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Some Rowalin hugs of their reencounter in Queen of Shadows, it´s been a while since i drew something softer 🥺

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Don't mind me, just crying cause I'm re-browsing through the books & realized in Heir of Fire when Aelin/Celaena says:

"Because I am lost," she whispered onto the earth. "And I do not know the way."

It was what she had never been able to tell Nehemia--that for ten years, she had been unsure how to find the way home, because there was no home left.

Her mother does not reply. That decades silent voice, calling her “Fireheart” asking why? Why does she cry? Suddenly just… stops?.. as Rowan enters.

Right after those words, Rowan enters.

Rowan, who calls her Fireheart (same as her mothers voice did when it began speaking to her).

Rowan, whose eyes are pine green eyes, with hair of silver; same as Terrasen (her homes) colors.

Storm winds and ice crackled against her skin before she registered Rowan sitting down beside her, legs out, palms braced behind him in the moss.

Rowan, who smells like snow; the very smell she recognizes as home.

She raised her head, but didn't bother to wipe her face as she stared across the glittering lake.

Rowan, who she immediately recognizes, who she knows without sight or sound (much like the voice); who she finds in the dark, like a star (a constellation) a compass (like the Lord of the North that always points home) & one that she recognizes just as easily, knowing where to find it in the sky even beyond her blurred tears.

Rowan, who is the embodiment of her home; even then. Soon to be in the Queen of Shadows days (before he even reaches her) she’s reaching for him in the night. And as called in Kingdom of Ash when she is “safe”, when she is finally “home”; in Terrasen or not. Her person that is described as “her way back to the light”… so she is no longer lost. — No, voice answered, because Rowan was the answer.

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Aelin & Rowan on their way to Arobynn’s for dinner with the ~ almond oil ~

Which I should have remembered to draw in here somewhere

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Feysand♥

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Celaena: *Kisses Rowan's cheek*

Rowan: What was that?

Celaena: Affection.

Rowan: Disgusting Rowan: Do it again.

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Forever thinking about when Rowan said

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

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“Come back to me”

…

“I came back”

I AM IN TEARSSSSSSSS

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I LOVE Rowan and Aelin they are just such a cute couple.

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Check my Heart - Masterlist

Prologue/ 1

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I love Rowan as a partner for Aelin because from the moment they decide to be friends instead of enemies, she’s like it for him. 

Rowan Whitethorn isn’t out here with like a list of goals and ambitions, and if he does have a list it’s like:

how do i best protect and serve and worship my queen and goddess divine aelin

does aelin need me rn better go check

note to self: a e l i n

This is not a story of Rowan’s radical self improvement in order to be with Aelin. It’s a story in which they improve themselves together but don’t enter into a romantic relationship until he’s like, completely and utterly committed to her. And after they happen as a couple, rowan never makes his other issues (Lyria, feelings of worthlessness, guilt) aelin’s problem, nor does her ever try and alter her life in order to make her a better fit for him.

Aelin wants to be queen? Rowan’s going to help her get there. 

Aelin wants to get married in the middle of the night for no apparent reason? Rowan knows she’s got some shit planned but sure he’ll do it for her. 

Aelin gets possessed by a goddess who wants to take over her body? Rowan is like okay today’s the day i face down a literal goddess im okay w it

Aelin has issues she doesn’t want to discuss? Rowan won’t force her to discuss them but he will make sure she eats and gets on a regular sleep schedule!

Aelin gets captured by an evil demon queen? Rowan counts the days and minutes until he finds her.

Aelin thinks she has to sacrifice her life for the lock? Rowan is out here being the only SINGLE CHARACTER IN KINGDOM OF ASH who comes up with a plan to try and SAVE AELIN. 

It’s refreshing that his story never becomes more important or as important as hers. It’s nice that Aelin never takes a backseat to the romance between her and Rowan, that the plot is always about her, rather than about them. And part of this is because Rowan doesn’t want to make it about himself. In fact he doesn’t even think he can offer her much and in thinking this way he gives her the most valuable type of partner: a selfless one. 

