tothestarsandwhateverend

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

baby wake up, new Rhysand art just dropped

🎨 by ignartcio

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

this was beautiful 😭😭❤️

The Longest Night

A short glimpse into the lives of Rhysand and the Inner Circle on the Winter Solistice, 30 years into Rhys’s enslavement Under the Mountain.

For @officialfeysandweek Day 5: Fated

Inspired by one of my text posts from 2022

Word count: 1k

Read on AO3

-

It was the longest night of the year.

And, by any conventional standard, they had assembled the perfect Solstice dinner.

Someone had lovingly donned a woven table runner across the long dining table in the House of Wind. It's golden thread stood out starkly in the dim faelight, cutting across the dark blue fabric like streaks of lightning on a clear night. Cassian recognised the stitchwork. Its seamstress had threaded her needle through his own skin enough times, tenderly patching him up after long, brutal days in the Illyrian training camps.

His heart ached to stare at her handiwork for too long, so he averted his eyes elsewhere—to the pillars of candles, which rose among the countless platters of food, twining cinnamon and cypress with the scent of roasted meat and spices that was not overall unpleasant, just…

Unwelcome.

Not because Cassian minded the candles, or was ever one to turn away a hot meal. Particularly a spread as fine as the one before him, prepared by the best cooks in Velaris, who had dipped into the preserve of spices that were only saved for special occasions such as this.

No one could claim his discontent was the result of meager effort, or that this was a poor rendition of a Solstice Celebration.

He just couldn't summon any cheer as he snagged his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, watching the dark liquid swirl as he twisted it this way and that. It almost felt like mockery to drink wine, of all things.

Not that he would say such a thing to Mor, who was decanting the final drops of her glass into her mouth. They hadn't started dinner yet, but he couldn't blame her. Instead, Cassian wordlessly slid his glass across the table, wedging it between the fingers of Mor's rested hand, where it splayed nostalgically across the table runner.

When Mor offered him a small, grateful nod, he pushed to his feet. He needed something stronger, anyhow.

Who's idea was this, again?

As he began pouring himself a drink from the decanters at the sideboard, Cassian glanced over his shoulder. His friends were all seated at the dining table, staring mutely at their food or at their drinks. None of them were speaking.

It was a nice attempt, he thought, taking a large swallow and grunting at the heat that spread through him. He felt it burn down his chest and settle heavily in his gut—strong stuff, though he hadn't a clue what it was and didn't think anyone was in the mood to tell him.

Rhys would have known.

That thought slid in like a dagger. Lingered, as Cassian's eyes drifted unbidden to the head of the table.

A place had been set there. A knife and fork and freshly polished plate, waiting patiently beside a full glass of red wine.

But the chair was empty. Just as it had remained for the last 30 years. And no one would be coming to claim it.

For a moment, he considered dashing his drink against the prestine fucking floor and diving out the nearest window to escape this facade they were putting on, as if everything were normal. As if there was anything worth celebrating.

The only thing that subdued the impulse was the sight of Mor's trembling lip as she, too, slanted her gaze to the head of the table. And when that tremble split into a soft keening sound, it was Cassian's heart that shattered on the floor, not his drink.

"Sorry," Mor sniffed, darting her eyes to the faelight overhead as she dabbed at tears and smeared khol with the tips of her fingers. "I know we said no crying—"

"We never said that," Cassian said, sliding back into his seat.

Azriel cast an assessing eye over the admittedly generous pour Cassian was bracing in his fist, but Az reserved his commentary.

"I told myself no crying," Mor acquiesced with another sniff. "I thought 30 years would be enough time for it to not feel so… so…"

Raw, Cassian thought. Mor shrugged without concluding the thought and if anyone else mentally filled in the rest, they didn't volunteer it.

At least until they fell back into silence, and Azriel glanced towards the head of the table and rasped, "Empty."

Empty. Like Rhysand's seat, and his throne, and his bedroom.

Like the training ring in the mornings, when there was no buffer between Azriel's bouts of silence and the static in Cassian's head.

Like the bi-monthly meetings with the people of Velaris, where he watched Amren and Mor act as steward to their people's hardships and concerns, which grew more pressing each year.

Like the market squares in the city center, which were once flush with traders and merchants who were now blocked from entering or exiting the city, stranding them all in this crowded, isolated place.

Or like every aching moment over the last 30 years where Cassian glanced over his shoulder after making some smart comment, expecting to see the smug, if not exasperated, smile of his friend. His brother.

And finding nothing. A ghost of a memory, at most.

Yeah, empty was a good word for it.

-

It was the longest night of the year.

Not that Rhys would know. He spent it inside, between Amarantha's legs. Hardly given a moment to consider the time of year, or how his friends might be celebrating without him.

Amarantha told him, of course. She wanted him to know what she was taking away from him, even as he pretended that he didn't care. What interest did a Dark Lord have in petty little festivities?

Rhys didn't usually invite thoughts of his friends into Amarantha's bedroom—for his own sake, he tried to keep those parts of his life firmly compartmentalized.

But he did take a moment to send a plea to the stars he couldn't see: that his friends were okay, that they could forgive him, that they were happy.

And if the stars could offer leniency to a male who hadn't gazed upon them in years, if they had the capacity to perceive his actions with pity instead of scorn, then he saved a risidual wish for himself:

That this eternal Hell would end before he found a way to end it himself.

-

It was the longest night of year.

Unbeknownst to all of them, across Prythian, in the Mortal Realm, a human girl was born.

As if the stars had listened.

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

i got married this weekend and saw this notification and i’m telling myself it was a wedding gift!!!!! UGH i love them so much

little bean and papa bean are the cutest nicknames ever.

pls pls pls let the reveal go well 😭😭 i don’t even wanna know the shit that’ll go down if rowan finds out from someone elseeeeeee

Look at Us Now - ch. 28

Fic masterlist

Not me disappearing and coming back with angst

Warnings: you might be mad at me by the end of this chapter

Words: 3,8k

There was a lot of gross things that, as a mother, Aelin was willing to do, but gift-wrapping a peed stick for her boyfriend wasn’t one of them.

Instead, Aelin texted Rowan asking him to pick Maisie up alone. After work, she went straight to get her pregnancy confirmed with some blood work that’d be done tomorrow, then went to the mall to find a cute envelope to put the test in.

Aelin was supposed to go straight home after, but she got sidetracked by the baby stores. Sue her.

Though it was getting pretty late. So late she had to pause the onesie window-shopping because her phone started pinging with Rowan’s texts.

>> Baby

>> Working late today?

>> I’m cleaning my closet for when you decide to bring your things

>> I made soup for dinner

>> Maisie and Fleetfoot are sleeping

>> And my cock is already hard for you

>> Don’t make me miss you too much

His texts brought a smile to her lips. Torn between her promise to stop lying to him and the truth potentially ruining her plans, Aelin decided she’d just not say anything to him—only when it was time.

Her reply began with a devilish grinning emoji.

<< Or else?

<< I’ll be home soon

<< Buzzard

<< Love you

She put her phone away, not knowing the cause for the quiver in her stomach—something between morning sickness, being too in love and nausea from antidepressant withdrawal, now that she had to switch her medication to something more pregnancy-friendly.

Aelin wanted to suspend all her medication for the baby’s sake, but Dr. Blackbeak advised her against it—and was unkind enough to remind her about what happened when she last did it.

Her history with postpartum depression, the main reason she was freaking out about this pregnancy. She’d always wanted this second baby—now or later, surprise or planned—but as much as it didn’t change the outcome, it also didn’t change how anxious she felt about it.

Being a second-time mom, people would think Aelin wasn’t scared. Truth was, she was fucking terrified. Even more so than in her first pregnancy.

This wasn’t the cold rush in the pit of Aelin’s belly, making a mother-to-be wonder about how her new journey would be. This was the sheer dread of a woman who went to hell and back not a very long time ago.

Aelin took a deep breath, clutching the little onesie for dear life as if it’d steady her. She let herself sniff it because it smelled like babies, rainbows and unicorns, then blinked back a few tears because pregnancy hormones and the moodiness from antidepressant withdrawal weren’t a good combo.

Morning sickness made her dehydrated enough. The last thing Aelin needed was to cry like a baby at the mall.

When the timer went off a few days ago and Aelin saw two lines on the pregnancy test, she shrieked with joy. Her chest inflated like a balloon, overcome with the most exquisite feeling, and then memories of a tiny, breakable Maisie flooded her thoughts. That’s when her smile died down.

She remembered her daughter’s cute nursery, and how Rowan would shout at her when he visited because he was over-sanitizing everything Maisie came near, but Aelin would rather kill herself than get out of bed to pick up a broom.

She remembered dizziness and black spots in her vision because Aelin wasn’t eating as much as a nursing mother should.

She remembered wondering how well-off Maisie would be with just Rowan, and remembered toughening up and shaking these thoughts off because growing up without her own mom sucked.

She remembered not remembering Maisie’s first year like a proper mom would, because her faulty brain deemed it safer to erase it than allow Aelin to relieve it in any way.

Still, she could do this again. She would do this again.

And while Aelin had no certainty over how having a newborn baby again would look like, she knew the outcome would be better if she allowed herself to rely on Rowan.

Aelin was self-sufficient enough to not really need anyone, but she also could admit that Rowan had a skill-set that complimented hers. They made a good team. Therefore, though Aelin didn’t need him, she was ready to allow herself to.

And right now, she could really use his restorative cuddles or the meals he’d prep when she was pregnant with Maisie. Everything at the hospital cafeteria made her stomach riot, so Aelin had a bag of IV fluids for lunch, after she felt ill at the end of a 6-hour surgery. Rowan would freak the fuck out if he knew.

