And he was the brute?

“Shit!” The boy swore, slapping himself. Rowan winced at the dramatics. “I forgot you were a queen, shit, shit, shit,” and he got on his knees, face onto the floor.

What. The. Fuck.

“I’m so happy to meet you, your majesty,” the boy said, and his wife’s gaze turned on him.

What did you do? She snapped in his mind.

Please, help me, Fireheart.

She rolled her eyes and seemed to think that she always was the one dealing with the bullshit. He did have some examples as to why he should be the one to pity in their relationship. And Miss I Marry A Man To Give Him A Kingdom Because I Will Sacrifice Myself Again Whitethorn Ashryver Galathynius should remember all those instances.

“Get up,” Aelin said, taking the boy’s hands in hers and pulling him to his feet much more gracefully than Rowan did. He rolled his eyes; she was such a show-off. “None of that. You’re… family, apparently.”

And one second later, the boy wept, taking Aelin into his arms as he sobbed. She was too stunned to speak or act, and Rowan gaped at the scene while Vaughan laughed loudly, not a care in the world for decency. “I need Lorcan to see that,” the male said, and Rowan sent a gust of wind to knock him on his ass.

“I-I ha-haven’t h-had a family in years,” the boy sobbed.

His wife looked confused, but she tentatively tried to rub his back in comfort.

Buzzard, she snapped in his mind again. This is your shit, deal with it.

He shook his head, I’m scared.

So, battlefields are nice, but you’re scared of a boy?

Yes.

She rolled her eyes, asking the boy, “No mother, then?”

He shook his head pulling back and leaving a snot stain on Aelin’s shirt. As if things couldn’t be worse. She looked utterly disgusted as he said, “She died when I was ten, leaving behind only a riddle to know who my father was.”

Great, a dead parent’s story. Exactly what created the compassion in his wife’s eyes, “I’m so sorry, I know rough it is. You two enjoyed riddles?” She asked with an hopeful smile.

He shook his head, “No, it was the first time I played. And it was so, so hard,” he sighed in exhaustion. “The only thing she said was, your father is the Prince of Ice and Wind.”

Vaughan’s laugh only got louder, and the boy shook his head, “Your friend is very happy, dad, he kept laughing on the way here.”

“But that’s Rowan’s title,” Aelin said. “The Prince of Ice and Wind, it’s Rowan’s title.”

He just shrugged, “I don’t know. I spent the last five years asking everyone I crossed path with if they knew who my father was. Nobody did until I met Uncle Vaughan.”

“Scents don’t lie,” Vaughan said from his place on the floor, and when he tried to get up again, Rowan used his magic to push him back on the floor.

“Then, I heard you were in a war, so we started coming here, but I think we are late?”

“You think?” Rowan asked.

“Don’t look so doubtful dad, I’m sure I could have fought well!”

From the boy’s tiny muscles, Rowan doubted that. He’d be easier to beat than Aelin had been when they met, and she’d been train for years as an assassin. So, you do the math.

“I’m like you!” He said with a big smile. “We’re both hawks.”

Rowan blinked, “You can shift?”

He nodded, and Vaughan’s voice was still full of laughter as he said, “Show him what you can do, Asper.”

Asper.

So, the boy had a name. It wasn’t too ugly, he supposed.

The boy’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands, “You’ll see that, I’m so going to impress you.”

He rubbed his hands together and closed his eyes tightly, his face so full of concentration he looked ridiculous. Then, a flash of white and then… Rowan thought he might faint as both Aelin and Vaughan burst out laughing, his wife holding herself on him to stay on her feet.

“Aelin,” he breathed. “Please, wake me up.”

Amusement was still in her voice when she said, “I’m afraid it’s all real, buzzard. It seems like you’ve got some baby birds.”

He cursed in his mind, almost letting out a sob as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Asper’s bird form almost flew into the window, and in a hurry, he shifted back into Fae form, falling onto his arse.

He winced and looked up at Rowan, “I swear, I’m still working on the specifics. But at least we’re the same, right, dad?”

“A pigeon.” Was the only thing he said, still gaping a little bit.

He frowned, standing and rubbed his pants to clear away the dirt, “What?”

“You’re a pigeon, not a hawk.”

Asper frowned, “No, I’m pretty sure I’m a hawk. We don’t have mirrors in my village, but I do feel like a big hawk.”

