#rowan is running out of patience

[throneofsapphics]

let our bodies talk

Rowan x Reader x Ruhn

summary: Rowan and Ruhn help you deal with your guilt around sex, and take your virginity

warnings: virgin!reader, raw p in v (wrap it up everyone), religious guilt/shame, light hair pulling

word count: 3426

a/n: based on this request!

“Do you want us?” Ruhn finally asked, running a hand through his hair, the other toying with his lip ring. He pointedly ignored the silver-haired male staring at him like he wanted to chop him into bits and either sell them at the Meat Market or feed them to the creatures at the bottom of the Istros. 

Rowan had more patience and experience with immortality than he did. If you wanted him to wait another hundred years, he would, gladly, but he wanted to know what page you were on and he was ... well, he was used to having rather forward partners, he supposed. 

It started with him as an emissary to your world, and ended with this relationship he never could have expected, but would never change for a thing. You were everything he’d ever wanted and more. 

Your mouth parted, skin flushed, and eyes widened slightly. One of his favorite looks on you. “Of course,” the words came out quickly. Adorable. Everything about you was adorable. Cthona, he really was obsessed with you. “We’re together, aren't we?” You gained back a little bit of that attitude he loved. His mouth curved into a smirk. 

“Yes, love, we are.” 

“Ruhn is asking if you want to have sex with us,” Rowan grunted from behind you. You whirled around, not having seen him apparently. He shot you a slightly apologetic look. You were the only one who got those kinds of looks out of him, and it made Ruhn respect you even more. The male would bend over backwards for you. 

“I m- I mean yes, I do, I just ...” you trailed off uncharacteristically. 

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, forearms bracing his thighs, Rowan rounded the couch to sit next to you, leaving a careful foot or so between the two of you. This conversation didn’t need touch, not right now at least. Ruhn stayed in his seat. Just talking about this, the idea of it, was making all sorts of unproductive changes to his blood flow. 

-

You sighed, glancing between the two of them. You wouldn’t get out of this conversation right now, at least not without them getting an acceptable answer. How do you even begin to explain your relationship with sex? When it's so complicated you barely feel like you understand it yourself? 

“Just listen to me, please,” you half pleaded, half ordered. They glanced at each other before turning to you and nodding. “I grew up with a lot of ... shame surrounding sex,” you could tell Ruhn was ready to interrupt and say fuck that, but Rowan fixed him with a look and although the male glared back he kept his mouth shut. Another time you might have laughed. “So as much as I fucking crave both of you, those thoughts are still trained into me. That its dirty, bad, against the gods wishes.” 

Rowan pressed his lips together at the last one, you knew it was ridiculous too - some of the gods were notoriously horny, after all. 

“So I'm a little ... behind because I avoided everything for so long.” 

“Are you a virgin?” Rowan asked, tone carefully neutral. If they cared either way ... well, then they wouldn’t be the males for you. 

“Yes,” you lifted your chin just a tad higher, trying to imbue yourself with some sort of confidence. 

“That’s not a problem for me,” Ruhn said, almost soothingly. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Rowan sent a warning look your way at the snip in your tone, and you glared right back at him. He held both hands up placatingly, almost in a ‘not policing you, I'm just trying to keep the peace,’ way. 

Ruhn caught your gaze, and you both burst into laughter, eyes lighting with mirth. Rowan snorted. Basically a roaring laugh coming from him. 

“Come here,” the unintentional dominance in Rowan’s voice bent your knees before you could think better of it. Not that you wanted to, not really. He patted the area next to him, giving you the option to close the distance. You did. 

You felt more than heard Ruhn move, as the couch dipped on your other side. You liked it here, pressed between them, your legs lining up from thigh to hip, just a few layers between your skin and theirs. The desire to remove the layers was there, but that old guilt crept in and tainted it. Your hand brushed the back of your neck, head tilting down, eyes trained on the floor. 

Ruhn caught your hand, bringing it down to rest on his thigh. You flexed your fingers, exploring the feel of the corded muscle beneath those jeans. His leg tensed, keeping hand settling over yours, keeping you still. 

“However long it takes,” he kissed the exposed side of your neck, “I'll teach you to not be ashamed of what your body wants.” 

“Of what you want,” Rowan added, running his thumb over your knee, his hand cupping your leg. 

“I want both of you,” you said the words quickly, as if they might never come out if you didn’t say them as fast as possible. 

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that,” Rowan’s eyes trailed you from head to toe, taking in every inch of your body. A hunger that you either hadn’t seen or noticed before flared. Tightness coiled in your stomach, you could arouse those kinds of feelings in them. You found you liked that power. 

“Relax, Rowan,” Ruhn drawled. The other male tensed. You smiled. “I think we can ask some questions, can’t we?” 

A muscle in Rowan’s jaw flexed, but he gave a short nod. 

Sometimes you wondered if you were the glue bonding them together, but they had a bond of their own outside of the one the three of you shared. Not sexual, but almost ... you couldn’t quite find a term to describe it. Maybe you’d invent one later. For now, they were capturing all of your attention. Questions. You knew what kind of questions they’d ask, but it didn’t leave you feeling any more prepared for it. 

“Has anyone touched this beautiful body before?” Ruhn breathed against your neck, his hand running down your thigh indolently. 

“You,” you said, a touch of something like defiance in your tone. One of them pinched your thighs lightly. Rowan. 

“It doesn’t work if you don’t answer our questions, love,” he said. 

“Not very well,” you sighed, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling. Why did this have to feel so ... 

“These conversations aren’t meant to be smooth,” Ruhn reminded you. It gave you a bit of much-needed courage and you gave yourself a reminder. You loved these males, trusted them, and knew they’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you or make you feel upset. In fact, they’d usually do their best to make sure the opposite happened. 

“Did you like anything about their touch?” Rowan’s large hand covered part of your thigh, tips of his fingers digging in light enough to add a pleasurable pressure but avoid that edge of pain. Regardless, each of their touches felt like fire in your current wound up state and you doubted anything could douse it right now. 

“When it was over,” you said, honestly, and drew a laugh from each of them. 

“I promise you won’t want this to end,” Ruhn said. Tilting your head, blue eyes peered intently at you, full of heat and passion and desire. “I think we can figure out how to ask these questions without speaking,” he brushed the top of your thigh, playing with your hemline, “hm?” 

You arched towards him, hands reached out to grasp at his arms, tugging him closer, closer, closer, however you could get any contact with him. Something about his tone and words awoke a new desperation in you. The time for talking, for thinking, was over. 

Ruhn caught your hands. You frowned. He switched them to one of his and used the other to tilt your chin up. “If you want this to stop at any time, just say the word. Or tap a few times if you can’t speak.” 

“We won’t be angry or upset,” Rowan added. 

“If you were, I'd kick your asses. Before leaving them,” you grumbled.

Ruhn held his hands up. “I’m terrified,” he deadpanned. 

The pause gave space for ugly emotions to rear and infiltrate, invading your headspace. 

You heard the words of the priests and priestesses from your childhood, of your mother and father wondering what the hell you were doing before damning and cursing you. Doubt had no place in this room, but it found its way inside anyway. 

“I don’t think she wants this,” you heard Ruhn say, and your head snapped up. 

-

Ruhn hoped his gamble paid off and Rowan played along, that they could draw out your competitive side. 

Green eyes narrowed, but he said, “I’m afraid you may be right.” Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t afraid of a damn thing, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Yes I do,” you spluttered indignantly. That was the point.

“Show us,” Rowan challenged you. 

“I don’t know how,” your voice dropped to a furious whisper, and he wondered if you might call everything off. 

“Ask for help,” Rowan countered. 

“I thought we would do this without speaking,” Ruhn interjected. 

In unison, both you and Rowan replied, “that’s what you said,” and he bit back a grin. 

“One question then,” Rowan continued, “do you want us to fuck you tonight?” 

“Yes,” there was no hesitation, in fact eagerness in your tone. Bringing out your competitive side did work, and he noted that for later. 

“We’ll be gentle,” Rowan told you. 

You huffed. Ruhn titled his head, Rowan raised a brow at you. 

“I want you, not some watered down version of you - both of you.” 

“As you wish, my love,” Rowan murmured. 

“Your funeral,” Ruhn joked. 

“But I have one rule,” he sat up a little straighter at your words. 

“What is that?” 

“No magic,” you glanced between both males. “I just want you. Both of you.” 

-

“Very well,” Rowan acquiesced, not sounding too put out. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. After checking for Ruhn’s agreement to your ‘rule,’ you did. 

