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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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i don't know who i think i am updating so many times this week, but here we are. enjoy it while it lasts, kiddos. and happiest of birthdays to @shyvioletcat who is the reason i even wrote this fic in the first place. love u bb 💚

rowaelin // 7k words // masterlist

The pillow beside him still smelled faintly of her perfume, yet when he reached for the warm body that should have been next to him, he found nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Rowan let out a low groan of disappointment and rolled halfway off the bed to feel for his jeans. When he finally found his phone in the back pocket and checked the time he knew she hadn’t been gone for too long. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and he was almost positive she had been pressed against him the majority of the night.

Gods, last night. Rowan hadn’t had sex in months, and the woman Connall had pushed toward him like an offering had been his perfect match. Everything he gave her, she had given back. She took as much as he did, and he couldn’t help himself when he sent her tumbling over the edge until she was a shaking, sweaty mess. It was, by far, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The sounds of her breathy moans, the feeling of her cherry red nails dragging sharply up his back and over his shoulder blades, or of the way she’d pressed her fingertips into his lower back to urge him closer… Those were things he would not soon forget. He was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have the reminder of her hands etched on his skin until at least tomorrow.

He was desperate to do it all over again with her.

It took him a moment, but he managed to find another pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt in the back of the closet. As the door leading to the apartment closed behind him, a heavy sigh sank from his chest. Connall had a smirk that said he knew way more than he should. The bastard. He spent so many late nights at the bar, it wouldn’t surprise Rowan if he had been there all night and heard every sound he pulled from Aelin’s soft, perfect lips.

“Terrasen won last night.” Connall was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, drying a clean glass as he took in his friend.

“I know,” Rowan grumbled, adjusting his clothes from the night before in his hands. Several of his missed text-messages had been about their victory. Apparently, it had been a close game that went into overtime. But it seemed that Orynth grew football players in the mountains, fertilizing them with the gods only knew what.

Through the window the sky was already full of fluffy white clouds. It made it hard to be too glum. Soon the sun would be shining brightly over Varese. It was a new day, Monday was a new week, and there was still time for someone to knock Terrasen out of the winning streak that had been going on for the last two years before Rowan had to face them in a few months.

“Your girl left about an hour ago, if you were wondering.” He was, but instead of saying so he just grunted a response and headed out the door.

The following week was his normal routine. Rowan returned to Doranelle after spending the rare off-weekend down in Varese. More than once he had tried to pry details from Connall about if Aelin had been back to the bar or not. Apparently she hadn’t, but his friend swore to let him know if she did. It had been five days and she hadn’t been seen. Was it pathetic the way he wished he had a way to contact her? Definitely. But there was something about her that he couldn’t shake, that he refused to let fade into the recesses of his mind.

On the sixth day since meeting her, not that he was counting, he’d carried his laundry hamper downstairs to throw in the wash. Out of habit, he patted down the pockets of all his pants. Rowan had learned the hard way a few years ago that not doing so resulted in very expensive headphones being ruined in the wash. Could he afford another pair? Of course he could, but it was a waste of money when he could simply not wash them and not have to spend two hundred dollars for no reason.

There was a soft crinkling in the pocket of his jeans, one that he barely noticed. They were already halfway into the washer when Rowan fished out the folded piece of paper. Merely a receipt from any of the establishments he visited last weekend, he tossed it on top of the dryer while he finished loading the rest of the clothes and tossed in the detergent. He swiped it up again to throw away on his way out. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he decided to look at it before trashing it. Just to make sure it wasn’t from anything he might need to return later.

When he unfolded it and saw the writing over the top of a faded credit card transaction, his heart stopped beating. It wasn’t a receipt. Well, it was, but nothing that he had purchased. It was a note written in blue pen, words a little smudged from being folded up before the ink had fully dried. Each letter was in swooping, sloping, cursive letters with a little heart underneath.

Just in case you need to release some more tension. I know I do. - A

The short message was followed by a series of numbers, and Rowan had never in his entire life scrambled so hard to put a contact into his phone. A tattooed finger traced over the numbers, lips mouthing the numbers in an attempt to double check himself. Without giving himself a single heartbeat to change his mind or chicken out, he pressed call.

By now she could have forgotten about him entirely. Maybe she wasn’t interested anymore, or perhaps it had taken him too long to reach out. He did have a good reason for the latter, but she might not see it that way. There was hope that she would, though. Everything about her had seemed easy going and he doubted she would be mad that she sent him on a scavenger hunt with no directions. Maybe if he wore normal clothes instead of athletic shorts or sweats more often he would have found it sooner. It was too late to change that now, though. Impatient fingers drummed atop the counter while it rang, and rang, and rang.

Her voice chirped through the speaker, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was just the recording of her voicemail. Her accent, so different from his but lovely all the same said in a teasing tone, “While it is your absolute utmost misfortune to have missed me, leave a message and I’ll call you back. Unless it’s about work. Call my work phone and we’ll talk about it.”

Rowan had never wished so badly to have someone’s business line in his life, but he still patiently waited for the beep. His heart was a stampede of wild horses while he waited for the beep. As soon as it sounded, he cleared his throat and immediately grimaced at himself. Idiot. Why didn’t he do that before it started recording?

“Aelin, it’s Rowan. I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but someone hid her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans and I just got around to doing laundry. I’m not in Varese this week, I’m actually in Doranelle for work. But I should be back in town soon, maybe next week, I–” The voicemail beeped, declaring the message was fully recorded and he swore colorfully as he ended the call.

With a mind of their own, his fingers opened a new text thread and shot off a message: My voicemail got cut off, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for it. xx

After pressing send, he cringed. Since when did he sign off a text message with an x? Much less two of them? He’d spent one night with the woman and now he could barely figure out which way was up and which was down.

Sure, he had been out of the dating game for quite some time, but he didn’t have to sound like he was. The last time he flirted intentionally had been years ago. Every other encounter had been random hookups in random cities across the world where he didn’t have to worry about following up.

Except that this time, he wanted to. There had been so much ease when he talked to her, the flirting had come naturally. It hadn’t even been wholly intentional to begin with. Rowan had never used talking about soccer as a seduction technique, but it had clearly worked on her somehow. The banter they’d shared back and forth displayed a unique type of chemistry he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. He could only hope that she felt the same way and still wanted to do it all over again, too.

~*~

“I really like everything you have here, but–”

“It’s not great,” Luca interrupted, his shoulders sagging while he waited for the sharp edge of disappointment. Aelin’s lips pursed as she looked at the young man. Luca was fresh out of college as a graphic designer, and working for the Fireheart Art Foundation was his first real world job post-graduation. It made her simultaneously want to berate the insecurity out of him and comfort him by how traumatized he was from difficult professors in college.

“I was just going to say that I want this header font to be white.” She gave him a look that portrayed exactly how she felt about how hard he tended to be on himself. “I wouldn’t have hired you to work in this office if I thought you needed to be micromanaged.”

Luca let out a breath, nodding and sinking into one of the chairs across from her desk. Nervous hands ran up and down his thighs like he was shaking out the nerves. She understood. The feeling of mountains of pressure on you and like you had no room for error was a familiar one. Helas below, she felt like that right now. Aelin was in her mid-twenties and running a charity and she refused to let it fail.

“I just want to do a good job.”

“And you are, my friend. I chose you and your portfolio of work out of a lineup of seasoned professionals. You bring something new, young, and fresh to the table. Your lack of experience doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing a good job. It just means that you’re still learning, and I want to help you with that. You don’t need to be nervous to show me something that you’ve created. If something needs to be tweaked, obviously I’m going to tell you. But you understand the brand I’m building and the image I’m putting out almost as well as I do. Be more kind to yourself,” she said gently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

“You are nothing like what my professors said future bosses would be like.” Aelin laughed at the same time her personal phone started buzzing on her desk. She didn’t recognize the number and it was silenced as she handed the tablet back over to Luca.

“I sure hope not. While I have a specific vision of things, I want you to use your creativity and have fun with it. I’m never going to give you a list of a hundred specifications. I’ll tell you what needs to be included and let you take your knowledge of our company plus your creativity so you create something you’re proud of. When you eventually move on from Fireheart, I don’t want you to have a stack of things you made for us that you aren’t proud of to show off. Okay?” Aelin’s phone pinged with a new voicemail from whoever had been calling and sighed. “Email me the file after you change the header.”

Luca gave a mock salute and flipped the tablet case closed, walking toward the door and shutting it behind him. Aelin let out a content sigh in the silence, leaning her head against the back of her hair while she gazed out the window at the city below her. She let it sink in, the work she was beginning in a new country on a different continent, an ocean away from home.

It was easy to allow herself to feel pride in the foundation, an idea she brought to her parents a few years ago. The Fireheart Foundation began three years ago when she was twenty-two. What started as an idea to work with local underprivileged youth in Orynth soon blossomed into two, then three, then four offices scattered over Terrasen. Her home country had always taken huge pride in the arts– Orynth itself was huge on the importance of it for its young citizens. The rest of the world shared those sentiments because by its second year they were receiving global recognition. Now, on the eve of its third birthday, Aelin was expanding to Wendlyn: her mother’s home country.

She had plenty of family in Varese. Most of Evalin’s family still lived here, Aelin’s grandparents included. Ever the proud grandfather, Ciaran Ashryver had been beyond excited to help her find an apartment until the end of November, locate appropriate office space, and had started putting out a few feelers for potential employees almost as soon as she mentioned the idea. By the time she stepped off her plane, she was all set with somewhere to live and a floor in a building downtown to begin working.

