#AND SHE ADDED WHITETHORN IN THERE

[mrs-jamesbbarnes]

“With each stroke beneath the surface, out into the darkness, she could feel it again. Herself. Or whatever was left of it.

Aelin. She was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, and she was Queen of Terrasen.”

-Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas (pg. 301)

Me:

[acourtofquestions]

Golden flame danced between her fingers.

Elide recoiled, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"My name is Essar," the female said softly. "I am a friend--of your friends, I believe."

Elide said nothing.

"Cairn is a monster," Essar said, taking a step closer. "Stay far from him."

"I need to find him."

"You played the part of his mistreated lover well enough. You have to know something about him. What he does."

"If you know where he is, please tell me." She wasn't above begging.

Essar ran an eye over Elide. Then she said, "He was in this city until yesterday. Then he went out to the eastern camp." She pointed with a thumb over a shoulder. "He's there now."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not terrorizing the patrons of every fine establishment in this town, glutting himself on the coin Maeve gave him when he took the blood oath."

Elide blinked. She had hoped some of the Fae might be opposed to Maeve, especially after the battle in Eyllwe, but to find such outright distaste...

Essar then added, "And because my sister--the soldier you spoke with--told me. She saw him in the camp this morning, smirking like a cat."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you are wearing Lorcan's shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn's cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will." Elide cocked her head to the side.

Essar said softly, "Lorcan and I were involved for a time."

They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide's gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan's lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan's lover.

"I'll be missed if I'm gone for too long, but tell them who I am. Tell them that I told you. If it's Cairn they seek, that is where he shall be. His precise location, I don't know." Essar backed away a step. "Don't go asking after Cairn at other taverns. He isn't well regarded, even amongst the soldiers. And those who do follow him... You do not wish to attract their interest."

Essar made to turn away, but Elide blurted,

"Where did Maeve go?"

Essar looked over her shoulder. Studied her.

The female's eyes widened. "She has Aelin of the Wildfire," Essar breathed.

Elide said nothing, but Essar murmured, "That was... that was the power we felt the other night." Essar swept back toward Elide. Gripped her hands. "Where Maeve went a few days ago, I don't know. She did not announce it, did not take anyone with her. I often serve her, am asked to... It doesn't matter. What matters is Maeve is not here. But I do not know when she will return."

Relief again threatened to send Elide crumpling to the ground. The gods, it seemed, had not abandoned them just yet.

But if Maeve had taken Aelin to the outpost where they'd lied that the Valg prince had been contained...

Elide gripped Essar's hands, finding them warm and dry. "Does your sister know where Cairn resides in the camp?"

For long minutes, then an hour, they had talked.

Essar left and returned with Dresenda, her sister. And in that alley, they had plotted.

Elide finished telling Rowan, Lorcan, and Gavriel what she'd learned. They sat in stunned silence for a long minute.

"Just before dawn," Elide repeated. "Dresenda said the watch on the eastern camp is weakest at dawn. That she'd find a way for the guards to be occupied. It's our only window."

Rowan was staring into the trees, as if he could see the layout of the camp, as if he were plotting his way in, way out.

"She didn't confirm if Aelin was in Cairn's tent, though," Gavriel cautioned. "Maeve is gone--Aelin might be with her, too."

"It's a risk we take," Rowan said. A risk, perhaps, they should have considered.

Elide glanced to Lorcan, who had been silent throughout. Even though it had been his lover who had helped them, perhaps guided by Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped off by the scent on Elide's clothes.

"You think we can trust her?" Elide asked Lorcan, though she knew the answer.

Lorcan's dark eyes shifted to her. "Yes, though I don't see why she'd bother."

"She's a good female, that's why," Rowan said.

At Elide's lifted brow, he explained, "Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met Aelin." He cut a glare toward Lorcan. "And asked me to tell you that she sends her best."

Elide hadn't seen anything that came close to pining in Essar's face, but gods, she was beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan had let her go, somehow.

[azsazz]

Off Grid

Azriel x Reader [Formula One AU]

Summary: Ferrari has signed on rookie driver Dorian Havilliard. Azriel must learn to navigate the 2024 season with a new teammate and his secret relationship, with you, who just so happens to be the team’s media trainer.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,109

Notes: This one goes out to @moosemahboi for the ask this morning 😏 enjoy 😉 (idk why I can’t tag u but hopefully you see this)

Also, sorry if the formatting looks like shit I’m posting this from my phone. I busted this out so fast tho whoops

_________________________________________

“Azriel, how are you feeling knowing that Ferrari has signed young Dorian Havilliard for the 2024 season?” The reporter asks, sitting eagerly on the edge of his seat. He has his phone out, recording Azriel’s responses. The man has been hanging onto every word Azriel has said; him and the other thirty journalists eager to pester him, all cramped within the small room.

Beside him, Cassian snickers under his breath, all too obviously happy that he’s not the one who must suffer this torturous questioning. Azriel refrains from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. Well, it’s not absurd but it feels like it because it’s been the only question anyone seems to care about right now, they no longer care to ask how the new chassis feels, what his thoughts are about the new Las Vegas race added to the schedule, how he’s projected to be one of the top drivers this season. Was supposed to be one of the top performing drivers of the season. Ever since Ferrari leaked that Dorian Havilliard is making his debut with the team for the first race, it’s been a feeding frenzy for the media, trying to be the first to glean insider information about the fresh meat.

“I think he’ll make a great addition to the team,” is all Azriel offers in response.

He’s hot and sweaty from practice and being blinded by flashes of cameras that don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon isn’t helping his mood in the slightest. It’s the part of his job that he despises the most. All Azriel wants to do is drive, because nothing feels as good as the adrenaline when he’s behind the wheel, but right now all he wants is to go home, not respond to million questions he’s already answered too many times before. And to be honest, he’s kind of pissed about Ferrari signing Dorian Havilliard and nixing Rowan Whitethorn, who has signed on to be McLaren’s first seat after Aedion Ashryver’s accident at the final race of the 2023 season that sent him into early retirement.

There’s a beat of silence, and when it’s clear he has nothing else to say about the matter, someone else pops up from their seat and another question is hurled his way. “And what about your former teammate, Rowan Whitethorn? How is he taking the news of losing his seat to Havilliard?”

The urge to roll his eyes into his fucking skull is so great he almost doesn’t stop it, but the last thing he needs is the team’s media trainer on his case about the appropriate ways to conduct himself during media panels, no matter how pretty she is.

They should be asking this question to Rowan or even Dorian, whenever he begins press for the upcoming season.

“Rowan understands,” he tries to hide the sour tone in his voice. Azriel and Rowan have been driving together for the past three seasons and it’s been one of the best experiences he’s had with a teammate in Formula 1. He knows the constructors are too worried about placing him on the same team as Rhysand or Cassian, who he grew up with at karting school. They’re like brothers and they act like it too, but if they were on the same team the rivalries would feel even more drastic than they already are. “He’s a good driver and talent like his isn’t going away anytime soon.”

Rowan’s new teammate, Hunt Athalar, nods from Azriel’s other side. He and Cassian seem to be enjoying not being pestered with surface-level questions, and Azriel wishes that he was feeling the same.

With a few more unnecessary queries about Dorian, press finally ends. He, Hunt, and Cassian are escorted from the room, the trail of flashes and conversation starting up clinging to his back as he walks.

“Fucking hell,” Azriel mutters to Cassian, who jabs him in the side with a snigger once they’re cleared the room, the door shutting with a loud click behind them. “I hate these interviews.”

“Don’t need to tell me that, mate,” he laughs wholeheartedly, and Azriel glares. “I’m pretty sure everyone can tell. Might want to learn to act like you like it, though. Ferrari won’t keep you if your attitude sucks. But I’m sure that media trainer of yours is about to hunt you down and tell you the same thing.”

Azriel frowns. He thought he’d done a pretty good job at deflecting the questions about his new teammate.

“People like me for me,” Azriel shrugs, defending himself. He’s never been a bullshitter, no matter how badly his team has wanted him to be. This is what the people get, 100% Azriel, take it or leave it. And Ferrari has decided to take it, for the last three seasons. The second half of his sentence is drowned out as Cassian’s snickering becomes full-bodied laughter. “And my trophies speak for themselves.” He doesn’t mean to come off as cocky, but he’d rather be authentically himself than a puppet to the media.

Cassian shakes his head, wiping the nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, people like me for me,” he winks at Azriel’s glare. “They like you because you’re a decent driver.”

Azriel’s nose crinkles. “Decent? My car is projected to perform even better than Rhys’ this year!”

They three drivers turn down a hall, nodding to the two Haas drivers they pass: Bron and Hart.

“We’ll see, won’t we, Athalar?” Cassian cranes his neck around Azriel, directing the question to the silent driver on his other side. Hunt and Azriel have never been close, but the angel of McLaren offers a genuine smile in response.

“Should be a good season, boys.” Azriel and Cassian share a look. A perfect media-trained answer, Hunt gave. The other driver turns off down another hall, “See you later.”

“What a weirdo,” Cassian mutters once Hunt has disappeared from sight. “Good luck to Ro, having to deal with that.”

Azriel finally rolls his eyes like he’s been wanting to do since he left the press room. “Yeah, and I’m the asshole.”

Cassian huffs and the pair of drivers stop at the end of the hall where it splits to go to their respective driver rooms.

“I’ll see you later, man.”

“Hopefully in a better mood, Azzy,” Cassian chuckles and dips down the hall before Azriel can toss another glare or remark at him.

Shaking his head, Azriel returns to his driver room. He’s going to grab his things and get the fuck out of here, because relaxing at his hotel sounds much better than waiting around here any longer.

A knock on the door interrupts his actions, and Azriel wonders why the Mother fails to grace him with one sliver of luck today.

“Come in,” he grunts, snagging his water from where he left it on top of the desk.

You enter the room with your phone and clipboard in your hands. You’re typing on your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you reply to another email. The water does nothing to quench Azriel’s suddenly dry throat.

He can’t help the way his eyes drag down your body with your attention on your phone, drinking in the sight of you in your pressed pants and professional button up shirt. There’s a lanyard around your neck with your Ferrari employee access printed on it and he wants to wrap his fist around the strap and—

Wherever his mind was drifting off to is completely shattered by your piercing eyes. He hasn’t had enough time to prepare for your apparent annoyance at his attitude during the press conference. You don’t look happy, and neither is his name as it rolls from your lips in a disappointed manner. “Azriel.” You step further into the room. “What the hell was that out there? You know you can’t—”

Your rant is cut off as Azriel consumes the space between you in two long strides, leaning in to slant his lips over yours, eating up your words. You can’t help but to melt into it a little, a lot when his tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part for him, brushing up against your tongue in a sensual move.

When he straightens, you’re panting and a bit flushed. Arousal burns through your body like petrol on the track, but you steel yourself against that fire in his eyes, all ready to light you up.

“Not even going to say hello before you start in on me?” Azriel asks, licking his lips. Your eyes follow the motion, and he smirks. The way his body is pressed up against yours and the firm grip of his hands on your hips threatens to distract you further, especially when his red racing suit is slung around his waist, leaving him in that tight, black long sleeve that contours around his lithe body perfectly.

“No,” you agree, and he frowns. “I’m upset with you.”

“Was it something I said?” He cringes at his own lame attempt at a joke, ducking from your serious gaze. “‘M sorry, I’m just sick of all the Dorian questions. They’re not asking anything about the season or the car, only how I feel about a rookie taking Rowan’s seat.”

You ache for him, you really do, but things like this happen in the sport and he’s been in it long enough now that Azriel should know better than to act like this. You can admit, Rowan had been an asset to Ferrari and to Azriel, wriggling his way under the stoic driver’s skin like a worm, burrowing deep into his heart.

“Az, you need to stop playing it like Dorian took his seat on purpose,” you console gently, “We both know that it was Rowan’s time, and he couldn’t resist what McLaren might’ve proposed.”

“I know, I know,” Azriel replies unhappily, retreating to perch on the arm of the small couch. He can accept it, but he doesn’t like it, preferring to blame the new driver instead. “I don’t want to deal with that little punk,” he groans, because the thought of putting up with a cocksure rookie tires him. “Coming in here thinking he owns the damn place.”

“Azriel,” you tut, rolling your eyes. You put a hand on your hip. “That was literally you four years ago.”

“It’s different,” he mutters, but you both know that it’s not.

You abandon your phone and clipboard on the desk in the room before standing between his parted thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. His damp hair is slicked back but a strand falls across his forehead and he looks really good like this, head tilted upwards, gold eyes painted with false innocence.

“Why don’t you, instead of being Dorian’s enemy, you become his ally?” You ask softly, fingering the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Because that’s not how the team works, baby,” Azriel sighs, enjoying the way you’re scratching his skin. He wants to lean forward and rest his head in the crook of your neck, maybe take a cat nap or nip at the skin there. “We might drive for the same team, but I’m not looking to be the supporting driver.”

Fuck that. There’s no way he’s letting a rookie take his seat when he’s worked his ass off since he received it. He’s been driving for Ferrari since he first got an in the sport, four years ago. He fought tooth and nail to work up from second seat to first, and Azriel will be damned if Dorian rips it from under him in one season.

“Your jealousy is showing,” you tease your boyfriend a little, poking him on the nose. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, hanging all over each other when anyone could walk into the room, but you can’t resist your draw to Azriel. “It’s not as endearing as it is when you’re jealous that I’m talking to one of the engineers.”

“Don’t remind me,” Azriel grunts, eyes hardening a little. “You’re mine and I don’t like to share.”

You snort, “That much is clear, babe,” you step out of his arms and miss the heat of his body already. You collect your things from the desk and return to him for a quick kiss. You shoot him a final knowing look, dodging his attempts at capturing you against his chest again. “Work on it, Azriel. I mean it.”

He salutes you as you open the door to slip out. “Yes ma’am.”

It shuts quietly behind you and Azriel slumps back onto the couch, sighing.

It’s going to be a long season.

_________________________________________

@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass wasn’t sure but figured u might want to see this one 😅

[tomtenadia]

Check My Heart - 3

Hello all,

Here we are with another chapter and be prepared for a super sweet DadRowan...

MASTERLIST

A week had elapsed and on that morning in late August, Rowan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for him and a lunch pack for his daughter. It was her first day of school and he needed it to be perfect. He had cleared his schedule for the morning and afternoon. 

The previous night she had been excited and together they had laid out the uniform and prepared the backpack. She had asked for a panda backpack but her pencil case, pencils and pens were all Hawks branded. He was going to buy her regular ones but Maya had wanted to flaunt her allegiances right from the beginning. He knew his daughter and was sure she was going to brag about him very soon and put in place anyone claiming Perranth was better. HE loved his daughter but would admit that she had spent far too much time surrounded by hockey players and for an almost 6 yers old she had very strong opinions already. 

His parents had convinced him to send her to a private school with great reputation and quite an interesting curriculum. He was nervous and prior to enrolment Rowan had requested a meeting with the headmaster to discuss his situation. Had to disclose that the mother was not in the picture and that his parents looked after Maya when he was away and also were the only people beside him to be allowed to pick up Maya from school. 

So far his daughter had lived in a sort of protected environment but now she was going out in the world and, although Elide had done a wonderful job at dealing with most speculation with regards to his marriage to Lyria, he was afraid that something might leak at the wrong time and reach his daughter.

Breakfast ready, he climbed upstairs and went in Maya’s room. His daughter was just getting off the bed, her elf light switched on “morning big girl.”

Maya ran to him for a hug which Rowan did not deny her “Are you excited about school?”

She spread her arm wide “this much.” Rowan kissed her and then both went back downstairs.

“I made you waffles.”

Maya smiled and tucked in as soon as the plate was in front of her.

“I spoke to Miss G and she knows you are starting school but you can have some training in the afternoon with her after school.”

“Can we go tonight, dad? I want to tell her about school.”