This part, this first step, you knew how to do. You’d kissed both of them before. Straddling him, you balanced yourself on the middle of his thighs. His fingers trailed up and down your sides, front, back, everywhere he could reach, brushing sensitive areas over your clothing. Brushing too lightly for how drastically your body seemed to react. Or maybe that was the point, less is more. 

‘Let go, stop thinking,’ you reminded and reprimanded yourself. 

It took you a minute or two to realize Rowan was waiting for something. For you to initiate. 

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his, mimicking the featherlight touches he was leaving on your body. Rowan wasn’t having it, and gripped the back of your head, winding his fingers through your hair before bringing you together. 

He stood, mouth still on yours, and you tightened your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, he wrapped one arm around your lower back, and snapped at Ruhn with his spare hand. 

The other male, understandably, snarled in return and you broke away from Rowan to hide your giggles into his shoulder. 

It broke the tension, and after a few strides from Rowan you were bouncing back on your bed, thrown there by him. Catching yourself against the headboard, it was your turn to glare. 

“That’s what you get for laughing,” Ruhn shrugged out of his shirt, and fuck your mouth watered. “My eyes are up here,” he teased you. 

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you snapped back. 

Not Ruhn, you could see all of him, but you felt another hand on the back of your neck. Rowan. Lips brushed against your ear, “I should just bend you over our bed and fuck you, but I think we can make it a little more enjoyable than that.” 

That sounded very enjoyable to you, and maybe scared you just a tad but not in an unpleasant way. Involuntarily, your thighs clenched. Ruhn’s chuckle told you he noticed. Heat seared your cheeks, the back of your neck, your chest. 

Half-naked, he climbed on the bed after you. Rowan stood next to the footboard, seemingly content to watch just for the moment. 

They seemed too coordinated and organized, in your opinion, and alarm bells flared in your mind and you scrambled with your hands to sit up. 

“Are you speaking to him?” You couldn’t fight the hint of accusation in your tone as you asked Ruhn.

“We’re making this enjoyable,” he pushed down lightly on your shoulders, “let us.” 

“Let go, love,” Rowan encouraged. 

You pursed your lips together in a frown, but nodded. You could let go, for tonight. Letting your hands slide out, your back hit the soft duvet cover again, the fabric silky against your skin. Relax. You were entirely capable of letting go. 

Ruhn’s lips hit your shoulder first, a soft and gentle kiss, before trailing down over your chest. The longer he went on, the firmer, you wouldn’t exactly call it rough, he got. Each touch grew more intense, his hands on your ribcage, pushing you down into the mattress as his lip ring flicked over your nipple. Teeth lightly grabbing the now swollen peak, tugging it up, drawing a gasp, before releasing. Testing how each part of your body reacted to different pressures and sensations. Learning you. 

He was good at this, you realized, with a hint of jealousy you quickly tamped down. Here and now, you reminded yourself. Focus. Capable. 

Lost in his touch, you didn’t notice the other male sliding in behind you until you were rising, your back pressed against his chest. Ruhn made a noise of discontent, like a kid with his candy taken away from him. 

“Ruhn’s going to fuck you first,” Rowan murmured in your ear, stroking down the side of your arm. “And when he’s done, I'll get to fuck that pretty little pussy, how does that sound?” 

“Great,” you barely managed to say. 

Then he was gone, out from behind you, and you were lowered onto the duvet again, head propped up on a pillow, Ruhn’s head between your - fuck. You lost all train of thought, all capability of thought as his tongue flicked your clit. Your voice left you as his lip ring, that beautiful thing, slid across your clit, a finger slipping inside and curling, putting just the right amount of pressure - and throwing you over the edge. 

Ruhn slowly worked you through your orgasm, adding another finger and twisting. You winced slightly at the stretching sensation. He stopped. 

“Just a little,” you panted, “uncomfortable. Keep going.” At the uncertain look on his face you added a, “please,” and that did the trick. 

He kept watching you intently, looking for every little change that might tell him something is wrong. But ... you didn’t feel the need to put on a performance. Instead, you found you liked the intensity he looked at you with. It made you feel wanted and desired in ways you never had before. It was bringing you to new highs. With another scream, your body melted into the mattress, legs falling limply to your sides. 

“I think she’s ready,” you heard Rowan. You nodded your agreement. Just a taste and you’d grown greedy, wanting more, more, more. All they would give you, all you could take. 

A belt clicked, clothes rustled, and you sat up on your elbows, impressed that even with the slight shake in your arms you could still hold yourself up. Maybe it was sheer determination to see Ruhn getting undressed that did it. It was certainly worth it. 

Licking your lips subconsciously at the sight of him, you realized he was pretty everywhere, including his cock. Near the same color as his skin, but with a glistening pink tip and a bulging vein running down the side, you wanted him in you. Now. 

“Get over here,” you breathed. 

“Bossy,” he said, raising his brows, but didn’t fucking move. 

Pressing your lips together, you saw a few avenues in front of you, and picked the one you figured would light a fire under him the best. 

“I guess I have to do it myself,” you sighed and let one arm slide out, snaking its way towards your center. 

It didn’t make it, not as Ruhn was there, catching your hand. “Not this time, princess.” 

His hand splayed against the backs of your thighs, pressing them up and to the sides as he knelt between your legs. 

“Breathe,” he ordered, and you’re glad you listened as he first pushed past your walls. Sharp pain hit your abdomen, catching your breath in your throat. 

An icy wind found its way down your throat, and you decided you’d thank Rowan, mentally, now and yell, verbally, at him later. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Keep going,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You might’ve had a lot of ... conflicting feelings surrounding sex, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t educated yourself. All the bodice rippers told you that the pleasure would kick in soon, that before you knew it you’d be overwhelmed by the “feel good” hormones. Gods you hoped they were real. 

He moved, but slowly. Lifting your hips to switch the angle, you gasped as he hit somewhere deep inside of you. That felt good. 

“That’s the spot, then,” he murmured, more to himself. 

“Fuck you feel good,” you moaned, nails clawing at his shoulders, searching for some kind of grip or anything to hold on to. He chuckled and lowered himself just enough you could grab them, before his hands spread against your sides, gripping you firmly. 

“Remember what you said earlier,” he paused inside of you. You wanted to scream at him. Instead you were left looking at his dumbly, eyes blinking. “About not wanting a watered down version of us. You’re still sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure, just fuck me or I'll-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your words as he moved again, tilting your hips to that perfect angle before driving into you, over and over again. 

Not quite rough, but certainly not gentle, whatever he was doing was absolutely perfect, and as his fingers found your clit, you had your third - or was it fourth? - orgasm of the night. 

You actually whined as he pulled out, his eyes still open and fixed on you. He hadn’t finished. A pout started forming. 

As if he read the words in your eyes, he said, “someone else has been waiting for their turn, I’m sharing you tonight princess,” and jerked his head to the side. You followed the motion, and Rowan stood there, looking at you with pure hunger in his eyes. 

You swallowed. Louder than you intended to. Ruhn moved off you. 

“On your knees,” Rowan said roughly, but didn’t give you a chance before he gripped your hips and flipped you. Squeaking, your hands scrambled and slid before you landed on your elbows. His hand twisted around your hair, not pulling but gripping and tilting your head to look at him. “I still want to see your face, but it’ll be easier for you this way.” 

Easier? Just then, you realized you hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but based on how Ruhn went first you could put together a few things. 

“Alright,” you breathed. 

There was no hesitation from either side as Rowan slid in you, your body both welcoming and protesting him, your hips and thighs already beginning to ache, but you wanted more. A greedy little monster had begun to bloom in you. 

Both of them just felt right, in different ways, and you - 

“Eyes on me,” Rowan snapped. Your eyes flew to him, and his mouth indented at one corner in the way the stoic smile. “I said I wanted to see your face, love.” 

His hands gripped your hips. 

“See your pretty little face as you take my cock so well.” 

The words drew a moan from you, sending pleasure from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes, making you push yourself back on him. Green stared at you, unrelenting as each slow, hard thrust nearly bounced you off him 

“Look how perfectly you’ve opened up for me,” he sounded almost teasing, “just like you were made for me.” 

Maybe you were, made for both of them as they were for you. 

-

taglists:

general: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

throne of glass: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

crescent city: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

let me know if you'd like to hop on the tag list!

[infamous-if]

10 with orion? 👀

Next RO~ ( I'll do 1 for each RO + the poly and then do the rest :>)

10. "Please... what am I doing wrong?" "What aren't you doing wrong?!" (i changed it just a bit)

"Alright, alright. Stop."

The music cuts off. Your friends groan and you huff out a sigh.

You're going to kill someone.

This night has been the longest in recent memory. The moment you stepped into the studio, the universe has been determined to make nothing work. The sound was off, the vibes weren't meshing well, and the entire band seems to be on their last nerve. Even frustratingly neutral Orion has grown irritated. You can see it in his furrowed brows, the way his voice pitches whenever he notices something wrong.