A handful of employees from the other locations in Terrasen had arrived this morning to be hands on in helping train some of the Varese staff. New members to this office were taking positions that needed little actual training and something more like direct guidance from Aelin. Like Luca and his graphic design. He didn’t need to be trained how to do his job, just needed the push to grow into his full potential.

Aelin’s thoughts were tugged back to reality when another small vibration from her phone had her reaching for it. Ah, right. The missed call, voicemail, and now text message from the number she didn’t know. It was a local area code– probably a new employee getting her their contact information like she’d requested.

As soon as she saw the message preview, though, she was quick to unlock the screen. With arms braced on her desk, she scanned the message with a growing smile on her face. Rowan. He had finally found the note, it seemed. No time was wasted in saving his number to her contacts and tapping furiously to get to the voicemail.

When Rowan was cut off mid-sentence, she laughed out loud. It was really more of a school girl’s giggle than anything, relief that he had not just texted, but called, too. It made warmth flood from her toes to her fingertips. There had just been something about him, about their matching wit and seductive teasing that left her craving more. For the first time in an extremely long time, it hadn’t felt like it was just about sex. Despite how she had kept everyone at arm’s length and refused to let them get close since her relationship with Sam had ended so poorly, things with Rowan had been different since the moment he sat beside her at that bar. It didn’t mean it would go anywhere besides a fun fling, but a kernel of hope still flickered in her chest.

She tried to think about what Lysandra would tell her to do: how long she should wait to text him back, what the rules were. It had already been nearly a week, though. Hadn’t there been enough waiting on both parts? His voicemail had sounded rushed enough that it was like he was impatient to talk to her again, too. The follow up text practically proved it. No, she wouldn’t follow silly hard-to-get dating rules. Maybe she didn’t want to be hard to get. Besides, she was only here for a few more months. It likely wouldn’t lead to anything serious, and there was no harm in having fun while she was here.

That is what Lys would want for her. Something fun and easy that she didn’t have to think too much about. That would give her release from the insanity of running an international foundation with little outside help. Having made up her mind, she tapped his contact and hit the call button.

“Aelin?” Her name was breathless on his tongue when he picked up after the third ring. With a brow furrowed in curiosity and a small smile resting on her lips, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the somersault her stomach lurched into when he said her name.

“Rowan,” Aelin drawled, entirely positive that he sighed with what sounded like relief. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound–”

“No, I was just– no. This is good. Perfect time, actually.”

“Are you sure?” She heard rustling on the other end, like maybe he was adjusting himself where he sat.

“Is it embarrassing and off-putting if I tell you I lunged for my phone when I heard it ringing? I was in my bedroom and jumped onto the couch to get it before it stopped.”

“What if it hadn’t been me calling back? Did you even check the caller ID?” The laughter that bubbled out of her was entirely involuntary. Having a man that excited to talk to her was so sweet it made her teeth ache. When had anyone ever been so forthcoming with any level of affection for her? Dorian, probably, but that was a relationship based solely on fun and most of the time he was teasing.

“No,” he grumbled. “I would have disconnected the call as soon as I got a denial it wasn’t you.”

“That is the most adorable thing a man has ever said to me,” she vowed, her hand resting on her stomach to calm the swarm of butterflies within.

“I’m not doing an absolute shite job, then?” There was a timidness to his voice that made her heart squeeze. What on earth did he have to be nervous about?

“I called you back, didn’t I?” She teased, but when he didn’t answer and seemed to be waiting for a genuine response, she assured him that he was doing absolutely perfect.

~*~

“Who the fuck has you smiling, Whitethorn?” Lorcan Salvaterre whipped his towel out to smack Rowan directly in the stomach. He immediately frowned, locked his phone, and rubbed the spot above his belly button the corner of the towel had popped. Lorcan tossed the weapon over his shoulder, sitting down on the bench in front of his cubby. The wet, dark curtain of hair hung around his face as he bent down to start shoving his match gear into the bag at his feet.

“Nobody.”

“That’s a lie,” Fenrys quipped from behind them. Rowan glared over his shoulder, knowing full well that the blonde was in complete cahoots with his twin brother. Evidently Connall had told him everything. How Fen had managed to keep his mouth shut about it all week was entirely beyond him. If it hadn’t been about his personal life, Rowan might have been impressed with his self control. “He met a girl.”

Lorcan’s head swung around, eyebrows raised high as he said, “Did we not learn our lesson from the last jersey chaser?”

With a scowl pulling his entire face into a frown, Rowan shook his head. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t even know who I am. To be entirely honest, I don’t think she would have talked to me if I hadn’t saved her from one of Con’s mystery cocktails.”

At that, Lorcan winced. Just like he’d told Aelin, they were all too familiar with those special drinks. It didn’t matter how impressive one’s alcohol tolerance was, no one was safe. Rowan distinctly remembered a time several years back when he had to tie Lorcan’s black hair out of his face to avoid it getting in the toilet. Everyone was pretty sure he had alcohol poisoning that night, but it wasn’t totally Connall’s fault, either. Lorcan had said he could handle it. The joke was on him at the end of the night, though. Nobody could handle them as delicious as they might be. Those fuckers were dangerous.

“Met her at the pub then?” Lorcan’s eyes were full of hesitancy and skepticism as he spoke. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. That topic was a tedious tightrope to walk, one that had ended in Rowan shutting down completely more than once.

“She gave me a lot of shit about ‘soccer.’ We talked through most of the Orynth and Red Desert game.”

“And then Rowan took her upstairs and–” A sweaty pair of shorts hit Fenrys directly in the face, cutting him off with a violent gag. Always the drama king. “I just showered.”

“That’s enough out of you, boyo,” Rowan said in a tone that meant shut up or it will be my fist next time. A few of their other teammates filtered from the showers, several of them claiming they needed full body massages STAT. Rowan was inclined to agree, but he had better things to do tonight. They had won their match against Adarlan and he was feeling lucky all around.

“You’re not… worried?” Lorcan was pulling on a fresh pair of socks as Rowan sat on the bench beside him, jaw tight. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Aelin gave no indications that she knew who he was, and most of the girls that fawned after them for being professional athletes couldn’t make it through a whole conversation without expressing what huge fans they were. As if their obsession with his body would make him more likely to sleep with them. It was a trick that worked when he was young and stupid, but now that he was older it was just… violating.

No, he wasn’t skeptical. It had been two weeks and soccer had only come up in the form of jokes between conversations that ranged from casual to toeing the deep-and-personal line. Their texts were as constant through the day as they could be with them both working. At night when they were both available and Rowan wasn’t completely wiped out from practice, they would have hours-long phone calls. Last night Aelin had fallen asleep mid-sentence, like she couldn’t stand to say goodnight to him even though she needed to sleep. When he realized she had dozed off, nothing but the soft huffs of her breathing coming through his speaker, he’d quietly wished sweet dreams upon her before hanging up.

Her apologies had been profuse throughout the day, but they weren’t needed. It had been a long while since anyone had taken the time to get to know him for him and not one of the world’s best center-forwards. With her, he was just Rowan. No grass-stained jerseys and golden trophies attached. Just the version of himself that he was over ninety percent of the time.

“I’m not worried about that with her. She’s not… like that. I’m going to tell her what I do soon, but for now she thinks I coach at the high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He and Lorcan did put on football camps at their old high school in Doranelle over the summer. Tirelessly, they would host two separate camps that lasted for two weeks in June and July. It was part of his job… just not his actual job right this second.

“What does she do?” Fenrys asked, shooting Rowan’s dirty shorts back over to him. He dropped them into his bag and zipped it up, slipping his feet into his slides. Vaughan came out of the showers then, bumping his fist as he passed and muttering that Rowan played well, to which he gave his friend a nod in return.

“Charity work. She teaches piano and dance class at different art programs. For the next few months she’s doing after school lessons in Varese.” Rowan hefted the duffel up onto his shoulder, wincing as he stood. Nothing was hurt, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be. While he should probably spend some time in an ice bath to help his muscles recover, it was honestly the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was getting in his car and speeding down the highway to Varese.

“Please tell me you’re not about to get in your car and drive two hours to see a girl you just met immediately after a game,” Lorcan said flatly. Try as he might, it was impossible not to grin. Just a little.

“Hate to disappoint you. Maybe you’ll understand one day when you stop being such a coldhearted dick.” It was a joke, but there was some truth to it. Lorcan had a strict policy about women during game season, and kind of in general. There would be absolutely no distractions for him during the season. He might let off some steam and have random hookups here and there, but the possibility of any sort of real relationship was off the table. During the off-season, he claimed it was time to have fun. Everyone was thoroughly convinced he would never settle down, or that it would take an absolute badass of a woman to turn him into a house-broken man. Rowan wasn’t sure that was possible.

Lorcan grumbled mostly to himself while the rest of their lingering teammates gave Rowan encouraging slaps on the back. While he hated that it was out to his teammates and friends already, he knew it was genuine support. A few years ago he had been through absolute hell and ever since there had been a stormy cloud hovering over his head because of it. Rowan knew Lorcan came from a good place. Everything with Lyria had ended… extremely poorly. Things with Aelin wouldn’t be like that, though. This was different. She was different.

It had been two and a half weeks since the first night, and their budding relationship had been strictly through text messages, phone calls, and the occasional video chat. Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to Varese because of practice, games, and her work schedule. The one night he would have been able to make it into the city, she had called him an hour before he was due to head out and explained that something came up at work that she had to deal with. It had been disappointing, but he understood. If they had lost their game today he wasn’t so sure he would be driving anywhere but home to sulk.

