#rowan in no way prompted this but

[khaotunq]

a little top flop for ur dashboards ♥ mostly for @sollucets because it's xer fault

[tallbluelady]

Reticent

"So how are you adjusting to Urianger being your beau?" A'quexta asked over tea, as though she had not been on the First with the rest of the Scions and watched Rowan and Urianger's initiate their courtship.

"You've... seen," Rowan dodged.

"Aye, I'm sure you've caught them in snogging in the library late at night." Khaliun took a sip of her tea.

"Hey!"

"Well, that's what I'm curious about!" A'quexta's purple eyes sparkled. "The man was reticent with physical contact before, and now there's nary a chance he'd miss to hold your hand or grab you by the waist or -"

"Quex, please. As if Thorsthal doesn't do those same things to you," Rowan said.

"Aye, but this is new," Khaliun interjected. "Master Goggles and Cowl suddenly shows up in a backless chiton and is holding you like his life depended on it. Which it did on several occasions... Anyroad, it must be different for you."

Rowan sighed. "Aye, it is. I like the attention, if you're at all worried about that."

Her two friends continued to look at her expectantly. Rowan felt a blush start to rise up to her cheeks.

"We've just started courting!"

[needleandstory]

"This is always a place you can come to." (We don’t have any established relationships between our characters, but I’d certainly be interested in a drabble of your characters if you feel like it [and if this fits any of them]!)

A soft thump to their back roused Nat to waking. Their bleary eyes focused in on the glowing numbers of the clock, floating ghost-like in the dark: it was early. Too early. The air stank of alcohol. A small body had tucked itself into bed behind them, forehead pressed between their shoulders, and a hand was making itself comfortable around their waist.

"Miss me already?" they murmured. Soft fingers--certainly Rowan's--dug into the fabric of their shirt, and they turned to face him.

He didn't answer. He gazed up, mouth soft, gaze unsteady, before his hand shot up and grabbed the back of their neck. He yanked them down, hard, and pressed up to meet them in a kiss.

Nat had seen Rowan drunk a thousand times. They had seen him, arms wide, walking across the top of the bar, insufferable grin on his face. They once shivered, his breath warm in their ear, as he told the worst joke anyone's ever heard. They had looked into his eyes, hazy with alcohol, dark and deep, as he looked at them like they were the only star in the sky. Never had they seen him quite like this: Rowan kissed Nat like a man drowning--messy, warm, and wet--and, sleepy as they were, Nat would not withhold from him his air. They hooked a knee over his hip.

-----

The next day found Nat and Rowan sprawled out together on his bed. He lounged between their legs, head resting on their stomach, as he played on the Switch, but their gaze had wandered from the screen to the open window. Thin, grey light struggled to pierce through the layer of clouds to reach the glass, but the breeze was refreshing, cool and mild. The air smelled of imminent rain. It had been twenty minutes since Rowan last said a word.

Nat shifted back suddenly, dropping Rowan and startling him out of his dead-eyed stare on the screen. He shot a baffled glare back at them, but they tucked in their legs and rolled off the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked.

They popped up on the other side of him, sliding up to hold his thighs in their arms. "I'm just wondering, that's all."

"Wondering what?" He raised an eyebrow, but curiosity glimmered in his rote answer.

They sat up properly, keeping his thighs pressed to their shoulders and hauling him up with them. "Why you've been so quiet. It's bizarre."

He jerked in their hold--yanking his hips full-force, his torso pulling away--but they held fast. His shirt fell. He huffed. "You're bored."

They tried not to get distracted by the newly revealed curve of his stomach. Adopting an interrogator's tone, they declared, "You're avoiding the question."

"Ever considered your taste in games is shit?"

"Bzzt! Wrong answer." Turning, they bit his thigh, and he cried out his objection--but he was grinning now, even as he bucked against them. Nat said, "My taste is impeccable. You've got two more chances."

"The hell are you even on about? I haven't been quiet. I know it's been a fucking while, but believe it or not, I shut up sometimes. Sometimes, I like a little goddamn peace and quiet." He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, as if that settled that.

Their hands closed around the fabric of his pants, fists full of certainty. They bit him. "Bzzt! Wrong answer. Last chance."

He affected a sigh, making himself a little more comfortable. "God damn, are you that impatient these days? You almost sound worried. I didn't know you missed the sound of my voice that much."

Nat took a beat too long to answer. Rowan cracked open an eye. He asked, "Does that satisfy you?"

They looked down at him. For all his relaxed posing, tension wound in the wiry lines of his arms, and suspicion hardened the line of his brow. He was at their mercy, but by his good graces only. They nestled their face down, pressing their nose into the seam of his pants. "No," they declared. "You haven't been anywhere near loud enough."

[sollucets]

just wanted to say your last prompt was something i didn't even know i needed 🤗❤️ i loved the idea so much! it didn't even strike me that namo wasn't there during the whole chadok-dika-reveal until and while he might have caught up about most everything, only those who were in the room probably know the specific fact that dika was *aye's* uncle. and it totally makes sense that it's just something that just happens to slip under the radar for him! not even because the boys are purposefully keeping it from namo, but just because none of the other boys would want to bring such a sensitive topic up around aye and there was so much other stuff going on. anyway. im just sooooo asdfghjkl feral over that whole prompt and concept gah! also akk comforting aye in the presence of his friends 🥺 it just really makes me feel some type of way and i really love what you did with it! thank you for writing it 🙏❤️ ok end of my rambling in your askbox byeeeeeee

nooo nonny come back i want to ramble back at you!!!

so because liz’s prompt was the chronologically last one and it had been in my inbox since may 28th i had a lot of time to think about what i wanted to do with it right. namo obviously wasnt in the room, and hes part of their group Sort of but i think they get closer for real during the os2 timeskip, so it makes sense for him not to get told

but mostly it’s because i think that. suppalo still wouldn’t want the news of dika’s death to get out, right. because. well. theyre all for protestors now of course!! haha!! love free speech!!!!!!! [teeth clenched] but i cant imagine them loving that getting out. you know? employment discrimination that led to suicide of a young teacher. it doesnt look good for their pr. i can imagine aye having to fight to get the truth out honestly. but then also on a personal level….. itd be brutal to announce that in suppalo you know. its just something i thought about

also also! so! that prompt was an intentional callback to the e7 beach scene where they do an impression of dika and aye runs away because no one knows. this time akk comforts him there, this time they all know, this time he can sort of look at it more positively even if it still stings :’) weh

thank you for writing in nonny im so glad you enjoyed it 💜

[elitheaceofalltrades]

Zinnia Cottage - Excerpt (323 words)

The gentle sounds of nature filled the air as the sunset on Picari. The birds played their final chords before the cicadas would start their section of Gaia's melody. The wind rustled the leaves and the brook babbled away as their accompaniment.

Rowan leaned against the open doorframe, caught up in the splendour. The view of the blend of oranges, pinks and purples from the hilltop was always astounding. It took your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. A flock of sparrows flew past, probably heading to the trees to rest. They were symbols of perseverance, community, and hard work here and reminded Rowan of the occupants of Zinnia Cottage.

Glancing inside showed Ainsley sprawled on the recliner, book fallen shut in his lap. Adair & Sinclair sat facing each other on the couch, signing away rapidly. They were having another pun competition if the giggling Monroe was anything to go by. Cheyenne was puttering about in the kitchen, a light hum heard under the pots and pans. The overturned board and scattered pieces by the entry were the only signs of Cedar and Cassidy. Rowan decided not to wonder if they were fighting or causing mischief; it was 50/50 either way.

Turning back to outside, Rowan felt a little teary and a bit breathless. This time not because of the view but from fondness and the awe of the domesticity. The eight of them had overcome adversity, loss and betrayal and survived. They'd made a new home, made a new family, chosen each other over and over and over again. If someone said 3 years ago that they'd end up in this town, with these people, none of them would have believed it. Now, with everything that has happened in that time, all Rowan can do is bask in it. The view, the peace and the promise of dinner, laughter and joy to come.

It felt warm.

~Eli

Ace of All Trades, Pro at None😆

Buy me a coffee

[letsgetrowdy43]

Toasting to forever—

Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Requested by @sweetestdesire: My sweet Rowan, you already know who I’m gonna request. May I please request a blurb with our sweet Quinn with the prompts "I love that grumpy face of yours." and "I'm not grumpy. Not everyone can smile all the time. Except you." 🥹

Warnings/notes: No warnings, just some tooth-rotting fluff 🩷 Also thank you so so much, Brynn, my love for the request, I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!!

End of summer celebration!!

There was never something Quinn hated more than celebrating himself, but for his soon-to-be wife, he would do nearly anything to make her happy.

Even if that meant ordering round after round to keep her happy and toasting to their upcoming marriage.

This is what led him to this moment—two weeks before their wedding, sitting in a booth and scattered across a dimly lit bar in downtown Detroit, surrounded by all their closest friends and family. It was a joint bachelor and bachelorette party, kicking off the whirlwind of wedding activities that would fill the next two weeks.

Their schedule seemed never-ending at that point, from last fittings with the tailor to the helping of making table centrepieces, the list of to-do's seemed never-ending, so this night was meant to be a break of sorts.

But to Quinn, this night felt like a necessary evil. He didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, but for his soon-to-be wife, he’d endure it.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably on the leather of the booth bench, trying to ignore the clamour of the rowdy group around him and the sweaty Brady and Josh loudly screaming lyrics along with the woman singing karaoke on the stage. The music was loud, the drinks kept coming, and the laughter echoed off the walls.

Normally, he would’ve been fine with a quiet night at home, but tonight wasn’t about him.

Tonight was about her and him being with the people they loved the most.

He glanced over at his fiancée, who was at the other end of the bar bidding goodbye to her pregnant cousin and husband, her face lit up with joy as she was pulled into a short hug. She looked radiant—so effortlessly happy—and for a moment, he couldn’t help but smile. He loved seeing her like this, carefree and surrounded by the people they both cherished.

Still, as much as he adored her, the chaos of the bar was wearing him down. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of the long night and the constant attention on them both. His fiancée caught his eye from across the table and gave him a soft smile, one that silently said she understood. She knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of big celebrations, and yet here he was, enduring it for her.

She stood up, excusing herself from the conversation on the other end of the table and made her way over to him, slipping into the booth beside him, her fingers brushing his curls away from his face before she ran her thumb over the stubble on his cheeks.

"Hey," she said softly, placing her hand on his knee, “you okay?” He nodded, offering her a small smile as he caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist, “yeah. Just… it’s a lot, you know?” She chuckled softly as he pulled her gently to sit her in his lap, a smile pulled on her lips as her thumb traced over his features, “I know. But you’re doing great. We’re almost through it.”

Quinn turned his head to press a kiss to her shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapping around her waist and holding her closer, "I love that grumpy face of yours," she whispered like her confession held the weight of a thousand words before she pressed a kiss to his tired frown. Quinn smiled softly into her lips before he shook his head, "I'm not grumpy," he mumbled as her face morphed into a look of unconvinced, "Not everyone can smile all the time, except you."

The quiet 'except you' pulled a wide grin from his fiancee as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his cheekbone, and once again to his growing smile.

“I am happy. And you know what? I’m even happier because you’re here with me. I know this isn’t your thing, but it means a lot to me that you’re trying.” “For you?” Quinn smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d do anything.”

They sat like that for a while, tucked into the corner of the bar, away from the loud energy of the party. For a brief moment, it felt like it was just the two of them in their own little world, Quinn's favourite feeling.

“I can’t believe we’re getting married in two weeks,” she said quietly, her fingers playing with the collar of his polo, her fingers moving to play with the chain hung around his neck. “Neither can I,” he replied, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “but I’m ready for it. More than anything.”

