#rowaelin kiddos
Note
Here's a prompt
Rowan as a stay home dad or just getting out of his job and going to pick up their children from school and all the teachers and mothers drooling after him
Thx💚
i mean, Rowan is canonically a dilf, right? ;)
word count: 1,558
warnings:
enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every afternoon when he drove over to the elementary school to pick up his kids, Rowan wished to all things holy that his car had all tinted windows, because gods above, the staring was going to be the death of him. It was all he could do to climb out of the car and walk over towards the playground to collect his children without dearly wanting to crawl into the blacktop pavement and die from embarrassment.
Children everywhere, and still the parents and even the teachers had eyes for nothing but him.
But he had to go and physically check out his kids, because they were all too young to check themselves out and go to their dad’s car. They had to be in fourth grade or above to do that, or have an older sibling in fourth grade or above, and his oldest was still only in third grade.
Today, it was like the usual “sneaky” glances had been amplified by a thousand as he strode across the blacktop to where his daughter’s class was waiting in their line. He swore there was even a muffled wolf whistle that followed him as he passed a certain cluster of moms, all of them in their twenties, all of them blatantly sweeping their false-lashed gazes up and down his form.
“Afternoon, Mr. Whitethorn.” one of the bolder moms simpered, smirking flirtatiously at him.
Rowan grunted something that sounded vaguely like a hello.
“Guess he doesn’t speak much,” the mom murmured to her friends, just loud enough for him to hear.
“That one doesn’t need to speak,” smirked another mom. “One word and I’d do anything he tells me, oh yes I would.”
“And you’d do it with a ‘yes, sir,’ wouldn’t you?” the first mom snickered.
The cluster of mamas broke into giggles and snorts. Rowan locked his jaw and kept going, imagining all the things his brilliant accountant wife would have to say to the moms if and when she ever came to pick up her kids. God, he wished Aelin were here, wished he could watch her grin her vicious grin as she no doubt retorted with something that would leave the smirking moms in complete and utter shock as well as leave him with a mighty blush.
“Dad!” His oldest daughter’s voice broke through his thoughts as she waved to him from her class line.
“Hey, Lana.” Rowan closed the distance between her and where he’d been standing, nodding casually at her teacher.
Who blushed like a schoolgirl as she checked Lana’s name off on her list.
“Have a lovely day, Mr. Whitethorn!” the young woman crooned, blushing up to her ears.
Hell, Rowan groaned internally, the teachers too?!
Lana was apparently oblivious, tugging on his hand. “C’mon, Dad! We gotta go pick Bran up!”
“I haven’t forgotten, Lana,” he chuckled, allowing his eight-year-old to pull him in the direction of Brannon’s first-grade class. “Hey, buddy!”
“Dada!” Bran yelled, running to his father as fast as his six-year-old legs could carry him, rules of checking out be damned. “Wanna see my new band-aid?”
“Slow down there, B,” Rowan laughed, nodding to his son’s teacher. The older woman nodded back, checking off Bran’s name on her clipboard.
“Don’t let that one near the slides for a few days,” she called, winking at Bran. Rowan had been a fan of the teacher the minute he and Aelin met her on their son’s first day, the woman’s obvious love for teaching and affection for the kids she taught evident in the way she structured her class and treated no child any differently than the others.
“Noted,” Rowan grinned, huffing a soft laugh. “Bud, you been going down the slide on your tummy again?”
“Nooooooo.” Bran widened his eyes into the portrait of innocence.
Kid got that one from his mother, he did.
“You have to be careful, Bran,” Rowan reminded the boy, ruffling his hair. “Show me the band-aid when we get home, yeah?”
“It’s Batman!” Bran crowed, beaming like it was an achievement.
Lana snorted. “It’s still ’cause you got hurt.” She tugged on Rowan’s hand again, pulling him towards the parking lot. “You’re so slow, Dad!” she complained. “We still gotta get Emmy from daycare.”
“Like we do every day,” Rowan added, clicking the button to unlock the car so his kids could clamber into their seats. With some pushing and shoving, as the little one always did.
Some ten minutes later, they pulled up to the daycare building and all piled out, the kids running ahead of Rowan to push the automatic door button. They were obsessed with automatic doors lately, taking every chance to go through a sliding door at a store and press all the buttons whenever they saw one.
Rowan ducked his head into the door of Emmy’s room, his youngest daughter spotting him immediately and sprinting to him with all the speed her three-year-old self could muster. “Dada Dada!”
“Hi, baby!” Rowan beamed, swooping her up into his arms. “You have a good day?”
“Lot better now that he’s here,” one of the teachers whispered from her seat by the door.
The other one snickered. “Who needs Tinder when you’ve got eyes on a real life catfish?”
For the umpteenth time since going to pick up his kids, Rowan felt his face start to burn. Even the daycare teachers couldn’t let a day go by without commenting on his appearance. And they were young, younger than the teachers at the elementary school, so it really was like avoiding teenagers.
“Thanks,” he threw over his shoulder as he herded his children out to the car.
“Dada I paint!” Emmy declared, thrusting a paper in his face.
He laughed, buckling her into her carseat. “Hold it a little farther away, sweetheart. Dada can’t tell what pretty picture you made if it’s so close to my eyeballs.”
Emmy giggled. “Is puppy!”
“It’s beautiful, baby.”
The puppy was extremely...colorful. Yes. Colorful.
And yes, he’d be hanging it up on the fridge when they got home. One simply did not put his children’s artwork anywhere else.
Twenty minutes later, they were piling out of the car and racing inside, the older ones shoving each other aside to claim the prize of pounding up the stairs like any herd of elephants while Emmy squirmed and wriggled in Rowan’s arms, demanding a snack. He just kissed her blonde head and let her run around the living room with her siblings while he got some snacks out.
The snacks, of course, were gone in under ten minutes. Because his children had inherited Aelin’s eating habits along with her irresistible puppy eyes.
And then the Whitethorn kids made their way out to the backyard, running and yelling and expending all the energy they suddenly had. Rowan watched them fondly through the kitchen window as he prepared dinner, only having to duck outside once when Lana tripped over something and all three kids somehow ended up in a pile of arms and legs and disgruntled squawking on the grass.
Aelin’s car pulled into the driveway just as he’d called all of them in to wash up for dinner, which was forgotten as soon as their mother walked into the house.
“Mama!” Emmy screeched, throwing herself at Aelin, her little arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
“Hi, lovey,” Aelin laughed, winking at Rowan as she stooped down to hug her baby. “What did you paint today?”
“Puppy!” Emmy proudly showed Aelin the newest fridge decoration.
“I got a Batman band-aid!” Bran declared proudly, displaying his scraped knee and the Batman bandage atop it.
Aelin pressed her lips together to squash down her mirth. “What have we discussed about you coming home wearing more band-aids, Brannon?”
“It was an accident!” he protested. “And I’m fine, Mama!”
“Bet you are,” she snickered, kicking out of her heels and kissing her son’s messy head before rolling onto her toes to kiss Rowan. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi, my love.” He took Emmy into his arms. “Let’s let Mama wash up too, yeah?”
“I hungry!”
“Yeah, and you have to wash your hands before dinner, right, little one?”
“With soap!” Lana chirped, pushing her brother back into the bathroom. “You never use soap, Bran.”
“Do too!” he yelled.
“Whoa there,” Rowan interrupted, breaking them apart before either one could smack the other. “Can I see your hands, Bran?” His son reluctantly held up his hands.
“I washed,” he mumbled.
“With soap?”
No response.
“Want to wash up in the kitchen sink?”
“Yeah!”
So Rowan held him up to reach the kitchen sink and let him scrub his hands that way. Aelin grinned, brushing a kiss onto his jaw as she passed to go change.
“Marry a man who’ll raise your kids right, they said,” she teased.
“Not you too,” Rowan groaned.
Her laugh echoed through the house. “School moms checking you out again, Ro?”
“When are they not?” he grumbled.
She winked. “Ain’t none of them got a real life, don’t worry about what they and the margarita they drank right before they came to the school say.”
He snorted. “Touché, Fireheart.”
She blew him a kiss. “Don’t let the kiddos eat up all the food! Or else I’ll have to eat you for dinner!”
Gods, he couldn’t be reacting to her like that with his kids right there.
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@nerdperson524
@claralady
@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
@morganofthewildfire
@rowanaelinn
@wesupremeginger
@story-scribbler
@nicolivesinbooks
@mackenzieclutt
@stardelia
@shanias-world
@mybloodrunsblue
@swankii-art-teacher
@wordsafterhours
@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks
@violet-mermaid7
@holdthefrickup
@goddess-aelin
@rowaelinismyotp
@dealfea
@irondork
@elentiyawhitethorn
@live-the-fangirl-life
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@chronicchthonic14
@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart
@sweet-but-stormy
@hanging-from-a-cliff
@jorjy-jo
@rowaelinrambling
@thegreyj
@silentquartz
@backtobl4ck
@throneofus7
#my writing#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#dilf rowan#dad rowan#rowaelin kiddos#fluff#fluff to cure my shit day
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
#i know their interactions seem a little rushed and glossed over#just bear with me here#tog#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fluff#tog fanfiction#tog fanfic#tog fluff#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#aelin galaythynius#luca#rowan whitethorn#connall moonbeam#fenrys moonbeam#vaughan#lysandra#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rhoe galathynius#evalin ashryver galathynius#call it what you want#ciwyw2
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
actions have consequences - twelve days of rowaelin '22.
ao3 || masterlist || twelve days of rowaelin ‘22 masterlist
prompt: santa getting caught out.
word count: 1193
trigger warnings: language, sexual themes
tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck @letstakethedawn @rowaelinscourt
It was Christmas Day, and Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius was reclined on the massive sectional his wife had bought years ago, in order to fit him, and his giant friends. There was a similar couch opposite, which she bought for her and her similarly small friends.