Rowan was about to answer. It wasn’t about feeling, it was about goddamn reality. Rowan had nothing against pigeons, they were nice, he supposed. But they weren’t hawks.

“Asper,” Aelin interrupted. “You look tired, how about we get you a room, you let your… father have the day to wrap his head around it all, alright?”

“Sure! But, do you have actual toilets?”

“But, you just—”

“I know!” He said quickly, “It’s just, when I shift into my hawk form my bladder shirks a lot and—”

“You’re a pigeon,” Rowan said, storming out of the room. “Not a hawk, you’re a pigeon.”

••••••

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

Note

i was laughing so hard the whole chapter but the note at the end absolutely ENDED me

so ummmmm........will we be blessed with more of the booty-call dare????? asking for a friend (me) ❤️👀😍❤️👀👀

Leia, my love, there is NOTHING I wouldn’t write for you. Especially when I’m having this much fun heheheh

The Booty-Call Dare - part 2

Warnings: physical injury

Words: 1,6k

Rowan hung up his phone, confused and a little dizzy after Aelin’s call.

He barely paid any attention to the weight he was lifting in the bench press, that phone call took all the space in his mind.

In the years they’ve been friends, Rowan never, ever even dared to expect her to booty-call him. Not that he didn’t want it, of course.

It wasn’t news that Rowan had a crush on Aelin—who didn’t?

He grunted through the burning in his arms, it seemed like today was one of those rare days in which gym failed to empty his brain.

And then something dawned on him, like he was finally able to see through the mist: Aelin had just scheduled what sounded very explicitly like a hookup, about 58 minutes from now. For whatever reason, out of all the hang outs they had, tonight she needed him naked—in her own words, to ‘bang’.

In the few times he dared to entertain the thought of something romantic happening between them, Rowan never thought she’d just call him and very bluntly—

Wait, what the fuck was he still doing here at the gym?

At the exact same moment realization hit, Rowan lost his grip on the weight and watched as it crashed on his chest.

At first he winced at the sudden crushing feeling, but quickly rolled the barbell off his torso. Rowan had no time to be in pain—he needed to get his ass home and get rid of this post-gym horrid smell for Aelin.

Rowan only noticed the two gym bros that ran to help him when they were already pulling the weight off him. He showed his appreciation in brief words—he had somewhere to go, after all.

“Dude, you okay?” one of the guys asked, brows furrowed in concern as he watched Rowan get up and leave.

He would be in about 57 minutes.

˜˜

The following hour was a blur. One quarter of it was the longest shower of his life, but between driving home, cleaning the apartment, changing his bedsheets and getting the wine ready, Rowan barely had time to look at himself in the mirror before Aelin got there.

She didn’t say anything at first, just looked at him with a small smirk from under her lashes in a way that made his brain short-circuit. In a red wrap dress with her natural hair falling in gentle waves over her shoulders, she looked like present from the gods, wrapped just for him. She took a small step forward, hesitantly watching him, and that’s when Rowan lost his patience.

He gently pulled her face to his, one hand on her cheek and another on her neck, and watched it as her eyes slowly closed, her mouth soft and ready for him. When their lips touched—shit, feeling her pillowy lips was almost too much, and so far from that he used to imagine.

Aelin brushed her hands over his chest to his shoulder without breaking them apart, which made him stiffen, but he roughened up the kiss so she wouldn’t notice. Whatever happened at the gym, he could brush aside for a few hours. Rowan could die tomorrow, but he was still fucking Aelin tonight.

But then she put both hands on his chest again and literally pushed him inside the house, which brought a sharp burst of pain. He masked his flinch by turning around to lock the house, but it was enough to buy him time. One not-so-deep breath, one good wince and he turned back around to her, ready to go.

“Hi,” she said in a suggestive tone he’d never heard before—maybe he heard another girl use it, but never so perfect, so Aelin.

“Hey, yourself,” Rowan whispered, tugging her hair behind her ear.

Aelin’s hand went from her hair to the ends of his shoulders, and instead of basking on the motion, he went rigid, too worried she might slide her hands over his chest again.

She stopped almost immediately, her head tilting in confusion. “You good?”

“Perfect.” Rowan leaned to kiss her again, but stopped halfway. “You good?”

“Perfect.” Aelin gave him an intimate, radiant smile and resumed their kiss.

