#rowaelinmonth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

live-the-fangirl-life · 8 months

Text

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

**************

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #tog #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelinscourt

75 notes · View notes

highqueenofelfhame · 8 months

Text

a Hits Different song fic (one shot) @rowaelinscourt

due to unforeseen circumstances last week (like really terrible ones pls don’t be mad at me i have never had that much anxiety in my life) i didn’t get to finish this but here’s a snippet and eventually i’ll get around to finishing it and posting it 💚

“The wedding is off.” Aelin announced, lacing her fingers atop the table and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. It was the first time she had said it out loud.

On the Uber ride to the bar she had considered calling to cancel the venue, but a violent wave of nausea kept her from following through. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t hit any of the buttons and her screen was little more than a single, blurry, blob of light in her palm. They wouldn’t be getting the deposit back, anyway. Her friends could help her with the gritty parts she couldn’t stomach tomorrow.

“What?” Everyone blurted in unison, each of their expressions mirroring the horror she felt inside. It didn’t make sense to Aelin, either. There was no timeline or alternate reality where she didn’t end up with Rowan. Yet here she was.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she slurred, words tangling together as she clambered from the booth. It took all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other and make it to the bar without tripping over her own two feet.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth 2023 #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin month #love is a lie #song fic #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #writing #snippet #love is a lie snippet #love is a lie book cover kind of #not really #i threw this together very quickly

36 notes · View notes

manonblaqkbeak · 7 months

Text

Scaling in the Moonlight

Hello everyone!!! Long time no see!!! It's been eleven months!!!!! since I last wrote anything. I hated the fact that I missed last years rowaelin month and was determined to write something for this years rowaelin month (and a special thank you to @goddess-aelin for her lovely note saying she missed my work <3)

And thanks to the lovely people that run rowaelin month!!! you are all amazing!!! @rowaelinscourt

Apologies in advance if my writing and grammar and characterisation is a little rusty, like I said, it's been eleven months since I last wrote anything and I'm slowly getting through my ToG re-read (which has really opened my eyes to how traumatised Aelin is as a person/character).

Words: 800+. CW: none, I don't think.

Day 18- Aelin and Rowan's hawk form.

It was two AM and Aelin was out, wondering the dark city streets of Orynth, looking for the right building.

Instead of using the castle's obstacle course like most sane people would, Aelin decided that she needed to do this the way she was trained too—by scaling the side of buildings, using every muscle in her body to pull herself up to reach the top of the building, to run across the rooftops to get closer to her target.

She needed the reminder that she could—and that she hadn't lost her edge.

Although, she was sure she had lost it. She did still train, from magic to weapons to hand-to-hand combat, she did whichever she was in the mood for with what free time she had, but as Queen and mother to five children, she had no need to scale buildings and jump from rooftop to rooftop.

So she had decided, as she ate her dinner with her family, she was going to relive her past life; if only for a couple of hours.

Aelin walked through one more street before she found a good starting point—a shoe store that she did frequent with Rowan and their children. It was two storeys tall and she knew that no one occupied the apartment above the shop so no one would see her.

Hopefully no one would hear her either.

Stretching before climbing, Aelin told herself that it would be fine. She had given birth to five children, all without pain relieving herbs, she could—would—scale this building with ease.

Finding her footing was easy enough, so Aelin started her trek—and thankfully didn't fall off, although she did slid time a few times and had to grit her teeth to stop her cursing from echoing around town.

The burning in her muscles took her back to how she used to be, how she used to be able to demand any contract and fat coin purse she desired.

She didn't miss that life, not at all, but it was part of who she was and she was not ashamed of it.

Taking one last gulping breath, Aelin hoisted herself over the roofs ledge and let the accomplishment rush through her.

So determined she was in proving herself that she could still do this, she hadn't been aware that she had a follower.

A follower that now clicked his beak at her.

Aelin's head snapped upwards, taking in her mate's large hawk-form as he perched on the chimney.

“You were asleep when I left,” was all Aelin could think of to say.

Rowan clicked his beak again, as if to say And now I'm awake.

“Clearly,” Aelin said, “how'd I go from your end?”

She waited for him to shift back but he didn't. He wasn't mad at her, she knew that much, but she didn't want anyone to see her talking to her mate like this—it felt too intimate to be like this in public, but after two decades together, Aelin could converse with Rowan in his hawk form as easily as she could talk to him in his Fae form.

Rowan didn't say anything but flew to the building next to her. He clicked his beak. You can climb well enough, let's see how you can jump.

Aelin moved to the ledge, looking down to the ground, if she didn't make it, she wouldn't die, but she'd probably be bruised all over.

She looked at Rowan, who was waiting patiently. “Will you nurse me back to health if I fall?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at her husband, who rolled his eyes.

“That better be a yes,” she said and moved back to take a running jump.

Gods, if she fell, she'd never get over the embarrassment.

Aelin ran and jumped—and just made it. She hit her chin hard enough that when she made it over the ledge of the building, she laid down and stared at the open night sky.

A flash of light brighter than the moon came and went, and then there was Rowan, taking her in.

“Fireheart,” he said, his voice deep and concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Aelin said, her chin sore but she would live. She eyed her mate up and down, however, and said, “But I would still appreciate being nursed back to health—especially if you take your shirt off.”

Rowan rolled his eyes again, but obliged her, his shirt coming off in one easy movement that had her contemplate making a sixth baby.

“Where does it hurt, milady?” her king-consort asked, his rough fingers moving across her collarbone.

“Here,” she said, pointing to her chin, and soon she was better, especially as she chased Rowan around in his hawk form, easily jumping from roof to roof as the hours went by.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #my work #rowaelin month 2023

52 notes · View notes

morganofthewildfire · 2 years

Text

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

But Who Could Stay?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Rowaelin Month Day 1: Song Fic

based on The Archer by Taylor Swift

~ 27k words

an: I am immensely proud of this, and I have put so much work into this one, I really hope you all like it; it was born out of my obsession with the archer but has turned into something of its own; I'm a bit nervous sharing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it

CW: cursing, angst, depictions of an eating disorder, mentions of sexual assault, very brief depiction of attempted sexual assault, NSFW

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Who could ever leave me darling?

But who could stay?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Aelin woke up that morning to the sound of classical piano blaring in her ears. It was the opening chords of the Stygian Suite, which meant she was just on time as she sat up, lifting up her eye mask and turning to switch off the alarm.

With a graceful yawn, she pulled back her silk sheets, standing out of bed to stretch as the first reaches of sunlight seeped in through the light blue curtains.

5:30 am, bright and early. It was the time she woke up every day, just to get a jump start before her schedule caught up with her.

Efficiently, she made her bed, tucking the fluffy white comforter nicely underneath her pillows before heading into the bathroom. In there, her face highlighted by the lights around the large mirror, she combed and clipped her hair up, with a towel headband to keep any stray pieces back. Turning on the faucet to let the water warm up, Aelin went and grabbed her silk robe, sliding it on over her silk pajamas, the luxurious fabric caressing her skin.

Then she went back to the sink, splashing her face with water and using her expensive face wash to start the day fresh. After the face wash, she applied her bottle of toner to her skin carefully, before layering it on with a few of her favorite serums, finishing the routine off with her moisturizer and of course, sunscreen, to keep her skin youthful and glowing.

Then she took off the headband, but left the clip in, traveling out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, turning on her fancy coffee machine. After hitting a few buttons, her coffee was brewing, espresso and steamed milk spilling out of it to make a delicious latte.

While that was brewing, Aelin padded over to the floor to ceiling windows, pulling open the curtains to reveal the city skyline below, already bustling at the early hour. Rifthold was a huge city, there was always something going on. She relished in the chaos of it all, it kept the chaos in her own mind at bay.

It was only when she was sitting down on her plush couch with her coffee and her small bowl of yogurt that she finally looked at her phone.

6 am. She’d made good time.

If she ate her breakfast and drank her coffee in the next fifteen minutes, then she’d have another fifteen to get changed before starting her morning workout. Not to be confused with her evening workout of course. Morning was cardio, while evening was all toning.

None of her friends were awake at this hour, so there weren’t any text notifications, but the fashion world was 24/7, so she had multiple emails in her inbox, essentially detailing her itinerary for the next month.

After transferring all of her shoots and runways, as well as her meetings, into her calendar, Aelin uncurled herself from the couch, abandoning her half eaten yogurt on the counter before going into her bedroom to change.

Within half an hour, she was sweating as she nearly sprinted on the treadmill. Her legs and her lungs were burning as she ran, crossing the mile mark at a record speed for her. It was one of her favorite parts of the day, to let loose all of her stress through pure sweat.

But as she was crossing the second mile, her phone rang and she was forced to slow her pace down to a gentle jog as she answered it and put it on speaker, hearing Lysandra’s tired voice yawn through the line.

“Good morning, bitch,” her best friend said affectionately, and Aelin chuckled, still breathing heavily as she exercised.

“Good morning,” she replied, “you’re up early.”

“And what?” Lysandra said, “you’ve been up for an hour already, haven’t you.” Aelin laughed again, wiping at some stray sweat.

“An hour and a half,” she admitted, hearing her friend snort through the phone.

“You’re crazy, girl,” Lys said, and Aelin could picture her shaking her head, curled up in her fluffy robe on her own couch. “Anyway, I was just calling to let you know we’re meeting at The Stag at eight tonight for drinks. Aedion is insisting you actually come this time.”

“I couldn’t come last time because of a shoot,” Aelin sighed, “he knows that. Tell him to get out of my business.”

“He knows,” the brunette girl complained. “But he’s going to be mad if you don’t make it tonight.”

Aelin thought through her schedule in her head, sighing through her nose as she hit the three mile mark on her treadmill.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she conceded, and Lysandra seemed satisfied with that answer as she hung up the call. Aelin finally slowed the treadmill down to a stop, ending at three miles. A little less than usual but she’d just compensate with her workout later.

She wasn’t lying when she said she was busy, but there was one other reason she was hesitant to go to their group gatherings. A certain man named Rowan Whitethorn.

He was best friends with Lorcan, who was dating Elide, who was good friends with her and Lysandra, so they all got grouped together whenever they went out. He was sure to be invited to drinks tonight.

It wasn’t like she never saw him outside of her friends, in fact he worked at her modeling agency as a headshot photographer. He’d been hired well after her start in the industry, so she’d never taken pictures with him, but his official duties were to take the pictures new girls would submit with their applications for shoots.

He was… fine. When he wasn’t being a raging pain in her ass. Stuck up, arrogant, holier than thou - Rowan Whitethorn was convinced that he was better than her, and while she knew her self worth was so diminished she would likely agree if it were anyone else, she just couldn’t with him.

And she just really wasn’t feeling up to an interaction with him today. But - she’d promised her cousin she’d try. So try she would.

——-

By the time Aelin sauntered through the doors of The Stag that evening, her high heels clicking on the dark oak floor, she was half an hour late. She hadn’t intended on being so late, but her shoot went over earlier that afternoon, and then she was late for her meeting with her agent Maeve, only to almost miss her hair and makeup consultation for her next shoot, forcing her to cut her workout short.

Aedion was lucky she didn’t skip entirely in favor of her abs. It took work to keep them this toned. Not that he’d understand, as a firefighter his entire job was essentially a workout.

Aelin had to put effort in.

“Aelin,” Aedion greeted a bit sarcastically, standing up from the table for an exaggerated hug. “I haven’t seen you in decades, look how you’ve grown.”

“Fuck off,” Aelin laughed as she hugged him back. “You know for a fact we saw each other last week.”

“Hm,” her cousin said, hugging her tightly. “It’s been a long week.”

She and her cousin had always been close, but especially so after her parents passed when she was fifteen. Aedion had already been eighteen and had fought tooth and nail for custody instead of sending her off to social services, so she’d lived with him for three years, just the two of them.

He’d supported her when she’d expressed interest in modeling, and was still her biggest supporter now, five years later, when her success was only continuing to rise.

“Here,” Lysandra interrupted, patting the seat next to her. “Come tell me everything you’ve been doing lately. I want the drama.”

Aelin laughed as she sat on the barstool at the high top table, joining the rest of the group. The whole crew was there: Lorcan and Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, Fenrys and Connall, even Vaughan had showed up, and - Rowan. They made eye contact, blue meeting green, and her smile dropped, though she attempted to nod politely. But when he just rolled his eyes, she stopped pretending to be nice.

“Do you want something to eat?” Elide asked, the petite brunette looking hot in a skin tight black dress, made modest only by the high cut of it. “We ordered some tater tots already, but we can get you something when the waiter comes back.”

Aelin waved her hand in dismissal, resting her purse on the hook under the table. “I ate earlier, I’m okay.” A wave of nerves fluttered through her, picturing the half eaten yogurt she’d abandoned that morning, but no one seemed to clock the lie, so she forced herself to relax. “I will get something to drink though.”

She waved down a waiter, reaching back into her purse to pull out her credit card. It was a platinum card, and it looked as fancy as it sounded. As it was.

“Another round,” she gestured to the table, smiling prettily at the waiter and winking. “On me. I’ll take a cosmopolitan please, with sugar free juice. I’m on a diet.”

The waiter didn’t say anything, just heading away to go get the next round of drinks, and she turned back to her group, satisfied.

“You’re trouble, Galathynius,” Fenrys said, shaking his head, and she just shrugged, laughing. The group quickly dissolved back into conversation, having to nearly shout over the hectic chaos of the bar. It was a nice place, but it was loud.

But Aelin felt eyes on her, and she turned to look at Rowan, smiling coldly.

“Enjoy your drink,” she said, refusing to be the one to look away. But he didn’t look away either, not backing down, and eventually she had to turn away. She hated him, but those green eyes threatened to strip her down to nothing and learn all of her secrets.

And she couldn’t risk that.

------

Several of his friends were riotously drunk when they finally left the bar, notably Fenrys and Aedion, but Rowan himself wasn’t even tipsy as he gathered his phone and his keys, slipping out the front door as everyone else was shuffled into various cars.

Aelin was the only one left, looking elegant in her loose pants and tight shirt, her legs going on for miles with those high heels of hers. Rowan hated her, had for a few years now, but he couldn’t deny how attractive she was. She was a model for gods sakes.

He’d be kidding himself if he tried to pretend she wasn’t beautiful.

But her personality on the other hand… completely irritating. Always laughing, flashing her money around, like she didn’t give a damn about anyone else.

Rowan already had his struggles being one of the least paid in the friend group, besides Aedion being a public employee, but Lysandra was a high end fashion designer, so it balanced out. He didn’t need the constant insult from Aelin, who essentially worked at the same place as him, but was infinitely richer.

She knew it. And she never failed to remind him.

He kept his face cold as she looked over at him, sliding her purse over her shoulder. She was surprisingly sober as well; he’d noticed she’d only sipped on her one drink the whole time.

“Loosen up a bit, Rowan,” she crooned, smiling sardonically. “You could use it.” And then she was sauntering away down the sidewalk, leaving him alone.

Rowan stared after her for a minute, letting her walk away, before turning and heading in the exact opposite direction. Yep, because he lived on the opposite side of the city. She was in a glamorous high rise uptown, and he was in a rundown five story apartment complex close to the center of downtown.

He began the long walk back home, kicking a rock idly onto the street, which was quickly run over by a passing car.

The city was loud. Always busy, always moving. He didn’t think he’d like it when he first moved here with Lorcan after high school, but now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere different.

Something caught his gaze and he paused, catching on a puddle that was reflecting streaky lights from a half lit bar sign a few yards away. He pulled out his phone, wishing he had his full camera with him as he snapped a picture, turning to get just the right angle.

He’d discovered he liked photography in high school, after taking a class as an elective credit and realizing he’d accidentally discovered his passion in life. He didn’t think that passion would lead him to taking pictures of wannabe models for their applications to have their pictures taken by “real” photographers, but - he had bills to pay.

It was fine for now, but he was hoping to get somewhere a little further than that.

Maybe in the next couple of years he’d finally be able to.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket as he continued to walk, only taking it and his keys back out when he reached his door. It creaked as he opened it and he sighed as he flicked the light on.

It was an older complex, and it was dated, but he was meticulous at cleaning and it was practically spotless. And nothing looked amiss, so he flicked the light back off and kept walking into his bedroom, nearly slamming the door behind him.

He’d thought the nice would be fun, and relaxed, where he’d get to hang out with his friends and just have a good time. But Aelin Galathynius never let it be that simple.

-----

Rowan woke up the next morning to an incessant beeping. Rolling over and burying his face into his pillow, he flung an arm out to turn it off. Silence settled over the room again, and he was tempted to fall back asleep, but he forced his eyes open instead.

It was still dark out, made only more so by the blackout curtains he kept in his bedroom. But his day was already starting.

He dragged himself out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen and hitting brew on his coffee pot. While that was going, he went back into the bathroom, splashing his face with water to wake himself up a bit more, sighing as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked exhausted.

Dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, a bit of stubble that he didn’t manage to shave the day before… A wreck, that’s what he was.

More beeping signaled the coffee being ready, and Rowan traversed his way back out to the kitchen, not even bothering to shrug on a t- shirt. There was no one here, it didn’t matter if he was only half dressed. He downed a mug of black coffee before pouring another one after it, choosing to sip on this one instead as he got his toast ready.

Once that was done, he slapped a slice of butter on it, taking the plate and his coffee to the couch, where he slumped down and turned on the TV to the local news.

Yes, he watched the local news. No, he was not sixty.

It was mostly mindless as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his emails and his schedule for the day. He had only two photo shoots on his agenda, but Maeve wanted to meet with him, so his day was instantly longer.

It probably wasn’t anything important, but she was sure to drag it out just to make him uncomfortable. She was like that, he’d quickly discovered upon getting hired. As the boss of the whole modeling agency, she relished in the power she had over all of them.

And she was even worse if anyone was late.

So Rowan drained the rest of his coffee, and went to get moving with the rest of his day.

------

The modeling agency was in a high rise office building, not too far from where he knew Aelin’s apartment was. An easy walk for her, a half hour metro ride for him.

But it was so ingrained in him now he barely felt the distance, and soon enough he was walking into his “office”, which was really a desktop in the corner of the room where all of the other low level employees and interns were, in various clumps.

He’d bought noise canceling headphones just to be able to work there, editing his photos. The incessant chatting and loud music from the other employees drove him crazy, unlike the deafening noise of the city.

He slid down into his chair, shoving those headphones in as he wiggled the mouse to turn on the screen, before inputting his SD card into the monitor and pulling up the pictures he’d taken the day before.

In each portfolio, he’d learned a model needs a simple headshot, a bodyshot, a swimsuit shot, either an editorial or commercial shot depending on their specialization, a smiling shot, and then a strong closing shot. So six photographs in the end, but dozens more he had to photograph and edit before finalizing.

He pulled up the first folder, and got started.

An hour later, he closed out of his editing site, taking out his headphones and shutting off his computer. He tucked his chair back under the desk and grabbed his camera bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he headed to the back room, where the shoot was set up.

But on his way, he caught sight of Aelin, sitting in Maeve’s office like she owned it, waiting for the other woman herself to appear. The blonde was in high heels, of course, but with a dress on this time, one that highlighted her curves but weren’t glued to them. Her hair was swept up in a voluminous half up half down, revealing the sweep of her neck.

She looked good, like always, and he hated himself for the rush of heat that spiked through him. Though it cooled when she spotted him through the glass walls, giving him a certain gesture in return.

Rowan just frowned and dismissed her, continuing on his way. He had more important things to do than bother with her.

When he got to the studio in the back, the model was already there, her blonde hair pulled sleekly back into a bun with natural makeup on per the requirements of the headshot. Which is what they’d start with.

Remelle was her name, if he remembered his schedule correctly.

She was new, he supposed, and it made sense because he probably would’ve remembered seeing her before. It was a model agency, of course they’d all be stunning, but she was stunning in a particular way - gorgeous, but almost like she was missing something.

“Are you my photographer?” She asked, smiling at him in a way that had his guard going up.

“Yes,” Rowan answered, frowning slightly and ignoring her look as he went to set up the camera. He was used to being on the receiving end of some flirting here, he wasn’t modest he knew he was at least somewhat good looking. When he wasn’t working, he was at the gym, trying to get rid of everything in his head through mindless exercise.

But this girl was looking at him like he was a piece of meat, making him decidedly uncomfortable, so he tried not to accidentally pay her any mind, focusing entirely on being professional.

Even if Remelle was beautiful, he’d be stupid as hellas if he messed with her and risked losing one of the only opportunities he had.

------

Aelin swung her foot back and forth like a pendulum as she waited for Maeve to appear. She’d been sitting in her office for nearly fifteen minutes, just sitting by herself. It wasn’t surprising, Maeve was always like this, had to remind you of who really held the power.

Yes, Aelin was one of the highest paid models in the entire country, effectively the world too, but she wouldn’t be anywhere near she was without Maeve.

Aelin didn’t like to admit it, but it was true.

So she’d wait. She’d be patient.

She’d already flicked off Rowan as he passed, dressed in his stupid little jeans and polo shirt. He worked at a model agency, he couldn’t get better clothes? He looked good in them though, she couldn’t deny that.

The jeans hugged him nicely, and his arms in those shirts of his. They would’ve made her mouthwater if she didn’t have enough self control.

If he wasn’t such an asshole, he’d be exactly her type. But fortunately, she could control herself, and any desire she had for him was tempered by his entire personality.

The door clicked open, and Maeve soon entered her own office, her heels tapping against the floor as she made her way over to her desk, sliding into place gracefully.

“Aelin,” she greeted with a smile. But the smile was cold. “Lovely to see you today.”

“You too, Maeve,” Aelin replied, just as icily. But her boss was already flipping through Aelin’s file, pulling out whatever she wanted to talk about in this spontaneous meeting. Aelin wasn't even supposed to come into the office today; she was supposed to go straight to Lysandra’s fashion company actually, to do a consultation for their runway show.

It was great getting to work with her best friend, and Aelin had been excited for today. But this was getting in the way.

“What did you want to discuss with me?” She said, a bit exasperated. Maeve just flipped through the folder casually, betraying how little of a rush she was in.

“You’ve been contacted for an exciting opportunity,” the brunette woman said, and Aelin raised her brows. “You’ve worked with them before but it’s been a long time. I never thought they’d want you again considering that time span, so you’d do best to act nice for them.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, fighting the urge to cross her arms. Instead, she reached for one of the vegan cookies Maeve kept in a dish on her desk. Cookies should be surprising in a model agency, but they were so absurdly healthy that Aelin was sure she’d lose more calories from digesting it than she’d even get from eating it.

But it was something to keep her occupied and not fidgety.

That was, until Maeve eyed her carefully, finally looking up from the papers. “You’d do well to watch your weight,” she chastised, and the cookie turned to ash in her mouth. “You’ve been looking a little thicker around the waist lately.”

“I lost ten pounds last month,” Aelin said, trying not to argue. And trying not to sound too weak.

“And we agreed on fifteen,” Maeve said, “you have to be looking your best if you don’t want to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

She nodded vaguely, not looking at her. The cookie settled uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Who am I working with?” Aelin changed the topic, forcing a polite smile onto her face.