He was no longer sure which had been bought first, nor which person coveted it the most.
He was bedecked in matching Christmas pyjamas, a shirt proclaiming him ‘GRUMPY CLAUS’ with a shoddy illustration printed beneath it of him in a Santa hat. Also, his frown—is majorly exaggerated.
His wife’s named her ‘MRS CLAWS’, a similarly shit drawing of a cat wearing a Christmas hat, and a turquoise collar declaring it ‘A.A.W.G.’.
His kids’ pyjamas were a variation of animal puns, and their own most identifiable personality trait. Their oldest, Oren, who was barely five hadn’t taken his off since they presented to him on the twenty-third, and no matter how hard they tried, he was irrationally attached to them.
As his wife stood, popping into the kitchen to grab herself another drink, Oren stood from where he was laying out his latest unwrapped gift—a LEGO set he’d practically begged for. He toddled his way to Rowan, and with scrambling legs got himself up onto the sofa.
He squashed the cushions that Rowan had agonisingly plumped the night before, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Squashing down the cushions so that your uncles are uncomfortable—maybe you’re less like me than I thought. That is all your mother, Ore.”
For once, when he compared his son to the boy’s mother, he didn’t smile, grin, or laugh and run to tell Aelin. He frowned, his lips wobbled, and he looked absolutely distraught. “Don’t say that, daddy. Don’t. You don’t know what you’re comparing me to.” His son frowned even deeper, and Rowan's heart broke.
What on earth was going on?
“Kiddo, can you tell daddy what’s wrong?” his son shook his head, and slam himself into the couch cushions as if the world were ending. His heart rate picked up with a concern, what was his son doing, let alone talking about? “Can you whisper it in my ear? So, no one can hear, yeah?”
Oren gave a shaky nod, and scrambled along the cushions to settle himself right next to Rowan, practically breaking his ribs with the force he sat down. He got himself onto his knees and grabbed onto his hair, yanking Rowan’s silver locks like it wasn’t attached to his head. “Ow, bud, that hurt,” he chastised gently, prying the little fingers from his hair.
“This gonna hurt e’en more, daddy. But I need to get closer, so I can whisper in your ear, so mummy doesn’t hear me. She can’t know, daddy. She can’t!” he emphasised his final point with a foot stomp absorbed by the fluff in the cushion, but it rocked Rowan like an earthquake’s epicentre was directly beneath him.
“Alright, no telling mummy. But let’s tell daddy now, yeah. Because daddy really wants to know, you’re making him worried, Oren.” His tone was muted, calming to his nearly five-year-old.
Placing a foot on his ribs to reach his father’s ear, Oren began “Y’know how Mrs H and Mr H divorced because he loved other women, daddy?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Mummy loves other men.” Oren's tone is gentle, and he tries to run a soothing hand up and down Rowan’s shoulder but only serves to catch a sharp bit of fingernail in the soft, loose cotton, and snag it. He whimpers as Rowan pulls it out.
Rowan attempts to sit up, going to find the nail scissors he and his wife have stashed all around the house for such incidents, but fails as his son whispers once more, “She loves Santa, daddy. I snuck downstairs yesterday, and I saw her kissing him, just like she kisses you. Gah,” he spits out, horrified by the idea of affection and others ‘things’ between his parents.
Shit. Shit. Shit, Rowan thinks. How could he and his wife—his very attractive wife—have been so absorbed in each other that they hadn’t noticed their four-year-old making his way down the ancient, creaky staircase?
And how come his son couldn’t recognise him, when he clearly recognised Aelin, Rowan hadn’t even been wearing a Santa hat, for the gods’ sake.
He wasn’t insulted, he wasn’t. But it did sting a tad.
“Oh, kiddo. Let me grab some nail scissors so you don’t snag your nail again, and then we’ll talk this through.” Rowan placated, finally moving his son off him enough to stand up and stretch.
“And don’t tell mom—”
“I won’t trust me. I won’t tell her.”
Rowan wandered into the kitchen, cool as a cucumber, but quickly changed attitude when he caught sight of his wife. His body reacted, but he shushed it—and he suddenly remembered why they weren’t able to hear their clumsy, loud, and not-very-sneaky child as he made his way down the stairs last night. He had picked well, so very, very well.
His hand caught her shoulder, and he dragged her out of the kitchen, to the downstairs bathroom, which he pushed them into. He locked the door and turned around to find his wife with her pyjama shirt off and matching trousers around her thighs, bent over the sink, a wicked glint in her eye.
“Time for my Christmas present, babe?” she asked, crooking a finger at him, winking, and shaking her hips a tad. Her arse jiggled too, and he had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on her, and delivering on every promise he’d whispered in her ear this morning—whilst their children were heading for their bedroom door, of course.
“No.” she pouted, and ran a hand under herself to entice him, “No! your ‘present yesterday whilst we were setting up stockings is why we’re in here now, and we need to have a chat.”
“Uh-huh, hence why I’m trying to have you fuck me.”
“No, as in we were so caught up in our kiss that we didn’t notice Oren sneak downstairs just in time for him to witness us kissing.”
“No, oh my gods, no.” she hurriedly pulled her trousers, and with a chaste kiss to the top curve of her boob, Rowan pulled her shirt over her head. “we have to have the talk with him, about Santa not being real. Fuck, I wanted to hold on to that, at least till next year.
“Yep. Worse than that, he recognised you, but not me. So now he thinks you’re cheating on me, like Mrs H cheated on Mr H, only you aren’t cheating with your assistant, you’re cheating with fucking Santa Claus.”
“So, we need to find out where he heard about Mrs and Mr H, and we need to tell him that—”
“Santa’s not real. Perfect, honestly.”
A gasp sounds outside of the door, first “Santa’s not real?” at a decibel loud enough that their youngest two children heard—perfect—and then, “I hate you, daddy, you told me you wouldn’t tell mummy!” in a hurt tone—perfect—before a final, “have you got the scissors daddy, it got caught on the sofa?”
#12 days of rowaelin#twelve days of rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#rowaelin fic#rowaelin#tog#tog fic#throne of glass#throne of glass fic#llyncooljones' writing
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
*squeals* eeeeeeeeeeIloveMaisie. This was everything I could have ever wanted when I requested a Maisie pov 💞
Thinking her parents were fighting about her…. My heart broke remembering that feeling all too well as a child. 🥺
Trying to trick Aedion into feeding her candy and “No, thank you” to salad… she is 100% Aelin’s.
Maisie giving Aedion sleeping advice is both so insightful for such a little kiddo and hilarious because she’s oblivious to Lys being his two.
Her judginess of Aelin and Dorian’s past relationship is too good. I’m sure she’ll have situationships when she’s older.
I need more Maisie. I’m sorry if that sounds demanding. But also I’m not. You’re just so talented and I want to know everything about these characters in your brain. I want more of Maisie and Aelin challenging Rowan, I want Maisie plotting to get rid of Rowaelin baby #2, I want her also defending baby #2 because she seems like a protector but she’s still got strong opinions, I want Maisie driving Lorcan insane, I’ll even take Maisie as a hellion teen. …I can keep going…
Or if you’re done with the Maisie pov, just tell me to bug off and I’ll cherish this precious glimpse into maisy daisy’s brain.
Thank you for writing this request!
Thank you!! I’m so happy you liked it 🩷❤️💛💞💗🧡💖💕
I don’t have anything planned for another Maisie’s POV (which doesn’t mean I won’t do it heheheh), but I do have lots of outtake ideas with her and her [redacted]
Prompts are always open, but in the meantime here’s a little ✨snippet✨
“I wish I was a dog.” A sigh too deep for a five-year-old. “All I do in my people school is learn letters and numbers. I already know all of them.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rowan challenged, his eyes were full of amusement when he met Aelin’s own, smirking. “What comes after eleven?”
“Not important!”
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi hi! I'm your secret santa for the Rowaelin exchange! And I wanted to ask you some questions so I can make something you'll hopefully love!
Is there anything else you generally enjoy more? AU types, meet-cutes, established relationships, fluff, holiday themed, other themes, etc. Happy to know any details, likes, kinda-likes, and definitely please share dislikes, too. Excited to create a gift for you! 🙂
Hiii, sorry I'm just seeing this now I don't know when you sent this oop-
I am a s l u t for established relationships and domestic fluff after a tiring work day. Like them cooking together, showering with cute moments (possibly no smut, but I'm not opposed, I just don't want the fic to be one of those "no plot just porn" fics) (also, nothing against that, I love those, just not as a Yulemas gift), going on a date. I really really really love proposals and overly romantic shit
I'm also a self-proclaimed queen of kids fics, or pregnancy fics, so feel free to play with that as well. I love myself some Rowaelin kiddos
I also kinda-like hurt/comfort, but no heavy angsty stuff or anything like that I don't wanna cry at the airport (where I'll be on the 20th, so yeah)
OOH ALMOST FORGOT I FUCKING L O V E LOVE LOOVE RANDOM TOUCHES!!! Physical touch is what I'm starved for and aoisuydfvgbciudgfrb just, yk, random brushes of the arm, the neck, a hand on a tigh, on the jaw. Hugs from behind when the others is busy doing something and the other wants attention. That kind of things:DD
I can't really think of any dislikes right now cause I'm running on three hours of sleep and I'm currently in French class, so my brain is mush, but I'll reblog this post if I come up with anything
Hope I could help, have a nice dayyy<3<3
0 notes
Note
omg did someone say headcanons? Rowaelin family Halloween headcanons!