You put your hands on your hips, trying to keep your voice even. Your patience has been fraying since the first complaint when Orion decided it was appropriate to comment on the fact that you came in wearing pajamas....to the studio. At three a.m. "What now?"

"It's not working." Orion huffs through the mic and runs a hand through his hair before waving you guys away. "Just go home. We'll pick this up tomorrow."

"Thank God," Rowan mumbles. He's practically speeding away, not bothering to say another word. Your bandmates follow suit, mumbling halfhearted farewells before filtering out of the studio.

Somehow the producer is gone too, leaving you and Orion alone. He grumbles something, pacing back and forth, as you open the door of the booth and step out back into reality.

Orion doesn't notice you--or doesn't care, most likely--and continues mumbling. Ah. He's in one of those moods. The one where he hates the world and takes it out on his work.

"It's not that serious." You shrug. "We'll get it eventually. We always do."

"This was a waste of time," Orion groans. "Two hours down the drain."

You step closer. "How was it a waste of time? Work was done-"

"Unproductive work," he grits out, facing you with brows knitted.

You stare at him a moment. His anger can't just be on the work, can it?

"Orion-"

He shakes his head. "Forget it. I need to clean this up." Turning around, you watch as Orion furiously picks up the papers on the table. He seems to be looking for something and he stops. "Did you bring the notes I told you to bring?"

You pause a moment. Then the realization hits you. Shit. "Ah...I forgot-"

"Wonderful," he mutters, shaking his head. "Juuust wonderful."

"Orion." You clench your jaw. "You don't need to be an ass."

"I'm not." He frowns. "Being upset at your mistakes isn't being an ass."

"Mistakes?" you guffaw. "Like plural?"

He makes a sound in his throat. "That's how language works. Yes."

"Don't get smart with me." Your voice rises. "What have I done wrong?"

"What have you not done wrong?!" he says with equal severity. He whirls around to face you, moving too quickly. His elbow hits a shelf with a row of vinyls, everything tumbling to the ground.

Silence.

And then-

"Shit."

Orion bends down to pick it up and you follow a moment later. You two don't say anything a moment before he says: "I'm sorry." His voice is quiet, unfamiliarly soft. "I didn't mean to yell."

"It's okay-"

"It's not okay." He shakes his head. "I've just been a mess lately. Nothing has been going right for me. But this? This is what I'm good at. Work is what I'm good at. And when I fail at work-"

"You think you fail at everything."

He says nothing, face darkening when he continues to pick up the records. "...Yeah."

You stare at him, dropping the records in your hand to touch his cheek. "You don't fail with me."

His eyes land on yours and he smiles a little, but it looks more like a wince. He turns his head to rest his cheek in your hand. "Give it a few days. You'll be sick of me in no time."

"Not likely." You smile.

Something dark crosses his eyes, and you watch the way his hesitant gaze lowers to your mouth. You clear your throat, and Orion leans in, lips parting. He's never tried to kiss you at work before-

"Hey, did you know there's a two for one deal at McDonalds-" The producer stops mid-entrance. You and Orion quickly move away, pretending to be busy with picking up the records. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you and Orion say in unison.

Unfortunately.

[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.” 

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Au Where I Make Cod Characters Act Like Characters I Simp For From Other Fandoms

Requested: No

Warnings: Blood Drinking, Voyeurism, Ghost has 3 sons (all fully grown and 25+, their names are Payton, Quentin, and Rowan), small bit of ✨spice✨, Dub-Con touching, Reader is called “Wife” and “Woman” in Soap’s part (if you know who Eddie Gluskin is, you know why), torture, tarantula, tarantula crawling on the reader, mentions of gore, blindfolding, abduction

Ghost - Lady Dimitrescu (Re8)

Ghost stares down at you, on your knees before him, shaking in fear while looking entirely out of place on his expensive rugs with your dirty and tattered clothing, covered in filth from the village outside, scratches all over. Looked like you had tumbled with a Lycan or two, he was almost impressed that you had survived such an encounter.

Ghost sighed as he sipped his wine, the rich taste of a maiden’s blood soaking into his tongue, a burst of beautiful flavor on his senses, like fireworks behind his eyes. He looked to you before looking away again, golden eyes narrowed like a snake’s. He was pretty sure you wouldn’t make good wine. But looks could be deceiving, perhaps he should sample you to be sure?

He heard you squeak and his attention snapped back to you, agitation melting away when he saw that one of sons was was currently kissing and sucking along your neck while another was pushing his hand into your pants, the third palming at your chest while nuzzling his face against yours. Surprisingly gentle for his boys, it seemed that they liked you more than the usual manthings.

He sighed again, deciding that maybe he could keep you around, if only to amuse his rowdy boys.

Soap - Eddie Gluskin (Outlast: Whistleblower)

He saw you. He saw you he saw you he saw you. He knows you’re there, hiding from him. You heard him chase you up the stairs, slammed the door in his face, damn near breaking his nose before locking it behind you. He had to break it down, an easy feat but it had given you plenty of time to hide from him. No matter, the room was only so big.

“Come out, Love. You’re hurting my feelings.” He cooed into thin air, hoping to soothe you like you were some sort of wild animal that got trapped in the asylum. “I just want to love you, can’t you see that?”

Something shifted to his right, he jumped towards it, scraping his elbows on the cement only to find it was a kitten darting through the rubble. He clicked his tongue, annoyance beginning to take hold when his patience started to wain.

“Darling, stop running from me! We’re going to miss the ceremony!” He called, standing to his full height again, brushing dirt off of his makeshift vest. “I want to make an honest woman of ya! Marry ya and fill you up with my bairn.”

Another shift, this time inside a locker. He took care not to focus on it as he checked his pocket for the spare lock he kept for situations just like this.

“You’ll look so pretty, swollen and full of me. And our babes will be so beautiful. I hope they look like you.” He said, trying to make it look like he wasn’t walking towards you, his fingers clenched tight on the lock, stroking the smooth metal. “Maybe with my eyes though. Just a little bit like me so everyone knows who ya belong to.”

The lock clicked in place and he felt your panic in the air before you showed it, but then you were banging on the inside of the locker, chanting a soft “no” again and again like that would get you out of this mess. If he looked close enough he was sure he could see your tears.

“There you are, My Lovely Wife.” He purred happily.

König - Asa Emory (The Collector)

König watched as you squirmed, silent as the grace as you sniffled and sobbed, frightened beyond belief. You’d woken up chained to a ceiling by your wrists, stripped naked save for your panties and the blindfold over your eyes. You couldn’t even remember how you’d gotten here. One moment you were in bed, the next? Here.

And the worst part was that something was crawling on you, sticking to your skin no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, making it’s way up your body. Every step it took with it’s furry legs sent you further into a panic attack. It only amused König as he watched one of his beloved tarantulas walk upon your skin. It made for a lovely picture, he’d have to do this again sometime.

He just couldn’t help himself when he saw you, all wide eyed and scared as he chased you through your house, dead family members and pets all over, slipping in their blood and guts with every turn. He didn’t even know you were home when he started laying his traps. Didn’t even know you existed.

But he was glad you were there. From the second he saw you, he wanted to know what you looked like naked, blood running down your body as he touched you, made you enjoy his touch. He got so excited that he ended up slamming your head into the ground a little too hard when he wants to knock you out. He hoped your brain didn’t suffer too much damage, he wanted you to be able to remember this. Remember your fear.

Maybe he’d paint your pretty face after this, just to watch your tears ruin the makeup, smearing it down your face as he fucked you, all pain and no pleasure. Poor little Fehler. His little Bug.

You shouldn’t have come out of your room.

Alejandro - Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)

He could hear you, trying to stifle your sobs as you crawled under barbed wire and through bramble, your sniffles of pain and fear echoing in his ears. It was almost…cute, how you thought you were being quiet. But so sad for you, Little One, he heard you loud and clear.

His hand clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you out of the bushes and into his arms no matter how hard you squirmed and squealed, pushing at him with your cut palms, bits of glass and thorns digging further into your open flesh. He’d need to bandage that for you.

He cooed in your ear, trying to soothe you as his hands patted your face and belly, trying to calm you down as you sobbed. His sweet Nanny, come to watch over him. And he’d watch over you just the same now that he was out of the walls. Once he got you back into the house and tied down onto his bed. Maybe he could calm you down like that, with his tongue between your legs, drawing sweet noises from your lips instead of the fearful ones you were making now.

He lifted his mask up just above his nose, burned nose nudging against yours softly, voice cracking from disuse. “Kiss?” He whispered, watching you shrink in on yourself with frustration. You kissed the doll’s head, but not him?