In the weeks since the day he had played on the ice with Aelin, he had met her almost every morning. He had started to teach her some basic hockey manoeuvres and in return she had tried to teach him figure skating. Suffice to say that it reminded him of when as a toddler he was learning to skate. But it had been fun. Neither ever mentioned their accidents and he was not sure if she knew about him but surely she was less grumpy with him.

“That we can do.”

“She is teaching me the tappo jump.”

“You need to show me.”

Maya smiled proudly and Rowan was looking forward to see his daughter on the ice.

*

When he arrived in front of the school he paused before switching off the car and pushed back the tears he felt pooling at his eyes. 

“Dada, school!” Maya was trying hard to unfasten her belt so he quickly jumped out of the car and went to her door “wait a second.”

Once his daughter was ready he grabbed the backpack, locked the car and together they walked to the main door. Maya was buzzing, Rowan was struggling to let her hand go.

Inside they were met by teachers and Rowan walked to the table to see where his daughter was heading to.

He had visited the school with Maya a while before and she loved it.

“Name?”

“Whitethorn,” he said quietly. Hockey was a big thing in Terrasen and he did not want any fans interrupting his moment with Maya. The woman at the desk smiled at him and then pointed to a specific room.

“Ready to see your class and meet your teacher?”

“Yes,” added Maya jumping up and down in excitement.

“Welcome,” said a woman with dark skin “My name is miss Falliq and I will be your teacher.”

“I am Maya and I love school.” The teacher kneeled and smiled “I am so glad.”

“Dada, I am at school.”

Rowan kneeled and hugged his daughter “I know baby and I am so proud.” A big kiss smacked on her cheek “and I love you so much.”

Maya returned the kiss “I love you too dad.”

Rowan all of a sudden could not pull back and let her go.

Then he took a deep breath and pulled back “I’ll pick you up after school and we are going skating okay?”

“Okay.”

Finally he stood and the teacher reassured him.

Rowan pulled back his cap and sneaked outside as quickly as possible. He hid in his car for a few minutes and fought the tears that threatened to spill. His girl was growing up fast and there was not a day in which he worried if he was doing a good job.

He was about to go back home but in the end he drove to the ice rink. Maybe some exercise would dull the ache of sending his daughter to school.

In the changing rooms he went for his lockers and wore a pair of training trousers and then his spare clean jersey. It felt strange to wear it again, with his fingers he brushed the C on the left hand-side then closed his eyes and pushed aside all the dark thoughts. 

As he walked along the tunnel he felt the soft notes of music filling the arena. He was positive it was Aelin and his step had an unexpected spring until he emerged out of the tunnel and froze. 

The usual pang of panic spreading through his body.

Rowan cursed. He had been feeling better recently and had no more panic attacks but now… he leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing as his mother had coached him. She kept insisting that he had ptsd and maybe he should see a therapist but Rowan dismissed the theory every time. When he finally got his breathing under control he resumed his walk and emerged and spotted Aelin dancing at the rhythm of classical music. It was relaxing. While training with her they always kept the music on and he decided that it definitely did the trick. It had the power to keep him concentrated on the music and not on the ice.

He sneaked in and sat on the bench and studied her dance. She probably had spotted him but did not appear to be bothered by his presence. Aelin did a series of loops and jumps and he thought he recognised a Lutz. He had tried and learn more about the jumps and during their sessions he had managed to improve his single toe loop and a waltz jump, he still looked like a demented oaf but at least he was holding the landing now. 

He smiled and kept watching her. Aelin lifted her leg behind her, grabbing it with an hand and then he saw her body folding forward until it resembled a doughnut. She spun and he was mesmerised. 

Watching her skate was a thing of beauty. 

Rowan was quite familiar with some of the performances from when he was with Lyria but Aelin seemed on another level.

She was up straight again and skated in a wide oval to gather momentum, Rowan watched her get in position for a jump but as she was about to take flight he noticed the brief hesitation. That split second was all she needed. Her skate caught in the ice and went flying on the ice. Rowan in terror skated to her “Aelin,” panic in his voice.

“I am fine.” She snapped in a furious tone.

“What happened there?”

She was silent and turned her head away from him.

“Aelin?”

Silence.

“You were trying an axel.” He admitted as he had seen her preparing for a forward take off.

“I…” her hand went to her knee “I just missed the timing.”

Bullshit, he wanted to shout. He had watched a lot of her videos of her competitions and she never missed. She was amazing and all the accolades she had been attributed were deserved. All of a sudden he realised she was struggling just as much as him. 

“No, you didn’t.” He said softly and she looked up at him with a broken stare.

“I know…” he whispered and saw the surprise in her eyes “I saw the video.”

“You mean you saw me throw my career in the toilet.”

“It was a freak accident.”

Aelin scoffed hard “I landed a perfect triple axel and then what do I do? I fucking mess up with a Lutz?”

Rowan chuckled “well, it might be like us not scoring while on a 4 on 3 power play and an empty net.”

“You do realise I have no idea of what you just said?”

“We just need to teach you more hockey.”

They fell into silence and he sat at her side on the ice “want to know something cute?”

Aelin nodded.

“Maya started school.”

She squealed in delight “she told me that she was starting school, she was all excited.”

He lay down on the ice and could not care about the temperature.

“You seem sad.”

“No, I am happy, but it scares me at the same time.”

Aelin was about to ask something but Rowan stopped her and shook his head.

“Get up old man, show me some hockey.”

Rowan got up and went to the locker room and gathered some equipment and got back to the ice. He placed the net and the a few cones.

“You taught me some basic, now it’s my turn.”

He grabbed his stick and with experienced agility he zigzagged between the cones and scored.

“Do I need to cheer? What if I support the other team?”

“You really are a menace.”

Rowan huffed a laugh and continued “now, when you are handling the puck you need to protect it. Other players will try and steal it so they can score. To do that, you do this movement.” He placed the puck on the ice and showed Aelin the motions “see? You move it left and right and protect it using the blade as shield.” He finished skating and scored again “you try.”

He passed her the stick “This is huge.”

“That’s what she said.” He added with a smirk.

Aelin moved on the ice, her agility on the skates was perfect but he saw her struggle to control the puck that kept escaping.

Aelin screamed frustrated and Rowan moved closer. He pondered how close to get “Can I?” He asked, wary of personal space. When Aelin nodded he moved behind her and his hand covered her on the hilt. Slowly he moved their joined hands showing her the correct movements “Try now.” He pulled back quickly but the scent of lemon verbena still engulfed him. 

A scream of joy awoke him from his thoughts and he noticed Aelin skating among the cones with a far better control. She was a quick study. Of that he had no doubt.

When she scored Aelin celebrated with a loop and a jump and Rowan just stared at her mesmerised by that woman with fire in her veins.

“Well, you can join us next game.”

“No thanks, You brutes can have fun.”

Rowan stopped in front of her “now try and get to the net with me blocking you.”

Aelin grabbed the stick and concentrated in a fierce expression “I am ready.”

Although Rowan went easy on her she never moved much as he blocked at every single try.

“I give up.” She added throwing the stick on the ice “I don’t care about hockey anyway.” 

Rowan huffed a laugh “oh, the brute in me is hurt.”

Aelin was about to dismiss him when he stopped her “What’s a tappo jump?”

Her expression was one of curiosity “there is no such thing.”

“Maya said that she was learning the tappo jump.”

Then understanding dawned on her “the tap toe jump.” Quickly she demonstrated it to him “it’s one of the very basic jumps we teach, a fundamental,” Aelin did another jump but different “this is the bunny hop. Another basic jump.”

“Try the first one again.” She showed him and Rowan observed with interest.

A moment later he tried and crash landed on the ice. Aelin circled around him “All okay old man?”

“I haven’t fallen this much in a lifetime.”

Aelin nodded to his feet “your skates are not meant for this, you have no toe pick.”

“Oh, I have heard of that…”

“Good, now let me go back to my training before class comes in.” And with that she skated away leaving him on his own.

He chuckled to himself. It had been fun. Eventually Rowan went back to his training, allowing Aelin’s music to keep him focused. The team was getting back soon and he had to be prepared.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn  @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle @yashiw @renxzs  @aelin-gods-killer

[mariaofdoranelle]

Mistletinder

Masterlist

Merry Christmas/Yulemas, @writtenonreceipts! I hope this fic finds you well. I was so happy when I got you in the draw because I admire you so much, and I hope you have as much fun reading your gift as I had writing it ❤️

@rowaelinscourt thank you for organizing the secret Santa!

Warnings: moderate alcohol intake

Words: 4,7k

“This is gonna bite you in the ass someday, you know?” Sellene reproached from behind the steering wheel. Her friend couldn’t see what Aelin was doing on her phone, but somehow she knew.

“Shh!” Aelin looked behind her to check on the girls, but they were still sound asleep. At the age of four, if they listened to any curse word, it’d be forever until they stopped repeating it over and over again. At least, from what she was told, the Whitethorn family was used to small children and their demands. It was the whole reason why she was spending Yulemas with them, after all.

Aelin and Maisie were on their own now, and when Sellene all but dragged them to her family’s farm because of all the kids and animals, it was hard to argue. After the year from hell they had, a nice Yulemas was the least she could do for Maisie.

“You’re avoiding the subject,” Sellene insisted.

“Yes. Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you sure seem to want to keep doing it, huh?”

When you’re broke after your divorce and your business isn’t thriving, ain’t it funny what you’ll do?

On one drunken night amidst her separation, Aelin downloaded Tinder and scheduled a date on the bookstore café she owned. But when she freaked out and canceled right after the guy—Archer—arrived, she could only watch from her mezzanine office, amazed, as he stuffed his face with baked goods and left with two books.

After that, luring people from Tinder into Fireheart Books & Cafe was just a small part of her marketing plan. And the most unethical one.

“It’s a lucrative strategy,” Aelin said, feeling defensive.

“That you don’t need anymore.” Sellene rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just butcher the anthropology section to fit more tables?”

Yes. For the same reason Aelin added sidewalk dining tables. “Your point is?”

“Did you at least give someone a try while you’re at it?”

Once. Just one person that made her actually enjoy the execution of her plan, even extending it so she’d talk to him more before ghosting. Conversation flowed, and Aelin had already gone on some dates at that point after her separation, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d find love on Tinder.

“That app is a lost cause, Sel.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find some good hot dates.” Her friend wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I did.”

Aelin managed to muffle her laughter with one hand so the two sleeping beauties on the back wouldn’t wake up. She brushed her daughter’s chestnut hair away from her face, watching the way she leaned on her friend during their nap. Maisie and Bree were thick as thieves in preschool and, as single moms, Aelin and Sellene would frequently help each other out.

Sellene has a hot date? Auntie Ae and Maisie will happily have Bree for a sleepover.

Aelin is busy at the book shop? Auntie Sel and Bree can drop Maisie there when school is over.

Sellene was godsend this year, and listening to her rant about her love life was just one of the fun perks of being so close to her. If the few dates Aelin went to this year actually happened, it was because her friend insisted.

“So, how’s that thing with Ilias again?” Aelin said, desperate to change the subject.

A groan. “You will not believe what he texted me this morning…”

Aelin let her friend go on about her situationship, a little relieved that she wasn’t the focus of the conversation anymore.

Truth was, she was a little anxious about this Yulemas. Sellene guaranteed that her family was too big for Aelin to intrude in something intimate, and the Whitethorns were properly notified about her stay, but that nagging feeling that her and Maisie were crashing the party wouldn’t go.

After they got to the farm, it was a while before they reached the house.

When Sellene told her about all the family traditions and how homey it was, Aelin expected an old farmhouse of sorts. To be honest, she didn’t think much about how the house would look, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a classic-looking manor with an exterior made of white stone.

A blonde woman showed up on the porch before Sel parked the car, then she ran inside and came back, tugging a man by the arm. By that time, they were already leaving the car with their bags, but the older couple still insisted on helping them.

Rory and Owen, her friend’s aunt and uncle, as they introduced themselves. Aelin’s introduction was brief, since Sellene filled her family in on who she was beforehand, but they still made small talk. Though she wasn’t paying much attention, too caught up on the similarity between Sellene and Owen. Her friend joked about some strong traits running in her family, but this was uncanny.

“Genetics, huh?” Sellene said, a teasing grin on her face.

Aelin was staring, wasn’t she? Oops. “Yes, genetics.” She turned to Owen. “I can’t believe you’re not even her father!”

Rory laughed and urged them inside. “Come on, darling, there’s a lot of silver hair and green eyes for you to compare.” She smirked before she added, “And if you happen to like it, my son is single. Thirty-one, stable job, goes to the gym a lot—“

“Auntie,” Sellene reproached.

The matron frowned. “I’m not being very smooth, am I?”

Her husband gave her two gentle taps on the shoulder. “You’re never smooth at matchmaking, darling.”

Rory gave Aelin an apologetic smile before continuing, “We’re stuck with some housework right now, but if you can wait—“

“I’ll show her around,” Sellene said, waving her aunt off.

“Alright, then. Pick any empty room you’d like.” Rory turned to Aelin. “You and your little one are the most welcome, make yourselves at home,” she said with a beam before scurrying away to the kitchen.

And about Aelin’s little one: where the hell was she?

Sellene leaned closer to Aelin and murmured, “But you can totally flirt with my cousins if you’d like. There’s a whole bunch of them for you to pick.”

“I don’t think I’ll have time for that, but thanks.” Not that she wants to, but it’ll become a hard no if she’ll have to wrangle Maisie all the time.

“I saw them coming inside.” Sellene tugged Aelin. “Don’t worry, she’s safe here.”

“Your house is not.” At least not with her four-year-old on the loose.

The two women dropped their bags by the entrance and ran around looking for them, calling their names. Aelin couldn’t register much other than white walls and wooden furniture, her mind filled with what could Maisie possibly break in this small time frame, and how much it costs.

Aelin’s worry was peaking when she listened to her daughter’s voice coming from another porch, this one attached to the living room.

"Do you do your tattoos alone, or does your mom help you too?"

The man blinked, confused, until Maisie showed him the few Barbie bubblegum tattoos on her forearm. She gave it a pointed look, then to the many tattoos he had on his left arm, taking most of the limb.

Aelin decided it was best to make herself known, introduce yourself, and see if this stranger needed rescuing from her curious preschooler. She couldn’t see this man’s face from her point-of-view, but she had an inkling of who he could be because of his—shocker—silver hair.

“Maisie!” She called from afar, “I was looking for—“

The words died in her throat when she recognized the man before her. Aelin’s core felt ice-cold all of a sudden, despite the dangerous pounding of her heart. There was no way in hell this was happening, and she blamed Tinder for not requiring users to use their last name there.

“Aelin.” He made a point of looking at his bare wrist, as if checking the time. “I think you’re a bit late for our date.”

˜˜

Upstairs, in the safety of her bedroom, Sellene had the gall to cackle.

Aelin glared at her. “Could you not?”

Before ten minutes ago, her friend was absolutely clueless to the fact that Aelin and Rowan knew each other, just like she had no clue that Sellene and Rowan are cousins. But it saved her, since the woman walked into that porch and spared Aelin from doing any talking.

“Alright, lemme just…” Sellene turned away, as if Aelin couldn’t see her friend’s shoulders shaking from behind. Then she took a deep breath and turned back around. “Alright.” A twitch on the corner of her lips that was quickly concealed. “But you said you liked him?”

“That’s not the point!” Aelin said, pacing in the empty space between the bed and the wall.

Chatting with Rowan was nice, and she may have indulged in conversation with him more than she usually lets herself, but Aelin felt so drained after her divorce. She let herself be dragged to dates sometimes, but she didn’t have it in herself to fully face the dating scene again.

Sellene rolled her eyes and threw herself on the bed. “That’s the key point, actually. It’ll define our entire course of action.”

“Nope. Our course of action is whatever protects Maisie from this mess.”

Aelin was so afraid of fucking up Maisie’s Yulemas when she got here, she didn’t realize she’d potentially fucked up even before arriving. Her throat felt thick just to think of it.