With a shiny new win under his belt, he was eager as he snapped his seatbelt into place and began the two hour drive up to Verese. It would be after ten by the time he finally got there, but Aelin had insisted– was still assuring him– that it was entirely okay. Evidently she would have dinner ready for them when he arrived. His growling stomach could hardly wait.

~*~

Rowan’s muscles throbbed dully when he pulled himself from his car a couple hours later. Thankfully he would have the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to recover before practice. He made a mental note to head in early for a little physical therapy on Monday morning.

The plan was that they would hang out for a little while before Rowan headed to his apartment in the city. While he lived primarily in Doranelle, he liked that he could be a little more low-key in Varese most of the time. It had become his second home, and a few years ago it made sense to get an apartment nearby to avoid having to crash in Connall or Fenrys’s guest room every time he was in town. Tomorrow, Rowan had vowed to show Aelin his favorite spots downtown and a few that he just had an inkling she would like.

Based on their conversations, Aelin had quite the sweet tooth. There was a bakery on 4th avenue that was more than capable of satisfying her cravings. Less than a five minute walk from her office was his favorite coffee shop, and the heart of the city was stuffed to the brim of delicious restaurants and alluring confectionary shops she would love. The weather tomorrow would be absolutely beautiful– the perfect day to stroll downtown before the beginning of another hectic week for Rowan. For her, too, it seemed because she had days where she felt like she was putting out little fires everywhere.

Double checking the apartment floor and number Aelin had sent over earlier that afternoon, Rowan began his climb up the stairs. It was an older building with the elevator apparently in a constant out-of-order state since she had moved in. She had both complained and apologized about it in advance, but Rowan was used to running up and down the stands during practice that it didn’t really matter.

Despite being a century old, the building had character and hadn’t slipped from its former glory. The floors were black and white marble, the wood of the staircase a deep mahogany. Gold accents were littered throughout in vases, frames, and wall sconces. Just inside the front door a glittering chandelier reflected small rainbows along the walls and floor through the crystals that dangled from its arms. Even if Rowan hadn’t known its historic significance, it was easy to imagine how it looked just after it opened. It was still a luxury apartment building, regardless of age.

His thighs ached with the ascent, feeling every stride he had taken on the field a few hours ago. Thankfully he only had to get to the second floor and a few doors down according to Aelin. Gods, he was exhausted. There was little time in a match when Rowan wasn’t on the field and throwing his all into every step he took, every kick that sent the ball flying into the goal with ease. After most games he would soak in an ice bath or get stretched out by one of the trainers, but he’d been entirely too eager to get to Varese to waste any time. Tomorrow he might regret it a little, but he would have regretted not making the drive even more.

It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her door that he started to have a small, momentary bout of panic. How was he supposed to greet her? Did he hug her? Kiss her? They hadn’t discussed it, but then again who plans out a greeting? Rowan wanted to bang his head against the door at the knots this woman twisted his stomach into. He was being ridiculous. Rowan Whitethorn was a thirty-one year old grown man, for wyrd’s sake. Surely he could handle not fucking up as soon as she opened the door.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Seconds after knocking, Aelin opened the door and pulled him inside by his fingers, rocking up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as soon as the door was closed before saying, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, letting her pull him deeper into the apartment.

Rowan had seen the space in the background of their video chats, but it became abundantly clear that Aelin had a taste for opulence. Various pieces of art were framed all over the walls, fresh flowers rested on the table tops. Several jewel-toned rugs lay upon the restored wooden floors and her couch was deep green made of plush velvet. The dining and end tables were golden and topped with marble. Even the blankets over the back of the couch were fluffy fabrics that no doubt felt like being covered with a cloud.

A handful of boxes were still stacked in the corner of the living room, easily visible because of the open floor plan the space offered. To the left, the kitchen boasted marble countertops with golden hardware. Yes, this apartment building was still very much in its golden age, or maybe Aelin was just that skilled with decorating.

Rowan’s was a modern apartment building closer to the business district, but this one honestly blew it out of the water. In the short time she had been there, only a few weeks she had told him, Aelin had managed to make this into a home. It felt lived in and loved, like she had always been here. Despite being able to smell the slightly-musty age of the building, it was buried under layers of jasmine, lemon verbena, and the dinner she had simmering on the stove.

“Ignore the boxes, I’m still waiting for some shelving to come in for my books and things,” she explained with the wave of her hand. As if the stack of boxes could ever take away from the magical oasis she had transformed the apartment into. Compared to this, the house in Doranelle that he had lived in for the last six years was bare and nowhere near a home.

“Are you sure you’ve only been staying here for a few weeks?” Aelin’s laughter was bright as she walked into the kitchen and began mixing the contents of a large pan with a wooden spoon. Aelin’s legs were bare, seemingly nothing beneath the t-shirt that hung to the tops of her thighs.

“I’m a creature of luxury. Besides, I’ll be splitting my time between here and Orynth with work.” It was admirable how much she seemed to love the kids she taught, how passionate she was about her work. Piano and dance lessons couldn’t afford an apartment like this, though. Not when she so proudly supported underprivileged areas of major cities. Rowan was sure her parents had the money to help her out, not that it mattered. That was a conversation for another day, especially when she started plating their dinner. “I hope you like pasta.”

“Are there people that don’t?” He asked, taking both plates from her. Aelin walked past him with a bottle of wine and two glasses, heading for the couch instead of the table.

“It should be a felony, but I’m sure some bizarre creature or a human exists out there, hating pasta with every fiber of their being.” Rowan snorted in response, handing her the plates after she sat down and folded her legs like a pretzel in front of her. The tiniest pair of shorts that he’d ever seen peaked out from beneath the hem of her shirt.

Sitting beside her and taking his plate, he had to fight back a groan when he took the first bite. Aside from his mother, he couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that didn’t involve a waitress as a go-between. It was nice to feel cared for, he realized. Even if they both knew tonight would end in her bed.

A documentary played while they ate, conversation ebbing and flowing with ease throughout. He managed to get her talking a little more about work, how a coworker named Luca was having a hard time with confidence in what he produced but he didn’t need to be. According to Aelin, he was a brilliant young graphic designer and she hoped that with some nurturing under her wing, he would bloom to his full potential.

When he asked about siblings, she shrugged, “I have a cousin that’s really more like my brother. We’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Besides him, I’m an only child.”

“So am I, but I have a hoard of cousins. I’m closest to Sellene and Endymion. Sellene would like you.”

“What’s not to like?” She teased, eyes full of mirth as she looked at him over the top of her wine glass. The heat in her eyes gave him a vivid memory of what she had looked like writhing beneath him.

Gods above, he needed to get a grip.

Aelin listened intently while he talked about his mom and dad, Sellene and Endymion. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell when he recounted memories from his childhood and chimed in with her own. Both of them may have been only children, but agreed they’d never felt lonely or alone for the most part.

“There was a period when my cousin went off to college—” she paused for another sip of wine and to place her empty bowl on the coffee table. Rowan did the same. “That was the only time I felt lonely. He’s four years older than me, so it was hard to go through my entire high school experience with him not quite as close. He actually went to college in Doranelle and could only really come home for holidays. He surprised me for my 16th birthday and it was the best one I’ve ever had.”

There was a small smile on her lips before she continued, “My parents had a limo for me and my friends to ride to the venue it was at, and I got in the car and the partition was lowered. The driver was wearing a hat and aviators, straight out of a movie. And then he said I hear we have a birthday girl in our midst and I knew it was him. I completely lost it. Best present ever.” Rowan found himself grinning along with her, her joy at the memory contagious to his core.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have cousins that terrorized you until you were big enough to fight back.” That had been the general tone of his upbringing, but once he went through puberty and grew well over six feet tall, the teasing had calmed down a bit. Probably because Rowan could easily throw Enda over his shoulder by the point.

“Oh, gods. Believe me, we have been through it. There were times when he was annoyed that I wanted to do everything he did, and times when I was annoyed that he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends or boys that I liked. He used to sit on me and tickle me until I cried and we were constantly trying to flick each other until we were bruised like peaches. Typical sibling stuff.”

Rowan laughed, nodding as he recalled having very similar memories with Enda specifically. He could relate to the ones based in annoyance— Sellene had been a hellion.

“Sellene used to embarrass me in front of pretty girls, too. Not that I needed help in that department. I do fine enough on my own to this day, but seventeen year old Rowan didn’t know how to talk to women at all.”

“You’ve done alright with me.” Aelin’s small hand reached for his, lacing their fingers like she had done it a million times. Her nose wrinkled as she grinned, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Godsdamn, this woman.

“I wouldn’t be so lucky if we were in high school.” At that, she laughed, making a teasing quip about his rushed voicemail and stilted text message. At the end, she reassured him it was charming and that he wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think so.

“Some people struggle digitally. I won’t hold it to you, old man.” Rowan flicked her knee at the moniker, but couldn’t repress the smile on his lips all the same.

~*~

“Rowan,” Aelin said softly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. The man behind her released a low groan as his arm tried to pull her back down.

After talking for what must have been hours, they settled on watching New Girl and had, apparently, fallen asleep not too long after it started. A wide yawn escaped her as she patted his thigh a few times to rouse him awake.

“Shit, what time is it?” Rowan forced himself to sit up behind her, knocking his elbow into her shoulder in the process. Instead of cowering in pain, she started to giggle through the sleepy fog. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” she promised, tapping the screen of her phone. “It’s almost five.”

“I can go. I didn’t mean to fall—”

“I’m not waking you up to kick you out. I’m waking you up to come to bed with me.” Aelin stood, holding out her hand. Once she had both of his hands in hers she began to tug, taking steps backward while he pretended to protest by going nearly entirely limp against the couch. “You can sleep by yourself out here, it’s fine.”