She tugged him by the neck, leaning her back against the wall and bringing him with her. This kiss felt more heated, it felt like something shifted as Rowan bit her lip and Aelin pulled the short strands of his hair, as if that torturous hunger for each other alone made the world stop.

She took the air out of his lungs in a way that made it physically impossible to breathe, and that’s how perfect his Fireheart felt tonight.

While sucking the skin of his neck, she fumbled with the buttons of his short-sleeved shirt and gaped when it was wide open.

“Rowan, your chest—“

“I know,” he said and kissed her again. Rowan took good care of his body, he wasn’t shy about it.

“No, that’s not…” Aelin pushed him back gently this time and stared into his chest with widened eyes.

He looked down to find that an explosion of red and purple adorned his chest, in a shape that resembled the barbell that fell on him an hour ago.

“This looks like some fighting pit shit,” Aelin murmured, then looked straight into his eyes and snapped, “You’re not fucking around with that, are you?”

Because of her visible distress, Rowan told her a cleaner, less horny version of his story.

“A weight—what weight?” Aelin sized the bruise across his chest and asked, “That one you do with two hands? How heavy was it?”

“Heavy.” Giving her the real answer wouldn’t help on his case.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut and her shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh, as if whatever she was considering pained her.

“Put your shirt back on.”

“I— what?”

She picked his shirt from the floor and stood behind him to help him get dressed. “Try not to move your torso, just—“ Rowan thrust his arms out behind him to aid her, but it only made her curse under her breath and urge him to be careful.

˜˜

The prospect of fucking Aelin must’ve worked like an adrenaline shot, because once it was off the table, his ribs started hurting like a bitch. The doctor put him on painkillers now, which turned excruciating pain into a discomfort of sorts.

Trapped in this ER—more precisely, between one wall and three sides of the privacy curtain the nurse had closed—Rowan was glad he had Aelin to look at. She only left his side when absolutely required to, during his X-Ray, and now waited for the results with him, on a chair while he sat on a hospital bed, naked from the waist up.

They didn’t talk much, not if he excluded the amount of times she called him an idiot for dropping that weight; in fact, the last real conversation they had was that godsdamned phone call. Apart from holding his hand and some casual touches here and there, Rowan had no idea where he stood with her anymore. Every look she gave him was a kaleidoscope of worry and appreciation and something else he couldn’t pinpoint, it was absolutely nerve-wrecking now that his mental energy wasn’t channeled into his own physical pain.

Rowan cleared his throat. “About our phone call.”

“What about it?”

He looked down at that bruise that looked worse by the minute. “I’m pretty sure this thing is gonna compromise my performance tonight.”

Aelin blinked, her face morphing in a way that ‘disbelief’ didn’t sound enough to what she seemed to feel.

“Rowan, you’re injured. There won’t be a performance at all.”

Shit. He suspected that might happen, but he didn’t anticipate this crumpling weight on his chest when the answer finally came.

He had one chance, one job to do. And he fucking ruined it.

“I’m sorry. I know I won’t be able to do that in a way you deserve and…” Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think of a way to screw this up less than he already did. “Do you think we can at least salvage the friendship?”

Aelin tilted her head, a silent sign that she lost him.

Feeling his cheeks heat, Rowan explained, “You have… urges that I can’t meet in the timeframe you need me to.”

“What? No!” She straightened in her seat and kept strong eye contact as she said, “I booty-called you. It’s a sacred rite in modern society, I can’t un-booty-call you now.

Rowan was about to put his own desire aside and call out that insane logic when the sound of Dr. Towers opening their privacy curtain interrupted the conversation.

Black sheet against luminous board, two imperceptible stripes disturbing the transparent that symbolized his bones meant that he was fucked. Two broken bones, two women glaring at him in that curtained cubicle; Dr. Towers had a bland, teacher-like sort of death stare, but he avoided meeting Aelin’s—especially when the doctor warned that his tiny fracture could’ve been much worse, given the amount of weight he lifted.

“I want you in bed for a week, in the very least. The pain you feel will tell a lot of what to do and when, but no strenuous activities for the next six weeks.”

Aelin raised her hand to ask, “What about strenuous activities in bed?”

“Well, that depends on how strenuous this activity is,” the doctor said, struggling not to laugh. “Let’s give it two to three weeks if you go easy on him.”

Dr. Towers put too much faith in him. Rowan would easily break two more ribs just to fuck Aelin tonight.