Sellene squeezed her hand. “He’s not gonna cause a scandal or anything, Rowan’s not like that.”

“He’s not going to tell your incredibly welcoming family that I’m actually a cold-hearted milf that stood him up and ghosted?”

“Okay,” Sel trailed, grimacing. “He’s not like that, but he is a bit of a gossip, so…”

Aelin sat on the edge of the bed and groaned, her face resting in both hands. Whether he had a big mouth or not, she needed to fix this. Because she couldn’t put Maisie’s Yulemas in jeopardy, yes, but also because Rowan deserves an apology.

Truth is, Aelin never felt tempted to give a chance to the guys she chatted with, because everyone she met on Tinder could be classified as one of: a chronic manwhore, overall gross, or gross for a single but relevant reason, or a misogynist bigot. And sometimes she even liked to leave them stranded, especially when they fell into the latter category.

Usually, Aelin just acted flirty enough to let the guy think something other than coffee would happen, that way he’d run to their ‘date’ without wasting more of their time.

But there were exceptions, of course, and Rowan was one of them. He wasn’t exactly chatty, but she still found herself texting him back and forth late at night for almost two weeks. When he oh-so-gently requested to meet her in person after dropping some hints about it here and there to no avail, she knew she had to cut this short.

It was just business, or so she told herself when it was time to cancel the plans that were never bound to happen. Aelin didn’t have space in her life for much else.

But now the girls, Rowan and a few other Whitethorns were off to see the baby goats and some other kid-friendly farm animals, which gave Aelin a small time frame to plan her next move.

Sellene got up from her bed, nothing but determination on her face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’ll wait downstairs. When they come back, I’ll keep an eye on Maisie while you scurry him away to apologize.”

This was the lamest plan Aelin has ever gotten into. “I expected better scheming from you.”

“No scheming this time,” her friend warned, “just tell him the truth.”

And that was what Aelin kept in mind, as she waited with Sel in the kitchen under the disguise of chatting with Rory.

The kids barreled into the room a while later, chatting about the farm animals they saw, petted, or even fed. Rowan lingered on the other side of the kitchen, carefully avoiding Aelin’s eyes while he rectified the little one’s exaggerated stories with things like actually, no goat charged at them, they just wail all the time.

Despite the high excitement, Maisie’s attention drifted when she noticed the batch of gingerbread men coming off the oven.

“My grandma makes gingerbread people too,” she said to Rory, then frowned. “Do you know my grandma?”

Aelin’s heart squeezed at the sight. She was hoping to keep Maisie’s mind off her father’s family these holidays.

“I’m afraid not, honey. Is she from Doranelle too?”

“No, she lives very, very, very far. I need to get on a plane to see her.”

“That’s very far indeed.” Rory chuckled. “What’s she doing this year?”

Maisie shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t have Yulemas with Daddy this year because he’s stuck in prison.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on her little girl’s outcast expression as Aelin’s face grew impossibly hot. Gods, her daughter sure had a way with words.

“Because he’s a prison psychologist,” Aelin amended, to everyone’s relief, by the way their shoulders collectively relaxed.

Chaol wasn’t seeing his daughter these holidays because he was too busy in the Southern Continent with his girlfriend—former mistress—but there was no way Aelin was telling her little girl that. Work was the go-to excuse to why he missed so many bi-monthly visitations, and it worked for Yulemas too.

One day, Maisie would understand that Aelin has been a single mom since long before her divorce. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to postpone said realization for as long as she could.

“Oh, how silly of me! I forgot to get rosemary.” Rory changed the subject when silence reigned, thank Mala. The time when Chaol was a touchy subject was long gone, but people still tiptoed around it with her.

The woman continued, “Aelin, darling, could you get me some, please?”

“Sure…” she trailed, looking around. “Where can I—“

“Rowan will show you the garden,” Rory quipped.

And Aelin thought that getting him alone for a moment would be tricky. Clearly, she underestimated his mother.

Rowan glared at the older woman, but she didn’t waver. Instead, the more that odd exchange lasted, the more Rory seemed to enjoy forcing her son to spend time with someone he clearly didn’t want around.

Fuck, Aelin needed to fix this immediately.

He gestured to the open back door in the kitchen, and led her to a kitchen garden close to the house.

Sunshine glanced off the leaves which vegetables, herbs and fruit grew, and Aelin wished she could enjoy its beauty more. The smell of fresh herbs and sound of the leaves shuddering were the only soothing things, given the conversation she had ahead.

She waited for him to make a start, to no avail. Perhaps he did, earlier today when she first saw him, right before Sellene walked in and they pretended that first exchange didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry.”

Rowan’s step faltered for a second. He gave her a curt nod, and continued his stroll towards the rosemary shrubs.

She continued, “I shouldn’t have stood you up, it was really shitty of me and I totally deserve it if you hate me right now.” A pause. “But I was hoping we could put this aside for Yulemas, you know? Being in the same house and all.”

“Alright,” he said while slowly nodding, and Aelin’s shoulders loosened up with relief for a moment, until he finally looked her in the eye and added, “I'll go easy on you if you tell me what happened.”

“I told you, I’ve been having a hard time dating after my—“

“Yeah, you told me that in your apology text, but I feel like there’s something missing.”

He got her there. It was true, but not the ugly truth.

“Remember the shop I asked you to meet me at?”

He nodded.

“I own it. And my Tinder account is strictly for… cash inflow.”

This time, he fully stopped. He studied Aelin with widened eyes, and after judging the seriousness in her expression, he laughed. It was loud and full, overpowering the gentle flutter of the leaves and birds’ wings around them.

He kneeled by the shrub, snapped a few branches with his fingers, and it was just then that Aelin realized they had already arrived at their destination.

“You’re not mad?”

Rowan shrugged, and she wanted to read his expression so bad, but he had his back to her, still working on his mother’s rosemary. “I guess should be mad. I’m definitely impressed. It’s a very clever move.”

Aelin didn’t know if she should thank him or not. “But are we cool?”

He chuckled, something more amicable in his eyes this time, when he turned around. “Yes, sure. It was just online dating. Do you know how often people get ghosted? I wasn’t gonna start a riot because of that.”

“‘Kay, thanks.” He was being such a nice sport, his forgiveness only worsened the guilt she felt. “And though you’re right about that, I’d be totally mad and petty if someone stood me up. Just saying.”

“I wasn’t mad that you stood me up—“

Aelin sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

He sighed and continued, “Alright, I was upset. Not mad. What actually made me mad is that you ghosted me after that.”

She stopped mid-stride, her head tilted. This made absolutely no sense. Rowan broke eye contact to rearrange the branches inside the small bag, making his fingers busy for a small moment of awkward silence that lasted a lifetime in Aelin’s head.

“I liked you, Aelin. You didn’t have to do that for me to visit your coffee shop.”

Aelin didn’t want to think about why his words stung, but they did.

˜˜

Engaging in conversation at dinner would be a lot easier if Maisie was eating, not showing Bree magic tricks.

She placed a french fry on the table, between her and her friend. “Now close your eyes,” Maisie commanded. When her friend complied, she shoved the fry in her mouth and said, “Ta-da!”

Bree opened her eyes, and the loud gasp she let out after noticing the fry was gone gave Aelin a good chuckle.

“Do it again!” Sellene’s daughter said, clapping her hands.

“Maybe you could do it with the cucumber this time?” Aelin cut in.

Maisie turned to her mother with all seriousness a four-year-old can muster. “Mommy, it’s Friday. We only eat fries.”

Being the little entertainer she is, the people near Maisie laughed, not for the first time this dinner. Including Rowan, who sat next to Sellene, almost in front of her. It was weird, hearing his laughter instead of reading a “haha”. A good weird. Still weird. For Mala’s sake, she needs to sort her feelings out.

“You are such a silly goose,” her friend said, fondness filling her eyes.

“No, Auntie Sel, you are a silly goose. I’m a silly gosling.” The little girl took her time pronouncing each syllable of the last word, careful to get it right.

Aelin’s mouth was ajar as she stared at her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Wowan.” Maisie said, beaming. “We’re bestest friends now because he’s an animal doctor, and he promised to show me all his animal friends so I can be friends with them too.”

“Is that so?” Aelin plastered on a smile, hoping it wasn’t too strained. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was nice enough to Maisie for her to consider him her new ‘bestest friend’, even before Aelin apologized. Fuck, she needed to unpack this later.

When she dared a glance at Rowan, he looked a little stiff, but still gave her a quick, close-lipped smile. “She likes the baby goats.”

Aelin would know. Maisie talked about them all day.

“Wowan, I’ll do a magic trick.”

He turned his full attention towards Maisie.

She continued, “Did you see me do it before?”

“Yes.”

“Try to forget.”

“I can’t do it, Maisie, I saw you do that trick too many times.” He leaned back on his chair, a lazy smirk on. “But I haven’t seen you make the cucumber disappear.”

She jolted on her seat, put a cucumber slice on the table, pointed a finger at Rowan and yelled, “Close your eyes!”

When he complied, Maisie ate that cucumber with a ferocity Aelin had never seen before.

“Dear Mala,” Rowan said when he opened his eyes, feigning shock. “Do it again.”

And that’s how he convinced her to eat every single vegetable on her plate. Fuck, he sure knows how to woo a single mom.

Not woo, Aelin chastised herself. Rowan said he liked her. In the past tense. Which should be a relief, but this wasn’t how she felt as she watched him smile at her daughter and make her have fun while eating healthy.

Rowan stole a glance at her, but Aelin had her eyes on him already. He swallowed, likely unsure of what to do after being caught staring while she was already staring.

Thank you, she mouthed so Maisie wouldn’t hear. To her surprise, his eyes softened, and he gave her a small smile.

Relief finally washed over her, when Aelin realized that the awkwardness in his expression had vanished.

˜˜

As predicted, Maisie was so hyper Aelin didn’t manage to properly enjoy the farm herself. But she didn’t mind it, since her daughter was the whole purpose of this trip. Besides, sometimes watching the kids play could be better than TV.

“I wanted to go out to eat with you, not you and your baby!” Maisie’s arms flailed around as she tried to explain her frustration.

Bree clutched her doll to her chest, a wounded look on her face. “But I can’t leave my baby alone!”

Rowan, who was just passing by the living room, froze when he registered what was going on. He turned to Aelin, confusion written all over his face, and discreetly sat by her side on the couch.

“Everything alright?”

Aelin pointed at the tea party toy set near the girls. “They’re at a pretend restaurant, eating pretend food and talking about their pretend jobs.” A pause so she wouldn’t start laughing here and there. “Maisie was expecting a girls’ night, but Bree brought her baby with her.”

“Oh, I see.” Aelin’s gaze swept over him for a minute, and it was unfair how good his pine-green eyes looked when they were filled with amusement like this. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m getting popcorn. You?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, “I think this is a very complex issue. We can’t read it under a Manichaean view.”

Aelin chuckled, and they fell into comfortable silence while watching the girls. Rowan’s pine scent hit her senses, but it was the chilly wind coming from the window that made her shiver.

“You cold?”

She shrugged. “Not that much.”

Rowan stood up. “I’ll warm us up.”

“You’re getting a blanket?”

“Better,” Rowan said, a troublesome glint in his eyes. “Wine.”

Not as effective as a blanket, but definitely more fun.

“Merlot?” He suggested with his head tilted.

Unbelievable. Aelin briefly mentioned her favorite type of wine to this man over text in a late night conversation, and he still remembered it weeks later.

Rowan seemed to misread her silence, his expression becoming guarded. “But I can share the bottle with Enda if you don’t feel like it.”

Aelin’s gaze quickly turned to her daughter before she focused back on him. “Can it wait until after Maisie’s bedtime?”

Rowan took a step back with a grin on, and his eyes wouldn’t leave Aelin. “I’ll get the snacks ready.”

After wrangling Maisie around the house a little more and putting her to bed, Aelin found herself in the same living room as before. However, this time, the tea party set on the table was replaced by a small charcuterie board and two glasses of red wine.

They talked about their lives for hours. Now it was nearing midnight, and none of them seemed to grow tired of each other’s companies. It was just easy like that with him, and she knew it. Too easy, was what Aelin told herself in her office as she let him down. Too easy to be true, and not the delusion of a lonely twenty-nine-year-old divorcée.

Aelin had so many reasons why she couldn’t give Rowan a real chance, but she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Actually, she could remember, they just felt… small.

Too bad she was too late.

“And you never thought to move back here? Being a vet and all?”

Rowan sipped his wine. “I’ve lived in the city since I was a teenager, my whole life’s there. But I visit a lot.”

“And your cousins?”

“Not as much, but Yulemas is always here.” He cocked his head, his expression shifting as he grinned at her. “Though the company is usually much less good-looking.”

Aelin blinked. She stared at the glass of wine. It was her second, and Aelin knew her limits. She wasn’t even tipsy. It couldn’t be.

“Rowan Whitethorn… are you flirting with me?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying for a while.” A pause. “Is it working?”

Wow. She looked around, mind racing and empty at the same time. A turned-off TV. Potted plants with fairy lights on. A mistletoe. Gifts under a tree.

Rowan was flirting with her.

Rowan, Maisie’s new “bestest friend”. Kind, attentive Rowan who remembered her favorite wine and looked as delicious as the Focaccia bread he stole from the kitchen for her.

Rowan, who seemed to give her a second chance even when she didn’t deserve it.

“It’s working, yeah.”

He didn’t dare say a word after her response, and neither did she. He leaned forward, barely blinking as he tried to meet her eye.

Aelin needed to say something. She wanted to say something else, but it was hard to do it while she felt her old resolutions shatter like a wall of glass.

Going on shitty date after shitty date so she could find someone reasonably good, until something happened and she had to go back to the stream of shitty dates? No, meeting new people was a hard no for now.

But it was different when she had already met someone, right? Aelin wasn’t ready to give dating a chance, but she was more than willing to give Rowan a chance.

She got up and tugged Rowan’s hand.

“What?”

Aelin tugged on it again, so he got up from the couch too. Wordlessly, she led him to a spot right under the beam that divided the living room and the hallway.

She pointed at the mistletoe above them. “Oh, look.”

“Wow.”

“I definitely didn’t see that and drag you here.”

“And my mother definitely didn’t fill the house with mistletoes tonight because she’s in love with you and Maisie.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied.

“So surprising.”

“Shocking.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Absolu—”

Rowan pulled their lips together, cupping her face with both hands while she wrapped her arms around him. Their lips brushed together, and it was almost unfair how soft he felt. He gently nipped hers so Aelin would open up to him, and the kiss was sweet and hungry at the same time. His hands traveled down her neck and arms, making her shiver, until he reached her waist and tugged her closer.

Well, fuck. If Aelin didn’t have any doubts about giving this a chance anymore, she didn’t know what to call it now. A negative amount of doubts? Anyway, her mind was jello. Aelin couldn’t know where this was going, but she knew she’d let it happen now. No more holding back.

Rowan broke the kiss and put their foreheads together, breathlessly breathing her in with closed eyes.

“If I ask you out on another date, will you show up this time?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, right before her parted lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “And I might even delete Tinder, depending on how large your coffee order is.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[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

[writtenonreceipts]

@throneofglassmicrofics

July Prompt: Watermelon Pairing: Nestaq (Nesryn x Sartaq)

a/n: idk. just wanted to write them. took an embarrassing amount of time to spit this out.

warnings: none, except being very poorly edited, 556 words

.*.*.*.*.

Watermelon

“What are you doing?”

Nesryn did her best to hide her flinch as she looked up with as much innocence as she could muster.  Standing next to her in the dwindling line of the picnic line-up, Sartaq didn’t even bother hiding his amusement.

The sun beat down overhead at just the right angle to where he remained in shadow and she was left to the sunglare.  The mid-July heat left the entire party desperate for refreshment, but the Whitethorn-Galathynius household always knew how to throw a party.  There were lounge chairs beside the pool and shade umbrellas already in place.  Mostly everyone else had gone through the line which made Nesryn feel all the more confident in her food choices.  At least she would have if Sartaq could learn to keep his trap shut.