He sighed, deciding he would have to work on that later as he hauled you over his shoulder, ignoring the pounding on his back as you cried and screamed. No one would hear you. Not ever again. You were his, and nothing would take you away from him.

[mmoonpies]

head full of rowan trying to do nnn but failing

head full of rowan laslow who blatantly refuses to participate when you first mention it, telling you it's a ridiculous challenge and he doesn't want to succumb to some 'childish challenge.' you continue to tease him, tauntingly saying he's just scared he'll lose and that he has no self-control.

head full of rowan laslow who just glares at you in response, eyes burning as he takes a step towards you. your lips curl into a coy smile, knowing you've got him exactly where you want him to be. you can feel the warmth of his body as he steps closer to you, looking down at you with hard eyes, your breath getting caught in your throat.

"fine," he spits out, though there's no venom held to it. "i'll partake in your stupid idea."

head full of rowan laslow who's nothing short of stubborn and determined to not give up. he knows he's desperate but, as if he has tunnel vision, he focuses on his goal, wanting him to prove himself to you. he hasn't given up on his boyfriend duties, but he can hardly touch you or even look at you without wanting to take you right then and there.

head full of rowan laslow who knows you're trying to make him crack, your uniform becoming skimpier and skimpier as you expose more skin to him. his eyes burning into the side of your neck as you dramatically lean to the side, fingers running through your hair as you sigh.

head full of rowan laslow whose jaw twitches as you slide your hands up his chest, his cheeks flushed as he grips your hands roughly. you faun innocence, doe-eyes looking up at him as you ask 'what's wrong?'

"stop teasing," he mutters, cheeks rosy as he slightly pants. "thought we were both participating in this challenge?"

"i'm just touching you, rowan," you keep up your act, despite the small smile that plays on your lips. "what are you thinking about?"

head full of rowan laslow who's slowly losing his patience, his body throbbing with need whenever you walked into the room, eyes set on his. his fist is clenched in front of his mouth, eyes narrow as he carefully observes the way you move, head clouded with the thoughts of pinning you against the wall and...

"rowan?" his body jolts as xavier's voice suddenly rings in his ears. he looks over at him with wide eyes, cheeks growing warm. "you okay?"

rowan swallows harshly and gives him a thin-lipped smile before nodding and shooting up his thumb. xavier nods in return, looking a little confused as rowan turns his head away, cheeks red as he snaps back to reality.

head full of rowan laslow who finally cracks, waiting until you're in his dorm to push you up against the wall, hand planted on your lower back. you gasp, the wind in your chest almost knocked out from how hard he shoves you.

"you're so fucking desperate," he murmurs against your skin as his fingers pull at your pants, nipping at the edge of your neck. 'acting like such a slut around me just so i would touch you - it's pathetic."

you can't even utter a word, breathing heavily as his fingers glide over your skin, sinking down between your inner thighs as his other hands continue to press you against the wall. you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, palms splayed against the wooden wall.

"turn around," he demands, smirking as you whine at the feeling of his hands pulling away from you. "i said turn around."

you gulp before turning around, being shoved down onto your knees as he pressed down on your shoulders. his fingers work at unbuckling his belt buckle, pushing down his suit pants before grabbing the base of his cock. you're salivating at the sight, whining with need as you stare up at him desperately.

head full of rowan laslow who sinks his cock into your mouth, hand cradling the back of your head as you sink further down his cock. you moan at the hot and heavy feeling of his cock stretching your mouth open wider. he grunts at the vibrations against him, waiting until you're comfortable before pushing himself further in, testing the boundaries.

head full of rowan laslow who fucks your throat, using you as you choke around him, eyes screwed shut as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. both of his hands are wrapped around the side of your head, practically skullfucking you as he buries his cock deeper into your mouth.

"fuckin' shit-" he chokes out, eyes hazy as he looks down at your ruined appearance. his smile is nothing short of evil despite the gentle way his fingers tuck stray hairs behind your hair, the feeling of your throat twitching around him making him lean his head back and moan. "fuck, you're so good for me."

head full of rowan laslow who cums down your throat, the sanctuary of your warm and tight throat making him groan out your name. he pulls out, watching as you desperately try and swallow everything, tears falling down your cheeks.

you're so messy and rowan fucking loves it.

head full of rowan laslow who 'cleans' your face up by scooping up the leftover cum on your cheeks, shoving the two digits into your mouth and watching with a raised eyebrow as your tongue greedily swirls around his thick fingers.

head full of rowan laslow who just watches as you shift your weight between your legs, whining softly as your body twitches ever so slightly. he can feel the warmth in your cheeks, eyes watery and blown-out as you needily look up at him, wanting more.

head full of rowan laslow who just taps your cheek with a condescending smile as you close your mouth. he pulls his pants back up, buckling his belt once more as he smiles down at your dumbfounded expression.

"sluts who don't tease get something in return."

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 9

Fic masterlist

Look who’s back three days late! Thank y’all for your patience, I promise we’ll get back to our usual schedule this Thursday ❤️

I’m using @autumnbabylon’s prompt, and I’d also like to thank @renxzs for helping me with a few chapter titles (my translation was a huge mess)

Warnings: language, Fenrys (he’s on fire today)

Words: 5,7k (I’m never beating the irregular chapters allegations)

Rowan hovered the spoon with chili sauce over the freshly-cut mangos as he wondered if he should pour it or not. Maybe he could put the sauce in a separate container, in case she reconsiders.

One month and a half being in charge of Aelin’s food wasn’t enough to prepare him for some of her cravings. This morning, she texted him asking for hot chili sauce along with her mango, and an onion.

He was still hoping she requested the onion because Aedion’s house ran out of ingredients.

His phone pinged on the counter.

Aelin: where r u

Aelin: im abt to climb on a tree and pick some rose apples

Snorting, he thought about how she made Aedion do that last week. It was June, which meant the Rose Apple trees spread across their military housing complex were bearing fruit, its smell enticing pregnant women’s senses.

Rowan: I’ll be right there.

One quick look at the clock made him rush the lunch boxes into the huge thermal bags. Every day, he prepped several meals and snacks for Aelin to eat throughout the day. Rowan only let her run out of full lunch boxes once, and her reaction was enough so he’d never let that happen again.

Earlier today, Aelin texted him a very cryptic message telling him to meet her at another address, a short walk from his place. Before leaving his house, Rowan didn’t recognize the pair of fancy sneakers beside Fenrys’ at the front door. At least they were quiet last night. He couldn’t think about that right now, Aelin was waiting for him.

Despite his current unease, the sound of children playing at the playground in front of his house made him smile. It was usual for a Saturday morning, and Rowan never gave much thought to it until he realized one day he’d have a little one squealing there too. The reminder sent a soft smile to his lips, feeling the kind of warmth he knew wasn’t due to Doranelle’s sun burning his skin.

Which led him back to Fenrys. Rowan never minded his friend’s parade of one-night stands, but he couldn’t think of raising a kid in this kind of environment. He noticed Aelin’s car parked in front of a white, bare house. He’d have to figure out this thing about Fenrys later.

The front door was open. Rowan knocked on the door, hovering over the threshold until he heard Aelin’s voice telling him to come in. This house has the same layout as his, but it was completely bare. No lighting, no furniture, just the smell of dust.

He found Aelin in the kitchen. Standing on a ladder, its hinges squeaked while she changed a light bulb. Rowan’s heart almost jumped out of his throat as he rushed her way. Careful enough to not startle her, he picked her up by the hips and placed her on the floor, not caring about her squeal of protest.

Aelin rubbed the area below her belly. “You can’t press over a pregnant woman’s bladder. It’s rude.”

“What the fuck were you doing?” Rowan had both hands on her shoulders, his breathing still fast.

“Changing the light bulb.” Aelin took a step back and opened her arms, grinning. “Welcome to my new house.”

“Huh.” Rowan looked around, taking in… nothing. The house had nothing. “When do you plan to move in?”

“I just did.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “You did not.”

Aelin took him by the hand and started showing her arrangements. “I stole Aedion’s cooler and one old microwave Uncle Orlon had.” She led him to the master bathroom and showed one mattress and a suitcase on the floor. “I’ll sleep here until my furniture arrives next week. I bought it all online.”

Horrified, Rowan slowly shook his head. “You’re not.”

“What?”

“Does Aedion know about this?”

She crossed her arms. “Why’s that important?”

“Aelin…” Rowan looked around, taking all the nothingness of the house in. “You’re not sleeping here. I can’t see one good reason for you to.”

She was glaring at him with a high chin, looking defiant from head to toe. Rowan had been doing everything he could to keep the easy friendship they built in the past weeks, but he couldn’t put his foot down on this.