But Maeve’s smile back was anything but polite.

“Rifthold Fashion,” she answered, naming one of the oldest and most iconic fashion magazines in the entire country of Adarlan, the entire world.

Aelin should be happy that she was getting another shot with them. She’d done a shoot with them when she was eighteen, a profile about being an up and comer in the industry. But she hadn’t been there since.

And now, she only felt sick.

She didn’t remember how she managed to finish the conversation, all she could feel was the growing nausea inside of her. And when Maeve dismissed her, she couldn’t wait any longer before heading straight to the bathroom, dropping to her knees, and vomiting into the toilet.

She shuddered as she let out all of the meager amount of things she’d eaten that day, the bile tasting bitter as she spit into the ceramic.

Another wave went through her and she retched again, panting before leaning her head against the tile wall.

Invisible hands trailed along her body and she curled up into a ball, trying to fight the feeling. Her heels slipped off her feet and a few tears slipped out of her eyes.

Gods. She shouldn’t be having such a visceral reaction to just the idea of going back there, to the idea of seeing that man.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a rough sigh. She was better than this. She needed to get over it, otherwise she’d never be able to advance her career. She’d never be able to live.

So she uncurled herself, standing up weakly, smoothing her hair back and wiping her mouth as she headed to the door. But, when she opened it, she found someone standing on the other side.

-----

Rowan had finished up the shoot with Remelle, unable to stop her from giving him her number, and was on the way out of the studio when he heard something coming from the bathroom as he passed.

It sounded like someone was getting sick, and he frowned, stopping. He was about to knock on the door and ask if they were okay, whoever it was, but he hesitated, and soon enough the door was opening on its own.

And he blinked at the sight.

It was Aelin, her high heels in her hand, her hair messy and her eyes… they looked a little wild, and sad, tears staining her cheeks with streaks of her mascara.

He didn’t even know what to say.

“Oh,” she said, looking away and quickly wiping at her eyes with her free hand. His heart ached and he didn’t know why. He was just frozen as she bent down, sliding her shoes back onto her feet. And then she said, “if you’ll excuse me,” and she rushed past him, tucking her hair behind her ears as she hurried down the hallway and out of sight.

Leaving Rowan alone, and more confused than he’d ever been in his life.

-------

Aelin raced around her apartment, getting the finishing touches in the decor perfectly right before everyone arrived. It was just a simple get together, they weren’t celebrating anything, but she always liked to think along the lines of that every get together was worth celebrating, so she wanted to make it look as nice as possible.

She’d even swept and vacuumed, which she usually had to force herself to remember to do. And she’d straightened everything up, getting drinks and setting up a little bar area in the kitchen, as well as some sparkly decorations to give the room some pizazz.

Then she pranced over to her record player, putting on a nice jazzy album and dimming the lights just as the first person knocked.

She smiled, fixing her dress and heading over to the door. It was just the usual crew coming over, plus a few extras, but like she said, why not make every occasion a special one?

But when she opened the door, her smile dropped into an awkward frown. Rowan was there, and looking decidedly uncomfortable when he realized he was the first one.

Aelin hated that he’d seen her coming out of the bathroom earlier, looking like she’d just gone through hell. Because she had in a way, or at least revisited it in her mind. She kept trying to push the memory down, and most of the time she was successful, but that just meant whenever it did come up, it came up stronger. Especially now that she’d be seeing him again.

But Rowan didn’t need to know that.

“Come in,” she said politely, forcing a smile back on her face as she stepped to the side, holding the door open for him. Rowan looked just as awkward as her, but he was watching her in a way that made her fidget, like he was waiting for her to fall apart again just so he could inspect what had caused her to break.

They hadn’t seen each other at the agency today, so it hadn’t been since the bathroom incident that they’d had any interaction at all. Which just made this even worse.

“There’s drinks over there,” she gestured loosely to the kitchen, shutting the door and following him into the apartment. “You can set your food over on that table.”

Rowan had a plate of what looked like… green beans? She blinked at it, but didn’t question him as he went and set it down where she’d directed him to. Maybe she’d even give them a try.

As he did that, she went back to the record player, wanting something to fiddle with instead of talking to him, or even looking at him. She felt exposed, and vulnerable now that he’d seen her like that. She did so well at hiding all of her true emotions, not even her cousin knew when she was really hurting, and unintentionally she’d just revealed them all to a man she knew didn’t like her.

“That’s nice music,” that same man said, and she glanced over, a little surprised at the neutral statement. He was still looking at her oddly, and she blushed a little, insecurity racing through her.

“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat and turning back around. “This album was a favorite of my dad’s, we used to listen to it together.” The words were like a dagger to her heart, a pain so intense she had to fight back tears. But she just sniffed and forced a mocking smile to her face as she looked at him again.

“I’m surprised you even know what good music is,” she teased, though it sounded more like an insult. “You seem like the type to sit around in utter silence.” Maybe she did mean it as an insult, just to regain some familiar territory. And she was successful, as his face turned cold, but she didn’t know if that made her feel better or not.

Luckily, she was saved by another knock at the door, and she turned her attention to the new guest, ignoring Rowan once again.

----

Soon enough, the party was in full swing, and Rowan didn’t speak to Aelin again for the next few hours. If it wasn’t for the fact that they usually never talked, he would say she was avoiding him, always flitting away to different people whenever their proximity threatened conversation.

She was wearing a gauzy silver dress, and it was almost like she was another one of her sparkly decorations, floating around the room, always there but never in one place for long.

Rowan, on the other hand, didn’t move from the chair he’d planted himself in, sipping on a beer and generally not participating in the revelry. He couldn’t help but watch her though, trying to tie this image of her, smiling and carefree, with the one from the day before, wide eyed and scared almost.

Which one was real? Which one was a mask?

He was intrigued in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, but it was clear she wasn’t open to him trying to pry, if the way she’d shut down the brief, awkward conversation earlier was any indication. Fair enough. Just because he’d accidentally seen her when she clearly wasn’t expecting any eyes didn’t mean he had any right to know more.

And yet…

His gaze was on hers as she perched on the edge of her fancy couch, right next to her friend Dorian, laughing as she worked on another plate of his green beans, to his satisfaction. It was her third one.

Despite the plentiful other options the other guests had brought, she’d stuck with those. It was an old recipe his mom had used to make, before she passed, and he’d perfected it over the past couple of years. And if Aelin, the self declared sugar purist, liked them, he knew he was doing something right.

He’d always thought it was strange how obsessed she was with sugar, for being a model. Though he knew she also exercised like crazy. But still, for how unhealthily she ate, she was essentially a twig. Maybe she had a fast metabolism? Some people were like that.

Still, she looked like she could snap in half with the smallest breeze.

The typical model body, he supposed.

“Gods, Aelin,” Aedion teased, good naturedly, from his spot in the kitchen talking to Lorcan. The jazz music was still on, though it was a different album this time. “I didn’t even know you knew what a green bean was.”

Rowan watched, like he was looking through a glass wall, as Aelin threw her cousin an unkind gesture.

“I’m surprised you do,” she teased, raising her brows. Though, maybe Rowan was imagining things, but he could’ve sworn her cheeks turned slightly pink. “I’m allowed to stray from sugar for one night.”

It was Elide’s turn to snort, the petite brunette nudging Aelin’s leg with her shoe. “I served broccoli at my apartment last week and you asked me what it was.”

“You know,” Aelin said, shaking her head, clearly fighting a smile. “I don’t like this conversation.” Her friends continued heckling her, all of them eventually breaking into laughter, but Rowan still didn’t join in, choosing to observe instead.

That’s how he didn’t miss when she set the plate down on the table. And didn’t pick it up again.

Nor did he miss when she excused herself quietly, slipping away from the party easily.

Rowan was tempted to follow her, to see if she was okay, to see if her mask was gone once again, he didn’t know. But he didn’t. He just sat there sipping his beer, wondering why he cared so much about a girl he was supposed to hate.

And he knew he was a fool when she came back out a few minutes later, looking as perky as ever. The bathroom, she’d just gone to the fucking bathroom.

She didn’t need his concern. And he certainly didn’t need to give it to her.

------

The party didn’t end until late into the night, and Aelin was exhausted and a little dizzy as she crashed back down on her couch, her cousin by her side. Lysandra couldn’t make it that night, having a pressing work thing occupying her time, so Aedion was staying over, taking the chance for some quality family time.

She yawned as she leaned her head against his shoulder, tucking her feet up under her as he turned on the TV, immediately going to the sports channel and watching a rerun of a football game from earlier that evening.

Her stomach was still roiling from those green beans, even if she’d tried to take care of the problem.

“Who’s playing?” Aelin asked, trying to avoid the topic in her mind. Aedion didn’t even turn to her as he answered, eyes glued on the game.

“The Rifthold Ravens and Terrasen Stags,” he said, “Stags are up by 3 but the Ravens are in field goal territory. So they could either tie it or go for a touchdown.”

“Shit,” she said, sitting up a little, “well we can’t let the Ravens win.” Her eyes went to the screen too, immediately clocking what was going on. Aelin had grown up with Aedion, even before her parents died. He’d moved in with them when she was very little after his mom had died, so she’d grown up watching football.

And even if they lived in Rifthold now, they were both from Terrasen, and therefore were both Stags fans for life.

Her dad had been too.

“If they tie we have to go into overtime,” Aelin frowned, watching as they lined up for the final play, the dark purple uniforms of the Ravens lined up against the green uniforms of the Stags. Her heart was beating way too fast as the Ravens hiked the ball, the quarterback running back to find someone to throw too.

“Go, go, go,” Aedion was calling, watching the Terrasen defense. Aelin joined him, nearly jumping out of her seat as the quarterback threw the ball and -

“YES!” Her cousin shouted as a Terrasen player intercepted the ball in the end zone. The whole team raced over to him, hitting each other and shoving each other in the way that only guys feel the need to do. But Aelin was up and dancing in celebration with Aedion as the final score rang out.

24 - 21 in favor of the Stags.

Aelin laughed as Aedion pumped his fist to the ceiling, celebrating as if he himself was the player who’d caught the ball.

“Fuck yeah!” He yelled, “that’s right you Rifthold fuckers! We’ll show you what real football looks like!”

“Gods,” Aelin laughed, shaking her head, “you’ve gotten worse. Which I didn’t think was possible.”

“This is real life, Aelin,” Aedion said, pointing at the TV, a wild smile on his face. “Not you and Lys’ fashion world, this is all that matters, right here.” Aelin didn’t even take offense, knowing he didn’t mean it like that. She just snorted, and shook her head, trying to shake away some of the dizziness that’d taken over.

Was it hot in here? Or was it just her? Her legs trembled, clearly weak, and she figured she needed to sit down.

“Are you going to start praying to the TV now?” She mocked, plopping back down on the couch. It wasn’t instant relief, but she was certainly in less danger of passing out.

“Hey,” he said, sitting back down too as the TV faded back to the sportscasters, ready to give commentary on what they’d just seen. “I’m not as bad as Rhoe was. Remember the championship about ten years ago?”

Two years before he died.

But Aelin chuckled slightly, remembering how enthusiastic her dad had been, how angry he’d been at the refs for bad calls, how happy he’d been when the Stags came out victorious.

They faded into silence, Aedion watching the TV and Aelin staring at nothing, falling deep into the trap of her own head once again.

It was a vicious place to be.

“Hey Aed?” She asked him, an uncountable amount of time later. “Do you ever think about them?”

She risked a glance over at him, seeing his face slip into sadness that she wished she could wipe away. But he looked back at her, too much knowing in his eyes for her. It made her want to hide.

“Of course,” he said, looping his arm over her shoulder, ruffling her hair a bit as he tucked her into his side. “All the time.”

Heat pricked at her eyes, and she blinked quickly before a tear could slip out. Their death had been so sudden, a simple car crash. Here one minute, gone the next, leaving her utterly alone.

“You know,” Aedion said, after another minute. “If you’re still struggling you can talk to me about it. I’m always here for you.” She looked up at him, seeing the honesty in his eyes.

Aelin had gone to therapy for a brief period of time after moving in with Aedion, when she was fifteen. It’d ended fairly quickly, but he’d always suggested that she could go back. Or at least recommended she keep an open mind.

Not that he even knew the depth of it now. Nor the heaps of things that’d been added onto her plate.

“I’m okay,” she lied, painting a small smile on her face. “But thank you for checking in.”

Aedion looked at her, and she tried to make her expression look more sincere. He sighed. “I love you, kid,” he said, and she made a noise of protest.

“Three years older, Aedion,” she said, “you’re only three years older.” He just laughed.

“And I will forever hold it against you,” he said, and it was her turn to sigh. But she rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and soon fell asleep to the dulcet sounds of football commentary, feeling both at home and like she was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drowning, with no way to swim to the surface.

———

A few days later, Rowan was mindlessly working on editing some photos in his apartment, when his email notification dinged.

He turned the screen away from Remelle’s face, pulling up the email tab instead and opening the email he’d just gotten. And groaned.

It was an invitation to an agency-wide formal party that Saturday, one he’d forgotten was happening. They’d all been alerted about it weeks ago, but Rowan had put it out of his mind, childishly hoping that if he just didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t happen.

Especially because his invitation was tagged with the words: Your presence is required. Take photos.

“Fuck,” he complained, dropping his head in a hand. He hated these things, hated how many there were. It seemed like every other week, there was some event he had to go to, doubling as a headshot photographer and an apparent publicist. Why shell out the money for two different workers when they could just overwork him?

His cousins used to make fun of him endlessly for how little he liked socialization, always refusing to go out with them after he'd moved in with them when his parents died. People were just either idiots, or prying assholes, or just obnoxious. He wasn’t a fan of going out and partying with a bunch of strangers; it’d either be with people he knew or not at all.

But now he’d be forced to socialize with a bunch of people like Remelle, who’d been texting him incessantly for the past week. Rowan tried to put her off, responding with one word or not at all, but she was persistent. And he didn’t want to block her completely, even if every text alert he got made him want to throw his phone off a roof.

Did he even have a suit? He’d have to check.

He had one from the last formal event he’d been forced to, but he wasn’t sure if it fit anymore. He’d upped the amount of times he went to the gym to lift recently, trying to get out all of his negative emotions through exercise.

Rowan was about to close out of his email and go check, when his eyes caught on another email he’d apparently missed earlier in the day. Right there in bold was the title:

The Rifthold Institute of Photography

His heart raced as he clicked it to open it, leaning back in his seat as he read the email.

He’d seen a post for a position there a few months ago, and had applied, but never heard anything back. The Institute was a museum of photography of sorts, with a magazine that they released monthly. The job he was trying to get would be an editor/contributor for the magazine, which would mean he would get to both help put the magazine together while also submitting his own pictures for consideration.

It was really his dream job. But when months passed and he hadn’t heard back, he’d given up.

But here they were.

“Dear Mr. Whitethorn,” he started to read, skimming through it. “...haven’t picked a candidate yet… narrowed down to three, we request you submit a portfolio for further consideration, keeping to the theme organic.”

It was mostly just details after that, about how to submit, how many pictures to submit, and he skimmed it all before leaning back in his chair as he read the due date.

Three weeks from now.

He released a heavy breath, nodding his head.

“You’ve got this, Rowan,” he whispered to himself, before standing up and grabbing his camera, abandoning the photos he was editing in favor of going outside to take his own.

He needed to get inspiration somehow, he needed to start planning.

Why not start now?

---------

Aelin was in the middle of a pilates workout when she got the email. It wasn’t anything she didn’t know about already, in fact she’d already had her gown specially designed and ordered, but it was nice to get confirmation that it was actually happening.

She paused the workout as she read the email, panting with sweat dripping down her forehead. The perky girl on the TV was mid crunch, but Aelin didn’t press play again, choosing instead to sit up fully on her yoga mat.

She grabbed her water bottle from next to her, guzzling at least half of it down before wiping the excess water off her chin. Uncurling her legs, she pushed herself to a stand, way too quickly apparently as her vision dimmed, her head spinning and her legs buckling from beneath her.

She crumpled back down onto the yoga mat, hands braced on the floor as she caught her breath, trying to inhale and exhale slowly until she regained control over her muscles.

Slowly but surely, the dizzy feeling went away, and she stood up, ignoring how her hands shook as she picked up her phone and headed into her closet. Well, the room that was her closet.

Maybe she should take a break from exercising, and go check out her dress instead. She pushed the hair that came out of her ponytail behind her ear as she walked into the room, sniffing as she reached the garment bag hanging up on the far wall.

Wiping her hands on her shorts, she got rid of the lingering sweat before unzipping the bag, fingering the dark green fabric inside.

It looked just as perfect as it had the day she’d first gotten it; she didn’t know what she was checking.

Everything would be perfectly fine, there was no need to worry.

If only that were always true.

---------

Maeve had sent a limo for her to get to the building for the gala. Which was useful, because Aelin didn’t have a car, nor did she have a license.

She lived in the city, she could walk everywhere she needed to go.

But she was grateful for the limo, because walking in these shoes would’ve been hell, which she knew as soon as she stepped out of the car, the five inch stilettos pinching painfully as she walked toward the door.

It was worth it though. She looked fucking good.

Her hair was swept up into a sleek updo, her golden locks shining with the bit of glitter her stylist had put in them. Her dark green dress was silky and wrapped around her curves modestly, but with a neckline that plunged all the way to her waist, leaving her sun tanned skin on display.

The skirt had a slit too, revealing her smooth legs with every step she took.

It got everyone’s attention when she got inside, drawing both male and female’s gazes alike, exactly the way she loved to. She was a model, she enjoyed knowing people found her attractive. They could look, but they certainly weren’t entitled to touch.

Though some people thought they were.

She pasted a small smile on her face as she made her way over to the drinks, grabbing a glass of champagne to sip. The lobby had been transformed into some Hollywood movie scene, with dimmed lights and golden decor and overflowing tables of drinks and food.

It was honestly excessive, but they had the money for it. Aelin knew just her percentage alone would be able to pay for all of this, let alone hers combined with all of the other models in the agency.

She took a sip of the champagne, meandering around the room.

There were a lot of people here, but none she wanted to talk to. And none of them wanted to talk to her. One of the negatives of success in this industry was the jealousy it bred among girls who thought they should be right where you are. It was only fed by the people higher up, pitting them against each other. Aelin was well aware, but it didn’t change the fact that she was generally left alone.

There was a string quartet playing music in the corner, and she unconsciously swayed to it a bit, bobbing her head in time with the violins as she wandered around to a different corner, looking for something to do.

And then she saw Rowan.

He was standing against another wall, fidgeting with that camera of his. Apart from that, and the dark expression on his face, he blended right in with the party in his suit and white button up shirt, and a dark green tie that unfortunately perfectly matched her dress.

He looked like a guest, not an employee, though she knew Maeve made him take photos during events like these.

Finally finding something to do, Aelin set her feet toward him, heading in his direction. Arguing with him would be perfect entertainment.

Or maybe she could ask him how he made those green beans. Even if she’d eaten way too many of them, if she could learn the recipe and make them herself, she could eat them sparingly throughout the week.

Aelin could tell the exact moment he saw her coming, because he stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing at her approach.

She hated to admit it, but he looked good. His light hair was tousled perfectly, his tan skin and that tattoo of his peeking slightly out of the collar of his shirt. She wasn’t necessarily a tattoo person, but on him it was mouthwatering.

“Shall I pose for you?” She mocked, and he rolled his eyes, fidgeting with some buttons on his camera.

“Don’t you have enough photos of yourself?” Rowan asked, lifting up his camera to snap a picture of the crowd, the way the lens fluttered so familiar to her.

“Is that possible?” Aelin replied, lifting her brows. “Especially when I look as good as I do now.”

He turned his dark gaze back to her, and she swore she could physically feel it as his eyes traced up and down her entire body, her breath stuttering in her chest involuntarily.

“You always look like this,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes, her heels clicking as she took a step toward him.

“Do I, Rowan Whitethorn?” She asked, tilting her head, but he continued to ignore her, his jaw clenched tightly as he took another picture.

“I don’t pay enough attention to you to notice,” he said after a moment, “get your fulfillment from one of your millions of followers on instagram instead, because you won’t get anything from me.”

And then she was watching him walk away, his camera hooked around his neck as he went to find someone else to terrorize from behind the lens.

The rest of the party went by dreadfully slowly after that, and with each sip of champagne, she got angrier and angrier at him. At his sheer audacity. So what, they didn’t like each other, but did he have to be like that?

No, fuck him.

Soon enough, she knew her cheeks with flushed with alcohol and rage, and she was searching for him again, so she could show him a piece of her mind. But he wasn’t anywhere in the main lobby, so she had to go looking, heading down different hallways in her heels, desperately looking for him to rage at.

He was always an asshole, but this time for some reason, to her it was crossing a line.

Weaving her way back through the lower floor hallways, Aelin ignored the way her feet ached in her heels, desperately searching for this godsdamned man. And eventually she found him, wrapped around another blonde.

He was further down the hallway, his camera bag on the ground and his back against the wall, the blonde leaning up against him.

She narrowed her eyes but slowed down, not wanting to intrude on whatever this was.

“Come on,” she heard the blonde say, faintly from the far distance. “You know you want to.”

“I told you to leave me alone, Remelle,” came Rowan’s voice, and Aelin saw him try to carefully pry Remelle’s hands away from his chest. “I’m not interested.”

“Of course you are,” Remelle said, “just admit it.”

“Remelle-” Rowan said, but he was cut off by the blonde kissing him, which made Aelin see red so much she was stomping over there, lifting up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem.

“Hey!” She shouted, and Remelle pulled back, both of them looking over at her in shock. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you not understand the meaning of the word no?”

Remelle just scoffed, showing a lot of nerve for someone who’d clearly just started out here. Aelin had never seen her fucking face in her life.

“And who are you?” Remelle said, raising her pale brows, and Aelin narrowed her eyes, sinking into a hip.

“I’m Aelin Galathynius,” she said, watching as the other girl’s face paled. Even if Remelle had somehow managed to never see her face, she would know her name. And how important she was. “And you better leave Rowan alone, and every other man you’ve tried to touch without their permission, otherwise I’ll have a little chat with Maeve and see if she’s still interested in taking you on.”

Remelle’s face tightened in challenge, but she didn’t dare to respond, clearly seeing that Aelin meant what she was saying.

“Now get the fuck out of here before I decide to go talk to her right now.” Aelin gestured out of the hallway, not saying another word until Remelle followed her instruction, with as much dignity as she could manage, which wasn’t a lot.

Eventually, her and Rowan were alone, and she looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. No one should ever touch someone without their permission; she felt shaky at the thought.

But Rowan… looked angry.

“What’s your problem?” She decided to ask, set on edge by the way his jaw was clenched. And maybe her first thought shouldn’t have been how handsome he looked when he was mad. “I just saved your ass.”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat, and she recoiled, tensing at the challenge.

“You sure looked like you did,” Aelin argued, stepping closer, “or was that all part of your plan to woo her? Because that’s a little fucked up.”