She squared her shoulders and fixed him with as dignified a glare as she could. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She even planted a hand on her hip for emphasis.

“Do you really need all that watermelon?”  He pressed.

Nesryn forces herself not to look down.  Because she knew just how loaded that plate was with all that watermelon.

“I like watermelon,” she said.  Which was true. “A lot.”

Sartaq’s grin broadened. “Sure.”

“And it’s hot,” she added.

“Okay.”

“No one else took any one their trip through, their loss.”

Alright, so maybe that wasn’t the best etiquette in picnic-barbeque goings on.  But she really was more of a if you snooze you lose mentality type person.

What she didn’t like though was Sartaq teasing her.  Not with his stupid grin or that gleam in his eyes.  Didn’t help that he was shirtless having just got out of the pool half an hour ago.  Did he really have to be as attractive as he was?

Eye’s up Faliq, she told herself.

“Right,” Sartaq murmured, obviously not buying anything she was saying.  And, most unfortunately, noticing the way she was ogling him.  That smile of his ticked just a little higher.

“There’s plenty of watermelon left,” she continued. 

She didn’t know what it was about Sartaq that made her heart rate pick up and her breath hitch.  They’d known each other for two years now after a messed up series of awkward experiences (her fault) and accidental strip tease post thunderstorm last November (her fault too).  Despite her faux paus and many, many, mistakes, he still hadn’t written her off.  Which she supposed was good.  Or even more awkward.  Hell he probably pitied her.  She pitied her.

Sartaq reached out and plucked a piece of watermelon from her plate before he headed back to the seating area where most of their friends had taken up.

Nesryn watched him go, not checking him out, and grabbed a napkin from the pile.  It wasn’t her fault she preferred watermelon and there really was plenty.  She’d have a dozen watermelons delivered to his house, see what he thought about that.

“Why are you checking out Sartag?”

Nesryn nearly dropped her plate as her friend, Yrene, stepped up beside her.  She wore a yellow sundress, her thick curls spiraling down her back.  She looked absolutely stunning even at eight and a half months pregnant.  

“I’m not checking out Sartaq.” Lie.

Yrene only raised a single brow before grabbing her own plate of food.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Hell.

.*.*.*.*.

you can also follow me @writtenonreceiptswrites that will just be me posting straight updates, nothing in between (trying that out instead of a taglist currently)

[leiawritesstories]

little princess

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

word count: 827

warnings: none, i swear

Enjoy!

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

Eleven hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Says the one who knocked Elide up first.”

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

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

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

"Ah, the perils of fatherhood."

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

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

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

“Gods above, calm down.”

“I am calm!”

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

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

“Ready to meet your little princess?”

Rowan gulped, fighting back unexpected tears. Princess.

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

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

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

“What are we naming her?”