A/N: 🕊️ goodbye goodbye goodbye their fuckfest was bigger than the whole sky 🕊️

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

Text

just spent an hour on google docs writing and you can only blame this tiktok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGegJaxAV/

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

Text

she’s so obsessed with denial but she avoid the truth, like the plague!!!

Look at Us Now - ch. 26

Fic masterlist

Did I just rearrange my outline to add a filler chapter inspired by this incredible art by @sassyhobbits? Yes, yes I did.

Warnings: disgustingly lovesick Lorcan

Words: 2,3k

Aelin had only realized she’d taken a nap when she woke up from it. Not that it was a big surprise, given how shitty she was feeling today, but she still woke up feeling a little lost.

At the exact same time, she noticed the lack of light leaking through the curtains and two deep voices coming from the living room.

Salvaterre was still here.

Elide left for a conference two days ago, and suddenly Lorcan was everywhere. The man said Charlie could use a playdate with Maisie because he missed his mom, but he couldn’t fool anyone with that lost puppy aura he exhaled whenever his wife wasn’t within a 10-meter radius.

Aelin groaned, blindly searching for her phone on Rowan’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there to cuddle her while she woke up from her nap, and it was on Lorcan—no, not because Aelin and Rowan were both busy adults responsible for an unruly child, it was truly all Lorcan’s fault.

She opened DAFriends and Dorian, the gang’s groupchat named by Fenrys after one of his many jokes about his partner being the only one that never served in the Doranellian Air Force.

Aelin: Elide

Aelin: Please come pick your child

Aedion: oh no

Aedion: whatever charlie did

Aedion: my bets are on maisie tricking him into it

Aelin: i meant lorcan.

Lorcan: Fuck you.

Elide: I wish I could [tired emoji]

Aelin put her phone down, wrapped the baby blue microfiber blanket around herself and left for the living room. However, an odd sight made her stop, peering from the hallway to further study the scene before her.

Maisie, Charlie, Lorcan and Rowan were gathered on the floor, around the short coffee table—the kids elegantly sat, and both men hunched around it; the table’s usual decoration was exchanged for a baby pink tablecloth, accompanied by milk, cookies, and plastic tableware. Both kids had light makeup and toy accessories on, from candy rings to princess pretend jewelry, but the dads were the real showstopper.

Watching oh-so-stoic Rowan dressed up for whatever Maisie made him play along, beaded necklaces and all, wasn’t a rare sight, even if it would be forever amusing.

But Lorcan?

Major Salvaterre, a commanding officer capable of making military men cry, had just been caught at a princess tea party, being warned by his son to not ruin the makeup as he ate, while wearing a plastic crown and a pink feather boa.

And the icing on the cake was that Aelin couldn’t even be mad that the kids took her incredibly expensive makeup without her permission, because they absentmindedly made their dads look like horror movie dolls.

“Charles,” Maisie called in a voice that was likely an attempt to sound serious and sophisticated, but that was not the main concern here. Who the fuck was Charles? Her friend’s name was just Charlie.

She continued, “Why did the T-Rex walk on the side of the road?”

The boy tilted his head with a grave expression. “Why?”

“Because of cars, of course.”

Charlie tilted his head back in a strong and slightly forced way; it might not be his intention, but he sounded like a cartoon villain laughing. Then, “Very funny, Maisianne.”

Rowan straightened his posture and added, “I found it highly amusing, Maisy Daisy.”

Lorcan nodded. “Very important for T-Rex safety.”

He looked at Rowan, who easily met his gaze. Whatever the men were thinking, their exchange was indecipherable, somewhere between amusement and embarrassment and resignation and whatnot.

Whatever they were feeling, Aelin knew they’d never bring this up again—thank Mala she saw it, then. And took a picture.

She stepped into the living room to make her presence known.

“Purple eyeshadow suits you, Salvaterre.”

“Glad I pulled it off, Lieutenant.” He looked at her up and down with complete indifference. “I’d say the same, but I think the kids put it in under your eyes instead.”

Bastard.

It was like something clicked inside Rowan’s head, and he immediately looked up to assess her. “You’re felling better, honey?”

“Kind of.” She sat on the couch with her legs crossed, still wrapped on her blanket. “I want pepperoni pizza.”

The kids cheered and the men silently consented, but even if they protested, it was three against two now. Pizza won, always.

Fleetfoot settled on the couch with her and the others resumed their tea party, but Lorcan wouldn’t stop checking his phone. It’d be silly to even wonder whose reply he was waiting for.