Dropping both of his hands she turned and made her way toward her bedroom. Aelin had only made it a handful of feet away before strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Rowan pressed soft kisses against her neck at the same time he lifted her entirely off the floor. Stomach flipping, she squealed while he padded toward her bedroom, finally placing her down on the bed.

She was quick to crawl under the blankets, flipping them back so he could get in with her. He followed dutifully, slinging his shirt off and tossing it onto a little chair in the corner of her room as he sank down until his head rested against the pillow.

Despite how easy it would be for either of them to roll onto the other and make the other unravel at the seams, she gently pecked his lips a few times. Each one lingered a little more than the last until she finally pulled away and rested her head against his chest. With his hand rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, it was easy to melt into him, eyes drifting shut as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that smelled like home. @elentiyawhitethornorn @autumnbabylonylon @fancysludgeshoelampelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-lifee @the-hospitality-of-knivesf-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior

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krimsnkramsart · 2 months

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#the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #immortal husbands #tog fanart #the old guard fanart #I can´t believe it´s been a year since I´ve posted TOG fanart #a little while ago I suddenly felt the need to draw some random immortal husbands fluff #mainly to cheer myself up #and it was just really nice and familiar and comforting :)#joenicky #nickyjoe #nicky x joe #nicolò di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #q

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jeannineee · 9 months

Note

Hiii pls write some dorian fluff!! I swear there's like 5 dorian fics on this app 😭😭

Dramatic

Dorian Havilliard x Reader

a/n: requests are open!!

warnings: some suggestiveness at the end w Dorian’s invisible hands 😉, but that’s it

“That was the most ridiculous ending ever written,” Dorian muttered from behind you. His arms were wrapped around your waist, a book in his hand.

You laughed and tipped your head back, meeting his icy-blue eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I can’t believe I wasted two days of my life reading this book,” Dorian said, tossing it onto the end of the bed.

Another airy laugh escaped you as you turned to straddle him, and brushed your lips against his. “At least you spent the two days with me.”

“You’re the only thing that made them bearable.”

“So dramatic.”

“What was more dramatic was killing the main character at the end of the book.”

“I think it was poetic,” you murmured, twirling a finger through his dark locks of hair.

Dorian deadpanned. “It was poorly written.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright. Agree to disagree.”

Dorian gasped in mock-surprise, before grinning. “You’re not trying to be right for once?” He pressed a hand against your forehead, checking your temperature. “Are you unwell? Something must be off.”

You swatted his hand away, giggling. “Don’t be an ass.”

A light chuckle fell from his lips. “What? I’m nothing but nice to you.” He kissed you again, eyes darkening as he pulled away. “Except in certain…circumstances.”

Your heart fluttered, heat pooling in your core. “Oh? And what circumstances are those?”

“Circumstances you rather enjoy, if I’m remembering correctly,” Dorian mused, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your breath hitched as his invisible hands crept up your spine, one of them possessively wrapping around your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your exposed skin. “Perhaps I need a reminder.”

You could feel Dorian’s smirk against your skin as those invisible hands tightened their hold.

#throne of glass #tog #Dorian x reader #dorian havilliard #princeling #kingdom of ash #Dorian fluff #dorian havilliard x reader

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amara-moonlight · 3 months

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I found the fics i was looking for im unstoppable now muhaha 😈👹

anyway i might creat a list with all of them bc it was so annoying having to scroll down to find them

#bookblr #bookish #tog #acotar fluff #azriel x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #eris vanserra x reader #rhysand x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan x reader #thrown of glass #book quotes #acotar men #acotar #crescent city #thrown of glass fluff #thrown of glass x reader

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Note

Hello! I saw that your requests are open so I got one for you!! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy fic for either Ithan Holstrom or Fenrys Moonbeam (your pick!) X reader?

Reunited

Fenrys x Reader

A/n: I went with Fenrys bc there’s so little fics of him on here. It’s short but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: none, a little suggestive at the end

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Fenrys and you missed him a lot. Being Queen Aelin’s assistant has kept you busy though. It didn’t stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of him 100 times a day. His long blonde hair, his charming smile, all of him. Today though, he was finally coming home from his trip to Rifthold.

Aelin could tell you were anxious to see your boyfriend, she knew it was Rowan who was away for two weeks she would feel the same way. So like every other day she kept you extremely busy. By 5 o’clock in the evening you found yourself taking a break in the castle library. You were tapping your foot on the marble floor thinking that Fenrys should be back by now.

You were so lost in your thoughts and book you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. When you didn’t realize there was someone standing behind you the male cleared his throat. You jump, turning to face him, “Fenrys!”

The white wolf flashed you that charming smile, “Hi baby, I’m sorry I’m late.” It doesn’t even matter to you that he was late. He was home and that’s all that mattered to you. You jumped into his arms wrapping yourself around him. Fenrys spun you around, leaned his head down to rest on yours.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered into his neck, clinging to him as if he would disappear if you let go. “I missed you too, baby. I thought about you everyday I was gone.” You lifted your face to meet his striking onyx eyes. Fenrys leans down and slots his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss.

“Have you eaten yet you must be starving?” Fenrys rolls his eyes. Of course you’d ask that, you always worried about him. “No, I thought finding you was more important.” You scoff at him, “Well I for one am starving. Can we go have dinner?”

Fenrys was contemplating your request, “I don’t know,” he drawled, “can we eat in our rooms? I wanna dive right into dessert after.” You laughed hitting his chest. “You’re unbelievable sometimes ya know that.” Fenrys starts making his way to the doors of the library with you still in his arms. “I know I am. You tell me all the time baby.”

#throne of glass #throne of glass x reader #tog fanfic #throne of glass imagine #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #Fenrys moonbeam x reader #Fenrys fluff #aelin ashryver galathynius

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allyjoe755 · 10 months

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These Small Hours

fenrys x reader

A/N: Chosen by polls. If you would like another poll-chosen story, like/reblog/comment below

Word Count: 513

Warnings: slight PTSD.

o-o-o

You woke up to screams.

Big, horrible, gasping shrieks in the middle of the night.

Your eyes snapped open as adrenaline filled your chest, quickly spreading to the rest of your body.

Oh, Gods, please, no—

Lying beside you, Fenrys’ eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks wet with tears, his body dampened by sweat. His fingers raked across the sheets of the bed, his chest heaving with large breaths.

In your chest, your heart tore ever so slightly.

You placed a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, your thumb moving back and forth.

“Fenrys,” you began softly. “Fenrys, it’s alright.”

You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso.

“Fenrys, it’s just a dream. Fenrys.”

Even in his sleep, he shuffled to wrap an arm around you. It helped. His breathing was still quick and ragged, but slowly and surely, it was slowing. His cries were softer now. They would fade soon enough, you knew.

It helped to not wake him up during times like these. You had learned that the hard way, when you, not having experienced this before, had in a panic shaken him awake– causing his panic to grow, small injuries to occur, for him to lose substantial sleep for nearly a week.

You had apologized profusely for weeks after. Fenrys had only said that it was his fault the nightmares happened in the first place.

But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, and it had taken months to convince him of that. Even now, you were sure there were times when he still doubted. That was alright. You knew that it would take time.

Just like this. It had taken you so many times, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, to realize how to best support Fenrys when nights like these came.

So, for now, you just let your head rest on Fenrys’ chest. His cries had ended. You listened to his heartbeat slow back to an even, steady, calm rhythm. Your own body calmed down from its abrupt awakening as Fenrys breathed in and out, in and out.

Perhaps, in the morning, he would tell you what he had dreamt– the terrors that had visited him in the night. There were days he would, and days he wouldn’t. You didn’t push him.

He would heal in his own time. For now, you would walk alongside him through it.

In his sleep, Fenrys ran his hand down your arm until he found your hand. He squeezed it.

“I’m here,” you whispered back. You weren’t sure, if through his sleep, he heard you. In fact, you were quite positive that he couldn’t. Even still, you spoke the words– said them out loud, even if it was just to remind yourself that you weren’t going anywhere.

The man beside you was broken, and bruised, but it didn’t make him any less whole. It didn’t make him any less loved.

You pressed a kiss to the skin above Fenrys’ heart.

It didn’t make him any less capable of love.

“I’m here,” you repeated, before allowing yourself to fall back into sleep.

#writing #hurt/comfort #throne of glass #tog #fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #angst #fluff #fae #romance #fenrys x reader #fenrys x you

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

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Better or Worse {7}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! I'm sorry there was no new chapter last week - I was on vacation! x

Warnings: language.

“You like Gwyn?”

I’m laying on the bench, lifting, while Azriel spots me and Rhys stands near my feet, downing half a bottle of water.

“Seems nice enough,” I say, through clenched teeth. “Genuine.”

Azriel grabs the bar and guides it back to its resting place. It’s Rhysand that asks, “How’ve things been at home?”

I sit up, running a hand through my sweaty hair before pulling it back. “Weird. Not bad, but different, I guess. It feels like we’re just tiptoeing around each other all the time.”

“You need to fuck,” Rhys says, and Azriel snorts but Rhys is dead serious as he completely contradicts Gwyn’s earlier words.

Although I understand where Gwyn is coming from, I don’t think Rhys is wrong. Trying not to think of my wife’s naked body, I get a towel to clean off the bench before heading to one of the many treadmills for a run. I figure I’d get a mile in before joining my brothers in the steam room, then it’s home to make dinner for Nesta.

