#Aelin and Rowan

[cludiaa]

Pls not me realising that I forgot to post this here 💀

Anyway may I offer you some Aelin and Rowan

[sofiasjornal]

Rowan fell to his knees before her, putting his head in her lap as his arms wrapped around her waist. "I can't bear it, Aelin. I can't."

And with this I found that there’s a point when your body runs out of water and you can’t cry anymore 😭😭😭

[harperbrynne]

Aelin and Rowan appearing in Prythian with several bags:

Rhys: You came from another world.

Aelin: Yes. *wipes sweat from forehead* We’ve been jumping from world to world for what feels like hours.

Rhys: And you are seeking refuge here?

Aelin: Oh, no, we’re looking to have a vacation. Is this the world to do it in?

[acourtofquestions]

How is rowaelin already every romantic trope in one before they even have their first kiss?🫶😂👏

[throneofglassfan]

Hey i love reading throne of glass and fourth wing fanfictions so pls tell me if you have some good and spicy fanfictions you would recommend. one of my personal favorite fanfiction writer is @mariaofdoranelle she is really good. i love tumblr

[leiawritesstories]

over my heart

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompt: "Acceptance"

word count: 700

warnings: discussions of grief, tw: tattoo needles

*monty python narrator voice* and now for something completely different...enjoy!

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

Except for the consultation, neither of them had spoken. Instead, the steady low thrum of the tattoo needle's buzzing filled the cool, dry air, covering the background hum of the shop's air conditioning. The sign in the window had been flipped to "CLOSED" hours ago, but after business hours was the only time Rowan had wanted to come in for his appointment.

It was easier if there was no one else around.

Over the phone, the tattoo artist had initially hesitated, but Rowan was a close friend and she understood his need to be alone. They had traded emails with her initial sketches based on his descriptions of what he wanted, and she'd finally refined the design to fit his vision and agreed to have him come in that quiet Thursday night. Although her shop faced one of the main streets of downtown Orynth, it was a few blocks away from the popular cluster of bars and late-night shops, so there were typically very few people who walked past the shop after dark.

His eyes were closed, and he breathed rhythmically but not too deeply as she worked, bent over his torso. It would be best if you didn't inhale too deeply, since the tattoo will be on your ribs, she'd explained. Her black-gloved hands were steady, and her bright blue eyes were focused sharply on the path of her tattoo needle as it traced precise lines into her client's skin. He'd barely moved since they finished the consultation and she prompted him to get comfortable for the tattoo, and she would have worried that he'd passed out if she didn't know Rowan Whitethorn better than that.

The man could be as impassive as granite when he wanted to be, and now was clearly one of those times. She couldn't blame him---many of her clients came to her for deeply emotional tattoos, and it had taken all of her restraint not to sob when Rowan had first reached out about this particular tattoo. After so many months of watching him draw further and further into himself, of wishing she or anyone else could reach out and pull him from the depths of his anger, his pleas, his bargaining, and his soul-cracking sorrow, it was a massive breath of relief when he'd asked her to ink him.

Lyria had cast her light over the bleakness of Rowan's past, and when that light blinked out, Aelin was afraid Rowan would never see brightness again.

Beneath her buzzing needle, his heart beat steadily, thudding a gentle counterpoint to the mechanical hum of her work. The strokes of the Old Terrasenian characters unfolded under her skilled hands, an epitaph sketched over Rowan's heart, as he'd requested. I need to carry her as close to me as possible; can you place the piece over my heart? The ink that scrolled over Aelin's own heart hummed, as if in reply, a finely spun thread of soul-deep understanding that connected her to him in his grief. She knew what it was like to lose someone who held the keys to her heart. If Rowan needed a tattoo to help him navigate the twisting path of loss (as she did), she considered it her honor to give him that piece of support.

After she set aside her tools, wiped antiseptic solution over Rowan's fresh tattoo, and carefully covered it in clear film, Aelin discarded her gloves and handed Rowan a small mirror. He angled it down so he could see the Old Terrasenian script over his heart, and the suggestion of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he read the words she's so carefully rendered.

Lyria, beloved light of my heart

Rowan handed Aelin the mirror and traced a fingertip lightly over the clear film protecting the fresh tattoo. Slowly, he sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling the worn cotton over his head with care. As he stood to leave, he met her eyes, and something that could have been understanding passed between them. His lips moved, the words so soft that she didn't properly hear them until after he'd left the shop and closed the bell-laden door behind him.

"Thank you."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[sarcasticbookdragon]

[autumnbabylon]

Rowaelin core

A beckoning gesture, too small for Maeve to note. For anyone to note— except for her. Except for the silent language between them, the way their bodies had spoken to each other from the moment they’d met in that dusty alley in Varese.

[shallyne]

Daylight

This is my very first tog fic (that isn't a crackship) and my very first rowaelin fic and also my very first entry for @throneofglassmicrofics and for my dearest @timesconvert || I hope you'll like it!

This is a song fic based on Taylor Swift's song Daylight

Words: 818

TW: triggering canon scenes mentioned!