“Gods,” he cursed, “you’re so godsdamned irritating.” He pushed off the wall, stepping toward her too. “Why do you have to always be so… important?” She let out an indignant noise. “My savior, my hero, when really, you’re just a pain in my ass.”

“Oh really?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes and taking one more step. “Well, you’re just the same to me,” she said, with equal vitriol, trying to ignore the way his breath felt against her face as he huffed.

It was only then she realized just how close they were, how there were only inches between them. How if she lifted her head just enough, and he lowered his just enough, their lips would be touching.

The hot anger in her stomach melded into something different, and the flush on her cheeks was no longer from the alcohol as he seemed to realize the same thing, his dark gaze dropping down to her lips.

She dared to lift her chin, her breaths coming out heavy as heat raced through her. Rowan dipped his chin in response, closing the distance until the edges of their lips just grazed past each other, their breaths mingling. One little inch and they’d be kissing, but neither of them made the move.

Heavy hands settled on her hips, and she had just enough time to clutch at his shoulders before he was taking a step forward, guiding her until she was against the wall. His head dropped down to press a hot kiss to the underside of her jaw, and she made a breathy noise, feeling hot all over.

Her eyes fell closed, and she clutched at his collar, warmth pooling in her core as he stepped closer, letting her feel every hard inch of him against her. One of his hands slid across her stomach and down her thigh, reaching for her exposed leg and holding it up to step in even closer.

His other hand moved until it was brushing the skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, sliding up her stomach until it reached the bare skin right under her breasts, his callouses rough against her.

Gods, she didn’t think she’d ever been this turned on in her life.

His attention returned to her neck, even as his fingers dug into her, undoubtedly leaving little marks. And her breath hitched as he placed hot, wet kisses down her throat, finally settling on the junction of her neck and shoulder, daring to nibble slightly.

An embarrassingly loud moan escaped her, but the groan he let out against her took all embarrassment away and she reached to loosen his tie, sliding her hands under the collar of his shirt to feel all of his deliciously hot skin.

The room felt damp with desire, sweat undeniably coating her body with all of the heat racing through her. Her core throbbed with need as he pressed against her, the friction between them both delectable and overwhelming.

She needed him, she needed him right now. She needed the clothes to be gone, she needed him holding her roughly against the wall as he slid into her, making her feel like she’d never felt before.

He dragged his tongue against the sweaty skin of her neck, and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore.

“Rowan,” she moaned, clutching him desperately, hoping he’d take the hint to do more. But instead, he pulled back roughly, shaking his head.

“Shit,” he cursed, his hands clenching into fists.

“What -”

“No, we can’t,” was all he said while shaking his head, before quickly fixing his tie and combing his hair. And before she could even blink, he scooped up his camera from the ground and nearly ran away, leaving her cold. And wanting.

And regretting every bit of that moment as much as him.

----------

Several days passed, and yet Rowan couldn’t get that damned moment out of his head. He couldn’t forget the way Aelin’s skin had felt under his finger tips, the way her throat had felt against his mouth, the way her body had melded to his.

He’d let himself go for those few minutes, and he regretted it, but he couldn’t help it with how she’d looked in that dress. She was always stunning, but that night she’d been ethereal, and mouthwatering, and way too damn much for his self control.

And the way she’d moaned his name… he wanted nothing more than that to rid both of them of all their clothes and see what other sounds he could make, but he also knew this was clearly a heat of the moment thing.

Yes, she was attractive, but that didn’t mean he should forget every single other thing about her.

He needed some actual self control.

Soon enough though, he found something else to occupy his mind other than the lingering scent of jasmine in his nose. The portfolio.

He still had over two weeks, but the clock was ticking and he still had nothing to show for the days he’d been brainstorming.

So much so that he was fighting the urge to stay home and work instead of going out to dinner with Lorcan and Elide like he was supposed to. But while he knew Lorcan would understand, he also knew Elide would have his head if he skipped again.

Lorcan was his oldest friend, and Elide was the first one of his current friend group he was introduced to, so he felt closer to them two than anyone else. Maybe he could talk out his situation with them, see what they’d say.

The portfolio situation though, not the Aelin situation. No, that was to be kept locked up tight, and blamed on the champagne and the stress, nothing more.

That’s how he found himself walking down 4th avenue a few hours later, hands tucked in his pockets until he reached the restaurant, ducking in and quickly finding the pair sitting down already.

“Hey,” Rowan said a bit lamely, plopping into the chair across from them.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Elide questioned, immediately gauging something was wrong. Lorcan just grunted a hello, sipping on his drink.

“Work stuff,” Rowan tried to dismiss, but Elide just raised a dark brow. He sighed. “I have a big job opportunity but I need a portfolio prepared and I have no inspiration for the theme they’re giving me.”

“Hmm,” she said, nodding her head. “What’s the theme?”

“Organic,” he said, raising his brows. “It’s really vague, which is useful sometimes but now it just leaves me with nothing.”

Elide leaned back in her chair, stirring her straw in her drink as she thought. They sat in silence as they all contemplated, letting the rock music of the dive bar take over. Rowan just ran through the same ideas he’d already thought of in his head over and over, finding the same faults yet again.

“What about a series of candids?” Elide finally piped in. “I’m no photographer, but that would be organic. You could keep it in the same day, or same event, to keep it consistent. But just to show an organic slice of humanity.”

Rowan considered the thought for a moment before nodding. “That could work,” he said, running through logistics in his head. Even if it didn’t, it was worth a shot. “Who would they be of though?” He asked, thinking it was a reasonable question, but Elide snorted.

“You act like we don’t know a professional model,” she said, and his stomach dropped.

“She won��t want to,” he said automatically, shaking his head. That would be unbearably awkward after what had happened. They’d only seen each other once at the office since then, and it was horrible, he couldn’t imagine spending a whole day with just her.

No, he couldn’t.

But Elide clearly thought differently.

“I’ll convince her,” she said, waving off his concern. “Don’t worry.”

Little did she know, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

---------

The universe seemed to be playing a trick on her, forcing her to stop exercising nearly every day in favor of some all important notification.

She was in the middle of her morning run, about to hit a new record of six miles, when she got the email. At first, she didn’t understand what it was, but after slowing the treadmill down to a walk so she could focus on it better, she figured it out.

Ms. Galathynius,

It’s a pleasure to be working with you again after so long. I’m personally very excited to get the opportunity to see your progress after all of these years, and am certainly glad to be able to say I contributed to catapulting your career.

After all, where would you be without me?

Attached is a document detailing more information about the shoot itself: what you’ll be expected to provide versus what we’ll give you, as well as the general schedule and the plan for the day.

Feel free to email my secretary with any questions you may have.

Arobynn Hamel

Aelin’s chest felt too tight as she finished reading, and she quickly shut her phone off and started the treadmill back up, putting the pace even faster than it had been before. Maybe she could run away from the feelings attempting to snatch her and drag her down into hell.

He was either pretending it’d never happened and acting like everything was fine, or attempting to subtly use his power over her yet again.

Either way, she felt sick.

She fought for air as she turned up the speed on the treadmill, her legs shaking and jolting with pain as she ran like her life depended on it.

“Fuck,” she cursed breathlessly, realizing only then that tears were soaking her face. Was this what it was going to be like? Her constantly feeling like shit but never being able to acknowledge it?

Was she supposed to walk into that building, stare him in the face, and pretend just like he was that nothing was wrong?

She let out a sob, wiping at her cheek roughly as she kept running. Maybe she’d run herself to death and never have to speak to him. Would that be better?

It would be easier.

She was reaching the verge of her legs falling off completely, when her phone buzzed. She hesitated for a second, but reached for the device, reading the text alert on the screen.

It was from Elide.

> Rowan needs a model for a job application

> I told him you’d do it

> and before you say no, you owe me for last week

Aelin groaned, sufficiently distracted as she shut off the treadmill. Elide was a kick ass lawyer, and had come to help her look over her new contract for the agency after her last one was due to expire.

She hadn’t accepted any payment, just innocuously called for a favor instead. Neither of them had expected her to cash it in, but here she was.

A photo shoot with Rowan. Fuck.

That would be hellish after what had happened between them.

But at least it was modeling. If she was good at anything it was that. And Rowan was professional enough when he needed to be.

And if this was really for a job application, he was sure to take it seriously, given how much she knew he hated the job he currently had.

He disguised it well enough at the agency, but everyone knew. Maybe that was why Maeve piled on the work, out of spite.

She sighed, stepping off of the treadmill. But her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. And instead of trying to get back up, she just sat there, thinking.

A photoshoot with Rowan. There’s no telling how it could go. She wouldn’t be surprised if it devolved into an argument, but she also wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up in his bedroom, picking up where they left off the other day.

She picked up her phone, flipping to a contact that she didn’t think she’d ever texted directly. But she typed in his number, typing in the word Hey and sending it to him.

Hate or lust, it could go either way. But she supposed they were about to find out.

-----------

Rowan was fidgeting with his camera when the knock on the door sounded. It was light, but direct, like the person making it was sure this was where they were supposed to be, but didn’t know if they wanted to be there.

He felt the same way.

Regardless, he loosed a sigh and stood up, getting ready to welcome Aelin into his home.

When he pulled open the door, there she was, standing there as regal as ever. She was dressed more casually than usual, in loose jeans and a tank top, though they fit her slim body well.

Her hair was pulled back in a clip, some strands falling out in the front. She had sparse makeup on, no concealer to cover up as she blushed slightly, glancing away from him.

He felt like blushing too, but cleared his throat instead, holding the door open for her to come on.

Aelin walked in carefully, her gaze traveling around the small apartment. Neither of them spoke as she observed the place, Rowan rubbing at the back of his neck as he waited for her judgment. She’d never been here before.

“Did you take all of these yourself?” She asked, wandering over toward one of the walls, where he had a display of yes, his own photographs. Maybe it was conceited of him, but he was proud of his talent.

“Yes,” he answered, dragging a hand through his hair as he shut the door and turned to lean against it awkwardly.

Aelin seemed fixated on one in particular, of a tree from an angle right by the trunk looking up, catching the way rain streamed through the leaves.

“Where was this one taken?” She asked, tilting her head to look at it.

“The park downtown,” Rowan answered, walking over to her slowly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been there,” she replied, and he was honestly a bit surprised. She’d lived here for almost a decade, he was pretty sure, and she’d never been there? But she shocked him even more when she said, “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said, flushing a bit at the out of the blue compliment. She stared at it for another minute before seemingly coming to her senses, clearing her throat and looking at him, her hand tight on the bag hooked over her shoulder.

“So,” she said, not looking directly into his eyes. “I don’t know what you were thinking clothes wise, but I brought some different options.” She moved toward the couch, perching on the edge as she took out a folded stack of clothes from her bag. “But I also don’t really know what we’re doing.”

Rowan moved to sit in the chair next to the couch, trying to explain his vision.

“I don’t know how much Elide explained,” he said, leaning forward on his knees, “but this is for an application to the Rifthold Institute of Photography.” Her brows shot up. “I need to make a portfolio with the theme organic, and Elide had the idea of doing candids, so -” he sucked in a breath, “I was thinking we could just… hang out. And I could take pictures throughout the day.”

It was only late morning, so they had all day to just - be around each other.

Aelin’s face was unreadable, but eventually she nodded slowly.

“In that case,” she said, reaching toward her pile and pulling out what looked to be a long white sundress. “Does this work? It’s the most comfortable thing if I’m to be wearing it all day.” It was said with a bit of a teasing tone, and he knew that was her method of trying to offer a cease fire, which he reluctantly agreed to.

“That’s perfect,” he said, chuckling a bit, and she smiled, standing up off the couch.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, and headed toward it when he pointed to the guest one in the hallway.

While she was changing, Rowan grabbed his camera bag, switching out the SD card and packing an extra just to make sure he had enough storage. He hadn’t planned out what places he wanted to go all day, but he had an idea of where he wanted to start.

----------

“So where are we going?” Aelin asked him, about twenty minutes later, as they walked down the sidewalk after having left his apartment. Rowan had one hand in his pocket, the other one on his camera bag, and just smiled lightly. He had another bag slung over his shoulder too, but he didn’t need that one yet.

“That’s a surprise,” he said, and she scoffed, lifting her sunglasses and resting them on her head, her lips twisted into a pout. Rowan chuckled under his breath, unclipping the bag to take out his camera.

After looking down to make sure the settings were right, he lifted it up, turning to the left slightly to snap a picture of her. But Aelin caught what he was doing, and turned to smile at the camera, giving her signature model face.

“Ah,” he said, moving the camera. “Candid, remember? Pretend I’m not even here.”

The dismal expression on her face made him want to laugh, and he lowered the camera completely, resolving to try again and catch her when she really wasn’t paying attention.

Eventually she clicked her tongue and didn’t press the issue, clutching her purse to her arm as she walked down the sidewalk by his side. They were getting closer and closer to their destination, and Rowan watched her out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for her reaction.

And a strange, uncomfortable feeling grew in his chest as he saw her face light up in a delighted smile, though she dimmed it quickly, as if afraid of what he’d say.

That was fair, they hated each other no more than a few days ago. He still hated her, right?

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed.

“It’s the park,” she said, glancing over at him cautiously, and he nodded, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly. And he patted the second bag he was carrying.

“We’re going to have a picnic,” he said, and her brows shot up. But she just followed him as he took her toward the very tree he’d photographed.

She seemed to recognize it, smirking a bit as he set out a blanket. “No rain this time?” She asked, and he let out a huff of a laugh.

“Luckily no,” he said, sitting down a bit uncomfortably on the hard ground, his legs out in front of him. Aelin curled up gracefully next to him, the skirt of her dress floating down softly around her.

He didn’t have much food to bring with him, but he unpacked a few cut up sandwiches, and a tupperware container of grapes. Like a grade school kid’s lunch.

“What a feast,” she said, and he frowned, prepared to defend himself, but she was smiling. He realized it was a joke and he relaxed, though a bit unfamiliar still with this comradery.

It wouldn’t last.

But for now, he just enjoyed the sunshine and the fresh air and the food, and after a few minutes he took out his camera again, finally snapping the very first picture of what would hopefully be his new life.

----------

Aelin absolutely adored Rowan Whitethorn’s apartment.

It was a strange thing to say, and completely random, but it was true.

She’d thought it when she’d entered only that morning. It was quaint, and fairly small, but decked out in a vintagey 70s style almost, with a record player of his own in the corner and a jewel toned comfortable couch. And his photographs… she could spend hours just staring at them. He was truly talented.

And now, late in the evening with the soft bar lighting on, a vinyl crackling on the record player, two glasses of whiskey and monopoly in front of her, she thought she would be fine if she stayed here forever.

She laughed as Rowan rolled the dice, his little statue moving until he landed on the go to jail square for the fourth time this game.

“Sucker!” She pointed, giggling a bit. Alright, maybe she was on her third glass of whiskey. But she wasn’t going to stop. She felt all warm and fuzzy inside, and Rowan even let her smile brightly at the camera this time as he snapped yet another picture.

And then it was her turn to roll, and she moved the little dog statue four squares to the right, clapping in delight when she realized it was free to buy. “I’ll take it!” She said, reaching for her giant stack of fake bills.

She cackled as Rowan rolled again, hoping to get doubles, but failed, leaving him stuck in jail for another turn.

“Just pay to get out,” she advised, waving at the meager stack of funds on his side of the board.

“I don’t have enough,” he said, and he sounded so miserable, she nearly wanted to cry.

“Aww,” she said instead, pouting at him and reaching for her money. “Here,” she added, pulling out a couple of hundreds and flinging them out at him. “You have to properly compete with me.”

He didn’t take the money, but he did grab his camera again, and she fluttered the paper bills in front of her face, looking at him demurely.

When they’d returned to his apartment after the picnic, a quick stint in a bookstore and coffee shop, and then a brief walk through downtown, she’d changed out of her dress into a comfortable sweater and leggings, fuzzy socks on her feet.

She’d never been this dressed down around him, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

He’d changed too, into a soft looking t-shirt and sweatpants, and was lounging on the rug with her, sipping on his whiskey just like she was. She didn’t think he was quite as tipsy as her though; he had a lot more mass to absorb the alcohol.

“Do you want some dessert?” He asked as he uncurled himself to a stand, breaking her thoughts. “I have some gluten free muffins I made the other day.”

She wrinkled her nose, for a multitude of reasons. “That’s a sorry excuse for dessert,” she said, all high and mighty. Besides, she’d already splurged too much today. She’d nibbled on the sandwiches earlier, and some grapes, and then had shared a pastry with him at the cafe, and even ate a few pieces of chicken for dinner an hour or so ago. She couldn’t afford any more.

Her mood sank to the gutter nearly immediately, and in an attempt to stave it off she hopped to her feet, heading toward the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Twirling on her feet a bit, she poured herself another glass, relishing in the burn as she took a sip.

But a little dizzy at the same time, she decided it was best to sit down, plopping down on one of the barstools by the counter. Rowan grabbed his camera and came to join her, abandoning the “dessert”. What a health nut.

She didn’t eat it anymore, but at least she knew what actual dessert was.

Her chest clenched painfully, and she forced a smile onto her face, trying to keep the light mood of the evening going. Or night, really. The sun had long gone down, and yet, she was still here.

“Are you happy with your life?” She asked Rowan quietly, swirling the whiskey in her glass. He eyed her carefully.

“I would say so, generally,” he replied.

“What does that feel like?” She asked, her voice way too vulnerable, and she forced a laugh, avoiding his questioning eyes. “Just in case I decide to quit and move in to sleep on your absurdly comfortable couch, I have to figure out if it’d be worth it.”

Rowan chuckled, and she was both relieved and kicking herself at the deflection. Why would he care?

Aelin took another too large sip of her whiskey, hiccuping a bit as a notification pinged on her phone. She looked down, wiping her mouth as she glanced at the email, her stomach sinking when she saw it was another update on the schedule for the shoot at Rifthold Fashion.

“What’s that?” Rowan asked from his place next to her, clearly seeing her expression falter, and she laughed once, humorlessly as she tucked her socked feet up on the barstool with her. He snapped another picture of her, curled up and casual, before letting her answer.

“A shoot at Rifthold Fashion,” she said, “with Mr. Arobynn Hamel himself.” She shook her head, gulping down some more of the burning alcohol.

Rowan’s face twisted in distaste. “I’ve always heard that guy was a bit of an asshole.” It was a surprising statement. He was a powerful figure in the fashion world; either you’d never met him and assumed he was fine, or you had and were unable to speak against him for one reason or another. She’d never heard anyone admit what the rumors around him actually were, especially so casually, so maybe that’s why she said what she did.

“He assaulted me when I was eighteen,” she said, almost relishing in the shock on his face as she let out a burst of hysterical giggles. The alcohol was racing way too quickly through her weakened body. “I’ve never told anyone that.” She shook her head, covering her trembling mouth with an equally shaky hand.

“Aelin-“ he said, his face white as a sheet.

“Oh gods,” she sighed, before laughing again. “It’s not funny,” she tried to convince herself. She knew it wasn’t, but it was better to laugh than to break down completely. “It’s pretty horrible actually. It was one of my first big shoots, and he cornered me in the dressing room and I-“

She looked at Rowan, though his figure was slightly blurry, filled with the sudden need to convince him.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she explained, “I didn’t want to be blacklisted, I was a nobody. I came from nothing, I was nothing, and I am nothing now.”

A sob burst out of her, and she quickly wiped at her face, her hand coming away soaking wet. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. She shook her head.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” she said, in between sobs, setting her drink down and weakly rubbing her face to try and stop her tears. “I look like a lunatic right now.” She was sure her mascara was leaking down her cheeks, hooking down under her jaw. She couldn’t look like this, she couldn’t look anything less than perfect.

She scrubbed at her face, using her nails to try and pry off the stains. But a large, warm hand grabbed hers, stopping her in her tracks.

“Hey,” Rowan said, softer than Aelin thought she’d ever heard him. His face wasn’t quite gentle, he wasn’t exactly a gentle person, but it was open, not hard. She sniffed, and closed her eyes as his other hand came up to cup her cheek, more tears spilling out of her closed lashes.

She’d never felt his touch on her skin like this before, with just comfort instead of desire, and she liked the way his callouses felt against her soft cheek. So different from someone else’s hands, hands she could still feel all over her, no matter how many showers she took, no matter how much she tried to starve herself, both trying to wreck the body he’d touched and trying to create a perfect one so he’d never have that power over her again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she didn’t know what for.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, mirroring her own thoughts, and she cracked open her eyes, barely seeing him through the haze of tears and alcohol. His dark green eyes were as mesmerizing as they’d always been, yet more sincere than they’d ever been.

Aelin couldn’t even say anything; all she did was lift her hand to cover his own, holding it against her face.

He’d abandoned the camera, while before he’d been taking pictures every few minutes. She wondered what it must be like to live your life behind a lens. Was it better keeping that distance? Or was it lonely?

Though she supposed she lived her life in front of a lens, and there was nothing more isolating than that.

Another rebellious tear slipped out of her eye, and she sniffed again.

“Let me get you some water, okay?” Rowan offered, pulling back, and she nodded, wiping at her face as he stood up and went into the kitchen, grabbing her a glass. “Do you want to stay here tonight? I don’t really feel comfortable sending you home this late, and in this state.” He waved at her, and she chuckled slightly.

“What state do you mean?” She challenged, laughing again weakly at his flustered expression. “I’m just joking,” she amended, “you’re probably right.”

She looked at him a bit shyly. “Do you have anything I can wear? I get hot when I sleep and I don’t have anything comfortable besides this sweater.” was

Rowan blinked but nodded quickly, heading toward the back hallway. He returned with an old t-shirt, not too unlike the one he was wearing now. It was a soft, dark green material, and she had the feeling she’d never want to take it off.

“Does this work?” He asked, and she nodded, standing up off the barstool. But the third whiskey was hitting her and she wobbled, forcing him to hurry over and steady her. His hand was warm and strong on her arm and she was tempted to lean into him, but she didn’t.

Aelin giggled a bit, making Rowan chuckle as well.

“Gods,” he teased, “I think you’re ready for bed.” She giggled again, nodding as she stumbled over her feet.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said, fighting a yawn. But he shook his head.

“No, you can take the bed, I’ll stay out here on the couch.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just heading toward a closet in the hallway and pulling out a blanket and pillow. Aelin shuffled into the bathroom, quickly changing out of her bulky sweater and leggings into the absurdly soft t-shirt he’d given her.

It fell nearly to her knees, and completely dwarfed her, and she decided she never wanted to wear anything else.

When she left the bathroom, Rowan was getting the couch ready for himself, laying out the blanket, so she headed toward his bedroom, cheeks flushing at the thought of sleeping in his bed. But she was dreadfully tired. So she just wandered into the room, collapsing on top of the comforter.

She was content to stay there, breathing in the warm scent of pine, but Rowan knocked on the open door a few minutes later, and upon seeing her sprawled out on top of the bed, chuckled and came over to help her get more comfortable.

“Here you go,” he said, after tucking her under the comforter. She mumbled and tugged the blanket up closer to her chin, burrowing herself in his scent. “Good night, Aelin,” Rowan said, heading back toward the door. But a bit of panic shot through her.