(god just think about how few people aelin has had truly fight for her. I mean once she leaves Terrasen, it’s like Sam until her gets murdered, and same with Nehemia. Chaol and Dorian are largely confused and useless in CoM. Lysandra is the other person who fights for Aelin as much as Rowan and I stan her for it)

He’s very much her partner in everything, and he’s 100% completely comfortable with being a stay at home warrior dad/husband whiles she’s out running terrasen and killing her enemies. 

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LADY JANE GREY & LORD GUILDFORD DUDLEY — 1.03 "With A Girl Like You"

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Is that so? It is so. Really? Really. Then prove it.

LADY JANE GREY & LORD GUILDFORD DUDLEY — 1.04 "Bluebird is Dead"

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If you could recommend one of your fics to me which would it be and why?

It depends on what you like most, Nonnie! I’d say:

Look at Us Now is my baby, but it’s a bit white picket fencey, with the babies and pregnancy and some scenes showing where the babies came from LOL. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I love it;

URDAD is pretty much the opposite, being a best friend’s dad with lots of kinky smutty smut and no kids before the epilogue;

Dick Awards is just unhinged smut. Idek how to describe it. I think I wrote ‘cock’ (or synonyms) more than I put commas in it;

Mastermind is the fluffiest I’ve ever fluffed and very safe for work;

Golden Tattoo is a hurt comfort pregnancy au, while Catastrophic Blues is hurt hurt SFW with a HEA.

These ^ are some of the most read ones, but I’d say just click on one you vibe with and go!!

And thank you for the interest in my work! Makes my little gooey heart the gooiest 🥺❤️

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part i - rowaelin's wedding night + ensuing consummation (strongly strongly STRONGLY recommend reading Ruination, or chapter 3 at the very least, beforehand for context and a better description of the wedding)

warnings: language, sex | word count: 2.2k

masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Half-clinging to the ship’s rail, Rowan’s stomach heaved as they hit a particularly rough wave and it took everything he had not to vomit over the side. Not that there was much left to purge from his stomach. The crossing would take ten days, the captain said. Ten days of seasickness, ten days of barely being able to keep anything down.

Rowan longed for land steady beneath his feet, the scent of brine traded for earth and greenery and birds chirping in the trees. Leave the seas to the sailors. He was a man meant for solid ground.

With dirt beneath his boots, even foreign dirt, tension flooded from his body. Four soldiers with deep green capes awaited them at the docks, sent as escorts to make sure their prince-consort-to-be arrived safely in Orynth for the wedding. Accented common tongue shifted to Terrasen’s native language as their horses ambled along, interspersed with laughter as they joked with each other.

The Moonbeam twins rode on either side of Rowan, day and night. Fenrys kept up a seemingly endless supply of chatter, random facts and little stories. Connall was quiet, seemingly content to observe their surroundings. Days passed in the saddle. Then, they reached Orynth’s gates and reality came crashing down.

Rowan was not permitted to see his future wife before the wedding, nor she him. An archaic decision made by his aunt, to which the king and queen of Terrasen disproved of but agreed anyhow. The whole marriage had been arranged years ago with no input from those whose lives were the most affected by it.

Here he was, in a city he didn’t know with a language he didn’t speak about to marry a woman he had never met. To say there was no resentment, no anger would be a lie. It burrowed deep inside his heart, hiding in the darkest of shadows.

“You look quite handsome, nephew.” Queen Maeve stood in the doorway, sending the handmaidens putting the finishing touches on his ensemble scurrying away. “Shall we?” His aunt offered her arm, appearing a polite suggestion but beneath an iron command. Twin shadows peeled off the walls and followed. His aunt deposited him at the doors of the temple, all but abandoning him to his fate. To her, this wedding was nothing but another transaction, buying peace with one realm while waging war on another. He was a pawn in whatever game she played, a game spanning decades and realms.