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

Utterly perfect.

~~~

tags:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[rowanaelinn]

Come and Play

This is… a little something 👀

Warnings: NSFW, and I know I’m never seeing god | Word Count: 1,900

If there was one thing Aelin Galathynius was certain about, was that she despised her boss. He was the definition of an asshole, always broody and never cracking up a smile or compliment. Not only that, but he was also annoyingly smart, in a way that made him able to keep up with her snark which made him ten times more annoying.

He always demanded more of her: more dedications, more hours, more availability.

He wasn’t a bad guy per see. He’d given her all her days off and half of his when her uncle had died last yar. She’d tried to thank him then, but he just waved it off, telling her to come back rested to work.

“What was the verdict of the Archeron case?” He asked her as she sipped from her steaming cup of coffee which she’d just poured. It was what she did on her break, but Rowan Whitethorn didn’t seem to understand what a break was.

Ten years her senior, he had founded Cadre Law Firm with his best friend, Lorcan Salvaterre, straight out of law school. Now years later, it was one of the most prestigious firms of the country.

They’d hired her five years ago, and she’d just become Senior Associate less than a year ago. A promotion that her boss had announced to her with a blank face, before giving her three more cases to work on.

She believed he was allergic to happiness.

“It’s all over the news,” she answered, shrugging and sipping from her cup again.

“And I’m asking you, her lawyer who was at the trial. Excuse me for thinking you’d be more reliable than those gossip magazines.”

She rolled her eyes, such dramatics. Aelin’s client, Feyre Archeron, was one of the most famous actresses in the world right now, and the moment she stepped foot in their firm, Aelin had fought teeth and nails to get the case.

It hadn’t been an easy fight; she was only a Senior Associate and compared to the five Partners and the two Shareholders, and yet Aelin had won it.

“The bastard is going to rot in jail for ten years with no reduction possible, then is forbidden to get less than fifty yards away from Miss Archeron.”

He nodded, taking in the verdict. She’d just come back from court, and even if there had been a lot of evidence against Tamlin Spring’s abusive ass, it had been a hard fight to make the justice system actually work in favor of the victim.

Her boss’s arms were crossed, and she turned her gaze away when she realized she was staring at the way his suit fitted his body, at the muscles it showed off. Gods, wasn’t he uncomfortable in such tight clothes? Not that she was better with her pencil skirts, but how could she not wear those when they made her ass look so fabulous? Maybe he wore those suits for the same reason, because inside he was as vain as she was. At least she didn’t hide it, she had her reasons to love herself so much.

Through, as she threw another look toward the silver-haired man while he watched his watch, she supposed that if he had his reasons, too. This was the more irritating part of this whole thing: he was attractive.

And not attractive in the way that would have her take a mental note and then forget about it if she were to cross his path on the street.

No, he was enticing enough to follow her to her deepest dreams. She hated this; and pushing her hate onto something so vague seemed useless, so she decided to hate him instead. It was easier, and quite fun if she was being honest.

“Decent work,” he said, and on his way to leave he added, “I want all the paperwork related to that case on my desk before midnight.”

He was gone before she could protest or even complain, but it didn’t stop her from spitting an insult directed at him. She didn’t have to fill all the paperwork now; she knew for a fact that other associates weren’t asked for such heavy work under such short delayed. No, the asshole just hated her probably as much as she hated him.

Great, her break was ruined now. He’d make her life hell if she didn’t do this, he’d drown her under work. She’d be at the office until late, which was a bummer.

She rolled her shoulders, feeling how tense she was. She needed to relax a little, and she had just the right idea in mind to relieve some tension.

Biting on a croissant and standing, she typed a text on her phone to Dorian. He was her boyfriend, in a way. He technically was doing all the things a boyfriend did, he slept over at her place most of the times, took her out for dinner and other dates. Hell, she’d even met his dad.

And he was alright, and good at sex which was why she was texting him on her way to her office. But it wasn’t passionate. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t in love with her, and neither was she. It seemed like the perfect situationship she could ask for. She was too busy for an actual boyfriend anyway.

She grinned when he texted her back he’d wait for her at his place at ten in the evening. That was finally something to look for. She’d kicked ass these past few days in court, and she really deserved a good reward for it.

--

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s got you so tense?”

“No, shut up and get naked,” she whispered, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. It was late, and she needed the kind of high only a good orgasm would give her. He chuckled, unbuttoning her shirt. Gods, she wished he’d just rip it.

She believed it was the difference between good sex and amazing sex. The roughness, the words whispered or shouted. Not that she complained about the sex Dorian gave her, an orgasm was an orgasm. A guy knowing how to make a woman come was rare enough, she wouldn’t waste time being picky.

“How do you want me?” She breathed once his shirt was off, her hands undoing his pants buttons. He broke the kiss, panting and smiling.

“On top.”

She smirked, pushing him onto the bed after he got rid of his pants and underpants. She threw a condom at him as she got rid of the few articles of clothing she still had on. He sat on the bed, hands on her lips and he kissed her navel, his hand making its way between her legs.

Her hands shot for his shoulder, holding herself steady as he drew moans out of her. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back. She imagined that the kisses laid on her stomach were bites, that the fingers inside of her would be going faster, deeper and harder.

She needed more, needed more than just fingers. She pushed on his shoulders, having him lay on the bed. His fingers left her, and she opened the condom and rolled it over his cock. She hoovered over him, and sunk down unto him, not in the mood for teasing.

Her nails broke the skin of his chest as she moaned at the stretch. She started moving quickly, desperating searching that high she thought about the whole day. Dorian started thrusting up, their hips meeting.

His hands grabbed, caressed and touched every place of her body, and yet as she broke it didn’t feel enough. Her orgasm didn’t fulfill her the way she wanted it to, and even as she climaxed, she wanted more. Because then, maybe she’d feel satisfied.

She sat on his hips, sinking deeper and started rolling her hips, tearing moans out of both their lips.

“Fuck!” she cried as her phone started ringing, just as Dorian grabbed her hips and helped her fuck herself on him. One look at her phone had her groaning.

“Don’t pick up,” the man under her panted.

But that wasn’t an option, not when that asshole boss of her called her. She whispered in his ear, “Keep going.” And then grabbed the phone, answering the goddamn call.

“What do you want?” She asked, her voice was enough to make him understand that he was bothering her.

Dorian, under her, hesitated for a few seconds but then grinned, deciding to go along with it. She’d just tell Whitethorn to fuck off, so she could get fucked in peace.

“Half of those instruments are badly written Galathynius, is it the kind of professionalism you put into your work? If so, we might have to reconsider your place in this firm.”

The bastard. He’d called her one minute past midnight just so he could insult her.

She couldn’t explain the rush than ran down her veins; couldn’t explain why she didn’t just hang up.

“If you-“ She bit her lip, holding in a moan as Dorian hit deep inside of her. “If you wanted a show, you should have come to the courthouse.”

“As if I had time to watch you play.”

She chuckled, out of breath. She closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t hear the noises of body coming together. “T-too bad for you. I’m very good at playing.”

There was a long silence before he asked, “Where are you?”

She bit on her free hand, brow furrowed. She took a deep breath, “Gym, why? Want to come insult me there?”

“Insult?” He nearly sneered. “I just don’t stand for half-assed jobs when it put the reputation of what I’ve spent my life working on in peril.”

She hated him. Hated him so, so much. So much that his words had her clench around another man’s cock. “I won.”

“And yet you still show up the firm barely on time, you install non-professional relationships with your clients without mentioning how you walk through those goddamn walls as if you didn’t still have everything to learn. This is your problem, Galathynius, you refuse to learn, and it makes you so infuriat—”

“Oh, Gods, Rowan!” She screamed as Dorian hit deeper inside of her, and she fell over the edge a second time.

This orgasm lasted for what felt like hours, waves of pleasing hitting her over and over again, making it impossible to breath correctly. She might have been screaming the whole time, too. She wasn’t aware of anything other than the way her muscles relaxed, the feeling of numbness spreading through her veins.

It might have been seconds, minutes or hours when she regained consciousness. Only then, she realized that Dorian wasn’t moving anymore. She looked up, only to find him looking horrified, eyes on her phone which had fallen on the side of his head.

She rushed to grab it, only to realize she hadn’t hung up.

He’d heard her come.

And he’d heard her scream his name as she did.

She hit the red button, ending the phone call, and fell on the side of Dorian. She groaned, head in her hands.

She was so, so screwed.

••••••

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

[golden-kingdom]

Favorite Crime - Chapter 2

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Author’s note: I'm so inspired by this fic, I can't stop writing. So you get chapter 2 earlier than expected. Like I said in the first chapter, I can't guarantee a schedule so enjoy for now. I'm on spring break so I might have another chapter written before the end of the week but I don't want to promise anything.

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Celaena arrived at Arobynn’s office after a quick shower and took a deep breath before knocking on the wooden door. It took a minute, but her boss finally replied.

“Come in.”

He was busy speaking on the phone, so Celaena sat down on the plush armchair in front of his large black desk and waited. She knew he liked to test her patience and her commitment by making her wait like this. She looked around the room. Arobynn was a rich man and he liked to show it off. His office was big, with dark walls, polished wooden floors, and a deep red rug sweeping under his desk. There were a few bookshelves against the wall behind him, though she doubted he was much of a reader. It was mostly for appearance.  Lined on the shelves were all kind of expensive decorative objects and bottles of alcohol. On his right was a large window overlooking the courtyard and on his left was a painting, no doubt exorbitant and made by someone famous. The lighting was always dimmed to create an ambience as ominous as the man sitting there. She always felt a little claustrophobic in here, no matter the size of the room.

After a few minutes, he finally ended the call, putting his phone down. He looked up, staring at her like she was an inconvenience when he was the one who had asked to see her in the first place.

“I want you to follow Whitethorn,” Arobynn simply stated, crossing his long fingers in front of him.

Celaena had to take a few seconds to make sure she had heard him correctly.

“You want me to do what?” she asked, baffled by the sudden change of plan.

“I know you heard me perfectly, Celaena, don’t make me repeat myself,” he replied in a tone leaving no room for debate.

“But you told me to stay away from him,” she insisted.

“Yes, but it doesn’t prevent you from trailing him and gathering information on his investigation, does it?” the man said with irritation in his voice.

He moved his chair forward, getting closer to Celaena, and looked her in the eyes with his piercing gray stare.

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” he started, drawling out the syllables. “You are under strict orders to never approach him or reveal yourself to him.”

“I understand,” Celaena replied quickly.

“Do you? Because the last time you didn’t seem to understand.”

“I won’t approach him. I’ll follow him from a distance,” she said in an obedient tone that was unlike her. But she knew it’s what he wanted to hear.

“Good,” he said with a smile that was all but comforting.

When Celaena didn’t stand up, he added: “That’s all. You can leave.”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. She hated this place. She had clear memories of all the times Arobynn took his anger out on her in here.

…

Rowan was late to work. He had had another sleepless night thinking about her. He hadn’t even had time to stop at his favorite coffee shop on the way. He would have to do with the office’s bland coffee. Though that wouldn’t do much for the dark circles under his eyes.

Serving himself a cup in the kitchen space and focused on his thoughts, he didn’t hear his colleague arrive. He startled when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Gods damn, Whitethorn, why are you so stiff?” Fenrys asked with his usual laugh.

Rowan glared at the blonde man in response.

“Not a good day, I’m guessing?” Fenrys said sarcastically.

“How perceptive of you, Moonbeam,” he deadpanned, putting down the coffee pot.

Fenrys didn’t let his tone deter him. He was used to Rowan’s broody temperament.

“Maybe you’ll be happy to learn Salvaterre has new information on Sardothien,” he told Rowan.

Rowan instantly looked up from his coffee cup. 

“How do you even know that?” Rowan asked him, trying to not look too eager even though he was dying to learn what Fenrys knew.

Fenrys didn’t miss the way Rowan’s attention shifted at the mention of the assassin.

“Ah! I knew it was about her,” his colleague exclaimed. “You gotta stop obsessing over her, my friend.”

Rowan glowered at this, giving the blonde man a dark look.

“I’m not the one who has the hots for a psychopath,” he replied.

He took a sip of his coffee. It was horrible but he needed the caffeine to stay awake.

“I don’t have the hots for her. I just like to imagine how she looks under that hood. Someone so skilled has to be beautiful. Don’t you ever wonder what she looks like?” Fenrys mused.

“No, I have better things to do,” he replied without missing a beat. “And skilled? Is that how you qualify a murderer?”

“You gotta admit she’s good at what she does,” replied the younger man.

“I don’t have to admit to anything. My job is to catch and arrest a criminal. The end,” he said, indicating the conversation was over.

“You’re boring,” complained Fenrys, pouting.

Rowan didn’t even bother replying to that and left the kitchen. He headed straight to his boss’ office. He knocked on the door and the only answer he got was grunt. He opened the door and let himself in. Lorcan took his eyes off the papers in front of him and looked at Rowan, waiting. The dark-haired giant was man of few words, Rowan knew that, so he got straight to the point.

“Moonbeam told me you have new info on Sardothien,” he told him.

“Yes, sit down,” Lorcan simply replied.

Rowan took a seat in front of him.

“Remember Sam Cortland, the young man we found almost dead at the docks a few weeks ago? He wants to talk to us,” Lorcan said.

Rowan remembered Cortland. He had been tortured and left for dead. When they had found him, he was barely breathing. He didn’t understand how that was related to the female assassin though.

“He knows Sardothien?” he asked his boss, perplexed.

“Yes. Well, he’s not very inclined to talk to us about her in particular but he has info on The Guild,” replied the other man.

“What kind of info?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m going to see him in the hospital right now. I want to see what he has to offer in terms of information.”

Rowan nodded thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“I’m coming with you,” he told Lorcan.

Lorcan didn’t say anything. He just stood from his chair and grabbed his jacket and his gun. Rowan downed the rest of his coffee, making a disgusted face at the taste, and followed his boss.

…

When they arrived at Rifthold’s Hospital, they headed straight for the floor where Sam’s room was located. There was only one security guard at the door, and he let them in when they showed their badges. Rowan didn’t know what to expect. The last time he had seen the young man, he was in a terrible state. Sam was laying on his bed, his face bruised and his lip split, but otherwise in a much better condition than he had been three weeks ago.

The two men sat down in the plastic chairs next to his bed. Rowan got out his notepad, scribbling on it, while Lorcan talked.

“Hi Sam. We’re agents Salvaterre and Whitethorn from the FBI. We heard you wanted to talk to us,” said Lorcan in an uncharacteristically kind voice.

“I know who you are,” replied the younger man. “You’re the ones who found me and saved my life. Thank you.”

“Just doing our job, kid,” said Lorcan. He wasn’t about to have this young man get emotional on him. He hated this part of the job; he was not good with feelings.

“Do you know Celaena Sardothien?” Rowan asked abruptly, looking up from his notepad. 

Lorcan gave him a disapproving look. He was going too fast; this isn’t what they had agreed on.

“I… well, yes,” started Sam. “But I’m not willing to say anything about her right now.”

“Why? Did she threaten you?” Rowan replied quickly. “We can have more officers placed in front of your room if that’s the case. You don’t have to be afraid of her.”

He gave Sam a look that meant to be reassuring, but truly was more threatening. But the young man didn’t recoil.

“No, she didn’t. I haven’t seen her in weeks,” he stated.

“Is she the one who did this to you?” Rowan pressed on.

“What?” Sam said with surprise. “No! She would never do that.”

Rowan was about to argue, but Lorcan gave him a silent look to tell him to stay quiet.

“What did you want to tell us then?” asked Lorcan, taking back control of the conversation.

“I want to tell you about The Guild. I was working for them before… Well, you know,” the young man said, pointing to his face. “I don’t know exactly who did this to me, but I’m certain it was them.”

“Alright. What do you know?” said Lorcan, giving a pointed look to Rowan to take notes and not open his mouth.

“They are a secret criminal society, much bigger than they let on. Hundreds of people work for them. Yes, they have assassins and hitmen, but they also have conmen, thieves, spies, drug dealers, IT experts… And they have eyes and ears everywhere. A lot of officials are on their payroll,” Sam started.

“I was recruited two years ago, when I had just turned 18. I had no money, no job, no prospects, basically I was the perfect target. They lured me in by promising money and a dream life. I didn’t have any goals in life, but by joining them I finally had a purpose,” he continued.

“They started by training me. They own this huge manor in town where I lived and learned the ropes with other recruits. They taught me everything I know. It was great at first. I was so proud when I was sent on my first mission. But after a few months, it started turning bad,” he said with a grimace.

“The people who work for The Guild are not kind. You aren’t supposed to make friends with the others. You keep to yourself and obey what you are told. You don’t ask questions. And if you fail, there are consequences.”

Sam stopped, composing himself. Lorcan gave him an encouraging smile, urging him to go on.

“The first time I failed a mission, I was terrified to go back to the manor and face my boss. But I had nowhere else to go. I was beaten to a pulp, and I had to stay in bed for a week to heal. Since I wasn’t able to work, I didn’t gain any money. So as soon as I felt a bit better, I was back on my feet,” he carried on.

“Time went by, and I got used to the violence. I didn’t flinch anymore when they hit me. But I was miserable. That’s when I met this girl. She looked like an angel, but she was deadly with weapons. She was always kind with me. She gave me hope in this ugly world,” he said with a smile.

“Last month, I decided to quit the criminal life and run away. I had a plan, I had everything figured out. But someone learned about it. I was called into a meeting by my boss and, before I knew it, I was tied up and brought to an abandoned building. They tortured me for hours. They thought I had information on something. I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t know anything, I swear. I just wanted to get away,” the younger man went on.

“When they realized they would not get anything out of me, they just left, thinking I was dead. That’s when you guys found me and brought me to the hospital. And here I am,” he finally said, taking a deep breath.

Lorcan and Rowan exchanged a look.

“Can you tell us the name of your boss? Of anyone?” asked the dark-haired agent.

“Everyone went by aliases. I only knew my boss by Tern, but I doubt it was his real name. I know he had a boss, the one behind everything. Everyone was scared of him, even Tern, but I never saw him. He was like this shadow watching everyone from afar,” Sam replied, suppressing a shiver.

Lorcan looked at his watch. They had already been here for more than an hour. Rowan seemed eager to keep going and ask more questions, but Lorcan wanted to take the time to digest and analyze all this information before going further.

“Okay, you did the good thing by telling us all of this,” he reassured Sam. “We will let you rest, and we’ll come back tomorrow to ask you more questions, if that’s alright with you.”

Sam nodded his head. Lorcan stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and motioned for Rowan, who was still looking at the young man, to follow him. They walked out of the room and headed to the elevator.

“I told you to just shut up and listen. You pushed him too far with your questions about Sardothien,” Lorcan said, anger in his voice.

“He knows something. He’s not telling us everything,” Rowan replied in the same tone.

“This is not how it works, and you know it. The kid is traumatized, we need to take it slow. He already gave us a lot of info on The Guild. It’s not by pushing him by force that you’ll get him to open up,” his boss argued.