Aelin looked at Rowan, really looked at him as he talked to Fenrys and realised once again how lucky they were to be here. How much shit they went through to even get to this point at all and how far they’ve come since they first met, how fate hat fucked them up so thoroughly that they still healed and Aelin realized right then how lucky she was to be able to heal, right beside her mate. What an honour it was to not only be able to have him at her side but to be there for him, too, at his side. Yes she looked at Rowan because Rowan was what she could look at and what she wanted to look at. She saw him and he saw her, she never wanted anything to change about that.He loved her, saw through all her faults, the lines she had crossed in the past to survive, her saw her and he loved her,

She still felt guilt about how easily she had trusted Arobynn, how trusting Arobynn was her only chance at survival at only 8 years older but especially that she had harboured hope that he wasn’t the cruel man she had witnessed over and over again, how he had failed her last test in trust but Rowan...he still loved her throughout her misplaced hope in Arobynn and every fucked up thing she had to do to get them where they were now, to get to a peaceful life.After they went through so much darkness, through endless nights, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. Rowan was her daylight, the breaking of dawn. He had helped her leave the young assassin behind and step into the role of Queen of Terrasen.

Yes, Aelin finally was out of the dark, thanks to her beautiful mate and she finally had the peace to take the time to look at him and appreciate him and love him.

Although there were nights they took a long, long time to appreciate each other it was something different to look at him now. How his posture had become relaxed, how the darkness had left his eyes, less haunted than ever, and his sassy remarks, Aelin huffed a laugh that had both fae males looking over their shoulder. She waved for them to continue their conversation, a smile glued to her face. Yes, his sassy remarks definitely increased, but she couldn’t blame him, it was the very same for herself.

After what felt like twenty years full of darkness, he was her daylight and Aelin liked to believe he felt the same about her.

The darkness was finally over.

Fenrys sighed after Rowan clapped him on his shoulder, he turned around, mocking a bow and bid her goodbye. Aelin stuck out her tongue before Fenrys had fully turned, and saw a hint of a smirk as Rowan walked towards her, the sun shining behind him, making him look like there was a golden glow around him.

After Sam, she hadn’t believed she would ever find a love so all consuming that her whole body would react to everything, but here she was, her mouth drying up at the beauty of her mate.

“Are you done with your broody male conversations?” she asked, picking at her nails.

Rowan plopped down beside her, his familiar pine and snow scent enveloping them. “You can’t really call two people a club, can you?”

Aelin shrugged, turning her face and cherishing the sunlight. “No but you probably planned another broody fae male meeting where you talk about…well…broody fae male stuff.”

Rowan huffed amused and she felt how he leaned closer. “What have you laughed about earlier?” he asked, his voice quiet and deep,

Aelin hid her shudder at the pleasure that brought his voice and turned her head towards her mate, meeting his beautiful green eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, buzzard?” Rowan only raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She sighed, “I was just...I’m happy.” she admitted. Happy that she now could live a life where she could choose what she wanted. That she could be defined by the things she loved, not the things she hated. She wouldn’t be defined by the things that she was afraid of or the things that still haunted her in the middle of the night. They would be defined by the things that they love, they would become the people that made them happy.

“Me too.” Rowan said and although he wasn’t a man of big words, she saw the emotions in his eyes.He knew what she thought and he agreed.

Rowan stretched his hand out, for Aelin to take, and she did. He pulled her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then they began walking, into the bright future that awaited them. Full of laughter and life and light.

[middaymagick]

Nobody ever prepares you for the loneliness and sadness brought on by reading epic romance and love stories.

[inprogress-predicament]

Favorite Relationship Dynamic

Character A: *stone wall. no emotion.* Hm.

Character B: *vibrating to the point phasing out of reality* COME GET SOME MOTHERFUCKERS

[sofiasjornal]

“Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife.”

Empire of Storms; Sarah J Maas

This book has destroyed me…

[aelinschild]

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 8th: Sweater

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

A/N: Huge apologies for missing the post yesterday (March 8th), life is busy :) But, the post for today (March 9th) will be out shortly following this.

SYNOPSIS: Carry my heart. WORDCOUNT: 1.4k (whoops, ignore that.) WARNINGS: Cursing(?), Lustful roommates (theyre both guilty)

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

Its worth a shot. “Rowan, uh, where do you keep the towels?” 

He paused. The ample expanse of his back pushing ridges and dips in the fabric of his shirt. Something worn and tired, a breathy material that probably had molded to his shape. If Aelin had to guess, most of his clothes had. Or would have to. 

He had yet to show a penchant for nudity, but there was still time. 

Twirling the hem of her cover-up between nimble fingers kept the current of energy burning through her at a gentle hum. A buzzing inside bones, just under her C1 vertebrae. Target and switch, a noise she could flick off…if she wanted to, of course. 

“Are you out in your washroom?” He gruffed out. Muscles assuming their previously arrhythmic movements. 

“Not out. I was just wondering if you kept towels for the beach…?” She layered the question in a politeness, consideration lining every word. Had evaluated her grounds, found herself lost in the unsaid dance of the days. 

“For the beach?” Swiveling on his spot, eyes like magnets to he being. “Why, are you-” 

She wanted to make a joke, some sort of dig at his proclivity for repetition. Something to ease the brute of silence. But it had dripped from fists like a fine sand, slipping out of her mind when the force of direct seeing struck her. A breathless conclusion from moments of buildup. Green; deep fern and new life, no longer a smokescreen of skepticism – mistrust, but a telling. Seven days in close quarters had somehow drained the oxygen from her atmosphere, sharing noxious gases that toed the knife edge of ruination. 