She smiled up at him, leaning in to kiss him gently, her hands cupping his cheeks as she closed the gap between them once again, but this time a little more heated and lovingly as she pressed a hot and slightly heavy kiss to his chapped lips. “I am too. And after all this is over, we can just relax, okay?” she mumbled as she pulled away, forehead pressed against his as his fingers gently squeezed her torso.

“Deal,” Quinn whispered against her lips, pulling her close once again.

-

-

-

[mariaofdoranelle]

Maria plz bring back the booty call i need it to continue

Your wish is my command, Nonnie! <33

The Booty-Call Dare - part 3

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, July prompt “Healing”

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: idiots idioting

Words: 1064 (sorry!!!!)

The decision to put Rowan’s key in separate keychains from her car and apartment was much more emotional than logistical, Aelin thought as she searched the bottom of her big work purse at his apartment door.

Having Rowan’s key was okay, a rational decision, but having it along with her own felt like too much. Looking after him while he healed from two broken ribs was inevitable—Aelin had work most of the day, but she was still the person he was closest with in town—this wasn’t what she was confused about.

She knocked on the door before opening it to make her presence known, just to be sure.

“Over here,” he called from the kitchen.

Aelin thought she loved that pre-hookup anticipation, but that hour of wait became a whole week, two more to come—the situation brought a queasy feeling in her stomach, always skipping between overjoyed and terrified.

In the kitchen, Aelin found her friend in a clumsy attempt to clean a white powder off the floor with a broom, an open jar of creatinine on the counter before him.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin said slowly, in a low but chastising tone. “You’re not allowed anywhere near a broom… or the gym!”

“I’m not! I—“ Rowan paused under her pointed look, busted between a broom and gym supplements. He sighed. “Have I told you how much I hate this?”

Aelin came closer to hug him, and decided to give him a leap of faith—he’d mentioned before taking creatinine even on his days off the gym, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to exercise with two broken ribs. These days of rest were taking a toll on him, she knew for a fact that Rowan hated feeling useless.

She pecked his lips. “My poor baby.” A few strokes on his cheek as Aelin struggled not to laugh. “Is all this rest stressing you out?”

“Not funny,” Rowan grumbled. Still, he leaned in to give her a warm kiss, biting her lips. “But I like this.”

“You like what?”

“When you call me ‘baby.’”

Shit. Those butterflies again.

Pesticides. Fly swatters. Nets. She needed to kill those butterflies because being with Rowan romantically, much like their friendship, felt too easy, too safe—too dangerous, risking the fall when their booty-call was fulfilled and she was left with nothing.

It was supposed to be a no-strings-attached hookup, and now they’ve been chastely canoodling for a week. It was the longest she’s ever waited before having sex with someone—this was an okay time, but they’ve been seeing each other daily, and Aelin never waited seven dates to sleep with a guy.

Does it count as a date if you’re dining together and kissing while waiting to fulfill a no-strings-attached booty-call?

“I’ll call you that again…” Aelin slid her hands from his head to his shoulders. “If you let me clean this mess. And wash your hair.”

Aelin didn’t miss the slightly greasy aspect of it, or the reason for it—his arm movements being limited due to the fracture.

Rowan ducked his head, his cheeks gained an adorable reddish color. When she looked at him, all thoughts and doubts that were floating around her like dust settled back down, and she only had half a mind to worry—Rowan was either kissing her thoughts away or driving her insane with his stubbornness.

Rowan opened his mouth to argue, but experience stopped him.

He doesn’t want to “take advantage” of her help.

She’s doing it whether he likes it or not.

They’ve had this conversation many times, in many ways this week.

To soften the blow to his feeling worthless, Aelin pressed their foreheads together and said in a sultry tone, “Wait for me in the tub, will ya?”

Rowan looked down at his torso and let out a pained breath. “Just so you know, this is not how I pictured you and me in the tub for the first time.”

Aelin chuckled and kissed his cheek before shipping him off to the bathroom. The creatinine mess was quick to clean, but she stayed a bit longer to assess things. His house was suspiciously clean. Too clean for someone who wasn’t supposed to do most house chores.

At the bathroom, she found him already dunked in water, patiently waiting. Aelin sat at the head of the tub and grabbed the bottle he’d strategically placed close to her: 2 in 1: shampoo & conditioner, the bottle said, before a huge picture of a pine tree. A huge upgrade from his ‘one soap for everything’ system.

“Very high-end stuff. Are you opening a hair salon, Buzzard?”

“I’ve got this little tuft now.” Rowan pointed at the short strands on the top of his head. “Gotta take care of it.”

Aelin had barely begun to massage his scalp when his eyes fell blissful closed, a serene, close-lipped smile on his lips.

“You’re no better than a house cat,” she said, massaging his head. He let out a low noise in his throat that might very well have been a purr.

It happens in moments like this, when Aelin looks at him and his mere existence sends her dangerous thoughts like Oh my God, I think I like you. It wouldn’t be a problem, as long as she found metaphorical pesticides to kill the butterflies soon.

Fingers in his hair, she leaned down to peer at his face. ���Is this when you assume you’re better off telling me if you can’t do something?”

However, Rowan took advantage of their proximity to tug her face closer for a messy kiss. The position was a little awkward at first, but it got better when Aelin moved to his side, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Rowan’s kiss was slow, he hungrily explored her mouth with a rough touch on her hips. The fire he ignited under her skin made her melt into a needy puddle under his touch. Aelin kissed and nipped the skin of his neck, then went back to his mouth, pressing herself against him. It was only when they broke the kiss that she realized his wet body dampened her white shirt, making it near transparent—

“Fuck,” Rowan muttered under his breath, eyes on her torso before he sneaked his hands under Aelin’s shirt, one hand holding her waist and the other teasing her breast through the lace bra.

She moaned into the kiss and leaned closer to Rowan, but that single movement made her lose her balance; in the next moment, Aelin had fallen into the bathtub.

If she and Rowan couldn’t keep it together, the cold water did the trick and tampered the mood, Aelin realized as she laughed it off.

Rowan tugged her closer for a cuddle and kissed the top of her head, knowing they’d just found themselves on the verge of a forbidden strenuous activity.

One week down, two more to go. Aelin would never admit that the wait wasn’t so bad.

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[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part eight 

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: ~5.6k 

A/N: i’m not too sure about this one, but here it is!

series masterlist

The sun shifted, light hitting you directly in the eyes. You groaned, throwing your arm over your head. Disentangling yourself from your sheets … not your sheets, the one on your bed at the castle. 

Lurching forward in bed, a pounding headache set in, and not alcohol induced this time. 

The hungry look in Aelin’s eyes. Rowan’s hands on your face, your hips, in your hair. Aelin’s hand running over your shoulder, down your arm. Soft lips, canines grazing over your neck, whispers in your ear … 

You slammed your palm into your forehead, like you might shake the memory out - or reverse it.  

Was it a bad idea? Probably. 

Did you want it to happen again? Yes. 

Should it? No. 

You debated all of the possible reactions to last night’s events. 

Pretend it didn’t happen? That wouldn’t work. 

Hide out in the staghorns for the rest of your days? First, Ceri. Second, they might be concerned and come looking. 

Tell them it shouldn’t happen again? The most ‘mature’ reaction, but the most terrifying one to you. The next few weeks would be busy, and with a little luck you could limit encounters, and have time to find the courage to say what you needed to. 

“Don’t run away in the morning.” 

Like you’d run all those years ago. Was that what he meant? You’d run to keep yourself safe. But now … you’re struggling to grapple with a reason why that shouldn’t change. Everything was different now, and that meant you should react differently. Gods, it felt like your life was full of ‘shoulds.’ Everything you should, should have, and should not. If you could kill a word and bury it deep under, that would be the target. 

Pounding on the bedroom door. You’d been distracted enough you hadn’t sensed or scented anyone coming - but it was Ceri and Evangeline, and sure enough the door swung right open. The older girl had an apologetic look on her face as Ceri nearly sprinted in, jumping right up on your bed, flopping down on her back. 

You sent her what you hoped was a reassuring smile, and she only grinned back, telling the two of you she’d see you at breakfast. A nice way of informing her she was expected. 

“How was your night,” you prompted your daughter, and was treated to a full recounting of events. It took your mind off of the end to your night - or the beginning of your morning, and her joy was infectious. Listening attentively, you found yourself drawn into her story. 

“We jumped over a massive fire, taller than you!” 

“That’s impressive.” 

She nodded, “it was all magic.” 

“It was,” you added, smoothing out some of her hair. 

A few hours later, another pounding on the door - not the bedroom one this time. Swinging it open, it was him. Instantly, your face turned bright red. His mouth quirked at one corner. 

“Aelin’s still asleep,” he looked past you to see Ceri, grinning at him but not moving. An orange fluff ball was on her lap. Fleetfoot ran past him, running over to greet the two. 

“I’m glad they get along,” you said, as Halle jumped down, and the two went past them, probably to try and find someone to slip them bits of meat. Whenever you were here, so was Halle. Even if they tried, they couldn’t keep her away. 

Rowan was also treated to a full recounting of the previous night's events, something you tried hard to pay attention to - very intentionally not looking at him. Had he come to make sure you hadn’t run away? At least that meant they still wanted you here. 

-

Rowan was a bit surprised you were still there in the morning. He’d not expected, necessarily, but was fully prepared for you to disappear. Just like before. That wasn’t fair of him, not at all, but it didn’t stop the unwanted thought from popping in. You could barely look at either of them, as expected. 

Still, nothing seemed awkward throughout the breakfast - if you could call it that, the sun was already bright overhead. Aelin looked like, and had, just rolled out of bed. He debated what time to come knock on your door, but turns out someone beat him to it. Apparently she’d woken you up around nine, when the majority of the castle was still sleeping off the night before. You’d smiled fondly at her as she told everyone, before ruffling her hair. 

He found himself scanning the table. Their friends, and court, all in one place. Generally it resulted in some level of chaos, but he didn’t mind it. In four days, guests would start flooding in, and he relished in the temporary peace. 

Five months ago, they’d first brought up the ball to you. In the time that passed, you’d started your work as an advisor, and it had been invaluable. Although once word fluctuated to the librarians, they’d stolen plenty of your time with help for research. 

Too much of it, once they’d noticed the absolute exhaustion, Aelin had a little chat with them. Well, Ceri had brought it up first. Never giving any hint that you’d neglected her somehow - Rowan knew you wouldn’t - just that you weren’t sleeping as much, that you’d stay up half the night with books. Your daughter had always been skilled at sneaking around, and she’d only gotten better. 

“Ceri told me you spoke to the librarians,” you said casually, glancing up from the papers you were studying. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” 

Aelin snorted, “they’d run you down to the bone if you let them.”

You would be ‘on-call’ during the week of meetings, but not ‘required’ to attend them, like the rest of the court advisors.

It happened this year several countries outside of Erilea would attend. That was confirmed before your arrival in Orynth, but Ceri’s appearance - and your own, would add an extra layer of interest. Anyone with two eyes could see who Ceri was related to, and he wouldn’t deny her anyway. 

He’s certain people know of her by now, but seeing and knowing are two very different things. He hated it, but it would be good to note who asked too many questions, and everyone in the castle already knew what to listen out for, and that was one item on the list.

Now that Beltane was over, there were several days of different kinds of preparations to do. Ones that were much less enjoyable. 

Ceri was staying for another few nights, but after breakfast you managed to slip away, with Fenrys, before he or Aelin could catch up to you. 

-

“Tell me what happened last night,” Fenrys demanded as you walked through the door. 

“We’re supposed to be working,” you tried to deflect, failing miserably. 

“I can’t do that until I figure out why you’re so …” 

“So what?” you hissed

“Skittish.” Fenrys raised his brows, arms crossing over his chest, daring you to disagree. Unfortunately, you couldn’t. With an overdramatic groan, you collapsed back onto the couch. “That bad?” He took the seat across from you. 