“Rowan?” She asked quietly, and he paused, looking back at her. “Will you stay? Just for a little bit?”

He hesitated, but eventually padded over to the other side of the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. His hand came out to brush against her hair, and she leaned into the touch, yawning.

“I’m sorry about everything that’s happened to you,” he murmured a few minutes later, “about everything you’ve gone through.”

“S’okay,” she mumbled, “don’t apologize.”

“If there’s anything I can do I-” he said, before trailing off. Aelin shrugged, before a thought occurred to her.

“Will you come to the shoot with me?” She asked, her voice ringing through the darkened room. She’d feel better if he was there. Rowan didn’t respond for a few minutes, and she began to regret even asking. But then-

“Of course,” he said quietly, and she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed as he caressed her hair. “Now, get some rest, Aelin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And to the soothing sounds of his voice and the touch of his hand, she fell asleep.

------

Rowan didn’t know what exactly had happened, but that night caused him and Aelin to go from unwilling acquaintances to something close to friends. He didn’t know if it was quite friendship, but there’d been a change. A change that meant she smiled at him quietly at the office instead of flicking him off.

And yet, every time he saw her he couldn’t help but picture that unbearable sadness that had cracked through her facade. The way she’d laughed to try and hide the tears, but they’d streamed down her face anyway.

It seemed there was a lot he didn’t know about her. And he was realizing now that he was happy to get the privilege of learning more.

He’d also decided that should he ever meet Arobynn Hamel, the man would be lucky to walk away with just a black eye.

Though he supposed he would be meeting him, since he’d agreed to go to the shoot with her. He didn’t regret the decision, but he had the feeling that she would, and would eventually tell him to just leave her alone.

He wouldn’t blame her, after everything he’d said to her throughout the years.

But he’d worry about that when it came.

For now, though, it was time for drinks.

They were all meeting again at The Stag, and Rowan had headed over there directly after work, having to stay late to catch up on some editing that he’d missed out on doing because of the day spent with Aelin. He’d also begun editing some of the photos of her, and was feeling pretty confident about how the portfolio was coming together.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know this already, but she was incredibly photogenic.

Just then, she waltzed through the doors of the bar, ten minutes late like always, and plopped down gracefully on the barstool just opposite of him, winking when she caught him looking. He couldn’t help his faint blush.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” her best friend, Lysandra said, and Aelin laughed melodically, shrugging.

“Like I’ve said multiple times before, you’re lucky I showed up.” She shocked him by snatching his drink and taking a large sip from it. But it seemed they shocked the rest of the group by his lack of response.

Just a few days ago he would’ve snapped some hateful comment at her, but now he just raised his brows and leaned back in his chair.

“As long as you go get me another one when you finish it,” was all he said, and she smiled at him slyly.

“We’ll see,” Aelin said, and he could tell they were being stared at.

“What’s going on?” Fenrys finally said, and Rowan and Aelin both looked over at him. “Are we in an alternate universe?”

“I can’t be in a good mood?” Rowan joked, and the blonde man half scoffed half laughed.

“Good mood? Rowan?” He said, “those two do not go together.”

“Maybe just not around you,” Aelin pointed out, sipping on Rowan’s drink, and Fenrys looked very affronted, making Rowan chuckle.

“I’m so confused right now,” Aedion chimed in this time, looking back and forth between the pair. “Do you two have an inside joke?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Aelin said loftily, and her cousin narrowed his eyes at her. Rowan chuckled again, though his smile faded into a groan when his phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother checking it, knowing who it was.

Remelle.

Even after Aelin had so spectacularly demeaned her at the gala, the woman wouldn’t leave him alone. And he’d tried blocking her, but then she started contacting him through email, which his was publicly available for anyone in the agency, and he couldn't exactly block that since it was for work, so he’d unblocked her number so his inbox wouldn’t get spammed and make him miss an actually important email.

Rowan shut off his phone through his pocket, and found Aelin’s eyes on him when he looked back up, questioning what was wrong. He just waved her off, and she let it go. This was his annoying burden to bear, he wouldn’t try to stack his own emotional baggage on top of her already way too heavy load. If anything, he should be taking weight from her.

“Not in this friend group,” Aedion added, and Rowan couldn’t help but feel like their insistence against this happening meant that it was so ridiculous it would fall apart regardless. Fragile things were way too easily broken.

And he had the feeling like this tenuous friendship wouldn’t quite survive a fall.

------

Aelin didn’t know if she should be embarrassed or not by the revelation she’d placed on Rowan’s shoulders. But she couldn’t help but not be.

She’d never shared it with anyone else, still didn’t know whether she should or not, definitely didn’t know what to do about it, but he’d taken all of that chaos with ease, and comforted her while she fell apart.

She didn’t deserve it.

Maeve emphasized it when she walked into her office that morning, receiving a stern warning of You aren’t communicating your gratitude enough, to the Rifthold Fashion folks apparently. Aelin didn’t know what she was supposed to do about that.

She could lie and pretend to gush her heart out about being so “grateful” for the opportunity and run the risk of getting sick, or just stay silent. There really wasn’t much of a choice.

It was unfortunate too, because she knew most of the people at Rifthold Fashion couldn’t be like the boss was, and didn’t even know how toxic of an environment he created, but with him still there, all she could do was avoid the entire organization as much as possible.

But it was three days until she had to be heart in the heart of it.

She spun around in her chair, hooking her heel onto the desk in front of her to stop herself from spinning too far.

Her makeup was done sparsely, her hair smoothed back in a bun, ready to take a new headshot. She had to get a new one done every few years, especially at this stage of her life, as she did look quite a bit different than she did at eighteen.

But Rowan was currently in a shoot with someone else, so she had to wait her turn.

It was fine, she was scrolling through her social media on her phone, content to take a break from her constant go go go. Though she did need to workout when she got back home, her favorite pilates guru on youtube had a new video that was calling her name.

Aelin swung her foot like a pendulum, pulling herself back and forth slightly along the desk.

The walls were so shiny white they were basically mirrors, so she had a warning when she saw Remelle come up behind her.

“Remelle, darling,” Aelin said mockingly, turning the chair around to look at her. “What can I do for you?” She hadn’t seen the girl since the gala, nor did she really want to.

Remelle popped a hip, leaning into it slightly. “I just wanted to let you know that any day now, he’s going to get tired of you,” she said, and Aelin cocked a golden brow. “Just like the world is going to get tired of you, and realize there’s something better out there than a skanky bitch who slept her way to the top.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Report me to Maeve all you want,” Remelle continued, even though Aelin was sure her face was stoney, “at least I can fit in size zero jeans.”

And then she was walking away. Sauntering more like it, like she’d won something. Gods she was horrible, and Aelin barely even knew her, had only spoken to her twice.

But - she couldn’t deny that the girl had landed a few blows. The most pressing was the sleeping her way to the top rumor. Was that what people thought? Or was that just a random attack, hoping to hit the mark somewhere?

But the blow that ached to her core was the second remark. The one about her body. It shouldn’t bother her that much, but the worry was so ingrained in her that it did.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s voice called, the door to his little studio open, and she fixed her expression immediately, smiling at him as she headed in. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” she said, but it was hollow. Just like her.

-------

Rowan shouldn’t be so happy to see Aelin back in his apartment, but the sight of her cozying up on the couch made his heart warm in a way that was disconcertingly unfamiliar.

She’d bounded in the front door as soon as he’d opened it, and crashed onto the couch, only sitting up when he’d come and joined her, his laptop in hand.

He’d spent all day finishing up the edits for the pictures, and had picked out the ones he thought melded in the most organic way. He was excited to show her. So he’d invited her over for the evening. He had dinner cooking in the oven, music on, his laptop up and ready to go… almost like a date night. The thought of that made his cheeks flush incomprehensibly. It was work, purely work.

In fact, it was probably what he was proudest of in his entire career. With the slight filters he’d put on the photographs, and the way he arranged them, it was like a thousand moments captured in one single frame. He’d have to thank Elide for the amazing idea.

“Are these the pictures?” Aelin asked, and he looked over at her, furrowing his brows when he saw she was looking away.

“Yes,” he said, “I think the portfolio is done, they’re ready to submit but I wanted to show you first.”

“It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head. “I trust you. I don’t need to see them.”

She stood up off the couch, meandering over to the record player. He watched her retreat, catching her back profile as she stared at the vinyl spinning around, an old jazz favorite of his. Something completely obscure that he’d never thought they’d have in common, but apparently they did.

“What do you mean?” Rowan dared to question, turning slightly on the couch. He heard her sigh crackle from all the way across the room.

“I don’t look at any of the pictures I take,” she said, before turning quickly to face him, an entirely fake smile on her pink painted lips. “Why bother, you know?” And then she was bounding away again, not giving him time to address that surprising statement.

“Do you have that t-shirt still?” She asked, heading into his room. “I’m going to steal it from you.”

He stared after her, dumbfounded, as she disappeared into his room, emerging a few minutes later wearing nothing but his t-shirt, like she’d said. Of course, it completely covered her, but still.

“What are you cooking?” She suddenly asked, changing direction and heading into the kitchen. Rowan could barely keep up with her manic energy. Something was clearly wrong.

She hadn’t been okay earlier either, despite her attempts to dissuade him. She’d smiled in her headshot like she was supposed to, but it hadn’t shined through her eyes.

“Aelin…” he said, trailing off, and she finally paused, glancing over at him, her face unreadable.

“Would it make you happy if I looked at them?” She asked, and he blinked.

“Would it make you happy?” He countered, and she pursed her lips and didn’t answer. But without another word, she slowly made her way back to the couch, sighing shakily and painting a small smile on her face.

“Let me see what kinda magic you made,” she teased, and he carefully pulled the pictures back up, while still watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

He slowly scrolled through the selection of them he’d made, gaze darting back between the screen and her reaction.

He’d put a specific filter on them, blurring them a bit to make them all look older, almost retro. Like they hadn’t been taken with an expensive ass camera, and instead with an old canon polaroid.

There were some of them out at the park, her smiling face glowing in the sunlight, some of them wandering through downtown, her hair flicked back over her shoulder as she laughed at him. There was one of his favorites, when they were in the cafe. She was holding a cup of coffee and looking out the window, her profile highlighted by the soft amber lighting.

Then of them back in his apartment, sitting across from him as they played monopoly, holding the cash in front of her face like a fan.

Her entire essence of being was radiating from each and every picture, and it was magnetizing. Not because of him, not because of his camera, but because of her.

But her brows were furrowed, her face scrunched in what looked like anxious confusion as she looked at them. His stomach dropped.

“Who is that?” She said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it.

“What?” He asked, concern now filling his veins. Something wasn’t right.

Aelin just shook her head, pushing herself to a stand and retreating into the kitchen. “Your food is almost done,” she said, and Rowan set his laptop down carefully, following her over there.

Sure enough, the oven timer went off just as he got into the kitchen, and he grabbed the oven mit, taking out the pan of chicken and setting it on the stovetop.

“Smells good,” he said, looking over at her, but she just smiled weakly and went to sit down at the countertop. He took that as an offer to sit and eat, and he grabbed two plates, setting pieces of chicken on each and cutting them both, passing one to her.

Rowan grabbed a fork for her too, coming to sit in the seat next to her.

“Dig in,” he said, as she took the fork from him, and he speared a piece himself, nodding at the flavor. It turned out pretty good, not too dry, with the right amount of seasoning for the flavor palette he was going for.

In a few minutes he was already halfway through the plate, but when he glanced over, Aelin hadn’t eaten a single bite. She was just pushing pieces around with the fork, her mouth pinched.

“Come on,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Just try it.”

She glanced at him a little derisively, but picked up one tiny piece with her fork, considering for a moment before carefully putting it in her mouth. Rowan watched her expression as she chewed, satisfaction racing through him as her expression morphed into one of surprised delight.

“It’s good,” she nodded, grabbing another piece.

“Yeah?” He asked, and she nodded again, mouth full of chicken. He could only chuckle as she dug her way through the rest of the chicken, following suit on his own plate.

He watched her carefully as she ate, waiting until she was close to finishing before asking -

“Why don’t you look at any pictures of yourself?”

She paused, before swallowing the last piece of chicken and setting her fork down with a small clink.

“It doesn’t-” she sighed, looking up at nothing as she clearly fought with her words. “It just doesn’t - help.”

Rowan figured the words made sense to her, even if they didn’t to him, and he was waiting for her to say more, but her eyes dropped to her plate and her mouth stayed shut. A long moment passed, a million different expressions fluttering along her face, and the only noise was the faint jazz in the corner.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said quietly, standing up from the barstool quickly and heading toward the bathroom. She looked both in a rush, and looked like a ghost who’d walked this path a thousand times over a thousand centuries, and Rowan’s gaze followed her, frowning as the bathroom door closed with a quiet click.

He watched the closed door for a second before turning back to his chicken, chewing on another piece. But it turned to ash in his mouth, anxiety swirling in his gut the longer Aelin stayed in there.

He glanced back again, but nothing had changed.

A few minutes later, Rowan couldn’t fight the bad feeling inside of him anymore, and he stood up, heading toward the bathroom with the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. His heartbeat sped up, and with each step he debated if he wanted to keep going or if he wanted to retreat.

But something was telling him that something was wrong.

“Aelin?” He asked, rapping on the door with his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

No sound came through, and he waited one more minute, before slowly pushing on the handle, giving her time to protest before opening the door. But he stopped hesitating when he found her on her knees, sticking two fingers down her throat.

“Aelin!” He called out, kneeling down and reaching out for her. But it was too late as she retched into the toilet in front of her. The best he could do was hold her loose hair back, sighing heavily as she purged the chicken she’d just eaten.

All the pieces were coming together.

Why he never saw her eat; why if she did eat, she disappeared into the bathroom minutes later; why she exercised like her life depended on it; why she was so skinny. The fashion world was toxic, he knew that, but she’d always seemed so untouchable. So - so above it all.

Turns out, she was deep underwater, with no way to get to the surface.

Eventually she heaved for air, leaning over to rest her head against the wall. She looked back at him, her eyes watery as she wiped her mouth.

“I can’t do it, Rowan,” she breathed, shaking her head weakly. “I can’t.”

And his heart broke.

“Aelin,” he sighed, cupping her soft cheek with his hand. She just looked at him, as if afraid of what he’d say, but ready to defend her actions should he try to fight, so all he did was lean over and flush the toilet, before standing up and holding out a hand.

She eyed it warily, before grabbing it, letting him help her to a stand.

She stood there waiting as he grabbed a hand towel, turning on the faucet and getting the corner of it wet before turning to her. Slowly and carefully, he reached for her, holding her cheek with one hand as he used the other to dab at her mouth with the towel, cleaning up the last bit of throw up she’d missed.

Her eyes were on him, full of unreadable emotion as he set the towel back down. He reached under the counter for the bottle of mouthwash, setting it out for her to see.

“In case you want to get rid of the taste,” he teased gently, earning a breathy chuckle. He deemed that a success, and stepped aside as she stepped toward the sink, getting some mouthwash in the cup and gargling it before spitting it into the ceramic, washing it down with water from the faucet.

“Come on,” he said, nodding back toward the living room. “I’ll get you some water.”

Aelin nodded, following him as he left the bathroom. He let her curl up on the couch as he went into the kitchen, getting her a cup of water before heading back out to join her. She sipped on the water as he sat down next to her.

“Does anyone else know?” Rowan asked, and she shook her head.

“Maeve might,” she amended, before laughing sardonically, “though she encourages it. I was short of my weight loss goal for the month and got chewed out for it.”

Horror struck him.

“How much do you weigh?” He asked, having to know even if he didn’t want to. She tucked her face on her knees.

“110 pounds?” She said, almost like it was a question. His gut sank. “What?” She said, defensively. “It’s a perfectly normal weight.”

“If you’re about half a foot shorter than you are,” he insisted, massaging his temple with a hand. “When did it start?” He asked, and she laughed once, humorlessly again.

“Five years ago,” she said, “after my body stopped being mine alone. After it was ruined.”

Arobynn. In her mind, he’d ruined her. So why not ruin herself even more?

“And that’s why you won’t look at yourself?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“It sparks a lot of… behaviors I know aren’t good,” she admitted. “If I think I look bad in a picture I’ll spend another hour running on the treadmill, or I won’t eat for the rest of the day.” She sighed, burying her head in her knees. “I know it’s not healthy, but you have to understand, Rowan. The pressure. I screw up once, I don’t take care of my body for one day, and I end up losing everything that I’ve worked for for years.” Silence, before - “But everyone sees right through me anyway. And soon you will too.”

“This isn’t taking care of yourself,” he said, shaking his head. But she wasn’t looking at him. “Aelin.” She didn’t look at him. “Aelin.”

She finally looked over, her eyes nervous.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, putting enough insistence behind his voice to convince her. She blinked, a singular tear slipping down her raw cheeks. “I want you to know that. But most of all, I want you to be happy with who you are.”

“I don’t know how,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “I look in the mirror and I hate what looks back.”

Rowan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. He reached out and placed his hand on her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

They stayed there for a moment, sharing breaths and just sitting in the silence. He didn’t know how to help her, he didn’t know how to make her love herself. But maybe - just maybe - he could show her who she was through his eyes.

“Let me show you how stunning you are,” he breathed, his heart pounding as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. A soft sigh escaped her and he took the encouragement, trailing down to kiss the underside of her jaw.

“Rowan,” she breathed, but remained still, inviting him to continue, yet self conscious at the same time. That wouldn’t do.

His hand slid from her cheek down to her arm, loosely guiding her to lay back against the couch. Slowly, he leaned down, pressing another kiss to her neck, relishing in the breathy gasp she let out. But he didn’t stay there for long, traveling down her throat and nipping at her collarbone. And then he shifted even farther, a hand settling on her waist, lifting up her shirt slightly to kiss her hip bone.

Her shirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach, but instead of following the path it’d created, he moved to kneel off the couch. And then he reached for his camera, lying abandoned on the coffee table, holding it so Aelin could clearly see. Her head was turned to him, her golden hair spilling off the edge of the couch.

Kneeling in front of her, he lifted up the camera, seeing her face through the lens as he snapped a picture. The air between them was charged, his heart beating nearly out of his chest as he turned to catch a new angle, the edge of the t-shirt she was wearing, and the soft skin it revealed.

Then it was the lace edge of her underwear, and the curve of her hip to her thigh, then the smooth skin of her leg, propped up on the couch.

Slowly, keeping his eyes on her, he moved back over, and with one hand he slid her shirt up farther and caught a picture of just the shadow of her breasts revealed. She nodded, her heart visibly racing, and he pushed the shirt up farther, catching a picture of her bare chest.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, helping her take off the shirt completely. She sniffed, and he looked up to meet her gaze, seeing her soulful blue eyes glistening with emotion. He couldn’t resist taking another picture, lacing his free hand with one of hers to press above her head on the couch.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, and how could he deny her?

He set aside the camera, before leaning down over her, finally capturing her lips in a heated, slow kiss. She tasted like heaven, and everything sweet he’d ever had the pleasure of enjoying, though he knew nothing could ever live up to the pleasure of this.

The kiss deepened, and Aelin hooked one of her legs over his back, pulling him in closer. He slid his free hand up her stomach, grabbing onto and massaging one of her breasts, earning a gaspy moan into his mouth.

He brushed his thumb over the peak, and her breath hitched again. He took the opportunity to nudge at one of her lips with his tongue, which she immediately accepted, opening her mouth for him to enter.

Her hand was squeezing his tightly, her heel digging into his lower back, and he broke their kiss only momentarily to take his shirt off, wanting to feel her bare skin against his. And when he leaned back down, he returned to her neck, pressing alternating slow and fast kisses, sucking and biting and probably leaving marks, but she didn’t seem to care if the way she was moaning was any indication.

Taking the hand from her breast, he dragged it down her stomach, toying with the edge of her underwear, teasing the sensitive skin there.

“Can I?” He asked, his voice gravelly, and she nodded, arching into his hand. Rowan slowly hooked his fingers under the hem, pulling her underwear down her legs.

He let go of her hand, and moved his to slide up her legs slowly, parting her thighs. He slid his left hand up farther, using his thumb to part her folds. After taking a breath, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her clit. Her intake of breath stoked the fire in him, and after a moment he leaned down farther, licking a line up her folds.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, and that was the breaking point. He devoured her like he was parched and she was the sweetest oasis in a barren desert, using his fingers to coax even more delicious sounds from her.

It didn’t take long before she hit that peak, her body squeezing him tightly as she came.

She was panting as she came down, and with her hands she pulled him up to her, pulling him down to a desperate kiss. Eventually they broke, both of them breathing heavily.

“Fuck me, please,” she pleaded, and he groaned, reaching to hurriedly take off his pants. When was naked, he reached over to the drawer in his coffee table, retrieving a condom and sliding it on quickly.

“Fuck people on your couch often?” Aelin teased breathlessly, and he chuckled, nipping at her ear.

“Blame Fenrys for this. He thought I needed an emergency stash,” he explained, rolling his hips against hers and drawing out another gasp.

“Stop teasing,” she ordered him, and he chuckled, even as he lined up and nudged at her entrance. Her face screwed tightly as he pushed in slightly, and he waited until she nodded to push in all the way.

And then he started moving. And his world ended.

He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he’d certainly never had anyone that felt like her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he grabbed her hand, pressing it above her head like it’d been before.

His other hand tangled in the hair sprawled over the couch cushions, his eyes glued to her face as her brows furrowed deliciously, her eyes screwed tightly closed and her mouth open in a clear sign of pleasure.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her free hand clutching his shoulder tightly.

It didn’t take long for him to near his climax, but Aelin was approaching hers to so he held his off, reaching for his camera. And right as she came he snapped a picture of her face, release hitting him right after.

Both of them were covered in sweat as they came down, and Rowan set the camera back down to the side, before pulling out of her carefully. She pressed a few fluttering kisses to his chin and he caught her lips for one soft kiss before pulling back, traveling to the bathroom quickly to get rid of the condom.

He came back out to the living room, to find Aelin still sprawled out on the couch. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply. They both smiled at each other when he broke it.

“Come on,” he said, sliding on his boxers, and helping her back into his t-shirt. “Let me get you some food.”

He watched her reaction carefully, but she just smiled shyly. “Can you make me some green beans?”

Rowan blinked, processing the words before breaking out into a grin. “Yeah,” he laughed, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “I can.”

She was so… so beautiful. And not just her looks, everything about her. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was adrift in the ocean, and she was the life raft he needed to survive.

He hadn’t seen this coming, but he’d be damned to let it go now.

———

Finally, it was the day of the shoot. Aelin didn’t know which emotions were going to win out: nausea, because it was finally happening, or relief, because the sooner it happened the sooner she’d be done.

The building loomed before her, and she breathed shakily, clutching Rowan’s hand tightly.

They’d hardly separated in the few days since they’d been together that first time, even when Aelin had shoots and Rowan had work to do, they’d come back to his apartment as soon as possible. They never went to hers; his was just homier.