“We need all the info we can get on Sardothien. It’s urgent; she’s dangerous and we need to stop her,” Rowan replied curtly before getting into the elevator.

“You’re not in charge here, Whitethorn. I am. We are doing this my way. If you’re not happy with it, you don’t have to come tomorrow,” Lorcan said, following him inside. His tone was final, and Rowan knew not to push him. He gritted his teeth but didn’t fight further.

…

Celaena had followed Whitethorn and his boss to the hospital. She was surprised to see Sam Cortland there. She had no idea he was in the hospital. When she realized the young man was talking to the FBI and providing them with information on The Guild, she quickly made up a plan. She needed to get this handled.

The assassin went to the employees’ locker room and found scrubs that sort of fitted her. The green color made her look sick, but it would have to do. She couldn’t be picky about clothes right now. She put a stethoscope around her neck and pulled her hair up in a ponytail. She looked at the entry logs and discovered there was a nurse called Lillian who wasn’t working today. She smiled to herself; fate had always been on her side. She waited for the two agents to leave before swiftly grabbing a medical chart and a name tag that said Lillian Gordaina.

She made her way to Sam’s room, giving a charming smile to the security guard before entering. Sam was laying on his bed, looking out the window, and he didn’t notice her. She walked up to him and couldn’t help the way her heart sank when she saw the yellowing bruises on his face and how he was holding his ribs, clearly in pain. Who had done this to him? But this isn’t why she was here, she reminded herself, she had a task to accomplish.

When she got next to his bed, Sam turned around and finally saw her. His eyes widened and he started panicking.

“Celaena! What are you doing here?” he whispered, worry in his voice. “Are you here to kill me?”

He gazed around in horror, but he didn’t alert the security guard. He looked at her, resign on his face.

“Please make it quick and painless,” he told her, closing his eyes.

Celeana took his hand in hers and he opened his eyes, startled.

“I’m not here to kill you, Sam,” she said softly. “I’m here to help you.”

“What?” he exclaimed, surprised.

“If someone else from The Guild learns that you’re talking to the FBI, they’ll kill you. You need to run away and disappear,” she said quietly, but in a firm tone.

“How?” Sam asked, taken aback. “I don’t even have any money or IDs.”

Celaena looked back at the door, making sure they were alone.

“Let me take care of that. We need to get you out of here right now.”

She dropped his hand, but he took it back, squeezing it.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asked her.

“Do I need a reason to be kind?” she said. “Come on.”

That’s when they heard steps coming their way. Celaena grabbed her stethoscope, putting it over Sam’s chest and acting like she was taking his vitals.

“That looks good,” she told Sam in a confident voice.

The steps stopped at the entrance of the room.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt. I just forgot something.”

She turned around, in complete shock, but trying to keep her face neutral. Rowan was standing in the doorway, looking at them.

“Lillian?” he said, taken aback when he recognized the blonde woman from the bar.

Sam looked between them, terrified Celaena had been caught. But Rowan simply got closer to the bed and gave her a confused look.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, puzzled.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I work here,” she said, letting out a nervous laugh as she pointed to her scrubs.

“But I could ask you the same question, Rowan,” Celaena said, rolling his name on her tongue.

Rowan couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up. He didn’t know why he was happy that she remembered his name, but he was. 

“FBI,” he simply said. “And I forgot my badge.”

He went to the bedside table and grabbed it, putting it safely in his pocket.

“How are you doing?” he asked her, ignoring Sam’s presence.

“I’m doing fine,” she replied with a small smile. “But I really need to take Mr. Cortland to get a CT scan before my boss yells at me.”

“Oh, right,” he said, remembering Sam was there. “I’ll let you go then.”

He walked toward the door, but before leaving, he turned around to look at her.

“See you around?” he asked, hopeful.

“Of course,” Celaena replied, her turquoise eyes glinting.

When she was sure Rowan was truly gone, she turned back to Sam.

“How do you know agent Whitethorn?” he asked her.

“It’s a long story. We don’t have time for this. We need to go.”

She helped him get up from his bed and into a wheelchair.

“Follow my lead,” she simply told him.

Celaena walked outside the room, pushing Sam’s wheelchair. The security guard stopped them.

“Where are you going?” he asked them.

“He needs a CT scan. Doctor’s order,” Celaena replied with a quick smile.

“Nobody warned me,” he said, looking at them suspiciously.

“Well, I’m telling you now. Can we go?”

She was getting impatient. They needed to get out of here.

“Wait a minute, I’ll call someone to take you there,” he told them, grabbing his walkie talkie.

“Oh, no need!” she assured him before he had time to make a call. “It’ll only take like 20 minutes and it’s not very far. We’ll be back as soon as you know it.”

He looked at Sam, who was sitting silently in the wheelchair. The young man gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The security guard pondered the situation for a few seconds before saying: “Well… alright. But be safe.”

“We will, sir,” Celaena replied confidently.

She didn’t waste any more time and rolled Sam away until they reached another corridor. She turned left, then right, then left again. When they were sure they were alone and not being followed, Sam got up from the wheelchair and hid it in an empty room. Celaena grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling him toward the stairs. She knew he was in bad shape, but they couldn’t risk taking the elevator. It was too slow. Lucky for them, Sam’s room was only on the third floor.

She needed to take care of the cameras before leaving. She asked Sam to create a distraction and, when the security guard in the surveillance room got out to see what was happening, Celaena quickly entered the room. She wasn’t a tech genius, but she knew a thing or two about cameras. She deleted any footage of her in the hospital. The guard had left his jacket on the back of his chair and she took it, slipping into the corridor with her head low.

She found Sam hiding a few rooms away, the guard out of sight, and she gave him the jacket. He pulled it on and they left the hospital, trying to keep in the cameras’ blind spots. When they reached the parking lot, Celaena broke into an old car and hot-wired it. She drove out of the hospital’s grounds, keeping an eye out in case anybody was following them. She drove around for a while, taking turns here and there to lose anyone who might be trailing them.

When she was confident they were safe, she drove to her apartment. She helped Sam get out of the car and walk up the stairs. Once they were inside, she locked the door and let out a deep breath. She headed directly to her walk-in closet, unlocking the door and going inside. She found what she was looking for and brought it to Sam who was still standing in the living room in silence.

“Okay, so here are some men clothes I had here, I hope they fit. And here are fake IDs and money,” she said, handing it all to him.

Sam looked at the passport and made a face.

“I don’t look like this guy at all,” he complained.

“Well, you both have brown hair and brown eyes and are about the same age. It will have to do. If anyone asks, your name is Wesley Doyle and you’re 21,” she said assertively.

“How do you even have those IDs?” he asked her.

“Now is not the time for questions, Sam,” she replied, impatient. “You need to leave.”

Sam went into the bathroom to change. The clothes were a bit too big for him, but he could make this work. When he came out, he had a strange look in his eyes.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Run away with me. You’re better than this life,” he pleaded.

Celaena sighed.

“This life is all I’ve ever known, Sam. I can’t throw it all away and just leave. I just can’t,” she replied.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Celaena shut him with a kiss on the cheek. Sam blushed slightly, suddenly quiet.

“Thank you for always being nice to me,” she said in a final tone. “Now leave. And never look back.”

…

Rowan was sitting in his office filling in paperwork. This was the part of the job he hated. He yawned, looking at the time. He had only been doing this for 15 minutes, but it felt like an hour. All of a sudden, his door opened abruptly and Lorcan appeared.

“It’s Cortland,” his boss said without any preamble. “He has disappeared.”

It took a few seconds for Rowan to process what he had said.

“What do you mean, disappeared?” he asked Lorcan, baffled.

“He isn’t in his room anymore. Nobody can find him,” he replied hastily.

“Fuck.”

That was the only response that felt appropriate.

This was bad, really bad. He was their only informant on The Guild and Sardothien, and they had managed to lose sight of him. He knew he should have put more security at his door. Now he was probably dead.

“Fuck,” he repeated, hitting his desk with his fist.

…

Rowan knew he shouldn’t be here. Lorcan would kill him if he knew, but he didn’t care. This was too important. It was a matter of life or death.

“I’d like to talk to a nurse called Lillian, please. I’m not sure about her last name but she works on the third floor I believe,” he said to the hospital’s receptionist. “It’s urgent.”

She gave him a curious look but complied and typed away on her computer. After a few clicks, she said: “I’m sorry but Lillian isn’t working today. I can tell her you stopped by.”

“What do you mean she’s not working today? I saw her earlier,” he replied, irritated.

“I’m only telling you what the log entries say, sir,” said the woman.

Rowan ran his hand through his silver hair. This didn’t make any sense.

“I really need to talk to her,” he insisted. “Do you have her address?”

“Sir, I’m afraid this is confidential information. I can’t just give someone’s address like that,” replied the woman, a bit overwhelmed by his behavior.

“I work for the FBI,” he explained, trying to keep his calm. “She could be in great danger. I really need to see her.”

He showed his badge to the receptionist who looked at it, unsure.

“Come back with a warrant then,” she said.

Rowan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright,” he conceded. “When is her next shift?”

The woman looked back at her computer screen.

“In three days, on Thursday,” she replied.

“Thank you. If you see her before that, tell her Rowan is looking for her,” he said, insisting on the last part.

The woman simply nodded and went back to her work.

He turned back on his heels and exited the hospital. This would have to do, he thought. It’s not like if he had any other choice.

…

The night was dark, the street only lit by the few streetlamps that still worked. Rowan parked his gray sedan next to his apartment and got out of the car, lost in thoughts. He had tried to convince Lorcan that Sardothien was the one who kidnapped Sam Cortland, but his boss didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. He had said that anyone from The Guild could have come for Cortland. He might even have run away by himself, scared for his life. They would ask for the surveillance videos tomorrow and go on from there. But Rowan had a gut feeling that the cameras would have been tempered with. They needed to interrogate the security guard, that was their best bet.

He was so focused on replaying the events of today in his head, he didn’t notice he was being followed. A shadow was trailing him quietly. Next thing he knew he was stabbed in the neck with something long and sharp. He turned around, but all he could see was a dark silhouette a few feet away. He reached for his gun, but his hands weren’t steady enough and his vision was blurry. His whole body was suddenly feeling heavy. The last thing he saw before his vision faded to black were two bright eyes staring into his soul.

...

Tag list:

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@morganofthewildfire

@leiawritesstories

@fireheart-violet

@autumnbabylon

@swankii-art-teacher

@violet-mermaid7

@goldryngalathynius

@ladyofterrasen

@shyvioletcat

@icecream52

@athena127

@mis-lil-red

[llyncooljones]

sing me to sleep - rowaelin yulemas swap.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin masterlist

gifter's note: i really hope you like this, as per your guidelines i tried to keep sexual content and trigger content to a minimum but i seem to be pretty bad at eliminating them entirely. i really hope this level is okay, and the meet-cute is one of your dreams. as someone from the UK it was so fun to write a little british au, and all the tube stuff is painfully accurate! sorry if you had hoped for something a little more festive, or a little longer (exams and being really ill don't mix well with writing over 6k, which is what i had hoped for this au)

merry christmas @thegloweringcastle, hope you enjoy!

word count: 3122

trigger warnings: language, slight sexual innuendo/content

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life  @rowaelinismyotp  @backtobl4ck @fireheartwhitethorn4ever  @elentiyawhitethorn  @rowanaelinn  @autumnbabylon  @leiawritesstories @letstakethedawn @thegloweringcastle @rowaelinyulemasswap

the london underground, commuting time.

Aelin wondered what went through someone’s mind when they decided to fall asleep in public. She couldn’t help but be concerned for both their mental state and their common sense. Because she could swear, hand on her heart, swearing to the fucking gods, that she would never be so stupid.

She kept her thoughts on staying awake, on making sure her eyes remained painfully open, so wide that if she weren’t riding the London Underground, someone might ask if she were okay.

The good news was that she was riding the London Underground, and a could-be-high employee from the office of some obscure marketing company was the most normal thing most of her fellow passengers had seen all day. So, it didn’t matter, even as her eyeballs began to dry, began to hurt, and began to slowly shut.

She blinked herself awake again, she would not become a hypocrite purely because she’d stayed up all night watching the football with her best friends and losing her mind on social media as she trawled through Rowan Whitethorn’s Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok.

As well as his team’s accounts too, and finally the stories and recent posts of his teammates'. she wasn’t particularly proud of herself for the rabbit hole she had fallen into but forgave herself in the name of being human (and a red-blooded woman).

Who in their right mind, and their right sex drive, could stare at that man for his pre-game interview, highlight reel; the ninety-minute match, and the half time ad campaigns; his post-game interview, and celebration, and not find themselves, happy, by the end of it all?

So now she suffered the consequences, on the tube, trying her best to stay awake and not have an explicit dream about the literal man of her dreams. She tried not to think of those hands, and how she knew those thick yet dextrous fingers would know for some reason the exact pressure she needed her head to be massaged at for her to fall asleep.

She didn’t like the fact that her mind couldn’t escape thoughts of how gorgeous his thighs were and how they would feel under her own as she sat across his lap, as they spooned in bed, as she leant against him at one of the numerous fundraisers she would have to attend as a WAG.

And the fundraisers she would host in order to abolish that term because she just longed for it to be gone.

aelin's seat, ten minutes later.

Ten minutes later she was still sat on the tube, now with a numb arse, on the tube. She was warm underneath her coat, and the pinching at her heels because of her new ankle boots was slowly fading. As was her ability to stay awake.

The tube slowed suddenly, the doors opening, people exiting and entering, a vague figure in a baseball cap, with his hoodie hood pulled over his head, and the makings of a tattoo on his hand sitting down next to her, purely the patchwork nature of his sleeve: a collation of lyrics from One Direction songs, and doodles of cats and ammonites making her trust he was somewhat decent enough.

And with the knowledge, she was sat next to a decent-ish man, and someone’s grandma with an ‘I ❤ London’ T-shirt on, she began to debate the actual consequences of falling asleep on the tube because as distant as Londoners were from each other, and as little as they wished to interact with each other, one would surely step in if someone started to do something inappropriate or, illegal.

And if that failed, there had to be an audacious girl on the train who’d grown up loud and proud, and very willing to punch misogynists in the nose. And the throat. And then the genitals.

 Normally, Aelin was that girl, so she hoped positive karma was in the air, and she let her eyes drift closed with a heavy sigh and the thought that Rowan Whitethorn was known for patchwork tattoo sleeves, 1D lyrics, cat doodles, and recreations of the ammonites his grandfather had found on the beach and displayed.

the seat next to aelin's, a few moments earlier.

He hoped, somewhat desperately, that no one recognised him. He wasn’t in the mood, nor the right head space, to deal with fans, or dickheads who thought they could criticise his performance when the last time they had played football was secondary school lunchtimes.

He had slumped to a surprisingly low height in his tube seat, his arse sat on the very edge of the no doubt filthy fabric seats. His AirPods played one of his most random playlists, an amalgamation of songs from friends past and present, from primary school plays to bangers that had dropped during his time at sixth form.

Those two years had been hell, his time split cruelly between the academy at West Ham United, and trying to pass the three A levels he had picked based on ease of passing. But some moments were so clear to his twenty-five-year-old mind that he could hear the music playing in the shopping centre as he and his friends drank from Stella Artois cans, chucking them into the bins as if they were basketball players.

He was hyper-aware of the girl next to him, as the song ended, during the second-long gap between songs, he suddenly heard her slowing breaths, and saw her closed eyes, the slight part to her lips. He was curious as to what colour her lips were exactly, where she had got the little diamond nose stud from, and if he could buy her more in every colour of the rainbow.

As he wondered about her interests, and if she’d be bothered to deal with the bad press that came involving oneself with a football player, she sunk deeper into her sleep. Her head lolling around with each judder of the tube. When they turn a corner somewhat brutally, she fell into him, head whacking against his shoulder joint, and bicep.

He winced, and resisted the urge to push her head away, as it now lolled with each judder against his shoulder. He knew that letting her rest against his left shoulder was a recipe for physical therapy, ice baths, and a thousand and one other things he doesn’t want to do. But more than he doesn’t want to do any of those things, he really doesn’t want to knock her head off his shoulder.

Not only because his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, to be kind and gentle with women when he needed to be, not only because his father had taught him how to ‘woo’ a girl and sweep off her feet (and not put her down until she was in a wedding dress and they were both crossing their front threshold). Mainly because something in her exhaustion called to his.

He hated talking about it to anyone because he felt ungrateful. He got the sense that when he complained about the drain of being a professional football player, about the emotional strain, and the physical abuse of his body, people thought ‘how dare he!’ and only saw the pounds that entered his bank account.

But something in this girl’s freckles, and the waning crescent moons beneath the eyelashes that fluttered with every movement of the underground. And maybe in the vulnerability, she displayed, falling asleep on the tube, her desperation, her willingness to subject herself to the unknown for forty-fucking-winks.

Rowan couldn’t help but ponder the reasons which might have kept her up so late, even as her head dug into the inflamed tissue of his shoulder, and twinges of pain, akin to that of cattle brand, shot down his left arm.

The things he was willing to sit through and suffer for this girl on the tube, with spun gold hair, and a certain je ne sais quoi about her.

But before he can further consider what it is about her that calls out to him in this violent, demands to be seen and heard and tasted on the tongue, he’s receiving a message from his teammate and fellow Stella Artois basketball player, Lorcan.

rowan

did you just get on at stratford?

yes

do you plan to get off at notting hill gate?

yes

are you going to an event there?

no, got plans to meet enda there. we’re having dinner then he’s dropping me back at mine.

good news, otherwise, you have a stalker who is posting about the event you’re currently taking the tube from stratford to notting hill gate to attend an event, from the account rowansbiggestfanevah.

you may want to consider getting off at the next stop. her story already has more than thirty thousand views and she posted it 3 mins ago.

can’t

why

there’s a girl asleep on my shoulder. and she’s snoring really quietly. and she looks like she’s had a really hard day. all exhausted and worried and just precious honestly. don’t have the heart to push her off.

push her off. you’re about to be bombarded, and by my calculations, you’ve got 31 mins left in your journey, bc your phone says you’re halfway between stratford and mile end.

nah, the most that’ll happen is they’ll take pictures bc this is London, and beyond that the London underground. unless there’s an american around here, no one’ll come up to me.

And before you say, I’ve checked, the girl’s scarf and coat cover her face, and the rest is pressed into my shoulder and coat.

which shoulder?

rowan. which shoulder? you better not say the left, you better not. i know that tackle in the second half knocked it, and i know damn well it flared up yesterday after the match. why would you purposefully hurt yourself?

you are exhausting.

the left. and i won’t hear anything more about it. she’s exhausted, and she doesn’t know it’s me, and she’s fucking gorgeous. like gold.

don’t fucking say i didn’t warn you. because i did. i so totally did.

alright taylor, how was growing up on an xmas tree farm?

and don’t hold back, girl, i want—no, need—all of the details!!!

Pulling his cap down lower, and the jacket he had on tighter around himself, he ignored Lorcan’s messages that continued to light up his phone, the vibration an annoying sensation against his stomach, where his phone rested through the fabric of his jacket pocket.