“No,” you closed your eyes. This might be easier to say if you don’t look at him. “Aelin and Rowan kissed me,” it came out barely above a whisper.

“And how do you feel about it?” He asked, and you peeked your eyes open. His expression was carefully neutral, giving away nothing. 

“Conflicted,” you answered honestly. 

“Was it not enjoyable?” A bit of amusement slipped into his tone. If you told him that - it would be a lie, and it would get back to them - he wouldn’t be able to resist making fun of them for it. Maybe if that happened … they’d be inclined to come prove you wrong. 

No. no. no. 

“That’s not it,” your hand ran over your face. “It just can’t happen again.”

“Why?” 

“You’re nosy today.” 

He snorted, “it’s my default.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“You weren’t supposed to agree,” his eyes rolled before his expression slipped back into neutrality. Unfortunately, he didn’t give up. “Why?”

He stayed silent during the long moments you attempted to put words to it. “It’ll make things … messy. Complicated.”

“Simple is boring.” 

“It’s easy. Maybe that’s what I want.” 

“The fact that you said ‘maybe,’ proves that wrong.” 

“What about Ceri? This is probably strange enough for her already” 

“She’s a kid.” 

“Exactly.” 

“So she’ll adapt. Are you scared she’ll ask if you’re special friends again?” You laughed, it wasn’t that funny, in fact the idea of it was horrifying, but it was enough to make you loosen up. 

Once you’d calmed down, Fenrys kept opening his mouth. “It’s obvious you all want each other. Why would you deny yourself?

That damn word again. Are you going to deny her? Are you going to deny him? Your toxic thoughts chose a fantastic time to resurge. Maybe you were nothing more than a way to pass time, a temporary reprieve to their boredom. Something to get out of their system. The mere thought left you feeling dirty, made your skin crawl. You didn’t know if you were capable of seeing them in that light. 

“Maybe I'm a masochist,” you finally responded. 

-

“I don’t know what to do,” she told Lys, collapsing back onto the couch. Twelve hours ago, you’d been here with her. 

“That’s a new one,” Lysandra grinned. “About the kiss?” Aelin scowled, and flipped her off. She hadn’t told her, hadn’t told anyone, but somehow the shifter figured it out and promised to keep it a secret. 

“No,” she gritted her teeth. Although she was a bit lost on that one, something she could figure out with Rowan. One task at a time, she reminded herself. One gods-damned thing at a time. 

First, get you a dress. 

Second, figure out when she can kiss you again. They hadn’t expected you to fall right in with them, although it would’ve been nice. But, the last thing she wanted was to scare you off - and that meant patience. 

Rubbing at her temples, she refocused herself. “On how to get her to go dress shopping.” 

“What’s stopping her?” Aelin kept her mouth shut. 

Definitely not something she’d be spreading around, she’d been trusted with that precious kernel of information. The main reason was to not betray her trust. But, even if you’d given your permission for her to share, she’d be reluctant to. A precious gift. One she’d want to keep to herself. Then again, Aelin had pissed several people off in the past for withholding information. What could she tell Lysandra without giving too much away? No matter what she said, it would imply something, and she refused to lie to her friend. Thankfully, before she could come up with an answer, Lysandra nodded in understanding. 

“Should we ambush her? Take her out to one of the shops?” 

“Catching her by surprise is our best shot,” Aelin paused, “but she’d hate being taken out into public like that.” She grinned at Lysandra, her plan already formed. Emerald green eyes twinkled in response. 

-

You intended on having a slow morning. All of the work you wanted to accomplish for the week was done, and for once you had zero plans. Recently, keeping yourself busy seemed like the only reasonable way to keep your sanity. Two days ago you’d kissed them. They’d kissed you. 

Maybe having zero plans was a bad idea. 

Aelin’s thumb grazing over your lips. Rowan’s fingers sliding into your hair. 

A loud meow snagged you out of the memories, and you mumbled a ‘thanks’ to Halle. At least nobody could witness you speaking to your cat, currently winding herself in between your legs. You leant down, scratching between her ears. 

“What is it?” Yellow eyes stared up at you, before she darted towards the cabinet. “I know Ceri snuck you one this morning.” 

Dried pieces of fish. Would stink up the house permanently, if you hadn’t a small box to contain the … stench. She wouldn’t stop staring, and you caved. A little bit of magic floated it, just high enough for her to lean up, snatch it, and dart off somewhere else. 

Less than a year in Orynth, and it already felt like home. At first, it felt a bit like a betrayal to Antica - to the friends there who’d become family, but … someone could have multiple, you supposed. Part of you might always belong there, but another part was growing its roots in this city, and Ceri was flourishing. That always helped. Your ‘advisor’ role helped too, bringing a different kind of purpose and motivation. Maybe you weren’t ‘vital’ or ‘essential’ to the country, but you felt like you were helping - and that was enough. 

A pulse from the wards showed visitors coming. The feel of their magic told you who, and your cheeks preemptively flushed. Glancing at the clock, Aelin was up early, for her. And dragged Lysandra with her. You didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

The door creaked, and then swung open. Maybe you shouldn’t have told them if it isn’t warded, locked, or before eight in the morning, they could come right in. Still in the kitchen, you sighed and started making tea for them. Then, you’d figure out whatever Aelin’s plan is, and try to keep yourself from blushing every time you looked at her. Halle re-appeared, winding herself around your ankles. 

-

Aelin wasn’t surprised you didn’t come meet them at the door. After all, you’d told all of them that if the wards didn’t keep them out, they could come right in. They’d all taken advantage of it one time or another - Fenrys, most of all. 

“You’re up early,” you commented - water set to boil on the stove. Aelin, on instinct, quickened the process for you, flames heating it up. A flash of surprise, you glanced at the pot, before shooting her a smile. “Thank you,” you murmured. 

“We’ve got things to do today,” she grinned, catching your eye. 

You looked at her skeptically, before asking Lysandra, “should I be worried?” 

Lysandra shrugged, and she jabbed her elbow into her ribs. At least you looked amused, rather than concerned. She waited to broach the topic until you were all seated. 

Halle had hopped into your lap, and you sighed - but didn’t try to remove her. There was a barely detectable smell of fish coming from somewhere. 

“Do you have a dress yet?” She already knew the answer. 

“I don’t,” one hand stroked Halle's fur, but the cat was still tense - staring right at Aelin, as if she could read her mind. Maybe it was too early, because it felt vaguely like the cat was warning her. “Ines hasn’t stopped harping on about it, one of her cousins is a seamstress.” 

“Who?” Aelin tilted her head, and you named the exact person she had in mind. 

“She told me last night she already gave her my measurements,” you groaned, “and I agreed to meet her tomorrow afternoon.” Aelin’s heart dropped to her stomach.

“That’s wonderful,” Lysandra cut in, and your eyes darted between the two of them, bottom lip rolling between your teeth. 

“It’ll be just me, here. If you’re not busy, I could use a friend or two with a good fashion sense.” 

Friend.

“We volunteer,” Lysandra replied, “what time?” 

“She’ll be here around two.” 

Meetings for the morning, some of the final preparations, wrapped up at half past one. They’d be a bit late, but could still make it. 

“Perfect timing.” Aelin noticed the cat finally settled. 

-

The kindest way to put it, was you were a wreck the next morning. In fact, you drank several cups of tea designed to keep you calm, and it worked somewhat. Baking carob cookies helped too. 

At least you knew the seamstress, Lya, from nights out. Unfortunately, she detected some of your nerves. 

“I promise I’ll try not to jab you,” she grinned. 

Laughing, you asked, “how much will I owe you?” 

“I’d be willing to trade instead.” That worked fine for you. 

Aelin and Lysandra showed up a quarter of an hour after her, and you were grateful they’d come. Their presence added excitement, instead of dread. They spoke eagerly to Lya, already familiar with her, about different colors, textures, designs, and you tried your best to keep on top of it.

Gold. That was the color you ended up deciding on, and a small gleam appeared in Aelin’s eyes at it. Sleeveless, gauzy and flowing, and a v neckline - bordering on the hint of modesty. 

An hour later, you’d made it through unharmed. You ended up trading three amulets, and a ward to alert of anyone approaching. She tried to insist the ward itself was enough, but you’d refused. If you were exchanging actual cash value, it probably would even out. But, without knowing, she’d made you feel comfortable during it, calming any nerves, and that was worth much more to you. 

Neither Aelin nor Lysandra commented, but they stayed with you until after the seamstress left. Just in time for Ceri to come home, her three friends in tow. The same friends she’d convinced to attend the local school with her, for the three days a week she went. 

“They really are inseparable,” Lysandra commented as you watched them through the window, running right up the path. Ceri paused twenty paces away, and her eyes lit up, she knew who was here. Maybe she remembered Lya was coming today - and you always baked when guests came over. 

The door swung open, and after a few quick hellos they breezed right into the kitchen where the sweets were. 

“And I thought you were excited to see me,” Aelin called after them. Laughter, and then the sound of a box opening. It took a few months, but they always made themselves at home now - and you loved it. 

Minutes later, they sprinted out into the back garden - going to check on the chickens. Lysandra made an excuse to leave, and it was just you and Aelin. 

“More tea?” You asked, heading towards the kitchen. You needed something to do, because looking at her kept bringing back memories, and being alone with her was dangerous. 

Aelin stood, and caught your wrist as you passed, calloused fingers closing around your skin. Knowing you’d probably regret it, you let her invade your space. Jasmine and lemon verbena. Her eyes met yours, before slowly scanning down your face - pausing on your lips, where your teeth bit almost painfully. 

You were frozen in time and place, stuck and lost as her thumb tugged it free, before slipping between your lips. Your skin heated, heart quickening as you swirled your tongue around it. The smallest touch from her should not be doing this to you. 

Hearing the back door open, you both separated, Aelin with a particularly feline grin. 

-

It was Terrasen’s first time hosting, and Aelin was glad to see everyone gathering under different circumstances. Several people who’d been in Orynth during the battle were coming. Dorian, Manon, Chaol, Yrene, Ansel, Sartaq and Nesryn, a few of Rowan's cousins, and more. 

The entourages from Adarlan, and the Witch Kingdom arrived first. 

In the end, they had to tell Ceri Manon was coming, likely with Abraxos, and coached her several times on what not to say. For example; ‘Rowan tells me bedtime stories about you.’

Gods, part of Aelin hoped Ceri did say it - if only to see Manon’s reaction. 

Still, her mind wandered to you. To that night. She’d only had that brief time alone with you, that moment when your eyes met hers, and she saw lust start to glaze over. The feeling of your tongue against her skin, the sound of your heart pounding, she wanted more. You were quickly becoming a sweet addiction. 

-

They weren’t announcing you were Rowan’s ex-lover, but anyone with two brain cells would put the pieces together. Instead, you were an advisor to their Court, and Ceri’s mother. 

It was probably one of the last things on everyone else's minds, but it was circling around in yours enough to cause a headache. Several headaches. 

“I can do this,” you muttered, in front of the mirror. There wasn’t any other option. 

“Do what?” Ceri asked, and you spun around to see her, lurking just outside of the door. She waited for you to answer. 

“Meet all of these new people,” you answered honestly. 

“I’m excited,” she grabbed your hand, tugging you away. “I’ll get to meet Manon,” she peered up at you, “do you think she’ll let me see Abraxos?” 

“You’ll have to ask nicely,” you squeezed her hand. “And maybe wait until you know her a bit better, Wyverns aren’t pets.” 

Ceri agreed, and you headed out. All you had to do was make it through dinner, and then you could overthink everything alone. 