Back and forth, a game of shared breaths before the final gasp of air. Suffocating and final. 

She would ignore the burning path of his eyes, would ignore the clenching of jaw muscles or the tightening of fists. Pulling at tendons in forearms that she had felt against her neck- Let her roommate collect his thoughts, simply a shock. A lapse in judgement. “Outdoor cupboard, by the stairs. Check for spiders, though. The bites sting.” 

It would be like snuffing out a flame, maiming its burn until it failed to exist. But in its darkness, grew life from a form of other worldly exoticism. 

“Thank you, Rowan.” 

“Wear sunscreen. And try not to drown again, yeah?” She laughed. 

-

When she had made the leap – most definitely by her own choice, no financial incentive or anything of the likes – to take up residence with a complete stranger, she hadn't expected the result. This result. At the time, getting away from a place where the traffic had permeated her internal monologue like a cursed whispering was conceivable only in dreams. The space between consciousness and not. Woman-Rowan had been a respectable option for a half crazed Aelin needing an escape for metropolitan life. Man Rowan was not. 

She needed the baggage that men carried like she needed more debt. 

It was possible that the exorbitant distance between where she was now and who she was not too long ago had shaped her, relaxation and unrestrictedness, into a pacifist. Sensation and thrill were closer to ones closed hands, just footsteps across the hall. Eyes like new growth incurring reactions so deeply chemical she could have described the shift as primal. A knee jerk reaction awaking a piece of herself she had tucked in so long ago. 

And… Rowan was different. Nothing like the men she had found herself in company with. This strange man, isolated and admittedly stunted, was a balm and a surge at once. Just talking to him hours ago had set her rationality aflame. 

She could not help but toe the line, jump over an invisible edge with every moment and find his eyes, his gaze, to gauge the reaction. Just to see. Desire and shame played like a record lowly in the background, inching further and further into some unparalleled mistake, or something else. 

Ultimately, though, it was only a game. Life would resume; this lapse would come to an end, and Aelin would be erased from the land like the drawings she was toeing into the sand. Nothing is forever, and she was not delusional enough to believe so. But, just enough to soak up the incredulity of every moment and lean into misinterpreted glances and burning touches. 

So as the sun began to set, the last washes of colour bleeding from the sky in a way that could only remind her of the man himself, she stayed on clear sand. Surrounded by whispering grasses and mumbling waters. On a towel – shook and beaten to assure that no pests would be biting her ass – borrowed and dirtied from sandy footprints. Skin still pulsing for unrestricted sunshine that left a golden luminosity to skin, highlighting the silvery scars on hips and bruises still healing over. Her novel and journal a quiet company. It was peaceful and healing.

But, the March winds washed over with the final dregs of winter, chilling and nipping at the great areas of exposed skin. Gooseflesh, much different from how it appeared yesterday, rose to her skin. Nipples stiff with the chill. She could only laugh, of course she forgot suitable clothes. The sheer dress – appropriate for beach settings, would not warm her. 

“Aelin!” 

Good gods.

Sound was heard differently on sand. This, she had learned. Weight played a part in the muffle of footsteps. Heavy strides were lower, less sound noise from the redistribution of sand. An unusual thud from the immediate compression. Being dropped resounded that way. A run often echoed in the movement of sand elsewhere. Spraying up and landing metres behind. But it was nearly impossible to silence ones own footfalls; sand would find a way to warn ever the most prepared creatures. 

Except for, of course, Rowan. 

“Couldn't hear me, huh?” He chuckled. “Cooked up some dinner, wanted to know if you were hungry.” Throaty and…shy? She had scrambled up to sitting at the first shock of his voice, body nearly exposed. Hidden behind fabric masquerading as a swimsuit. Tan lines aren't needed with the proper preparation. The sheer cover-up in her lap, balled up between fists. She had let out a hum of acknowledgement. 

“Oh, yeah I would love that. Uh, thank you.” Rowan. Thank you, Rowan. 

“Right.” He mused, hand scratching at the length of his forearm, over fading tattoos. She had yet to notice, but his gaze was anywhere but herself. 

Gathering her novel and notebook, Aelin made to stand. She could feel the tension in her legs from the horizontal position of the day. Residue of lactic acid and tranquility. Pinpricks of chill, the gusts sweeping her hair over her shoulders and twining it into a mess. In a curious way, his presence before her had warmed her core. The offering, his kindness, gruff and untried. 

“Here,” snapped the suspended introspection, a offering of cloth was jerked forward. Aelin only looked up, snagging her gaze on his. Blown out pupils and dancing hair. Swept across his forehead, ruffling the strands that begged for her touch. Following down, to his body now unclothed with the sweater she was so sure he had been wearing. To the fabric in outstretched arms. 

“No need,” she laughed. A little shocked at the boldness. “I’ll just change when I’m inside. I’ve got to get used to the temperatures somehow.” Moving to pull her shift on, the hand that had haunted her sleep last night was wrapped around her wrist. 

“No.” Shaking the sweater out, with one hand, Rowan maneuvered it so it would be easy to pull over. “Put this on.” 