He could see people begin to check their phones, and he braced himself. He felt a little self-centred, thinking that all these people would be somewhat fans of his, or that they would know him, or recognise him. He felt a little self-absorbed thinking only one person on the train was checking their Instagram, and finding out he was on the tube.

But he had accepted that even if he had to fight off an army of crazed West Ham United fans, he would let this woman, whoever the hell she was with the audacity to hurt his heart she was so gorgeous, get her sleep on the train. And then he would take her dinner, in some small, family-owned restaurant that promised privacy, and discrete service.

As a thank you, for existing, or maybe an apology for landing her on the cover of the weekend’s magazines. An olive branch, or an offer. A hint to the way he wanted more with her than he had ever wanted with anyone else. Even if he didn’t know this woman, he felt her. Somewhere deep inside of him, which had remained cold, hard and unfeeling since the death of his parents at eighteen.

He didn’t want to overwhelm her, nor himself, with claims and declarations of love at first sight. And he didn’t want to lie, because the connection they shared was most certainly not love. It couldn’t be. But it was a deep familiarity, a sort of home-feeling when her body had chosen him to fall asleep on.

His body to be so vulnerable with.

But the longer Rowan thought on it, the more curious he became. As he listed all these words and metaphors and similes and equivocal sayings, he thought maybe that when one put them all together, there was an overarching, kind of umbrella term for them.

And he pondered if maybe love at first sight exist, but it couldn’t. Not for two strangers on the tube, one of which was asleep. (Rowan wasn’t known to the public as a creep, but certainly, if mind readers existed, and were on this tube, he would be known to the public by such a moniker.)

He didn’t think too much further about it.

Not as she leant on him, on the tube, and he braced himself against the pain she caused, and braced himself for the influx of passengers, and no doubt West Ham United fans who had seen their Instagram stories, and now knew where to find him.

He didn’t think about how, as a child, he had clambered into bed with his mum and dad, and listened reverently to their stories of finding each other, their meet cute, and their dates. His proposal, their wedding, Rowan’s birth.

And he certainly didn’t imagine little golden-haired children with eyes like pine forests, snuggling into bed with him and this nameless woman (Christ alive, Rowan needed to consult a therapist about this, it couldn’t be normal) as they whispered to their children about how daddy had been on the train, and how mummy had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and how it was the best tube ride of anybody’s life. Ever.

He didn’t. Because that would be fucking creepy of him, and as he mentioned, he wasn’t known as that.

aelin's seat, not much later.

Thickly woven cotton slid against her skin as she roused, her hair falling over her face. The morning light was much too bright as it shone through the room, burning her retinas, and forcing her to turn over in a muscular chest.

The skin was golden, rich like caramel, and soft like the fucking softest thing in the world. Gods, it felt brilliant against her skin, slipping against hers and warming. Her tilted upwards, meeting the awaiting pine eyes of the man she loved, the cute furrow in his thick eyebrows as he watched her sleep.

At first, she had believed him to be a creep, watching her sleep and not seeing anything wrong with it, but since she had seen the light and admitted the behaviour was cute and endearing, (in a creepy way, still).

His tattooed arms encircled her, one sleeve dedicated to his life pre-Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethorn, and another dedicated to his life post- Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethorn. She loved the thought behind each sleeve, and more so she loved the juxtaposition between the monotony of his pre- sleeve, versus the riotous, headache-inducing array of colours on his post- sleeve.

Aelin awoke with a start, her head jerking up only to be pressed back down by a large, strong hand. A hand adorned by rings if the hard points of pressure across her skull were to indicate anything. Her instant reaction was to push against the hand, but try as she might, she could not budge it from her head, nor could she budge her head from the shoulder it was pressed into.

This was karma. This was what she got for trusting the tube enough to fall asleep on it. She didn’t stop fighting, even when her attacker, or restrainer, or whoever the hell it was, leant down to whisper in her ear, “I am doing this for you. There are seven different people on the carriage trying to find me, to photograph me, and if they do, I don’t want your face in it. Because you don’t deserve that, for just falling asleep on my shoulder. “

His voice was smooth and welcoming and calming, and strangely familiar. Aelin couldn’t help but think that she knew this person, so in order to answer her question she asked him, “Uh, who are you? And why the fuck do people want to take your photo?” her tone was accusatory, and she felt bad about it, but said feeling swiftly fell away when she thought of how his hand was holding her head down. She didn’t have anything to feel sorry about.

Nothing!

“Listen, when I tell you this please don’t get at all hyper, or fan girly on me, I don’t think you’ll even know who I am, because you don’t seem the type but, I play football for West Ham United, and my name is Row—”

—Aelin’s ears stopped working, the second the first syllable of his name was uttered, her brain had already begun short-circuiting when he’d mentioned he played football, and an idea had begun to form in her mind of whose shoulder she was pressed against. But when he said West Ham, Aelin almost passed out from shock, she’d been having a fucking dream about the same guy who was sat next to her on the tube, who she had fallen asleep on, and who was the reason she had fallen asleep in the first place because she’d been up all-night thirsting over him and his teammates.

But when the R, and the O, and the W of his name left his mouth, Aelin was sure she’d become paralytic, her arms seemed to go limp, and she fell even deeper into his coat, and she might have even drooled.

“—take you to dinner to apologise for all of this, I know this wasn’t what you signed up for tonight, on your commute. And, again, I’d like to apologise for it all, with more than just my words. They tend to seem quite sad compared to all the other things I could do, with all my amassed wealth and that.” He was trying to sound cool, even to Aelin’s quite distracted ears, she could tell. She found it endearing, and cute and sweet and quite adorable.

Made her want to pinch his cheeks like a grandma, like she knew him. Which she supposed she did, she knew every detail about him that could be known, but maybe she wouldn’t share that just yet. Because it might scare him off, and she didn’t want that. No, not at all.

So instead, she put on her own, faux-cool, tone and responded as if she were merely curious, not restraining herself from shoving her hands under his coat and feeling that smooth skin she’d dreamt about.

“Dinner?” is how it came out.

And he responded, “Yeah, I don’t know when you’re free so: tell me your number?”

She did, she watched as he entered it into his contact list, of only fifty people. She liked that.

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[tomtenadia]

Check my heart - ch 4

hello all,

here we are with ch 4...

CW: panic attacks

Ten more days had elapsed and the Hawks had returned from summer camp. Rowan had met with all of them on their first practice day but coach Gavriel had kept him aside and they had followed together a much lighter training routine. While in the changing room he had kept his headphones on and listened to music and that settled him, but as soon as he removed them and stepped on the ice and saw the team training, his heart started racing. He watched Aedion crash against the boards and he flinched at the sound of his body smacking hard against the signs. 

On that day he was in his finest suit and the team was holding a press conference and then a fan meet-up on the ice. 

Elide met him half-way through the conference room “hey, you ready? We can’t have the captain hiding.”

“Yeah,” he said very quietly.

“Ro, the press will go bonkers at seeing you again. Just remember to breath and just tell them that recovery is going well and that you will be at the friendly game with Perranth.”

He took a deep breath to relax his nerves.

“Baby and I root for you.”

She then disappeared and Rowan forced his feet to move towards the news room where his team was likely waiting for him.

In the room he found his team all dressed impeccably “here you are, we were just waiting for you,” Gavriel reached him and patted his shoulder then he turned to his team “ok, none of us like press conferences but we have to. We do this and then have fun with the fans on the ice.”

“I am offended,” added Elide with a smile “I organise these interviews and all you want to do is go back on the ice.”

Lorcan walked to his wife “it’s what we do best,” a soft kiss on her head.”Go, you overgrown brutes.”

*

Aelin sat down on one of the seats that Elide had reserved for her and a moment later a woman with dark hair landed at her side “tell me again why are we watching a press conference for the hockey team?”

“Lys, Elide invited me and you try and say no to a pregnant woman.”

Lysandra was another figure skating coach. She had been a figure skater too but had retired a few years prior after she had denounced her partner Hamel. They were a figure skating pair and were quite successful, but he had wanted more and had started becoming violent. She denounced him and in the end he got kicked out, but no one else seemed to want to skate with her so in the end she retired and Aelin offered her a job as coach for the pairs they had in their team.

“So, any cute player?”

Aelin shrugged “I only know Whitethorn, Lorcan and Aedion of course.”

“Oh yes, the captain, you two have spent a lot of time on the ice.”

“Just training.”

Silence fell and the team walked in and the flashes of the cameras started to go off wildly.

Lorcan walked in first, followed by Aedion and then the rest of the team. Rowan came in last and that’s when the reporters went mad all trying to snatch a photo of the elusive captain.

Aelin waved at her cousin Aedion and he smiled back at her.

“Who is the blonde guy?”

“Which one?”

“The one beside Lorcan.”

Aelin chuckled “that’s Aedion, he is my cousin.”

Lysandra turned to her friend in shock “you have a cousin in the THL and never told me?”

“We don’t see each other much, we are both so busy and you know I don’t follow anything hockey related.”

“Well, we could start watching it for the hot guys.”

“Aedion is single if you are interested.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

Aelin followed Rowan sit in the centre of the team formation. Coach Gavriel made a speech and introduced again the team. He looked nervous and uncomfortable. During the past ten days they had been training together more regularly. He had admitted that the varied training was helping with his form too. She had taught him some more basic jumps and he had shown her a few more aspects of the game but she still found hockey super confusing.

She listened to the reporters ask all sorts of questions to Rowan about his accident, the recovery and his training. Gavriel filtered some of them when Rowan refused to answer and she could see that he was struggling. She knew how he felt, the sensation of anguish, of panic rising and the memories of the pain coming back. Aelin had noticed that the music had helped him to relax during their training sessions and that had been her salvation. Music had helped her go back on the ice and face the fear.

“So captain, does this mean you will be ready for the pre-season game against Perranth?”

She saw Rowan nod “yes, as I said, I have been training during the summer.”

“Your injury was quite severe, do you think you are fit to go back?” Asked another reporter.

Rowan froze and then stood abruptly, abandoning the conference room.

“Stay here.” She said to Lys and ran after him.

She found Rowan in the Hawks changing room, sat on the bench hunched over with his head in his hands.

“Rowan.”

At her voice he looked up and she knew he was having a panic attack.

“I can’t.” He breathed “Aelin, I…”

She sat on the bench at his side “breath in…. And out. Slowly.”

Rowan did as told and she noticed his hands relax the fists “good.”

“I hated reporters too.” She confessed leaning back against the wall “once one had the guts to tell me that some of my landing on that day had been sloppy.”

“I had been competing with 39C fever that I had hidden from my coach. I was so unwell, but I still wanted to compete and I made second.”

Rowan turned his head “you competed with a fever?”

“I know, the moment my arse was back in the changing room I fainted. Not my brightest moment.”

She heard a chuckle coming from his lips and hoped that with than silly story she had helped “don’t tell me that you have never competed with an injury?”

“Once during training in my slacks I fell and cut my leg. I sneakily treated it and hid it from the coach. It was painful and the edge of the skates was murder. I played one of my worst game ever and I caught so much grief from coach.”

Rowan let out a deep sigh “Elide is going to kill me, and then Lorcan is going to bring me back to life and kill me again for upsetting his pregnant wife.”

Aelin chuckled “Elide is scary on a normal day, but pregnant and hormonal Elide is verging on terrifying.”

A pause “do you feel better?”

“Thanks.”

They remained in silence sitting side by side until they heard the sounds of the team returning. It was the time for the big shindig with the public and they had to change and get ready “I’ll be out there with Lys and Elide.”

She winked at him and disappeared.

As he expected coach gave him grief for running away, but Rowan explained that he had grown tired of people questioning him about his injury. Gavriel had quickly dismissed him and ordered him to get ready for the public.

Rowan went to his cubby and started changing.

He listened to the chatter of his team in the background and laughed at Fenrys admitting he had to primp up for the fans. Rowan had his fans, but Fenrys was the one really adored by the crowds. The goalie had also a reputation of collecting puck bunnies as if they were trophies. He was adored by the masses and was the one team member who loved the attention of the reporters. He and Lorcan were the two most introvert of the team. 

He wore his full gear and his jersey and he waited for the spark of excitement before a game but nothing happened. Before heading out he looked at his phone and saw a text from his dad saying that he was there with his mum and Maya. That cheered him instantly.

Fenrys stood on the door  of the tunnel and bumped fists with everyone. It was their ritual. His team filed through, then it was Lorcan’s turn and finally him “Hey cap, let’s have a fun day, okay?”

Rowan nodded and bumped his fist against Fen’s big goalie pads.

As soon as he stepped on the ice a roar of voice echoed in the arena. The tickets for the special event had sold out quickly. He turned around and waved at the public and smiled when he saw his mum and dad and Maya in the VIP seats right behind the benches. Of course his dad had pulled all the stops to get special seats even for an event like this. During the regular season he would always   watch the games from there and Maya and his mum where always accompanying him. 

He waved at the public like his team mates and he laughed when he saw Fenrys bowing to the public like a proper diva. The man loved the spotlight.

He removed his caged helmet and stepped forward, letting his blonde hair flow “welcome Orynth to our annual pre season special night. Are you ready to have some fun?”

The crowd screamed yes and Fenrys encouraged them to get louder.

“First of all, let’s all welcome back our captain,” he skated to Rowan and pushed him forward “He is a bit shy, but he is happy to be here.”

Rowan waved, but his gaze never left Maya. She had a big sign reading Rowan is my dad! And the number 43 below it. She was cute and his heart melted at the sight. 

“And look at the little one supporting her father,” Fenrys took a step forward and went to the benches signalling to Alasdair to bring Maya down to him. Rowan glared at Fenrys but the man was on a roll. 

Fenrys took Maya from her grandfather and took both of them on the ice.

When the little girl reached her dad the crowd went wild.

*

Aelin watched from the seats with Elide and Lysandra “Maya is such a cutie patootie.”

“Oh look at you, brooding already.” Added Elide swooning.

Aelin had a burning question to ask but was not sure if she could. She was curious about the mother. When Rowan was not available it had been Alasdair to come and pick up the little girl but she never saw a mother figure. 

“El, can I ask you something?”

The woman nodded.

“What about Maya’s mum? It’s either Rowan or his parents to pick her up or drop her off.”

Elide froze at her side “That is not my story to tell, Ae.”

“But you know.”

She scoffed “not only I am the PR manager, I am also Lorcan’s wife and he is Rowan’s best friend.” She explained “while you avoid all things hockey, I know all of them quite well. If Rowan wants to tell you he will, but I am not betraying any confidence.”

“Darn, I was looking forward to some gossip.”

Elide ignored her and went back watching what was happening on the ice. The Hawks had split in two teams and were playing a short game for the fans.

Aelin watched carefully trying to figure out the game.

“They usually don’t play 3 on 3.” Explained Elide “there are usually 5 men on the ice and the goalie and a lot more on the bench to cover and switch throughout the game.”

Aelin was confused “They have lines and shifts. Each line works in shorts shifts. You will see guys skating to the bench and climb in while another climbs out. In hockey you have unlimited changes.”

“Confusing.”

Elide shook her head “they can’t stay on the ice too long. It’s very demanding and they need to rest.”

“Oh, poor babies.” Added Aelin in mockery but Elide did not appreciate.

“Ae, it’s very demanding. Lorcan is shattered after a few back to back games. You should really come and watch a game.”

“No thanks, this one is enough for me.”

Elide let out a frustrated breath “Ae, just because at uni you dated an idiot of an hockey player in Adarlan, does not mean they are all like that. Chaol was a jerk and then got his when the was demoted to a minor league.”

“All I heard for two years was hockey, hockey and bloody more hockey. He loved the sport more than me. The bastard almost never came to see me compete.”

“I know, but they are not all of them like that,” she nodded to Fen “well, maybe him, but he has his types and he is always very clear that he is not interested in anything serious. “

“What about Aedion?’ Asked Lysandra who had been silent at their sides watching the game transfixed, her eyes on the blonde player “he seems like a decent man.”

Elide smiled “Aeds is a true gentleman.”

Lys clapped her hands “Any chance I can meet him? I want to shake those big hands of his.”

Aelin turned at her friend with a disgusted face “Lys, he is my cousin and you made that sentence sound so dirty.”

“Because it was…”

Aelin fell silent on her seat and tried to watch the game unfolding in front of her. Maybe Elide was right. Maybe she was stubborn for nothing and letting Chaol’s behaviour affect her opinion on hockey.

“Fine El, can you get me a ticket for the Perranth game?”

Her friend smiled “Oh, us three ladies are going to sit right behind the bench and have fun.”

Aelin took a deep breath and tried to believe her friend.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn  @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle @yashiw @renxzs  @aelin-gods-killer

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 12

I’m dedicating this chapter to @taylorswift because today is Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) day. In the album’s honor, Rowan’s getting Aelin with those green eyes baby as the lights go down and giving something that’ll haunt her when he’s not around lmao

Warnings: language, NSFW

Words: 4,2K

Aelin was very close to murdering the next person who dared say she was glowing.

She didn’t feel like glowing when she was suspended from the OR until she got back from maternity leave—and no, Rowan had no idea the reason that happened was because she almost passed out mid-surgery.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had fatigue and back pain most of the time.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had a monthiversary to attend and a belly too big to wear something cute. Aelin frowned at the maternity towel she was wearing. Even those had to be in a whole new size for her.

Groaning, she sat on the bed. She’d meet the Whitethorns once again at the monthly birthday party Sellene threw to her daughter, and the only thing Aelin wanted was to look nice. It was so easy a few months ago, but a nightmare now that none of her cute clothes would fit, and even her Crocs felt like rubber socks because of her swollen feet. Crocs. Her discomfort while pregnant was so big she surrendered to the ugliest shoes imaginable.

Aelin’s preferred thing to wear at home was the biggest dress she could find. Period. Pants became a nuisance when she was peeing more often than not. At least she was in her own house now—the fourth one Aelin lived in since finding out about the pregnancy—and could be grouchy all she wanted.

She stared at her open closet, but wasn’t really looking at it. Just letting the hollowness in her chest take over.

Three knocks on her bedroom door. “Are you ready?”

Aelin groaned. “I don’t wanna go.”

“Oh, thank God.” Rowan’s shoulders dropped, and he immediately texted his cousin while rambled, “I get celebrating milestones, but who in their right mind would invite every Whitethorn in this city to their house every month? Who’s benefiting from those parties?“

Aelin snorted. “Not you.”

“Definitely not me.” He pocketed his phone and sat on the bed by her side. “Alright, now why don’t you want to go?”

She crossed her arms over her belly. “My nice clothes are too small.”

“What?” Rowan asked as if that observation was absurd. “What about the White Hawks jersey you stole from me? I bet that’s the nicest thing you own, pregnancy-sized or not.”

”Not funny.” She only borrowed that out of necessity. Aelin gave him a long look, then looked down at her bump. “I look like I have a watermelon strapped to myself.”

“What about it?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you being serious right now?”

She wasn’t upset just because of the belly. It just added up to the stretch marks, the limited options of clothes, the constant pain, the insomnia—