But then she saw a White Hawks onesie, and every worry flew out the window for a moment. It was one of the first things he bought for Maisie, and even today, he got her a new jersey every time she outgrew one.

She took one off the rack and smiled. This wasn’t the original plan, but the envelope with the beta hCG test was definitely coming with a gift attached now.

˜˜

“Again?” Sorscha, the hospital’s pharmacist, frowned at Aelin’s request.

“What do you mean, again?”

“I heard you came here asking for the same thing earlier today.”

Fucking hospital gossip.

On the way home, Aelin had to pull over and ended up retching inside one of her shopping bags—but had the time to get the onesie out before she made its bag unsalvageable—so she decided to do a quick detour back to work and surreptitiously snatch a bag of IV fluids.

It didn’t take a PhD to know that intravenous medication was more effective than tablets, and Aelin happened to have easy access to it and a medical degree to take care of herself.

But now Sorscha’s unwillingness to help was kinda ruining her plans.

The pharmacist continued, “Did you see a physician before coming here?”

Absolutely not. If Aelin told a single soul inside this hospital about her pregnancy, there was a chance someone might congratulate Rowan about it before she did it herself.

Instead, Aelin said, “I am the physician.”

“Really? You broke a bone so bad you need anti-nausea and B1?”

Aelin crossed her arms, shooting daggers at Sorscha. What was even her point here?

Still, she pressed on, “Does Captain Whitethorn know you’re here?”

“That is none of your business,” Aelin said slowly, her tone and glare hard as steel. “I came here for saline, electrolytes, glucose, vitamins and ondansetron; not relationship advice. Can I have the fluids or not?”

Sorscha’s jaw worked, her tiny frame now filled with anger. Aelin didn’t mean to be a jerk, but the woman crossed a line by mentioning her boyfriend.

“Sorry, Doc. I only take orders from physicians when they’re on call,” the pharmacist said before turning her back on Aelin and leaving her alone in the hallway.

Aelin walked about two halls and found chairs by the administrative area, and texted her resident.

<< Nox

<< Who’s on call tonight?

Thank Mala her response came fast.

>> Bas and I

>> Need anything?

<< No you’re not

<< You just pulled a 24h shift

<< Tonight you’re getting a good night’s sleep for Mr. Faliq’s carpal tunnel fix.

<< Come by Yellowlegs’ office so I can scold you in person

Aelin tucked her phone back inside her purse—she didn’t need to wait for a reply, he’d be here.

In the meantime, she self-soothed the discomfort in her throat and stomach with deep breaths while she didn’t have her IV, and thought of what the hell she’d tell Rowan when she got home, now that it was after ten and she wasn’t ready to tell him about the baby yet.

If Rowan knew that she: (1) was at the hospital because her (2) pregnancy symptoms were overlapping with the (3) antidepressant withdrawal, so she was (4) throwing up so much it was hard to keep food inside while also (5) freaking out because Baby #2 could potentially wreck years of progress Aelin has put into her mental heath ever since Maisie was born…

It was safe to say that Aelin wasn’t eager to put all cards on the table for him right now.

Rowan will find a million things to worry about, whether they’re an actual concern or not. And if she does give him something to be concerned about… nope. Not happening. Aelin needed to get at least part of her shit together before he went all dadzilla on her.

On the other hand, she needed him. Also, Rowan might freak out, but she couldn’t lie just to shield him from a problem that regarded both of them, as a couple.

But hurried footsteps announced her resident’s arrival, so Aelin tucked those problems away for her near-future self.

“Hey, Doc!” Nox shouted, running her way. “Just finished the night round. What’s up?”

“Just feeling a bit under the weather.” She waved him off before he decided to doctor her. “Nothing much. Sorscha won’t give me an IV because I’m not on call, can you get one for me?”

“Again?” He asked, mentioning her mid-surgery break earlier today. “Are you sick?”

“Not sick enough to let you fix Mr. Faliq’s wrist unsupervised, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He raised his brows and had his palms facing up and tried to clarify, “That’s not—“

“And I’m not trusting that wrist with a sleep-deprived resident.” She circled a finger in the general direction of his bloodshot eyes. “You better be looking sharp and ready at the OR tomorrow, Dr. Owen.��

He pointed at the bags under his eyes. “I think these will take a lot more than one night to fade away, Doc.”

Aelin humphed and quickly scribbled down the components she needed for her fluids. Truth was, she liked Nox. Being older than the average resident—older than her, even—he was fun company, but not a buffoon like some of her students. As an attending surgeon, she needed to give him a hard time sometimes to establish dominance, but Aelin could easily see herself befriending him once they were equals in the surgery food chain.

She handed him the note. “Would you get these at the pharmacy and find me at the observation room?”

He nodded and scanned the note. “Sure, and about tomorrow—wait. I know this. My sister would take it when she was—” Nox’s pulled down eyebrows went impossibly up as his eyes widened. He cleared his throat and schooled his face into neutrality. “But that’s none of my business, is it?”

“Good call,” Aelin said, and tilted her chin to the general direction of the pharmacy. “Now go.”

˜˜

“Are you sure you can drive like this? I don’t mind staying longer,” Nox said at the observation room, right after he didn’t let Aelin stab the IV needle into herself.

There was a 50/50 chance he was sucking up to her to get more surgeries, but it wasn’t bothering her as much as it would on a regular day.

“It’s a five-minute drive,” she reminded him. It went without saying that Aelin lived at the Air Force gated community, most doctors here did.

He hummed, still checking everything before he left. “And you’re alone with Little Bean tonight?”

“Nope.” She leaned back on the recliner chair, biting back a smile. “Papa Bean and I moved in together. Now I can be sick without worrying about Little Bean.” She wiggled her eyebrows, gloating about this newfound small luxury.

Not that she didn’t have help per se but, a year ago, Aelin would rather overdose on painkillers than ask Rowan for help.

Before she could continue conversation with Nox, a figure oddly similar to Papa Bean himself showed up in her peripheral vision.

She saw him before he saw her. Nox closed the partitions that separated her from the other patients, but not the one that faced the corridor—which allowed her to see Rowan’s back as he talked to a nurse at another part of the room.

Why on earth was he here? This wasn’t protocol. Aelin wasn’t injured in a way that made the staff make calls—hell, she wasn’t even officially a patient, she pretty much made her resident smuggle some fluids and medicated herself here.

She glared at Nox, but he looked just as confused. By the way he was coddling her, Aelin doubted he’d call Rowan behind her back. Which led to one other suspect.

When Rowan found her and his features relaxed in relief, all murderous thoughts about Sorscha vanished.

“Gods, Aelin.” He sighed, then hurried to her chair and cradled her head to his chest, ducking his face into the top of her head as if in this moment he wanted to embrace her with every inch of his body. “What happened?”

The snap of Nox’s gloves as he threw them away caught her attention before she could reply. “I should go. See you around, Doc.” He nodded at Rowan. “Captain.”

Rowan briefly thanked him for assisting Aelin, closed the last partition to give them some privacy and brought a chair closer to hers. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. I just felt a bit under the weather and stopped by to get some fluids. Do you remember who notified you about me being here? That’s not protocol.”

He blinked. His gaze slowly hardened until his jaw worked, and that’s how Aelin realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“A friend of Aedion’s that works here told him and asked if you’re okay, and then he called me asking if you’re okay.”

Fucking hospital gossip.

Rowan quirked a brow up and crossed his arms, waiting her to say something, which she didn’t, so he continued, “Now, imagine how I felt when I didn’t know if you’re okay or why you’re in the hospital, because you completely disappeared on me all evening—“

Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but Rowan held a finger up to signal that he wasn’t finished, in a way annoyingly similar to the one he used with Maisie. “And, after I made Aedion run to our house to watch Maisie and drove like a maniac here, imagine how I felt when I find you hanging out with your resident, right next to your phone, just not feeling in the mood to tell me you’re in the goddamn hospital?!” His voice got harsher and uneven in the end, an indicator that he was trying to keep it down given their surroundings.

Knowing her boyfriend, she could imagine very well. It wasn’t pretty but, in her defense, the hospital visit was completely unplanned and part of some news he wasn’t supposed to know yet.

Aelin nodded, her demeanor serious but not chastened. “I understand this isn’t ideal—“

“Ideal?”

A sigh. “I understand you’re pissy, then.”

“No, pissy doesn’t cover a fraction of it. The entire evening, where were you?”

“I had things to do.”

“And I suppose you’re not going to tell me until you want to?”

Aelin didn’t reply, and she was relieved when he kept quiet as well. If she was going through an inquisition, it was better to do it at home, away from prying ears. Besides, she was almost done with the IV.

As they waited to go home, Rowan’s face—along with the crossed arms and brooding aura—spoke volumes. And while she understood why he was upset with her, whatever Rowan wanted to know, he could wait until the pregnancy reveal tomorrow. Aelin was so not spilling everything now at the worst moment ever.

Baby #1 revealed in jail and Baby #2 at the ER. Mala help Baby #3 if they keep this shit up.

But then an inkling of why he might be this upset hit her, along with memories of her and Nox hanging out when he arrived. This sounds like such a silly concern.

Just like co-parenting a child with him meant dealing with millions of silly concerns that took over his days.

Shit.

Aelin wished she had the self-control to stand the weird vibe, but she didn’t. Without letting Rowan notice, she took off her own needle and disposed what was left of the fluids before she had finished it. She did take enough to get through the night, which was her goal.

