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mariamuses · 3 years

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stay stay stay | rowaelin au

summary: aelin's and rowan's relationship takes a little tumble and, as always, taylor swift is the answer

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this fic is a collab with the amazing and fantastic human @stardustsroses who, even though she's on hiatus, took the time to write with me and hype me up.

find it on ao3

***

Aelin’s been cooped up all day, going so far as skipping her dance lesson, but she needs this.

Being a literature student while keeping a dance scholarship and having a boyfriend who’s also an athlete is not an easy feat; and this week of midterms has kicked her ass very thoroughly.

As soon as she’s done with her last exam, she drops by her room to leave everything behind and pick up her football jersey, the one with her boyfriend’s name and number on it.

They’ve barely seen each other this week, and the only thing that would make her feel instantly better was Rowan. Not even dance made the cut, she was too burnt out for it to work.

So, even though she would much rather chill with him on her couch and cuddle as they watch a movie, she drives herself to the stadium because he’s about to play one of the most important games of his career and she’s going to play her girlfriend role well and she’s going to cheer for him.

She tries to park near the entrance but as soon as she turns the street that leads to the arena, hoards of people meet her; so instead, she parks at the next spot she finds and walks the rest of the way.

Once she gets to the gates, she shows the security guard her annual pass and he indicates the way to the section she’s become very familiar with after a full semester of dating the star of the team.

The game is a close call and Aelin screams her lungs out every single time Rowan scores, but he doesn’t seem to notice her on the stands. It ticks her off, but she was late so maybe he looked beforehand and doesn’t want to search for her again and break his concentration.

Finally, the game ends and the Terrasen Kingflames take the victory, which means the afterparty is going to be packed with cheerleaders, football players and their significant others, as well as athletes from other sports; instead of a sad all-you-can-drink get together to forget their woes.

Aelin heads towards the locker room doors, waiting for Rowan and the rest of the players to get out of the showers to head to the party.

She can already see Lysandra, Manon and Elide waiting for their men, so she approaches them.

Lysandra sees her coming and screams, throwing her arms out in a tight hug:

“Ace! You made it! Wait, how long have you been here?”

Aelin snorts, sensing the inebriation coming from her friend.

“I made it to the last forty minutes of the game, but I was so hyper-fixated on Rowan that I didn’t even see you guys..”

The three girls boo, making their sadness known at the fact.

“Your boy played well, girl,” comments Manon, bumping her shoulder slightly.

Aelin sighs.

“Yeah, I know… he didn’t seem to spot me at the stands, though. And I screamed. Very loud.”

Elide shakes her head and brings an arm around Aelin’s shoulder.

“You know guys, Ace. They can only think about one thing at a time or they implode. He was probably too busy thinking how he’d celebrate with you after the game; with his head between your-”

“Elide!” interrupts Aelin, covering Elide’s mouth with her hand. “Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Salvaterre really has corrupted her,” Manon snorts. “She was such a sweet, innocent soul and now-”

She’s cut off by the sound of the doors opening, letting out the hoard of players, freshly showered, with new uniforms on and ready to celebrate.

Aedion, Lorcan and Dorian head towards them as they spot all the girls looking for them, and proceed to kiss their girlfriends; which leaves Aelin searching for Rowan, who’s the last one to come out.

“Babe!” calls out Aelin, while waving her hand above the six foot players around her.

Rowan lifts his head at the sound of her voice, and drags himself towards her, accepting the compliments from his teammates for the incredible game he played. When he gets to her, she hugs him fiercely and whispers in his ear:

“Well done, buzzard. You were amazing.”

He chuckles at the nickname and asks:

“What are you doing here, Ace? Weren’t you swamped with exams and assignments?”

The comment makes Aelin pull back and frown at his boyfriend, green eyes looking into her blue and gold ones.

“Why, aren’t you glad I came to see you?”

Rowan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head unconvincingly.

“No, no, no. I’m glad. Just... surprised.”

“Well then, I’m here. And we’re going to celebrate!” Aelin decides. “Wanna go home and… relax?” she says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“You know I can’t, Fireheart. I need to go to the afterparty as the captain. It’s a good morale-boosting exercise for the team.”

Aelin sighs but nods.

“Yeah, I know... I was just tempting you. One day, it’ll work.” she concludes, determination taking over her face.

Rowan chuckles and heads towards the parking lot, pulling her with him while he talks to some of the freshmen on the team, still discussing the game.

***

Aelin and Rowan get off her car and walk hand-in-hand towards the frat house that’s holding the afterparty, booming loudly even from the outside.

As they near the door, Aelin slowly stops, gathering strength to face what’s inside; but Rowan heads on, not noticing her girlfriend hesitating.

Aelin frowns at his back, but hurries to catch up to him before he gets lost in the insane amount of people the house is hosting at the moment.

“So, buzzard; how did you do in your midterms?” she asks, curious about what his week had been like since they’ve last seen each other.

“Good” he states nonchalantly.

“Okay… and the rest of your week? How was-”

“Hey, Whitethorn!”

Rowan whips his head towards the shout and grins at the man it came from.

“Moonbeam, my man! Good game!”

The blonde player bows his head in appreciation and starts shouting again:

“You’re one to talk, MVP of the league! You smashed it out there!”

“Thanks boyo! Have fun at the party!”

“Will do, brother.”

Aelin watched the interaction with curiosity and slight unbelief at the amount of testosterone floating in the air, following Rowan into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Anyway” she continues. “As I was saying before we were loudly interrupted by-”

“Rowan!” a chorus of voices sing-sung.

A group of eight cheerleaders circled her boyfriend, separating their linked hands and pushing Aelin out of the way.

“Hey, excuse me!” protested Aelin, throwing her hands in the air.

The cheerleaders however, were too busy fawning over Rowan to be affected by it.

They kept touching him gently and vying for his attention, which he didn’t seem to mind, so Aelin decided to just go get a drink for herself and come back in a few minutes, when the sharks were done with their prey.

Stepping into the kitchen she couldn’t help but feel cheated.

Who was Rowan thinking she was?

He’s barely paid her any attention since the game ended.

She actually skipped a dance class for him and this is how he repaid her?

No.

She couldn’t think that way.

She’s sure he loves her, she can’t be doubting his love for her because of a few midterms and silly girls.

But he surely could try a little to be excited, since she made the effort, right?

Opening the fridge, she finds a beer can and takes it out, chugging half in one sip, trying to drown her jealous thoughts in alcohol.

“Ace! You came here too?” Lysandra says, slipping into the kitchen with a red cup in her hand.

“Yup. I did. Not that Rowan seems to care.”

Her friend gasps dramatically, her black eyes going wide as her mouth does.

“What did he do?”

Aelin shrugs.

“I don’t know Lys, it’s more what he didn’t do.”

She pauses, and the other girl motions her to continue with her free hand, curiosity filling her posture.

“Okay, see how I just paused for dramatic effect and you begged me to continue? Why can’t he do that?”

“Huh?” Lysandra mumbles, confused about the development of the conversation.

“Yeah! Like, I had midterms this week right?”

Lys nodded.

“And I have been swamped with assignments too, so we’ve barely seen each other; other than a five minute facetime every other night. And yet, when I finished today, I dropped my ballet class-”

Her friend gasps.

“I know, right? Me, skipping ballet?” she agrees. “And I come to his freaking game, and I cheer for him and he doesn’t even glance my way for more than two seconds. But that’s okay, ‘cause maybe he didn’t see me. But then I met him at the locker and drove him here, and I even stayed here! And yet, the second anyone but me claims his attention, he’s like a puppy with a new toy, but when I do it’s like I’m annoying.”

“Men are bastards” states Lysandra, matter-of-factly.

“They totally are,” agrees Aelin. “But I love him.”

“Yeah… I love my bastard too.”

The blonde leans her head on her friend’s shoulder and sighs again.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“Well,” Lys observes. “Even though my drunk state should be taken into consideration in order to make your decision based on my very wise advice... I think your best bet would be to talk to him.”

“Ugh. You’re probably right. However, he’s just constantly surrounded by people, how am I gonna get him to talk to me? That’s how this whole mess started in the first place.”

Both girls get a pensive look on their face, but Lysandra’s face quickly turns into a scheming one.

“How about you head upstairs to Aedion’s room and I go talk to Rowan and tell him you have an emergency and send him your way? If he doesn’t pay attention in an emergency you should just cut him off and if he does you can finally talk to him.”

“Hmm, I don’t know Lys, what if he gets worried?”

The other girl snorts.

“Then he’ll rush upstairs and check on you in ten seconds, girl. He won’t die.”

Aelin sighs.

“Okay. I’m going. Thanks, babe.”

“You got it boo, this is what girlfriends are here for.”

Aelin smiles softly as she takes the stairs towards her cousin’s room and then sits down on the bed, wringing her hands in anticipation.

Not even a minute later she hears heavy steps nearing her and the door opens, showing Rowan on the other side of it, with a frown on his face.

Not too worried then, just annoyed.

“Aelin, what the heck? What’s so urgent that you had Lysandra come fetch me but couldn’t do it yourself?”

Aelin sees red.

“Couldn’t do it-” she seethes. “Rowan freaking Whitethorn, are you kidding me? All I’ve been trying to do the whole afternoon is talk to you myself but it seems like you just can’t be bothered by me.”

Rowan rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.

“Jeez, Aelin take a chill pill. I’m just cruising.”

Rage takes over her, hands trembling as she fists them.

“Chill pill? Cruising? Who do you think I am Rowan? We’re not “mates” or “buddies”. You’re my fucking boyfriend and yeah, when all I’ve done this week is study and work and then I actually decide to spend my barely-there free time with my boyfriend I do expect him to say more than monosyllabic sentences or slang words to me when I try to talk to him about something that’s bothering me if I think it’s affecting our relationship.”

“I think you’re being dramatic” states Rowan, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? How’s this for dramatic?” she says, picking her phone and chucking it at him. It hits the wall next to his head, leaving him with a bewildered look on his face, mouth wide open. “You know what? I think it’s best if you just stay here for the night. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your “cruising”. That way, it gives me time to take a “chill pill” and decide what to do with a wannabe man who can’t take the time to appreciate the effort that’s being put into this relationship.”

Aelin gets up and pushes a stuttering Rowan out the door, closing it behind him.

Tears are starting to fall down her face so she washes her face in the sink and breathes a few times before flicking her hair over her shoulders and heading out, done for the day and wanting to sleep it off in her very big and comfy bed.

As she walks down the stairs, Aelin sees Rowan sitting on the couch, a white-haired girl almost perched on his lap, giving him a tight and long hug before kissing him on the cheek.

All the rage she had is knocked out of her by that sight and her eyes start to fill again so she hurries off and drives herself home, thinking about how much it hurts to see him move on so quickly.

***

The morning after

The sun has absolutely no business being this bright.

At least that’s Aelin’s first thought upon waking up, her eyes puffy and her jawline hurting — a clear indicator that she slept while clenching her teeth, which in turn is a clear indicator that her foul mood followed her all the way to bed and beyond consciousness.

Damn him.

Damn him to hell and back.

As she sits up in bed, glaring at her open curtains with the burning rage of a thousand suns, Aelin is tempted to just… ignore everything and go back to sleep. With so much work piling up on her desk, with so much revising to do for her final exams, with the back of her knees hurting for all the dance practice she’s been doing these last few months for her show at the end of the month… Gods above and beyond, she just wants peace from everything.

Aelin stares at her ballet shoes, dirty and ragged, lying on top of a mountain of newly purchased books that she still needs to find space for. Oh, hell. Her dance teacher is surely ready to whack her in the head with her cane after Aelin has skipped last night’s practice to go to her boyfriend’s football game.

And where did that get her?

A whole lot of hurt and jealousy and an aching throat from all the yelling.

Aelin sighs, breathing in deep, and then reaches for her phone to check the time — when she realizes her phone is not on her nightstand. Nor anywhere to be seen.

Aelin stands in the middle of her apartment as memories come back to her in hot, feverish flashes—

Shit.

Oh, no, no, no, no—

Her screaming. Rowan yelling. His football uniform still on as she…

...threw her phone at him—

Oh, Gods save her.

Why did she do that?

What kind of rage possessed her—?

Well.

And what kind of demon possessed him to yell at her, too?

Aelin wants to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. Embarrassment clings to her like sweat, mixing with her rage. That was so immature of her. She’s in college, for heaven’s sake—

Aelin settles her thoughts with some bitter coffee and even more bitter chocolate, skipping breakfast altogether and sitting on her computer in her fluffy pink pajamas. As she tries to get some work done, Aelin realizes that it’s well past ten o’clock now, and… despite the anger she still feels, she admits that she had expected Rowan to be at her door by now.

He’s probably still pissed-off drunk.

She wonders if he really did give up on her after her fight.

Embarrassment and anger slowly fade, giving in to just pure sadness, a canvas painted blue inside her chest. Could he have… gone home with that girl from the afterparty? The one clinging to him like—

No, despite their fight, Aelin doubts that Rowan would do that to her. He wouldn’t go that far.

But then again, that was the ugliest fight they’ve ever had in their two years of dating.

And they tend to bicker constantly.

Somehow, she finds herself opening up her browser and ignoring her schoolwork.

And she writes something so specific in the search bar that, despite everything, it makes her chuckle inwardly at her own foolishness:

What to do when you almost broke up with your boyfriend last night after throwing your phone at him.

But the Internet has no answer, no advice, for her.

Except a song in the first result.

What the—

She finds herself clicking on a video and a cheerful song begins playing. Taylor Swift, it reads, Stay Stay Stay.

Unfamiliar with Taylor’s earlier works, Aelin allows herself to just bask in the joy of the brand new first few notes, appreciating the lilting ukulele chords as she leans back in her desk chair, spinning around and around, closing her eyes—

I’m pretty sure we almost broke up last night.

Her eyes fly open abruptly at that first lyric.

I threw my phone across the room at you.

Aelin stares at her computer accusingly. Reaching over, she searches the lyrics online as the song continues to play and…

“Taylor?” She whispers, a single breath falling from her mouth as she widens her eyes. “How did you know?”

Aelin can’t fathom how similar those lyrics are to her own situation. What kind of weird coincidence—

Knock knock.

Aelin stops the song, staring past her bedroom door to the hall beyond, her heartbeat picking up speed. She hopes, desperately, that it’s him—

“Rowan?”

She does not think. She runs over, not even checking the peephole of her door (foolish, really), and yanks it open—

To see a very wide-eyed first year student standing there, a package in his hand, staring at her as if she is the incarnation of some dangerous Goddess.

“Hum…” he begins, and Aelin realizes she’s still in her fluffy pajamas, though she cannot dare to care, not even if her hair’s a rats’ nest and she might very well still look puffy from a long night of crying.

“Who are you?” She truly doesn’t mean to sound so rough or look as if she (desperately) expected someone else to be at her door but she cannot help it.

“Your… package,” he says hesitantly, holding it out to her.

Ah. So not a student. A delivery kid.

“Oh,” Aelin mutters, slowly taking the package addressed to her. She doesn’t remember ordering anything, but then again, who knows, these days? Her head’s been all over the place with everything that she has to do weighing on her shoulders. “Sorry, yeah. Thanks.”

She watches the boy go and she’s about to close the door when a large figure steps into view in her apartment hallway.

Aelin stands there, struggling to keep hold of the box, struggling to keep hold of herself even more. Because—

Her boyfriend is here, looking drop-dead gorgeous, his dark green shirt hanging loose, two or three buttons undone on his collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and… a rutting football helmet on his head.

Aelin’s first instinct isn’t to be angry.

Because the song keeps playing in her head, a catchy rhythm she cannot get rid of.

And as if things can’t get even more bizarre, Rowan’s first words to her are:

“Fireheart, let’s talk.”

That’s when you came in wearing a football helmet and said, okay, let’s talk.

Those lyrics. Those brilliant, beautiful, funny lyrics—

There’s no way.

No way.

Aelin opens and closes her mouth a hundred times. Rowan looks ready to bolt — or pick her up and crush her to him. Either.

Out of all the things she wants to say, what comes out of her is:

“Are you, by chance, following the instructions of a Taylor Swift song?”

And Rowan, to her eternal surprise, smiles. Bright and beautiful and so him, as if their fight had never happened, as if she had never gotten mad at him, as if he’d never hurt her.

“I thought maybe she could give me some pointers.”

Aelin stares at him up and down, box in hand.

“Are you serious?” She gestures wildly at his helmet.

Rowan actually holds up his hands, smile faltering. “Fireheart, it’s just in case you throw something else at me. And the delivery… well, I wanted to deliver that to you myself, but I wanted to check if it was safe first.”

She seethes at his amusement, no matter how tentative it is. “I didn’t throw my phone at you! I threw it across the room, because I was angry! I was livid at you!”

His smile comes back, somehow hesitant. “Just like in the song.”

“That’s just a weird coincidence!” Aelin shakes her head, not knowing if she wants to yell or laugh or fall into his arms. She cannot — she will not give in. Whether he meant to or not, he hurt her.

“I didn’t even know you listened to Taylor.”

“You didn’t?” She can imagine him raising his eyebrows through the helmet. “Maybe it’s because we’re always listening to your music, Fireheart. Not that I mind. I love your playlists.” He shrugs. “Red is my favourite album. It’s also her best album.”

“Reputation is her best album, but whatever you say.”

He smiles again, and instead of saying anything else, he gestures with his chin to her box. “Open it.” And then, like an afterthought, he takes her phone out of his pocket and places it in the pocket of her pajama shorts. “It’s not broken, thankfully.”

Aelin eyes him for a second too long, and then pivots on her heels and brings the box to the kitchen, leaving her door open as a silent invitation, as if to say, Either come in or don’t. Whatever.

She opens the box on her kitchen table, and a floral scent fills the small space. Flowers — Kingsflame, her favourites, a beautiful bouquet that leaves her staring, open-mouthed. It must have cost him a fortune. Kingsflame, after all, are so rare, and so, so precious.

Underneath the bouquet… chocolate. Her favourite, also. Lots and lots of chocolate.

Her heart somewhat softens.

Until she hears his steps coming into the kitchen.

Rowan slowly removes his stupid helmet, laying it on the counter, staring at her.

“I don’t like how we left things between us last night,” he begins, facing her. “We’ve never gone to sleep angry at each other before, and I don’t want that to happen again.”

Aelin crosses her arms, swallowing hard. “Don’t make me feel worthless next time, then, Rowan.” She breathes in, all the words that she struggled to say last night coming back to her. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I got angry. I’m sorry I threw my phone, I… that’s not right, and that’s not me. I just… I felt like you didn’t care whether I was there to support you or not. I wanted you to have your win with your teammates, don’t get me wrong. I wanted you to have your moment. But at the afterparty, when you barely looked at me… it made me feel so ignored and so… worthless to you.” She turns away from him, facing the window, both her hands on the kitchen counter so she has a steady grip on something. “I just felt unappreciated. I skipped dance practice. I let my work pile up. I have to pull an all nighter tonight so I can finish that stupid essay. I would do it again just to watch you play, because I love you and I want to be there for you, no matter the cost, but when you behaved as if I wasn’t even there…” She trails off.

“Fireheart.”

And his voice is so full of sadness that Aelin almost — almost — turns and kisses every inch of his face, but she cannot ignore how he made her feel last night. It was truly the first moment in their relationship where she felt as if she was climbing a mountain just to watch him slide down with a grin on his face, right past her, instead of waiting for her at the top.

He touches her shoulder gently, and when Aelin refuses to turn, he murmurs:

“I’m an oblivious prick, Aelin.”

She lets out a small breath that sounds like a humourless laugh.

“Will you look at me, sweetheart? Will you do that for me?”

Hesitantly, wondering if she’s strong enough to bear what comes next, Aelin slowly turns.

He touches two fingers underneath her chin, watching her carefully, his eyes full of emotion.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” He caresses her cheek, so gently. “I truly am, Aelin. Even if it wasn’t intentional, I vowed, when I kissed you for the first time, that I would never be the one to hurt you, and I broke that vow. I was high on the adrenaline of winning, loving the attention of everybody around me, but you are the only person that matters to me, Aelin. When…” he shakes his head, smiling slightly, his eyes suddenly faraway, chasing a memory. “When I was walking into that field, Fireheart, the first thing I did was look at those bleachers, wishing you were there. But I understood why work kept you away. I thought to myself, Gods, I’m proud of her. I thought, She works so fucking hard everyday, she needs a break. Not to come to a game, but… a real break. From work, life. But then you were there.” His fingers skim the line of her jaw, his forest eyes following the shape of her face. “You were there, front-row, cheeks red from the cold, smiling and waving and shouting at the top of your lungs. And you’re right, Fireheart, I didn’t appreciate it enough. I didn’t appreciate you. And that will never happen again.”

He pauses, placing a loose strand of her knotted hair behind her ear, breathing softly. He rests his forehead against hers, and Aelin lets him, even allows her hands to drift up to his arms, keeping him close. Gods, she missed him. This apartment is more theirs than hers at this point, and going to sleep without him…

… which reminds her of something.

Aelin pulls away, glaring at him. “What about that girl?”

“What girl?”

Aelin frowns. “When you crashed on Aedion’s couch. There was a girl there, all over you.”

Rowan watches her with mild confusion, and her glare intensifies.

“Fireheart…”

“Why the hell are you smiling, Rowan Whitethorn?”

The prick. The bastard.

“Fireheart… her name is Sellene.”

“Oh, so she has a pretty name to go with her pretty face?” Aelin pushes past him. “Good to know. Did she even know that you have a girlfriend, Rowan? Gods, she probably didn’t, did she? So she’s probably going to feel like shit after realizing that she’s been all over you while not knowing that you have me, and it’s not even her fault so I can’t even be angry at her and—”

“Aelin, Gods above, Fireheart, Sellene is my cousin.”

Aelin stops in the middle of the kitchen.

Her mind goes deadly silent.

“Say that again.”

“Sellene,” he emphasizes, drawing near her, his smirk widening, “is my cousin.” His face scrunches up in plain disgust. “And what you call all over me, was a hug and a kiss on the cheek, for we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

Aelin looks up at him, her mouth falling open. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

Aelin blinks the fuzziness out of her mind. Long white hair. Forest green eyes. Previous memories come back, of Rowan telling her stories of his childhood, playing with his cousins, and—

“Sellene.”

“Yes, Fireheart,” he smiles slightly. “That was Sellene.”

Aelin bites her tongue. “So, it appears that I have graciously fucked up.”

“Ah, well,” Rowan gestures, without taking his amused, twinkling eyes off her, “you were pretty angry to see reason. I understand.”

“You still came back, even after that. With flowers and chocolate,” Aelin mutters, shaking her head at herself. “And you’re staying.”

“I’m staying,” Rowan says, taking a step closer to her. “I’m staying, Aelin.” He smiles down at her, kissing her forehead. “Like in the song.”

Aelin echoes quietly, “Like in the song.”

I think it’s best if we both stay.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart.” He wraps his arms around her, so gently. “I promise never to take your actions, much less your sacrifices, lightly. I’ll never make you feel like you did last night.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, too.” Aelin rests her forehead against his chest, breathing in his scent. “I promise I’ll talk to you first before getting mad.”

She looks up, and Rowan is smiling again. And Aelin realizes, perhaps for the hundredth time since that very first kiss, that she wants him now, tomorrow, and for every day after that, no matter how long the Gods might grant her. She wants him loving, raging, sad, curious, mad and happy. Every facet of him.

He nears her mouth, but doesn’t kiss her yet, their eyes lingering. “I am convinced,” Aelin murmurs softly, “that Taylor Swift wrote a song about our relationship.”

“Without even knowing us,” Rowan agrees.

“She’s an oracle,” Aelin concludes. “A songwriting goddess and probably a seer.”

Rowan laughs breathlessly, taking her chin. “She does state some truths, though. I do like hanging out with you all the time, Aelin Fireheart. And you’ve given me absolutely no choice but to stay.”

Aelin smiles, brushing her nose against his, her tiptoes on the cold kitchen tile. “I think we’ve found our song, then.”

“Well,” Rowan says, his voice growing quieter by the second as he tilts his head to kiss her cheek, letting Aelin’s arms wrap around his shoulders, “Taylor did get one thing wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I definitely do not think it’s funny when you’re mad.” He takes her waist, pulling her to him, grinning down at her. “You’re absolutely terrifying.”

Aelin lets out a laugh right before he kisses her. It’s a long and lingering kiss, his hands splaying on her back, his breathing, his very own heartbeat, syncing with her own, his lips dragging from her mouth to her cheek, her jawline, up, and up, to her eyelids, down to her nose, trailing a path right back down to her mouth.

She remembers then, like lightning striking inside her.

“I…” she hesitates, and then Rowan pulls back to look at her, a question in his eyes. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“I’ve had it for a while.”

“Aelin.” He narrows his eyes. “Why do you look so suspicious?”

“You’re doing that thing — that thing with your eyes. You look like a cartoon spy.”

She snorts a laugh. “Get off me, you big goof. Let me give you my gift before I regret it.”

Rowan watches as she slips from his arms with the grace and skill of a dancer, his eyes trailing over her pajamas as she opens a drawer in her kitchen. Adorable, he thinks. Terrifying.

He loves her.

Gods, how he loves her.

Aelin takes a little box out of her drawer and hands it to him. Inside lies a key. He’s so familiar with the shape that he immediately realizes what it’s for.

“You don’t have to move in if you don’t want to,” she murmurs, her hands, covered with her too-big sleeves, suddenly fumbling. “It’s just… you already sleep here most nights and there’s a lot of your stuff here, so I figured…”

“I love you, Aelin.”

That whisks any thoughts right out of her mind.

No matter how many times he says it, Aelin is still taken aback by those short, lovely words.

“Yeah?” She smiles.

“Yeah,” Rowan says, closing the box and holding it to his chest as he comes close again. “Yes, Fireheart. Of course I’ll move in.”

She almost brings him to the ground — that’s how hard she flings herself at him. Rowan catches her easily, his arms wrapping around her, plastering kisses all over her face.

“You’ll stay, then,” Aelin whispers to him. Not because she needs the reassurance but… hearing those words might be the most wonderful song in the world, a song she will never get tired of, no matter how many times she hears it:

“I’ll stay, Fireheart. I’ll stay.”

***

tags:

@howtotameyourillyrian

@highqueenofelfhame

@imprecisemagic

@ladyvanserra

@acotarandhisbrothers

@court-0f-dreamers

@realmorrigan

@queen-archeron

@snelbz

@tacmc

@urbisie

@once-upon-love

@wingsofanillyrian

@bryaxisthefaceofnightmares

@elide-lochan-salvaterre

@librarian-of-orynth

@empress-ofbloodshed

@rhysand-highlord

@sahibookworm

@ourbooksuniverse

@tntwme

@kickassunicorn

@ame233

@throne-of-wingspans

@acourtof-painandfeels

@dreamingofalba

@wolffrising

@catherine-herondale-roseland

@illyrianbeauty

@dreamerforever-5

@to-the-stars-who-wish

@tangledraysofsunshine

@hizqueen4life

@humanexile

@meltalgel

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@darklesmylove

@shyvioletcat

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

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