They hadn’t officially stated what they were to each other, and they certainly hadn’t told anyone else, but Aelin was immensely happy that he was there with her as she pushed open those doors that were seared into her mind.

Neither of them spoke as they walked across the lobby, entering the elevator to take it up to the fortieth floor. It was only when the elevator dinged, and the doors started to slide open, that Rowan looked at her and said -

“Don’t forget, I’m here with you,” he said, lifting their joint hands to kiss the back of hers. She just smiled tightly at him before stepping forward, and into hell.

Aelin breathed in shakily as she walked into the Rifthold Fashion headquarters, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She didn’t even bother speaking to the receptionist and asking where to go, having memorized the layout the last time it was here.

It essentially looked like the exact stereotypical image of a fashion magazine’s office, with caffeine crazed assistants bustling around carrying stacks of clothing, and everyone looking like they’re scared of getting yelled at every second of every day. It was fashionable, but everything was on the brink of implosion.

Beautiful chaos.

Her heart was racing, but she kept her chin up as she walked toward the photography studio, where she would be painted and dressed up like a little doll before being photographed for the cover of next month’s edition.

She wasn’t bitter, it was her job and she loved her job, but it was just a little difficult to be grateful about this opportunity after what happened last time.

“Ms. Galathynius,” a voice greeted, and her spine stiffened, every nerve in her body going silent. “How nice of you to join us today.”

And Arobynn Hamel slid into her gaze, smiling at her crookedly. Everything in her was telling her to run, but she steeled herself, lifting her chin and leveling a cold gaze at him.

“Mr. Hamel,” she acknowledged, hating the way her voice quivered slightly. He seemed to catch it, amusement sparking in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to Rowan, and to their interlocked hands.

“And who is this?” He asked, cocking an auburn brow.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Rowan answered, not giving any more information. Arobynn stuck out a hand to shake, but Rowan didn’t respond, keeping his free hand in his pocket instead. Aelin had to fight the urge to chuckle.

“If you’ll excuse us,” she said, pulling Rowan to start walking around the man. “I’m needed in the hair and makeup room.”

Once he was out of sight, Aelin let loose a shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked quietly, and she nodded tightly, before looking up at him.

“He’s not involved in the details and actual process of the shoot,” she explained, “so if I’m lucky, I won’t have to see him again.” She smiled tightly, ignoring the concerned look in his green eyes. “Let’s go.”

Aelin headed back further into the office space, going toward where the shoot was to be set up. She hadn’t been lying, she was needed in the hair and makeup room. That was the first stop. She knew this whole process like the back of her hand, sure the details varied from place to place, but overall, she knew what was expected of her, and she knew how to do it efficiently.

Now, she just did it with Rowan by her side.

------

The shoot went smoothly for the most part. Arobynn hadn’t made another appearance, and Aelin was able to do what she did best: model. The theme for the cover was Old Glamour, so she’d been dressed in a gown of dripping diamonds, her hair curled up in a low bun with dramatic eyeliner and dark red lipstick.

It was one of her favorite looks she’d ever been in, and the irony was not lost on her.

“Everytime I think you can’t possibly get any more beautiful, you prove me wrong,” Rowan said as she exited the shoot room, an adorable starstruck look on his face. Aelin laughed, letting him grab her hand and kiss it dramatically.

“What can I say,” she teased, “I’m just full of surprises.” He chuckled, sliding his arm around her waist. She turned to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing at the red stain it left. Rowan didn’t even try to wipe it away.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go get ready to go.”

The makeup artists had offered to help her strip the entire look too, but she’d turned them down, not needing their help. It was nice of them, but she didn’t need to take up more of their time. She’d be just fine doing it herself.

They headed back toward the dressing room, luckily a different one than the one she’d been in five years ago. It was just a room, but she really didn’t need the attached memories haunting her. She’d been lucky so far, she was hoping it would last.

“Can you grab me my bag?” Aelin asked Rowan as she sat down in the chair in front of the mirror, digging out her makeup remover wipes when he did. She took off the fake eyelashes first, before tackling the red lipstick, which proved to be a struggle.

The dress, while extravagant, was surprisingly comfortable, so she hadn’t bothered to take that off yet.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said to Rowan, looking over at him. It still didn’t feel real, their whole - relationship. If that was even what it was. “I really do appreciate it. I feel a lot calmer, then I would’ve if I’d come by myself.”

“Hey,” he said, from the chair next to hers. “You trusted me with what happened. It’s the least I can do to try and make you feel more comfortable with it.” His expression was sincere, and she paused in her makeup removing to lean her head against his shoulder.

And then his phone rang.

She lifted her head up as he reached for the device, his face paling at the number.

“It’s the Rifthold Institute,” he said, and she smiled excitedly. He’d submitted the portfolio two days ago, though she’d had to help him push the button because he couldn’t do it by himself. They really were stunning photos, even if she still wasn’t happy with how she looked. But that was eternal, that didn’t have anything to do with him.

“Are you going to answer it?” She asked, and he looked down at it again.

“My phone only has one bar in here,” he explained, “I won’t be able to hear them very well.”

“Go outside then,” she shooed him, “I’ll be fine.” He hesitated, but she insisted again and he sighed, following suit.

The door clicked shut behind him, right as he answered the call, and Aelin smiled contently as she turned back to the mirror, returning to her process of removing her makeup. He would get the job, she was sure of it. And yes, she’d miss seeing him around the office, but she wanted him to be happy, and he was not happy there.

She’d just removed her eyeliner, using up three wipes for that alone, when the door opened again. But she froze as she looked in the mirror and saw not a flash of silvery hair, but of red.

“Aelin, Aelin, Aelin,” he said, a sick smile on his face. “That was such a cold greeting earlier. What on earth did I do to deserve that?”

She set the wipe down, keeping her face firm. “Do I really need to answer that question?” Gods. Her hands were trying to shake, but she clenched them into fists. If he tried anything, she wouldn’t be complacent this time. She’d fight back.

Where was Rowan?

“Your boy toy isn’t coming back anytime soon,” Arobynn added, walking closer to her. She tensed. “He’s deep in conversation, far away from this room. Gives us time to talk.”

“I’m not interested in talking with you,” she said, pushing herself to a stand and moving toward the door. But he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. She needed to get out of here, now.

“Well too bad,” he said, a little more aggressively. “Because you’re going to.” He grabbed her arm, and panic raced through her veins. With his other hand he gripped her jaw, holding her face close to his. “It was fun last time, wasn’t it?” He asked with a contemptuous smile. “We can do it again.”

“Let. Me. Go.” She ordered, her voice shaking, gathering all the nerve left in her to make herself sound strong. She was strong. She wouldn’t let this happen again.

But he didn’t listen, instead he leaned in and forced his lips onto hers, even as she struggled to get away. Eventually she was able to get her legs to work and she kneed him straight in the groin, shoving him back when he bent over in pain.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she cursed, panting. Her hair had come loose from her bun, a strand hanging in front of her eyes.

Just then, the door opened again, and Rowan entered, his face angry as death.

“I think you better leave before I do something I won’t regret,” Rowan spit, his eyes dark. Arobynn stood up and straightened his jacket, his face tight with his own anger. But he didn’t dare say anything, just throwing her a contemptuous look and heading out of the dressing room. It was his company, he could try to pin the blame on Rowan, or shout that there was some disturbance, or try to get her in trouble, but luckily, he just left.

Aelin didn’t breathe until the door shut behind him, sagging against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked quietly, coming up to her side quickly. She sniffed and straightened, nodding as she rubbed at her face.

“Yes, I think so.” But she sighed heavily, reaching for the makeup wipe again. “He just had such confidence. That he could walk in here and do this with the door not even locked. It makes me wonder how many other girls have gone through the same thing.” Her heart broke at the thought. It’d happened so quickly, that time and this time. How many other people were forced to experience their life changing completely in a few minutes?

She wiped at her lips again, even if the lipstick was all removed. And she took out the pins in her hair, brushing it through before clipping it up. It was only then she reached for her change of clothes. Rowan looked like he was about to ask if she’d like him to leave, but she just shook her head.

“Are you going to report him?” Rowan asked, after she changed into her jeans and t-shirt. Aelin huffed a breath, rubbing at her forehead. It wasn’t nearly as bad as last time, but maybe she shouldn’t be so blasé about being the victim of assault yet again. Even if it was only attempted.

“I don’t know, Rowan,” she said honestly, but she didn’t look at him, choosing to hang up the dress instead. “He clearly doesn’t expect me to. Probably because I haven’t reported the first time in the five years since it happened.” She shook her head. “No one would believe me anyway.”

“I would,” he said, “I would vouch for you.”

She laughed humorlessly. “And you’d be claimed as biased like that.” She snapped for emphasis. He didn’t answer, and she shook her head again, packing everything up in her bag before picking it up. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

He nodded, and that was that.

——-

They ended up in the same cafe they’d taken pictures in, and Rowan watched Aelin carefully as she sipped on her coffee, trying really fucking hard to pretend she wasn’t affected.

She was looking out the window, drinking from her disgustingly sugary hazelnut monstrosity, but the hand on the table was shaking slightly and he reached out to hold it gently. She smiled at him thinly.

He’d tried to buy her a pastry to go along with the coffee, but she’d turned it down. She should eat it, he didn’t think she’d really eaten anything substantial that day, but he couldn’t force her to. She needed to see a professional for tackling such a deep-seated issue as this one, as much as he wanted to help he really couldn’t.

He would just have to trust that she would try to help herself.

“Oh,” she said, blinking, “how was the phone call? Did you get the job?”

“It was just to let me know it’s been narrowed down to two,” Rowan answered, trying not to show the nerves inside of him. “And to ask me about some formalities and contract details and stuff.” Aelin nodded her head in contemplation.

“So you’re getting it,” she said, with total faith, and his heart warmed.

“We’ll see,” he answered, shrugging. “I’ll know by the end of the week.” The other candidate was older, with more experience, but the man he’d talked to at the Institute had said they were also considering looking for some new blood, someone young to bring a new perspective into the place.

He was hoping that would mean him. But he would just have to wait and see.

Just then his phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath, pulling it out and seeing that annoyingly familiar number on the screen. He turned his notifications off and shoved his phone back in his pocket, but saw Aelin watching him curiously. He just waved her off.

“So…” Aelin said, a few minutes later. She smiled slyly. “Am I your girlfriend now?”

Rowan chuckled, trying to act casual even though the question sent his heart soaring. “Do you want to be?”

Aelin shrugged, acting blase. “I’m not sure. Let me get back to you in a day or two.” But she was grinning, and he rolled his eyes.

“Smart ass,” he said, and she laughed.

“You love it,” she accused, and he smiled gently.

“Yeah. I really do.”

------

A few days later, and they still hadn’t announced their relationship to the rest of the group. But Aelin was holding off, just because she wasn’t really sure how to explain how it happened. Oh, I came over to let him take pictures of me, and ended up spilling my trauma to him, to which he reacted surprisingly really well. And even went with me to confront my assaulter, and threatened to beat him up when he tried to assault me again. And the rest is history.

No, that wouldn’t go well at all.

And she knew the first person she would want to tell was Aedion. They’d barely talked in the last few weeks, as she was so wrapped up in everything else going on, and the guilt was so potent she could nearly taste it. But soon. They’d catch up soon.

She gathered her keys and slid her sunglasses as she headed out of her apartment, making sure to lock the door behind her. Then she was off, heading down the elevator and exiting the building out onto the street.

It was a Tuesday, late morning, so it wasn’t too busy. But she still had to fight through pedestrians as she made her way to the metro station. She normally hated taking the subway, but she wasn’t dolled up enough to make people recognize her, so she could float under the radar. And it was faster than a taxi in constant traffic like this.

She paid the toll and walked into the station, waiting for the next train like everyone else. She was going to get a massage at her favorite massage parlor, but it was a few miles away and she didn’t feel like walking that whole distance.

When the right train arrived, she stepped onto it like everyone else, enjoying getting to pretend to be normal for a little bit. She didn’t sit down, instead grabbing one of the handles from the ceiling, and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her notifications as the doors closed and the train started to move.

Her stomach dropped.

Request for Signature the subject line read, from an email she recognized too well.

She felt nauseous as she opened it, scrolling down to the attached file. There was no message anyway, no introduction to whatever this was. And pretty soon, she found out.

Non-Disclosure Agreement was at the top, and her heart thumped in her chest as she skimmed through the terms.

…not allowed to discuss or attempt to publicize any information regarding the untoward actions of Mr. Hamel on the dates of…

…will receive three million dollars as a result of returning this document with a completed signature…

…infringement of this document will result in a penalty of two times the prior amount listed…

And it ended with:

Please return signed within three business days.

Aelin was going to be sick. This was what he was trying to do? Tempt her into signing a document that she couldn’t ever reasonably break? Six million dollars would be the penalty; she was a well paid model, but that was a hefty amount to owe all at once.

And yet - if she signed it, it would be over.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing her forehead. Why was everything in her life so screwy? Was it her? Or was it the gods trying to fuck with her?

The metro stopped at the next station, and she glanced up at the signs, quickly identifying where she was. And though she had four more stops to go before she was supposed to get off, she let go of the handle and walked to the doors.

Change of plans.

------

Rowan was going to throw his phone off a cliff. Or if not a cliff, he was going to find a bridge somewhere and throw it into the river below. Just enough to make sure that no one would ever be able to contact him on it again.

Or mainly - one person.

Remelle LaFleur was quickly becoming the utter bane of his existence, and he had no real idea of how to get her out of it. He opened their text thread, seeing the long list of her texts, with only a few dotting his side.

> come on, let’s just get dinner

> I promise I’ll make it worth your while

< Remelle, I have a girlfriend now

> that whore Aelin Galathynius?

> you can do so much better than her

To that, he hadn’t replied, completely at a loss for words of what to even say to that. No, he couldn’t do better than her. But this was just getting completely out of hand.

He collapsed back on his couch, his head in his hands as he tried to sort out what the hell to do about this. She wasn’t going to leave him alone if he replied, or if he didn’t reply either. Maybe he needed to try and reason with her, to convince her that this was an utter dead end.

But would she listen over text? From what he could tell, she would just ignore the message and keep harassing him.

Should he tell Aelin what was going on? Maybe she could help. She was starting to notice anyway; she’d given him odd looks whenever Remelle texted him, and he’d had to pull out and silence his phone. And yet - did he want to put this on her plate? She already had so much going on. This wouldn’t do anything but add more stress.

He contemplated it as he opened his laptop, pulling up some headshots he was meant to be editing. He’d taken the day as a work from home day; Maeve didn’t really care as long as he came in for the shoots he needed to do, and got his edits done on time.

Hopefully, he would be done with this pretty soon. He was supposed to find out about the job within three days. And hopefully that phone call would be the end of this mindless work.

Maybe he could use that as a way to convince Remelle too.

But it would be better in person. That way he could make sure the message was actually getting to her. Not going straight into her trash.

< I’ll meet with you in person one time

< We need to talk

This needed to stop.

He shut off his phone then, turning back to his laptop, but a rapid knocking on the door grabbed his attention. Rowan furrowed his brows, hurrying to go over there and open it. Aelin was on the other side, and at first he was concerned that something was wrong, but she wasn’t crying, she was mad.

“Look at what this fucker is trying to do,” she spit, shoving her phone at him as she stepped inside. Rowan idly shut the door behind her as his eyes focused on the screen, and on the words Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Well shit.

“He’s trying to bribe me into shutting up,” she huffed, walking over and sitting down on the couch. “And I thought he couldn’t get any worse.” She shook her head and he came over there. “Three million dollars. That’s what he thinks I’m worth.”

Rowan sat in silence for a moment, figuring out how to best approach the subject.

“What are you thinking of doing?” He asked, carefully, and she glanced at him.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t want to take the deal, but if I do, then this is over. I can put it behind me, and he won’t bother me again.”

“But-” he said, knowing her too well.

“Then I’m stuck,” she added, chewing on her lip. “If I change my mind and ever want to speak out, I can’t.” She made a miserable noise and flopped over, her head in his lap. Rowan automatically started caressing her hair, combing through it gently.

“How much time do you have to decide?” He asked quietly, and she blinked up at him, her blue eyes full of emotion.

“Three days.”

“Same time for the job,” he said, huffing a humorless laugh. Rowan lifted up her phone again, reading through the contract with more detail. “Here,” he said after a moment, “text Elide on my phone. She should take a look at this.”

“Good idea,” Aelin said, reaching over to grab his phone off of the coffee table.

Rowan read over the exact terms of the agreement again, frowning when he saw just what she wouldn’t be allowed to talk about, and what she would be forced to pay if she did speak about it. Something about this was just wrong, he didn’t like the idea of her being trapped into it.

“Aelin, I-”

“What is this,” Aelin interrupted, her eyes glued to his phone. His heart stopped at her flat tone. Especially as she sat up, distancing herself from him. “Why did she say this? Why are you texting her?”

“Wha-”

“Perfect. You can come over to my place at eight,” she continued, “I’ll make you forget about that slut.” His face drained of all color as she realized what she was seeing. What she was reading.

“It’s not like that,” he tried to say, but he realized how that sounded. She finally looked up at him, her face filled with such pain his heart broke. “Aelin-”

She just shook her head, standing up quickly. “Don’t,” she said, her voice shuddering. “Don’t even bother.” she was still shaking her head, looking everywhere but at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised, doesn’t everyone end up leaving me anyway?” Her voice was getting tight with what sounded like unshed tears. “But I thought you would be the one to stay.”

“Aelin, I promise you-” he was getting desperate now. But that set her off.

“No,” she interrupted, spinning around to face him, nearly throwing his phone across the room. “I don’t want to hear it,” she spit, her face full of anger. “You… you fucker.” She gripped at her hair.

“Aelin,” he said, standing up. “I swear it’s not like that, just let me exp-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she said, interrupting him again, “I trusted you, with everything.” Her voice broke. “And this is what you give me in return?” A tear slipped down her face, and she quickly wiped it away. But he saw.

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I just can’t.” She wiped at her face again, grabbing her phone from the couch and heading toward the door. Rowan couldn’t do anything but watch as she opened it and turned back to face him. “I hope you get the job, I really do.” She smiled bitterly. “Because then I’ll never have to see your face again.”

And then she was gone.

-----

The dark cloud that had lifted slightly had descended again with a fury, and Aelin had trouble getting out of bed for the first time in years. Most of the time, she was able to motivate herself with work, and the knowledge of the self-hate that would hit her if she let herself slip for even a moment. But that morning, she wanted to ignore her alarm and just sink into the sheets so deeply she became a part of them, never having to see the daylight again.

She didn’t want to see the sun, not anymore.

She’d cried herself to sleep the night before, and once she did finally manage to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom, it was swollen eyes and splotchy cheeks that she met in the mirror.

“Gods,” she whispered under her breath, hanging her head low as she leaned against the counter. “Get yourself together.” She hit the marble once with her hand before huffing and standing up straight, staring at herself in the eyes.

She’d been through worse than this, she’d been to hell and back, she wouldn’t let Rowan ruin what little self worth she had left.

With a slow inhale, she turned on the faucet, getting her face wash ready to start her morning routine. She had shit to do today, she couldn’t get off schedule already.

Aelin washed her face quickly, and applied her toner, serums, moisturizer, and sunscreen, before brushing her hair and braiding it back. And without coffee, and without any sort of breakfast at all, she changed into her workout clothes, heading straight for the treadmill.

She’d sweat all her problems away.

But before she could, her doorbell rang. Aelin paused mid motion, and stepped away from the treadmill, furrowing her brows as she walked toward the door. Hesitantly she opened it, but relaxed when she saw Aedion outside in the hallway.

“Hey,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “What are you doing here so early?”

It was only 6 am.

“It was the only time I knew you’d be here,” her cousin said, his voice flat. Her smile faded. “You haven’t responded to my texts or anything, I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, I didn’t know if you-”

She cut him off with a hug, stopping him in his tracks. But he hugged her back, wrapping her up in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. A rebellious one slipped down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, and she sniffed to try and hold the rest back.

“Hey,” Aedion said, pulling back a little bit. “What’s wrong?”

Another tear slipped down her face, and she wiped it away, letting out a shaky laugh. “Where do you want me to start?” Aedion stepped inside the apartment, shutting the door, and she went to go sit down on the couch, hugging her knees. He sat down next to her.

“I think I need to go back to therapy,” she admitted quietly, not looking at him. But like she knew he wouldn’t, he didn’t laugh at her or make fun of her or even question the statement. He just supported her.

“Okay,” he said, and she looked over, seeing him nod. “The same place as last time? Dr. Towers?”

Aelin considered it for a second before saying yes. Dr. Towers was young for a therapist, which she liked when first going to see her all those years ago. She’d be a little older now obviously, but Aelin herself was older too. She’d always felt comfortable with her, and Dr. Towers had never been the reason Aelin stopped going.

So, it’d be a good place to start.

“Do you want me to set up an appointment?” Aedion asked, and Aelin chuckled, looking at him through watery eyes.

“I’m an adult, Aedion,” she said, smiling, “I can make my own appointments.” He narrowed his eyes at her jokingly.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” she said.

“No,” he said, leaning over to ruffle her hair, “but you’ll always be my baby cousin.” She pushed him away, but was laughing as she did it, her heart warm.

“I love you,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. His arm rested on her shoulders.

“Love you too, Ae,” he said, and after a minute, he said, “we’re getting drinks at The Stag again tonight, should we expect you?”

“No,” she said, nearly automatically, sitting up and shaking her head. “I can’t tonight, I’m busy.” But he must’ve seen something on her face because he didn’t buy the excuse this time.

“Is this about Rowan?” Aedion asked, and she looked at him, seeing understanding in his eyes. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but do I need to beat him up?”

She was tempted to say yes, but she only chuckled humorlessly and shook her head. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Just another disappointment.”

“Well,” her cousin said, “I’m here to talk if you ever need to.”

“I know you are,” she said, smiling tightly, “and I appreciate it. I just need some time.”

Time, and maybe a miracle.

------

Rowan was the biggest idiot to ever walk the earth. He’d known that the minute she walked out the door, and it only sunk in more as the sun went down and came back up again.

He wished Aelin had let him explain, but he didn’t blame her for not. He should’ve spoken about it to her like a reasonable person instead of trying to decide which things she needed to know or not.

After Aelin had left, he’d finally done what he should’ve done originally and told off Remelle for continuing to harass him, before blocking her number and her email. It didn’t fucking matter anyway, he’d decided that even if he didn’t get the job, he was going to quit anyway.

He couldn’t stay there, not anymore.

And though part of him longed to reach out to Aelin, to try and appeal to her, he thought it best to give her space for a little bit, knowing how she was feeling. Hovering would do absolutely nothing.

But he couldn’t let her go forever. He couldn’t bear it.

So what could he do to earn her forgiveness?

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. This was too fucking much. Rowan took a sip of his coffee, hoping that the caffeine would spark his inspiration. The sun was barely up, but he’d never even made it to sleep the night before.

But as he was reaching to take another sip, his phone rang. He paused, his heart racing as he set the cup back down, reaching for the device.