As stragglers shuffled in and found seats, Rowan stood in an alcove by the doors with a light flush sat high on his cheeks, hands sweaty as nerves ran rampant. The longer he stood there, the greater the urge to turn tail and flee. It bubbled in his chest, rising into his throat and threatening to burst free and take flight. Heat pricked at his eyes, thickened in his throat. 

Frantically, he signed to Connall that he couldn’t do it. Connall’s hand wrapped around the back of Rowan’s neck, roughly bringing him into his space and resting his forehead on Rowan’s. “Just breathe,” the darker half of the twins rasped, voice rough with disuse. Opposing his twin in almost all things, where Fenrys chattered, Connall listened. Spoken words of his were few and far between, and he preferred the ones articulated by fingers and hand motions. “Breathe. It’s not the end of the world, rather a door to a new chapter. Make the best of it.”

Rowan’s heart began to slow its racing, anxiety receding like the tides. His laugh was rough as he pulled back. “Fuck, when did you become so wise and philosophical?” Connall just smiled, lips sealed once more as he signed that it was a secret. “Thank you,” Rowan professed, genuine. It struck him in that moment how much he would miss the Moonbeam twins.

Horns sounded: Rowan’s cue to walk down the long aisle to the altar. Standing atop it, he allowed his gaze to wander. Tucked away, nearly out of sight, was a face, a man, he thought he would never see again.

Then the princess of Terrasen approached and he tried not to look too much of a fool as he got the first glimpse of his soon-to-be wife.

“You look … radiant,” Rowan confessed, inwardly cringing at the descriptor he used, as she stood before him. Those were the first words between them, a moment’s murmur as the priestess joined their hands.

“Well, I should hope so,” the princess fired back, a glint in gold-ringed turquoise eyes. They could say nothing more, the priestess prompting them to recite vows that felt stiff and foreign on Rowan’s tongue.

———————————

With the proclamation that they were now husband and wife, Aelin pressed a chaste kiss to her now-husband’s cheek, inhaling a whiff of pine. They were bundled into a carriage en route to the palace, alone for the very first time.

Rowan Whitethorn was handsome, there was no doubt about it. Vividly green eyes watched the city streets pass through the window, silver lashes hardly blinking. Silver hair was shorn short, barely long enough to run fingers through. He was tall and well-built, possessing a body honed by the demands of war, if the calluses on his hands were anything to go by. Strange inkings scrawled their way from his hairline down the left side of his face to his collar until they reappeared to span the back of his hand.

“You’re staring, princess.” The words were a low rumble, that forest green gaze flicking to her for less than a heartbeat before returning to watch the city go by.

Crossing her arms and raising a brow, Aelin asked haughtily, “Do you have a problem with that, husband?” She was not looking to draw blood but rather offering an invitation to dance.

Her husband turned the full weight of his gaze onto her, looking and looking until she swore a millennia had passed and he had every inch of her committed to memory. Aelin shoved down the urge to cross her arms and retreat, to forfeit the very skirmish she had begun. At long last, he blinked and shifted his gaze back to the window.

“What was that?” she snapped, heat and hunger making her cranky.

“A simple return of the favor,” he said as the carriage rumbled through the palace gates. “Don’t start something you can’t take being on the receiving end of, wife.”

“Why, you—”

His savior arrived in the form of a footman opening the door. Rowan smirked as he climbed out, shifting it to a polite, demure smile as he offered her his hand to help her down. How gentlemanly of him. Aelin took it and made sure to leave a nice dusty footprint on the toe of his shiny, dust-free boots.

Beelining straight for the table groaning under the weight of all the sweets piled upon it, Aelin snatched a slice of her beloved chocolate hazelnut cake. The midday sun made the chocolate ganache melty and a tad too warm for her liking, but Aelin didn’t mind too much. Summer wine was crisp on her tongue, refreshingly cool compared to the blazing sun.