“Rowan. Thank you for the gesture, but truly, I am fine.” 

“Just… please. Please put it on.” It was strained, like it hurt to push those words from the recesses of his mind. “No need to catching a cold, yeah?” 

For a moment, his hand still tight like a vise around her wrist and her with the sheer dress in clenched fists, Aelin faced off with him. Staring directly into eyes dwarfed by pupils. Indignance seeped from her pores. She didn't acquiesce easily, but usually there was solid ground for her to stand upon. Stone formed from a life lived, hard to push over or redirect. But… it was like toying with fire. He didn't care about a cold or her frigidity. Curious, indeed.  

“Sure. A cold, yeah.” He dropped her wrist and she pulled on the sweater. Curious, indeed.

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if you would like to be a part of the taglist :)

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - Ch. 1

Fic masterlist

Oh, hi, guys! Welcome to my new hyper fixation!! *fireworks* *champagne glasses* *me smiling like a maniac*

I really hope you like this new au! My other ones are still in progress, I’m just really excited about this lol

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking, mentions of sketchy cigars, mentions of a fistfight, mentions of a sprained ankle, promises of smutty times

Words: 3,3k

This party was falling apart. Literally.

Uncle Orlon thought it was a good idea to bring Aelin to this year's Aviator's Ball, so she could meet her future bosses with a little less pressure. At first, it was all fancy uniforms, expensive drinks and small talk. Now that it was past midnight, some of the older officers with the highest ranks had left—Like Orlon and Darrow—, a drunk major knocked down a massive flower arrangement, and the guy Aelin was flirting with had offered her a very sketchy-looking cigar, which she politely declined.

When two lieutenants started a fistfight, Aelin knew it was time to go.

She speed walked through the crowd of people, and even bumped her shoulder against the party planner's, who was going toward the brawl. The poor girl.

When she finally stepped outside, it felt like she could finally breathe.

"Staying out of trouble?" A deep voice asked her. Aelin looked around until she found an officer leaning on the side of the stairs that led to the garden. With his face lit up by the moonlight and eyes sparkling as they studied each other, he was breathtaking. Or at least that was Aelin's first thought when she saw him.

Aelin walked towards him. Staying out of trouble was Uncle Orlon's only request, but she also didn't want to look bad in front of her future bosses and future coworkers. That sounded like a suicide mission.

"Seems like that's what you're doing."

The hot officer chuckled. "Turns out being locked up becomes really easy when you're in the military. Specially when you make yourself some unruly friends."

"Have you ever been to the guardhouse?"

"Fuck, no."

She leaned against the wall on his side and shook his hand. "I'm Aelin."

"Rowan."

Turning fully towards him, she flipped her hair back a little to expose her shoulders and cleavage. "It's really hot in here, isn't it?"

Rowan got sidetracked by her exposed skin for a millisecond, then his eyes snapped back to hers. "You think so?"

"I know so, and I think it's because of—"

"Global warming, I know. God, this city gets hotter each year."

"What?"

He tilted his head. "You don't agree? This city's weather is hell."

Aelin clamped her lips together and tried not to laugh, even though her shoulders were shaking already. "I was going to land a pickup line, Rowan."

"Oh." He blushed, and it was the most adorable thing. "I thought we were talking about carbon monoxide."

Aelin chuckled. "Well, you ruined my pickup line now."

"My roommate teaches me a lot of those, but I won't use them."

"Why?"

Rowan leaned sideways on the wall and smirked. "Because I'm not trying to pick you up, I'm feeling like pinning you down instead."

She looked up, gaping. Aelin could kill that blunt, sassy grin of his. Or kiss it. God, she really wanted to kiss him now. Since he noticed her minutes ago, actually.

It was beautiful, how that smirk melted as his eyes darkened. The fabric of his uniform under her fingertips and Aelin's hands going up until they reached the lapels and clenched.

With both hands on her waist, Rowan was already one breath away from her when he closed their lips together with small, tentative brushes. At least until Aelin closed her arms around his neck and almost crushed their faces together, deepening the kiss.

His hands were everywhere. Her hips, her waist, toying with the straps of her dress. All that clashing and flicking and grabbing was making her heartbeat go wild. When it became too much, Rowan grabbed her upper arms and mentioned to lean away, but Aelin gently bit his lower lip to stop him.

Stay here, she conveyed.

He gave her small, gentle kisses and rested his forehead against hers, both heavily breathing against each other.

"You're not someone's wife, right?"

"What?" she breathed. Aelin's mind was still foggy from the kiss, she must've heard the wrong thing.

He swallowed and slid his hand down her arms, squeezing her fingers at the end. "That's why Fenrys got into a fistfight at the party. He made out with another officer's wife."

Aelin leaned away to properly look at his face, trying to understand what was going on. First, who the hell is Fenrys? Second, did he just stop their kiss to ask if she was married? Because he was avoiding a fistfight?

She sighed. You know what, that was fair.

Shaking her head, Aelin wiggled all her ringless fingers.

His eyes assessed her lack of uniform. "Someone's daughter, then. I think that's even worse."

A troublesome smirk was her only answer. Well, she was someone's great-niece, but it became almost the same if she considered Orlon raised Aelin since she was eight.