It was the Institute.

He couldn’t breathe as he answered it, barely croaking out a “yes?”

“Mr. Whitethorn?” The voice on the other end spoke, and he said yes again. “Sorry for the early hour, but we’re thrilled to tell you that you’ve been selected for the position.”

And instead of racing, his heart stopped completely. The HR rep on the phone started telling him more information about the job, and when he’d have to come in to do entry paperwork and the likes, but all Rowan could think about was Aelin, and how he wished he could share this with her.

And in that moment, he realized something so important, and yet so devastating he could hardly function. He loved her. But she was gone.

But it was then, as the news about the job finally sunk in, that an idea struck him. An idea that just might work.

------

Dr. Towers’ office looked exactly the same as it had eight years ago. And Aelin felt strangely young as she sat on the couch across from the woman, waiting to start their session. She’d managed to get a next day appointment, which she was grateful for, there was a lot she needed to talk about.

“May I ask you what brought you in today, Aelin?” Dr. Towers asked, smiling at her warmly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you last.”

There were more pressing issues, Aelin knew. There was Arobynn, and the NDA, and the eating issue, the exercise issue, the self esteem issue, so much wrong with her. But the first thing that came to her mind was Rowan.

“How does one move on from someone they think they’re in love with, when they broke your heart and you still don’t understand why?” She asked, all in a rush, shocking the doctor.

“Well,” Dr. Towers said, blinking, “it generally isn’t a very quick process, but closure tends to help.” She hummed a bit, and Aelin deflated. “You said you don’t understand why?” And Aelin shook her head.

“No,” she said, “but he kept trying to explain, or that’s what he said. I didn’t want to hear excuses.” Dr. Towers nodded slowly.

“Now,” she said, gesturing with a hand, “I don’t know the exact situation, so you can feel free to disregard my advice. But maybe you could hear him out?” Aelin frowned. “And if you don’t like what he has to say, you have my permission to fully cut him out of your life. But if you’re willing, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I guess,” Aelin muttered, considering the idea. Rowan did seem really desperate to get his words out. But the text; she didn’t think she’d be able to forget how crushed she’d been in that moment. And from Remelle of all people. She barely knew the girl, but every time they’d interacted, it’d been an attempt to tear Aelin down.

“Just think about it,” Dr. Towers said, before leaning back in her armchair. “Now, I know that’s not the only reason you’re here today, is it?”

A heavy weight settled in Aelin’s stomach and she shook her head slowly.

“There’s a lot going on,” she said quietly, fighting the urge to shut down and shut up. “A lot that I don’t know what to do about.”

“I understand,” Dr. Towers said, smiling gently. “It takes a lot of strength to even make it to this step, Aelin. I want you to understand that.” Aelin glanced up at her. “You’ve already done the hard part, asking for help.” She relaxed slightly. “Now I’m just here to give it to you.”

Aelin’s lips curled up slightly on the corners, a ghost of a smile on her face as a tiny sprig of hope grew in her heart.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d be okay. Even without Rowan.

But her heart still ached for him, and she knew the ache would last for a long time.

------

Aelin got the note a few hours after getting home from Dr. Towers’ office, finding it slipped under her door after returning from the bathroom.

Meet me at the park at 7. Please.

It wasn’t signed, but it was clear who it was from. She supposed Rowan had resorted to handwritten notes, given she’d blocked his number, and his work email address had conspicuously disappeared. A bit of joy went through her when she’d first discovered that, though she tried to temper it, but though he’d betrayed her, it wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped to get away from the feelings she had for him.

Which was why, taking Dr. Towers’ advice, she decided to go to the park.

It wasn’t an easy decision, and a large part of her brain told her to fuck him and stay at her apartment, but a smaller and infinitely more powerful part of her brain told her to go. To at least hear him out. She’d trusted him before, maybe she needed to trust him again.

Aelin threw on a light sundress, and tied her hair up with a clip, putting on a pair of sandals before she left her apartment, nerves racing through her. It wasn’t too long of a walk to get to the park, but every step felt like a mile as she both anticipated and feared this interaction.

It’d only been a few days since they’d last seen each other, but it felt like an eternity. She hated him, she missed him, she… loved him. She loved him.

She’d hinted at it to her therapist, but it was only now she was admitting it to herself. Aelin Galathynius loved Rowan Whitethorn, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

When the trees first came into her sight, she slowed down, inhaling shakily as she considered if she really wanted to do this. But the answer was yes, it would always be yes, so she exhaled and kept going, not giving herself another moment to doubt.

She came up on their tree pretty quickly, and stopped, looking around in amazement at what he’d done. He’d printed out every single photo he’d taken of her, both the ones from the photoshoot and others he’d taken various days after, when they were still blissfully happy. And he’d strung up lights too, setting the area aglow in the fading evening light.

“Rowan,” she whispered, turning over her shoulder to find him standing there, a bouquet of kingsflame in his hands.

“Aelin,” he said, just as gently, with so much emotion in his eyes.

“This is beautiful,” she had to admit, her voice tight.

“I know you don’t like pictures of yourself,” he said, stepping closer. “I know it still brings you pain, but I wanted to show you that all of these pictures show the happiest moments of my life.” He took another step toward her, and her eyes filled with tears. “Every single one of these pictures show a time when I was at peace, when I was filled with joy, when I was content, because I was with you.”

She sniffed, looking up to look at him in the eyes as he stepped closer.

“I would never jeopardize that for anything,” his voice shuddered, his head shaking. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, and I would never throw that away.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here. You can read all of the texts between me and Remelle. She was harassing me, even after the gala, and I couldn’t stop her, no matter how much I tried.” She looked at him, seeing how sincere his face was. “I was going to meet with her in person to finally try and convince her that nothing would ever happen, but I made a mistake in not telling you. I admit that. I would never be involved with someone like her. And I would never betray you like that.” His eyes were full of pain. “Please believe me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need your phone,” she said, her throat tight. He looked devastated for a second, so she added to her statement quickly, smiling gently. “Because I believe you.”

It took a second to process, but then pure elation filled his face.

“You do?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe it. And she nodded, lifting a hand to cup his cheek.

“I do,” she repeated, warmth filling her as he leaned in to kiss her deeply, whispering against her lips -

“I love you.”

She pulled back, shocked, but he didn’t look like he regretted saying it, so she laughed, tears running down her face as she said it back. “I love you too.”

He kissed her again, his hands sliding around her back. And then he was lifting her and spinning her, making her laugh. When he finally set her down, they rested their foreheads together, just breathing each other in.

“I’m starting therapy again,” she admitted, after a minute or two, and his handsome face curled into a soft smile.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, his thumb caressing her lower back where his hands rested on her waist. Warmth spread through her at the simple words. Did he know how much they meant to her?

“And I’m not going to sign the NDA,” she said as well, “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I’m not going to give in like that. I’m not going to silence myself.” She glanced up into his green eyes, still so close to hers. “I’m guessing you got the job?” She asked, her lips curling into a grin. “Your email disappeared.”

“I did,” he admitted, his face lit up with joy, and she couldn’t help but kiss him again.

“I love you,” she said again, not able to stop herself. “And I’m so proud of you too.”

Rowan kissed her forehead, before spinning her around and wrapping her in a hug from behind, pressing quick kisses on her neck. She hummed in satisfaction, hugging his arms. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier than she was in this moment.

“We’re going to have to tell everyone,” she said, smiling at the thought. She craned her head to look up at him. “We’re going to be teased relentlessly.” Rowan just shrugged.

“I can deal with even Fenrys’ ridiculous comments,” he said, “as long as we’re together.”

“How long will that be?” She asked teasingly, and he grinned.

“I was hoping forever,” he said, and her smile turned shy.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Yeah?” He asked, and she nodded. “Good. Because I have no plans on leaving anytime soon.”

She chuckled. “Leave me? Or leave the park? Because I’m getting a little cold.”

“Smart ass,” he said, flicking her nose. She laughed again, cuddling back into him.

“Can we go back to your apartment though?” She asked, spinning around to face him. “I’m in the mood for some green beans. And something else,” she added slyly, fluttering her lashes.

“You’re insatiable,” he teased, smiling, “but yes we can. We can go anywhere you’d like, as long as we’re together.” Together. It was such a simple word, but to her it meant everything. She was no longer alone, facing the shit storm of the world alone. She had him by her side, and that would always be enough.

<><><><><>

taglist:

@shyvioletcat

@courtofjurdan

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@westofmoon

@mariamuses

@cretaceous-therapod

@rowaelinrambling

@foughtconquered

@swankii-art-teacher

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@sailorsassley

@claralady

@gracie-rosee

@theinfernalbookworm

@larisssss

@peppermint-fae

@charlizeed

@llyncooljones

@justreadertings

@backtobl4ck

@wordsafterhours

@story-scribbler

@mybloodrunsblue

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@dealfea

@whoever-you-choose-to-love

@tomtenadia

@house-of-galathynius

@1islessthan3books

@fangirlprincess09

@superspiritfestival

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@rowanaelinn

@gwynethhberdara

@baxian-argos

@thewayshedreamed

@aelinchocolatelover

@emilyoftheshadows

@rhysands-whore

@gigglinggummybears

@shadowwolf777

@fireheart-violet

@firestarsandseneschals

@wishfulimaginings

@thegreyj

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@rhysandswingspan

@poisonous00

#rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowaelin au #throne of glass au #rowan x aelin

194 notes · View notes

thegreyj · 2 years

Text

Stirring the pot

Rowaelin month day 11: Work rivals @rowaelinscourt

Stirring the pot

It all had started, when celebrity chef Rowan Whitethorn had joined the kitchen staff as a sous chef. Aelin had been running the kitchen for years under immense pressure, coming up with the most incredible menus for each day, and never even thinking someone might come in and change things up. Here change was, in the form of a gorgeous arrogant bastard. The restaurant owner Maeve wanted a change of pace, only the gods knowing why. Aelin was pissed about the decision, but ever the professional, as the head chef she did her best to continue working the kitchen, creating magnificent dishes and leading the kitchen with her iron grip.

Honestly, working with Rowan Whitethorn of all people wouldn’t be a bad thing, if it weren’t for the fact that he was arrogant and thought he walked on water. Until one of her chefs had changed the recipe for her special lemon sauce, that was supposed to go with the cod she’d specifically gotten that day for the baked lemon garlic cod that was going to be the special of the day. Apparently, chef Whitethorn had an idea to change her menu a bit, forgetting to mention it to Aelin. At that point, she prompty walked out of the kitchen to Maeve’s office, where she was informed that Rowan Whitethorn brings a certain reputation to the restaurant and should have his signature dishes made more often.

It was obvious Aelin was perpetually mad. She had made the kitchen to what it currently was, her skills and dishes bringing the level of the restaurant higher, making it a very popular place in the city. And Rowan Whitethorn with his perfect looks and amazing skills coming in ruining her creation did not belong in her daily plans.

After that one recipe change, it was expected for Rowan to choose one dish for every menu from his signature recipes – usually they just happened to be a new variation of one of Aelin’s special dishes, or somehow unfitting the entire menu, creating more work for Aelin to change things up again. Day after day it was the same. Every single time Aelin tried to talk about it to Maeve, her complaints were promptly swept under the carpet.

Aelin felt her position as the head chef wasn’t respected. The staff was supposed to work under her instructions, but celebrity chef Rowan somehow had come sweeping in as the second-in-command and her honest work seemed to be for nothing. It was supposed to be an honor to work with her, as Aelin was a very well-known skilled chef in the restaurant industry.

She felt threatened. Did Maeve bring Rowan in so it would be easier to kick her out? Had she done something to make this happen?

One day she had reached her breaking point. She had been working on her favorite dessert, a layered chocolate mousse, when she found out that her specially ordered chocolate truffles were gone – one of the chefs had taken them per Rowan’s orders and now they were a part of a chocolate truffle raspberry cheesecake. And definitely not on Aelin’s menu that day. She had had enough.

Feeling disrespected and down, she didn’t even finish her mousse. What was the point, as it was missing one of the key components. Seeing Rowan laughing with her kitchen staff, she saw red. And in the blink of an eye her unfinished mousse was sliding down Rowan Whitethorn’s perfect silver hair.

The man looked shocked, slowly turning around to look at the perpetrator. His gorgeous green eyes focusing on none other than Aelin. He couldn’t have anticipated Aelin to do something so childish, but there it was.

“What?” he couldn’t even form a coherent question; he was genuinely stunned.

“I’ve had enough! My chocolate truffles! I had specially ordered them for my signature layered mousse, but do you respect my menus? NO! I’ve given you leeway, changed my menus so many times and given you a chance to add your dishes to the menu, but for some reason you just love to test my patience!” Aelin stomped her foot like an angry toddler before swiftly exiting the kitchen and going outside.

After cooling down for a while, she was feeling a bit embarrassed of her outburst. She knew she had trained the kitchen staff to work well even without her present at all times, but still she usually preferred to make sure everything was going perfectly. Now, however, she was sitting outside with her back against the wall, pondering if her life truly made her happy. Maybe it was time to change things up a bit. Maybe she could open the restaurant she had always dreamt of opening, instead of running someone else’s business.

The door opened, and someone joined Aelin on the ground. She didn’t raise her gaze, she was so lost in her thoughts. A lone tear slipped down her cheek.

“Look I’m sorry about the truffles. I didn’t realise they were yours, one of the chefs just brought them to me after I mentioned I’d like to make my truffle berry cheesecake,” Rowan began. It was the first time Aelin heard him speak with a gentle voice. Usually his tone exuded a bit of arrogance, which of course just added to Aelin’s irritation.

“The truffles were just the tip of the iceberg, Mr Whitethorn,” Aelin stated coolly.

“Rowan, please. And what do you mean?” His brows scrunched up in confusion.

“Like you don’t know what you’ve been doing! Coming up with dishes that don’t fit my menus, creating new variations of MY dishes. The disrespect, no one listens to my instructions anymore! What am I, air? I thought it was supposed to be my kitchen but I’ve been swept under the carpet. Maybe Maeve truly is letting me go,” she said with a dejected voice.

“What? I thought- this is not- I don’t know what to say, I thought you knew?” Rowan’s words shocked Aelin. Wait, he knew she was going to be fired? And he played with her in her kitchen like that all these weeks? Well, apparently not her kitchen anymore.

The anger came back doubled, making Aelin stand up.

“YOU KNEW? You knew I was going to be fired and you just toyed with me, disregarded my decisions and made me a laughingstock as a head chef?” Aelin yelled. Rowan had gotten up too and looked at Aelin with wide eyes.

“Fired? What? NO! Maeve is about to step away from the business entirely and is looking to hand the ownership over,” he stated.

“So, you’re here to essentially become my boss? So much better, wow,” the words coming out her mouth were dripping in sarcasm.

“You don’t understand, it’s not me she wants to take over! Well, in a way it is. She wants me to take your position,” Rowan tried to explain, but Aelin was just getting madder at him. She was now up in his face, almost seething.

“You mean to tell me that my boss is about to leave the business, and I’m losing my position? I get it, everyone else knew, that’s why the blatant disrespect at all times-,“ she began before being interrupted.

“Maeve wants you to take over the business side, and me as the head chef. She wanted me to bring in some of my dished in to make the transfer smoother, and as for the variations of your dishes, well… I’ve always admired you as a chef and thought you were a culinary genius. I honestly did not realise you’d think of it as disrespect, I just wanted to show off a little for you – kind of as a sign of respect, really. I’m so sorry, and I won’t do it again, I promise. It’s just… Well, I- I’ve really enjoyed working with you,” Rowan explained.

Aelin stared at him in shock, with her mouth open and eyes blinking. No other reaction.

“Say something, please,” Rowan pleaded.

“And here I was ready to hand in my resignation,” Aelin said with the shock still in her voice. Rowan chuckled.

“Please don’t. Your kitchen is the best one I’ve worked at, and I’ve worked at quite a few. You’re a genius when it comes to food, and I love to watch you work. The way your eyebrows slightly scrunch up when you focus on something, the small smile that graces your lips when you taste something you like. Trust me, there is no disrespect from my side, only admiration,” he smiled at her. Aelin once again looked absolutely stunned. Something fluttered in her stomach. He’d noticed such tiny details about her – when was he looking at her? He was always surrounded by his fan club in the kitchen.

“Well- I- I suppose-,” Aelin blabbered as she realised just how close they were standing. She swallowed. She’d have to just lean in a bit and they’d- no. She shouldn’t think like that. She was a professional.

Aelin was about to take a step back when she felt arms surround her. Rowan was looking deep into her eyes and suddenly the hatred she had felt was forgotten, leaving only the tension between them. Tension that had been there since day one, but Aelin had thought it was simply anger.

He really has beautiful eyes, Aelin thought just a moment before she felt his lips on hers. A brief kiss that left her wanting more, but also her mind jumbled; she couldn’t have imagined that this morning she would throw mousse on him, and the next moment be kissing him. The world really worked in mysterious ways.

She thought they should be getting back to the kitchen, but as she looked at Rowan who was staring at her with those perfect green eyes of his showing how much he admired her… She supposed one more kiss couldn’t hurt.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

84 notes · View notes

mariaofdoranelle · 2 years

Text

Golden Tattoo — Part 3

Rowaelin Month 2022 — Day 5: A Trip to the Hospital

Part 1 | Part 2

In my defense I had a painful kind of fun while writing this. Like yeah I was having fun but I felt slightly guilty about it.

One other thing I just reached 100 followers! 101 to be exact but thank you for bearing with me and actually (I think) enjoying it!! You’re the best ❤️

Warnings: language, anxiety, a trip to the hospital (obviously) and some very light smut

Word count: 3,1k

_____˞̶ō͡≡o_________[::+::]__

Rowan was peacefully sleeping by Aelin’s side, and it would be so easy to kill him on his sleep now. Or maybe castrate him and his nausea-inducing spawn.

After waking up from the weirdest dream of her life—something about holding hands with Rowan to burn demons—, Aelin couldn’t go back to sleep because of the stomach churning that settled in. At fucking 4am. Morning sickness went way too far this time.

Not even the smuttiest book Aelin could find was distracting her from the queasiness, so when her sleepy best friend held her a little too tight, she knew it was time to run to the bathroom.

Sat on the floor while gripping the toilet’s edge, Aelin had to resort to chastise her unborn child.

“Shortcake, stop,” she softly commanded while caressing her lower belly. Shortcake was this week’s nickname for the baby because the pregnancy app said the fetus was as big as a strawberry now. Which left Aelin craving for strawberry shortcake the whole day.

Apparently, her baby couldn’t hear her yet, because in a few seconds Aelin was puking her guts out in the toilet. After taking a few deep breaths, her mothering became a plea.

“Shortcake, there’s no need to be unreasonable now—“

“Was it shortcake?”

“What?” Aelin’s heartbeat started racing, and the way she jerked to look at Rowan only worsened the sensation she was trying to get rid of. He only had time to rush and grip her hair before she spilled her guts on the toilet again.

“The reason you’re not feeling well. What it shortcake?”

Still tense, she answered, “Sure.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie, but it made her feel even worse.

She felt dirtier each lie she blurted, but Aelin didn’t feel ready to see Rowan’s reaction when she told him she was pregnant with his baby. She was sure he wouldn’t leave her and Shortcake completely stranded because Aelin knew Rowan cared about her. As a friend. But would he want to be involved in the kid’s life? How deeply would that affect their friendship’s dynamic? Would they ever be best friends, or even close again? She knew it was selfish. She knew he deserved to know. But each time the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, Aelin froze and her heartbeat started racing and the nausea came back and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it.

Running a hand through her hair and feeling vomit in it was the last straw for Aelin. She took a deep breath, but it did nothing to stop the insistent tears that were waiting on the back of her eyes. One tear became a few, which brought a hiccup and now she was fully sobbing on the bathroom floor.

Rowan was soothing her and pressing gentle kisses on the clean side of her head, which only made her bawl more. He cleaned the most disgusting part of the vomit on her hair with toilet paper, then took her clothes off and carried her to the bathtub. Aelin didn’t notice he had prepared a bath, but she was so glad. That didn’t help with the weight on her chest, though. Her lips started trembling, but she pressed the together and let him rinse her hair in the bathtub.

She could tell him now, Aelin mused. Just blurt it out that she’s pregnant and end this right away. But if everything went to shit, she didn’t want to face him naked and looking like a crying mess.

Rowan was soaping her hair with her favorite lavender product, but as soothing as his touch was, she couldn’t relax completely. At least she wasn’t crying anymore, but the guilt she’d been feeling for five days now wouldn’t go away until she told him. Because he deserved to know. Because she wanted him to know. A part of her died each time she lied to her worrywart Buzzard. Aelin loved him, and now she’d take any chance of having something more than a friendship with benefits.

While Rowan wrapped a towel around her body and made sure she was feeling better, she made the decision. Aelin was telling him she was pregnant tonight, and she’d ask him to stay.

~~~~

Aelin had no idea where the morning sickness ended and the anxiety began, but she felt like shit the whole day. Her stomach decided to revolt against her, and she felt too tired to fight back, only eating a salad for lunch and leaving it at that.

Besides, the back to back Zoom meetings didn’t help either. One of the reasons she chose to work from home was to avoid interactions with people she disliked, but sometimes it was hard to escape them. If dealing with obnoxious clients while trying to ignore her queasy stomach wasn’t bad enough, Aelin was also trying to turn off her thoughts about Rowan. As if she could do such a thing.

She wondered about the million possible scenarios so much it gave her a headache, and the pacing around the house she did after work was probably the cause of the increasing dizziness she felt.

Finally, the front door opened and a frazzled-looking Buzzard came in.

“How was work?”

“Shit.” Rowan places his work bag on a chair, sent her a weak smile and beelined her way. Cradling Aelin’s face, he gave her a long kiss. “I’ve had the worst day at work, and the only thing that got me through it was thinking about you.”

Aelin bit her lip. “You need a new job.”

He pressed their bodies together, whispering in her ear, “I need you.”

And then Rowan kissed her like it’d give him a new job. Like it’d make his boss quit. The kiss made her head spin, but not in a good way. Keeping in mind that her task was to act naturally until the time for the reveal, Aelin mentioned for him to pick her up, which he promptly did. With Rowan fighting gravity on behalf of her weak limbs and holding her against a wall, it was much easier to do her part.

Their frequency wasn’t the same since Aelin started getting sick every day, so she’d gladly jump in his arms before changing their relationship forever. She’d just have to make it out alive. Literally.

Every sharp turn her head did to follow Rowan’s lead made her feel like someone was using a hammer to spin her head, but the friction his bulge was making against her ridden-up dress told her to stay right where she was.

He took her to the bathroom, and Aelin decided to sit on the edge of the tub while he prepared the bath. Standing up was not an option. He soon kneeled in front of her, the moment shifting into something more tender.

“Are you alright?” He asked while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and caressing her cheeks.

Aelin just gave a faint smile and pulled him closer. His face was on her neck, and now she could feel and see the steam coming from the bathtub. Why would he run a bath so hot? Aelin started feeling weaker, but she still undid the ties in her wrap dress. Rowan began to play with her now bare breast with one hand, and she was glad he was still supporting her back with the other.

And then she noticed some dark spots in her vision. Aelin’s hands were already on his shoulders, but they were too weak to make him notice her frail nudges.

“Ro?”

He hummed between bites on her collarbones.

“Ro, I’m not—“

~~~~

Why was everything so loud?