-

She’d been to Terrasen before - since the battle, but visiting with several others would be interesting. From the air, she’d spotted the memorial to her … to her thirteen. Although she didn’t come here often, each time she did it almost felt like she could feel their presence - could hear Asterin; “Live, Manon. Live.” With some difficulty, she let the memory slip from her mind. It never got easier with time. 

Manon didn’t know what to make of Rowan’s child. The girl was perfectly polite, but kept sending her looks throughout the entire meal. Nothing rude, more like curious. 

She didn’t seem afraid of anyone. Her mother, on the other hand … you’d been introduced at the beginning as an advisor to their court. A few others seemed to vaguely recognize your name.  

“The child's mother,” she asked Dorian later on - keeping an ear open for anyone crawling around. “Who is she?” 

“A specialist.”

Manon scowled, at the small smirk growing on his face. He was enjoying knowing something she didn’t. The King didn’t say anything further, waiting for her to keep asking. 

“A specialist in what?” She hissed. 

Shrugging his shoulder, he only responded when she shot him another glare. “Wards, enchanted objects, those types of things.” Mildly interesting, and she noted it for later. “Ceri couldn’t stop looking at you,” he commented. 

“I’m aware.” 

Manon couldn’t tell from where, but she felt eyes on her. Launching to her feet, she began to search around the room, and felt Dorian’s magic doing the same. 

Then - soft paws, and a meow. An orange cat, bright yellow eyes, was staring at her. Not a shifter, and her body relaxed somewhat. 

“Where did you come from?” she crouched down, holding her hand palm up. It, Manon tilted her head, she trotted over, her head rubbing against her hand. Too well taken care of to be a stray, but she supposed there were always mice to find. 

She scented them first, then three knocks on the door. Dorian called them to come in, and Chaol, Yrene, and a good portion of Terrasen’s court followed. 

Aelin stopped as she saw the cat, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Halle,” she called, and the creature looked up. 

“You have a cat?” Dorian asked, “how does Fleetfoot feel?”

“Fleetfoot loves her,” Aelin huffed, “and she’s not my cat.” 

Sure enough, the cat spotted Yrene and bounded towards her - like greeting an old friend. “Or my cat,” Yrene said, but still bent down to scratch between its ears. “How did you end up all the way out here?” Another meow, and a purr.

“Yrene,” Chaol cleared his throat. 

She glanced up at him, to find most of the room staring at her. “She’s part Baast cat, I didn’t know any lived outside of the Torre. “Or that they mixed with other kinds.” 

“It’s almost like she knows you,” Aelin looked between them. 

“Well, they’re certainly not normal cats. To offend one is to insult them all, it's best to stay on their good side.” 

“She’s y/n’s cat,” Rowan finally said. With a swish of a fluffy tail, the creature trotted off through the still open door. Ceri’s mother is getting more interesting. “I should warn you,” he fixed his gaze on her, “Ceri’s recently -” 

“It’s not recent,” Aelin interjected - and she ignored him, 

“Become obsessed with Wyverns - and dragons.” 

“And?” Manon pushed. 

Aelin stalked over, and flopped down on the couch next to her. “We’re apologizing, in advance, for when she tries to badger you with questions.” 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t already,” Lysandra added, taking a seat across from them. 

The subject changed after that, and a bottle of wine was brought. Manon supposed if she was stuck talking to anyone, this group wasn’t the worst option.  

-

They couldn’t force you to, but had offered for you to come meet their friends, aware you’d probably decline. Aelin might consider them friends, but to you - you’d see rulers of different countries, a lot of which most people in Terrasen would never be in the same room as. 

As expected, you turned down the offer and although she understood, Aelin couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed, even as she tried to imagine herself in your situation. Rowan came up with the idea to warn Manon, instead of having Ceri catch her off guard. It was a smart decision, but it would’ve been nice to see the Witch Queen surprised. 

Gods, Aelin wanted you here - even felt like you’d belong. Aelin was waiting to see if you would be brought up, if someone would ask questions. 

“Your friend,” Yrene asked carefully - not sure who to address, “y/n, she’s from Antica?” 

“She lived there for a while,” Rowan answered. 

“I thought she looked familiar.” 

“Familiar?”

Yrene paused, her mouth tightening for the briefest moment - debating what to say. “Antica is busy - but I still remember faces.” Chaol’s hand covered her own, her friend smiling. 

You didn’t come up again for the rest of the night. 

-

Mind whirling, you tapped your foot incessantly against the carpet. Ceri was nearly asleep, Rowan finishing up a story. Likely, he had somewhere to be after this, and with a touch of luck he’d say a quick goodnight and walk right out the door. 

Instead, he stopped, eyes tracking your movements. Your foot stilled. 

“Nervous?” He asked, and took a seat next to you, still a healthy distance away. Shields of wind went up around the room, keeping nosy ears from listening. 

“A bit,” you admitted - fixing your eyes on the wall. It wasn’t nearly as nice to look at as the male next to you. 

“Look at me,” Rowan said rather gently. 

You couldn’t. A few seconds passed. 

“Look at me.” His words were more forceful, more demanding this time. “For fucks sake,” you heard him mutter, and his fingers closed around your jaw, turning your head. The grip didn’t hurt, but it was firm. He almost looked … worried. 

“Rowan, I'm fine.” 

Two fingers tapped together, he caught it. “Don’t lie to me.” 

Shrugging out of his grip, you stood, one hand through your hair. “Fine. I’m a fucking wreck, is that better?” Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced the memories out, back into the past - where they needed to stay. 

Grabbing your arm, he tugged you back down to sit. “Stay at the castle after.” 

It wasn’t a question, and something you’d already agreed to do. The look in his eyes … as if he was saying it for his own reassurance. 

Your throat bobbed, “I will.” 

Rowan’s hand slid down your arm, stopping to squeeze your hand. “Good.” 

-

The next morning, over breakfast, Ceri finally cracked. 

“I’ve heard all about you,” she told Manon. In the rush of everyone getting seated, they hadn’t noticed she was directly across from the Witch. 

Rowan braced himself. 

“Really?” Manon paused, putting her fork back down and giving her full attention. Aelin may have killed all of the Gods, but he still prayed. 

She hummed, “I want to be a Wyvern-rider,” he could tell she was holding her tongue - avoiding saying and a witch. She’d been very upset when they had to tell her Witches were born, not made. 

“I can take you on Abraxos.” The entire table went silent. 

“Absolutely -” Aelin started, he was still in shock that she'd even offered. He glanced at you, on Ceri’s right. Your shoulders had tensed, but you weren’t protesting. 

“Yes please, that would be amazing,” eyes identical to his own lit up in pure joy and excitement. 

Manon’s mouth briefly curled up at one corner, “then it’s settled.” 

His eyes slid to you, again, at how your mouth had tightened. Rowan watched as Manon met your gaze, and you held her stare for a few moments, before nodding almost imperceptibly, before nudging your head towards him.

Wanting him to agree as well. Very briefly, you looked at him.

Ceri had tracked the silent conversation, and now stared at him with pleading eyes. Shit. 

He looked at Manon instead - more like glowered, enough Aelin stomped on his foot. 

A silent stare said; anything happens to her and I'll destroy you.

Manon rolled her eyes, but her mouth indented at the corner. Was he really about to trust her to take her daughter on a wyvern? 

With you already agreeing, and Ceri likely to throw a fit if he disagreed, the decision was already made for him. 

-

The next morning, at dawn, a small crowd gathered as Ceri trailed Manon, approaching Abraxos. You were on edge, and this was insane, but a dream came true for your daughter. Maybe it wasn’t entirely fair you left the final decision on Rowan, but in your defense Manon looked at you first. 

You’d always been good at reading people, and animals, and this was the safest way possible. Plus, a hawk would be trailing them - wind prepared to slow her down if anything happened. 

Abraxos seemed to like her, and Manon explained everything, answering all of her questions. Honestly it seemed to surprise everyone around you as well. It was all she’d talked about last night, and it took some convincing to get her to actually go to sleep. 

You could’ve sworn little screams of joy were heard over the city as they did a loop around the castle and surrounding areas, a white tailed hawk trailing after them. 

Ten minutes, but possibly the longest ten minutes of your life. 

-

You fidgeted with your gown. Gold and elegant, Lya had really outdone herself. It was nothing like the last one, and you were grateful for it. Even then, part of you still wished your parents were here with you. 

“There’s going to be several guards watching over Ceri, all night,” Fenrys said, appearing behind you in the mirror. He’d told you this before - probably dozens of times by now, like he needed to beat it into your head that you were allowed to enjoy yourself. Still, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to tell another person about the last ball you went to.

“Aren’t you supposed to be down there?” 

“I have a few minutes,” he glanced at the clock. “Don’t forget you have to be there too.” 

“You won’t let me.” 

After unnecessarily moving a pin around in your hair, you let Fenrys loop his arm through yours. “Remember to have fun. Remember you don’t belong to anyone.” 

“Obviously,” you nudged him. “What are you trying to say?” 

Voices started filling the hall, and he shot you a sly grin before merging both of you into the crowd. 

-

Ceri glowed. She wasn’t introduced as a ‘princess,’ but a member of the royal household. You were well aware that several parts of the world still shunned children born out of wedlock - especially in Royal families, and seeing her up there made you proud. Proud of how high she held her head, of the confidence radiating from her. 

Although her existence was already known, murmurs still rose in the crowd - just from a few people. A few sharp looks from Terrasen’s court and the Witches, cut those right off. 

The ball was beautiful. Joy, laughter, feasting, and dancing. Gods, just after a few hours you thought your feet might fall off. But as Aelin and Rowan swept across the dance floor, it brought a strange feeling. It wasn’t jealousy sneaking into you, but a realization.

There would never be a place for you there, with them, not with how perfectly they fit together. As far as you were concerned, whatever that night was - physical attraction drove it. Nothing more. It couldn’t be more, even if you wanted it to. Giving in to that same desire … it wouldn’t end well. If you grew attached like that, it would rip your heart out once they realized you didn’t fit, and that would come eventually. 

You can’t speak for them, a little voice whispered in your mind. Likely part of you  trying to convince yourself it could work. But, it wasn’t like you to wait around in denial. 

‘You don’t belong to anyone,’ 

When a witch strode up to you with confidence, asking if you wanted to dance, you said yes without a second thought, sore feet forgotten. When she asked if you’d like to get some fresh air, you agreed. 

In a private corner of a garden, her hand slid around your waist, the other sliding into your hair, you let yourself lean into the moment and forget. 

-

The light hit your dress at all of the right moments, drawing his attention to you. Gold. He knew Aelin must’ve been behind it. You were absolutely beautiful, and each person you danced with seemed charmed. He hadn’t made his way over to you, but he planned on it at some point throughout the night.

Just as he thought he had an opportunity, your last dance finished, Rowan saw you smile at her, watched the witch lead you from the ballroom, and couldn’t do a damn thing.  

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh

[phoebe-delia]

can you do a jeddy or drarry tis the damn season fic... i loveeee your fics btw!!

Wireless Fic Claim: 'tis the damn season

I got this ask at least 2 years ago, and I've been meaning to write a fic for this song for even longer. So when I saw the lovely @sky-is-torn prompted it for @hd-wireless, I knew it was time.

Thank you to the mods for running a great fest as always. I've also got to thank my friend @greattemptation for the pep talks and brainstorming. And, last but never ever least, @basicallyahedgehog because none of my fics would make it out of my drafts if not for Rowan.

Sky, and anon, this is for you. Anon, I hope you see this (not that I in any way expect you to remember asking it) and Sky, it was a joy to get to write for you.

Please enjoy Drarry being idiots in love!

Potter turns up outside his hotel room on December 23rd wearing tight jeans, a green jumper, and a crooked smile. “Hey,” is all he has to say for himself, and Draco is momentarily enraged.