Hopefully we can find something substantial to talk about while we eat. I’m tired of smalltalk, it feels forced and I hate it. Not that it’s bad, it’s just…empty. I miss joking around and not being afraid to say exactly what’s on my mind, but I don’t feel like I can do that now. We’re not there yet.

“Hey, Cass.”

I look up from the treadmill I’ve just stepped onto to find a familiar face. I give her a lazy smile. “Hey.”

I’ve known Justine for a couple months now, since she’s joined the gym. We’re often here at the same time, both on similar schedules. She’s nice enough, although Rhys and Az think that her showing up when I’m here is no coincidence.

Maybe they’re not wrong.

“Haven’t seen you much this week,” she says, leaning against the equipment.

“Been busy.” I shrug. “Why? Miss me?”

She rolls her eyes in that way that girls have always rolled their eyes at me, that tells me they’re not really annoyed by anything I say or do. The only woman that’s ever truly been annoyed by me is the one that I married. Maybe that’s one of the things that drew me to Nesta, the fact that I could get under her skin. The tension it created that led to life altering sex.

“Just starting to think that you’re ignoring me,” she says, sweetly, leaning a little closer on the arm of the treadmill. Yeah, I know that move. Her breasts are suddenly a little more on display for only me to see.

I keep my eyes on hers. Try to, anyway. I mostly succeed. “I would never.”

The smile she gives me is sensual, and it’s all playful fun until she slides a finger up my forearm. I should ask her to stop, but it’s nice to be touched like that. It’s a simple touch, nothing too forward, but behind that touch lies a promise of something more. Rhys is right. I need to fuck. I’m a man, and I’m horny as hell, and my hand has only gotten me so far.

“You almost done here?” Justine asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Why don’t we…get some dinner?”

Her hand is on mine. The reality of what’s before me finally hits me. She doesn’t want dinner. I know what she wants. It’s obvious that food is the last thing on her mind. I pull my hand away and step off the treadmill, despite the fact that I never turned it on.

“I can’t,” I say, as politely as I can. “I’m sorry.”

She grabs my arm to stop me so I face her, and there’s hardly any room to breathe between us. “Can’t?”

“I’m married,” I say, as if that explains it all.

She looks down at the hand she was just holding. “I’ve never seen a ring.”

“I don’t wear it when I workout,” I say, simply, “but I can go get it from my bag and you can watch me put it back on, if you want.”

The words come out a little hostile and Justine’s eyes narrow. I blame it on the sexual frustration.

She says, “You’ve been married all this time and flirting with me for months? That’s a dick move, Cass.”

“I haven’t been flirting with you.” I know the words are a lie before they even leave my mouth.

She knows. “Liar,” she croons, and lays a hand against my chest. “I know you want me, Cass, married or not, I don’t care. Come on. Dinner. At my place.”

I take her hand and push it away, back down to her side. “No, thank you. I—”

I don’t get another word out before an obnoxiously loud smack sounds and my cheek starts stinging.

She fucking slaps me.

People around us all turn to stare as Justine says cocky jackass and storms off.

My brothers are nowhere to be found, so they must already be hiding in the steam room, which I’m glad of. Otherwise they would never let me live this not-so-proud moment down.

I send a text to our group chat, letting them know that I’m going to go ahead and go home. In the locker room mirror, there’s a red splotch on my cheek, barely seen beneath my scruff, but I’m hoping it fades quickly.

No, I don’t want to sleep with Justine.

I would never cheat on my wife, I never have, even at our worst.

But it was really fucking nice to be wanted.

By the time I walk into the house, I have been in my own head for far too long. The house is quiet as I walk in, only setting my nerves on edge. Greg is asleep on the couch in a shaft of late afternoon sun. I scratch his head as I walk by, but he doesn’t even stir and I chuckle under my breath.

Spoiled little shit.

As I ascend the stairs, I see the door to Nesta’s office is closed. For a second, I hesitate as I reach the top stair.

Before I left for the gym, we agreed that we’d have dinner and spend the evening together. Her edits would be done before I got home. She’s been better about limiting the amount of time she spends on her computer, whether that’s writing, editing, planning, or responding to her overflowing inbox. I’ve tried to be more open with my thoughts and feelings. It’s been an awkward few days, but we’re trying. It actually feels like we’re making progress, even after our disaster of a date.

Seeing her office door shut feels like a slap in the face and this one hurts a hell of a lot worse than Justine’s physical one.

My jaw is locked and I’m doing my best not to grit my teeth as I walk by, heading for the shower when I hear her voice through the door.

“They didn’t exactly give me the easiest turn around. They wanted rewrites on multiple chapters in days, Eris. I’ve got a lot going on right now and—”

She was cut off as her absolute dickwad of a manager interrupted her.

I have no clue what he says, but I know it must be bad when Nesta says, “I’m. Trying.”

I know that tone.

People fear that tone.

Another few seconds of silence goes by, then she says, “I’ll have it done. Alright?...Yeah. Yeah, no, I know, Eris, for fuck’s sake.” Her chair scoots back, and I take that as my cue to keep walking. Yeah, I want to know what’s going on, but if Nesta opens the door to find me while she’s already pissed, I don’t think she’ll like my prying. If she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it.

I take my time in the shower, but by the time I’m down in the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the fridge in my sweatpants, Nesta’s still on the damn phone. I can hear her pacing upstairs.

After cleaning a heap of green beans, I toss them with salt, olive oil, garlic powder, and parmesan before dropping them into a pan to roast alongside my marinated chicken. I’ve just opened a beer when I hear her office door open and she comes downstairs.

I don’t know what to say in greeting, so I raise my brow. She gives me an apologetic look, that quickly turns into her eyes wandering my body. Yeah, I didn’t wear a shirt for a reason. I want to know if my wife still finds me attractive, and it seems she does.

And I get hot when I cook.

Shirts are irrelevant.

“I thought I heard you come in.” Her eyes come back to mine. “Sorry, I know I said I’d be done—”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, saving her the trouble of explaining herself.

“Just, Eris…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just get pissed. How was the gym?”

Well, I got slapped in the face. “Good. I think I went a little too hard, though. A little sore. You sure you don’t want to talk about Eris?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth but shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin the night with my work issues.”

I set my beer down on the table and walk towards her. She doesn’t move. Even in leggings and an oversized tee, she’s stunning. “Nes, it’s okay to talk to me about your work, especially if that asshole’s being a dick to you.”

I want to hug her but I don’t.

I want to touch her, to kiss her, but I won’t.

Gwyn suggested we start with touches, physical contact, anything as long as it isn’t sex, of course, but Nesta hasn’t indicated she’s ready for that.

Hearing that your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you because she’s terrified to get pregnant and miscarry again is hard to hear. I don’t want to push her into anything she isn’t ready for, even if I’m desperate for her touch.

She swallows, looking at my chest, but I’m not sure she’s actually aware that she’s staring at me. “The publishing company asked for two chapters to be completely re-written for one book and four for another. Meanwhile, I’ve got edits I’m still working on for previous submissions and I just…” Shaking her head, she finally meets my gaze. “The timelines they give me aren’t realistic for one woman.”

I don’t hesitate before I speak, knowing my words could set her off, but needing to voice my thoughts.

Time to see if therapy really has taught us anything.

“To be fair, Nes, you set yourself up with some unrealistic expectations. You’ve released what? Three books already this year? And you’ve got how many in the editing process?”

It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t meant to point out that it was her own fault. It was the truth.

Something I would have said to her before everything went to shit.

With a sigh, Nesta closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest. “I know. That’s what he and I have been fighting about. I told him I can’t keep up with this kind of demand and he told me I did it to myself.”

I'm frozen in place. I heard what she said, but I’m floored by the feel of her skin on mine, by the contact that she initiated. I wrap my arms around her before I can second guess myself and rub a hand up and down her back.

“You have to do what’s best for you,” I say, processing what she said. “If he can’t understand that, if he can’t get the publishing company to understand, then fuck him.”

It’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever given, but honestly? My brain is shorting out, feeling Nesta’s body pressed against mine. She fits so perfectly against me, like she was made just for me.

“Easier said than done,” she murmurs, and looks up at me.

I could easily close the distance between us, could easily lean down and kiss her, and I really fucking want to but I contain myself.

At least until her hand comes up to rest on my chest. I brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and rub my thumb along her cheek. It feels so good to touch her but I’m nervous, worried that I’ll go too far, that I’ll do something wrong and mess up this progress we’ve seemed to make.

I remember now that we’ve been having a conversation but I can hardly remember what it was about much less how to respond. All I can focus on is her hand against my chest. Her being this close is driving me insane to the point that it’s nearly unbearable. I hope she doesn’t look down, doesn’t come closer, doesn’t feel how much such simple contact is affecting me.

Her eyes never leave mine.

Her lips part.

And I open my mouth to say her name, but then the smoke alarm is going off and I’m spewing every foul word in the English language.

I have no idea how long the food has been in the oven. At this point, I don’t even remember putting it in there.

I turn the oven off, clear the smoke, and reset the smoke alarm while standing on a chair in the kitchen.

And while I do this, Nesta is leaning against the counter, laughing hysterically. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard her laugh, but hearing it now makes every ounce of anger and embarrassment at ruining dinner disappear.

She’s laughing.

She’s happy.

Even if it’s all while making fun of me, the chef that nearly set the kitchen on fire.

Once her laughter finally dies down, she orders takeout, and we sit on the couch and eat it together, side by side.