Next thing she knew, the sun was setting. The day had been a blur, much of it spent mingling with guests and accepting congratulations on her wedding. Nevermind that she had chosen none of it. Her new husband had been steady as the ground beneath her feet the entire time, cool and calm. A well-practiced act. Little things gave him away, like the feathering of the muscle in his jaw and the fiddling with of the new ring on his finger.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the prince consort strode through the thinning crowd. Aelin took his offered arm, dread settling heavy in her belly.

It was time.

Aelin’s maid stripped her of her finery, swapping her shift for a white nightgown that fell to mid-thigh. Golden hair cascaded down her back, freed from its pins. She slipped her arms into a silken robe and tied the sash tight, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The maid tidied up around her, wishing her princess a good night. A different servant appeared to lead Aelin to the guest wing and to her husband’s room.

It was simple compared to the splendor of her own. It was also overcrowded. Seven people, including Aelin and her husband: the servant who escorted her, her parents, a woman she presumed Queen Maeve, and a male companion dressed in Doranelle blue.

“Is it not enough, all that you have asked thus far?” Rhoe questioned, the beginnings of a growl slipping in. “Every archaic tradition you requested we adhere to, we have done. Now you demand their marriage must be consummated with witnesses. It’s an antiquated practice and I won’t have it! She’s my daughter, not some common whore.”

Doranelle’s queen eyed the king of Terrasen. “We need proof that it was done.” Her tone was flat as the windless sea and just as unnerving. “You do not have to watch if it distresses you so.”

Their argument continued for a minute longer until her father realized it was a futile effort, that he was a singular wave bashing against the cliff in the hopes of tearing it down. Resignation weighed heavy on his shoulders.

Aelin tucked her nose into the familiar warmth of her father’s chest, seeking solace in his hug. Rhoe cradled the back of her head, kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, fireheart,” he murmured. “I didn’t want this for you.” She only squeezed him tighter, a tightness in her throat warning her that words wouldn’t come without tears in their wake.

“Well,” Queen Maeve scowled, waving a hand, “get on with it.”

A handful of steps took Aelin from the doorway to where her new husband stood by the foot of the bed, back muscles flexing underneath the dark blue of his robe. The servant who escorted her took her robe and then Rowan’s, slipping out the door on the heels of the king. He stood before her in low-slung, loose fitting sleep pants, scars marking his skin.

“Aelin,” he exhaled, leaning in so their words stayed between them, “I’m sorry.” Callused hands on her upper arms spun them so his body shielded her. It was a courtesy she hadn’t known he would offer.

A foreign prince knelt between her legs, his silver hair glowing gold in the warm glow of the lamps. Aelin tried to avert her eyes as best she could to give him privacy in the time it took his cock to harden. Eyes green as the Oakwald focused on her, his body hovering over hers. He blinked, looking down their bodies and balancing on one arm.

“I’ve never,” Aelin confessed in a rushed whisper, feeling something poke at her. She had fooled around, sure, but had never gone all the way. Princesses, especially ones promised to another, weren’t allowed that luxury.

Rowan stilled. When he met her gaze, sorrow warred with anger in the green. “Try to relax,” he said softly. She tried, with little luck. “This is going to hurt.” The tip of his cock nudged at her entrance, then pushed in a tiny bit. He hissed at how tight she was and Aelin bit down hard enough to taste blood.

Aelin whimpered, tears stinging her eyes and blurring her sight.

“I’m so sorry,” her husband said, sounding pained. As if it hurt him as much as it did her.

His seed was hot inside her as Aelin lay on the bed, eyes squeezed shut while Queen Maeve assessed and deemed their coupling acceptable. She could feel it dripping down her thighs as she walked back to her own rooms, clinging to her mother like she was a little girl again. Then Aelin’s arms were wrapped around her knees, the steaming hot water of the bath and lavender scent doing little to soothe her. The sob slipped free, too big to hold in anymore. Evalin tucked her daughter's face into her chest, uncaring of the tears that stained her bodice.