Once they were in the parking lot, she broke their silence.

“I was alone—the whole time. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Rowan cast her a sideways glance of poorly-concealed disapproval, as his steps towards the car didn’t falter. His jaw worked.

“I never doubted your fidelity, Aelin. Knowing you, I’d be less worried if that was the case—at least I’d know what the fuck you’re up to.”

Aelin reared back, his words hitting her like a blow.

“You don’t mean that.”

Rowan got inside the car without sparing her a glance, but she followed suit, undeterred. Sat on the passenger seat and decided to spill every part he needed to know at the moment without waiting for his reaction.

“I had a long day at work and needed to clear my head, so I went to the mall.” Not a lie. “Then I threw up on the way home and stopped by the hospital for some anti-nausea medication. Dr. Blackbeak changed my antidepressant, I’ll have withdrawal symptoms for the next few weeks.”

Among other causes for nausea.

“You didn’t tell me—about any of it.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“You went to Dr. Blackbeak almost two days ago, Aelin.”

Rowan’s speed wasn’t nausea-friendly, and he must be really pissed off to forget about his safety-first driving style.

“Well, you know—“

“Why did she change your medication?”

“I’m not the shrink, am I?”

His sharp turn brought a taste of bile to her throat. Shit, couldn’t he give time for her meds to work before driving this unhinged?

Rowan stopped at a red light, then rested his head against the steering wheel—more like banged his head against it, but the quick horn didn’t have many cars to disturb at this late hour.

With a heartbreaking waver to his voice that tugged at her heartstrings, he said, “I’m trying so fucking hard to be understanding, to be a better partner, to be someone you deserve, but I can’t be that to you if you won’t let me.”

Guilt. Aelin closed her eyes to take some deep breaths for her rebellious stomach, letting the raw emotion of his statement wash away the confidence about the way she acted tonight. Flashes of Rowan’s worried glances and tentative conversations about Aelin’s mood he started with her the past weeks came to mind.

It was only then that Aelin realized Rowan noticed every symptom of her pregnancy—the fatigue, mood swings, change in appetite—before she did herself. He just assumed she was having a depressive episode instead.

He saw all the signs and decided she was depressed instead of carrying his baby. The Buzzard.

Aelin never lied to him about Maisie or things she deemed important for him to know, but she did lie to him about her mental health. Repeatedly. Over the course of six years. This being the main reason that broke them apart.

Knowing this, she could see more clearly the reason behind his outburst.

Aelin slowly reached his shoulder and caressed it with her thumb. “Baby, I’m fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

Lies, lies, lies. Almost—but she wasn’t telling him whole thing now.

The light turned green and he picked up speed, to her stomach’s chagrin.

“Aelin, that’s not how ma—how a relationship works. You can’t let me know about shit like this only when it’s convenient for you, and I thought we were over this.”

Cold sweat broke on Aelin’s skin, and she felt lucky she could process what he said over the lightheadedness.

“I know, baby. And you’re the first person I go to, always. But sometimes I feel more comfortable sorting things out on my own first.”

Rowan let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen? Me freaking out because someone else told me you’re at the hospital?”

With breaths too shallow, her mouth flooded with saliva and made her jaw clench.

“Stop the car.”

“What?” Rowan asked, confused.

“Stop the car,” she repeated with no energy to shout, which he complied—too abruptly.

Aelin practically jumped off the car once it stopped and knelt on the grass of their gated community, trying to take deep breaths as her diaphragm contracted itself, preparing her for what was to come.

Her boyfriend quickly circled the car and crouched next to her. His trademark frown was frownier than ever. “What’s going on?”

“I just. Took. Nausea shit,” she managed to say, still breathless. “Could you not drive like a maniac?”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, baby.” He held her hair. “All this from the medication withdrawal?”

Aelin couldn’t answer even if she wanted to, given her current state. A moment or two later she sat—more like slumped—on the grass, potentially ruining her jeans, feeling glad that there was a lot of dry heaving, but she didn’t throw up. Thank you, modern medicine.

She knew she had to address what Rowan said tonight, but it must be nearing midnight, Aelin had surgery first thing in the morning, and she was so incredibly tired.

An entire day’s worth of fatigue crashed down on her, just as much as her pride vanished. She didn’t bother trying to hide any of it from Rowan anymore, who watched her with hawk-like attention.

“Can we fight later?” Aelin said with a pleading look.

“Of course, baby.” Rowan scooped her up from the floor and effortlessly sat her on the passenger seat with the seatbelt on.

Aelin never thought she’d ever enjoy being coddled like this, but she’s had a rough day, and she needs her person.

Back in the driver’s seat, Rowan gave her a once-over before turning the car on, but Aelin stopped him once more. They’d get home to Aedion demanding answers, then crash and wake up to Maisie being loud in the morning and a whole day of work. Some things needed to be said first, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“I just want you to know that I know that what happened was very uncool of me. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get over it.” He gave her a watery smile. “Do you wanna talk about it just the two of us, or should I book an appointment with Yrene?”

Aelin wrinkled her nose, playfully discarding the idea of an early trip to the family therapist’s office. “Just us.”

“Whatever you need.”

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

i love these so much

Letters Never Sent, Letter II

Read on Ao3 // Feysand Week Masterlist // Letters Never Sent Masterlist

The second letter in the Letters Never Sent series I created for @officialfeysandweek.

It has been typed out below the cut.

My Darling Mate,

Your words echo in my mind. Across the centuries I’ve seen every kind of horror you can imagine, physical and mental, anguish unmatched. None of those scars match the knowledge I gained today.

I warned you against lies, so the secret you confessed must be true. To think I could have lost you to your own hand before any enemy’s. I would not blame you, but I would have grieved your loss for an eternity, my Feyre.

Your trust in me is still so fragile, I fear I will be the one to push you to flight, but I need to see you will be well. I need to see that you will let yourself be loved, as a friend and as a female, even if it is not me you choose in the end. Just let me see you healed from the pain that still plagues you.

If I can never be your mate, let me ever so briefly be your shelter, and let me always be your friend, Feyre darling. I couldn’t bear for you to stare into that darkness again.

Forever Yours,

Rhysand

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

Letters Never Sent, Letter I

Read on Ao3 // Feysand Week Masterlist // Letters Never Sent Masterlist

Kicking off @officialfeysandweek with the first submission from a series of short letters Rhys wrote before the mating bond was accepted.

None of the letters were written with the intention of matching prompts, just a fun little thing.

If the font is difficult to read, I have it typed out below the cut as well.

My Darling Mate,

It’s been three months since we said goodbye on that balcony. Three months I’ve spent trying to convince myself to leave you to live out your life in Spring. To turn my back and put you from my mind.

But this longing is not so simple as the wanting of lust or desire. Yearning is not a fixation one can outgrow with time and distraction. It is a flame—great, wild, and all consuming. A more literal fire will claim these words before I could consider burdening you with them.

Better for us both, of course. Tomorrow you’ll be wed. First a lover, now wife to my enemy. For the first time in centuries I envy Tamlin. He does not deserve the devotion you give him so readily. Then again, my hands are just as bloody. I have to wonder if any male above the wall could truly earn the love of your human heart, my Feyre.

Haunted as it may be, there is nothing I wouldn’t give to have the chance.

Forever Yours,

Rhysand

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

if there is a part 2 to this i am SAT

You should stay in my good graces

Written for Rowaelin Month, songfic day @rowaelinscourt

Sabrina Carpenter once said: “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete.”

Warnings: none I think? Some heavy petting but still safe for work lol

Words: 3,5k

Aelin Galathynius Seen At Football Game As Fans Continue To Wait For Album Release

“You do know he won’t want you for more than a night, right?” Lysandra asked while Aelin looked for Rowan Whitethorn at the afterparty with hawk-like precision.

“I hope so, yes,” she replied.

Aedion’s groan was loud even with the club’s music and hooting.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find the team captain at a game afterparty, but looking for someone she didn’t know in person wasn’t the best thing to do at crowded, massive, and poorly-lit nightclub.

Rowan Whitethorn. All she knew were his piercing green eyes that made her memorize his face even through a picture, and that he was a player in and out of the field. His reputation preceded him. The only thing Aelin could judge him was for how hot he is, though the media diagnosed him as an ‘incorrigible womanizer’ while experts called him the greatest football player of this generation.

And most importantly, her ex-boyfriend’s favorite active athlete.

“Are you sure you want to keep up with this?” Aedion asked, glancing between her and the crowd. “You weren’t even that into Chaol.”

Aelin sipped her margarita and shrugged. “This isn’t about my feelings towards him, it’s about his disrespect towards me.”

She knew her cousin well enough to know that he wasn’t comfortable leaving Aelin alone, half-drunk and mini-skirted at a bar filled with strangers, and Aedion knew her well enough to know she was carrying on with her plan anyway.

Lysandra proceeded to blabber about cultural differences between hot dogs from every country she’s been in with Aelin for this last tour, and Aedion ate it up with rapt attention. Aelin, however, looked around in a way her friend saw right through, feigning boredom to search for the one person she was here for tonight.

She couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but she could easily see how the crowd’s pattern shifted like the Red Sea parting for someone with a presence as strong as a team captain’s. Aelin saw people move and heads turn before seeing the man himself, and that’s how she found her target.

It was so easy to spot the difference between the moment he saw her from the moment he noticed her—a millisecond was enough to spot the blooming glint in the eyes of an archer who’s just found his prey.

The look of womanizer who’s just found a maneater in sheep’s clothing.