But he doesn’t say a word. He grabs Potter by the front of his sweater, pulls him easily into the room, and pushes him against the wall for a searing kiss.

Their little Christmas tradition started in Eighth Year, with both of them spending the winter holidays hiding out at Hogwarts; Potter, from the Weasley family after breaking up with Ginevra, and Draco from, well, everyone.

Potter had sat next to Draco in the Great Hall with a shrug.“Might as well not be alone. Even if it’s you.” And dinner turned into dessert, which turned into the two of them passing a bottle of firewhiskey back and forth. “Swiped it from my father’s personal collection at the Manor. It’s not like he’ll be needing it in Azkaban. I hope he rots.”

To this day, Draco isn’t sure why that, of all things, is what made Potter snap. He doesn’t know how Potter took that as his cue to close the distance between them and touch his mouth with soft lips instead of a closed fist.

He doesn’t know why the universe seems to keep placing him in Potter’s proximity every time he returns to London. He doesn’t know how they keep falling into bed, every year, like clockwork.

To this day, Draco has tried not to question it.

Read the rest on AO3

[leiawritesstories]

Mom, Please!

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompts "Lake" & "Splash"

Word count: ~1k if you squint 😂

Warnings: swearing, teenage antics, Rowan getting grey hairs from stress

Enjoy!!!

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

"I hear footsteps," Aelin mumbled, half-drowsy.

"Go back to sleep, Fireheart," Rowan mumbled back, burying his face in her hair. "It's probably just a rabbit or something."

"At---" She cracked her eyes open and stared at the fuzzy numbers on the clock across the bedroom. "One in the morning?"

"Mmmh, fine." Her husband attempted to push himself upright and flopped back into bed with a groan. "Dammit!"

She kissed his shoulder. "Don't throw your back out, old man. I'll go check on things." Aelin pushed herself out of bed and tucked the covers up over her sleepy, grumpy husband, who grumbled something about I'll show you a thrown-out back as she stepped into her slippers and crept out of their bedroom.

The hallway of the lakeside cabin was dark and silent, broken by strips of silvery moonlight filtering in through the skylights. Aelin came into the living room and paused, wondering why the hell the sliding door that led to the patio was cracked open. Had one of the kids forgotten to close it?

And there were those damn footsteps again.

Slowly, she crept up to the windows and nudged the curtain aside just enough to peer out and find---"Gods above, Mom!"

"Holy shit, Lana!" Aelin and her oldest daughter screeched at each other at the same time, and Aelin leapt back from the window as if it had slapped her, wishing she could scrub the sight of Lana and her boyfriend playing tonsil hockey out of her eyes. "Fucking hell," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. "It's too damn late for this."

There was a rustling outside the house, and a very sheepish Lana snuck back inside through the patio door to find her mother sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. "Mom?" she ventured. "Are you...okay?"

Aelin grumbled something incoherent in reply.

Lana discreetly tugged her sweatshirt's hood up, relying on the shadows it cast over her neck. "Um, Mom?"

"I'm fine," Aelin mumbled. "Just gonna have to tell Yrene about this. You could've at least mentioned that Cal's family was here too."

"I didn't know he'd be here," Lana whispered, blushing an adorably bright pink. "He surprised me."

"Pebbles on your window and all that romantic shit?" Aelin teased.

Lana grinned, her smile a mirror of her mom's. "Yeah."

"Can't hardly blame you, then." Aelin stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed before your overbearing father decides I've been gone for too long and hurts himself trying to find his way down the hall in the dark. G'night, sweetheart."

Rowan, of course, was awake when she came back into the bedroom, fumbling for his glasses. "Stop that, buzzard."

He sighed and flopped back into bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just Lana and Cal tangling tongues out behind the patio." She turned onto her side and fluffed up her pillows.

Strangled wheezing erupted from Rowan, and Aelin flipped back over to rub her husband's back until his shock dissipated. "The fuck?" he croaked.

She chuckled and handed him his water. "You know, Lana's boyfriend?"

"I know who," Rowan grumbled. "When? How? Why?"

"Ro, honey, you really don't want me to answer any of that." She kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."

~

The summer sun shone brightly over the lake, and Aelin lounged comfortably in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the laughter surrounding her family.

"Owww! Get away from me!" The shrill shriek was accompanied by a pair of feet sprinting towards Aelin and a smaller body taking refuge behind her chair. "Mom, Bran keeps shooting his stupid water gun at my face!" It was Charlotte, their third child.

"It's not my fault you're afraid of your stupid lashes falling off!" Bran, who was nearly sixteen, yelled back at his younger sister.

Indignant, Charlotte gasped and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. At fourteen and a half, she was the most strongly opinionated of the Whitethorn kids, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "You take that back!" she demanded, and when Bran told her to make him, she picked up a nearby bucket and headed for him.

Aelin opened her eyes and watched her wildfire daughter dump a whole bucket of lake water over her oldest son's head, which resulted in him screaming like a little girl because a frog had happened to be in the bucket and had now found a new home in the back of Bran's swim trunks. She chuckled to herself.

"Kids these days," Lana fake-sighed as she walked past, three more baby frogs cradled carefully in her hands.

"Says the kid who snuck her boyfriend over in the middle of the night," Aelin deadpanned.

Lana's face went scarlet. "Mom, please! Everyone can hear!"

"Just like last night," Aelin added. She winked. "Uncle Fen would be so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Oh my gods," Lana groaned. "You're the---"

"Are those frogs?" A younger voice broke into the conversation, eager eyes peering at Lana's hands. Rielle Whitethorn, the older of the twins by three and a half minutes, jumped up, trying to see the little frogs as Lana put her hands up higher. "I wanna see the frogs, Lana!"

"Shhh!" Lana shot a look over towards where Bran and Charlotte had moved their water gun fight into the lake, joined by Cal and two of his brothers. "I'm gonna dump them on Bran's head." She winked at her little sister. "Wanna join?"

"Hell yeah!"

Aelin lowered her sunglasses. "Rielle Enna Whitethorn!"

"Sorry, Mom." Rielle was ten, and she and her twin brother Declan were like sponges around the older siblings that they idolized. She ran off, following Lana down to the lake, and Aelin watched with her smile hidden behind her book as the two of them crept up behind Bran and successfully released the frogs onto his head.

He howled and scrambled frantically, arms flailing, until he finally gave up and ducked beneath the water to get the frogs off of his head. Aelin snickered, beyond pleased that her children had inherited her fondness for fun little pranks.

Down in the lake, Cal slung his arm around Lana, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear that made her shake with laughter, and pressed his---

"Gods above," Aelin groaned, shoving her face into her book.