———————————

Rowan wandered the dark halls of Orynth’s palace, sleepless and unable to clear the sight of the princess, now his wife, crying silently beneath him. A small courtyard was awash with moonlight, a burbling fountain in the center. The day’s heat lingered late into the night, though the paving stones were cool beneath his bare feet.

Anger towards his aunt burned like wildfire. He hated her for what she had made him do.

Rowan couldn’t even seek solace in the stars, so different from those back in Doranelle. Sitting with his back against the fountain’s edge and arms wrapped around his knees, Rowan tried to breathe around the ever-growing lump in his chest. It rose like a cresting wave and he could do little but succumb. He cried, achingly alone for the first time in his life.

Fenrys and Connall would be leaving in the morning with his aunt. Lorcan was here, temporarily, then he too would leave to guard his ward.

All he had in this foreign land was the princess he had married, a young woman who was guaranteed to hate him after tonight.

———————————

this turned out a little a lot more angsty than i thought it would be (: i'll have you know @sassyhobbits begged for this

@nalgenewhore ✧ @celestialend ✧ @shyvioletcat ✧ @sassyhobbits ✧ @mariaofdoranelle ✧ @writtenonreceipts ✧ @destinysbullshit ✧ @goddess-aelin ✧ @illyrianbeauty ✧ @rosalineroses ✧ @elentiyawhitethorn ✧ @babipotato ✧ @dreamingofalba ✧ @waternymphia ✧ @fancysludgeshoelamp ✧ @i-am-a-lost-girl16 ✧ @1islessthan3books ✧ @leiawritesstories ✧ @miceenscene ✧ @queenophelia

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Everybodyyy told me "You won't like Rowan at first mennenememen"

But in the scene where Aelin backs into him after she sees Maeve, MY GOD WAS I ALREADY DONW BAD. and when he bit her???? Just kill me already. Like what's the point

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jane & guildford + soft touches

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ARC readers wanted for Spark of Pursuit!

Hi guys, I’m so happy to say that ARC signups are open for my book! If you’re interested in receiving an early digital copy to review, it would mean the world to me if you’d consider signing up.

My cat Tato has spent a lot of time watching me edit this book, so he’s really excited. Don’t disappoint Tato.

Thank you!! ❤️

More about Spark of Pursuit

Catching a vigilante sounds simple… until you find out that vigilante is your soulbound.

Aravenna Kalladine isn’t just used to keeping secrets; she is one. Publicly, she’s the jilted heir of the world’s largest anti-magic arms company, as Mortal as her late parents and those they protected from dangerous Immortals. But privately, Ara’s guarding a truth that could bring that legacy crumbling down: she has magic.

When a shipment of dangerous weaponry is stolen, she’s forced to put her secret at risk. And nobody can see her face.

Detective Graydon Marr doesn’t believe the rumours. Tasked with recovering Kalla Technologies’ missing weapons, he doesn’t have time to worry about spark-wielding vigilantes. But when he comes face-to-mask with the woman herself, something deeper than intrigue clicks between them. The vigilante is his soulbound—a rare, fated love Graydon’s spent centuries believing he wouldn’t find. Even worse? She’s a suspect.

As the two navigate the treacherous snows of Veilfall, a city of clashing magic and deadly tech, their search for the missing weapons not only reveals a terrorist plot, but pulls them closer. What starts as a flirtatious game of cat-and-mouse soon builds to a high-stakes pursuit fuelled by feelings they can no longer ignore. But if Graydon wants to learn his soulbound’s identity, he must confront his loyalties and earn her trust. And if Ara wants to finally shed the scars of her clandestine childhood and get her happy ending, she’ll have to face the hardest question of all:

Can Graydon Marr love the woman behind the mask?

Preorder here!