“What? I—“ Rowan leaned closer to her, looking lost. “What do you want me to say, Aelin? Of course you’re bigger. You’re carrying my baby. That doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you were before.” He caressed her shoulder, eyes roaming through her body as they got a little darker. “In fact…”

“What?” She asked, quickly enthralled by his eyes and hand on her.

Rowan leaned his forehead against her with his eyes closed and whispered, “Do you need me to show you how attractive you still are?”

Aelin licked her lips, trying to think of something to say as the pleasant tingling in her body took over and clouded her thoughts.

He cupped her cheek. “Say yes.”

“Please.”

He took her mouth, kissing her in a gentle and urgent manner at the same time. With her arms wrapped around him, Aelin opened up for him and swirled her tongue around his, making him groan.

She tugged at his clothes. Rowan broke the kiss and complied, but not without taking her towel off as well. He took her in, languid eyes assessing her body and making her shiver with his hungry gaze.

Rowan laid next to her and leaned in for another long kiss, and Aelin’s heart was as strong as her knees got weak. He trailed gentle kisses down her breasts, the dark line on her stomach, the stretch marks on her hips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against her bump, caressing it with his eyes closed.

Aelin’s heart skipped a beat. There were three words she felt a lot like screaming, but her tongue seemed tangled in knots when she opened her mouth.

The hand on her bump slid to her folds, making her breath hitch. Rowan kissed his way down until his mouth reached her clit, and—

She groaned. Not a good groan.

His head popped over her belly. “What?”

“I can’t see you down there.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “And you don’t like it.”

”Well, I do like it.” Aelin sat on the bed and tried to look as reassuring as she could. “But I want you, not some ghost pussy-eater—“

“A what?” He asked with widened eyes, his face somewhere between confusion and amusement.

Aelin’s mouth opened and closed as she thought about what came out of her mouth a second ago. “Shut up.”

Rowan chuckled and laid down beside her on the bed, spooning her close as his hand sneaked down her front. “Is this better?”

“Perfect.” Aelin’s breath hitched when he touched her again, her body filled with warmth. “You can also fuck me like this, you know?”

“What if…” he trailed, putting the engines inside his brain to work. “I didn’t?”

Aelin’s face faltered. “What.”

He looked pained beside her. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“Ro…” Aelin turned around to face him and clamped her lips together, trying to take him seriously. “After all the pregnancy books you read, I can’t believe you’re worried about this.”

“I know how you like things. It’s not cervix-friendly.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And I don’t want the baby to be born with a sunken forehead.”

She couldn’t do it anymore. Aelin took off the invisible seal on her mouth and let out a loud cackle, laughing into his shoulder. From the way it was shaking too, he didn’t seem too upset.

Looking up, she stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Do you know what you’re being right now?”

The smile he wore lit her up from inside out. “A big Buzzard?”

“The biggest of all Buzzards,” she muttered into his lips.

Rowan didn’t reply, he just held her face and kissed her again. It started sweet, with his lips brushing against hers while he caressed her everywhere he could, but he couldn’t control the level of heat after her tongue was in. Aelin brushed her hands over his abs while giving long, fervent kisses.

She whimpered when he got to her neck. “I miss your weight on me.”

Rowan moved them so he was spooning her now. Her belly was too big for him to be comfortably over her, so this was their best option now.

“Is this okay?” He asked against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“Perfect,” she breathed when his hand met her folds, stroking before he pressed against her clit. She moaned, intoxicated by his heat spreading under her skin.

Rowan plunged one finger in and then another, making her grind against his fingers. His voice sounded nearly broken when he said, “You’re so wet, I could—“

“Do it.”

He adjusted Aelin’s legs in one swift motion and thrust inside her in another, making her a whimpering mess while he worked her open from behind. Rowan trailed kisses on the side of her neck and teased her breast as he set a rhythm. Aelin was squirming, feeling like she was bursting and drowning with pleasure at the same time.

Rowan fucked her in a languid pace, purring sweet nothings about how pretty she looked and how well she was taking his cock. Aelin's nerves were on fire, and she completely lost sense of composure when his hand went back to her clit.

He wasn’t slapping her ass while sinking so deep she struggled to stay upright, but Aelin liked soft Rowan. She liked this very much.

Her walls clenched around his cock, making his thrusts get erratic and harder than he was previously doing, and that’s what made her go over the edge. Aelin cried out his name, pulsing while shockwaves gripped her body. The noises he was making became strangled, before Rowan thrust one last time and came undone behind her.

He trailed a few kisses from her neck to her shoulder and sank into the mattress, still hugging her close. However, Aelin took two deep breaths and got up as fast as she could.

“Where are you going?” He asked, frowning.

“Squashed bladder!” She called over her shoulder while waddling her way to her suite’s bathroom.

Aelin sat on the toilet, feeling the relief that was just partially because of her bladder getting empty. She closed her eyes. Her heart was leaping, somersaulting inside her fluttering chest. This was good, one step closer to where she wanted to get. Things got too domestic, too cozy for it to be with her platonic co-parent she had non-platonic feelings for. She couldn’t take the friendship arrangement much longer.

Aelin‘s heart stopped when she saw blood on her toitet paper, but relaxed again when she noticed it was very faint and browinsh. Just a little spotting. She’d keep an eye on it, but it was a common thing during pregnancy. Especially after having sex. She smiled at the thought, still a little giddy.

Back on the bed, she didn’t bother getting dressed again before sinking into Rowan’s embrace.

“Everything okay?” He asked while stroking her hair.

She snuggled into him. “Sure thing.”

“I didn’t hurt you? The baby feels alright? Because I read pregnancy sex can hurt—“

“I’m great, Buzzard.” Aelin snorted. “Just a little spotting, but it’s fine.”

Rowan jumped into a sitting position. “You’re bleeding?”

“What? No!”

“I know what spotting is. It’s blood.”

“Rowan, calm down.” She tugged on his arm until he was laid down with her again, but it did nothing to loosen those tight shoulders of his. “It’s a normal thing, but I’ll keep an eye on it, okay? If it continues or if anything else happens, I’ll let you know.”

His eyes looked anguished when he asked, “You promise?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course.”

“Because you don’t tell me things sometimes. I hate it.”

“Buzzard,” she teased.

They stayed there for a moment, studying each other. She rubbed his frown with her thumb, making him give her a faint smile.

“Aelin, I—“ he sighed into her hair. “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

She blinked, slowly processing how her heart sank with his words. Did ‘anymore’ mean ‘while you’re pregnant’ or ‘ever again’?

“Is it because of the spotting?”

He hugged her tighter. “I don’t wanna take risks with the baby.”

“Of course,” was her only reply. She was a little numb, and didn’t know what to think.

If Rowan meant they shouldn’t take risks by starting a relationship and reinforced the reason they decided to stay friends, she was screwed.

If Rowan meant they wouldn’t be having sex while she was pregnant, Aelin would need to wait at least a month after birth to seduce him into being with her.

At least the orgasm made her drowsy enough to sleep.

˜˜

Aelin Galathynius was a woman of many vices.

Her biggest one? Chocolate.

Today, it started when she craved a little dessert after lunch, just to find out her fridge was empty of sweets. And her stash of chocolate. Also the secret stash in her closet as well. If the drawer Maisie hid the sweets she stole was empty too, Aelin would be lost.

Her chest got a little tighter when she reached Maisie’s room. The little girl was staying at her dad’s this weekend, and Aelin missed her sweet tooth buddy and occasional chocolate thief.

When Rowan texted last Friday night to let her know there was some unexplained chocolate in Maisie’s backpack, Aelin didn’t think her daughter would take all the sweets and leave her high and dry. But from the lack of illicit food in Maisie’s usual hiding places, it sounded like Aelin didn’t know her daughter at all.

That’s okay, she could be mature about this. She could get her car keys and go to the convenience store for more variety, or walk one block to the playground and hope she’d find something nice at the vending machine. But what she could no longer do is deny herself a woman’s greatest desire.

After putting sunscreen and her sandals on, Aelin faced the short walk to the park. That unforgiving sun burned her shoulders the entire time, and it was a relief when she noticed the trees were shading some of the benches.

There was a shift in Aelin’s mood the moment she got to the vending machine. Reese’s! The selection was good today—

Aelin jerked when she felt something poking her leg, but relaxed again when she saw it was just Maisie. Frowning.

“Hey, Mais. I didn’t see you there.”

Aelin didn’t get her usual warm greeting, though. The little girl had her Whitethorn frown on. “You didn’t say ‘hi’ when you got here.”

“Honey, I didn’t know you were here. I’m so sorry.”

Aelin’s heart twisted with guilt, but she peppered Maisie’s face with kisses until that little pout gave space to a giggle.

“I’m playing basketball with Daddy and the other big people.”

They weren’t in the playground, then. That explained why Aelin didn’t see her. She crouched down and playfully squinted her eyes at her little girl. “Well, I am here because my chocolate went missing.”

“Intwesting.” Maisie narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Because you told me there was none.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes back. It was a battle of wills now, and neither of them would give in. Forcing Maisie to admit she took Aelin’s chocolate from the secret stash would mean admitting there was a secret stash to begin with. Not an option right now.

Aelin’s shoulders dropped in resignation. She refused to fight with her five-year-old daughter over chocolate. “Anyway, I’m buying more. Want some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up like a Yulemas tree. “Yes!”

She chuckled and let Mais pick some. Aelin hid some of her sweets just to control the kid’s sugar intake and Rowan’s complaints about it, but it’d be cruel to buy some for herself in front of her daughter and not share.

It was nice, having some mother-daughter bonding time over chocolate and gummy bears. The shaded bench they found almost made Aelin forget how hot today was.

“I’m gonna miss this candy so much.” Maisie had her eyes blissfully closed and let out a sigh of delight. “We need to go back to the candy machine.”

Yep, this kid was Aelin’s. No mistakes there.

She playfully pinched Maisie’s side, making her squeal. “What would your father think of that?”

“Nothing, because he’s not here.”

“That’s…“ genius. So accurate. Aelin’s mouth hung open for a beat. Who raised this smarty-pants? She shook the idea off her head. “nope. We can’t do that. Let’s go find your dad.”

Maisie took the remaining chocolate, but then extended her hand back to Aelin. “Do your girl pants have pockets today?”

She gave a saucy wink, making the little girl giggle. “Sure thing, hun.”

They found Rowan at the small field, playing basketball with Lorcan and a few other neighbors they weren’t exactly friends with, but were often around here on weekends too.

Rowan was playing shirtless. His ripped back flexed as he picked up Charlie so the boy could reach the hoop and score a point. Something about him shirtless and teaching little kids how to play basketball gave her a flutter in the chest, and a wildfire in lower places than she was willing to admit.

His sweaty, bronze skin was gleaming under the Doranellian sun, and the way it highlighted his six pack and pecs was absolutely maddening. Aelin’s heartbeat stopped and came back at full speed. Rowan was running, working those burly thighs and showing some side muscles she learned about in med school, but could swear were myths. Looking at him like that, Aelin felt on fire, off-balance, out of breath.

˜˜

“And what did you do?” Yrene asked.

“I didn’t stay to play, if that’s what you’re asking. You know damn well I wouldn’t be looking at the ball.”

Her therapist tried and failed to hide a chuckle. “I just don’t understand why you’re upset over this.”

“Yrene, that game was obscene. You should’ve seen the other moms ogling him.”

“Taking his shirt off was understandable, given the weather.”

Aelin decided to mimic him with one hand. “Oh, it’s me, Rowan! Look at my shiny abs as I play basketball with little kids!” She looked at his hand as if it offended her, but continued. “I just love to tease everyone in this family-oriented park!”

Yrene leaned back on her chair, head tilted. “Is that how you see his point of view?”

“Alright.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking away. “Maybe I felt personally attacked by Rowan’s abs.”

“And why’s that?”

“Do you really want me to get graphic here? Voice every thought I had?”

She snorted. “That’s up to you. I’m literally your therapist.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “This is all your fault.”

Knowing all of Aelin’s mechanisms or whatever shrinks call it, Yrene leaned closer to Aelin, eyes glinting with hidden amusement and hands under her chin. “How so?”

“I’ve got my therapy, family therapy, all this quality time, now Dr. Blackbeak’s finally lowering my dose of the antidepressants. Things are so much better and…” Aelin looked away and swallowed. Things were better, and the only thing getting worse was the huge lump in the throat she got as a side effect. “all of this got me thinking about how things would’ve looked like if I hadn’t left.”

”You always tell me you two were never in a relationship.”

That fact was just another reason she felt like her heart was being squeezed lately. “It’s complicated.”

”No matter what label you used, you need to remind yourself that—“

“I did my best in the situation I was given, I know,” Aelin repeated that motto in a tight tone and ran a hand through her hair. “I knew there was no coming back when I did that.”

Yrene tilted her head. ”Are you speaking for yourself? Because you can’t decide that on Rowan’s behalf.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “You’re onto something.”

“I’m not onto anything.” She chuckled. A schemer’s chuckle. Or just a chuckle from someone who Aelin mindlessly blamed when she was called out. Yrene continued, “You told me an obstacle, and I’m questioning if it’s real.” She checked the time on her computer screen. “And our time’s up. Same time next week?”

Aelin said her goodbyes and got up. The session’s time was up, but she knew that whatever she chose to do about these old feelings, she first had to figure out how he felt about it all.

She just needed to start with the harder part. Wonderful.

Rowan, who decided to be her therapy escort when he found out her sessions happened on his free afternoons, was sat in the waiting room, reading a book and wearing… glasses?

“What are those?” Aelin blurted.

She had asked him to go to the eye doctor a couple of months ago, but assumed he had forgotten about his promise.

Rowan jerked on the chair. “What?”

“On your face.”

“Glasses?” He took them off and studied the thing too. “I got them a while ago. Turns out they’re great for reading.”

“Huh,” was all Aelin could muster. She blinked and thanked Mala when he closed the book and didn’t put them back. Yrene had another patient now, Aelin couldn’t go back and open another Pandora box about how good he looked with rounded glasses.

“Hey.” Rowan got up and took her wrist, stroking it in circling motions with his thumb. “Did it go well?”

“Perfect.”

Aelin smiled as if she hadn’t paid good money to vent about how slutty he looked last weekend.

˜˜

It was near impossible to shut her mind off during the short drive to Maisie’s school. The hardest part is that they were going to the theater with Sellene’s daughter after. It was a play meant for children, but Aelin really wanted to be able to pay attention to The Little Mermaid tonight. A classic is a classic.

Aelin got out of the car in the packed parking lot, feeling the wind tug at her clothes. It’d take them longer than usual to leave today, considering they were taking Breanna without Sellene there. She could always trust Rowan to pick the school with the toughest security measures.

They walked side by side, children and their parents‘ chattering as their background noise. Rowan looked good with loosened shoulders and no frown in sight. He wasn’t wearing a smile—a view reserved almost exclusively for his family—but she knew his lips would tug up the second he saw Maisie.

It’d be so weird to show up six years after they last hooked up asking how he felt about her. Especially when they’d still talk to each other the other day. She needed to listen to the signs before acting, but it was so hard sometimes.

Rowan was a practical person. He could’ve decided to accompany her to therapy because it was close to Maisie’s school and they’d both need to go there after. His decision could be motivated by an undying love for the mother of his child, or something as romantic as reducing carbon monoxide emissions. And Rowan did care about carbon monoxide. He said so the night they met.

Even if he really cared about her, she was the other half of his little broken family. Wishing her well was no indication of romantic feelings.

Aelin shoved her thoughts aside when she saw Maisie and Bree coming her way, and crouched for the crushing hug that was coming. Those small bodies combined almost knocked her down on the floor, but Aelin wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mommy!” Maisie yelled, “Did you know Bree’s never been to the Peter?”

“The theater, Mais,” Rowan corrected around a chuckle.

Aelin caressed the girl’s pale blonde hair. “Is that right, Bree?”

She gave a shy nod, making her smile. Holy rutting Mala, those strong Whitethorn genes. When they were side-by-side and wearing the same uniform like this, Sellene’s daughter looked like Maisie’s shy twin.

“You’re gonna love the Peter, Bree!” Her daughter yelled and flailed her arms around, filled with excitement. “The screen has a huge hole where the people go.”

“Calm down, you two.” Rowan playfully tugged at Maisie’s pigtails. “The play is just next week.”

“No, it’s not.” Aelin turned to Rowan and tilted her head. “I checked the tickets this morning. It’s definitely today.”

“Aelin, she can’t go.” He lowered his voice. “Her flu shot, remember?”

“Are you talking about the flu shot she got last week?”

“This one exactly.” He crossed his arms, giving her a hard look. “It has a two-week immunity window—“

Aelin mirrored his expression, feeling her muscles tighten. “I’m a doctor, I’m aware—“

“And I’m not putting Maisie in a theater with hundreds of kids without being sure that—“

“I want to see Ariel!” The little girl’s wail interrupted them. Her face was reddened already and filled with tears, and Breanna was on her side, whispering anything a five-year-old deemed soothing.

“We are.” She gave Rowan a hard look and crouched next to Maisie, caressing the little girl’s head. ”That’s just your father being your father. He’s been careful like that with you since you were inside my belly, did you know that?”

Maisie shook her head and sniffed. Well, that was on Aelin. She didn’t talk much about the time she was pregnant, but she’d do anything to make her little girl smile.

“Do you know what I’d call him back then?” A pause to spark Maisie’s interest. “A Buzzard.”

“Like the bird?”

“You’re right.“ With her index finger, Aelin mimicked the animal with sweeping movements around Maisie’s head. “That bird that keeps flying close by, watching you all the time.”

Aelin watched her daughter expectantly, waiting until her brain made the right connections. Maisie perked up a beat later, her pine-green eyes slowly widening.

“That’s Daddy!” She turned to her father, pointed a finger at him and shouted, “Buzzard!”

Aelin was chuckling at Maisie’s newfound source of excitement, trying to bury the weight in her chest, when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t say a word, just let Maisie repeat the nickname over and over around him as he vacantly stared at Aelin. Her face faltered. He swallowed, and his gaze on her was so intense she looked away.

That was so tone-deaf of her, and Rowan clearly didn’t like it. Just because Aelin was reminiscing these days, didn’t mean he wanted that too.

“Come on, Bree.” Aelin tugged on the girl’s hand. “Let’s see how long it takes before your teacher lets you leave without your mom here.”

You can get notifications when I update by either following me on @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@sarahjswift

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[shyvioletcat]

SNIPPET - I Wish You Would

As is the story of my life these past few weeks, everything is coming along very slowly. And I have some adult responsibilities this weekend cleaning the entire house for a rental inspection so I don’t think this will be ready just yet. But to keep myself entertained and interest up, I have another snippet for you:

~~~~~

“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 this would just be 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, word laced with sarcasm. “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.

[leiawritesstories]

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

Aelin Galathynius had a hand in just about every illegal dealing in all of Terrasen. Weapons, drugs, organized crime, the black market, blackmail, assassination, coercion, bribery–you name it, she was almost definitely connected to it. The only problem? Nobody could prove it. 

Rowan Whitethorn, fresh out of Terrasen’s elite special forces academy–known only as Doranelle for secrecy–was convinced he could unmask Aelin Galathynius. So convinced, in fact, that he’d managed to obtain special orders from his commander to do just that. The only problem? He had exactly three hundred and sixty-five days. If he couldn’t prove Aelin Galathynius guilty in one year’s time, he’d be booted down to corporal in disgrace. 

Something neither Aelin nor Rowan could have expected, though, was each other. When their paths cross–and oh, their paths will cross–who will come out ahead?

Coming Soon...

TAGS: please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz