Hyper Fixated In School And Now I Have A Full Plot Line And Plan For All The Episodes Of By The Way.

Hyper fixated in school and now I have a full plot line and plan for all the episodes of by the way. Oopsies

By the way

Long hair Rowan supremacy🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

By the way

Inspired by this video, just screamed rowaelin to me, so just a little drabble.

MASTERLIST Warnings: Cursing, and sugestiveness Note: Rowan in a compression shirt has kept me up at night Word count: 705 https://m.youtube.com/shorts/v_Y9WntMPxU

Rowan stood in the back of a store, next to the changing rooms and looked at the clothes he was holding. They were different than anything he usually wears, much more…revealing. But he was beginning to feel curious about different styles, and various types of clothing options, so he just wanted to explore. Though he should be back home, trying to gauge his enemy's, Aelin's, next move, he was here. Well, he was already here, so he might as well spend some time now.

He walked into the changing room, painfully aware of how the clothing clung to his every hollow and muscle as he changed. It was a tight, gray, compression long sleeved shirt, paired with just normal gray sweatpants. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the mirror. He thought he looked good. He did look good.

Walking out to ask the price, the final decision on whether he would be purchasing the garments or not, he heard the familiar ring of the announcment desk sounding into the speakers. About to brush it off for another staff announcment , Rowan started when he heard a familiar voice speak on the other end. "Ahem, yes, hello, this message is addressed to Rowan whitethorn, also referred to as the white knight of Doranelle, I suggest you come outside or this building, and all surrounding establishments, will be blown up from all the explosive dust hidden behind every vent, crack, and corner of this place. Thank you!"

He cursed. He could almost imagine the smirk playing on those perfect lips, ecstatic to get him out. He storms out of the door, turning to the parking lot to find an all-too-familiar red sports car waiting for him outside. Aelin smirks at him, snapping her sunglasses shut and hanging them on the matching red suit, leaning against the car. "Hello, white knight." Rowan just stares,"what do you want?" Aelin frowns at him "Now thats not any way to talk to someone you've known for years now, is it?" "Just spit it out, Aelin," She smirks at him, "not without creating some…. suspense! " she emphasised the word with exxagerated jazz hands and unfolded the glasses to wear them again. Rowan just stared her down, smouldering at her perfectly calm face. How could she be so calm? Even looking at her made him want to set things on fire. It made him feel like he was on fire. "Well, if your really wanna know, it's because I wanted to tell you," She stalks over to him, her face inches from him. He really, really hoped she couldn't hear his heart beat. "next time we meet, wear that shirt." Rowan stares at her, and slowly blinks. Did she really just…? No, focus, Rowan, she's your sworn enemy. She terrorizes the citizens of your city, and she won't leave you the fuck alone. "Cut the shit, Aelin," "What? That's what I wanted to say, and I did," Rowan swivels her, slamming an arm above the brick wall of the parking lot she was now backed up against. "Aelin, is that seriously what you fucking wanted to talk to me about, after threatening me with blowing up a mother fucking building?! " Aelin just looked up at him with a smirk on her perfect, lying lips. "I mean, if that's what's gonna keep you mad.." She runs a hand over his chest, "sure," Rowan recoils, and curses himself for the heat that spread through him at her touch. He runs a hand through his hair, fuming and staring at her, still smiling. She walks over to him, locking both her arms behind his neck, "what's wrong, Ro?" she smirks again "Cat got your tongue?" Rowan just stares at her lips, lined in a deep red colour, and he feels his breath picking up. She leans over ,getting closer to his lips and.. She leans over to his ear. "By the way," The words leave her mouth, husky and sensuous. "Your base has been infiltrated," before he can register what she said, she hops in her car, and drives away.

Fuck. She had distracted him, tricked him. And he had fell for it. Shit. He was in such deep, unending shit.

Tag list:

@mariaofdoranelle

THAT'S SO HEARTBREAKING/WARMING AHHHH

over my heart

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompt: "Acceptance"

word count: 700

warnings: discussions of grief, tw: tattoo needles

*monty python narrator voice* and now for something completely different...enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Except for the consultation, neither of them had spoken. Instead, the steady low thrum of the tattoo needle's buzzing filled the cool, dry air, covering the background hum of the shop's air conditioning. The sign in the window had been flipped to "CLOSED" hours ago, but after business hours was the only time Rowan had wanted to come in for his appointment.

It was easier if there was no one else around.

Over the phone, the tattoo artist had initially hesitated, but Rowan was a close friend and she understood his need to be alone. They had traded emails with her initial sketches based on his descriptions of what he wanted, and she'd finally refined the design to fit his vision and agreed to have him come in that quiet Thursday night. Although her shop faced one of the main streets of downtown Orynth, it was a few blocks away from the popular cluster of bars and late-night shops, so there were typically very few people who walked past the shop after dark.

His eyes were closed, and he breathed rhythmically but not too deeply as she worked, bent over his torso. It would be best if you didn't inhale too deeply, since the tattoo will be on your ribs, she'd explained. Her black-gloved hands were steady, and her bright blue eyes were focused sharply on the path of her tattoo needle as it traced precise lines into her client's skin. He'd barely moved since they finished the consultation and she prompted him to get comfortable for the tattoo, and she would have worried that he'd passed out if she didn't know Rowan Whitethorn better than that.

The man could be as impassive as granite when he wanted to be, and now was clearly one of those times. She couldn't blame him---many of her clients came to her for deeply emotional tattoos, and it had taken all of her restraint not to sob when Rowan had first reached out about this particular tattoo. After so many months of watching him draw further and further into himself, of wishing she or anyone else could reach out and pull him from the depths of his anger, his pleas, his bargaining, and his soul-cracking sorrow, it was a massive breath of relief when he'd asked her to ink him.

Lyria had cast her light over the bleakness of Rowan's past, and when that light blinked out, Aelin was afraid Rowan would never see brightness again.

Beneath her buzzing needle, his heart beat steadily, thudding a gentle counterpoint to the mechanical hum of her work. The strokes of the Old Terrasenian characters unfolded under her skilled hands, an epitaph sketched over Rowan's heart, as he'd requested. I need to carry her as close to me as possible; can you place the piece over my heart? The ink that scrolled over Aelin's own heart hummed, as if in reply, a finely spun thread of soul-deep understanding that connected her to him in his grief. She knew what it was like to lose someone who held the keys to her heart. If Rowan needed a tattoo to help him navigate the twisting path of loss (as she did), she considered it her honor to give him that piece of support.

After she set aside her tools, wiped antiseptic solution over Rowan's fresh tattoo, and carefully covered it in clear film, Aelin discarded her gloves and handed Rowan a small mirror. He angled it down so he could see the Old Terrasenian script over his heart, and the suggestion of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he read the words she's so carefully rendered.

Lyria, beloved light of my heart

Rowan handed Aelin the mirror and traced a fingertip lightly over the clear film protecting the fresh tattoo. Slowly, he sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling the worn cotton over his head with care. As he stood to leave, he met her eyes, and something that could have been understanding passed between them. His lips moved, the words so soft that she didn't properly hear them until after he'd left the shop and closed the bell-laden door behind him.

"Thank you."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

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Rambling thoughts (NSFW)

I don't know why my Brain is so much more productive producing stories at night time. Like just before I sleep. I'm not getting many ideas right now for a plot line but I just KNOW when I get snug and cozy my bar in will be turning those gears, whirring those machines and the sad part is I won't remember half of it when I wake up,

except the exact positions in which he fucks her and how he "peering up from his lashes, an innocent look on his face" while eating her out like THANKS, BUT I'M GONNA NEED A BIT MORW THAN THAT