Not again.

~~~

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

[strangersteddierthings]

Writing prompt from this list, requested by @luciana-rowan. #60. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me." with Steve seducing Eddie with dnd.

This was supposed to be like 1.2k tops however you activated my secret trap card, which is DnD.

-

“Okay, that’s gotta be all there is, right?” Robin asks as she flips through the book again, pausing to flip back and forth between two pages, eyes narrowed like these pages have offended her personally. She’s leaning against the customer side of the counter at Family Video, and Steve is on the other so they can be facing each other.

Steve is double checking all the notes they’ve written out on notebook paper, Robin’s neat print mixed with Steve’s quick scratchy penmanship. They’ve finally condensed the contents (pages and pages of contents) into easier to look through notes and once they close Family Video, Nancy and Jonathan are going to join them at Steve’s and help him and Robin organize the notes in a way that will flow and be easier to follow.

Nancy because she’s good at the organization part, and Jonathan because he’s the only one of them that’s ever even played Dungeons and Dragons, even if it was only twice (he’s a good older brother, after all).

“Jesus Christ, I hope that’s all,” Steve slides the notebook across the counter and offers up a hand for the Dungeons and Dragons book. They swap, to double check that neither has overlooked anything.

“You know,” Robin says, “this is a lot of effort for one game. Do those kids really have all this memorized?”

“Seems like it,” Steve groans, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why I need the cheat sheet. I can’t be holding up their game for twenty minutes just to look up if something is allowed or not.”

Robin looks across the counter and grins at him. “I think it’s so sweet that you’re finally gonna agree to play. Going to this much effort for it, though... You might make Dustin cry.”

“Well, that’s the goal now,” Steve laughs. “Dustin cries or I’m flipping the table.”

“Well, now I want to be there. Either would be great to witness!”

“It’s not too late to make you a character,” Steve says, aiming for nonchalance and knowing that he might have hit the mark for anyone else, but this is Robin, and she’s always seen right through him. She was the one he ranted to this last time Dustin had asked (read: begged) Steve to join a game, the time that worked because Steve could no longer think of reasons to say no. He had said no, though, to Dustin’s face, but once he got home, he scooped up Eddie’s damn Dungeons and Dragons player handbook. Then called and recruited Robin to help.

Robin’s smile softens into something less teasing. “I can join, if it’ll make this less awkward for you.”

Steve’s surprised by her answer. “Oh. You’d- really?”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, dingus. You might have had a long-standing weird vendetta about being asked to play but. Well, no one’s ever asked me before, so I guess I never had to think about if I would or not. It’s like you said on the phone ‘it might be nice to just to fight imaginary monsters for once’.”

“Our characters could be twins.”

Robin grins but before she can respond the ding of the door chimes. Steve swipes his hands across the counter, causing the book, notebook, and pencils to clatter behind the counter out of view. Back to work.

-

It all started when Dustin asked him to stay for a game months ago. It was the third Dungeons and Dragons game he’d dropped him off at after they’d survived Hell for the fourth (hopefully final) time.

“We play the game, but it’s also a time to like, catch up and chat,” Dustin said, all but pouting at Steve.

Steve had put his car in park and shut off the engine. “If Wheeler’s basement still smells, I’m leaving.”

“Yes!” Dustin cheered.

So, Steve followed Dustin into the Wheelers’ house, called a hello to Karen Wheeler, and made his way to the basement. There had been several startled looks in Steve’s direction, but he’d just walked past the table and plopped onto the end couch beside El, like it was something he did every day. Eddie, Will, Lucas, Erica, and Mike were already sitting at the table, using whatever they could find as chairs. Dustin and he were the last ones to arrive it seems.

El smiled up at him. “Hi Steve. It is nice to have company. I have been watching by myself, since Max can’t get down the stairs yet.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s got to walk Dustin in every time in case El’s in the basement, all lonely on the couch, watching her boyfriend play make believe. “Happy to keep you company, El. You have any idea what’s happening here?”

“I have an understanding of the story, yes,” El nodded and slid across the couch to be close enough to whisper to Steve. She filled him in on what she knew, which is not much because it was a new campaign, but she had sat with Mike and Will when they made their new characters and had been to the two previous games.

When the game got going, Steve watched as El leaned forward on the couch, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. She had seemed raptured with the story, so Steve started to listen in, too. Dustin must have done a shit job at explaining how this game was played these last years, because as he had watched it progress it seemed more enjoyable than it had sounded when described.

More than that, Steve watched as the stress of real life melted away from the kids and Eddie. They were no longer a group of outcasts who had gone through Hell and barely survived. They were a group of friends having fun in a way Steve couldn’t remember experiencing since he had been in elementary school.

It was two more games and one pool party at his own house later before Steve got the idea to offer his dining room up for the game. Specifically, because at the pool party he saw Max sitting in his living room and did a double take at her, the pieces slotting together in his mind. Max couldn’t manage the steep stairs at the Wheelers house, but everything she needed to get to at Steve’s house was ground level – kitchen, bathroom, living room, dining table.

Next session before everyone scattered to the wind, Steve had said, “Hey, what do you say about moving this game to my house?”

Everyone sitting at the table whipped around to stare at him, mouths open and everything.

“What? My house doesn’t smell like armpit and, uhh, Max could come hang out again,” Steve shrugged and was almost mowed over by how quickly El threw herself on him, wrapping his waist in a hug.

“Yes! Yes!” She answered for everyone.

The next game was moved to Steve’s house. He’d rotated the couch so it would face the dining room table so Max, El, and he could sit comfortably and had even bought a bunch of snacks and soda.

Eddie had been the first person to show up. It had taken him four trips back and forth from his van to the dining room to unload everything he’d brought.

Steve eyes it all critically. “I haven’t seen you use half this shit when you play at Wheelers, yet to lug it back and forth. Do you really need it?”

Eddie shrugged, “Who knows? Better to have it and not need it or whatever.”

 “You load and unload all this shit every game?”

“Yeah. Wheeler helps usually but he isn’t here so….”

“If you had asked, I’d of helped,” Steve said. “I didn’t know you would need it, or if you’d want it.”

“Oh.”

Steve’s not sure what to think of Eddie sometimes. They’re friends now, or at least friend-adjacent. Well, it didn’t used to feel like ‘friend-adjacent’ until Steve started to sit in on the Dungeons and Dragons games. He got to see a freer side of Eddie, then. One that smiled and laughed a bit more than Steve ever saw. It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He’s not- he is not hurt that Eddie hides this part of himself from Steve.

Besides, Steve knows he’s the problem. Because Eddie doesn’t have this problem with Robin, or Nancy, or Jonathan. He’s seen Eddie relaxed and chill when they hang out, so long as Steve keeps his distance. And even if he hadn’t been sure that he was the issue before, he was after the first time they made eye contact during a game (accidentally) and he watched Eddie reigning himself in. Made himself smaller right before his eyes. Steve doesn’t understand why but he does his best to give Eddie space.

He thinks, maybe, that he makes Eddie uncomfortable on some level. He doesn’t know how, or why, or if he can change it.

Anyway, the next few games after that Steve helped Eddie unload and reload his van until he finally offered for Eddie to just keep the things he didn’t need at his house.

“If you don’t, y’know, use all of this to actually plan each session, you can just keep it here,” Steve said as they cleaned up, Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin helping, since Eddie had offered to pick them up and drop them off this time.

Eddie paused in his gathering of papers to study Steve before saying, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I use the dining table unless you guys are here. So, just take what you use and leave the rest.”

Eddie took the Dungeon Master book but left his copy of the players handbook.

-

And those series of events have led to this Thursday night, with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and himself sitting at his dining room table, making a character sheet for Robin, and polishing up the one Steve had already made, because Steve isn’t embarrassed about asking for help these days. Jonathan even brought him the set of dice Will had given him when he’d played.

Robin’s not going to join until the next game, but she is going to come watch. Jonathan had explained that adding one extra character would be easy to accommodate but adding two was harder.

“So, if you like the game and want to continue, talk to Eddie about finding a good way for Robin to join,” Jonathan says, pushing the finalized ‘cheat’ sheet and character back to Steve. “If you don’t like playing, she can just replace you next game.”

“Dustin’s going to lose his mind tomorrow,” Steve laughs, having found that the papers look good, and he should be ready to go.

“I think we’re all sticking around to see it,” Nancy says. She’s volunteered to bring Mike, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin tomorrow night, and Jonathan is bringing Max and Robin when he brings El and Will.

“Hey guys, thanks for this,” Steve says when they clean up and everyone gathers to head out.

“Anytime, man,” Jonathan nods to him as Nancy gives him a quick side hug. Robin gives him a hug that lasts far longer before following them out the door. Steve had asked if she wanted to stay over but her parents are expecting her home tonight.

Once Steve is alone, he heads to the phone and dials Eddie’s number.

Three rings and, “Wayne speaking.”

“Hi Wayne, it’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington,” Steve says.

Wayne doesn’t chuckle into the phone, because Steve’s not certain he can chuckle, but he’s definitely amused when he says, “well, Steve Harrington, Eddie’s not home. I can leave a note for him to call you back. I don’t know when he’ll be here.”

“Oh, a note’s fine. I’m usually up late anyway.”

-

It’s a little past eleven when his phone rings. Steve is half asleep on the couch, but the ringing wakes him right up. And if he trips over his own feet on the way to the phone, there’s no witnesses so it didn’t really happen, did it? “Eddie?”

A soft laugh on the other end of the line, “it’s like you were expecting me, Harrington.”

“I was. Or, uh, I was hoping you’d call any way, not expecting because that feels like… loaded somehow.”

Silence, then, “so what can I do for you?”

“Could you, um, come over early tomorrow? Like thirty minutes sooner could work. An hour would be better, though,” Steve looks down and realizes he’s twirly the phone cord around his finger. He stills his hand and yanks it away from the cord, tucking his fist to his chest to keep it in check.

“Oh, I know what you want,” Eddie’s voice says, suggestive in a way Steve can’t decipher, “Yeah, I can come over an hour sooner.”

He’s been caught before he can even surprise anyone, he realizes. That’s the suggestive tone. Eddie knows. And if Eddie knows what he wants, there’s no way Dustin doesn’t already suspect. Ah well. Surprise ruined but it’ll still be fun for the kids. He hopes. Steve puts a smile on his face so he won’t sound upset with himself when he says, “thanks man. I appreciate it. See ya tomorrow.”

-

Eddie arrives a little more than an hour early but Steve’s not going to complain. He’d been pacing in the kitchen near the front window, so he watched as Eddie pulled up. He has the front door open before Eddie is halfway to the door.

“Someone’s excited,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at him as he passes, moving to the dining room to deposit his armful of stuff on the table.

“Nervous, actually,” Steve says, shutting the door and turning to follow. He almost runs into Eddie when he gets to the turn that leads into the kitchen, and dining room beyond it. “Oh, hi. Thought you were at the table.”

Eddie looks confused. “I gotta go grab the lunchbox. Wait- did you say nervous?”

“What do you need your lunchbox for?”

They stand in the kitchen entrance, just kinda blinking at each other for a moment before Eddie says, in a very confused, slow voice, “maaaaybe I don’t know why I’m here early. What did you want?”

Steve heads to the dining room, motioning for Eddie to follow. He pulls out two chairs next to each other, sliding into one and waiting for Eddie to sit in his. Steve reached across the table, to the player’s handbook and the notebook under it, dragging them closer. He turns to be facing Eddie, sitting sideways in his chair now. “I wanted to see if it was okay for another person to join the game. Today.”

Eddie’s eyebrows get lost behind his bangs with how high he raises them. “What? Who do you know that wants to play?”

“Uh, me,” Steve says, pulling the notebook out from under the handbook, taking out his character sheet and flipping the notebook open to the end of his notes, where he’d taken the time to write out some bullet points with ideas for his character backstory. Then he fishes out the dice from his pocket and deposits them on the table.

Eddie is deathly still and absolutely silent. The only movement is his eyes, which flick between the dice, the pages, and Steve’s face. He’s quiet so long that Steve is worried he made a mistake.

“Or, uh, if you’d rather I not- sorry, I just- Dustin tries to invite me all the time so I thought it would be okay,” Steve says, moving to close the notebook. That’s when Eddie comes back to life, his hand flying out to catch Steve’s, halting his hand.

“No! No, of course it’s fine. I’m just- surprised,” Eddie says, slowly, “you’ve been so against it, very vocally, so I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah. I was kind of an asshole about it all, wasn’t I? But when I think about it, like really think about it, I don’t know why I was against even trying it, y’know? Leftover shit from high school, I think. But I’m not that person anymore, so…” Steve shrugs with one shoulder, not sure why he’s telling Eddie these things. They don’t talk like this, usually. Steve finds he wants to, though. “Plus, watching the games, it looks like you guys have fun. Like, real, forget about your day kinda fun. Besides, Erica enjoys it, and she’s the coolest out of all of us. If Erica likes it, it can’t be just a nerd game.”

Eddie laughs and Steve gets to see that carefree smile Eddie seems to reserve for the kids. “Can’t argue with that. Erica is the coolest of this lot.”

“So, here’s what I was thinking,” Steve says, pulling the notebook between them to discuss the ideas Robin and he had come up with. He was going to play a fighter, so he didn’t have to worry about memorizing spells. If Eddie’ll let Robin join, he’d like for them to be twins, or siblings of some sort at least. Eddie nods, jumps on that instantly. Offers for them to have been separated on accident, so they could work on adding Robin more naturally later, with their two characters having been looking for each other this whole time.

Before Steve even realizes it, he’s been word vomiting for far too long about his character’s backstory and why he’d want to join the Party and Eddie has been silent the entire time, just listening to him, a soft smile on his face. “So, that’s what I got for now.”

Eddie let’s out a whistle and says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Steve’s brain skips, or freezes, or something, because it just replays that whistle and those words for a few second in his mind before it helpfully supplies the thoughts ‘yes’ and ‘I didn’t know I could seduce you’. He’s just had an epiphany. Unfortunately, his mouth is still working while his brain does this, so it says, “are you feeling seduced, Eds?”

“AHAHA!” Eddie lets out a laugh that is more a bark before he stands up quickly, the chair falling backwards because he hadn’t bothered to scoot the chair back to give him room to stand. “Funny. Dustin’s right, you’re hilarious. I need a cigarette,” and then he all but runs out the front door.

Steve just watches him go before picking up the fallen chair. He can’t wait for Robin to get here. He needs to talk to her.

-

When Eddie comes back in, it’s with Robin, Jonathan, Max, El, and Will. Steve slaps his notebook shut quickly and hopes that Will didn’t notice it. Eddie is talking animatedly with Will upon entry, though, so he seems safe. Robin fast walks to the table and scoops Steve’s dice and shoves them in her pocket, because Will will recognize them if they stay out.