One, two—a slow smile—three, four. One polite tug and his gaze was drawn away, but she kept eye contact for long enough to get his attention.

“It’s done,” she told Lysandra and Aedion by the high bar table. Their reactions were much different—one excited, the other reluctant—but they knew it was their cue to leave.

Rowan knew where to find her, now all she had to do was wait. Aelin wasn’t so desperate she’d chase a man.

Her ex, Chaol, was never at these events to avoid his father—the CFO of one of the companies that sponsored the White Hawks—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sport. He watched every single game with Dorian, and Rowan Whitethorn’s autograph had a special spot in his hallway, among other framed signed jerseys from his favorite athletes.

Yes, Aelin googled every single one from that wall. The list wasn’t too big, and after crossing off every one that was dead or too old for her, the problematic ones, and the married ones… let’s say there was barely a list after what was supposed to be an initial selection, and she almost gave up on the plan. Aelin might be looking for someone to sleep with to get back at Chaol, but that didn’t mean she’d sleep with anyone just for the sake of revenge. Ew.

She got lucky that Chaol’s favorite athlete in their age group looked this cute.

One day, she’s going steady with her three-month long situationship; the next, her publicist calls her in the middle of a family dinner to tell her Chaol was caught looking way too cozy with another girl. They’d never discussed exclusivity in their relationship, so something they could’ve figured out in a conversation turned into something bigger because he was stupid enough to be photographed.

And if Aelin’s humiliation was public, Chaol’s payback would be too.

A hand on Aelin’s shoulder caught her attention—it was meant to only call her attention, but now the man kept a steady grasp on her that slid down to her elbow.

A pair of dark brown eyes assessed her with curiosity. “Aelin Galathynius,” he said, eyes now trailing down to the long stretch of exposed skin of her legs.

Aelin yanked her elbow back and was about to ask who this creep was, but didn’t get to it.

“Cairn.” She heard the name in a deep voice, but didn’t see his mouth move. A hand reached his shoulder from behind, and another man—the man she was looking for—stepped into their circle. He was even more magnetic up close.

“What.” Cairn said to his captain, terse.

“Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Is it about that foul?”

“Gotta ask him, man.”

Cairn gave Aelin one last look, then sighed and left off—resigned yet pissed.

Rowan took his time, alcohol-free beer in hand while he maintained a steady presence by her side. In that moment, Aelin decided that photoshop and celebrity takes did him no favors.

From the line between his brows the magazines smoothed out to that look he gave his teammate—not a disappointed-yet-resigned one with the politeness publicists groomed into public personas, but the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t above bypassing his teammate in order to get it. The person she saw online was a polished version of the little part of the man she met now, and Aelin just happened to like him best rougher around the edges.

“Did he?” she said.

“Did he what?”

“Did Gavriel want to talk to him?”

Rowan smirked. Took a slow sip of his drink. “The thing about Coach Gav—if one of his players is there to listen, he always has an advice to give.”

He might as well have said ‘no’. Though he didn’t have to—even if Aelin wasn’t focused on taking Whitethorn to bed tonight, that Cairn person’s vibes were all off, she wouldn’t have given him any attention either way.

“I’m Rowan.”

“I know.” She giggled. “If I’m crashing a game afterparty, I should at least know the captain’s name.”

Not exactly crashing, since every man in her family was usually invited to this kind of sports thing, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance you’re someone I should know,” he said with an apologetic expression.

She never found this offensive. When a good portion of the world was bombarded with Aelin’s name whether they want it or not, finding someone oblivious to her existence was somewhat refreshing.

“I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he trailed with a faraway look in his eye. “Aelin, Aelin, Aelin…” The turning engines inside his head were clear as day until it clicked. “Aelin! From that Yulemas special, right?”

Aelin burst out laughing. She had been lucky enough throughout her career that none of her work could ever be called a ‘flop’, but that Yulemas special was the closest thing she had to it. The show was good enough and so was the viewership, but let’s say she did not sign up for another one the next year.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a confused, but mostly amused look.

“You’re the first person I meet that knows me because of that Yulemas special, that’s all.”

Rowan ducked his chin, and Aelin was sure that blush on his cheek was just the strobe lights tricking her eyes. “I don’t really keep up with social media, or celebrity stuff… or anything that isn’t work, actually. But my cousins put that show on every Yulemas dinner.”

Aelin grinned. “That’s sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself because the song shifted to something even louder, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When it subsided, he leaned closer and said, “Can I take you to a booth upstairs?”

Aelin reared back to read his face. “Just a booth?” she asked with one brow quirked up.

“Just a private booth.”

A slow smirk danced on her lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Rowan pointed to the general direction they were going and trailed behind her, but his hand found her back and stayed there when he noticed the sets of eyes following Aelin around the club—marking his territory.

However, they came to an abrupt stop when one of his teammates quite literally ran their way.

“Rowie!” Moonbeam shouts, trying to get Rowan’s attention. “D’you have spare pants?”

The man stared, motionless. “What?”

His teammate turned around and pointed at the ripped seam on his bottom that exposed his underwear. “Got an extra pair or not?”

“How in hell did you—“

“It’s the DJ’s fault!”

Partying too hard, then. Aelin didn’t know Fenrys Moonbeam personally, but he was known to keep it as classy as a wannabe D-lister at their first Grammy afterparty—except he was a world-class athlete.

The man’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Aelin, and he pointed at his butt again and said, “Can you sew this for me?”

“Dude.” Rowan cut him off, eyes hard as steel.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“What did I do?”

“That’s fucking sexist, man.”

Fenrys gaped. He looked between her and Rowan, then flailed his arms in an empty gesture, fumbling to articulate himself. “I didn’t just see a chick and ask her to sew, she went to fashion school!”

Rowan blinked, then sent her a confused look.

“I did,” Aelin said between giggles. “Find me a thread and needle and I’ll fix it.”

Fenrys went off with his new quest, and Rowan took her upstairs. When Aelin asked him about his friend finding them again, he just grumbled something about ‘the boyo’ always finding him whether Rowan wants it or not.

The private booths were much more comfortable—with softer music and table service, the atmosphere was quite different from the dance floor’s madness.

“I really need to write a new single if the Yulemas show and fashion school is what I’m being referenced for these days,” Aelin said after they were settled.

Rowan oh-so-smoothly sneaked his arm around her. “That’s what you’re doing now? Writing?”

“Writing feels like a too-strong word for what I’m doing now,” she said with a slight grimace. “Let’s say I’m torturing my piano while my manager sends me contacts to write it all for me and get the album out in time.”

He frowned. “Can you do that? Hire other people to write it for you, I mean.”

Aelin laughed—she didn’t mean to, it just tore out of her. He was so oblivious to her line of work, it was endearing.

Rowan just picked another one of his alcohol-free beer, not seeming to be offended about her reaction. “That’s also public knowledge I’m clueless about, isn’t it?”

Aelin bit her lower lip and gave him an amused look that hopefully was answer enough. Then held both hands up and said, “Look, all I know about football is that the ball goes in the goal, and I look cute in your team’s colors. Nothing else.” She tapped the side of her head. “Nada.”

“That can’t be true.” His face was an inch closer to hers now.

“Maybe I need some teaching,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips.

This. This is where he slips. This is how Aelin finds the first red flag before he lured her into his lips. Because red flags are the trail of breadcrumbs she leaves to not lose herself in a man, and she needed them more than anything now that she was enjoying herself too much for a revenge plan. Please, big hot guy, please mansplain to me your favorite sport.

Instead, he held her neck—the goosebumps down her body were due to the cold temperature, she was sure—and murmured back, “But I doubt you want to learn now.”

Oh, shit. Before her mind even registered it, she held his cheek and tugged his lips into hers, the soft feel of his pillowy—

“Rowie!” They heard Fenrys before he was in their sight, kiss broken—half-kiss, actually. The man sighed when he found their booth and plopped on the seat next to Aelin, sandwiching her between the two players.

“Turns out management keeps an emergency sewing kit,” he said, baffled. “Can you believe it?”

“I really can’t,” Rowan grumbled.

“Now if you excuse me… Aelin, could you…?” Fenrys trailed, pointing at the wall.

She complied and stared at the wall until granted permission to look back. When she did, Fenrys held his pants with one hand and a towel around his hips with another.

She grabbed the piece of clothing and did a quick work of it. Her days of fashion school were long gone, but muscle memory got her on it like time wasn’t even a thing.

Rowan still looked a bit grumpy about Fenrys’ intrusion, but she didn’t blame him. They kinda got cockblocked, but Whitethorn’s was kinda doing it for her.

“How did you even know she went fashion school?” he asked.

It was public knowledge about her, but the kind not even the casual fans knew. And if Rowan was asking, his teammate must not be a die-hard fan.

Fenrys smirked at Aelin. “I memorize a few random facts about you to impress the ladies.”

Aelin chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. She knew this move existed, but no one that used it had been so bold to say it to her face.

She handed the pair of pants back to Fenrys, and kept her eyes closed while he put it back on and blabbered something about his brother mocking him forever after this.

“I think we all will, Boyo,” Rowan said. “Now get lost.”

“Thanks, Aelin!” he said with a salute on his way out. “I’m streaming your next album so hard—it’ll be another #1!”

Aelin groaned and sagged back on her seat, but only Rowan was there to see it.

“Are you really triggered by any mention of your next album?”

She shrugged. “Nah, just being dramatic.” Aelin put her hands on his shoulders, slowly so she’d feel his pecs on her way up. “But I’d feel better if you didn’t speak at all.”

His lips met hers for another kiss, and it tore into her bloodstream like discovering a new favorite melody, his mouth on hers as he tilted her head to taste her better. Aelin ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair while Rowan tugged her body closer, ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her legs.

A miniskirt wasn’t the most practical attire, but it did prevent her from being stupid sometimes—if it wasn’t for the looming threat of accidentally flashing the whole VIP section of the club, Aelin would be in Rowan’s lap by now.

Rowan grabbed the hair by her nape to allow him space on her neck, and Aelin just shut her eyes closed to let that man and his wicked mouth draw every shiver he wanted out of her. With his hands on her body and his lips on her neck, she let her guard down and allowed him something she rarely gave other men—consent to play her like his favorite instrument, walls as down as her panties if this was his way of taking control.

His trail of kisses went upwards, from her collarbone to her ear. “I was thinking—“

“You’re really hot and all, but I don’t sneak into club bathrooms.”

The low rumble of his throat as he chuckled was so sinful Aelin felt it between her thighs. “I don’t drink Dom Pérignon in plastic cups, baby.” Rowan whispered, his breath fanning her ear in a maddening way. “And I like to savor it—let the taste linger on my tongue.”

All her thoughts vanished. Aelin only had half a mind to ask, “You drive?”

She’d come with Aedion, wherever he is now.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just…” Rowan grabbed a napkin to remove the lipstick that was supposed to be kiss-proof—it did a better job than most, but it still smudge his cupid’s bow and bottom lip.

“That’s Pat McGrath, babe. You’ll need it surgically removed.”

Rowan frowned. “Pat McAfee?”

Their exit was quite different from when they entered the VIP section. Rowan’s possessive-yet-polite grasp on her fully left the latter part, greedily taking hold of her on their way out. He also brushed aside two teammates that sought him, likely afraid of being interrupted by them like Moonbeam did.

The valet was already outside with his car when Rowan noticed the paparazzi outside. He looked at them and back at Aelin, brows furrowed in thought.

“I usually just go,” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you usually— what do you want me to do?”

“I’m a big girl. Let’s do this.” Aelin squared her shoulders and quickly fixed her hair.

The flashes were a dizzying contrast to the club’s dark ambience, but Rowan kept her steady with one hand protectively on her back, trying and failing to shield her from the onslaught of cameras.

He opened the passenger door for her and ran to the driver’s side, and soon the madness faded out, leaving just the two of them and the soft music on the radio.

As the mood settled and the city lights became blurs around them, it dawned on Aelin that she was about to be unwrapped, bended and spread out by a man who was too dreamy for his own good—the worst kind in the long run.

What was she doing? Aelin wasn’t even the one-night stand type—she wasn’t used to long relationships either, but that wasn’t the point. The “incriminating” pictures of her with Rowan were taken and out soon, and Chaol—whose existence she completely forgot about—would be pissed already.

Aelin steadied herself for what she was about to do, red flag on the floor for him to pick up and wave once she did it.

“I have a counteroffer.”

“Do tell.”

“You drop me off at my apartment on Goldryn St, and I’ll see you around.”

If Rowan was pissed or offended, he didn’t show. Instead, he quickly studied her expression, a bit confused, but once her face didn’t waver, he gave his car screen a pointed look and asked her to type her address in the GPS.

Aelin did vow that she would never settle for anything less than a green flag collector, she didn’t know why it was so unsettling to see one live.

Not that she would settle anytime soon, it was just something that crossed her mind.

Even if she was willing to have a fling with Rowan, she didn’t regret turning him down tonight. If a man wasn’t willing to chase a girl he fancied, what was he chasing in life?

The car pulled up at the building’s entrance, empty except for the doorman by the glass doors. No paps in sight.

Rowan’s jaw fell. “This is too peaceful, even for a spare home.”

“That’s actually my dad’s apartment, for when he has a late work night and doesn’t feel like making the drive home.”

No doubt Aelin’s own home would be absolute mayhem after tonight, that’s why her dad left his safe haven at her disposal.

“Your dad…?”

“He’s in politics.”

Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, earning him a laugh from her.

“But we don’t wanna ruin our goodbyes by talking politics, do we?” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan jumped from his seat and circled his car to open the passenger door for her and gave her a hand to help her stand up. Except he didn’t let go. He kept her hand gently yet firmly clutched to his and brought it to his lips, giving her knuckles a chivalrous kiss while his eyes looked borderline devilish.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, repeating her exact words from the ‘counteroffer’.

She grinned. “I’ll see you around.”

Aelin walked the few steps to the building, but stopped before the front door and turned to take a glimpse of him. Rowan stayed leaned against his car, arms crossed while he waited for her to walk in.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile and watched his serene grin turn sly.

Aelin saw right through his chivalry, the dangerous promise hidden beneath looking near transparent to her eyes.

Aelin Galathynius Watches With Rowan Whitethorn Play Amid Chaol Westfall Breakup Rumors

Aelin Galathynius’ Fans Spot ‘Lipstick Smudge’ On Rowan Whitethorn After White Hawks’ Afterparty

Rowan Whitethorn Follows Aelin Galathynius On Instagram After Rendezvous With The Singer!

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

IM EXCITED FOR PART 2

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 4 - ACCIDENTAL NUDE

I had fun with this one. Took an unexpected approach but it’s still good.

~~~~~

Rowan was content with his night of leisure. Watching TV, filling in a page of his mindfulness colouring book, letting his thoughts idle around nothing. It was relaxing and he barely had a care in the world. That was until his roommate unceremoniously burst into his room without knocking. The door would have slammed into the wall if a washing basket hadn’t been tucked behind it.

“Fen, what the fu—“

“I’ve made a mistake,” Fenrys said quickly.

Rowan leveled him with an unsurprised glare. “Again?”

“Let’s just skip the whole ‘how remarkable it is for you to make a mistake’ sarcasm because this is very time sensitive,” Fenrys stepped into the room, hands gesturing one over the other in front of him. “And I need your help and I’m coming here because of how much I value your friendship because this concerns you as well.”

“All right,” Rowan said, pausing his show and crossing his arms, dreading whatever his roommate and long time friend might have dragged him into. “I’ll bite.”

Fenrys gave a sharp but heavy sigh that might have been out of relief. “Okay, you know that thing you do when you’re having two conversations, and you finish messaging on one and then you’re thinking about the other one and when you pick your phone you think you’re in that conversation?”

There was a moment when the two men just looked at each other, Fenrys waiting for Rowan to decipher the tangle of words. It did take a moment and even though Rowan wasn’t entirely sure he gave a hesitant, “Yeah.”

“I did that. With an intimate photo. I sent it to the wrong person.”

With a scoff Rowan said, “That sounds like a you problem.”

Fenrys cringed, looking guilty as well. “I sent it to Aelin.

“You what?” Rowan’s gut twisted.

“Remember I said I sent it to the wrong person. Aelin was asking me if I wanted to meet them at the bar they’re at and I was chatting to another girl and I got my lines crossed and I accidentally sent it to Aelin,” Fenrys explained, his words coming out fast in his uncharacteristic nervousness.

“You can’t unsend it?” Rowan asked.

Fenrys shook his head. “It was over text. There’s no taking it back.”

It was hard for Rowan to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. Despair might be the most accurate description, with a decent mix of jealousy. That was stupid thing to feel, Aelin was his best friend and totally ignorant of his deeper feelings. If she was talking to other guys and receiving messages like the one Fenrys apparently mistakenly sent, that was her business, none of his. Rowan shouldn’t care, but by the gods he did.

“I know how you feel about her, Rowan. I would never do that to you,” Fenrys said earnestly.

One night Rowan had been miserable and more than a little drunk when his deepest secret had come spilling out to his roommate. Fenrys was the only one who knew about how far his feelings went for Aelin and he’d never pushed it. Every once and a while there was some teasing comment or a knowing look, but it would be a complete denial of Fenrys’ nature to do absolutely nothing. So when Fenrys said he didn’t mean to send the photo, Rowan believed him.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it,” Rowan said.

“Ah, hear me out,” Fenrys said, his face lifting and leaning his palms on the foot of the bed. “She hasn’t seen it. So what you can do is go to the bar, get into her phone and delete the message before she can. I know you know her passcode, which is saying something more that I won’t mention further. Thus, preventing the ruination of her for all other men and preserving my modesty.” When Rowan outright laughed at that last comment Fenrys amended with, “Maybe just my embarrassment.”

“I’m sure Aelin would understand,” Rowan supplied. This all sounded a little too risky and it was late and he was comfy.

“I have never in my life sent an unsolicited dick pic and I don’t intend to start now,” Fenrys protested adamantly. “And bro code, she’s your girl. Not mine.”

If only that were true.

Groaning Rowan threw himself back on his pillows. There was an inner battle going on and he wasn’t a fan of the side that was currently winning. He hated that his main motivation for even considering going was for his own selfish reasons to prevent Aelin from seeing Fenrys naked. If Aelin was seeing a man naked, Rowan wanted it to be him. And Fenrys was a handsome man and he took care of his body—it would definitely be an appealing picture.

“Right now Aelin is dancing the night away, too busy to check her phone. We have a very small window of opportunity.” Fenrys added, cutting into Rowan’s thoughts. “Please, Ro, buddy, old pal. Save me from being a creeper. We all know girls talk about these things.”

Fenrys looked over with puppy dog eyes, beseeching Rowan to say yes. It was obvious Fenrys’ pride was at stake but he was also trying to do the gallant thing, So Rowan resigned himself with his second heavy sigh. “Where am I going?”

~~~~~

The bar was busy and loud when Rowan got there. Even then it didn’t take long for him to spot Aelin and the group she had come out with tonight. They commanded the dance floor, all high energy and clothing that sparkled in the low light. Aelin was in the middle of it, a queen in her chosen domain. It was hard not to stare at her, the joy on her face making her more beautiful if it were possible. Rowan had been invited on this little outing, but he’d declined. Being in his final semester of university he was being slammed with assignments and he was exhausted. A night in was what he needed, and yet it wasn’t what he was going to get. Fenrys would owe him for this.

Aelin spotted him first, smiling brightly as she waved at him through the crowd that he lingered on the edges of. Rowan didn’t know how she knew he was there, but she’d looked right at him. Then she was leaning in and saying something to Lysandra and started to weave through the mass of bodies. It wasn’t long before Aelin was close enough for Rowan to get a clear look at her.

She looked stunning tonight. The dress she wore was made of a cream fabric, small clusters of gold sequins making a haphazard but tasteful pattern. The hem sat high on her thigh, a small slit accentuating the length of her tanned legs. The real show stealer was the neckline that scooped low with a slight drape, held up with thin straps, showing off her cleavage. Aelin was a sight to behold and Rowan had to remind himself that friends didn’t look at each other like the way he was looking at her and he better fix his face before she got closer and noticed.

Aelin was so happy to see him, a wide smile lighting up her face. The way she looked at him did funny things to his heart and Rowan tried to ignore it. When Fenrys was in the mood to pester he asked why Rowan hadn’t confessed his true feelings yet. The truth of it was that he couldn’t risk losing her, if she didn’t feel the same he knew their friendship would dissolve into awkwardness and he cared too much about her to ruin what they had. So he stayed silent and suffered.

“Rowan! What are you doing here?” Aelin asked as she threw her arms around his neck, the scent of her perfume overtaking the smell of alcohol and sweat of the bar. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

When Aelin pulled back Rowan shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

She didn’t go far or let him go, instead linked their elbows. “Good. I’ve missed you.”

He couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto his lips and the sentiment, or the way his body welcomed her touch. The others had made their way off the dancefloor too, crowding around a tall table. For a while everyone just chatted. Elide and Lysandra were there, Aedion had tagged along as well. Dorian and Manon were pretending not to be interested in each other much to the quiet amusement of everyone.

“Want a drink?” Dorian asked across the table.

“No, I can't stay long,” Rowan replied.

Aedion followed Dorian to the bar, leaving Rowan with the girls who had taken up a conversation amongst themselves. Rowan cataloged whose bag was who’s, relieved when Aelin reached into her bag for lipgloss and not her phone. He still had time, he just needed everyone else to leave so he could ransack Aelin’s bag. The song changed and all three girls squealed. Despite the noise of the club the combined high pitched sound of their excitement hurt his ears.

“Come dance, Rowan!” Aelin said, holding her hand out to him.

“I’ll stay with the table, you go,” Rowan told her.

She looked ready to protest but she must have seen the pleading in his eyes that he was having trouble hiding. Rowan hoped he assumed it was over his reluctance to dance rather than his ulterior motives. He watched as she disappeared through the crowd and onto the dance floor. The light flashed and the bass thrummed though his body, and all the while Rowan couldn’t look away. Aelin moved effortlessly to the beat, smiling and laughing with her friends. He could watch her forever, and he was so entranced that he almost forgot his purpose in being here.

Aelin had left her bag on the table and Rowan did a final check to see if he’d be busted before he opened it. Luckily, her phone was still in there and he wouldn’t have to try and get it off her person. Rowan tapped in her passcode, a string of numbers he didn’t know the meaning of and he was in. The little red bubble on her text app showed more than 100 unread messages. There were two types of people in the world, he was one and Aelin was the other. He ignored the irrational irritation seeing that unattended notification gave him and kept to his task. Fenrys’ thread was near the top, the preview saying there was an image in the latest text.

Rowan braced himself, living with Fenrys for as long as he had, he’d seen the man naked a few times under various circumstances. But Rowan had the feeling this was about to be an entirely different experience. With one final farewell to his current sanity Rowan opened the message thread and trying his hardest not to look he swiped left for delete. It was an impossible feat, he needed his vision to get rid of the evidence. Even squinting, Rowan copped an eyeful of a full frontal nudity mirror shot, everything at the ready. If only mind bleach existed. The photo had just disappeared from existence on Aelin’s phone when a voice came from right next to him.

“What are you doing?”

Rowan started so hard he dropped the phone on the table, the clattering heard over the music. He frantically tried to get it back into his hand, checking for damage because the last thing he needed tonight was to smash Aelin’s screen. Caught red handed Rowan turned, finding the phone’s owner right next to him. Her expression was both curious and amused, and expectant of an answer.

“Uh…” That was embarrassingly the best that Rowan could do.

That only made one corner of Aelin’s mouth crook upwards as she lent on the table to get closer to him. “Why do you have my phone? And what were you doing just before I busted you?”

“Well, I can blame Fenrys for that, for everything actually,” Rowan offered lamely.

“Fenrys?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah, he needed a favour,” Rowan explained.

Aelin just looked more confused by the second. “What does that have to do with my phone?”

“You see—”

Rowan was interrupted by Dorian and Aedion returning to the table, drinks in hand. No one noticed the tension between him and Aelin, or the fact the phone was still in his hand. Conversation broke out around them, but neither joined in. Aelin just had him pinned with her turquoise eyes still waiting for her answer.

Leaning in, Rowan whispered, “I don’t think this is the right place for this,” he handed the phone back. “Can I tell you later?”

It seemed this was one thing that Aelin didn’t have the patience for. She took her phone from Rowan, and then with her unoccupied hand she twisted a fist into the hem of his shirt, dragging him off his stool, giving him no option but to follow her. There were questioning looks from just about everyone they passed, Aelin ignored them and Rowan did his best to as well. They made quite the sight with Aelin physically dragging him off to wherever she deemed an appropriate place to continue this conversation. She didn’t let go until they were outside, taking him around the corner so they were off the main street and in a little alleyway instead.

“All right, Whitethorn. Spill,” Aelin said, leaving him against the wall while she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “Why were you going through my phone?”

Rowan was trapped, nowhere to go unless he could melt into the wall. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh, I’ve got time,” Aelin assured him.

With the wall at his back and the unrelenting force of a woman in front of him, Rowan truly felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He might as well be honest about it.

“I was deleting a message from Fenrys. He accidentally sent you a nude, so he asked me to delete it before you could see it,” Rowan succinctly put it.

“That was mighty noble of him,” Aelin said, laughter shaking her voice. “And you might I add. I’m curious as to why he sent you, you aren’t always the most benevolent when it comes to Fen’s stupidity.”

Standing here in front of Aelin admitting his wrong doings had Rowan flustered, her outfit wasn’t helping matters either. He was distracted and rambling, and words just started spilling out of his mouth. “It wasn’t just for him, it was for me too. Fen’s knows I’m in love with you and he felt bad and—”

“Wait, what did you say?” Aelin’s hand darted out, landing on his chest.

“Shit…” That was when he realised what he’d said. That he’d dobbed himself in.

Aelin stepped closer, right into his personal space. She’d been this close to him a million times before, but this time it felt different. There was something charged between them. Rowan didn’t dare breathe, afraid to break whatever spell they were under. Aelin reached out the palm of her hand burning through his thin t-shirt.

“Rowan, what did you say?”

That long held breath shuddered out of him, there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide. It was now or never, and if he lied to her, Aelin would know it in a second.

“I said I was in love with you.”

Aelin stared at him for a long moment, then there was a cluster of rapid blinks and she shook her head just a little bit. Rowan’s heart threatened to break, his mind imagining all the devastating sentences she might say. None of those came, instead she glanced up at him with an almost shy expression, if she could ever be called shy.

“I thought it was just me,” Aelin whispered.

The words were said so quietly Rowan couldn’t be sure if he’d heard them or imagined them. “What?”

Aelin’s answer was to reach for his t-shirt again, this time up near his collar and pulling him down. Soft and inviting lips met his, the shock of it melting away as Aelin’s tongue swept over his lips. He groaned, on hand on her hip and the other on the small of her back bringing her closer. Aelin came willingly, her body melting against his. When his hand slid up her back to the nape of her neck she sighed, letting him angle her head the exact way he wanted.

Kissing Aelin lived up to every expectation—and then some. His fantasties never did her justice, there was something about the way she kissed him. It was like walking into a wildfire and letting it consume you. Rowan couldn’t get enough. They only stopped when he had to come up for air. He didn’t let her get far though.

Rowan held her, his chin resting on her head. When she laughed Rowan pulled back kissing Aelin’s cheek before she looked up at him.

“I can’t believe it took Fenrys sending me a nude for us to finally admit our feelings,” she said, her laughter shaking her voice.

“That was also not on my list of possibilities,” Rowan agreed with a light chuckle. “His situation is not one I’d ever be caught in.”

Aelin drew back to look up at him. “Wait, you mean you’ve never sent a nude before.” When Rowan shook his head her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I… no. Is that weird?” Rowan was suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

“Well, no. Maybe a touch unusual,” Aelin admitted.

There was an implication floating between Aelin’s words, and it had his hand tightening ever so slightly on her hip. “You have?”

Aelin gave him a smirk that told him she knew exactly what realm his emotions had wandered off to. He was getting jealous. “Every now and then, always tasteful though.”

Through the teeth cracking tightness of his jaw all Rowan could manage was soft, “Oh.”

The poorly hidden display of his emotions made Aelin laugh and she was kissing him again. The worry fading from him as the reality of what was happening really set in. His. Aelin was well on her way to being his and it was so godsdamned stupid of him to be jealous. Rowan wouldn’t let anything ruin this moment.

“Will you come back in?” Aelin said onto his lips, like she couldn’t bear to pull away.

With Aelin’s body pressed against him like this it was a tempting offer. But he was tired, and unless it was just him and Aelin he didn’t particularly feel like socialising. Plus, this was new. Rowan didn’t know how he was supposed to act, he certainly wouldn’t be able to pretend things hadn’t changed. He would give them away in half a second. There would be questions and he and Aelin hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it properly.

“I’m gonna go home,” Rowan said, kissing her in between words. “But tomorrow, I promise.”

He didn’t exactly know what he was promising, but tomorrow they would figure everything out.

“Okay,” Aelin said.

When she stepped away Rowan’s body screamed in protest. He would go home, fall asleep, and make tomorrow come that much sooner. Aelin was outright grinning as she took a few steps backward, eyeing him up with intent. It had heat rushing to Rowan’s cheeks made worse when she winked suggestively at him.

“Make sure you keep your phone close. Who knows what kind of messages are flying around these days.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say to that, what to think about the promise she was hinting at between the lines. No matter what, Rowan wouldn’t let his phone drift too far. When Aelin was gone from sight and Rowan composed himself, sending a quick message to Fenrys to let him know his mission was accomplished before starting on his way back home, to wait, and his outlook on life that much brighter.

~~~~~

There is a very fun part two in the works *smirks* @rowaelinscourt

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

stars above

for @throneofglassmicrofics August prompt "Indigo"

word count: 894

warnings: none hehe ;)

enjoy!!

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

A midnight breeze rustled softly through the thick carpet of grass beneath Aelin's bare feet as she walked slowly across the open field. In the long years since the breaking of the dam, Theralis had first withered and scorched to a hard platter of baked dirt, then gradually covered itself in a fine dusting of green. A scattering of wildflowers speckled the lush meadow that the plain had become, and the queen's lips curved into a gentle smile. Water beaded in the cup of her palm, and she let the drops tumble to the ground--an offering, a gesture of thanks.

In the middle of the plain, Aelin sat, then tipped backwards and laid down in the grass, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before opening wide to gaze into the deep indigo velvet of the night sky. Stars unfurled in silvery ribbons far away in the skies, and her eyes traced the familiar lines and dips of the constellations she had learned as a child, leaping from one bright flare of starlight to the next. Somewhere between the Lord of the North and Deanna's Bow, a tiny, inky void blotted the expanse of the stars.

She squinted hard at that ripple of darkness, wondering why it was there and why something told her she knew what it was. When she tipped her head sideways, viewing the sky from a different angle, the shape seemed more defined, somehow.

Like a doorway.

The wings inked onto her back pulsed, the Wyrdmarks written there flaring subtly in answer to the question that coiled around her thoughts. A doorway. Perhaps a doorway from another world, a lingering mark of the queen's descent back into the arms of her life and her love.

Question answered, Aelin's gaze drifted across the sky again, aimlessly wandering from one pinprick of flickering light to the next, searching the stars for another near-forgotten image. But the stars had shifted since she was a child, and the patterns that she had been able to trace even during her long, tormented years at the Assassins' Keep were not where she had found them. Teras blurred her vision, and as she swiped them on her sleeve, her mate's presence tugged gently at her heart.

Why are you crying, Fireheart? Even from as far away as the palace in Orynth, Rowan's concern was palpable.

She sniffled. The stars are different now, and I...I can't...

His understanding poured over her like a wave. I'll be there in a moment.

I'm at Theralis, you hovering buzzard, it isn't as if you can just flap your wings and appear here.

Wait and see. She could feel the faint rasp of his chuckle. Shaking her head, she stared deeper into the stars, jolting slightly when a warm, calloused hand touched her shoulder. "Fireheart."

"Rowan." When in the hells did Fenrys teach you to shadow-walk?

He laid down in the grass beside her, linking his tattooed fingers with hers. We've been practicing for a few months, at least.

"Could have given your wife a warning." She squeezed his hand.

"That wouldn't be any fun." Her buzzard flashed her a smug little grin and turned his eyes to the stars above. "Tell me, Fireheart. Who are you looking for?"

Tears glossed her vision at the depth of how well he understood her, at the simple, open way he asked who. "My...my parents." She flicked a stray tear off of her cheek. "When I was younger, in Rifthold, I'd look for them in the constellations some nights. I knew I could find the Lord of the North and follow his antlers, but when I was looking tonight, I..." A sigh shuddered through her. "It's been so many years, and the sky has shifted."

His thumb stroked up and down the back of her hand. "Can you find the Lord of the North for me, Aelin?" Her gaze traced across the sky, quickly locating the pattern of the stag, and she pointed to it. "Good. Now, I want you to trace up to his antlers and stop when you find the edge of the constellation." He guided her hand as she traced. "Now go east."

Her brows furrowed. "East? I've always looked north."

"I'm trying to account for the shift," he said. "There was a pattern I used to navigate when I was a youth, and as I grew older, it shifted east, enough that I eventually had to re-plot the charts."

She smirked. "That was a lovely history lesson, old man. I'm surprised you even remember your youth from such an advanced age."

I remember a good deal at such an advanced age, he rasped into her mind, the words tinted with promise. "This way." He guided her finger across the path of the stars, and when she stopped suddenly and shakily traced a shape he'd never charted, he twined his arms around her waist and held her as she inked the new placement of her parents' constellation into her heart.

"Thank you," she breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I miss them. Gods, so much."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm certain they're smiling on you from the afterlife, love."

"I hope so." She went quiet, and the pair of them laid there on the plain, watching the stars flicker in the night sky, until Aelin finally fell asleep.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

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@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

Forever thinking about when Rowan said

Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

yall i just BLAZED through penn cole’s kindred’s curse series (the 3 that are out) and i have no words. it is so damn good

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

not enough people are talking about Penn Cole’s, Kindred’s Curse series and it’s driving me crazy.

I need people to talk to about it! I need fanart!

If you like fantasy, slow burn romance, magic, gods, etc give it a try! It genuinely surprised me and now I can’t put them down.

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

aelin after seeing her large stock of pads

Look at Us Now - ch. 27

Fic masterlist

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

Warnings: NSFW, Remelle and other bombs

Words: 3,7k

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

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

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

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

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

“Alexa, what time is it?”

“It’s 4:48 a.m.,” Alexa replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that mean we’re having sex?”

Her glare was answer enough.

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

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

“I thought you were mad at me.”

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

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

Aelin shivered. “You better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shushed her. “Later.”

She hummed questioningly, eyes heavier each moment.

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

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

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

˜˜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you putting it back on the shelf?”

“I’m shopping with Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna move in together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think she’s reading?”

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

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

“I think so, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uncle Orlon did a surgee too, he—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remelle blinked. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin opened her ensuite’s cabinet door and—

Weird.

Her stock was nearly overflowing.

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

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

Weird.

Aelin took one step back. Another.

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

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

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

“I forgot to buy something.”

“Want some company?”

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

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

eeeeeep so excited to read this later

Look at Us Now - ch. 27

Fic masterlist

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

Warnings: NSFW, Remelle and other bombs

Words: 3,7k

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

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

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

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

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

“Alexa, what time is it?”

“It’s 4:48 a.m.,” Alexa replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that mean we’re having sex?”

Her glare was answer enough.

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

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

“I thought you were mad at me.”

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

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

Aelin shivered. “You better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shushed her. “Later.”

She hummed questioningly, eyes heavier each moment.

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

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

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

˜˜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you putting it back on the shelf?”

“I’m shopping with Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna move in together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think she’s reading?”

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

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

“I think so, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uncle Orlon did a surgee too, he—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remelle blinked. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin opened her ensuite’s cabinet door and—

Weird.

Her stock was nearly overflowing.

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

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

Weird.

Aelin took one step back. Another.

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

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

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

“I forgot to buy something.”

“Want some company?”

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

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

THEYRE SO CUTE

Maria plz bring back the booty call i need it to continue

Your wish is my command, Nonnie! <33

The Booty-Call Dare - part 3

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, July prompt “Healing”

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: idiots idioting

Words: 1064 (sorry!!!!)

The decision to put Rowan’s key in separate keychains from her car and apartment was much more emotional than logistical, Aelin thought as she searched the bottom of her big work purse at his apartment door.