Ooh I see the ToG Halloween one but the one I submitted means Rowaelin & their babies/kids on Halloween, just to clarify ☺️ getting their kiddos dressed up and going trick-or-treating and all that good stuff
Ok okay! One rowaelin kid Halloween headcanon, coming up.
Before they have kids, Aelin goes the super sophisticated route. Dressing up, sparkly, out all night dancing
But then when they start having kids, Aelin wants everyone to be coordinated.
At first they are like a scarecrow and her husband and their squishy baby pumpkin.
Then they have more kids! And Aelin is like omg the possibilities are endless.
They tried to be DIY costume people but.... Aelin tells people she is too ambitious.
It’s not that she isn’t skilled with a needle and thread, exactly.... but when her kids all ask the be costumed as wyverns one year and she wants their scales to be lifelike, she is limited in what she can accomplish herself.
Aelin loves haute couture, but that doesn’t mean she can do it herself.
One year, Rowan asks if he can take over.
Aelin is… a bit skeptical. It’s not that he isn’t a fantastic father because obviously he is. He’s just never been one for fashion, or a cohesive ~aesthetic~.
When they make their grand entrance, Aelin is speechless.
He asked the kids to pick their hero, and their eldest daughter Evalin is dressed in a miniature version of Aelin’s coronation gown.
There are tiny versions of Manon, Fenrys, and Elide.
The youngest is Fleetfoot.
She breaks down crying.
They go through the whole knocking from one door to another asking for candy.
At first Aelin is very paranoid about letting her kids go around like that, even near home, even when she and Rowan are there.
Peace is always tenuous. But one day when her youngest son wanders off and she runs around in a panic, she’s relieved to see the efforts of her people at finding him.
He’s fine, of course. And Aelin is reassured that everyone around her was in as much of a panic as she was. Not because she’s the queen, but because they love her family, too.
So the deal is that Aelin goes through their bags of candy, ostensibly checking for poison and such, but really she’s just making sure that everyone gets their favorite candies.
If that means she ends up with a sizable portion for herself, so be it.
She catches her eldest daughter Evalin bargaining with the younger kids.
“You give me that candy apple, and I’ll make your bed for a week.”
They readily agree.
When Aelin reminds Evalin that they have maids for that, she shrugs.
Aelin wonders if she’s begun the diplomacy and negotiation lessons too soon. But she’s not too worried about the future of Terrasen.
When Evalin asks to take over the family costumes one year, Aelin suggests that they do it together.
It becomes a tradition for the two to be in charge of everything - the clothes, the decorations, the party, the music.
#tangledraysofsunshine#tog#throne of glass#rowaelin#throne of glass headcanons#rowaelin headcanons#ask#the alex tag
82 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ok so since I'm kinda new to your gen 2, who are all the kiddos and who's in a relationship with who?
Ok so it took me a minute to get all of them down, but I’m basically just going to do a list in terms of characters by ships and stuff.
Manorian: Rhiannon Havilliard, Asterina Havilliard
Rowaelin: Nehemia Galathynius, Gabriel Galathynius, Roman Galathynius, Deanna Galathynius, and Malena Galathynius
Elorcan: Callum Lochan
Lysaedion: Gavrielle Ashryver, Adrianna Ashryver (twins)
Chaorene: Kashin Westfall
Nestaq: Camilla, Orion, Robin
Non-Ship: Lilith Arturian, Hecate (Rolfe’s daughter), Edalyn Ashryver (Galan’s daughter), and Artemis (Fenrys and Vaughan’s adopted daughter).
As far as pairings, I’ve had a slight bit of trouble figuring out who I want with who, but I do have a couple. Lilith and Gabriel are intended to be a pairing, Rhiannon and Nehemia are in a relationship, and I’ve thought of pairing up Callum and Roman. As far as other ships go, I’m still figuring those out.
I also have a couple next gen A Court of Thorns and Roses characters that I developed some. There’s my Feysand kid Celeste (Maeve) Archeron, and she’s meant to be paired with Arthur, a white winged Illyrian who was cast out from his home after his mother died and his wings started becoming white.
Hope this works well enough!
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, I saw your Channon Ashryver posts and thought you started ToG next gen series or something. Now my neck hurts from scrolling down your blog but I don't see anything about Rowaelin kiddos lol. So help me please!
Hi!
Well I didn't started it, the aesthetics are like a year old, but yes I have Rowaelin kiddos, though I have thought about them quite a bit over the year, so there is a chance that one of the names is changed for me at least, and I think I also changed how many children they have(and I haven't made aesthetics for thenew ones yet), but two should be still correct. I am just going to tag you in them, okay?
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
queen's crown
rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"
word count: 725
warnings: none :)
enjoy!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.
The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.
She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.
But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.
"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.
Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.
"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.
"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."
She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."
Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"
Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."
A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.
Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."
"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"
Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"
"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.
At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.
Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"
"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.
A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"
"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.
Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.
Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.
And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.
~~~
TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)
@live-the-fangirl-life
@superspiritfestival
@thegreyj
@wordsafterhours
@elentiyawhitethorn
@morganofthewildfire
@mariaofdoranelle
@rowanaelinn
@house-of-galathynius
@tomtenadia
@julemmaes
@swankii-art-teacher
@charlizeed
@booknerdproblems
@earthtolinds
@goddess-aelin
@sweet-but-stormy
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@llyncooljones
@silentquartz
@aelinschild
@renxzs
#my writing#answered prompt#prompt fill#throne of glass microfics#throne of glass#queen of shadows#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#rowaelin#awlin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#canon au#post canon au#rowaelin and kiddos#rowaelin babies
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Memory of Your Love
Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)
Enjoy!
@rowaelinscourt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.”
Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?”
Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly.
Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”
Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.”
“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.”
He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.”
“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?”
“Uh…yeeeeees?”
“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.”
“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.”
“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed.
In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!
What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”
That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?”
“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.”
I heard that.
I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss.
Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”
“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”
“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!”
“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.”
~
For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought.
Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!”
“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.”
He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!”
“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased.
Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!”
“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.”
His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead.
She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?”
“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?”
Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.
No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.
Right. Just…how much?
As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.
I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.”
His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?”
“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?”
Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Of course.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.”
~
Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen.
Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?”
“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.
“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul.
Aelin melted into him. As I love you.
Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him.
Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly.
Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.”
“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.”
“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin.
“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.”
“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.”
Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.”
Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.”
“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked.
“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.”
Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?”
“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.”
“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief.
“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.”
“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly.
Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.”
“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words.
“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.”
“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?”
“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.”
“Can you read them?” Bran asked.
“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.”
“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive.
“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured.
A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?”
Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.”
“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment.
Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.”
Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.”
Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared.
Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look.
“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”
“Even the ones that hurt?”
“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”
#my writing#rowaelin month#rowaelin month 2023#rowaelinmonth#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin and kiddos#rowaelin family fic#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin au#canonverse#surprise surprise it's canonverse lol
92 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm so happy for you, congrats🫶🫶🎉
This prompt: "I would marry you again in a heartbeat."
thank you so much 🥹🥹❤️ i ADORE this prompt
Word count: 1,154
Warnings: kids being uncontrollable as usual
enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm home!" Aelin called, pressing the button to close the garage door as she stepped into the house. She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief, set down her leather tote, and counted exactly eight seconds before two sets of little arms flung themselves around her legs and waist, two excited little voices squealing for Mama! "Hi, my loves," she laughed, ruffling her children's hair. "Let Mama actually get into the house before you tackle me, alright?"
"Tackle?" Brannon perked up, hearing his favorite word. At ten years old, he was just as sports-minded as all the other boys in his class, and he'd had to learn that if he wanted to tackle, he needed to be outside in the Whitethorn-Galathynius family's expansive backyard.
"Of course that's the only thing you hear," Aelin chuckled to herself. "Not literally, son," she told him. "I'm way too strong for you to tackle."
"Are not!" To prove his point, her son charged, barely able to latch his arms around her waist before she swept him up into her arms, tipped him over her shoulder, and carried him into the playroom.
He shrieked with laughter. "Okay! Okay Mama! You win!"
"That's right, B," she teased, squeezing him in a brief hug. "Hi, my boy. How was school--aaaaaand he's gone." She laughed to herself. "Boys."
"Hi Mama!" Seven-year-old Evie gleefully took Bran's place in Aelin's arms, snuggling herself up close against her mother.
"Hi, lovey," Aelin beamed, holding her younger daughter close. "How was your school day?"
"Good!" Evie's grin was a perfect replica of her mother's. "I got a gold star on my spellin' test, an' I pushed Timmy off the monkey bars!"
Aelin's shoulders shook with mirth. "Evalin, honey, haven't we talked about how you shouldn't push other kids on the playground?"
Evie shrugged. "He said Sana's bow was stupid."
"Hmm." Unable to resist her little mirror image, Aelin winked. "Well, I understand that, then. But next time he says something like that, you need to tell the teacher, okay?"
"Okay." Evie bobbed her curly blonde head. "Wanna see my gold star, Mama?"