Horns. There were so many horns. And her body was moving so much it made her dizzy. Aelin cracked an eye open, but immediately regretted it. There were just a bunch of red and yellow spots that moved so fast. Definitely not a groggy girl environment. Definitely not her bathroom.

She heard some cursing, and slowly moved her head towards the source of the sound. Rowan was behind the steering wheel, cursing under his breath and pressing the car horn, making that dreadful sound again.

“Buzzard... buzzing... Why’re you buzzing?”

He let out a shaky breath. “How’re you feeling?”

There was no point in lying now. “Shitty,” Aelin answered. She closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable in her seat. “I just need a nap.”

“No. Keep talking to me.” His voice was rough in a way he never used with her.

“Did I hit my head?” Aelin hoped it didn’t sound snarky. She was genuinely confused.

“No.”

“Then why can’t I nap... a minute nap?”

“I. Don’t. Know. You’ve been sick for Mala knows how long and won’t tell me what’s going on. I have no idea what to do, so we’re going to the hospital,” he rasped in a carefully controlled tone.

Oh, fuck. She had been sick that long because she was pregnant. And still not totally used with this fact. Her mind wasn’t as hazy as before, she needed to focus. Aelin had passed out. She didn’t know for how long, but she was heading to the hospital now. She’d just ask for someone to check on the baby real quick and then tell Rowan back home. There was no place for delaying this now.

But first she needed to make sure Rowan wouldn’t find out from a doctor. She wanted to tell him herself, preferably when he wasn’t maniacally driving.

“I need privacy.”

“What?”

“In the hospital.”

“I’m not following.”

Aelin sighed. Scrambling her mind for a proper answer, she remembered she’d probably see a OBGYN. And they were all about looking at the vaginas. “What if the doctor asks to see my lady bits?” she whined, her voice slurred.

“Then they’ll examine it.”

“And you’ll wait outside?”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he barked. Aelin froze on her seat, it was so rare for her to see Rowan this upset. But then he sighed. “I’m sorry.” A beat. “I can turn around if you want, but please don’t make me wait outside.” The traffic light turned red, and he took it as a cue to gently stroke the exposed part of her thigh. “You’re my gi—best friend. I’m freaking out, okay? You can kick me out if you want, but don’t leave me hanging in a waiting room. Please.”

The traffic light turned green before Aelin could think of a proper answer, and it was better this way. She kept her gaze away and thought of something to do that would give her time to tell Rowan the truth without hurting him further. Aelin would work something out, she always did.

The car soon stopped at the ER entrance.

“I’ll get a wheelchair for you and park the car. Wait here.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. She was feeling better than when she woke up, there was no need for a wheelchair. Opening the door by herself, she got out of the car showing the greatest amount of strength she could. Feeling dizzy, Aelin gripped the door, but at least she was standing.

Oh, not the dark spots again.

~~~~

Aelin’s head was pounding, and neither the constant chatter around her nor the massive white light were helping. Just to further her point, someone screamed that she was awake when Aelin’s eyes started opening, and it hurt so much she would fully cringe if she had the strength to.

The lady in scrubs closest to her face looked at a watch and sighed. “About time.”

Closing her eyes again, she tried to make sense of things. Aelin was probably at the hospital. She didn’t know for how long, but she could feel herself being prodded and probed by more than one person. Her whole body ached, and Aelin had no idea if she fell and hurt her head.

Or her stomach. She needed someone to check on Shortcake.

It didn’t take much to reach the lady’s scrubs and gently tug at it, getting her attention.

“I’m pregnant,” Aelin croaked.

The woman inched closer to her. “You’re pregnant?” she asked in a soft tone. When Aelin nodded in confirmation, she immediately turned to the rest of the room and shouted, “She’s pregnant!”

“No, she’s not,” a voice she knew all too well blurted.

Turning her head to the side, she could finally see Rowan. He had been so quiet she didn’t notice his presence in the room. But there he was. Waiting, trusting the hospital staff to fix whatever she had. Completely still, he was just blinking in her direction with an open mouth, trying to make sense of what he heard.

Aelin knew he was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t. Feeling his gaze burn her skin and keep a tight grip on her heart, she kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. Of all the worst case scenarios she speculated during this week from hell, a silent confirmation in the ER never crossed her mind because Rowan deserved so much better than this.

After asking several questions, the physician came to a conclusion. Apparently, Aelin hadn’t eaten enough for someone who was pregnant and anemic both. Guilty. She had been so on edge physically and mentally that day she forgot to eat — or couldn’t, depending on the nausea — and look where it got her. In the middle of the gentle scolding she was receiving, Elide and another doctor entered the room.

Ellie scanned the room and cleared her throat. “Hey, Ae. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better.” Aelin gestured to the IV fluids she was receiving.

Satisfied with her answer, Elide continued after silently greeting Rowan. “This is Dr. Towers, the one I recommended to you.” And you didn’t schedule an appointment with, the unsaid words hanging in the air.

At first, Aelin thought the woman was way too young to be an OB. But as Dr. Towers introduced herself, she decided this doctor was worthy of taking care of Shortcake. They would settle with her, if Rowan was okay with it. If he wanted to have a say in it, that is. Aelin quickly stole a glance his way, and Dr. Towers seemed to notice.

“Is this the baby daddy?”

It wasn’t difficult to tell Aelin’s heartbeat started pounding, because it was displayed in graphics and numbers for the whole room to see. The near tachycardia was answer enough for Elide, by the way her jaw dropped as she looked between Rowan and Aelin.

Avoiding Elide’s gaze, Rowan nodded and shook Dr. Towers’s hand. Aelin tried to not think about the meaning of this silent confirmation by redirecting her thoughts to how cute his flushed cheeks looked.

Ellie left the room to give them privacy, and thankfully Dr. Towers was all business. After checking exams, asking questions and pointing out many times that pregnant women needed several meals a day, she concealed as much as she could of Aelin’s lady bits during the pelvic exam. He didn’t need to, but Rowan looked the other way like he promised in the car.

And then it was time for the heartbeat. Aelin rearranged herself, her now sweaty palms doing nothing to help. Of all the things that happened today, having Rowan by her side for this was probably the only one that went right. He was intently looking at the device on Aelin’s lower body, and the sound came without notice.

Perhaps Aelin expected something a little more dramatic, but that sound was so weird and unexpected she’d probably laugh later about the reaction it gave her. Still, she felt so attached to that rhythmic beat, it was like she was listening to her favorite song for the first time. Shortcake’s heartbeat sounded like horses galloping in a moving spaceship, and it was so beautiful Aelin’s cheeks were wet before she could help it.

After the heartbeat high, the doctor went over a few more things and put Aelin under four hours of observation before discharging her. Just to be sure. Now it was only her and Rowan in the room for the first time since she came in, and if he didn’t know she was nervous by experience, he would because of the gods-damned device that announced for the whole room each time her pulse picked up.

“Buzzard, I’m so—“

“I know you are.” He looked her in the eye for the first time since finding out, and it broke Aelin’s heart to see his red-rimmed eyes.

She took a steadying breath. “I know you’re mad at me—“

“Can we talk later?” he grumbled through his teeth, his voice filled with restraint.

“Just let me—“

“I’m beyond mad, Aelin, I feel fucking betrayed.” Rowan ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “You were throwing up around the house, I was worried sick about you, and you didn’t care to tell me you were pregnant with my baby?”

He let out a breath and pinched his lips tight, pressing a fist against them. He started pacing around the room, and Aelin knew better than to argue with Rowan now.

He roughly ran a hand through his face. “Because after all this months—years, Aelin.” A deep breath. “Tell me what I did to make you hide our child from me.” He finally looked her in the face. “I’m serious. I’m good enough to fuck, but you don’t think I’m dad material. Is that it?”

How in hell did he jump to this conclusion? Aelin was already crying, but she swallowed down the guilt to defend herself.

“You know that’s not how I feel,” she snarled.

Rowan scratched his temple. “Do I? For hours I’ve been counting reasons you would repeatedly lie to me this week, and I can’t stop.” That was the thing she dreaded the most. The dazed, agonized look on his face, and knowing she was the one who put it there.

A nurse opened the door, but didn’t enter the room. With crossed arms, he hissed, “We’re in a hospital, can you please hold back the shouting?” They mumbled an apology, and the nurse left with a forced smile.

Rowan sighed. “I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you need anything?”

Looking down, Aelin readjusted herself in the hospital bed. “I think I’ll try to take a nap.”

He nodded and went his way, leaving Aelin to replay their previous argument over and over. There was no breathing exercise that could help the amount of tears falling or the ache she felt inside, but she kept on until she couldn’t anymore.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

That was so much worse than her worst case scenario, but she’d live. Just one bad day, and then she’d move on. With Shortcake. With or without Rowan.

While he took his time at the cafeteria, Aelin took deep breaths as she cried herself to sleep.

A/N: You can be mean to me I deserve it lol

4th and last part!

TAG LIST:

@autumnbabylon

@elentiyawhitethorn

@leiawritesstories

@rowanaelinn

@thegreyj

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #pregnancy #golden tattoo

107 notes · View notes

shyvioletcat · 2 years

Text

~ ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 2 ~ Babies/Pregnancy

Just a sweet canon piece for day 2 of Rowaelin Month. It’s very sweet, that’s all you need to know. Go to @rowaelinscourt for more.

~~~~~

Rowan couldn’t stop smiling.

It was an exhausted smile, the rest of his body was tired and weary and yet the smile stayed. He was walking through the private wing of the castle, it was nearly empty. Most of the inner court was outside his and Aelin’s chambers, waiting for the permission to enter. They would have to wait their turn before they would be permitted to enter to meet the new prince. There was one very important person that was due to meet him first.

Aelin was insistent that Elspeth be the first to meet the newest member of the family. While Aelin laboured they had thought it best that their young daughter be kept away. Just shy of two years old she wouldn’t be able to comprehend the pain her mother was in. Once things had become serious and Aelin could no longer mask the pain they had given Elspeth over to the care of Fenrys who had taken the princess to his own set of rooms to keep her away from the commotion. There had been tears in Elspeth’s eyes as Rowan handed her over, not understanding why she had to leave her mother while she was in distress. But then Fenrys had promised games and a trip to the kitchens and she had loosened her grip enough on Rowan’s shirt that he could pass her over.

From there he had given her one last kiss on her chubby cheek and rushed back to his mate who was busy cursing his name to the outcasted gods.

Many hours later their son had arrived, screaming gloriously as Aelin gathered him to her chest. Yrene had once again travelled from Rifthold for the delivery and declared him healthy and strong. Rowan had unashamedly shed tears over his son’s arrival, just as he had when Aelin had brought Elspeth into the world. The parents had taken their time to get acquainted with their son and when their new reality had settled on them Aelin had smiled up at him and told him it was time.

His fae hearing picked up on the laughter and chatter in the room and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his daughter’s sweet voice. Rowan knocked twice but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. Elspeth and Fenrys were sitting on the floor surrounded by her wood carved animals, she was handing over the wolves to Fenrys, babbling something too quickly for Rowan to pick up. It was Fenrys who noticed the intrusion first and he lent in to whisper something in the princess’ ear. Her head snapped to the doorway and her face lit up at the sight of her father standing there.

“Da!” she squealed and then she was running for him.

Rowan crouched down, ready to catch her in his arms. She didn’t slow down on her approach, and she landed against his chest with as much force as her little body could. He scooped her up, holding her tight to him and her arms went around his neck.

“Hello, little love,” Rowan said.

“I miss you,” she said and Rowan’s heart just melted when she pressed a kiss to his tattooed cheek.

“I missed you too.” It wasn’t a lie even though they’d only been apart for a few hours. “Did you have fun with Uncle Fen?”

“We had a lot of fun,” Fenrys supplied. Rowan looked over at the male, he looked exhausted. He’d probably been stressing as well as running himself ragged to meet Elspeth every whim like he was prone to do. “How is Aelin?”

Rowan smiled, it was impossible not to. “She’s well.”

“Can I see Mama?” Elspeth asked, hands turning her father’s face until she was looking at him.

Nodding, Rowan told her, “That’s why I came to get you.”

“Go! Go! Bye, Uncle Fen,” Elspeth said as she waved goodbye to her carer.

“Farewell, Princess,” Fenrys said. “Until we meet again.”

Rowan snorted at the dramatics, Fenrys certainly did still fit in with the court after all these years. Time had dimmed the certain ostentatiousness they collectively held. After a quick thank you and another goodbye from Elspeth, father and daughter left. Elspeth talked the entire way back to their private chambers, mainly about seeing her mother again. Then something connected in her little mind and she gasped loudly.

“My brother?”

Rowan grinned. She’d been told the news and for months she had been asking after her new brother or sister. “Yes, he’s here.”

“Oh, he’s here,” her voice was a very loud whisper.

By then they had reached the outermost doors of the royal rooms where most of the court still waited. Elspeth waved to them but Rowan didn’t stop. He opened the door, walked through the sitting area to the bedroom. The door there was partially open, and Rowan eased it open a little bit more looking towards the bed. Aelin was just as he’d left her.

The afternoon light had the room lit in a soft glow, illuminating the two figures on the bed. Aelin rested against the pillows, staring adoringly at the infant in her arms. There was a peaceful quiet in the room that even Elspeth was caught up in. Aelin heard them coming, and when her eyes landed on them she smiled.

“Hello there, my little love,” Aelin said, her voice disrupting the baby in his arms and he whimpered. Hushing him gently she held him closer and directed her attention to where it was most needed. When he was settled, Aelin looked over again, “Would you like to meet your brother, Elspeth?”

“Yes, I can,” Elspeth answered the best she could with her limited word access.

Rowan could feel his daughter’s excitement as he set her down on the bed and he had to quickly catch her before she launched herself at Aelin. “Hold on, Elspeth. Just sit down here.”

Immediately, she did as she was told and sat down on the bed beside her mother. She was humming with excitement, her hands dancing around as she waited for something to happen. Aelin lent over, easing the baby onto Elspeth’s lap. Rowan watched as his mate helped their daughter hold their perfect new son. The three of them were a vision and he didn’t realise he was crying until the first tears hit his cheek.

Elspeth kept one arm under the baby, but the other arm wrapped around him in a gentle hug. “Baby, my baby.”

“His name is Finnian,” Aelin told her, pressing a kiss to Elspeth’s hair.

“Baby Finn,” Elspeth said. “I love him.”

Rowan’s heart swelled in his chest, at those words he couldn’t breathe. He looked up, Aelin was already looking at him and there were tears in her eyes. This moment was beyond precious and he would treasure it, always. Elspeth hummed, it almost sounded like one of the lullabies Rowan would sing to her. A tiny hand stroked over Finnian’s cheek and over the fine hair on his head. Then it made its way down over his stomach where she patted gently.

Finnian let out a sigh and a wide smile appeared on Elspeth’s face. “He’s happy.”

Rowan’s laugh was little more than a whisper. “He is, because he knows you love him.”

“That we all love him,” Aelin added.

“Your turn, Da,” Elspeth declared.

“Oh, is it?” Rowan asked.

Elspeth nodded and Rowan took the baby before she could think of moving him herself. Finnian was so small he easily cradled into the crook of his arm. While he held his son, Aelin opened her arms to their daughter. She eased the little girl into her lap and Elspeth rested her head on Aelin’s chest. With the space vacated Rowan moved over on the bed so that he was close enough for Aelin to rest her head on his shoulder. Soon they would welcome the rest of their family, and far too quickly they would inevitably be swept up in state matters. But right now Rowan would bask in this moment that was only meant for them. For his family, the world could wait.

“Thank you for this, Fireheart,” Rowan said, looking at his son, then his daughter, and finally his mate who was looking at him with pure devotion. “This is what it is to live.”

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-@depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807

#please be kind i'm feeling very rusty #roawelin fanfiction #rowaelinmonth

115 notes · View notes

llyncooljones · 2 years

Text

no fucking in the office - rowaelin month day eleven.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month ‘22 masterlist

prompt: work rivals au

word count: 6633

trigger warnings: language, smut, nsfw, incredibly smutty. mentions of drugs and alcohol

tag list: @rowaelinscourt @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelin @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck

the office, early morning.

Glaring at Rowan Whitehorn was Aelin’s favourite thing to do. Something about narrowing her eyes, wrinkling her nose that little bit, and channelling all the hate and anger and dislike and distrust and (just in general) horrible feelings his way, satisfied a deep and yawning hunger inside of her.

So, she did.

Simple as.

She had a need. She had a way to satisfy the said need. She satisfied that need.

And then she did it all over again, at least three more times per day. Depending on her irritability, for how long she saw him, and whether they were close enough for her to glare at him, and for it to actually have an effect on him.

Because otherwise, she was giving herself wrinkles for no good reason, and that was not something she was interested in doing. And she accepted zero criticism on the fact that glaring at Rowan Whitehorn was a good reason. Because it was. And anyone who didn’t think so, was wrong in the most wrong way they could be: wrong according to Aelin.

And the damned thing was that they were both heads of different—and yet similar—media departments at the corporate-dream conglomerate they both worked for. Their jobs were exactly the same, they just handled different aspects.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius headed up the film, television, and radio departments. She headed the department like no one else ever had, and she did so comfortably. She proofread everything that came across her desk, and she watched all the products she oversaw, she was a fan of everything she processed—because she felt that it was the business.

Rowan Whitehorn headed up the social media, newspaper, and magazine departments. He did his job surprisingly well for a man who had gotten into Harvard on his father’s dime, had joined one of those societies and one of those fraternities, and had got his job by asking his friends ‘whose dad works in media?’ But sadly, he actually was doing a good job, so Aelin couldn’t hate him for being shit and thriving off nepotism, because he was actually bringing in more money from clients than her.

Now, it had become a competition. At the end of each quarter, they added up the stats. Found out who was best, and who would be crowned. Bets were placed, and their bosses never knew. Their first competition had been a year ago.

He had brought in the winning numbers. And she could hardly believe it. She had stayed up hours, during those three months, made more edits, and proofread her documents and proposals more times than she had on her dissertation for university. She had done everything, she had wined and dined her clients, she had met them for drinks, and she had offered the best deals she could. And yet, Rowan Whitehorn was still beating her.

Losing, the first time they had ever competed, killed her spirit. Killed a little bit inside of her, made her wonder a little more often if she wasn’t as good at her job as she thought she was.

A year ago, she had decided that if she couldn’t beat him playing her own game, she would beat him playing his. See if his approach—whatever it was—would help her win. She devised a plan, and set it out perfectly. She cleared her schedule of meetings for a day, on the day that Rowan had prospective clients coming in for a meeting.

She’d bump into them, get to chat with them, ask who they were here to see. Insist she take them to the meeting room, become fast friends, and like magic, she would be invited to sit in on the meeting.

She remembered, distinctly, patting herself on the back for that one.

But after that meeting, everything changed. It happened for the first time, and Aelin wasn’t sure whether she regretted it, or whether she was all too happy it had happened.

It was a toss-up between the two, and she wasn’t which she would rather win.

a year ago, the office

Aelin had to resist the urge to fist bump the air, or whoever next walked by her. She was walking in line with Rowan’s latest client. A mid-size company preparing to launch its new product. They wanted him to take them on, do his thing, and help them succeed. And Aelin had no doubt he would—especially given the recent competition the two had had, which crowned him the better head of department.

She chatted idly to them, smiling, and laughing in all the right places, using fun, anecdotal stories to relate to them, and so that they would relate to her. she tried to include things they seemed to be interested in, made sure they were quickly becoming familiar.

She turned her body slightly, facing the small group more so, and asked innocuously, “I’ve been escorting you to this meeting room, and yet I have no idea who you’re here to see. I am sorry for my lack of manners, but let’s just be glad I remembered myself. Who is it you’re here to see if you can say?”

“Oh, no worries. And yes, we can say. There is nothing scandalous going on here. We’re meeting with Mr Whitehorn. He heads up the department we’re aiming to work with. And, gods, we cannot wait for this meeting. He has such a unique approach. He’s so hands-on and so attentive to our needs as a company, I’ve just truly never met anyone who can tailor a package so expertly. Gods, when we found he was interested in working with us, we all collectively shat our pants. He’s a fucking legend of the industry.” The facial expressions told the story for her, they liked him because he got other people to do his work. These poor people didn’t know.

If these were the services, which he provided each and every one of his clients, then how the fuck was he standing. To be this detailed, this precise, and still be functioning? Fake news. He wasn’t doing it all and then popping into the office with no bags under his eyes.

“Oh, Whitehorn. I know Whitehorn. He’s brilliant, work with him all the time. But I’ve never had the pleasure of watching him in action, particularly. Don’t know why I’ve never sat in on some of his meetings. I truly would love to delve deeper into his style of business. Always learning, always trying to be better. That’s me!” her tone was so incredibly fake; it was beginning to hurt her throat. She hadn’t talked so high-pitched since was a cheerleader in high school.

And much as she’d like to ignore the fact that she was ageing, high school was a while ago. And she was sorely out of practice. She’d need a chamomile tea after this, and a massive helping of chocolate cake to soothe the aches along her throat.

“Oh! I don’t know why I’m only just thinking of this, but why don’t you sit in on our meeting? We’d love to help you broaden your knowledge, and it’s really no skin off our nose, not to better the business. Mr Whitehorn will be fine with it; he’s always been so accommodating.”

To you, she thought bitterly, and he most certainly will not be fine with it.

Glee shot through Aelin, the thought of pissing off Rowan Whitehorn, making her so giddy she could barely contain her laugh—her cackle most likely. She felt extra witchy at the moment.

“Oh, that’s too kind of you. I would love to sit in, my brains like a sponge, always soaking up knowledge!” her vocabulary was killing her, she felt like a child, speaking so happily. She was happy, yes, but not so happy she would be using words you could only know if you had read the thesaurus for a bedtime story.

She was a little annoyed at herself. That she didn’t trust her natural tone and vocab choices to do the job, that she had to rely on accents and tricks to become accepted. But really, the price was fairly low compared to what others did. At least she wasn’t breaking the law.

The rest of the walk passed in quiet murmurs, and sad jokes that fell a little flat. Aelin blamed them on her moment of self-reflection, realising she wasn’t enjoying whatever this was. But she needed to be perfect, unassuming and cutesy, and innocent when she walked into that meeting room. That meeting room she should not be planning to walk into.

They arrived at the door, and through the glass she could see the man himself, reclining in an office chair, spinning gently with no care. He looked light and fluffy, and she knew that if he were a cake—he’d be baked to perfection.

To catch him off guard, she didn’t knock. Just barged in, rude and brash, and all those brutal other things that made her up, that made her Aelin.