Steve stands, notebook in hand, and grabs Robin’s wrist with his free hand and drags her out back. He makes sure the slide-glass door is closed firmly and leads her around to the other side of the pool. He doesn’t want any eavesdroppers.

“Robin. Ok, so you remember by sexuality crisis last year?”

“Of course, Michael J Fox in Teen Wolf got you hot under the collar,” Robin says, “how could I forget? You cried about it.”

“You cried about yours, too! I just wasn’t there for it.”

“Not mocking!” Robin holds up her hands in defense, “just saying.”

“Robin. I think I like Eddie.”

“Oh!” her eyes go wide, and her mouth stays in a little ‘o’ shape for a moment. Steve stands there, letting her process. “Oh. Ooohhhhhh. That- that makes sense in my mind in a way I cannot put into words. Of course, it’d be Eddie Munson -the exact opposite of Michael J Fox, by the way- to also get you bothered. Why didn’t I pick up on that? How did I not notice this?”

“Because, despite our best efforts, we have yet to successfully combine,” Steve says, linking his fingers the way Robin had that day in Family Video before unlinking them to flip a hand back and forth between them. “We do not have time for you to have a crisis about it because I am having a crisis about it, and one of us needs to be level-headed.”

“Right,” she sobers instantly. “Right. We cannot spiral together. You first, I’ll wait my turn. So, you like Eddie. Enough to…. Want to do something about it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that was a quick answer. You… you really like him. Give me the details. What am I working with here.”

Steve thinks about it. “When he held a broken bottle to my neck, I was terrified. And a little aroused.” Robin says ew. “I’ve thought he was hot since then. But… when he came to at the hospital, all high on the medicine. He’d smiled softly at me and the first thing he said to me was glad you’re here, big boy. I think the actual crush started then.”

“Make sense, tracks, what with your hero complex and praise kink,” Robin nods and paces before turning back to him. “And the realization?”

He can’t argue the hero complex and praise kink thing, because they both know that would be a lie, so he answers, “When I was done rambling about my character idea, he whistled and said If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me and my first thought was yes.”

Robin’s eyes light up before she starts marching in a small circle around him as she thinks out loud. “Fuck, Steve, you really don’t do anything halfway. Alright. So, you want to do something about this, but you have to decide what you want to do. Because you are my soulmate and I want you happy, but like Eddie is also my friend and if you are experimenting… Just. You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

She stops her circling to squint at him and read his mind, he supposes, because her face lights up in delight. “Oh shit! It’s not sexy thoughts! You want to like, hold his hand and cuddle on the couch, and like, cook dinner together and serve him breakfast in bed and bicker about whose turn it is to pick up Dustin from school!”

“Jesus Robin, can you not shout that! We are out here, so they,” he flings his hand in the direction of the house, “don’t hear. But, yeah. I… I like him. A lot.”

“I can see that. Like, really see that. You like him so much that just his company would be enough. Disgusting. Let me think,” she waves him off, like he has been dismissed but instead she’s the one walking away, walking figure eights around area in front of him for a couple minutes before whirling around to say, “You have to make your character a flirt. An outright slut, even. For information gathering purposes of course.”

“What?”

“He plays all the other characters, Stephan,” she says, dragging out his name to make it sound like ‘Steff-fawn’, “and you know he’s good at this… being in character thing! So, like, if you can trip him up by being all flirty, then that’s like, got to be a sign that he likes you, too, right? If he doesn’t like you, he can take it in stride. But! If he’s crushing on you, too, this will be like, too good to be true to him, yeah? That’ll fluster anyone, especially if he plays on our team and probably hasn’t had many guys openly hitting on him. Plus, you can always tell when someone likes you. You haven’t been checking for signs that Eddie might like you because you weren’t even aware it might be possible. And I’m not going to get your hopes up, Eddie could be, like, a totally straight dude, but when will it ever be safer to test this?”

Steve nods. “Yeah… yeah. Eddie is good at this character thing. And I do know when people are interested. And this is safe. If I flirt and he doesn’t react, or if he recoils in disgust, I can write what I’ve done off as it’s the game and I’m just trying to be a good player. Oh God, Robin, what if he’s like not okay with gay people.”

“Then we bodily throw Eddie out your front door, never speak to him again, and tell Will he’s the new Dungeon Master.”

“That seems extreme.”

“It’d be fitting. Eddie didn’t bat an eyelash when I came out to everyone after my date with Vicki. He actually congratulated me. So, if he only hates gay men then he’d be a disgusting lesbian fetishist and he’ll have to go ASAP. I doubt that’s the case, though.”

Steve barks a laugh and jerks his head towards the house, an offer to return inside. They turn towards the house and are greeted by everyone lined up along the glass door and windows that lead to the pool. A few of them (Nancy, Max, Will) have the decency to try and pretend they weren’t watching by turning away quickly but otherwise everyone just stares at each other until Dustin hauls open the glass door and shouts, “Are you two fighting?”

“No, we aren’t fighting,” Steve says as he shoves his way past Dustin and back into the house. “Let me grab the snacks and the game can begin.”

Steve moves to the kitchen, with Robin and Eddie following behind to help gather all chips, dips, candy, and soda and deposit them on any nearby surface in the dining room. Steve then slides into the chair to Eddie’s left, where Dustin usually sits before anyone else can take that seat.

Dustin slides into the chair next to him instead of arguing about it, saying, “Captivated, aren’t you? Guess I’ll let you have my spot so you can pay attention better. Told you this game was great.”

“I’ll be paying plenty of attention, don’t you worry,” Steve says to Dustin before turning to Eddie, who has taken his place at the head of the table, and winking at him, “right, Eds?”

Eddie stops moving for barely any time at all, and honestly, if the whole point of where he sat wasn’t to be close enough to catch and catalogue all of Eddie’s reactions, he would have missed the freeze. “Oh yeah. Steve’s been following the story closely.”

Steve looks around the table and watches the kids exchange glances and shrugs before Eddie begins to recall what happened last game and where the Party is headed now. Steve waits for his cue. Eddie’s got several ways to introduce Steve’s character, just in case the kids don’t grasp onto the plot hooks. But they’re good players, who know when an adventure hook is being dangled in their face. When their characters read the notice board, looking for quests, and come across the one of a man looking to hire help in searching for his lost sister, they buy into it quickly.

“You find yourselves at the tavern where the help wanted poster said to meet. There are three other people inside this early in the day, not including the barkeep.”

“Can I go and ask the barkeep if he knows who put the poster up?” Will asks. Will speaks in the first person who it comes to his character far more often than anyone else, Steve’s noticed.

“Of course. The barkeep is a surly looking dwarf who keeps rearranging the glasses behind the counter. He sees you approaching and listens to your question before saying,” Eddie says in his normal tone, before dropping into a deeper, Scottish accent. “Aye. You passed him on the way in. He’s sitting there, close to the door.”

“Do we approach as a group?” Lucas asks, and after a quick discussion and confirmation that the table their quest giver is sat as has enough seating for them all, they agree to approach together.

Eddie nods and says, “You all approach the table and the figure sitting there looks up as you do. Steve, please describe what they see as they approach you.”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but the table explodes. Dustin shrieks and throws out his hands to grip Steve’s arm and just shake him. “Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD. STEVE!” Dustin is yelling basically in his ear. Everyone is exclaiming something in excitement, and it gets loud, fast. With no end to the onslaught of screaming in sight, Steve resigns himself to this fate.

It takes far longer than it should for everyone to quiet down, and Steve’s a little red after all of it. Because he hadn’t expected this reaction. He thought Dustin might be a little hyped, sure, but this level of love he feels from all these kids, and for them, and how doing something so small, like joining their game, brings them this much joy… He regrets not joining sooner, honestly.

Finally, they quiet and Steve gets to describe his character, Sir Gregor of House Buckington (Robin’s idea of a last name, he’s not afraid to throw her under the bus for that) and the game progresses. When Steve’s asked to make his first roll of the night, everyone jumps to offer their dice, but he just calls out to Robin. She still has his in her pocket. He shoots a look at Will, who he can see recognizes the dice, and smiles at him as he rolls his first D20.

It's almost two hours into the session before Steve sees his chance to flirt. The Party is trying to negotiate a discount for some healing potions, and they’ve failed their check. They can’t afford the potions and Erica, playing the rogue, offers to try and steal them.

“Can I give Erica advantage by distracting the shop keep?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks intrigued by these. “… Maybe. How would you distract him?”

“Sir Gregor will lean against the counter and say ‘Sorry about my companion’s awkward attempts to swindle you of your goods for a fair price. I should have stepped in sooner, but I was a bit… captivated watching you shut them down’ and try and fluster this guy by flirting with him.”

It’s a mixed bag of reactions from the kids that Steve barely hears because he’s focused on Eddie. Eddie, whose face looks a bit redder than it usually does.

“You wanna… flirt with the shop keep?” Eddie’s voice is a bit higher than normal too. Interesting.

“If that’s allowed.”

“Umm, uh, y-yeah,” Eddie stumbled over his words and Steve can feel himself grinning like the cat that got the cream. Eddie is flustered. Steve has flustered him. Oh. This is going to be a good game. “Roll a persuasion check.” Steve gets a 17. “Lady Applejack, if you would, roll sleight of hand with advantage as Sir Gregor seems to have successfully taken the attention of the shopkeep.”

“I am going to enjoy having Steve play,” Erica says as she picks up her dice. “No one else helps me steal things.”

-

They play for almost four hours, an hour longer than normal, but Steve is surprised by how quickly it slips by and finds that he’s a little disappointed that it has to end, especially since they’ve stopped one round into combat. It’s a terrible place to stop, but if the kids are any later getting home there might be a reckoning done by some parents. The only reason there isn’t one now is because Nancy, ever practical about things, called all the parents about an hour and a half ago to let them know the kids might be an hour or two late getting home.

“We’ll pick up next week,” Eddie says, standing to get a good look at the battle map to copy it into his notebook.

“You can just leave it out so you don’t have to recreate it,” Steve says, like he does every week. “I won’t mess with it.”

And like every week before, Eddie just pulls out his graph paper and starts to track how many squares apart everyone is as the kids pack up their own things and head out. Steve walks them all to the door and Robin hangs back to talk, waiting on the front step. Steve walks out and shuts the door behind him.

“He’s absolutely into you,” Robin whispers. “Do you know that this means? We can go on double dates! I’ll be Eddie’s fake date, because I’m not sure Vicki and Eddie should be left alone to conspire against us but-“

“I think it’s a bit too soon to be planning double dates, Buckley,” Steve cuts her off. “Yeah, Eddie’s into me. But like… into me? Does he even know he’s into me?”

“Right. Could also be in the denial phase, still,” she says, then deepens her voice in a poor imitation of Eddie’s and adds, “I think Steve is hot but in a purely platonic friend-like fashion.”

He laughs, shoving Robin towards Jonathan’s car, where everyone else is loaded and waiting, “go home.”

She leaves laughing and Steve waves them off before going back inside. He finds Eddie at the table, placing the minis carefully back into the tacklebox he keeps them in.

“Seriously, you don’t have to put everything away,” Steve says and Eddie jumps.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me,” Eddie clutches at his heart dramatically.

“I didn’t sneak! You’re lost in your own head if you didn’t hear the door slam or my footsteps,” Steve leans back against the wall, watching Eddie. The other man nods to himself, hands still fiddling with a mini in his hand. The one he’d used for Steve’s character. Steve watches and wishes he could read Eddie’s mind as easily as Robin reads his.

“Thank for playing tonight,” Eddie finally says, placing the mini back onto the table instead of in the tacklebox before turning to Steve. “You did real good.”

Steve gives him a smile he hopes Eddie can see if soft and fond, “yeah? I put a lot of effort into this. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan helped me.”

“You recruited all three?”

“Yeah. I wanted to put in the effort. I’ve watched several games now; I see how much time you all put into this. It’d be an asshole move to agree to join and not, like, at least read the rules.”

Eddie hums an agreement, “would be kinda asshole-ish, but you’re certainly not an asshole anymore.”

Steve fakes wounded, “you thought I was an asshole?”

“Well, it would be a pretty dick move on my part to think you’re an asshole after everything,” Eddie takes a step towards Steve, then seems startled at himself, like he can’t believe he moved. “Anyway, you willing to play again next week?”

“Yeah, man. Looking forward to it.”

“Cool. Cool,” Eddie nods before turning to gather up the stuff he brought with him. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“Totally.”

Steve watches Eddie head towards the door and feels something like regret in his stomach. Logically he knows he doesn’t have to rush this. Doesn’t have to fling himself at Eddie immediately now that he knows he wants to, knows that Eddie is at least enough into him to get flustered with his ‘fake’ flirting.

But.

But Steve has lived through four apocalypses and Eddie almost didn’t survive one and life is worth taking a chance on doing things he never thought he’d do (like playing and enjoying a game of Dungeons and Dragons), so- He picks up his D20 from the table and gives it a roll, leaves it up to chance if he should do this now or wait.

It rolls around the table, bounces off the books still left on the table before rolling to a stop.

Eh, 8 is good enough.

“Eddie, wait!” Steve flings open his front door and shouts. Eddie, in the process of backing out of the driveway, brakes. Steve runs across his yard and Eddie, window already cracked, rolls it the rest of the way down.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go on a date with me,” Steve says, then winces. He used to be better at this. “Please. I mean, go on a date with me. Oh, that sounds worse, like I’m expecting you to. Which I’m not-I don’t expect you to like me just because I like you. Fuck, I’m ruining this. Would you like to go on a date with me, please?”

Eddie just lets him shove his foot in his mouth, but he looks fond more than annoyed. Still, he says, “I, uhh, didn’t know you were… into guys.”

“Guys in general, sure. You, specifically? Ridiculously into you.”

That brings a smile to Eddie’s face. “Yeah?”

“So, uh date tomorrow? After I get off work?”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie agrees easily.

Steve watches Eddie drive away and suddenly he can’t wait for work tomorrow. Robin’s going to implode when he tells her.

-

-

Eddie, after getting off the phone with Steve the night before the game: Oh, he wants to do drugs before having to suffer through watching us play dnd again. Better bring my druglunchbox

[tallbluelady]

Between the puppy dog eyes that Lyse was giving her and all the work Raer (@azure-dragonsinger) put in to alter the dress, Rowan couldn't very well refuse to wear it.

[shyvioletcat]

So, it’s my Birthday! This is my present to myself, a little self indulgent single parent au because it’s is my birthday and no one can stop me. I wrote this as part of the @throneofglassmicrofics prompts from last month but I never had the time to polish it off until now. This was for the prompt ambivalence and my plan is to continue this fic with more with neat little 1000 word updates. Good news is I know exactly where it’s going. So please enjoy!