"Of course I do!" Aelin let her small daughter lead her back out to the kitchen, where she found her eldest child sitting at the dining table, working on a set of math problems.
Evie tugged her past the table before she could stop and say hello. "C'mon, Mama!" Aelin followed her to the fridge, where her latest spelling test was stuck to the door with magnets. "Look!" Evie pointed proudly to the gold star adorning the top of the page.
"Well done, lovey!" Aelin gave her a high five. "You're way better at spelling than I ever was."
"Really?"
"Yep." She nodded. "Don't tell anyone, but I couldn't spell 'banana' the right way until I was Lana's age."
"And you still can't," Rowan teased, coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, just below her ear. "Hi, my love."
"Hi." She turned to face him and pressed her lips to his, earning a full set of disgusted noises from the children.
"Ugh, you guys! Gross!" Lana protested, throwing an eraser at Rowan's back. The oldest of the Whitethorn children, she was almost thirteen and growing up far too fast for Aelin and Rowan's liking.
"Just give it a few more years," Aelin whispered into Rowan's ear.
It was her husband's turn to shudder. "Don't remind me," he groaned.
She chuckled. "I won't. Not when you're cooking dinner, at least." Leaving one last kiss on the edge of his jaw, she went back into the dining room and sat down next to her oldest. "Hey, Lana."
"Hi, Mom." Lana was busy with her math homework, pencil scratching against the paper as she worked through a problem. Aelin could tell from the set of her daughter's jaw that she was stuck, so she waited quietly until Lana groaned and tossed her pencil down on the tabletop.
"This is stupid," she grumbled, scowling. "Stupid math. Why can't they just give us equations instead of stupid word problems?"
Aelin retrieved the pencil and placed it next to Lana's math book. "How far did you get?"
Grudgingly, Lana turned her paper so Aelin could see. "I literally don't even know." She pointed to the problem in the book. "I kinda get what it wants me to solve for, but it's not helpful at all with how to solve it."
"That's why it's called a problem, sweetheart." Aelin read the problem over a few times and looked over her daughter's work. "You've got it just about halfway solved, actually."
"No I don't! There's three variables, I only found one!" Lana was on the verge of wailing.
Aelin kept her voice calm. "Do you know how to use a system of equations?"
Slowly, Lana nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay, good. Here." Aelin rewrote the two equations Lana had found using the variable she'd solved for. "Now can you substitute so there's only one variable?"
"Um..." Lana took the pencil back and scribbled. "Yeah! I can." As she grasped the problem, she wrote faster, until she'd solved for the second variable, plugged it into one of the equations, and found the third. "I did it!"
Aelin checked the math and nodded. "You did it!"
Unexpectedly, Lana got up and squished her mother into a hug that was all lanky limbs. "Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Aelin smoothed Lana's messy, light blonde hair and let her go put her math book away, homework done for the night. She went back into the kitchen and took the stack of plates from Rowan's hands. "Let me."
He flashed her a grateful look. "Thanks, babe."
"Ewwwww," Lana grumbled, wrinkling her nose as she passed by.
"There's our almost teen," Rowan chuckled, fondly.
Aelin came over to get silverware. "Stop saying that, it makes me feel old as hell." She pressed her fingertips to his lips before he could make a smart remark about how she was old. "I know, I'm not twenty-two anymore, but neither are you, my love." She smirked. "You've always been old."
"Rude!" Checking to make sure the kids were far out of eyeshot, he flicked the dish towel at her, swiping it across her ass.
She flashed him a wicked grin. "Careful with that, old man. That's how we found ourselves in this situation in the first place."
His face flushed a delightful shade of scarlet and he coughed, choking on whatever he'd been about to say. "I love you so much," he wheezed, regaining his breath.
"I love you more." Silverware set, she slipped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. "I know we're already married, Ro, but I would marry you again in a heartbeat."
His deep green eyes went soft. "I'd marry you again every day, Fireheart."
~~~
TAGS:
@live-the-fangirl-life
@superspiritfestival
@thegreyj
@wordsafterhours
@elentiyawhitethorn
@morganofthewildfire
@backtobl4ck
@rowanaelinn
@house-of-galathynius
@tomtenadia
@julemmaes
@swankii-art-teacher
@charlizeed
@booknerdproblems
@chronicchthonic14
@earthtolinds
@goddess-aelin
@sweet-but-stormy
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@llyncooljones
@silentquartz
#my writing#answered prompt#leia's 500 followers thing#rowaelin#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#throne of glass fanfic#rowaelin children#rowaelin and kiddos#silly goofy fun little family fluff fic
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mama's Little Pirate
Rowaelin Month, Day 13: Babies/Kids/Next Gen
a Fly The Black Flag outtake ;)) but you do NOT need to read FTBF before this
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: few swear words, otherwise none hehe
Enjoy!
@rowaelinscourt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The salty evening breeze had never felt so good against Aelin’s skin as it did that evening when she trudged up the sandy stretch of beach towards the faint smudge of a building on the horizon. Gently, the light wind lifted the strands of hair that were plastered to her neck and cheeks, nudging them away from her skin. Beneath her weathered boots, the ground changed from shifting sand to dark, rich soil and gravel, and she released a bone-deep sigh of relief. Solid ground still wavered beneath her feet, and she had to force herself to stay upright.
She hadn’t battled her way to being the most notorious pirate on the ocean just for her damn sea legs to betray her.
Swift as the wind, and just as in tune with her movements, Rowan caught her from behind, supporting her. “Don’t go giving out on me just yet, Fireheart,” he teased, a low, wicked glint sparking in his eyes. “We haven’t even made it home yet.”
“Ass.” She swatted his muscled shoulder playfully. “And who said anything about we making it home? I thought you were all excited to scare the living shit out of Lorcan and Ells.”
“Oh, I am.” His smirk was nothing short of roguish. “But I can’t let my wife collapse on the side of the shitty road before we can set that plan into motion.”
“Such a gentleman.” Regaining her balance, she turned around, rose onto her tiptoes, and stole a kiss that was altogether too short.
He rested his forehead against hers after breaking the kiss. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”
“Indeed you will.”
With a final kiss, Rowan veered off into the forest, heading for the hunting trails where his horse was tethered. If all went according to the plan, he’d come home after Aelin and the others had finished dinner and make a “surprise” entrance.
Aelin took a moment to shake out her complaining limbs before she headed towards the forest. One desire remained at the front of her mind: get back to her home and her daughter before night fully set, otherwise her beloved, if far too fussy, friends would send out a search party.
“Hey, Cap.” Speaking of those friends…
“Ells.” Aelin turned to find Elide sitting astride her horse on the side of the road. Aelin’s own stallion was next to Elide’s mare. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Elide rolled her eyes. “Figured you’d want to get home before dinner gets cold.”
“Aren’t you always so observant,” Aelin teased. She tossed her seabag into the saddlebag and swung herself up onto the sleek gray stallion, running an affectionate hand along his neck. “Thanks, Ells.”
“Anytime.” Her first mate saluted, wheeled her mare around, and nudged her into an easy canter. “I’ll beat you home by five minutes, Cap!”
“We’ll see about that!” Aelin crowed, leaning low and nudging her stallion into a canter. “Fly, boy!”
Elide did beat Aelin back to the Keep, and the shorter woman was grinning widely when Aelin crossed the courtyard after leaving her horse in the stables and slapped two silvers into her hand.
“All right, you win,” she fake-grumbled. “Damn pirates, taking all my money.”
“As if you weren’t far, far worse,” Elide snorted. “And speaking of pirates, where–”
“MAMA!” The childish shriek was followed immediately by a rapid patter of small footsteps, and a small blonde blur came whizzing across the courtyard into Aelin’s open arms.
Beaming, Aelin squeezed her seven-year-old daughter tightly. “Hi, lovey,” she murmured.
“I miss you, Mama.” Evie whispered. Her big green eyes filled with irresistible tears. “You were gone so long!”
“Oh, my Evalin,” Aelin breathed, tears inadvertently springing to her eyes, “I’ll always come home to you.” She kissed her daughter’s messy blonde curls. “You know that, right?”
Evie nodded. “Still miss you.”
“I miss you too.” Aelin cupped Evie’s rosy little face. “So, so much.”
“Good to see you still alive, Captain,” drawled another voice from behind her.
Without turning around, Aelin snorted dryly. “Salvaterre, the day you say that without irony is the day cows fu–er, fly.”
Lorcan smothered a laugh. “And you wonder where your child gets it from.”
“I don’t, actually.” She turned the full force of her charming smile onto the hulking, perpetually scowly pirate. “She gets it from your sons.”
He cracked a smirk. “Touché.”
Aelin allowed Lorcan to drape his arm across her shoulders for a few seconds–his version of an affectionate hug. “Before you ask, the Doranelle is just fine. She and the Terrasen should be back in no more than three months.”
“Better be bringing rum,” Lorcan grumbled.
She snickered. “What if I told Ro that we were oversupplied here and didn’t need any more?”
He grunted something too crude for children’s ears. “You’re the worst, Galathynius.”
“Why thank you,” she crooned. “Don’t worry, Scowly, there’ll be plenty of rum.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “If you’re really lucky, it won’t even have been purchased.”
Evie tugged at Aelin’s sleeve. “Dinner, Mama!”
“That’s right, lovey!” Aelin scooped her daughter up and settled her on her shoulders. “We can’t go and forget the most important part of the day!” She strode into the brick-and-stone manor that sat at the center of the Iron Isles Pirates’ Keep.