#nessia #better or worse #bow #a snacmc collab #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #fanfic #acotar #fanfiction #nessian #acowar #acomaf #sjm #tog #angst #fluff #romance #nessian fanfiction #modern au #snacmc collabs

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live-the-fangirl-life · 8 months

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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

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deiaiko · 1 year

Text

#8 - Grief

Masterlist

Let me know your thoughts in the reblogs <3

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

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can i request some hurt/comfort for lorcan x chubby!reader? maybe her dealing with a bit of self esteem issues and lorcan praising her?

I hope it's okay this came out quite suggestive lol, it's just straight up body worship

Flawless

Lorcan x Reader

Warnings: reader is struggling with body image, not smut per say but Lorcan is definitely copping a feel so minors dni

Standing in your underwear, you stared at your body in the mirror - all you could see were the “flaws”. Most days you saw your curves for the beauty that they were, but today all you could see were what you had deemed as imperfections. Silver lined your eyes, tears threatening to spill when you grabbed at your upper thighs, focusing on how pronounced your cellulite was when you did so.

Your sniffles muffled the sound of the door opening, Lorcan standing in the frame as he watched you judge your body in the mirror - the beautiful body that he ached to worship. A combination of lust and protective nature took over him as he crossed the room to stand behind you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to hide as you made eye contact with Lorcan through the reflection of the mirror, but he gently grabbed your arms, pulling them to the sides as his eyes raked hungrily over you.

You flushed with embarrassment at his unabashed desire, your wiggling against his grip only pushing you further into his body as you were met with his evident arousal at your back. Lorcan groaned as you pressed against him, holding your wrists to the side as the two of you watched your body react to his touch. He released your wrists, sliding his hands to your breasts, massaging them as he kissed down your neck, leaving visible marks on your skin as he claimed you as his own.

He twisted your nipples, watching as you gasped in the mirror - a smirk on his face as he whispered, “I love when you look at me like that.” You blushed further, watching in a daze as one of his hands trailed further south, moving in comforting circles around your stomach. Lorcan knelt down behind you, at level with your waist as he kissed your hips. “I love how soft your skin is,” he murmured before leaving another mark on your hips, squeezing the fat of your ass as he hummed in appreciation. His hands slid down your legs, rubbing softly along your thighs as he practically growled, “and these damn legs - every time I see them, all I can think about is how I want them wrapped around my head while you writhe beneath me.”

An involuntary moan escaped you at his words, and you found yourself short of breath as Lorcan stood, playfully smacking your ass as he bent down to press a kiss to your cheek. “You are so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, watching your still doubtful reaction in the mirror.

Lorcan arched an amused brow at you. “Ah, you need me to show you how much I love this body, hm?” He chuckled as he tossed you effortlessly onto the bed, the beginning of a long night ahead of you.

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rowaelinsdaughter · 3 months

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could i request rowaelin x reader, fluff where she has a horrible nightmare about them and they reassure her that it never happened and they just cuddle up with her PLS WIFEY🧎🏽‍♀️💔💗

NIGHTMARE

WARNINGS;; written in 3rd person, nightmares, blood, whip, trowing up, KOA SPOILERS

she woke up in another room. not the one she loved in the orynth castle. no. she was in a room that she hated and that sometimes, hunted her dreams.

she knew that chair. it was the same chair where her father had chained her mother, forcing her to watch how he whipped her. she wore the scars, the same one’s aelin had once on her back. aelin. her mate, and rowan. they were her mates.

she looked for them in the room, but it was too dark, so dark that she couldn’t see her feet. but then a faint light appeared in front of her. blood. so much blood that it looked like valg blood, a sound, a whip sound. the light grew stronger, and in front of her…

“no” she whispered “no, no, no, no,...”

she tried to break the chains, but it was impossible, she was forced to watch as her father whipped rowan. his arms were bound to the roof with iron chains, so he couldn’t use his powers to defend himself… and aelin. because aelin… she didn’t want to look to the ground, knowing what she was going to see, but a hand grabbed her neck and forced her to look at the ground.

a scream ripped her throat.

aelin was on the ground. a thin nightgown covered her body, or had covered her body, she couldn’t see her face, the iron mask she once carried, was hiding her beautiful features. and her back… she let her guts out to the floor. there was so much blood, so many wounds from the whip, she couldn’t even see the tattoo rowan inked on her. the hand on her neck tightened.

“let’s have some fun” she felt his wicked smile.

she started screaming again. a distant voice was calling her name, but she couldn’t hear it. the voice was approaching, her name more clear now…

she woke up again. this time there wasn’t blood, her father wasn’t there, she wasn’t chained to the chair, and her mate’s…

a cold wind tried to calm her, she knew that wind and the scent that lingered with it… rowan.

a soft voice called her name… aelin.

but the nightmare… she got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, but it was too far. she fell to her knees, throwing up again, and again. two pairs of hands were rubbing her back, the same cold wind tried to calm her. once she was done, aelin grabbed her arms pulling her to her body, wrapping her body with her. rowan hugged both of them. and then she started crying again.

minutes, hours… she didn’t know how much time had passed until she calmed down enough to talk, or not.

“you want to talk about it?” aelin said. her voice soft, as if she would disappear if she raised her voice. she looked at her, and aelin felt her heart ache, there was so much pain in those eyes… she took her hand, playing with the ring she wore when they married, the same rowan and she wore.

“you were dead” rowan and aelin tensed. “and rowan… was nearly dead. he… he whipped you, both of you, and…” she sobbed “and i was chained to the chair, i couldn’t move, i couldn’t do anything to save you. you were wearing the mask and your back… there was so much blood, i-” she didn’t finish.

rowan grabbed her by the legs and shoulders, laying her down on the bed again. his arm was on her waist and aelin traced patterns on her arm. when she was more calm, rowan murmured. “we aren’t going to leave, doll. you hear me?? we are going to be here for you, we are going to live for a thousand years with you, and if something happens, we will find you. we will always find you angel. always.” he kissed her forehead. she turned in his arms so she was facing aelin, a silver line in her eyes.

“can you tell me the story?” aelin didn’t ask what story she was asking for.

“of course angel” she grabbed her hand, and she felt rowan behind her, moving closer to her body.

“once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess, who loved her kingdom very much…”

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies

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highqueenofelfhame · 11 months

Text

a/n: i'm so sorry this one took so long to get out. it's very dialogue heavy and i struggle with dialogue and it was a tough one. i hope it was worth the wait.

rowaelin // 5k words // ciwyw masterlist // masterlist

The sun was barely above the horizon, and Aelin was already awake. Nothing but her ceiling fan and Rowan’s deep, even breathing filled the room around them as she reached for her phone and began mindlessly scrolling on social media.

Cocooned within his arms and surrounded by his scent, her nausea hadn’t been what kept her awake. It was just after eight and her body was so used to waking up for work that it refused to let her drift back into a land of sweet dreams. At least Rowan was still snoozing. He needed it as much as she did.

Upon opening twitter, she opened trending topics to see what juicy gossip was making the rounds today. A few politicians were popular for no good reason, and a handful of celebrities were having their looks celebrated per usual. Third from the bottom, however, she stopped and stared.

ROWAN WHITETHORN

His name glared at her in all capital letters, a bit of text beneath it reading: trending with Aelin Galathynius and Aedion Ashryver

Oh, gods.

The trending tag was bombarded with articles from tabloids and fan tweets, the same few pictures circulating along with them. The photo of Rowan with the little boy at dinner was the main one, but she quickly understood why her name was attached when she saw the others.

All of them were grainy, but Rowan and Aelin were no less identifiable. His arm was around the back of her chair in each picture. One he was leaning toward her and saying something in her ear. She could easily imagine that it was him asking if she was okay for the thousandth time. In another, she was pointing at Aedion with a fork, laughter dancing in her eyes while she gazed at Rowan, lips parted around words.

Aelin looked down at the tattooed arm draped over her side and the hand that rested on her stomach. There was no way for her to know how he would react to this, especially not so early in the morning. It was starting to settle over her heavily as her phone began buzzing in her palm.

MOM flashed on her screen, a picture of her and her mother from Yulemas last year bright in her face. Aelin sighed and began extricating herself from Rowan, lifting his arm and rolling out from beneath him. It would be quicker to just move over his body in order to avoid missing her mom’s call so she began crawling over him.

So abruptly it startled a squeal from deep in her chest, Rowan launched into a sitting position just as her toes hit the ground. With his eyes still closed as he asked, a little too loudly, “Are we sick?”

The commotion had her phone slipping from her hands and careening toward the ground. With reflexes no human man should possess, Rowan’s leg darted beneath the blanket and somehow managed to catch the phone with his foot before it shattered on the floor. Aelin gaped at him as he picked it up and handed it to her. His godsdamn eyes were only cracked open, what the f—

“Hi, Mom. One second.” She sandwiched the phone between her ear and shoulder, ignoring the huffy sigh from her mother. “I’m fine, spiderman. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m up,” he argued, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Despite his words, Rowan was very much not awake. Squinty green eyes took in every inch of her body as she stood up and started walking backward to the door. She was still gawking at him as he followed after her and rubbed at his face.

“Seriously, how did you do that?” A sleepy smile formed on his face and Mala above, she wanted to kiss it until it was a full blown grin.

“It’s kind of my job, love,” he teased.

“That doesn’t happen to be Rowan Whitethorn, does it, love?” Evalin drawled, clearly having heard what Rowan called her. That little pet name that tied her veins into pretty ribbons to make her heart pound against her bones.

Shit. She was in deep fucking shit.

“Yes. Yes, that is Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin replied, Rowan towering over her as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his lips to the top of her head. It was so short and sweet that she almost wondered if it had really happened as he slipped past her and padded into the kitchen.