“Well, it’s my house, and sleeping here won’t affect the baby, so you don’t get to say a word about it.” A pause. “Neither does Aedion, because if I look at him one more time, I swear to Mala, Rowan, I’m going to flip the fuck out.”

He flexed his jaw. “What did he do?”

“Everything!” Aelin flailed her arms around and started pacing around the room. “He’s so annoying! He making jokes about my cravings, and then he goes and steals a bite of my food, and then keeps suggesting ridiculous baby names.” She was finger-counting her cousin’s shenanigans, face reddening with each example of his teasing. “A few days ago, he said—“ Aelin stopped speaking to take a deep breath and look up, but her eyes were already wet. “He told me to name our daughter Wiggly Jiggly!” Her lips wobbled, and she looked away, hiding her teary face. “That’s such a horrible name.”

Oh, fuck. This wasn’t the first outburst of pregnancy hormones he witnessed, and Rowan was sure he’d never be ready for them.

He sat on the mattress and patted the spot beside him. “C’mere.”

Aelin obliged, laying down with her head on his lap, facing away from him. He just caressed her hair and let her be, knowing very well she didn’t like to cry in front of people, even if she couldn’t help it.

“For what it’s worth, I’d never let our daughter’s name be Wiggly Jiggly.”

She groaned. “You find this funny?”

“No,” he lied. It seemed to be all good-natured cousin teasing, but Rowan did a mental note to ask Aedion to tone down the name suggestions.

“Did I tell you he ate half of my mango yesterday?”

“That’s terrible.”

“He apologized when I started crying, but I haven't forgiven him yet. The apology mango he gave me wasn’t as juicy.”

Rowan snorted. “I have a very good mango supplier.”

She sniffed. “I know you do.”

Aelin’s puffy red nose was so adorable Rowan loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to peck it with kisses because of how cute she looked, and then completely crush and destroy whatever threat made her cry.

“I have an idea.”

Aelin made a sound that was somewhere a hum and a purr. She was no better than a house cat when he ran his fingers through her hair like this.

“If you don’t want to live with Aedion anymore.” He trailed, pondering his words. “You can stay with me. Just until your house is ready,” Rowan quickly added the last part, before she could protest.

Aelin turned her body so she could lie facing him. Her eyes scanned his face, reading how much he meant it. “I don’t know…”

“I have a very comfortable guest room, but you can take mine if you want. Or my roommate’s, I can kick him out.” Aelin chuckled, eyes blissfully closed as he caressed her scalp. Rowan continued, “You can take a nap there, and when you wake up, we can discuss it over freshly baked cookies.”

Her lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “You’ve always been good at dirty talk, Ro.”

It should be illegal, the heat that flooded over Rowan’s body. Especially when they agreed their affair was over. Whenever he looked, scrambling his mind for a decent thought, his brain conjured the memory of Aelin’s flushed face and aroused looks.

He cleared his throat. “Is that a yes?”

“Let’s see how soft your bed is, Lieutenant.”

For Mala’s sake. Rowan let out a string of curses inside his head as he forced his gaze on the ceiling. She had to be doing this on purpose. Which reminded of the other menace he had to deal with.

Rowan: You have 3 minutes to get rid of your boy toy.

Fenrys: how do you know it’s a boy?

Rowan: The sneakers

He helped Aelin get up from the mattress, which was another reason she shouldn’t sleep here. It would kill her with back pain, considering her bump was bigger each day. He opened the chat again.

Rowan: Aelin may or may not spend the next few weeks in our place

Fenrys: nice

Fenrys: does it mean you’ll cook for me too?

Rowan: I already cook for you.

Fenrys: i know

Fenrys: but the pregnant lady stole my chef

When he rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, Aelin was carefully studying him.

“I was letting Fenrys know you’re coming over.

“For the nap, right?”

He didn’t answer.

Aelin slowly shook her head. “I’m going to disturb your routine.”

Rowan squeezed her hand. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re being a big Buzzard right now, did you know that?”

Rowan tilted his head. “A what?”

Aelin tried to portray a serious look, but she was clamping her lips together, trying not to laugh. “A Buzzard. Because you’re hovering.”

After that, Rowan offered to drive her to his place, but Aelin refused, saying she was pregnant, not disabled. His only response was to chuckle and stay close to her during their short walk, in case she tripped or felt ill.

Rowan didn’t mind being called a Buzzard, as long as she didn’t mind that he acted like one.

˜˜

As much as Maisie deserved the best of the best on her birthday, Rowan felt like this outrageously expensive condensed milk was laughing at his face. He didn’t even pay for it, his parents did, but it was a matter of principles.

From the other side of the kitchen counter, Rory barely acknowledged her son’s distressed state. “Being cheap doesn’t look cute, Rowan.”

“Cheap?” His voice came out a pitch higher than he intended. “I’m not cheap, I just do a cost-benefit analysis before buying something, and it still ends up being expensive. But your groceries weren’t expensive, they were outrageous.”

Rory pointed a finger at her son. “Your job is to parent Maisie and teach her to be responsible.” She pointed at herself. “My job is to spoil her rotten, and that includes baking her overpriced cakes.”

“And giving overpriced gifts,” Rowan murmured to himself while organizing his shelf.

“You’re still bitter about that?”

Rowan looked at his mom dead in the eye. “You could’ve bought her a toy. You could’ve bought her a princess costume.” A dramatic pause. “You bought her an acoustic drum set.”

“It was your dad’s idea.” Rory beamed. “She’ll love it.”

“I will never know peace again.”

“Is Sellene coming tomorrow?” His mother asked, changing the subject.

Rowan resumed putting groceries away. “Just for Skull’s Bay on Saturday.”

After tomorrow morning’s surprise, Maisie had something with Aelin at Orlon’s, and on the weekend they’d go to the pirate-themed restaurant every kid in Doranelle City loved.

“It’ll be just us and Aelin, then?”

“Just us.”

“And Aelin?”

Rowan gave her a hard look, and his mother’s shoulders dropped.

“I thought things were better between the two of you.”

He ran a hand through his hair as if it’s take the frustration out of his mind. Yes, they were communicating better. It only erased one of the problems they had. And to be fair, it’s much easier to look Aelin in the face when she’s shooting daggers at him than when she’s smiling because of something their daughter did. It made him feel more at ease with his choices.

“We’re fighting less, yes, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“You’re not friends yet, that’s alright. But is the birthday yours or Maisie’s?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because you just told me you didn’t invite Aelin because she’s not your friend, but this is not your party. She’s Maisie’s mom, Rowan, it doesn’t matter if you’re friends or not.”

“Well, Aelin’s throwing another party in the evening and didn’t invite me either.”

Rory shrugged. “I don’t care about the guest list for her party. In my parties, Aelin will always be a guest.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Your party?”

It was Maisie’s party at Rowan’s house.

“I’m making the food, which means I have a say about who gets invited.”

It didn’t, but his mother was impossible to argue with.

“Fine. I’ll text her when I’m done here.”

Rowan didn’t even mind Aelin’s presence there, it was just how they operated since last year. But they were better, and maybe he should have more initiative. Rowan scrubbed the flour container clean a lot more than he needed, thinking about this over and over.

“You know how I feel about this, son.” his mother turned to him from the other side of the kitchen.

His shoulders went rigid. “I know, could you not—“

“You should’ve married her.”

Rowan spilled flour all over the counter while opening the sack.

It wasn’t the first time his mother expressed her feelings about this, but they got fewer and far between as time passed. Going from encouraging him to propose while Aelin was pregnant to… this.

“We’re seeing a therapist after years apart. Can you imagine the shitshow we’d be if we were actually together?”

His mom had to understand this. If Rowan had been telling this to himself so much he had the words memorized, it had to make sense.

She didn’t seem to, though. “Every couple has fights, Rowan. It just needs to balance out with how much sex—“

Grimacing, he felt his upper arms quiver. “Could you not?”

”Alright.” Rory sighed. “I’m just saying you chose to have just the bad end of the deal. Apart from Maisie, that is.”

Fed up with this conversation, Rowan felt his pulse faster each second. He identified the anger he was feeling and repeated to himself that he would not snap at his mother over and over as he slowly wiped his hands on a cloth.

“I know you mean well, but I don’t like it when you tell me what I should’ve done,” Rowan explained in a carefully controlled tone. At that point, he had all of Yrene’s pdfs memorized. “It makes me feel…”

“You can talk to me,” Rory insisted when silence stretched, lips pursed as she looked too concerned for his liking. “How does that make you feel?”