Aelin teased, “You’re the first man ever to get abandoned during a pregnancy. I wonder why.”

Lorcan averted his eyes from the phone, sending a thunderous look that never worked on her. “I’m trying to look after my pregnant partner, not that you’d understand.”

“You’re right. I’ll make sure to apologize when I knock Rowan up.”

Rowan’s reaction was nothing more than a short guttural sound, as he made sure that snicker died halfway on his throat and looked down with clamped lips, trying not to upset his friend further.

Aelin could assume Lorcan’s agony was kinda cute, but that hovering would leave her insane if she was in Elide’s shoes. Yes, the woman was pregnant, but Lorcan’s incredibly smart and healthy wife wasn’t in real danger during a medical conference, surrounded by other doctors.

Maisie cut in with, “Uncle Lorcan, Mom said you’re getting a boy.” Maisie looked between him and Charlie with a wrinkled nose. “Why are you always planting boys on Auntie Ellie?”

Aelin’s eyes went wide. “Maisie, he can’t choose that!”

“Yes, he can!” The little girl huffed. “Like how Daddy picks if he’s planting a kingsflower or a daisy—when he plants the seed in your belly again, I want him to plant another girl.”

“Honey, you can’t choose if—“

“I don’t wanna live with a boy!”

“Ouch,” Rowan said, clutching his pearls—beaded necklaces, in that case.

Aelin sighed. “That babies and gardening thing we told you was more like a metaphor, love.”

Maisie frowned. “A meteor?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the pizza delivery guy’s arrival, and Aelin couldn’t be more relieved. She’d take any chance to escape some of her daughter’s questions.

The pizza box was placed at the tea party table where the milk and cookies used to be, but the dads’ excitement to eat was interrupted by a horror-filled silence.

Lorcan tilted his head, trying to understand what was placed in front of him. “Is that…?”

“Pepperoni,” Aelin said, grinning like the devil. “With a Nutella stuffed crust.”

She rolled the rest of the pizza around its crust, making a bulky roll out of the slice, and put as much as she could into her mouth. The pepperoni’s spice clashed directly with the Nutella’s sweet hazelnut, the cheese balancing both with that mild texture. Along with it, she got one of Maisie’s grape juice boxes for herself.

Fucking perfect. Aelin leaned back on the couch, eyes briefly falling closed with bliss.

When she opened them back up, it was to meet Lorcan’s horrified gaze—which was slowly aimed at Rowan, who just shrugged and cut the chocolate off his slice.

He waved it at Aelin. “Want my crust, babe?”

“Me!” Maisie said, making a grabbing gesture.

Rowan obliged, then jutted his chin towards his girlfriend. “Next one’s yours.”

Good. A Nutella stuffed crust would go wasted with a chocolate hater like him.

But something must’ve gone wrong because, soon after Aelin ate her three slices plus two crusts given by Rowan, it seemed like that food wasn’t settling well in her stomach.

That little discomfort burned more by the minute, so Aelin pressed one of the couch’s pillows against her stomach, her teeth ground together. The food threatened to revolt and come back up, making her wince, which didn’t go unnoticed by Rowan.

Her boyfriend was by her side in a second, assessing every sign of distress. “What’s going on?”

She nodded. “Just a little indigestion, I—“

Maisie stood on her mother’s other side, wide green eyes cautiously assessing her. “Mommy, you okay?”

Aelin pushed the pain aside to give her daughter a nod and a grin. “Perfect. I can do it with a tummy ache.”

She excused herself to leave for the bathroom and sat on the floor, next to the toilet just in case. Her stomach felt like a boiling cauldron of corrosive acid that was about to eat her whole, and Aelin was taking deep breaths, stars bursting behind her eyelids as cold sweat broke out on her skin.

Aelin didn’t know how long it’d been when two knocks on the door caught her attention. To her surprise, it was Lorcan, holding out a yellow-ish glass of water.

She eyed it suspiciously, but took it. “This water isn’t crystal clear.” Aelin held it up against the light and squinted an eye at it. “This isn’t poisoned, right? You sure you’re not trying to finish the job?”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “It’s ginger water. It helped Elide with the…” he trailed with a sudden inquisitive look, “nausea stuff.”

He walked out of the toilet as quickly as he entered, but Aelin could still hear him say, “I hope you didn’t knock her up, man, because there’s still time to bail.”