The compound comprised the manor, stables, a handful of smaller houses for other pirates, several different training buildings, and a number of storehouses built into different parts of the hill, some of them underground. Built primarily from the same gray stone that most of the Isles were made of, the fortress both blended into the landscape and loomed over it, a mark of the pirates’ protection and of their merciless reputation.
Since the first building had been completed, six years ago now, the crews of the Terrasen and the Doranelle, as well as their smaller companion ships, had called the place home.
After dinner was finished, Aelin was lounging in a comfortable armchair with a book and a drink, paying more attention to the children running around the large but homey living room. Evie had received a wooden toy sword from Uncle Scowly for her birthday, and she was barely ever seen without it dangling at her side.
Lorcan was even teaching her how to wield it.
Aelin taught her, too, when she was able to snatch a few moments to spend with her daughter rather than dealing with the bullshit that the unruly pirates were always throwing at her.
Evie was play-fighting with Cal and Daric, Elide and Lorcan’s twin boys, all three of the children screeching and yelling as they pretended to beat the hell out of the Royal Navy.
“I don’t wanna be the Navy!” Daric whined, stamping his small foot in anger. “You made me be them last time!”
“Shut up!” Evie retorted, sticking her tongue out. “Last time, you made me be the prisoner!”
“So?”
“So this is fair!” She scowled–an expression inherited purely from her father–when Daric tried to push back on her argument. “If you don’t like it, you can quit. Like a…” She fumbled for an appropriate term. “Like–like a pussy!”
“Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius!” Aelin exclaimed, dropping her book in utter shock. “That was a very, very naughty word!” She folded her arms across her chest, firmly refusing to meet either Elide’s or Lorcan’s badly hidden smirks lest she explode into laughter. “Come here, Evie.”
Flushing, Evie slowly approached her mother, sword dragging on the wooden floor. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she mumbled.
Aelin forced sternness onto her face. “Evie, lovey, do you remember what Mama told you about naughty words?”
“Only say it when I know what it means,” Evie said, quietly.
“That’s right.” Aelin’s demeanor softened. She knelt down and wrapped her daughter’s hands in her own. “Uncle Lorcan and Uncle Fen like to say words they shouldn’t say in front of you and your cousins, and that means that you have to make them shut up.”
Evie giggled and sniffled all at once. “I can tell them to shut up?”
“That’s right.” Aelin kissed Evie’s forehead. “So tell me, little love, which one of your foul-mouthed uncles said that word around you and your cousins.”
“Um…” The little pirate girl hesitated. “It-it was…” She trailed off.
“Do you need to whisper?” Aelin asked softly. Sometimes, letting Evie whisper into her ear was better than having her say it out loud.
Evie shook her head. “It was…it was Dad.”
Aelin’s gasp of absolute shock was echoed by Rowan’s characteristic, I’ve-held-it-in-for-too- damn-long snort. “That’s my girl!” he crowed, stepping into the living room from where he’d been hiding in the hall.
Elide gasped. Lorcan whipped his head to the doorway. Aelin beamed–the “surprise” had gone perfectly.
Shock, delight, and joy bloomed across Evie’s face. “Dad!” she screeched, throwing her toy sword to the floor and sprinting to her father, who swung her up into his arms, beaming.
“Hi, little love.” Rowan hugged Evie fiercely. “Is it true that you called your cousin a naughty word? One that you heard me say?”
She nodded, earnestly. “Mhmm. Daric was being a pu–”
“Ah-ah, nope, shhhhhhh.” Rowan pressed his forefinger over his daughter’s lips. “What did Mama just say about not using a word unless you know what it means?”
Evie sighed. “Okay, Dad.”
“That’s my girl.” He smacked a theatrical kiss onto her cheek. “Want to show me what you’ve been learning with your sword, Evie girl?” She exclaimed in agreement and he set her down, then made his way over to his wife.
Aelin stepped easily into his embrace. “Captain,” she murmured, laughter dancing in her bright eyes.
“Captain,” he murmured back. He kissed her softly, snatching a quiet moment with her before their daughter pulled on both of her parents’ sleeves, demanding that they watch her “sword fightin’.”
It was precisely the life Aelin had only ever dreamt of.
~~~
#my writing#rowaelinmonth#rowaelin month#rowaelin month 2023#fly the black flag#ftbf#pirate au#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#and kiddos#rowan x aelin#surprise ftbf is back!!!#gonna pretend like i haven't been sitting on this for a month lmao#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
That's The One
For 12 Days of Rowaelin, Day 1: First Holidays Together
Word count: 1632
Warnings: absolutely none
Enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aelin was incredibly stressed.
So stressed that she’d forgotten her purse twice and nearly walked out of her house with only one shoe on. Not to mention the unbuttoned coat.
Thankfully, she had Lana to keep her mind from going completely off the rails.
“Mama!” the five-year-old piped up, tugging Aelin’s hand. “I got your purse, Mama!”
“Thank you, lovey,” Aelin sighed, taking the purse from her daughter and ruffling the girl’s soft blonde curls. “Did I forget anything else, or are we finally ready?”
“All ready!” Lana declared. “Time to go!”
“Time to go indeed,” Aelin chuckled. “Ready to see Grandma and Grandpa, Lana?”
“Yeah!”
“Good!” Aelin helped the little girl into her carseat, making sure her seatbelt was securely fastened, then hopped into the driver’s seat and backed out of her garage, closing the door with a press of the remote. She sent up a quick prayer to any deity listening as she pulled out of her driveway and headed up the street. Please, don’t let this be a disaster again.
An hour and a half later, she arrived at her parents’ lovely house in the Staghorn Mountains foothills, driving slowly and carefully down the beautifully raked gravel drive. The house, expansive but somehow welcoming, was surrounded by lush, snow-dusted pines, and paired with the soft fluorescent lights dripping off the detailing, the property looked like a Christmas picture card.
“Grandma!” Lana squealed, wriggling in her carseat. “Can I unbuckle, Mama?”
“Not until I turn off the car, remember?” That rule had been implemented as soon as Lana was old enough to sit in a big-girl booster, and she still fought it sometimes.
Lana stuck out her lower lip but stayed buckled, waiting until Aelin had parked and turned off the ignition before she released her seatbelt. “Hurry up, Mama!”
“I’m coming, lovey,” Aelin laughed, swinging herself out of the car and grabbing her and her daughter’s overnight bags. “Want to help carry the presents, baby?”
“I not a baby,” Lana protested. “I big!”
“That’s right, you’re a big girl, how silly of me to forget.” Aelin planted a great smacking kiss on her daughter’s head, chuckling at her yelp of protest. “Can you help carry all the presents, big girl?”
“Yeah!” Lana eagerly took the cardboard box full of presents for Aelin’s family and friends and carefully walked up to the front door, keeping her attention locked on the box.
“That’s an awfully big box, little one,” a deep male voice observed. “You need help getting through the door?”
So Rowan had beat them to Aelin’s parents’ house, then.
Lana mumbled something that must have been a yes, because Rowan graciously held open the door for the little girl, keeping it open for Aelin. She flashed him a thankful grin and set down the suitcases and the other bag of presents, then took the box from her daughter.
“Good job, lovey,” she beamed. “Go say hi to Grandma and Grandpa, I’ll be right behind you.”
Lana sprinted off to say hi to Rhoe and Evalin, her delighted squeals indicating that her grandparents were very happy to see her.
Aelin shook out her hands and unzipped her jacket before turning to the man standing to her side, a tiny little grin gracing his face. “Hi.”
“Hi, Fireheart,” Rowan grinned, glancing around to make sure there were no peeking parents before pulling her into a quick, tender kiss.
Aelin had met Rowan seven or eight months ago on her way home from work. She’d stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner and, because she was distracted by her godsdamned boss’s stupidly inane call, had accidentally run her shopping cart right into the impossibly handsome man standing in front of her. Between all but yelling at her boss to shut up and profusely apologizing, she’d brought a grin to the man’s face. And, shortly later, he’d helped her bring her groceries out to her car, brushing off her continued apologies.
They’d exchanged numbers that day and it hadn’t even been forty-eight hours before he’d texted her asking if she wanted to get coffee sometime. Coffee turned into dinner, which turned into dating, which turned into Aelin inviting Rowan to her place a month into their relationship, beyond stressed that he would take one look at her and her daughter and leave. Because who wanted to be with a young single mother?
Chaol certainly hadn’t.
To Aelin’s never-ending surprise, though, Rowan had been nothing but sweet with Lana, and Lana had instantly clicked with Rowan. The little girl spent a whole week asking–begging–her mother to tell her when “the pretty man with the drawings” would be coming over again, and the next time she saw him, she flung herself into his arms. She’d never ever done that before. Not even with Aedion, to Aelin’s eternal amusement.
Six months into their relationship, Aelin decided to invite Rowan to her parents’ house for Christmas, knowing it was time to finally introduce her boyfriend properly to her family. They’d met him over FaceTime and seemed to approve–from Rhoe’s not-very-subtle comments, he definitely approved. But Aelin still had to bring Rowan home, and the holidays were, apparently, the time. He’d instantly agreed, seeming excited but also a little scared at the prospect of meeting her parents.
“Gods, I feel like I’m a teenager again,” he’d laughed.
Aelin chuckled. “I’ll make Dad be nice, don’t worry.”
So here he was, at her parents’ house, stealing a kiss before slipping his hand into hers and squeezing in support.
“Want me to carry any of the presents?”