“And when were you going to tell me about this?” Her mother demanded. Aelin could vividly picture her pacing with one hand on her hip and the other whipping sharply through the air as she spoke.

“Technically, I did tell you.”

“You told me you were sleeping with someone. There was no indication about who it was.” The name had been left out, sure, but she had only known him as Rowan and, at the time, it was entirely too soon to tell her mother all the details.

“I mean, we were? Rowan and I are in a… situationship.” The man in question turned to look at her, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Aelin grimaced.

“What the hell does that even mean?!” Evalin cried.

“Did I just get demoted?” Rowan turned and looked at her, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Aelin shook her head at him while biting back a laugh.

“We’re seeing each other. We’re dating. He’s my boyfriend. Right?” She looked at Rowan amidst her rising panic over her mothers frantic, betrayed voice. He walked over, placing a glass of water in front of her, and leaned against the counter. Two fingers swept hair behind her ears and ran down the side of her neck. Something about his touch was a cooling balm to her nerves. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s just… it’s complicated. I was going to tell you—”

“What, when you got married?! I found out from news articles and your father getting questions about it this morning, Aelin.”

“I was going to call you this morning after everyone woke up because like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Don’t tell me you already eloped.” Rowan was grinning while he eavesdropped. Aelin reached out and punched his stomach only to be met with rock hard muscle.

“No! Gods above, Mama. No. Not— fucking hell this is worse than I thought it would be,” she grumbled, forehead thumping against her boyfriend’s chest. Rowan’s hand stroked over the back of her head sympathetically. “Can we switch to video? This is too much to do over the phone while I can’t see your face.”

The frustration in her words was evident when her voice cracked. When her mom accepted the video call, her features were soft. If she had been in Varese with her, Aelin knew her mother’s fingers would be stroking her hair to calm her down, the same way Rowan was now threading his fingers through the golden strands.

“Can you please put a shirt on before I put you in frame?” She asked, watery eyes turning onto his face.

“I’m a bit more worried about you than I am about clothing right now, love.”

“You can’t meet my mom like this.” Rowan’s eyes traced her face and body long enough that she sighed. “I’ll be fine for the thirty seconds it takes you to get there and back.”

“Baby,” her mother cut in, worry clouding her features. Aelin looked away from Rowan as he jogged across the apartment. “You’re scaring me.”

“Because I’m scared. Of everything and your reaction and what Dad is going to say and— all of it is scary.” The worst part was that she wasn’t even entirely sure why she was crying. On a normal day, hard conversations were difficult, of course, but nothing she had ever cried over. Her parent’s gave her unconditional love. There wasn’t a worry in her mind that she would ever cease to be the center of their entire world. These hormones were going to kill her.

When Rowan came back, he picked up her water and pulled on her hand until she stood, leading her toward the couch. Evalin was quiet and patient while he got her tucked in with a blanket and settled beside her. His face held no judgment as he brushed tears from her cheeks.

“Everything’s okay,” he promised her, pointer finger bumping beneath her chin. Aelin smiled a little and shook her head before arranging her phone so her mom could see him.

“Mama, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my Mom, Evalin.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Mrs—”

“You’ll call me Evalin,” she interrupted with the wave of her hand. Rowan smiled and nodded once before looking back at Aelin.

“It’s good to meet you, Evalin,” he repeated, trying her name out for the first time. Aelin’s mother beamed and the anxiety that was creeping and crawling over her nerves paused for the time being.

“Is Dad around?”

“Right here, Fireheart,” Rhoe slid into view, immediately frowning when he took in her tear streaked face.

“Before you start, I’m not crying because of Rowan. I mean, technically I am, but it’s not anything bad. Rowan, my father Rhoe, Dad, I’m sure you already know him, but this is my boyfriend Rowan Whitethorn.”

“We’ve met a few times actually,” Rowan chimed in, lifting a hand in greeting. “It’s nice to see you, sir.”

“You too, son.” So far, so good. Both of her parents were smiling and Rowan was a steadying weight beside her. Somehow he felt more at ease than she did. Aelin just had to get the next part out without falling apart. A deep and almost cleansing breath filled her lungs as she looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Gods, this was ridiculous.

“We um…” Aelin exhaled and looked at Rowan who nodded encouragingly. “I want to start off by saying that this is still really new. Our relationship and everything attached to it is really new. And I really was planning to call you today. I decided on that well before the news broke this morning.”

“Sweetheart. Just say it,” her mother said, giving Aelin a knowing look. Of course Evalin had it figured out before she had even tried to search her brain for a coherent sentence. Hell, she had probably known the entire time.

“We’re having a baby.” Aelin’s lip quivered, and Rowan reached over to lace their fingers with the hand that wasn’t around her shoulders. She sunk into him, resting her head on his shoulder while gnawing on her lip.

“Not planned, I take it,” her father tried to joke, and despite the tears that had sprung free, Aelin laughed.

“No. Definitely not planned but not a bad thing either.”

“I knew it as soon as you spit out that piece of candy a few weeks ago.” Evalin beamed, dabbing at her eyes with the pocket square she had stolen from Rhoe’s suit. “Are you happy?”

“Yes. Scared as hell, but I’m happy. Are…” Aelin looked at Rowan, “You’re happy, yeah? Now isn’t the time to ask but we haven’t really addressed that.”

“I’m very happy,” he promised, leaning in to kiss her temple. Aelin let out a shaky breath and laughed again, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeves.

“I was an emotional wreck the entire time I was pregnant with you. I’m sorry that I passed it along.” To her credit, Evalin did look a little sorry. Aelin had grown up hearing about it off and on. Rhoe frequently reminded her that she was a spitfire from the moment of conception.

“The hormones are a bitch. And the morning sickness? It’s all the time and it’s awful.” The only time she didn’t seem to be heaving the entire contents of her stomach was when Rowan was there to soothe it away. Sure, she had been sick a few times over the weekend, but something about the way he smelled seemed to keep it at bay for the most part. Human bodies were so bizarre.

“You are supposed to come home in a few months,” Rhoe wondered out loud. Rowan seemed to stiffen a little beside her. “Are your plans changing in that regard?”

“I don’t know,” Aelin admitted with a shrug and a sigh. “I’m working every day that I feel able to. Except for today and yesterday because Lysandra put Aedion on a plane. The bastard is still asleep right now, actually, but I am keeping up with work. Usually just half days because I’m exhausted and sick all the time. And Rowan is so busy with the season we only see each other on the weekends. If I come home when I was supposed to, though, I’m sure his teammates and fans would be thrilled if he stopped getting red cards.”

“If you think I’m going to play better while you’re pregnant on another continent, you’re insane.” Her parents chuckled, but she knew how serious he was. Rowan tended to worry to the extreme and her being away wouldn’t help.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get closer to it. How’s that?” Aelin looked up at him and he nodded. It would have to do for now. There was too much going on with Fireheart for her to abandon her responsibilities entirely, baby or no baby.

“Is there anything you need from us?” Her father asked, concern heavy in his brow. Not that she could think of, and she said as much.

“Between Rowan and Aedion, it’s all covered. Plus Lys is coming at the end of the week when Aedion leaves. I have my first appointment next week. I did have a blood draw that confirmed the pregnancy because I was so sick I couldn’t keep anything down. Lysandra berated me into an ER visit. They gave me some nausea medicine that seems to be helping, but we’ll know more about the baby next week. I’m not even really sure how far along I am aside from the basic math of when we met.”

“When you met?” Evalin’s eyebrows flew toward the sky and Aelin choked.

“Sometime around then,” she tried to save her prior phrasing, but her mom saw straight through it. Rhoe, on the other hand, looked eager to think about anything but his daughter’s sex life.

“What the hell are you already doing awake?” Aedion grumbled from the hall, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled into the room.

“FaceTime with Mom and Dad.” Her manicured hand patted the open seat next to her.

“Oh shit, already? I thought it would be this afternoon.” Aedion dropped down beside her and leaned in, waving to his aunt and uncle.

“Well. Mom found out about me and Rowan before I could even call her. Pictures of us from last night seem to be making the rounds all over the internet.” Rowan’s head whipped toward her, eyes wide and lips parted. His mouth was moving to form words, but before he could get an apology out she added, “It’s okay.”

The apology came anyway, and Aelin’s eyes jumped from his face to her mom and dad’s. Evalin’s lip quivered at the sincerity and Rhoe looked like he respected the man even more already.

Aedion reached around to pat Rowan’s shoulder sympathetically. “It comes with the territory. Surely you know how famous you are.”

“I mean, sure, when I’m playing.”

“Oh, you sweet child,” Evalin mused, causing Aelin to crack a wide grin. Their family knew better than anyone that certain athletes tended to sky-rocket into full on celebrity status. The tweets she had seen about all of them showed that tenfold.

“Rowan, you are quite literally a superstar,” Aedion told him. “You aren’t just huge on the field. Surely someone has mentioned to you that you’re insanely famous.”

“My agent and PR team are always nagging me to go to events and get on social media but… no one has ever really…” Rowan trailed off at the looks on everyones faces. Aelin was holding back a grin, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“Baby, you’re kind of a big deal. And your face and body really don’t hurt,” Aelin told him, squeezing his hand. “Like people were so excited that someone saw you out and about.”

“I– what?”

“Okay, I think Aedion and I need to give Rowan a crash course in his fame. I’ll call you later?” Aelin said to her parents, who nodded in agreement.

“We love you. And we are absolutely thrilled about a grandbaby,” Evalin swore, a sentiment that Rhoe repeated almost verbatim. A weight lifted from her chest as she once again felt like fighting off tears.