“Rowan. Lovely to see you, I bumped into your clients on the way up to my office. Figured I would escort them, and the lovely people that they are, they invited me to listen in on your meeting today. They’ve already said that you won’t mind, so that’s lovely. Honestly, this is so kind of you.” She took control of the room, of Rowan’s reaction, immediately. If she explains things, he can’t go against them without looking like an idiot, and boom! She’s allowed to sit in on the meeting. Funny how that worked.

“Greta, Alberta, Noa. It is so great to see you all again. I have been looking forward to this meeting for the longest time. I’ve been planning like you would not believe. I have to get it right for you guys, I really hope I’ve managed to fulfil all your dreams with what I’ve done.” Fuck. She could see why people loved him, he was just so good at playing to people’s tastes, interests, strengths and weaknesses. It was as though he had taken lessons on how to.

It was probably taught in that stupid little secret society. Or maybe it just flowed in his blood, as money and brains did.

one hour later.

Aelin didn’t think she had run from a room as she had just run from Rowan’s meeting. She was truly disturbed. Utterly horrified. It made her feel sick. To her fucking stomach. She debated if it was worth it to go retch over a toilet. Make sure she wouldn’t be sick.

She decided not. Her trousers were too nice to be knelt on. Let alone knelt on, on a toilet floor. She shivered, not a chance in hell.

She also decided it wasn’t worth bringing a bin with her because then she would have to empty the bin and carry a bag of puke with her to the bins, many floors down in the basement.

No, she would just pull up her big girl britches, be strong, be brave, and make sure she was not sick. Because that would be even more humiliating.

With her office door locked, the blinds for her windows drawn, and her heels kicked off—left somewhere in her office—she slumped down in her chair and placed her head in her hands. She should have never gone to that meeting. It would have been better for her if she hadn’t, better for her mental health most definitely.

But maybe it would have been bad for her sexual health.

Because being in that meeting had awoken something long-hibernating inside of her. she had read enough romance novels, bought enough sex toys, and seen enough porn to understand what it meant to be wet, what it meant to have kinks. And she knew a lot of kinks. Knew a few of them intimately from previous relationships.

But she couldn’t quite believe she had a competence kink.

But, by the gods, did she. She knew she was into butt stuff, knew she loved a little spanking, some choking, some hair pulling. Rough sex was her idea of fun—but competence was a new one. But a fucking heady one, she felt high after watching Rowan fucking Whitehorn be competent to the extreme in that meeting.

So, fucking high.

The way Rowan had moved around the room, never tripping, never stumbling, never seeming unsure—he moved competently. And Aelin found it hot, found it fucking sexually arousing.

The way he spoke, enunciating perfectly, never mispronouncing, his word choices fabulous in a manner she’d never encountered—he spoke competently.

But then, his voice? Oh, sweet, merciful gods, Aelin had a voice kink as well.

It was deep and delicious, with a foreign accent twinging when he moved certain words through his throat, the way his letters rolled over his tongue, or caught on his teeth, or pushed from his lips. She was gone, gone to fucking heaven, to paradise. But a sexual paradise, of course.

And the way he used his hands, he spoke vibrantly, using gestures and a wide range of motions to emphasise his points, to display the excitement of a deal—he used his hands competently.

But his actual hands? Staring at those hands, made her realise her third new kink of the meeting. A hand kink, she wondered if it were real. Or if she needed to make it up.

But, his hands, veins running over the back of it, winding up his forearms in the kind of artwork she would buy. His fingers were thick, his nails manicured—smooth, with rounded edges, and healthy soft skin. A little tattoo on his middle finger, and she was desperate to know what it was.

She was getting wetter, sat in her desk chair, images flashing through her mind of him: competently using those fingers, competently dirty talking her into oblivion. She was so distracted she didn’t hear the jiggle of her door handle, the snick of a key in the lock, the hinges creaking ever so slightly when the door is opened.

She only realised her alone time, her period of self-reflective reflection time, was interrupted when fluorescent light bathed her in its corporate glow and shone holes into her retinas.

“What the fuck was that, Galathynius? I knew you were fucking shady, fucking desperate, fucking competitive, but to the extent that you’ll manipulate my clients into inviting you to our meeting so you could fucking spy on me? So, you could commit some distant relative of corporate fucking espionage? I hadn’t you to be so snake-like. But fucking trust me, I won’t forget!” the voice of Rowan Whitehorn pierced through the office.

She hated herself for thinking it, but she was consumed by the distinct sound of his shouting voice, of its strength and solidity, and how it shot through her nervous system and sent nerve endings haywire just about everywhere in her body.

“That was me being smart about this competition.” She spoke angrily, annoyed beyond sense, her anger was so potent; she was mad to the point of ripping her hair out. she stood from her chair, and rounded her desk to stand in front of Rowan.

“What do you mean? Being smart, you were just fucking spying on me? How is that smart?” disbelief clouded his tone, his anger seemed less though.

“Yes. Smart. Spying was incredibly smart because we were playing different games and competing for the same fucking prize. So, I figured I’d play you at your own game. See if I could beat you with your own tactics.”

“So, you were watching me learn my tricks, to work like me? That correct?”

“Yes. So, that we’d be on an even playing field. So, it would be a fair test or competition.”

“Alright. Tell me, what are my tricks? Examine my body language, tell me how I use words to manipulate my clients and tell me what my PowerPoint colour choices tell you. Come one, if you were watching my techniques so intently, tell me about them.”

Cruel. His words were cruel. There wasn’t a way on this planet that he had any clue she wasn’t paying attention, and yet he had managed to hit the nail on the head, blindfolded, drunk, and a hundred metres away from it.

“Well. You made sure to keep your hands unclenched, and open. Your arms were never crossed, you never slipped into a power pose. Shows you’re open, suggests that you and the client are on the same level, that you want to be there.” She only knew because she had been looking at his hands, so yes, she had analysed his techniques.

Just not the ones in relation to his clients.

“Alright. Very good. Now, my word choices.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Like I’m your subordinate. I’m not. Don’t treat me like I am.” The venom spewed from between her lips, and she loved the sting of it against her lips, loved, even more, the reaction to it from Rowan.

His head jerked back. He looked a little shocked. A little puzzled.

But then he turned hungry. Got this glint in his eyes that told her he was going to eat her alive. And he would be damned if she didn’t enjoy it. She had never met anyone who could master facial expressions quite so, never met someone who could convey quite such meaning with a quirk of their eyebrows.

She’d also never met anyone who threatened to eat her, communicating via eyebrows twitches and lip movements. She’d never met anyone who made her believe they would, who made her believe they would make sure she enjoyed it.

But now, she felt as though she had known that person for a really long time.

“Alright. Tell me about my word choices. Or, tell me why you can’t.” his smirk hit peak smirk levels at that moment, he had never been more smug or full of himself. She’d also never felt so attracted to him.

“You used… a lot of connectives, to demonstrate the cohesiveness of your idea, and you also did that to show how ideas can flow, and how you want to be a smooth ride for them. Show that you won’t jerk them around, starting and stopping.”

“I used and twice, and not too many others. My points were all rather separate. Since you failed, Aelin, your forfeit is to answer the other question.” He made a face, sympathy mixed with unadulterated joy.

It disturbed her and made her wet. She loved this dominance. And she realised she had begun to be submissive, to his dominance in her office. In her own fucking office, he had dared to come in there, and then he had the nerve to trick her into submissiveness. Oh, he was going to feel her wrath.

“You think it's funny, Whitehorn? To manipulate women with whatever tricks your buddies taught you? That it’s all fun and games, a good old laugh and then not much more. Do you realise, that it can be incredibly damaging? That your games could be triggering. That you could be doing damage. No. You don’t, because you can’t think beyond yourself. Honestly, the fucking nerve of you—doing that to me. Go home and get your rocks off, I don’t ever want to see your face again.” She felt good again, comfortable in her own skin, scales and fucking all. She’d rather have spikes than have someone dig their own in her skin.

“Think that was going to stop me? That your little spiel was going to make me realise my own ill-morality? It hasn’t. It won’t ever, I know how to manipulate people, and I am all too happy to do so. You aren’t going to scare me off, keep trying though. You might make a dent one day, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet like condensed milk, his voice was death to her sexual attraction. (That’s what she told herself, in reality, she needed a new pair of underwear—stat!)

“I could only hope. But thank you for proving my point, that all you are is a pile of misogynistic shit, I had my hopes for you, but it’s no trouble to leave you in my dust when I report you. Probably the first person to do so, huh, you tend to prey on the weaker ones, huh? Can’t handle big bites with those little teeth?”

“Sweetheart, you think I don’t know?” his voice was like condensed milk, but even more condensed. She was concerned, even more so. Once more, she was worried he knew. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

“I know you don’t. yeah, daddy’s money couldn’t buy you brain cells, could it? It’s okay though, you wouldn’t be the first person to fail. Don’t be scared of it.” Aelin resisted the powerful urge to rip his teeth from his gums, to pull his hair from his head. She was so beyond mad, beyond annoyed, this was the reason she had gone into corporate, so she could save people from business sharks who were actually clownfish.

“Sweetheart, you spent the entirety of that meeting hanging on my every word. Every time I opened my mouth, you balled your hands into fists. Every, single time. When I took off my suit jacket, you watched my fingers move over my buttons like you were a lion, and they were your gazelles. Trust me, I know.”

Panic. She was spiralling. He was lying. There was a whole lot of stuff going on, and yet none of it could help Aelin. Not one bit.

“You know nothing. You aren’t going to manipulate me. I will not be one of your victims. I won’t. have another go, I won’t fold.” Stay strong, she was begging herself to stay strong. She could not look at how he was biting his lip, how his eyes had darkened. How his sleeves were rolled up, how his veins were throbbing slightly, and pushing at the skin.

It meant he was hot. Aelin did not disagree, he certainly was.

He took a step forwards. Then another. Two more. She scrambled back until she was gripping onto her desk. He continued forward, adjusted the strap of his watch, raked his fingers through his hair, and pulled at his tie where it rested against the hollow of his throat.

All nervous ticks, and yet he made them seem to like shows of confidence. She wanted to kill him, because how very fucking dare he. How very fucking dare he, he couldn’t be a bad fucking person, and yet still be so fucking attractive. The world simply wasn’t allowed to work like that. No, not a chance.

He didn’t stop moving until she was leaning back over the desk, cradled around the front by the angle of his body until his hands gripped the desk beside hers, and he was bending down to whisper in her ear until he was rasping his stubble across the top of her ear. Not a common erogenous zone, but, of course, it just had to be one for her.

And he just had to be able to tell that.

“I know, Aelin, that those goosebumps on your arms aren’t because you’re cold. I know that you weren’t biting your lip to stop yourself from speaking, but for another reason. I know your panties are wet, soaked through. And I know you want me to pull up that skirt of yours.”

Maybe it was okay to back down. If she knew he was able to manipulate, but she was okay with being manipulated, and she was sure he wasn’t actually manipulating her. she was beginning to wonder if he only saved that for subtly changing clients' minds. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t do that, because Aelin did.

Maybe she wouldn’t be a victim, because she wanted this.

Even quieter than before, “Tell me no, Aelin, and I will go.”

And it’s those few words that make her grab his neck, pull his lips down to hers, and whisper into his own ear, quiet like he was, “I want you to fuck me like I won that competition. With all your anger, and all your annoyance.”

He takes it to mean don’t stop, to mean for him to keep talking to her like he has been, so he does. Gods, does he keep talking to her like she deserves it.

“You going to prove my point, or just stand there? I want those fucking panties in my hand, and I want them to be soaked.” Shivers. Gorgeous, beautiful, shivers.

He never moved from his position, still bent over her, still barricading. She worked around him, happy to move around him in this situation. Only too happy to bow to his superiority, as she soaks her panties beyond sense.

With straight arms, she shuffles her skirt up her thighs, baring tanned, soft skin to his feasting eyes, to his hungry-to-bruise fingers. Hurried thumbs yank at the sides of her thong, pulling it jerkily down her thighs, until it dangles off on foot, which she bends awkwardly so she can grab them.

Against her fingers, the fabric was wet. It left a clean, sticky residue on her fingers, and it made a lewd plopping sound when deposited onto Rowan’s oversized palm. He looked down, made a fist, and hummed with satisfaction.

He whispered once more, “Sodden, sweetheart. Such a good girl for getting wet when you’re being shouted at. So, fucking good.”

She moaned, loudly, at his words. She couldn’t contain herself, couldn’t handle the way he spoke those words, the way his accent tossed them around his mouth and spat them out sounding sexier than they ever had before.

“Sweetheart, you need to be quiet, otherwise the others will hear us. I’d love to be able to trust you, but you might become a silly, forgetful little slut during this. And we need to be careful, don’t we?” she moaned again, loudly again. Only affirming his point.

He gripped her chin, pulling her wide eyes to his narrowed ones, and gritted out angrily, “Don’t we, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, we do.” She couldn’t call him sir, during their first time together, she couldn’t call the other one either. No matter how much she wanted to, she wasn’t going to call her co-worker daddy in the middle of the office, the first time he fucked her.

“Seeing as you’re in agreeance, I’m going to have to gag you, sweetheart. Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, and if you tap my legs, I’ll take it out immediately. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” daddy, she had to stop herself from saying. She nodded quickly, trying to distract herself from the urge, from the need to say it.

With no more preamble, he pried her lips open and inserted the wet ball of her panties into her mouth. She moaned obscenely—but not loudly—as her own taste exploded in her mouth, tasting herself so thoroughly she can barely focus. The idea was heady. The reality was mind-numbingly arousing.

He slid a tantalising finger down the centre of her shirt, on its journey he allowed for it to catch on the middle of her bra. Pulled her bra down using it, until he let it go, and let it snap against her shoulders. It stung, and she moaned, but her gag silenced it.

With hurried fingers, he yanked her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. Pulled at the silken ends of her shirt until they were free, and he could yank it up, over her head, and let it fall gently to the floor. Her chest was heaving, up and down so fast, a red flush stemming from her collar bones and slowly fading.

Aelin scrambled to undo the clasp of her bra, yanking at the hooks until it came free, and her breasts were revealed to the cool, air-conditioned air of her office. Her nipples were pink and rosy, peaked and reaching toward Rowan like he was their God like they were his gods.

A quick pinch had her back arching, a second pinch had her wetness slipping down the inside of her thigh. The third pinch had her begging loudly through the gag, not to be heard.

With Aelin distracted, Rowan worked on her skirt, pulling it down over her hips, yanking it brutally when it would move. After too much time, the stinging sensations on her nipples were wearing off, and the skirt was finally around her ankles.

She was naked, entirely bared to Rowan, whilst the door was unlocked, whilst anyone could walk in. And all it did was make Aelin wetter, was make Rowan harder. Make them both more desperate to fuck.

She was amazed, at how in tune they were despite this being their first sexual encounter. It usually took a guy a couple of tries to understand her needs, and none of them had ever been able to do it instinctively before she even realised that she felt that way.

His broad shoulders were posed between her thighs, pushing the supple out, spreading her legs, showcasing her core to him in the truest, illicit way.

He knocked her clit with his nose, sniffed deeply, and exhaled onto her clit, the nerves screaming violently at her, pitch forks and torches at the ready if they didn’t get what they wanted. And they wanted satisfaction.

“We need to hurry, sweetheart, because I have another meeting in twenty, and you have another in half an hour. The good news is, that your little cunt is so good and so pretty that it’s already so wet. So, I don’t need to waste time getting you ready, apparently, it only took me shouting at you to make your pussy hungry for cock.” His tone was cruel, his words we cruel, and yet Aelin was looking at Rowan with some sort of sex-induced admiration because she had never been made to feel this way by anyone else. “You ready for my cock, baby, ready to take it in that greedy pussy of yours. That fucking slutty pussy, so wet already.”

He stood and his height only served to make Aelin rub her legs together, those bunching muscles making her whimper—at the thought of what they could do to her. With a firm grip on her hips, he twisted her over, so her breasts were pressed against the cool material of her desk, and so she had to tilt her head to the side, so she didn’t smash her nose.

With so little effort, she could hardly believe he could do it. She couldn’t deny that it turned her on, that he treated her like a doll, that he was strong enough to do so.

A hand rested on the small of her back, whilst the other delved into the pocket of his slacks, to grab his wallet and extract a condom. He tore the packaging with his teeth, and she hoped he didn’t tear the latex, really hoped.

If she was debating calling this man daddy, she couldn’t have a baby calling him that too.

He rolled it on with practice she was grateful for, and notched himself with confidence, and fucking competence, at her opening. Nudging her clit first, he began to enter Aelin. He stretched her blissfully, stretching what needed to be, rolling against all those hard-to-reach spots with fingers.

Thick fingers trailed up her spine, grabbing the nape of her neck, before sliding to grab her hair in a tight, unmoving fist. With leverage she hadn’t found in anyone else, he pulled her back into a slight curve, her body cooperating in harmony with his will.

With each hard thrust, with every roll of his hips, Aelin was moaning, grunting slightly, or praising the thickness of his cock. She had her hands pressed against the desk, needing so desperately to have an anchor to the real world because her co-worker's dick was surely about to send her into heaven like it was God.

She was definitely praising it like it was the lord like it was a blessing, and a miracle and good, fucking brilliant. “You fuckin’ like that, huh? Having your hair pulled on like your gonna follow, well-behaved like you know this is your place. Didn’t even try to fight me when I put my dick in you. Why would you when you’re already so wet, so needy and desperate for cock that you were dripping down these soft thighs of yours.”

She loved it.

He let go of her hair slowly, lowering her middle down to the desk, continuing to thrust, not feeling sorry about the bruise she would have along her hip bones from the desk at all. When she let her chin rest on the desk, Rowan’s cock unmoving, and so thick inside of her that she might just orgasm like this, he grabbed each wrist and placed them at the small of her back.

The other hand loosened his tie, yanking it from under the starched collar to wrap it three times around her wrist before tying it in a bow so pretty he wanted to picture it. He wanted to take a picture of the unholy stretch of her pussy around the thick, ruddy root of his cock, the little rosebud of her ass. Clenching in time with her pussy around his cock.

Aelin was feeling crazy bent over her desk, every time she attempted to thrust back on his cock, his thick thighs stopped her, every time she tried to rub her thighs together he stood more firmly between them, making sure they spread, every time she tried to grunt, he managed to move backwards and away from the needy bud of her clit without moving inside of her cunt.

Aelin was desperate, she was moaning with every breath she took, she was dripping down his balls as she became needier and needier, she was trying anything to give herself relief. A big palm cradled the back of her head, keeping it in place, whilst his other hand went around her wrists and his tie-bondage.

She knew he was gaining leverage, knew it meant he was about to fuck her until she saw God sixteen times over, and felt higher than she would after two lines of cocaine. He moved his hips back, and the soft scrape of his cock across the walls of her pussy had her mouth splitting open and her makeshift gag falling to the table in front of her.

A long, loud, ludicrous, and gaining Rowan’s attention. Moving his hand from the back of her head, thrusting in and out of her cunt at a speed she can’t comprehend, he pulls his index and middle fingers in front of her face. “I can put my thumb there, baby, if you’re more comfortable with that?” his words stuttered slightly, feeling the effects of her warm, wet cunt and the arousal dripping out her pussy.

She wraps her lips around his fingers and lightly bites at them, digging her teeth in harder than necessary. to the extent that his heavy, steady, dizzying thrusts paused, and his hand came cracking down on her ass. she did it again, just to test her theory, and his hand once again slapped against the fleshiest part of her ass and sent pleasure travelling to all areas of her body.

Sent her pussy clenching crazily around his dick, her clit begging for attention.

Even in the form of slaps and spanks.

His thrusts turn frantic, desperate. Each thrust has him gasping out praise for her, calling her his best whore, telling her she’s the best fucking cunt he’s ever felt. Aelin’s eyes are welling up as her orgasm approaches, as the edge comes closer.

Her cunt is squelching and clenching, and she’s gasping for breath. She’s not quite sure of her own name, but as she reaches her peak, as her orgasm spreads along her nerves from head to toe, she sure remembers Rowan’s. Dropping his thick, saliva-coated fingers from her mouth, “Fuck, Rowan, you’re fucking me so good. Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh my gods!” her breathing has never been so heavy, she’d never felt so heady, she can feel her orgasm begin.

And then she shatters, feeling herself in every nerve ending, feeling insane as she comes, moans leaving her mouth, all sorts of praise about the fucking stupendous cock that was fucking her steadily through her orgasm.

Fucking her until his thrusts stuttered until he hit her g-spot so brutally she screamed and felt a smaller, second orgasm spread through her body and send her limp on her desk.

Buried to the very hilt, balls against her thighs, Rowan was coming. Hips juddering and jerking, mouth open, sweat dripping artfully down his temple, caught at the end of his eyebrow.

After his final jerk, he slumped over Aelin. Cradling her in his arms, so intimate for two people, who thirty minutes ago hadn’t ever been stood next to one another.

He stayed, slowly softening inside of her for a while, breathing heavily onto her bare shoulder blades, whilst her own heart thumped, and her own breath was not yet ready to be caught. It was too long, by one-night-stand standards.

But neither seemed to care, both seemed to love the calm, the quiet, the simplicity of life in those post-nut clarity moments. But soon, Aelin knew she would panic over sleeping with Rowan. And unbeknownst to Aelin, Rowan would be stressing out because he’s finally given in, and now she believed he was an asshole manipulator, not just her opposition in healthy competition.

All too soon, Rowan pulled out and slipped the condom off, tying the top and wrapping it in tissues, before dumping it in her bin. Then he was tucking his dick back into his underwear and his slacks, doing up buttons, zips, and belts. Righting his hair and dabbing at his forehead with some tissues to get rid of the sweat there.

All while Aelin was still stuck in her tie-bondage. Rowan was apologetic over it, sorry that he hadn’t been more attentive. But Aelin didn’t mind, it gave her a few moments to cool off, and calm down. Which she most certainly needed.

He was rubbing her wrists as she sat up slowly but dropped them the second he realised what he was doing. Because that wasn’t very Rowan Whitehorn of him. She slowly got dressed, finding her clothing in all the spots it had been discarded.

A throat was cleared, and an apologetic Rowan stood before her, “Sorry. About your panties. Your day is probably going to be really uncomfortable after this, didn’t really think of that.” It was the first time Aelin had seen him look sheepish, and she felt her heart constrict when he gripped his wrists together and tugged.

He truly did look torn up over it, his concern made her feel torn up.

“It’s no worry, I have a couple of spare pairs in my desk drawers anyway, you never know what could happen. A period leak, or kinky, panty-gag sex with your work rival. Ha.”

He walked out of the door like that, and Aelin found that for the first time, she didn’t want to celebrate when she saw his back. She decided she wanted to see it in a mirror as he pounded into her, all those back muscles she didn’t know the names of working to help him, pleasure her.

And decided she would make it happen. No matter what. She would make Rowan Whitehorn fuck her again, and she would figure out if he really was that much of an asshole.

#rowaelinscourt #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2022 #rowaelin month #rowaelin #rowaelin smut #my smut #tog #tog fic #throne of glass fic #throne of glass #my fic #my writing #smut #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #llyncooljones' writing

111 notes · View notes