Resentful. Frustrated. Hurt. There was no point in admitting that, though. The worst part is that no matter how much Rowan forced his face to look neutral, his mother still read him like a book. He drew out a long breath. “I need to pick Maisie up from school.”

The kitchen couldn’t be more silent after that.

˜˜

Turns out shoving his feelings down his throat was just what Rowan needed to go on with his day. His phone pinged around an hour past Maisie’s bedtime, and he already knew who it was.

Aelin: she’s still up??

Rowan: She’s too excited

Rowan: The first party I’ll be throwing for myself, *if* she falls asleep.

Aelin: lol lmk when i can come

Since they planned two separate celebrations before inviting each other, Maisie was now having two parties on the same day with both parents.

A small smile made its way into Rowan’s lips as he watched Maisie babbling in her kitten pajamas about her birthday tomorrow. She barely noticed he was using his phone, and if his little girl even suspected what was happening soon, her chances of falling asleep would be ruined.

Rowan: You don’t need to, I’ve got this

Aelin: stop fussing

Aelin: and text me when she’s out

“…I also like my birthday because I don’t have to brush teeth.”

Rowan crossed his arms. “Who told you that?”

“Mommy!” Maisie’s voice was more high-pitched than normal, and she looked a little too eager for his response, wearing a maniac smile. His daughter was such a bad liar, and Rowan hoped that never changed. At least not before teen years. She tapped the side of her head. “I have it in my rememberys.”

Rowan felt the warmth in his chest and refused to correct this mispronunciation. They got rarer each year, and he was enjoying the remains of this phase before it stayed just in his rememberys.

“Come on, Mais.” He kissed her forehead. “The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner your birthday will be here.”

She didn’t only close her eyes, but squished her eyelids together as if it’d make her fall asleep faster. “Maybe I can turn 7 and not 5 when I wake up.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s not how birthdays work.”

“But I want to be older than Charlie!”

After a lot of wrangling and lavender sleep spray on her pillow and reading books about hippos and answering that no, tomorrow isn’t Mrs. Hippo’s birthday as well, Maisie’s tiredness finally overthrew her birthday euphoria.

Rowan: She’s asleep.

Aelin: k. i’ll be there in 5

As carefully as he could, he removed himself from Maisie’s strong hold and went to the guest bedroom.

Rowan knocked on the door, even if it was open. “Everything alright there? She’s asleep.”

His parents let out a collective sigh, as if they were the ones fighting Maisie’s frenzy with their lives.

“Finally!” Rory whisper-yelled while getting up from the bed. She tapped on Rowan’s shoulders at the threshold. ”Time to do some baking.”

As loud as his mother could be sometimes, at least she understood that this preparation needed to be as silent as possible. If his daughter wakes up and sees what they’re up to… for Mala’s sake, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Crouching, his dad dragged a huge suitcase from under the bed and opened to reveal the new bane of Rowan’s existence.

Maisie’s acoustic drum set.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Buying her drums wasn’t enough, you got one kit so big it needed its own suitcase.”

His dad was smiling so much at that thing it showed off every crinkle around his eyes. ”Nothing more than what our Maisy Daisy deserves. And it’s pink!”

Rowan crossed his arms, feeling a little torn. As much as he hated the idea of leaving a very active kid with the loudest, messiest musical instrument of them all, it could be overwhelming when his parents and Maisie were together. Rory and Owen were the kind of doting grandparents Maisie deserves, and it warmed his heart to see how much his little girl was loved.

A notification from his phone snapped Rowan out of his thoughts.

Aelin: where r u??????

He frowned at his phone, confused.

Rowan: At home?

Aelin: GREAT. could you pls answer the front door????

Cursing under his breath, he quickly dismissed himself to get the door.

“Don’t worry about me, son! Sellene sent the link on how to assemble this.”

“Of course she did,” Rowan called over his shoulder from the hall.

Rowan’s heartbeat was a little quicker than he intended while fumbling with the door handle. He didn’t want to upset Aelin tonight, but

“Gods, Rowan, I was knocking for ages!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, but then frowned. “Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “And wake up Maisie?”

He grimaced. Their daughter didn’t wake up that easily, but he was actually glad she didn’t take the risk.

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his head. “Mom’s cooking, Dad’s assembling her drums, I’ll do the decoration.”

She blinked, eyes widened. “I’m sorry, drums?”

“Yes.” Rowan mimicked playing with drumsticks with the dullest face possible, to portray how unhappy he was with it. “Drums.”

“Dear Mala, this—“ Aelin cackled into her palm, shoulders trembling as she tried not to be loud. “You are so fucked,” she wheezed.

He squinted his eyes at her amusement, arms crossed. “Are you done?”

Of course she’d find this funny. The drum set was too big to fit into Maisie’s backpack when Rowan dropped her off at Aelin’s house.

“Alright, alright.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I can’t cook, and I’m not a percussion girlie. What do we’ve got?”

She was carefully silent the whole time Rowan showed his decoration plans.

“You got…” Aelin wrinkled her nose. ”Orange, pink, red and green balloons?”

“Maisie likes those colors!”

“But this is a terrible palette!” She complained, waving a hand at the packs of balloons displayed on the table, but then something about his face made her stop. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, I…” from Aelin’s furrowed brows, Rowan knew she was trying to mentally fit her unkind words into Yrene’s Guide On How To Communicate With Kindness. “I’m not a fan of the color scheme you chose. I think we can do better for Maisie.”

“Alright.” Rowan’s posture relaxed. “I’m listening.”

Rowan still didn’t know how to feel about this new technique. They were always saying how much they acknowledged each other’s efforts and feelings and respectfully disagreed. Sometimes, it made his interactions with Aelin feel too robotic, unnatural. It gave him a weird hollow feeling to see the two of them like this, but it was for the best. They were doing the best they could for Maisie.

After some explanations Rowan didn’t pay much attention to, Aelin decided the pink and orange balloons went better with the number 5 rose gold balloon he bought, and it was settled.

She rubbed her hands together. “Where’s the balloon thingy?”

“The what?”

Aelin gestured with her hands, but he could only understand a small, squared shape. “That thing we use to fill the balloons.”

Rowan tilted his head. “Our lungs?”

“Boo! Boring!” Aelin protested, but she was smirking at him.

He sat on the couch with the pink pack of balloons and tossed the orange one at her. “Come on, I’d like to get more than three hours of sleep tonight.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, lungs too busy to speak, being interrupted only when Aelin groaned about the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

Her eyes were full of mischief. “Do you think your mom will let me take a bite?”

“Only after Maisie wakes up,” his mom warned from the kitchen’s threshold, pointing between the two of them with a dirty whisk. Then she aimed a soft grin at Aelin. “But I’m making those chocolate hazelnut cookies.”

She sagged back on the couch, eyes closed while wearing a small, blissful smile. “Your mom is the best.”

“Thanks, darlin’!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Aelin chuckled and turned to him. “Shall we get the tape?”

Rowan shook his head. “Nope, it’ll ruin the walls.”

“Really?” She had her arms crossed and brows raised. “Are you worried it’ll ruin Maisie’s drawings? Because it doesn’t look like you care about the paint.”

Completely ignoring Aelin’s taunt, he kneeled in front of her and tapped his shoulder. “Hop on.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way the corner of her lip twitched. “This is terrible for your back.”

“You think I can’t take you?” Rowan wore a playful smile while watching Aelin’s blood rush into her cheeks. “Be careful, you’re about to bruise a man’s ego.”

Resigned, she carefully sat on his shoulders, cursing under her breath when he got up. When Aelin grabbed a fistful of his hair to support herself, Rowan’s body immediately tingled. It brought him back to another time when she’d yank his hair the same way, but he was quick to shrug it off. His memories were a menace.

“Okay…” holding Aelin’s legs, he kicked a balloon up and she caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding his hair. “Now rub it in my hair and put it on the ceiling.”

She was quiet for a second. “You want me to do what?”

He squeezed her calf for reassurance, since they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “I need you to make the balloon electrostatically charged enough to stick it to the ceiling.”

“And that’s better than tape?” He couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t sound happy.

“For Mala’s sake, Aelin, I’m an engineer! Just rub the damn thing in my hair.”

She kicked his torso with the heel of her foot. “Where are the manners Yrene taught you?”

“His mother too!” Rory called from the kitchen.

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, embracing his defeat. He was helpless when the women in his family ganged up on him. “Please.”

“Here we go.” Aelin did as he asked, and let out a squeal of delight when the balloon adhered to the ceiling. “It worked!”

“It had to. It’s a law of physics.”

She playfully kicked him again. “Killjoy.”

This was nice. The weight of Aelin on his shoulders didn’t even cause an itch, maybe because Rowan felt so much lighter right now he didn’t even notice the extra weight on his back. Just like he didn’t notice time running, only realizing how late it was when his parents went to the living room to say goodbye.