Looking up, Rowan cursed under his breath. Probably calculating his chances of being punished for this if her date—Brigadier Galathynius, not that he knew it—discovered. Proving her theory right, he asked, "They outrank me, right?"

Aelin raised her eyebrows. "You want to fuck me or not?"

"What?" His eyes widened, then he flinched. "Fuck, sorry, babe." He trailed kisses from her jaw to her lips, tugging her closer by the waist.

She hummed. That was much better.

"Do you want to leave before this party burns itself to the ground?" He whispered in her ear.

She chuckled. "Sure."

They were silently walking wherever he was leading her. One-night stands were so awkward sometimes, but Aelin was feeling good about this one. There was something comforting about Rowan, but she was failing to point what exactly. At one point, their hands accidentally grazed, but he kept them there and slowly intertwined their fingers.

Aelin hid a grimace when she saw his car, though. "I live in the village." She pointed in the direction of one of the military villages they had close by. "We can go by foot."

"You think I'd drink in front of all my bosses?"

He had a good point. It seemed like he was the only officer who cared, though. She had no idea how he understood her concerns so quickly, but Aelin didn't want to think too hard on this.

"I thought you should know I just moved in and my house is... lacking." He scratched the back of his head. "If you don't mind."

"Oh." She tilted her head. "We can go to my place, if you think that's better."

His shoulders dropped in relief. "You're sure it won't cause trouble?"

"I know my way around those security cameras." Aelin waved him off and leaned her side on his car. "But I still need to know what's lacking in your house."

Rowan's cheeks went crimson in a heartbeat. "I have a bed, it just hasn't arrived yet."

Aelin started cackling, her body trembling with laughter as he stared at her with the corners of his lips tugging up.

"I physically have a matteress, though!" He yelled over her laughter and opened the car, "And a great wall."

Things got quieter inside the car, so it was Aelin's cue to update her boyfriend, who was a little back and forth between Doranelle and Rifthold these days. He never told her about his one-night stands, which she didn't mind, but it felt wrong to sleep with someone without telling him.

Aelin: found myself a hot officer for the night

Aelin: we're going to my place

Dorian: how hot is he

Aelin: 8,5 maybe?

Such a horrendous lie. Aelin never graded her boy toys above 9 because she felt better if only her actual boyfriend was a 10. Truth was, if Dorian is a 10, Rowan is at least a 12. Actually, he was so handsome it made a lot of sense grading him above maximum score.

Dorian: nice

Dorian: have fun babe x

Rowan cleared his throat when they arrived at the village. Quickly tucking her phone back inside her purse, Aelin gave the directions of her house and made him park two houses before.

They silently walked together, until she stopped him on the border between her house and the neighbor's.

"I'm assuming you don't want to get caught by the cameras, since you're so scared of my uncle."

His eyes sparkled now that she satisfied his curiosity. Or maybe made it worse. There was no way to know. "An uncle, then." Rowan raised his eyebrows. "I'm not scared of him, but it would be nice if you could assure me he won't put me in the guardhouse for this."

Aelin snorted. Orlon couldn't hurt a fly if he wanted to, and even Darrow was a huge softie inside. But just the thought of sneaking out a little with her hot officer sent a thrill down her spine, so she kept her mouth shut.

"This wall we're in, it's a blind spot." When Aelin looked at Rowan, he was the most focused she'd seen tonight. An airman ready for battle. "We'll follow that path until we reach the porch, then we climb on the first window. It's my cousin's room, but he doesn't live here anymore. Then I'll check if the coast is clear, and my room is the one right next to it. Got it?"

Rowan nodded, eyes still calculating their path.

"It's the only way to get inside without getting caught on camera," Aelin added.

"This sounds like my training."

Aelin made eye contact, her chest a little more thrusted out than before. "Is the reward as good?"

"Not really, no," he muttered, his eyes on her lips.

"Well, you'll have to work for it, Officer," she said before tugging his arm towards the low fence they needed to climb.

~~

From the moment Aelin decided she wanted to become a doctor, she knew she'd work at the Air Force General Hospital.

This was the place she came to get her first casket when she was nine, after falling from her rollerskates. The place Aelin reached for when she got a little too drunk at seventeen, and made Aedion flirt with the doctor so she wouldn't snitch on them to Uncle Orlon. She was comfortable there. It felt familiar.

During those early daydreams about her own life, Aelin never thought about the moments she'd wish she worked somewhere else, though. They were nothing more than fleeting thoughts, she loved her job. But they still happened on days like this.

When Aelin opened the X-ray images on her computer, the boy's ankle didn't seem to be broken. One small blessing.

His eyes went wide when she told him so. "But it feels like it is."

Aelin gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's just a sprain, but I'll prescribe you some painkillers and—"

"Good, now we can go back to training," his instructor interrupted.

A death glare was Aelin's only response before she continued, "And I need you to rest that feet for two days—"

"Absolutely not!" The unwanted instructor cut in again, making the boy freeze on his seat. "What's the point of painkillers if he can't even exercise?"

"Captain Whitethorn," she hissed, "I believe I am the doctor here."

He slowly turned to that terrified boy. "Do you mind giving the doctor and I a moment to speak?"