Having Rowan’s key was okay, a rational decision, but having it along with her own felt like too much. Looking after him while he healed from two broken ribs was inevitable—Aelin had work most of the day, but she was still the person he was closest with in town—this wasn’t what she was confused about.

She knocked on the door before opening it to make her presence known, just to be sure.

“Over here,” he called from the kitchen.

Aelin thought she loved that pre-hookup anticipation, but that hour of wait became a whole week, two more to come—the situation brought a queasy feeling in her stomach, always skipping between overjoyed and terrified.

In the kitchen, Aelin found her friend in a clumsy attempt to clean a white powder off the floor with a broom, an open jar of creatinine on the counter before him.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin said slowly, in a low but chastising tone. “You’re not allowed anywhere near a broom… or the gym!”

“I’m not! I—“ Rowan paused under her pointed look, busted between a broom and gym supplements. He sighed. “Have I told you how much I hate this?”

Aelin came closer to hug him, and decided to give him a leap of faith—he’d mentioned before taking creatinine even on his days off the gym, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to exercise with two broken ribs. These days of rest were taking a toll on him, she knew for a fact that Rowan hated feeling useless.

She pecked his lips. “My poor baby.” A few strokes on his cheek as Aelin struggled not to laugh. “Is all this rest stressing you out?”

“Not funny,” Rowan grumbled. Still, he leaned in to give her a warm kiss, biting her lips. “But I like this.”

“You like what?”

“When you call me ‘baby.’”

Shit. Those butterflies again.

Pesticides. Fly swatters. Nets. She needed to kill those butterflies because being with Rowan romantically, much like their friendship, felt too easy, too safe—too dangerous, risking the fall when their booty-call was fulfilled and she was left with nothing.

It was supposed to be a no-strings-attached hookup, and now they’ve been chastely canoodling for a week. It was the longest she’s ever waited before having sex with someone—this was an okay time, but they’ve been seeing each other daily, and Aelin never waited seven dates to sleep with a guy.

Does it count as a date if you’re dining together and kissing while waiting to fulfill a no-strings-attached booty-call?

“I’ll call you that again…” Aelin slid her hands from his head to his shoulders. “If you let me clean this mess. And wash your hair.”

Aelin didn’t miss the slightly greasy aspect of it, or the reason for it—his arm movements being limited due to the fracture.

Rowan ducked his head, his cheeks gained an adorable reddish color. When she looked at him, all thoughts and doubts that were floating around her like dust settled back down, and she only had half a mind to worry—Rowan was either kissing her thoughts away or driving her insane with his stubbornness.

Rowan opened his mouth to argue, but experience stopped him.

He doesn’t want to “take advantage” of her help.

She’s doing it whether he likes it or not.

They’ve had this conversation many times, in many ways this week.

To soften the blow to his feeling worthless, Aelin pressed their foreheads together and said in a sultry tone, “Wait for me in the tub, will ya?”

Rowan looked down at his torso and let out a pained breath. “Just so you know, this is not how I pictured you and me in the tub for the first time.”

Aelin chuckled and kissed his cheek before shipping him off to the bathroom. The creatinine mess was quick to clean, but she stayed a bit longer to assess things. His house was suspiciously clean. Too clean for someone who wasn’t supposed to do most house chores.

At the bathroom, she found him already dunked in water, patiently waiting. Aelin sat at the head of the tub and grabbed the bottle he’d strategically placed close to her: 2 in 1: shampoo & conditioner, the bottle said, before a huge picture of a pine tree. A huge upgrade from his ‘one soap for everything’ system.

“Very high-end stuff. Are you opening a hair salon, Buzzard?”

“I’ve got this little tuft now.” Rowan pointed at the short strands on the top of his head. “Gotta take care of it.”

Aelin had barely begun to massage his scalp when his eyes fell blissful closed, a serene, close-lipped smile on his lips.

“You’re no better than a house cat,” she said, massaging his head. He let out a low noise in his throat that might very well have been a purr.

It happens in moments like this, when Aelin looks at him and his mere existence sends her dangerous thoughts like Oh my God, I think I like you. It wouldn’t be a problem, as long as she found metaphorical pesticides to kill the butterflies soon.

Fingers in his hair, she leaned down to peer at his face. “Is this when you assume you’re better off telling me if you can’t do something?”

However, Rowan took advantage of their proximity to tug her face closer for a messy kiss. The position was a little awkward at first, but it got better when Aelin moved to his side, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Rowan’s kiss was slow, he hungrily explored her mouth with a rough touch on her hips. The fire he ignited under her skin made her melt into a needy puddle under his touch. Aelin kissed and nipped the skin of his neck, then went back to his mouth, pressing herself against him. It was only when they broke the kiss that she realized his wet body dampened her white shirt, making it near transparent—

“Fuck,” Rowan muttered under his breath, eyes on her torso before he sneaked his hands under Aelin’s shirt, one hand holding her waist and the other teasing her breast through the lace bra.

She moaned into the kiss and leaned closer to Rowan, but that single movement made her lose her balance; in the next moment, Aelin had fallen into the bathtub.

If she and Rowan couldn’t keep it together, the cold water did the trick and tampered the mood, Aelin realized as she laughed it off.

Rowan tugged her closer for a cuddle and kissed the top of her head, knowing they’d just found themselves on the verge of a forbidden strenuous activity.

One week down, two more to go. Aelin would never admit that the wait wasn’t so bad.

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

Thinking today about how Rhys constantly uses his body to physically shield Feyre:

Acomaf, Chapter 49

Acomaf, Chapter 65

Acowar, Chapter 48

[tothestarsandwhateverend]

the ending had me gasping

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN

The Courtship Deception - Part 11: Fracture

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

I also used the Yacht prompt from @rowaelinprompts!!

This is me posting and running away byeee

Warnings: none?

Words: 965

Rowan’s turbulent engagement had nothing and everything to do with his bride. Regardless, he’d spare no effort to take the weight off of her shoulders and treasure the engagement’s good moments with her.

For the last romantic hangout before the wedding, Rowan picked the least polluted lake close to the city and borrowed one of the Galathynius’ yacht—not the big one for parties, but the smaller one reserved for close friends and family. They were both on the deck, lying on a hammock-like net that allowed them to see the water under them.

As if this would make him pay attention to the lake when Aelin wore a red bikini so small it couldn’t exist in a three-dimensional space.

They laid on their sides facing each other, soaking in that blissful silence while Aelin appreciatively ran her hand through his torso and shoulder.

“Are you sure you’ve got this all figured out?” she asked for the second or third time today.

Rowan stiffened, then forced himself to loosen up and gave her a lazy grin. He was insecure about his own ability to pull this off, yes, but he didn’t need to stress his bride right before the wedding.

“You…” Rowan kissed her jaw, cheek and nose. “The only thing you need to worry about is getting on that altar.” A slow kiss on the mouth this time. “All pretty and pampered for me. You should put on something pretty enough to post pictures with, but not so much I can’t ruin it later.”

Aelin put their foreheads together, eyes closed as she caressed his cheek. “You sure? Because I have a plan if you’re not. I know people who would benefit from us getting married.”

He leaned away, frowning. “Who? Your ex-boyfriends?”

Come on, she seemed to say with her eyes.

Rowan let out a dry laugh. “I’ll pass.”

“Very well, then.” A sigh. “Also, we never discussed what we’re doing after we’re married.”

Yes, they haven’t, and for a reason that kept him up a night.

She continued, “My dad is convinced we’re moving to Doranelle after we marry. Is that what you think we should do?

“I don’t know, Fireheart, this is something you should be telling me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aelin, I’m not marrying you to cage you.” Rowan fiddled with the fingers on her left hand, trying and failing not to show his nerves too much as he said, “Once we’re married, you’re free.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You’re missing the point.” Rowan ran a hand through his hand, staring at the gentle crash of the lake’s small waves while he searched for the right words to explain his plan. “It’s not about what I want. You can use my last name or keep yours, live with me or move to the Red Desert if you wish. Once we marry, you’re free from your father to do whatever you want.”

Gulls flew by, crying out in a way that Rowan couldn’t help but relate. As Aelin regarded him with a profound silence, he knew that this was it. All the time Rowan wondered if this was real or he was just fucking himself over to get a broken heart in return—she was about to lay his fate in front of him.

“Though what you’re doing is much appreciated…” Aelin trailed, then beheld him for a moment with such tenderness and sincerity he couldn’t look away.

“I love you, Rowan, and I will follow you to whatever end.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. But his brows narrowed slightly. “To whatever end?”

She nodded, interlacing their fingers together without taking her eyes off his.

Rowan squeezed her hand. “You said you wanted to travel without people following your every step, but I hope you can make an exception for me.”

“Sounds perfect, actually.”

She grinned, and the feeling it evoked in him made all the effort he was making look like nothing compared to it. Rowan would easily start a war for that smile alone.

“And Aelin?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

She pushed Rowan’s chest so he could lay on his back, then rested her head atop it. If Aelin could read into his erratic heartbeat, at least they’d be married in a couple of days.

˜

Later that day, Rowan was summoned for the umpteenth time since settling the engagement—the wedding planner was the worst of all, but this time it was Rhoe who requested him on his office.

And by the frightened look his secretary wore, his soon-to-be father-in-law wasn’t having a good day.

The man was already waiting for him, and the air inside the office felt eerie. The entire time they exchanged pleasantries, it lacked the false warmth Rhoe used to compliment Rowan’s false title.

“Do you know about Aelin’s mother?” The older man finally asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t need to remind you about the ties your family has to the Ashryvers, do I?”

“You don’t, sir.”

He leaned back in his chair, regarding him with a sinister smirk. “Now, imagine my surprise when, after I send the invitations, Aelin’s uncle calls me to congratulate on the wedding and says how surprised he is that you decided to marry someone with royal blood.” Rhoe cocked his head, the lethal intensity of his glare piercing through the faux-prince. “I’m sure you already know how our conversation went after.”

He swallowed. A cold, paralyzing fear spread through his body—what frightened Rowan wasn’t the man before him, but how he held Aelin’s fate in his greedy hands.

“I can imagine, sir.”

Rhoe opened a drawer and pulled a stack of papers Rowan knew too well. “Is there anything you want to add before we go over the penalties for breach of contract?”

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[tothestarsandwhateverend]

bahahaha rowan is such a dweeb for that ��

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

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

The Booty-Call Dare - part 2

Read part 1 here!

Warnings: physical injury

Words: 1,6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would be in about 57 minutes.

˜˜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rowan, your chest—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put your shirt back on.”

“I— what?”

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

˜˜

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

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

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

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

“What about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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