~~~~~

Rowan pulled up to his new place of residence at 9am sharp, just like he planned to. He had flown in from Doranelle two weeks ago and spent the majority of that time coordinating with the real estate and delivery companies so he could get into his new house as efficiently as possible. A new job had brought him to Orynth, and not one for the hustle and bustle of the city he’d found a quaint little house on the very edges of the city outskirts. It was well and truly the suburbs, but he didn’t mind. Rowan never really understood the aversion society seemed to have to them. It was quieter and less busy, more than a wall between one home and the next. What was there not to like?

A mattress and bed frame were the first on the list of things to be delivered, after that it should be his personal items that he had shipped here. Over the next week he’d be waiting on that bell to ring while he got himself settled. After that his break from work would be over and he would be ready to jump guns blazing into his new life. A fresh start was what Rowan needed and what he was determined to get.

At 9:15 there was no sign of his bed, by 9:30 he was still in a house devoid of furniture. Leaning on the kitchen counter was becoming uncomfortable and with nothing to sit on inside he’d chosen to sit on the top step of his front porch, scrolling through his phone while repeatedly looking for delivery updates. Rowan realised that ther morning sunshine was great here, maybe he’d spend his time waiting finding a chair to sit on when he sipped his morning coffee.

The sound of a screen door clanging shut from next door drew Rowan’s attention. Glancing over he saw a woman stepping down from her own porch, wearing a soft looking dressing gown with a small infant cuddled against her chest. Rowan couldn't see much more than that besides a mess of golden hair that fell down the woman’s back, catching the morning sunlight as she walked. She hadn’t noticed him, she just seemed to murmur to the baby in her arms, heading towards the bins, no doubt to set them on the curb like the other houses in the street had. Rowan watched her precariously manoeuvre the first bin one handed, and then come back for the other. That seemed to upset the baby who cried and wiggled, the bin scraping on the concrete of the driveway as the woman had to suddenly let go. Before he knew it Rowan was across his own front yard, stepping over the small line of shrubs into his neighbour’s so he could help her avoid disaster.

It caught the woman’s attention, had her looking over as Rowan got closer and said, “I can get that for you.”

The hostility in her eyes had him stopping before he could even reach for the handle. What really took him aback was how beautiful this woman was. Not that he had expected her not to be, but it was just how striking features were. Her eyes were bright with ire, only emphasising the startling colour of them. Crystal clear turquoise, like a sundrenched shoreline. Her full lips pursed in annoyance and there was a light dusting of freckles across her nose. If he was meeting this woman in some random bar he might have tried his luck. Maybe not if she was looking at him the way she was now—like she was ready to rip out his throat for no apparent reason.

“I can do it myself,” she all but barked at him. “I don’t need any help.”

Rowan backed up a step, his temper prickling at the undeserved hostility. “Certainly didn’t seem that way.”

The woman glared at him. “I don’t need your fucking judgement.”

A scoff might have escaped him if he had a little less self control. “I wasn’t—“

There was no chance to defend himself, the woman ignoring his attempts. “Don’t even bother.”

With that declaration Rowan didn't know what else to do but leave her, retreating to the safety of his lawn, just watching what would unfold next. The baby, who couldn’t be more than six months old—younger even— fussed even more as the next bin was taken down to the curb. Besides a head of thin wispy brown hair and a beige sleepsuit Rowan couldn’t determine much more about from this distance. It was outright crying by the time the woman had reached the front door where she paused to deal with the door. She saw him standing there watching, rolling her eyes with what Rowan could most accurately describe as disgust. Then they were both back inside, the cries loud enough they could still be heard from where he stood. That was not how Rowan expected his first interaction with his new neighbour to go.

All he had tried to do was be nice when she was clearly struggling. Rowan didn’t know if she had misconstrued his intentions or what, it was ending with him being less than impressed with her reaction. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt but being sworn at and treated with utter contempt was hard to ignore.

Rowan turned his back on the new neighbours and their house and went back to his front porch step to keep waiting. As he sat there the bitterness of mistreatment settled on him and he decided that keeping to himself was a good idea. It had been his way of life for years now—helped him survive. He was used to the solitude, there was no reason to question its perks now. So Rowan ignored the fading cries and read through reviews on a chair he was looking at, more than happy to focus on his world and nothing else.

~~~~~

It’s my birthday, I can make all the drama that I want. It’s allowed 😂

[sollucets]

ok, small informal post, i did start crossposting my prompts to ao3. i've edited them but mostly just for clarity and grammar, but if u like that format there are 2:

listen close, i'll say it loud (the post-os2 long distance ones) + celestial navigation (the rest)

[peachy-panic]

Not sure if you’re still taking prompts but if you are Id die for a ‘has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you cry?’ For Jaime 🙏🏼🙏🏼

For the record, I am always happy to take prompts. Thank you for this one! <3

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU Adjacent, noncon drugging, grieving for dead parents

Rowan Smith stands outside the two-way mirror to the observation room, studying his newest assignment. 

The kid is flat on his back in the middle of the room, arms stretched out on either side of him. He’s high as a kite. His body appears to be completely relaxed, his breaths coming in an even rise and fall. You would think he’s in a state of complete euphoria, if it weren’t for the steady stream of silent tears sliding down his temples. 

He clicks on his tablet and makes a note in his file. 

110750 received final dose of diacetylmorphine at 17:09. Tox screen was completed at 22:31. He will be relocated to cell 34A today after his formal intake for the duration of his withdrawal and initial training. 

Rowan saves his entry and clicks the screen to black. He watches for another minute, then, decisively, swipes his key card at the door to let himself into the room. He isn’t technically supposed to mess with him before he’s officially admitted into the system—officially, none of this operation beneath the basement level of the facility really even exists—but Rowan can be discreet. 

He closes the door behind him and walks to the kid’s side, dropping into a crouch. His new trainee is so far gone that he doesn’t seem to be aware that anyone has even entered the room. He just keeps staring up at the ceiling while his tears drip into little pools on the concrete floor.

Jaime, the kid’s name is. For now, anyway. In less than an hour, that will be erased from his identity. Rowan will make him into the perfect blank slate, so that 110750 can become whoever he is required of him at any given moment. 

Reaching forward, he takes a tuft of soft, blond hair between his fingers and lets it drop back against his forehead. Finally, a pair of heavy-lidded brown eyes roll in his direction. Rowan smiles. He wonders if he can even really see him. Almost certainly, he won’t remember this tomorrow. 

“Why the long face, sweetheart?”

The boy blinks hard, like he’s trying to concentrate on something, then brings his hands down to pat the pockets of the jeans they haven’t yet taken from him.

“The picture,” he says, quiet and raspy. 

Rowan tilts his head in feigned confusion. “What picture is that?”

His thin fingers shake as he turns his pockets inside out, a little more agitation slipping through the heavy fog of his high. “My parents,” he says. “My photo. It has… I can’t…”

“Oh.” Smith puts on a sympathetic frown. “That old thing? We had to get rid of it.”

Jaime, or the person that used to be him, turns back to Rowan with a look of slowly dawning horror. “What?”

“You won’t be needing that anymore. We already burned it.”

His face crumbles into true devastation. It’s almost impressive that such emotion can break through the drugs. 

“It’s all I have left,” he whispers. 

God, Rowan thinks. They really brought me a treasure with this one. 

He reaches out again, this time to brush the hair off his forehead with a gentle hand. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you cry?”

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 13

Prompt: O68 — To his horror, he realised he'd been this way before.

AO3 or read below:

The castle, which Dean had, as a naive eleven year old, found intimidatingly large, was now too small. It would be easier if he could walk around with his eyes closed, a pursuit that was rendered impossible because Hogwarts was essentially the world’s most infuriating maze. He’d used to find the moving staircases and the trick doors enchanting, now he just found them extremely bloody irritating. 

Of course, for the past few days he’d found everything extremely bloody irritating, and his mood definitely wasn’t improved by constantly running into the sickeningly happy new couple, who seemed to be everywhere Dean was trying to go. 

“You said you were over her mate,” Seamus said as Dean stomped unseeingly down the sunlit charms corridor in the direction of the staircase. “You said yourself that she wasn’t right for you.” 

Dean didn’t reply as they turned the corner, no set destination in mind, just needing to keep moving. He had said that. He’d meant it. 

“And you said you were a bit relieved when you broke up,” Seamus continued, either not understanding or, more likely, not caring that Dean absolutely didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You fought over the stupidest things. It was painful to watch, I can’t imagine what it was like to actually live it.” 

Dean turned another corner, grunting in response to Seamus’ observations. To his horror, he realised he’d been this way before. His stomach sank.

There they were, where he’d seen them five minutes ago, completely wrapped up in one another and oblivious to Dean’s – to anyone’s – presence.

Their fingers were entwined; Ginny was pulling away from Harry, but he was tugging her back towards him. Far from looking annoyed, Ginny’s head tilted back and she laughed, acquiescing to Harry’s attempts to pull her closer without any real resistance.

“Keep moving, mate.” Seamus shoved him lightly, forcing Dean’s feet to resume walking.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ginny began to walk at the same time as Dean and Seamus. Transfixed, Dean watched as Harry collected Ginny’s school bag from the floor; Ginny’s eyebrows raised in question and Dean still couldn’t look away. 

He’d made the same fatal error once before, and received a lecture that had very quickly turned into an argument when Ginny had refused to see that Dean’s actions had not been some silent suggestion that she was incapable of carrying her own belongings. As if he didn’t have enough sisters to know exactly what girls were capable of. 

For the first time in days, Dean didn’t envy Harry in the slightest. He braced, waiting for Ginny’s inevitable flare up. 

It wasn’t forthcoming. 

The newly familiar sting of bitterness pierced his ribs. She’d never smiled at Dean like that. She’d been happy, especially in the beginning. They’d shared grins and knowing looks across the common room, but she’d never looked so… incandescent. 

Idly, Dean wished he could draw her as she was right in that moment, even if the expression on her face wasn’t for him, there was some unnamable quality to it that deserved to be inked on parchment. Of course, Ginny had never been Dean’s to capture in such a permanent way; that much was becoming increasingly clear. 

“Let’s go to the North Courtyard,” Seamus said, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder and steering him in the opposite direction to the one Harry and Ginny were walking in, forcing Dean to look away. “You can have another attempt at the rowan tree. I think you almost had the shading right last time.” 

“What are you going to do?” Dean asked, trying not to let his eagerness for the suggestion show. It was one of the good things that had come out of his breakup with Ginny. She had never possessed the patience required to sit for the hours it took Dean to perfect his pieces, and he was slowly starting to remember the simple pleasure that came from creating. 

Seamus shrugged easily, not wavering from the path he’d set. “I’ll probably just watch you – you know I like to see how it all comes together.”