"No." Aelin got up before he could. "Captain Whitethorn and I can talk in another room." She pointed at his swollen ankle. "You rest that feet."

Rowan followed her to an empty room two doors down, and they closed the door, it was like... It was like every other day, actually.

"You." He pointed a finger at her. "Do not question my authority in front of my students, Lieutenant."

"And you." She pointed a finger back. "Do not question my authorithy as a doctor in front of my patients, asshole."

"I was not trying to—"

"Yes, you were!" Aelin screamed this time. "Every day, you question what, when, how—"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't need to question if you just—"

"If I just what?" She opened her arms, tired of this. "If I just acted exactly like you?"

Rowan just stared at her with that intense look of his.

Aelin took a deep breath. She wouldn't put sense in Rowan's head by screaming. She never did.

"Luca—"

He raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? You're trying to guilt trip me by using his first name?"

"It's his first week here, and he's already in the hospital, Rowan! He's a teenage boy! He's someone's kid!" Aelin yelled, her tone increasing with each argument.

"Don't you even think about mentioning my daughter! He's the one who enlisted. I'm just doing my job."

She sighed. "I know you are, but your teaching techniques..."

He scoffed. "Don't act like you didn't love my teaching techniques back then."

"Fuck you!"

There were two loud bangs in the door before Aelin's tiniest, angriest co-worker barged in.

"You two." Elide's finger darted between them before she continued. "Seriously? Again?"

Rowan didn't dare point out that he was being talked down by someone with a lower rank than his. He knew better than to argue with Elide.

She continued, "I'm going to discharge your patient, and you two are leaving. Now."

Aelin looked at her watch. Fuck, they needed to rush if they didn't want to be late.

She turned to Rowan. "I'll be in the car in 5." And stopped. Aelin slowly turned to Elide and said, "Tell the patient that Captain Whitethorn told him to go home and come back in two days."

Rowan clenched his jaw, arms already crossed, but said nothing. He knew he had no chance with Aelin and Elide together.

The drive was pretty silent after that, but not exactly comfortable. She knew their fight hadn't ended yet, but it had to for now. They needed to look composed for this.

They heard the deafening sound of children screaming before the car could park at the Air Force school, made specially for the children of the Air Force personnel. It wasn't one of those fancy Montessori schools with hyper-specialized teachers, but it was a good school right next to the village they lived in. It was the best choice for them.

Rowan didn't think so. And he always let her know that, from big arguments to the classic arms-crossed-and-narrowed-eyes thing he was doing now.

She wouldn’t acknowledge his dissatisfaction now, though. They walked together until the pre-K area, which was separated from the big kids', and it took no time at all until a soft set of limbs wrapped themselves around her legs.

Aelin crouched down to talk to her daughter and adjust that messy hair, taking it out of the front of her gorgeous deep green eyes, when Maisie's jaw fell. And she shrieked.

"DADDY!" Was the only thing she screamed before jumping on Rowan's arms, always ready to catch her. "You said you couldn't pick me up today."

Maisie's hair was completely her own, Aelin noticed as her daughter had her back turned at her, on her dad's arms. Not as pale as Rowan's, not as golden as Aelin's. She had Aelin's nose but, apart from that, Maisie looked like a small Rowan Whithethorn with chubby cheeks.

She was just waiting for her face to be right next to his and... yep, there it is. Copy, paste, add childish features. Genetics sounded a lot simpler than what she studied in college while looking at those two.

Rowan was spinning her around, and Mai's squeals of delight were almost deafning. For the first time since seeing Rowan today, Aelin felt like smiling.

They had conflicts, yes, but Aelin couldn't deny that he was a great dad. She had never resented Rowan for being the parent with the stronger genes, or Maisie for being so much like her father. On the contrary. She even thought it was cute, especially when she saw her daughter's little frown or her shy demeanor with strangers. Maisie's a Whitethorn through and through, or so Rowan's family point out every time they meet.

"How was your day, hun?" Aelin asked on the walk back to the car while brushing her little girl's hair back with her hand.

"I got the littlest, babiest grapes today." She stopped in the middle of the parking lot and opened the lunchbox. "Look!"

Inspecting it, Aelin noticed Maisie's littlest, babiest grapes looked like a car ran them over. "What happened to them?"

She took the lunchbox back and frowned. "I don't know. I slept with them at nap time to protect them, but it didn't work out."

Aelin's lips were clamped together, trying hard not to laugh. That little girl probably squished the poor grapes to death. Rowan seemed to think the same, from the way the corners of his lips were tugging up. Noticing Aelin's stare, he gave her a small smile while ruffling their daughter's hair. She quickly looked away.

They never picked her up together when Maisie was in daycare, but they were doing it as an encouragement now that she was still adapting to preschool.

She always missed one parent while in another's house, even if she spent no more than three days in each house and had daily goodnight calls. Every morning was a different meltdown because she says she doesn't like school, so promising Maisie that both parents would pick her up was a good way to stop a tantrum. Some days, at least.

Their daughter was asleep in the car seat, exhausted from preschooler life, so they kept quiet while Aelin drove Rowan back to base for his night class.

"I'll call you," was the only thing he said. Not goodbye or thank you for the ride.

Aelin knew she meant he'd call Maisie for their goodnight call, but she took the bait anyway. "No, you'll call Maisie."