“I love you,” she choked out just before ending the call, and then she was fully slumping into Rowan’s side. Giggles bubbled out of her all over again as she looked up at him. “I can’t believe you don’t know how famous you are.”

“What are people saying?”

“This one is my favorite.” Aedion showed Rowan a screenshot of his phone. It was a tweet that read: Look, I know we’re excited that 1. Rowan was out for once and 2. That he was spotted with sOCCER PRINCESS AELIN GALATHYNIUS??? But can we just talk about how good Aedion Ashryver looks?

A choked sound came out of Aelin before she could stop it, snickering following immediately after. Of course that would be his favorite.

She quickly opened the app, letting Rowan scan through news headlines and fan tweets while she peered at the screen with him. Most of them were good. A lot of the fans seemed to be happy about their potential romantic link. A few expressed their distaste, saying that Aelin was chasing fame after falling into irrelevancy. Those made her laugh, but Rowan didn’t seem to find the humor in it.

“They shouldn’t be talking about you like that,” he grit out. Aelin merely shrugged her shoulders.

“You can’t win them all. I’ve always been a little polarizing amongst the soccer community, anyway.” Gods, if that wasn’t the truth she didn’t know what was.

A lot of people accused her of nepotism and everything that fell under that umbrella. Yes, she was a nepo baby. But she was doing her best to make her own way in the world without relying too heavily on what her parents had built. Starting Fireheart was the first step of that and while they had contributed financially, it had been her idea. They just backed it with money when she needed the initial boost. Aelin liked to think that, relevant or not, she was using her name and generational wealth to put good back into the world.

“I had no idea I was this… big,” Rowan murmured, finally handing her phone back to her. There was an innuendo that Aelin’s childish mind couldn’t ignore. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to bite back a laugh. “I knew Fenrys was, but he feeds into it. He likes the attention. I just assumed that since I stayed out of everything that didn’t have to do with the game, I was just known for playing.”

“There are girls that are dying to be me right now.” Aelin was grinning, but Rowan still wore a displeased frown. “Hey. It’s really okay. It was going to come out eventually and we don’t have to confirm or deny anything yet.”

“The thought of having to publicly comment on my personal life is so irritating.”

“Your comments can just come in the form of agreeing with what I put on social media or whatever statements I put out. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, Rowan. People are going to speculate regardless, and while I would eventually like to talk about us, I don’t have to.” She shrugged like it was simple. It wasn’t, but she would make it as easy for him as she could. Rowan sighed and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “I bet you’re wishing you went back to sleep when I told you to, huh?”

“You shut up,” he murmured, a playful bite to his words.

“People did find your instagram, by the way. And you’re only following me,” Aelin pointed out. “Maybe today we can post a picture or something and follow at least your teammates?”

“You’d help me with that?” Rowan looked surprised.

“Of course. I’m really good at social media. We’ll get you all set up before you go home later. I’ll even help you with everything you want to post. It’s not like I won’t be around to help you out for the next eighteen years at least.” Rowan squeezed her hand in thanks, his lips finally tipping into a smile at her joke. A bit of relief flowed through her at his smile. “With that settled, I’m going to shower and I believe you promised me chocolates.”

“That I did.” Rowan pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles as she stood and headed walked toward the bathroom.

Everything with her parents had gone exactly as expected. The fact that they were happy about it despite the circumstances meant the world to her. Having that support in her back pocket at all times, no matter what was more important than she would ever let on. Rowan blended seamlessly in the conversations and she could only imagine how charming he would be when they officially met in person.

Everything was still beyond terrifying, but she tentatively felt like everything was going to be okay. She hoped, anyway.

~*~

“I want to talk to you about something,” Aedion said, waiting to speak until the shower was on and the soft thud of the shower door indicated she was inside. Her cousin leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together as he looked over at Rowan. “She would kick my ass if she found out, so please don’t mention it for the time being.”

“I’m all ears.” Rowan had been expecting this. The two hadn’t spent any time together alone thus far, and since he was more like a brother than anything else, he’d anticipated the big brother talk. It had only been a matter of when, not if.

“Aelin has… Gods, she’s been through some shit. I don’t know how much she’s told you about her last relationship, but it did a fucking number on her. For years she was a shell of herself and it was rare to even get her to smile. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t start acting like herself until she met you.”

“What do you mean? She seemed in good enough spirits when I met her,” Rowan said, thinking back to the spitfire woman in the bar. Aedion’s head shook.

“Aelin has always been good at putting on a front. We call it her insufferable swagger. While it’s part of who she is, it lacks a certain edge. Being able to rile you up about soccer was likely just part of that,” her cousin explained, scratching at his jaw. “Once she started telling Lysandra about you, something was different. The first call they had after, Lys burst into tears as soon as they were off the phone. Normally she keeps Aelin’s secrets, but she couldn’t even keep it from me because she was so happy that she just seemed normal.”

“I can’t take credit for any of that.”

“Maybe not. But we all think you sparked something in her. You brought her back to life, Rowan. Even just being here, it feels like Aelin, not the person she tried to be to make us not worry about her. There were times when she told us she felt like dying. That she would never try, but she was drowning and dying sounded like the more peaceful option. Constantly she told us how tired she was, and she never meant physically. It was the kind of exhaustion you feel deep in your bones that feels suffocating. But once you walked into the picture, everything about her has been different.”

Rowan turned the words over carefully, lips twisting while he considered. Aelin had always been the same to him, but he could see what Aedion meant in some ways. Now she was much sharper with her teasing tongue. It had him wondering if things would have been different without a troubled past relationship.

None of it sat well with him. The idea of Aelin withdrawing into herself and withering away to fragile, dried petals made him want to hit something. That anyone had ever dampened her golden light was beyond him. It took a special kind of asshole to do that to a strong and brilliant woman. He didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Aedion had a little more to give.

“I can’t stand to see her go back to that place. I like you, Rowan. I do. But if I think for a single second that you’re not good for her or the baby I will not hesitate in beating the absolute shit out of you.”

“If you come to that conclusion, I would probably be in agreement. I’d let you.” It was the truth. Might even outright ask for it. Rowan had always accepted the punishments that he deserved.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Aedion murmured, finally relaxing enough to sit back against the couch. The shower shut off moments later, the sounds of Aelin readying for the day filling in the silence.

When she finally opened the door, makeup and hair done with a robe wrapped around her body, she chirped, “Chocolate?”

“Yeah,” Rowan chuckled. “Chocolate.”

~*~

While they ate lunch at a little cafe downtown, Aelin had helped him make his first ever Instagram post. It was a picture of him leaning back in his chair, looking out at the bustling city around them. Despite feeling that he always looked awkward in photos, this one looked natural and candid. Aelin called him her boyfriend again and he was smiling when she snapped the winning shot. So far it had amassed several thousand likes and comments. Rowan wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.

Three dozen chocolate truffles and several bakery items later, Aelin and Rowan wandered back into the apartment. Aedion had let them go out alone for some time together. Now that he knew people were eager to sneak photos of him, he noticed cell phones turned their direction all morning. It was hard to not be frustrated about it, but Aelin’s touch was a soothing balm to the rising anger. If she wasn’t bothered he would try his hardest not to be, too.

“I probably need to go soon,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed while she shucked off her leggings and pulled on a pair of little shorts. A sullen look pulled on her features as she stood between his legs, hands resting on his neck.

“Would it work if I said that I want you to stay?” Nails lightly scratched at his scalp and it was an effort to keep his eyes from slipping shut.

“It would make it harder for me to leave, but I do have practice in the morning. I can’t be late.” Never mind that he wished it weren’t the case. If she outright asked, he probably would stay and then hate himself for it tomorrow.

“Fine,” she sighed, hands sliding down his shoulders. Rowan wasn’t sure what it was about her touch, but it drove him mental in the best way. The loss of her skin on his was a new kind of hell he hadn’t known existed until he met her. “I have a scan next week. Do you want to go with me?”

“Do you want me to be there?” If she didn’t, he wouldn’t go. It might kill him a little, but he would stay away if it was what she wanted.

“I obviously want you there. Otherwise I wouldn’t have told you about it. That wasn’t my question. ” Ah, there was that sass Aedion had talked about earlier.

“I want to,” he swore, fingers trickling up and down her outer thighs. A smile took over her entire face and damn him, he couldn’t help his own grin to match.

“It’s Thursday afternoon. I can text you the details about where so you can meet me there from practice.” Rowan nodded as he collected the few things he brought with him and followed her out to the living room.

“It was good to meet you, man,” He told Aedion, the two bumping fists casually. Aelin was smiling while she watched, her fingers covering her mouth like an eager child.

“Hopefully I can make the trip over here again soon.” Rowan would genuinely enjoy that. Aedion seemed cool and cared so much about his cousin that he doubted he would ever have anything negative to say about the man.

Aelin led him to the front door, their loosely linked fingers swinging between them. Unable to help himself, he pushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes hid a secret smile as she gazed up at him. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I’ll see you Thursday, then?”

Rowan nodded, “And I’ll talk to you every day in between.” It felt a little cheesy to say it out loud, but Aelin’s smile was enough to chase away the self consciousness he felt.

She stopped him with a hand around his wrist as he turned to open the door. When he turned back to look at her, Aelin rocked up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He had a feeling she knew it was a teasing move. Those brilliant turquoise and gold eyes confirmed it when she pulled away, mirth swimming in their depths. Such a cruel, beautiful thing she was.

“Drive safe,” she said, one more little smile shared between them before he walked out the door and began his short trip back to Doranelle.

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