After they finished decorating the ceiling, Aelin started on the wall while he rested on the couch for a few minutes. As much as the orthopedist beside him disagreed, there’s no running from back pain after 30. In fact, at this point in his life, if Rowan didn’t wake up in some sort of physical pain, that’d probably mean he’s dead.

“What’re you doing?” He asked her as she grabbed the pack of green balloons, after they made a half-wall of pink flowers.

She filled a small one and placed it on the corner of one balloon flower. “A leaf! You wanted more green.”

That gave him a faint, very tired smile. Rowan barely remembered their disagreement earlier about which colors they were using, but apparently she did.

She sat on the couch next to him after adding a few more leaves to the flower wall. “I can help you with your old man's back pain if you keep teaching me cool Physics tricks. How about that?”

He snorted. “That’s basic high school Physics.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Of course you were the nerd.”

“And you weren’t?”

“Nope. Too cool for that.“ Aelin tried to conceal a distant look on her face as she reminisced, ”I was hot and depressed. Had bigger things going on than physics.”

Rowan stared at her, wide-eyed. “How did you get into med school without studying?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”

The TV’s remote control was right by her side, so Aelin turned it on Netflix. He didn’t feel like watching TV yet, though. Rowan didn’t miss the part about her being depressed during her teenage years, especially how she tried to laugh it off. The same way she downplayed her going to therapy weeks ago.

“So…” Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you now? With the… Yrene stuff.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “We’re doing better, right? At least that’s the impression I got from the last few weeks.”

Now that he was paying more attention, he realized Aelin sometimes talked about family while answering his questions about her. Rowan didn’t know if this was intentional, so he didn’t pressure her to correct her answer, but he didn’t like it either.

“I think so too.”

“And now that we don’t fight as much and I don’t spend half of my time being angry at you, I realized I have all this energy I can focus on something else.”

“Like what?”

He glanced at Aelin from the corner of his eye. She looked calm, relaxed. Maybe she didn’t lie to him about the reason she was seeing a therapist. Maybe Rowan was just being a worrywart and worrying about things he shouldn’t.

“I’m reading more, but sometimes I think about getting back into playing the piano too.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “And sometimes I think maybe Maisie could use some siblings.”

“You’re pregnant?” Rowan blurted, completely ruining the mood they were in.

“What?” She jerked at the couch, staring at him. “Why would you think that?”

“You just brought babies up!”

Why in hell was Rowan’s heartbeat so fast?

“Gods, no.” She sighed, relaxing again. “I just get pensive around Maisie’s birthdays, that’s all.”

That definitely wasn’t all. Considering having more kids just because one turned five isn’t a thing. Rowan felt his chest burn and tighten. It felt wrong to have his family fixed just so she could finally grow another, but maybe not in Aelin’s head. Maybe he was naive to think just him and Maisie would be enough for her.

Sensing something was wrong with him, she pressed play on a half-watched show on his TV. Good. His eyelids were starting to drop, but he was a trained military man. He could survive under the hardest conditions, especially exhaustion.

˜˜

Rowan woke up with Fenrys Moonbeam slapping the side of his head. He was laying on the couch with his legs intertwined with Aelin’s, who apparently fell asleep with her head on the other end.

Turns out his friend crashed into his daughter’s birthday breakfast because he assumed there’d be food, but everyone just shrugged it off as Fenrys being Fenrys and went on with the party.

As predicted, Maisie was a little bubble of excitement. Rowan had no idea what kind of bribery his parents would do to take her to school after that, or why they insisted on doing it in the first place.

It was all nice and easy, but the second Fenrys got him alone in the car, the questions started.

“Did a bug bite your ass on that old couch?”

Rowan had his eyes narrowed at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too stiff for your daughter’s birthday. Spill.”

He grimaced, hoping Maisie didn’t notice that. There was one thing going on inside his head today, but Rowan decided to give Fenrys some other answer. “Did you see my parent’s present? I’ll never enjoy silence again.”

Fenrys clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned off the radio. “When Maisie pisses you off by being a little hellion, you do that thing where you’re making pissy faces while trying not to smile. Now you’re just full pissy.”

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and she ignored the hollowness inside his chest as he recalled part of his conversation with Aelin last night. He was probably going to regret sharing this, but it was done now.

“She definitely wasn’t just thinking about it. She’s on the hunt.”

Rowan tilted his head. “The hunt?”

“Listen, man, Aelin’s different. The way she’s lighter when she talks, you can’t fake that shit.” Fenrys was counting on his fingers with one hand the same way they’d do on a mission, before becoming drill instructors. “She’s happier. Each year, her ovaries only get closer to the shrinking age or whatever. She’s on the hunt. She wants Mr. Right, and she wants him now.”

Rowan faked a bored look now that his friend could look at him during the red light. “Go on. Without the ovaries part, please.”

It was so frustrating how easily he engaged in Fenrys’ nonsense. But if he did, it must hold some truth, right?

“We need to avoid The Sam Mess from happening again.” Fenrys’ voice was so serious Rowan could barely believe it came out of his friend’s mouth.

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a mess. She didn’t- green light!” Rowan winced when the car harshly took off. There was a reason he didn’t let Maisie drive with Uncle Fen. “Aelin didn’t tell me about him, probably to avoid said mess.”

“Nope, I’m talking about you. You were a mess.”

“What’s your point?” Rowan was definitely going to snap at Fenrys if he mentioned Lieutenant Cortland again.

“My point?” His friend raised his hand in surrender and Rowan gripped the steering wheel to save them from a car crash. Fenrys immediately got back to it, cursing. “My point is to save my best friend from endless heartbreak.”

“Not an endless heartbreak, that ship sailed years ago.” A pause. Fuck, he was too curious to shut Fenrys out now. “But what do you mean?”

“It’s a complicated plan with many, many steps.” His friend gave him a look as if daring Rowan to disagree or find it funny. “But when the time comes, you’ll need to be fucking someone hotter than her.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. Like it was an easy task.

Over the years, he had a few flings. Real flings, not the kind where people move in and have children together, since Aelin insists on labeling what they had like this. But these affairs happened sporadically, and Rowan never considered turning any of them into something serious.

Showing up with some arm candy out of the blue just to spite Aelin sounded petty and desperate. There was no way Fenrys was talking him into it.

His friend continued, “Being hotter than her next boyfriend works too, but that’s harder to control.”

“You know, I’m almost regretting telling you this.“

“You have an advantage over Aelin—“

“If you’re trying to suggest I’m near as good-looking or interesting as her—“

“Not that.” Fenrys gave him a quick apologetic look. “But you’re a dude. Dudes are like taxi drivers.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Not one of your theories again.”

“Not mine. Sex and the City’s.” Fenrys raised a finger without taking his hands off the steering wheel. “We see someone there who looks like they won’t kill us, and they hop in. That’s how dudes work. Have you ever put your love life on hold because you were hoping to get the right person?”

Rowan refused to answer this question. “This is so sexist I can barely believe it’s coming out of a queer person’s mouth.”

“It’s Sex and the City wisdom, man. Those four chicks just know things.”

“So, basically…” Rowan sighed, weighing the absurdity of it all. “You’re telling me that being a slut will make me feel better about Aelin looking for a new family.”

“That’s the quick fix, yes. You should really talk to Lorcan too, though.” Fenrys glanced at him, smirking like the devil. “But in the meanwhile, I can even help you with a Tinder profile.”

You can get notifications when I update by either following me on @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[punkassbookjockey26]

Show and Tell

Yo yo yo, waddup. It's been a while since I posted anything, and not gonna lie, I'm not even sure if this is any good. But here it is.

Thank you to @shyvioletcat for providing the inspo for this story. Although, I did take a few liberties lol.

Rating: PG? PG-13? Who knows?

-------------------------------------------------

“Alright, everyone – let’s get our listening ears on and catch a bubble in your mouth!”

Rowan Whitethorn always felt a bit silly pulling on his ears and puffing out his cheeks, but whatever got his rambunctious group of Kindergarteners to quiet down was worth it. When pursuing a degree in education, he didn’t think he wanted to be in a classroom full of five and six-year-olds, but he had such a fantastic experience while student teaching that it seemed like a waste to be anywhere else.

“Now remember, we’re doing show-and-tell today. What do we do when our friends are up here talking?”

“Listen!” A chorus of children practically yelled it at him, and he smiled widely.

“That’s right. We listen, and we pay attention to what they’re saying. Now, is there anyone that wants to go first?”