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, and Aelin could feel her body go tense again. He was the one annoyed, really?

"I don't understand why we keep having the same conversation over and over."

"Me neither, is that so hard to stop calling me and use the f—" she glanced at Maisie, still asleep. "Fucking parenting app?" Aelin whispered.

"You know what?" He leaned closer to her, hand resting on the car panel. "It is. I hate that app."

"I. Don't. Care. I can't have you calling me several times a day to ask stupid shit like if I packed Maisie's lunch."

Rowan frowned. "That kind of comment isn't helping, Aelin. In fact, it makes me even more concerned."

Was he implying that Aelin didn't care?

Heat flushed through her whole body as she saw red. "Get out of my car."

He didn't.

"Now!" Aelin whisper-yelled, still trying not to wake Maisie up. "Don't you have a student to screw or something?"

Rowan's eyes widened, and every feature of his face slowly started looking consumed by rage. From his glare to his reddened face.

He held back, though.

"You know what?" Rowan unfastened his seatbelt. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"Great." Aelin knew she had gone too far. She'd think about it the day she actually cared.

"And I'll call you as many times a day I want whenever you're with my daughter."

He got out and slammed the car door.

Rowan's body went taut at the same time Aelin flinched. They both knew what was happening now.

"Mommy, where's Daddy going?" Their daughter asked a moment later, rubbing her eyes.

Maisie's lips started wobbling the second she noticed Rowan was leaving, and she was wailing even before he could get into the backseat to soothe her. He kept saying that he'd see her at their goodnight call later and tomorrow at the pickup again, but nothing seemed to work.

Resting her head on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath, Aelin tried to think of something. The best bribes were always ice cream or more screen time. She needed to pick her weapons wisely.

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Here is the third chapter of spotlight on me, baby where are you? (Originally a one shot named “emails I can’t send”)

I’m having so much fun writing this series!

Word Count: 1.7k

Enjoy! Please let me know what you think! 😚

~~

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Well, she couldn’t do that in the peace-killing device she wore. Aelin was pretty sure her dress was slowly suffocating her.

“At least you look hot,” Lysandra had shrugged when Aelin had mentioned this to her best friend and stylist. “And that’s all that matters at the Grammy after party, isn’t it?”

Now, Aelin blew out a breath as she stared out the tinted window to the building before her. Everywhere, celebrities were exiting their luxury vehicles and sashaying their way towards the party. She thought they looked like ants crawling over their nest.

“Ready?” Aedion, sitting on the other side of the car, asked. He was clad in sweats and a white T-shirt, hair pulled back. Lysandra leaned against him, a hand on her boyfriend’s knee, the green-eyed beauty wearing a simple black dress. For a moment, Aelin was overcome with a devastating envy; not just for her friends’ obvious bliss in their relationship, but for their life. After the Grammys performance, their job was done, and they could drive home and relax on the couch, watch Netflix, and go to sleep.

Not Aelin. No, because of the life she’d so desperately wanted, she’d squeezed into her dress and was carted off into the limo moments after the exhausting event that was the Grammys. Now, she would spend the next five hours maintaining her perfect image, avoiding the cruel paparazzi and pandering to the ones she knew her agent had paid. She’d be lucky if she got to sleep before five in the morning. That is, if she could sleep at all.

Aelin couldn’t help feeling alone. She’d never tell anyone else this, of course; complaining about her life just felt privileged and spoiled. The only person who truly understood was…

Was…

Gone. Somebody else’s to love.

Snapping back to reality, Aelin forced a smile and nodded. “Of course.”

She turned back to the window and took a final breath, closing her eyes as she let her face melt into the mask she’d perfected over the time since her break into the industry; the arrogance, the casual beauty, the always-present amusement. Looking over her shoulder, she shot her friends a wink before the door opened and she stepped out onto the street.

Instantly, she was overwhelmed by the chaos of it all; the flash of the cameras, the shouting of the paparazzi.

“Aelin, over here!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform at the Grammys without any nominations?”

“Here, Aelin!”

“Aelin, who are you wearing tonight?”

“Look here, Aelin!”

“How were the Grammys, Aelin?”

“One smile, Aelin!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform your pointed single in front of ex Whitethorn?”

A wave of cold washed over Aelin, and she swallowed and locked her spine. Plastering a smirk on her face, she moved toward the entrance, letting her hips swing with every step. She felt and saw the lightbulbs flash, and kept her eyes on the entrance. The guard at the door gave her a smile and a nod, stepping aside to let her in. Aelin walked through the threshold and sighed, shoulders slumping for one second before she forced her posture perfect again.

Here we go.

__

The music was too loud.

Much, much too loud - meant to drown out the chatter of the industry’s finest. Rowan wondered how much people paid to have their music played at events like these.

“Rowan?”

Rowan blinked and looked down, straight into big brown eyes. Lyria smiled softly up at him, the action lighting up her face from pretty to beautiful. She reached out, curled her fingers around Rowan’s dress shirt and tugged. Obliging her, Rowan leaned down, turning his head so she could whisper into his ear.

“Can we go find the rest of the group?” she asked, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. Rowan pulled back and nodded, offering her his arm to take as they left the room. Instantly, the chaos of the main room was muted as they stepped into a hallway. “Oh, it was agonizingly loud in there, wasn’t it?” Lyria asked.