“Yeah, here.” She leaned down and grabbed the bag, handing it to him. “You can take these. Just be careful, you don’t want to break yours.”
“I thought you were getting me one that didn’t break,” Rowan smirked, winking wickedly.
“Ro!” She flushed, swatting his arm. “Not right before you meet my parents!”
He just laughed and stole another kiss. “All right, I'll behave.”
“Good.” She rolled onto her tiptoes, whispering into his ear. “Good boys get rewarded, love.”
That certainly got his…attention.
Hand in hand with her boyfriend, Aelin headed into the living room, finding her daughter eagerly telling her grandparents all about her Christmas wish list. Lana’s attention went right to Rowan, her story cutting short.
“Rowan!” she yelled, flinging her arms around his leg. “Rowan, tell Gramma an’ Grampa ’bout the tree house!”
“That’s one way to make an introduction,” Aelin laughed wryly. “Lana, love, can you help put the presents under the tree?” With her daughter sufficiently occupied, she turned to her parents. “Hi.”
“Fireheart,” Rhoe beamed, embracing her warmly. “And who is this?”
“Dad,” Aelin groaned, “we’re not sixteen!” She flashed Rowan a little smirk. “This is Rowan.”
“Lovely to finally meet you properly, Rowan,” Evalin smiled.
“Lovely to finally meet you,” Rowan replied, shaking Rhoe’s hand and returning Evalin’s hug.
Evalin wiggled her brows at her daughter. “He’s a fine one,” she murmured, wrapping Aelin into a warm hug.
“Mom,” Aelin groaned, flushing as she hugged Evalin back. “You too?”
Evalin smirked. “This is the first time you’ve brought a man home, Fireheart, so you can forgive us for being a little excited about it.”
“The first time?”
Her mother winked. “The first time you’ve brought a man, darling.”
Aelin snickered. Her mother wasn’t wrong, though–when she first introduced Sam to her parents, it was her freshman year of college. She was barely an adult, and he still had that boyish aura of his.
A year later, they were parents.
And a year after that–no. Aelin didn’t want to think about the year after that.
“Be nice to Rowan,” she chuckled, pretending to glare at her dad.
Rhoe held up his hands in innocence. “Surely you weren’t expecting me to be anything but gracious?”
“Funny,” Aelin deadpanned. “So you weren’t planning to interrogate him?”
“Only a little bit!”
Aelin sighed dramatically and wound her arms around her boyfriend’s waist. “It’s not too late to leave…”
“Oh no you don’t,” Rhoe laughed. “Lana here wants her Jell-O, right?”
“JELL-O!” Lana screeched, bouncing on the sofa cushions. “Now, Grandpa?”
“Can you wait until dinnertime?” Aelin asked.
Lana propped her chin on her two fists and considered for a moment. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “I can wait to dinner.”
“That’s my girl.” Aelin ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Should we give some presents?”
“Yeah!” Lana’s whole face lit up as she ran for the Christmas tree, excitedly grabbing a few of the neatly wrapped boxes and passing them around. “How come this one says Aelin?”
“Because that’s my name, lovey.”
“Oh.” Lana’s blonde brows scrunched up. “But Grandma an’ Grandpa call you Fireheart!”
Aelin couldn’t stop the fond smile that bloomed across her face. “That’s a nickname, Lana. Like how I call you ‘lovey.’”
“Is that why your present for Rowan says ‘buzzard?’”
Rowan snorted a laugh, looping his arm around Aelin’s shoulders. “You’ve been discovered,” he teased, tugging her into his side on the couch.
She leaned into him. “She’s too smart for her own good, I swear.”
“Gets that from her mother.”
She poked him in the ribs. “You stop that before I do something stupid like kiss you.”
“Who said that’s stupid?” He grinned, leaning down until he was dangerously close. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, love.” Before she could pretend to protest any more, he kissed her, not caring at all that her parents were definitely watching.
“That’s the one,” Rhoe loudly whispered, flashing a secret grin at his wife.
Evalin swatted her husband’s shoulder. “You’re not even trying to be subtle, are you?”
“Why would I try?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, both of them beaming at their daughter, lost in her boyfriend’s arms. “They’re perfect together.”
~~~
TAGS:
@live-the-fangirl-life
@superspiritfestival
@thegreyj
@wordsafterhours
@elentiyawhitethorn
@morganofthewildfire
@backtobl4ck
@rowanaelinn
@house-of-galathynius
@tomtenadia
@julemmaes
@swankii-art-teacher
@charlizeed
@booknerdproblems
@chronicchthonic14
@earthtolinds
@goddess-aelin
@sweet-but-stormy
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@llyncooljones
@silentquartz
#my writing#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#12 days of rowaelin#pure fluff#just fluff#and kiddos
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay, we've seen rowaelin taking care of adorable babies, what about rowaelin raising angsty teenagers?
*cackles* now this is a good idea. brace yourselves.
word count: 2,633
warnings: language, teenagers, exasperation
enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Ro?” Aelin entered the dimly lit kitchen, yawning. “It’s really late, babe.”
Her husband sighed, pulling off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, but Lana’s not home yet.”
She glanced at the clock. 11:35. “She knows when we asked her to be home, love, and she drove herself, she’ll be able to get inside the house just fine.” She kissed the top of his head. “C’mon, old man. It’s past your bedtime.”
“Old man, am I?” he mumbled teasingly, standing up to wrap one arm around his wife’s waist. “I’m thirty-seven, Fireheart.”
“And already silver,” she grinned, ruffling his hair. “Though I’m jealous of that, these kids are giving me gray hairs that you don’t have to worry about.”
He flashed her a little grin. “Is it bad of me to think that makes you even more gorgeous?”
“You’re bad, Whitethorn,” she laughed, molding herself against him. “But I love you.”
“I love you more,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. And yawning. A lot.
She chuckled at him. “See? It’s past your bedtime.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, following her upstairs.
Just as they walked into their bedroom, the garage door rumbled open, closing a moment later, footsteps tapping softly against the wooden floors downstairs as their oldest daughter came inside. She quietly toed off her shoes and headed upstairs, stopping in front of her bedroom door when she saw both of her parents in their bedroom door, watching her.
“Hi...” she began, trailing off.
“How was--”
“What time is it?” Rowan interrupted, his arms folded across his chest.
“Um...” Lana glanced at her phone. “12:10.”
“We told you to be home by midnight, and that means--”
“Don’t be an ass,” Aelin hissed, elbowing her brooding husband in the ribs. “Goodnight, Lana. We can talk in the morning.”
“Night, Mom, ‘night, Dad,” their daughter mumbled, quickly shutting herself in her bedroom.
Aelin closed the master bedroom door and raised her brows at Rowan. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”
He had the grace to blush. “We gave her a curfew!”
“Ro,” Aelin sighed, resting her hands on his broad chest, “she’s eighteen now. Neither of us likes it or knows how the hell to process it, but she’s an adult. We can’t keep acting like she’s fifteen and going on her first date.”
He loosed a long sigh, dropping onto the bed with his wife in his lap. “It all happened so fast, my love,” he murmured. “Too fast.”
“I know, you old sap.” Her eyes went distant, remembering the way their daughter had unexpectedly entered their lives when they were freshmen in college, only eighteen and nineteen years old, changing their lives and their relationship forever in all kinds of wonderful and exciting and absolutely terrifying ways. She still remembered the way she’d sobbed in the delivery room when her tiny, perfect little daughter was placed into her arms, a squalling bundle of limbs and tufts of blonde hair to whom she immediately gave her whole heart. “I know.”
He kissed her gently. “We’ll talk with her in the morning.”
“Yeah, we will.”
~
Aelin was sipping on her coffee when Lana came downstairs, dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Morning, Lana.”
“Morning, Mom.” Lana poured herself some coffee and plopped down at the table. “Okay, let’s get it over with.”
Aelin smothered a grin. “Honey, it’s not an interrogation.”
“Tell that to Dad,” her daughter grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“Your father’s always been overprotective, he can’t help himself.”
Lana cracked a grin at that. “Yeah, I should be used to it by now. He almost made Cal piss himself when I brought him home.”
Aelin snickered. “And he took great pride in that, he did. Such a male thing to do.”
“What’s that about male things?” Rowan sauntered into the dining room, affectionately tapping his daughter’s messy bun.
“Dad!” she complained, frowning at him.
“What?” He dropped a kiss on Aelin’s head. “I can’t say good morning to my daughter?”
“You know what I mean,” Lana grumbled.
“Yeah.” Rowan settled himself next to Aelin, covertly resting his hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry I was cranky, Lana.”
“Liar,” she muttered, winking at her dad.
He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Gods save me, I’ve created another Aelin.”
“That’s a good thing,” Aelin retorted, pinching his side. “What your dad means is that we’re not going to be grouchy about curfew.”
“Which doesn’t mean we won’t still give you a curfew,” Rowan added, his tone a little more severe than intended.
Lana’s lips tightened. “I don’t see why you still need to do that, I’m an adult.”
“Because you still live in our house--”
“Because we want you to practice managing your nights before you have to do it on your own,” Aelin cut in.
Lana rolled her eyes. “Okay, but midnight? Seriously?”
“Midnight is a perfectly reasonable time,” Rowan explained.
She scoffed. “No, it’s not! Dad, most of my friends don’t even have a godsdamn curfew, and I feel so awkward for having to leave.”
“Your friends are all staying out until two, three in the morning?” Aelin arched a brow, meeting her daughter snark for snark.
Lana said nothing.
“Hmm.” Aelin sipped her coffee. “Well, then let me ask. What do you think a reasonable curfew is?”
“Ten,” Rowan mumbled, earning himself a kick under the table. “Ouch!”
“What was I just telling you about her not being fifteen anymore, Ro?”
He took a long draft of his coffee to avoid answering.
“Two a.m. seems fair to me,” Lana offered.
Aelin propped her chin on her hands. “Really?”
“Yeah, because--”
“DO WE HAVE EGGS?!” Bran’s yell interrupted the conversation, their fifteen-year-old son sticking his head into the dining room. “There’s no eggs in the fridge, Mom!”
“Go look in the garage fridge, B,” Aelin called, chuckling wryly at her boy. “I swear, this child is going to make me go broke.” She turned back to Lana. “Keep talking, honey, sorry about that.”
“None of us can control Bran,” Lana snickered. “Anyway. I think two a.m. is fair because that gives me enough time to stay out if everyone’s staying super late and still be able to leave around one or so without having to explain.”
“Hmm.” Aelin flashed Rowan a look. She’s got a solid answer.
Two? Seems like too late to me.
“And what about for date nights?” Rowan asked, flicking a knowing glance to Aelin before turning to Lana. “Two a.m. on date night wouldn’t be for...”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” both of the women squawked, Lana’s face flushing tomato-red and Aelin on the verge of smacking her husband.
“I was going to say...weed?” Rowan attempted an innocent face. “Yeah. Weed.”
“Aren’t you a rotten liar,” Aelin snorted. “Mind out of the gutter, my love.” She flashed him a secretive smirk. “Just because that was us at her age doesn’t mean that--”
“Okay!” Lana buried her face in her hands, blocking her ears. “You can stop now!”
Aelin and Rowan both laughed, but stopped before they could embarrass their eighteen-year-old daughter any further. “I’m still thinking two a.m. is too late, Lana,” Rowan said, weaving his fingers with Aelin’s beneath the table.
“I just explained why,” she grumbled, shifting in her seat. “Gods, Dad, I’m not--”
“‘Sup?” Bran carried his scrambled eggs into the dining room and plopped down at the table, shoveling a giant forkful into his mouth.
“Brannon,” Rowan sighed, pressing his fingertips to his forehead, “read the room, son.”
Bran blinked slowly. “Uh...am I not allowed to eat at the table now?” He snorted. “What about ‘no food on the carpet,’ huh?”
“There’s a reason we have barstools, mijo,” Aelin interrupted before her husband could say something he’d regret. “Shoo.”
“I’m just trying to eat breakfast, gods,” Bran grunted, begrudgingly collecting his plate and returning to the kitchen.
“Don’t speak to your mother like that!” Rowan called after his son, “You--urk!” He choked on whatever else he was about to say.
“One child at a time, babe,” Aelin said, pulling his attention back to Lana. “All right, we’ve heard your offering. And now I’m going to explain our position on curfew so you can hear our thought process.”
“Wonderful,” Lana mumbled, barely audible.
Rowan inhaled sharply, but Aelin beat him to a response. “Honey, you want to be a trial lawyer, right?” Lana nodded. “Well, dear, this is how hearings work. Each side gets a chance to explain their position. You’ve shared yours, and now we get to share ours. Okay?”
“Okay.” Lana folded her hands atop the table, listening.
“Thank you.” Aelin flicked a brief glance to Rowan. “Much as we want to keep having you home by ten or eleven, we have to realize that you’re an adult now, and you have your own car, and we can’t keep expecting you to cohere to the same levels as your younger siblings.”
“Right,” Rowan added. “It’s hard for me especially, Lana, because to me, you’re always gonna be my baby girl, and your mother is always telling me I have to remember that you’re all grown up and about to move halfway across the country for college. So...so it wouldn’t be fair to make you be home super early.”
Aelin squeezed her husband’s hand. “One o’clock. That’s our counteroffer. It’s far enough past midnight that you won’t have to beg out early, but it’s still a reasonable enough hour that you can get a decent amount of sleep if you have to be up for work or anything else.” She loosed a soft exhale. “Does that make sense?”
Lana was wearing her thinking face. “Yeah, it does,” she said quietly, turning over the offer in her head. “Here’s the thing, though--what about sleeping over?”
“No,” both Aelin and Rowan replied in unison.
Lana raised a brow. “I meant with my friend group, not my boyfriend! Gods, I’m very very aware of the rules about that!” Her cheeks flared bright pink as she protested.
“We know you do,” Aelin reassured her. “And honey, sleepovers are sleepovers. You know what we want to know when you spend the night at a friend’s place.”
“Too much,” she grumbled.
“What?” Rowan tapped his ear. “Didn’t quite catch that, Lana.”
“Y’all want to know way too much,” she repeated, sparks like her mother’s flaring in her bright green eyes. “Seriously, I’m eighteen, I shouldn’t have to tell you who’s there and if the parents are home and all that shit!” She drew a deep breath. “And honestly, neither should Bran or Em. I mean, I get wanting to know if there’s a parent or two home with the group when you’re like twelve or so, but in high school?” She scoffed. “Surely even you can see how awful that makes us sound--we don’t want to be that kid!”
“Yeah! It’s freaking embarrassing!” chimed in yet another voice. Their fourteen-year-old daughter Medora, who wen by Em or Emmy, stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, obviously having caught that last part of the discussion. “Come on, Dad, why the f--um, heck--do I have to call my friend and ask her if her parents are gonna be home?”
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Medora, we’re talking to Lana right now,” he returned, exasperation thickening his voice. “Or at least we’re trying to.” Emmy rolled her eyes and vanished into the kitchen, making her presence very much known by rattling the dishes she was using. He sighed quietly and turned back to Aelin, grimacing ever so slightly.
“We can discuss that later, with all of us,” Aelin said, diplomatically. “Alanna, is there something you want to counter?”
Lana blinked. “It scares me when you use my full name, Mom.”
Aelin cracked a half-grin. “I’m just using it to get you back to the conversation, mija. What’s your counteroffer?”
“One-thirty.” Lana’s emerald eyes were completely focused, completely serious. “I’ll be home by one-thirty anytime I go out. In return...” She trailed off.
Aelin poked Rowan in the ribs. “Stop brooding, buzzard.”
He raised his brows at her. “I’m not brooding, love.”
“Mhmm,” she deadpanned.
He wrinkled his nose but toned down the intensity of his stare. “Better?”
“Much.”
“As I was saying,” Lana resumed, shuddering slightly at the way her parents weren’t even trying to disguise their flirting, “I stick to one-thirty curfew, and you take on faith that I’m being perfectly responsible for myself. Deal?”
“Define ‘being perfectly responsible,’” Rowan requested, steepling his fingers. “That’s a pretty open term, kiddo.”
“Not a kiddo,” she mumbled, her lips quirking. “That means you believe I’m making safe choices and not getting intoxicated, that I’m with friends when I say I’m going with friends, that there are people I trust around me, and that I am aware of my surroundings. All the things you want me to spell out for you, you take on faith when I go out.” She settled back in her chair. “Does that make sense?”
Aelin nodded slowly, turning over her daughter’s proposal. Damn her, when had their little Lana grown so mature? “I have an amendment.” She met her daughter’s calm gaze. “We agree to one-thirty curfew and to take on faith that you’re being responsible, and you text us when you’re ready to leave and if anything comes up.”
“We just want to know if we’ll need to leave the door unlocked and a light on for you,” Rowan added. “And it’s...well, it’s just nice to know to anticipate your arrival. I’m sure you text Cal when you’re leaving to meet him?” His daughter nodded. “This is the same idea.”
Lana mulled over the addition. “All right.” She locked gazes with both of her parents. “I agree.”
Aelin blinked. “That was...surprisingly non-painful.”
Lana snickered. “Live and learn, right Mom?” She winked. “Good luck having the interrogate the friends’ parents talk, though.”
“Don’t think you’re getting out of that,” Aelin smirked. “You introduced the idea and you have more technical language than your siblings, so you get to help them explain their concerns.”
“I should start billing assistance hours,” Lana joked, collecting the empty coffee mugs. “Gotta pay for college somehow, yeah?”
“She’s a funny one, she is,” Rowan chuckled, ruffling her hair as he stood, pulling Aelin up with him.
“Ugh, I heard that!” Lana called. “And we can all see you, stop it!”
Rowan just pulled Aelin into a tender kiss, completely ignoring his teenage children’s assorted groans and grumbles. They’d learn to enjoy PDA soon enough, they would.
He was more than willing to bet Lana already did.
Grump and grouch as he might, he very much approved of her boyfriend, Callan Ilnair, and he knew Aelin did as well. Of course, they’d both made the poor boy almost piss himself from nerves when Lana first brought him home--and then they’d properly embarrassed their daughter by telling her boyfriend stories of her as a small child. Furthermore, Aelin was old friends with Cal’s dad, Cassian, having known him in middle and high school, and nothing gave the two of them more glee than making the teenage couple blush scarlet with embarrassment.
Unexpectedly, Lana graced her mother and father with a brief hug before she went upstairs, shocking Aelin once again with the realization that her eldest child was taller than her.
Got that from her father, she did.
“Love you,” she whispered, hearing Rowan repeat the same thing.
Lana’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Love you too. Thank you for talking with me.”
A bit of a targeted comment, but Aelin let it go. She knew how often she fell into the habit of talking at her kids, rather than with them.
If only they would stop growing up so damn fast.