“Shut your mouth, you twerp!” Aelin shouted from the bathroom, the kid-appropriate insults easily rolling off her tongue.

That wasn’t her preferred choice of drink, but Aelin felt like she didn’t have much of a choice now. She gulped what she deemed enough, then a little more when Rowan walked inside to check on her.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked while sitting beside her on the floor.

She shrugged. “It’s manageable.”

He slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on a tiny crack on the bathroom tile. Aelin gave him space to process his thoughts, knowing it was a matter of time before he said, “About what Lorcan said before…” A frown. “You’re not, right?”

Knocked up, he meant.

“I’m not, baby,” she replied with a small smile, because it was such Rowan thing to fret over one single nausea episode.

He hummed and scooted close enough to wrap one arm around Aelin. “I know we’re working on our timing, but I wouldn’t mind it, you know? If you were…”

“Yeah, me too. It’d be good news.” Aelin nuzzled where his chest met his shoulder, both still sat on the bathroom floor.

“Incredible news.” He pecked her head, and Aelin knew there was still something brewing in that mind of his. A moment later, he continued, “How did you know it with Maisie? Not how did you find out, but like, what gave it away?”

“Nothing. I found out because of an exam. It was pretty random, actually—I didn’t even believe it at first.”

Rowan jerked upwards, his pine-green eyes wide as saucers and fully aimed at her. “Nothing? You had absolutely no clue you were pregnant until it was shoved at your face?”

“Yeah, I dunno.” She tilted her head, flooded with memories of that time of her life. “I was having military training fourteen hours a day, every day. That can be as physically straining as producing a tiny human. But I got my last period…” Aelin looked upwards, lips pursed as she tried to recall this piece of information with accuracy. “Recently.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” Her boyfriend was still, raptly watching her.

A chuckle. “Let’s say it’s statistically unlikely that I’m pregnant right now.”

“Very well, then,” Rowan said, that frown being replaced by a soft smile. They settled that way, hanging on to each other while he played with the ends of her hair.

To be honest, Aelin wasn’t worried about getting pregnant right now. When you finish a certain age of girlhood—the one when pregnancy is a frightening thing that puts your name in everyone’s lips and allegedly ruins your life—your worst nightmare might become something you really want, and you realize it’s harder to achieve than you previously thought.

Accidents still happened, Maisie being one of them, but for most of her friends, having a kid on your 30’s takes actively trying for months or even years, not just neglecting condoms by choice every now and then, after less than four months together with your partner.

“I thought that little hellion two doors down had made your hair gray enough already,” Aelin teased, thinking about what was ahead of them. What she knew they both wanted in a near-ish future.

“About the kids…”

“Uh-oh. What now?”

“They asked to have a sleepover here.”

Aelin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Maisie’s news could be anything between spilled water and arson. “Yeah, of course. We can handle Maisianne and Charles,” she said, mocking their tea party’s fake names. “Just send his dad home.”

“About that…”

Oh no. “Spill.”

“Lorcan didn’t like the idea—maybe he didn’t want to be home alone? I dunno. The kids started a tantrum, so I ended up offering him Fenrys’ old room for tonight, that way he let Charlie stay.”

“Oh, come on!” Aelin gave him an incredulous glare. “Ellie’s in a four-day trip, her grown husband is not an abandoned puppy.”

Rowan gave her a pleading look. “But he looks so miserable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Only because I think his ginger thing is actually working.”

“You’re a doctor. You’re supposed to know if it works or not.”

A shrug. “I’m an orthopedist. It’ll only be my business when I start throwing up bones.”

“Yet, you use the I’m a doctor card whenever it suits you.”

“Whenever you’re being an overbearing fussy Buzzard, you mean.” Aelin snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s frame.

“Yep,” he said around a smile, “And I’ll be exactly that now that you’re sick and Lorcan’s babysitting.”

“If he doesn’t have a nightmare about his wife and ends up cuddling with you at night, you mean.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Rowan chuckled, his eyes filled with something molten as he gazed at her.

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rowanaelinn · 1 year ago

Text

"it’s a metaphor"

"a meteor?"

I LOVE THEM !!!!! i swear if she’s pregnant i’m gonna yell at them that protection exists😂 but ill also be so happy for my idiots

also aelin is lucky to be past that age where pregnancy is frightening because i. am. not.