“I don’t understand why they always crank the music up to the top volume,” Rowan grumbled, shaking his head. “I was about to lose feeling in my ears.”

Lyria giggled, a soft, breathy sound. “Good thing I saved you.”

“Good thing.”

They made their way through the crowds, craning their necks to find the rest of The Cadre. Rowan welcomed the quiet Lyria offered him, letting his mind wander. He still felt shaky, totally on edge. How could he go on through this stupid party, full of vain, vapid people, after what had happened just two hours before? He didn’t know how he’d held on so long without breaking down, honestly. Most likely thanks to Lyria’s sweet presence.

“There!” the girl in question said, pointing through the crowd. Rowan instantly saw the backs of the heads of Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan, and began gently tugging Lyria towards them. He felt his spirits rise at the thought of talking to his friends, debriefing the Grammys, discussing the awards…They reached the group and his friends turned, letting him see who they were all talking to -

Oh, gods.

Oh, fucking gods.

Standing there, in all her glory. Dressed in a tight red dress that stopped mid-thigh and hugged every curve, sleeveless with a dipping neckline. A gold necklace was draped across a perfect collarbone, drawing the eyes to a delightful amount of cleavage - just enough to tease but modest enough to maintain control. Golden hair swooped back with gold clips, two perfect strands framing the face..that face. High cheekbones. A pair of full lips painted red to match the dress. Darkened eyelashes and a cat eye to accentuate those blue, fiery eyes.

At the sight, Rowan almost fell to his knees.

He thought half-hysterically that far below him, some dark god was laughing his ass off as Rowan drowned in those eyes…that perfect shade of blue, that untamable fire he’d always adored…

Rowan forced his gaze away from Aelin Galathynius, and just like that, he was in control again. His legs were once again steady and strong. His heart, on the other hand, was still hammering like he’d run a race.

“Oh, Rowan!” Gavriel stammered, looking nervous. Rightfully so. Rowan was going to kill him once they were out of here. “We - we were looking for you, but we couldn’t find you guys…” His voice trailed off, most likely thanks to the death-promise that was undoubtedly in Rowan’s eyes.

“We were in the main room,” Lyria replied for him. “It got too loud for Rowan, though. Old man.” She chuckled, patting his arm.

Old man. Rowan wondered if Lyria knew what she was doing, making that joke. He dared a glance…

Her eyes were full of flame, lips pursed. His gaze dropped to her hand, currently holding a flute of champagne, and watched her slender pointer finger tap against the glass, an almond nail clacking against the surface. Her tell, one that no amount of media training could stamp out of her. She was angry.

Rowan felt the ghost of a smile around his mouth. He loved the sight of Aelin Galathynius in a rage.

No. He tamped down on the thought before it could go any farther.

He knew why she was mad. He let the train of thought carry him away, to better times…

Old man…

Old man…

—“You old man!” The fond joke he’d grown accustomed to hearing. He’d rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, smirking at her shrieks of fake rage.

“Sorry, we’ve got to get home…this old man here needs to be in bed before eleven.” The excuse she’d give their friends whenever his hands would trace below her lower back, or when he’d press pleading kisses to the back of her neck when nobody was looking. It was his favorite insult, given that it usually led to fingernails dragging down his back, a head thrown back in ecstasy, pleasure unlike he’d ever known.

“You’re such an old man.” The words he’d beheld in her eyes after his stiff and formal introduction to her father. She hadn’t even had to say anything for him to understand. He’d thrown her a wink and pressed a kiss to her mouth, reveling in her delighted laughter, arms around his neck. He’d pulled her to him, hugging her tight, breathing in her lemon verbena shampoo. Glancing up, he’d seen her father watching them at the door and knew the sight had won the man’s approval more than any conversation would. —

Rowan pushed away the memories. The joy of those days had now turned to despair. The once-beloved words, old man, as sacred as phrases of love, felt distorted and dirty coming from Lyria’s pink lips. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak-

“Rowan can’t stay in one place for long before he leaves, can he?”

All heads whipped to the cool-faced beauty standing before them. The words were dripping with acid, but in a voice so melodic it almost didn’t pierce Rowan’s heart.

Almost.

Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan shifted, all finding the floor, their drinks, the ceiling suddenly riveting. Rowan swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Aelin-” he began.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had that problem with my boyfriend,” Lyria’s soft voice floated up from next to him, edged with a steel he’d never heard before from her. “We left because I wanted to.” She turned to him, smiling, and stroked his cheek once before letting her hand fall and grasp his tightly. “He’s always so responsive to my needs,” she said sweetly. Honeyed words, meant to choke.

Aelin’s nostrils flared, and she cocked her head in a move so animalistic a distant voice in Rowan’s mind wondered if she was descended from a leopard. A terrifying smile graced her mouth, eyes frozen in rage. Part of Rowan shrank back as his gaze darted from woman to woman. One feline and dangerous, the other doe-eyed and deceptively soft.

The soft part of Lyria, he saw, had gone as quickly as her loyalty to Aelin.

Aelin took one step forward. A single step, that had the entire group bracing themselves. Her words were breathy and tinged with dark amusement.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, sweetheart.”

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