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@nerdperson524
@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
@morganofthewildfire
@rowanaelinn
@wesupremeginger
@stardelia
@shanias-world
@mybloodrunsblue
@swankii-art-teacher
@wordsafterhours
@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks
@violet-mermaid7
@holdthefrickup
@goddess-aelin
@rowaelinismyotp
@dealfea
@irondork
@elentiyawhitethorn
@live-the-fangirl-life
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@chronicchthonic14
@lovely-dove-zee
@sweet-but-stormy
@hanging-from-a-cliff
@jorjy-jo
@rowaelinrambling
@thegreyj
@silentquartz
@backtobl4ck
@throneofus7
@elizarikaallen
@llyncooljones
@booknerdproblems
#my writing#answered prompt#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#and kiddos#except the kiddos are teenagers now#uh oh
124 notes
·
View notes
Note
You graced us with Rowaelin and their teenage kids... but how about Rowan being the kind of dad that goes beyond to embarrass his kids 😏 in public
As you wish 👀👀
Word count: 1,225
Warnings: dad fads, language
enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oh my god!" Lana cried, shoving through the garage door with her face flaming bright red. "Why do you do these things?!"
"I don't have any idea what you mean, honey," Rowan grinned, as proud of himself as he could be.
She gestured broadly at his outfit--collared shirt tucked into cargo shorts, black socks, and Birkenstock sandals. And the baseball cap on his head that fortunately was just one for his favorite team, not the "DAD" one he'd threatened to purchase. "I told you to look presentable and you do this??"
"I'm perfectly presentable!" he protested, smirking. "I'm the portrait of a dad, as I should be!"
She rolled her eyes, the expression so much like Aelin's that it made him stop in his tracks for a moment. "You're so damn cringey, Dad." She didn't give him a chance to respond before she stormed up the stairs and slammed her door behind her.
Rowan sighed, removing his hat and kicking off the sandals. Gods, who the hell thought wearing black socks and sandals was a good idea?
"Guess you're not old enough to know," his wife teased.
He turned sharply to find Aelin sitting atop one of the barstools at their kitchen counter. "Shit, did I say that out loud?"
"You did indeed," she laughed, "dad."
His nose crinkled. "Fireheart, I love you, but please never call me that ever again."
She smirked. "Hey, you go out of your way to embarrass your kids, I get to go out of mine to embarrass you."
"Fair enough," he grumbled, conceding.
"Speaking of that..." She arched one brow at him.
"What?"
"Ro." Aelin hopped off the stool and came to stand in front of him. "Do you ever think you go a bit too far?"
"Uh..." He rubbed his fingers through his hair. "No?"
"Buzzard." She gave him her Mom Look. "Lana's sixteen, she's very concerned with needing to fit in, and you blaring your dad presence to the world might be amusing to yourself, but not to her."
Rowan sighed. "Why do you have to be right?"
"It's my job." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw. "Now go apologize to your daughter and promise not to do that in public."
~
"...And then he showed up like that and I wanted to crawl into the fuckin' floor and die!" Lana groaned, sprawled out on her bed.
"He does that all the damn time," Bran agreed, her fourteen-year-old brother sitting in her beanbag chair. "Gods, it's like every time he comes to pick me up from practice he's got the window rolled down and he's yelling 'I'M HERE FOR MY SON!' and I want to punch something."
Lana snorted. "I mean, it was funny when we were younger, but now? It's just--"
"Stupid," Bran agreed.
"Exactly." She rolled her eyes at him. "I guess it's kind of adorable in a way, but I don't think we'll appreciate that until we go off to college and he sends us pics of him wearing the dad hat we know he's gonna get."
"Why d'you think I wanna go to college far away?" Bran muttered.
"Cause you want to be Mr. Independent," his older sister teased.
He scowled. "Shut up."
"I'm not being rude, B, just honest." She tossed a small pillow at him, affectionately. "Besides, if and when you end up getting recruited--yeah, I know it's your dream--it'll probably be to somewhere pretty far from Orynth."
"Yeah." His expression went distant for a moment. "But that's far off, I don't need to think about it so much."
"Look who's all mature now," Lana snickered.
Bran threw the pillow back at her. "Someone has to be."
"You little shit!" she exclaimed, swatting him with the pillow.
He dodged so it only hit his shoulder and grabbed another of her many pillows, landing a soft hit to her shoulder. "I'm not wrong!"
"I'm the oldest and the most mature, boys don't get mature until they're 26," she returned smugly. "Even then, y'all are still idiots."
"Shut up!" he retorted, the great teenage default answer.
She giggled and was halfway through squishing his face between the two pillows when there was a knock on her door.
"Who's there?"
"It's Dad."
She gestured at Bran. "Go on, I'm gonna have to talk to Dad." She faced the door again. "Okay, come in."
Bran left the room as Rowan walked in, looking ever so slightly sheepish. "Hey, Lana."
"What do you need?" She tried her very best to keep from snapping.
Her father sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."
Lana folded her arms across her chest, not yet willing to forgive and forget. "Dad, do you even try to realize that I'm not a little kid anymore?"
Rowan had the grace not to respond, allowing her to spill out what she needed to tell him.
"I'm never going to hear the end of this from my friends!" Lana's voice shook. "Dad, I'm finally getting to start going places on my own, I'm finally getting to feel more grown up, and I wanted to bury myself in the floor and die. You can't just show up at the mall and do that!" She flicked a tear off her cheek. "All my friends were laughing at me! And now they'll never shut up about it and I'll be the new joke!" Angrily, she faced him. "And it's your fault."
He let her words sink in for a moment before replying. "I'm sorry, Alanna. I really am." He cleared his throat. "I, uh, you're right, I can't just show up like that. Honey, I forget how you're growing up so fast, because you're my firstborn, my first baby, and if parents had our way, our kids would stay little forever."
"But we don't."
"But you don't," Rowan agreed, "and I...I guess I've just blocked myself from seeing how grown up you are, Lana."
She sighed. "Well, I'm gonna be driving myself around in a couple of months, so you'd better get used to the idea."
He shuddered, chuckling. "Yeah, I don't know how my parents ever got used to their kids driving themselves around, I'm terrified."
She laughed softly, coming to sit next to her father and lean into his side. "Please just promise me that you'll stop dressing like that."
"All right, I promise." He looped his arm around her. "That outfit was probably the worst thing I've worn since being in a frat in college."
"God, I do not need to hear about that!" Lana protested, shivering. "I hear way too much about it already from Uncle Aeds and Uncle Lorcan."
"Those little shits," Rowan grumbled affectionately.
His daughter snickered. "Thanks, Dad."
"Of course." He ruffled her hair. "I really am sorry, Lana. I'm the real grownup, I should think before I do something stupid."
"How the hell did Mom let you out of the house?" Lana asked, genuinely curious to know.
Rowan smirked. "She didn't see me leaving."
"Of course she didn't," Lana sighed, her tone and posture an exact replica of Aelin's disappointed stance.
It made Rowan jolt--gods, she was exactly like her mother. "Stop growing up so fast," he mumbled, unexpectedly a little emotional.
She huffed a laugh, her mouth curving up into a half-grin. "Don't think I can, dad."
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@nerdperson524
@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
@morganofthewildfire
@rowanaelinn
@wesupremeginger
@stardelia
@shanias-world
@mybloodrunsblue
@swankii-art-teacher
@wordsafterhours
@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks
@violet-mermaid7
@holdthefrickup
@goddess-aelin
@rowaelinismyotp
@dealfea
@irondork
@elentiyawhitethorn
@live-the-fangirl-life
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@chronicchthonic14
@lovely-dove-zee
@sweet-but-stormy
@hanging-from-a-cliff
@jorjy-jo
@rowaelinrambling
@thegreyj
@silentquartz
@backtobl4ck
@throneofus7
@elizarikaallen
@llyncooljones
@booknerdproblems
#my writing#answered prompt#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#and kiddos#rowaelin#rowaelin family#the whitethorns
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rowaelin Month 2023
Day 1, Song Fic: Stick Season (Part 1)
Day 2, Accidents Happen: So Soon
Day 4, Friends Don't Do This: Just "Friends"
Day 5, A Bad Date: Kiss Me Again
Day 6, Forced Proximity: I'll Take Care Of You (NSFW)
Day 7, Vacation/Outdoors: Stick Season (Part 2)
Day 8, Single Parents: stay a while, it's safe here
Day 10, Guest Stars with Chemistry: It Happened Off-Camera
Day 13: Babies/Kids/Next Gen: Mama's Little Pirate
Day 16, Mob AU: Until Proven Guilty--March, Part II
Day 19, Kids Hear the Tattoo Stories: A Memory Of Your Love
Day 20, Drunken Antics: Who Gave My Wife Liquor?
Day 21, Scars: In Dreams
Day 24, How Rowan Knew "Fireheart": A Visit to Orynth
Day 25, Arranged Marriage: To Honor And Cherish
Day 28, Wartime Sweethearts AU: 1778 (My Soldier Boy)
Day 30, Missing/Alternate Canon Scene: Varese, Reimagined
#my writing#rowaelin month#rowaelinmonth#rowaelin month 2023#rowaelin#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin au#rowaelin and kiddos#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#heir of fire#queen of shadows#alternate canon au#age reversal au#all the aus#rowaelin month fics collected for your pleasure#:)
14 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
memefever
::3
black-stained-glass
and the universe said the light you seek is within
knutsch-die-moehre-blog-blog
Bubble
sydnesy
PENUMBRAS.