Several children shot their hands straight up in the air, but one, in particular, was practically bouncing in her seat, almost too excited about getting selected. Everly Galathynius was a very precocious child. She had an overabundance of energy and effusiveness for a five-year-old that surprised even him. He had learned early on that when she felt emotions, she felt them strongly. Happy, sad, angry, upset – it didn’t matter. It was always a production.

It wasn’t that she was a bad kid. She loved school and being around her classmates. She caught onto concepts quickly and had a bright openness that made everyone want to be her friend. She was also fiercely competitive and wanted to be first in everything, whether answering questions or being a line leader. Needless to say that Rowan was not surprised to see her tiny hand shoot up in the air.

If there was anything that Everly struggled with, it was waiting her turn. Patience was not a strong trait that she possessed, and Rowan was adamant that she learn at least some measure of it before she left his classroom. So he purposefully selected another one of her classmates to come up first and almost laughed at the enormous pout that spread across her face.

His amusement only grew when he continued to ignore her pouting and called other members of her class up to share. Everly was practically vibrating in her chair when Rowan finally decided it was her turn. He barely finished calling out her name before she sprinted to the front of the classroom with her backpack, her two blonde pigtails flying behind her.

Rowan sighed. “Everly, you know we’re not supposed to run in school.”

Her excitement didn’t even dim for a second. “I know, but I want to share!”

He supposed it was his fault for keying her up with his impromptu “lesson,” but this child was going to be the death of him. “Alright then. Go ahead.”

Everly took a deep breath and pulled out what she had brought from her backpack. “Today, I brought my mama’s favorite toy!”

Rowan quirked a skeptical eyebrow toward the young child in front of him. “Your mother has a favorite toy?”

“Yes! I found it a while ago, and she told me. She keeps it in her room and won’t let me play with it, even though I ask really nice. But today, I found it in the bathroom!”

Everly dug through her bag as Rowan had a brief moment of clarity. But before he could reach the front and stop, she displayed the item she had brought high above her head like a trophy.

It was a vibrator.

A hot pink, glittery vibrator.

And Rowan was now in hell.

“Okay, that’s enough now, Everly!” Rowan exclaimed hastily. “Thank you for sharing! Let’s go ahead and put that away now!”

Everly took a step back and pouted. “But you let Declan share! I wanna share!”

Rowan stepped in front of her, blocking the view of the class. “You did share, Everly. And now it’s time for you to put it away.”

“No! I waited forever, and now I want to share! Please let me share!” She was near tears, and Rowan knew he had about two seconds to solve this before he had a full-on meltdown on his hands. He was quite unsure how to handle the situation, though. It wasn’t like they taught him this in undergrad. But he needed to remove the... object from his classroom, stat.

He hesitated, and Everly took full advantage immediately, darting to the opposite side of the classroom, still holding the vibrator above her head. “I didn’t even get to show the best part!”

Oh, dear god.

A loud buzzing noise filled the classroom, and his students were suddenly very interested in what Everly had in her hands. His students crowded around her, excited to see her new “toy.” Rowan forced himself through the throng to reach the perpetrator of the insanity, deftly plucking the offending object from her hands.

There was a moment of stunned silence before all hell broke loose in his classroom.

------

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, running through what he would say to a Ms. Aelin Galathynius about why he needed to speak with her urgently regarding her daughter. He hadn’t met her yet if he remembered correctly. Everly and her mother were noticeably absent at the parent night a few weeks back, and she hadn’t responded to any of the previous requests he sent out to meet. It was exceptionally bad luck that their first meeting would be him discussing how her daughter managed to get ahold of a vibrator and bring it to school.

Everly sat dutifully in the corner, her eyes cast down on the floor and her blonde pigtails hanging limply off her head. Realistically, he knew he shouldn’t punish Everly. She was five and couldn’t possibly know her item was inappropriate or how it was used. But that didn’t negate that Rowan now had to talk to a woman he had never met about her masturbatory aids.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Rowan heard the sharp unmistakable clacking of heels hitting the tile floors outside his classroom. The door pushed open, and while he hadn’t known what to expect, he hadn’t expected an impossibly gorgeous golden-haired woman dressed in an impeccable business suit glaring at him with anger scorching hot.

“Is there a reason you’re holding my daughter hostage, Mr. Whitethorn?”

Her hands were placed on her hips, her full lips downturned in a deep frown, and Rowan couldn’t help but be stunned by the fiery woman standing before him. He almost forgot why he needed to speak with her, but he quickly regained composure when it became apparent that she was surveying him like a lioness ready to pounce.

Rowan cleared his throat and came to greet her. “Ms. Galathynius, thank you for coming today. I need just a moment of your time to speak about what happened with Everly in class today.”

“Is she in trouble?” The blonde quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Well…no, not exactly.” Rowan flushed, rubbing his hand behind his neck.

“Was she hurt? Did you allow someone to bully her?”

Anger flared inside him. “Excuse me, Ms. Galathynius, but seeing as you have never met with me or really know anything about what happens in this classroom, I resent the accusation that you think I would ever allow any child to be bullied.”

She rolled her eyes, dismissing his anger. “Okay, well, if she’s not in trouble, hurt, or being bullied, why are you wasting my time?”

Rowan felt the indignation surge at the audacity of this woman. “ I didn’t realize that your daughter’s well-being was a waste of your time. Perhaps I should have called her father instead to help with this matter.”

Rowan visibly saw her shoulders tense. “He wouldn’t have cared, just like he didn’t care when he chose to walk out of her life four years ago to make a brand new family with his brand new wife.”

Her venomous admission momentarily stunned Rowan as she stared him down, and he felt some of the anger filter out of him. Regardless of the situation, he needed to understand why he had asked her to meet. “Ms. Galathynius, I apologize for that comment. It was uncalled for –

“You’re damn right it was.”

“- However, I do need to discuss with you the nature of Everly’s show-and-tell contribution today.”

She sighed deeply, and Rowan watched all the anger drain from her lithe body. “Alright, then. What happened during show-and-tell today?”

Rowan paused a moment before walking back to his desk. He pulled open the top drawer and gestured to the offending object, now stashed in a Ziploc bag and lying on a stack of papers.

He watched as Ms. Galathynius lifted an eyebrow in suspicion before rounding his desk to peer at what he was trying to show her. Her color completely drained as she took in the pink, glittery vibrator nestled inside the drawer. She looked back up at him with shocked eyes, a heavy silence hanging in the air.

Rowan wondered how long it would take for someone to break the silence. He had been mortified knowing that he would need to have this conversation. And although it hadn’t started out quite the way he had planned, he wanted to spare Everly’s mother the indignity of shoving her personal private life back in her face.

Ms. Galathynius stepped back, and Rowan noted the bright red heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She turned towards her daughter, clearing her throat. “Everly Grace, can you come here for a moment, please?”

Rowan watched as Everly gingerly slid out of her chair and shuffled towards her mother. She looked up with wide eyes lined with tears, and it broke Rowan’s heart. She hadn’t been in trouble with him, not really, but he couldn’t explain why he had to take her ‘toy’ away and why she couldn’t keep showing it to the class. The tantrum that ensued had been nothing short of legendary.

Her mother cleared her throat. “Everly, love, can you tell mama why you took her…um… special toy to school today?”

Everly perked up a bit, smiling at her mother. “I heard you talking about how much you like it with Auntie Lys the other day!”

The red on her face deepened, and Rowan stifled a laugh. Everly’s mother continued. “And you know you’re not supposed to go into mama’s room without permission, right?”

The brightness on her daughter’s face dimmed. “I know, mama, but I really, really wanted to share it because you said you like it so much! I like sharing my toys, too!”

Rowan couldn’t help it. A snort escaped him at the exchange, and Everly’s mother glared in his direction. Despite the hell this child had put him through today, her absolute innocence in the situation was damn near comical. And if he weren’t so embarrassed about the position he and her mother were now in, he likely would have laughed when it happened.

It sure explained a few things, though.

Her mother sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Sweetie, can you please wait right outside the door? I need to speak with your teacher alone. Just wait right there, and I’ll be out in a minute.”

The second the door shut behind Everly, Ms. Galathynius snatched her vibrator from the drawer and stuffed it deep in her purse. She turned to look at him, her hands back on her hips but with a noticeable flush still lingering on her skin.

“So, I suppose this is the part where I apologize for being a pill, but seeing as my child has embarrassed me enough today, I’m not going to.”

There was a beat of silence before both of them burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, I had no idea what to do with your child today, Ms. Galathynius. She ran around the room, waving it above her head like a flag. She even managed to turn it on, and that was a whole thing by itself.”

Everly’s mother wiped tears away from her eyes as her laughter died down. “Please, call me Aelin. And I swear, I had no idea she snuck into my room this morning. She told me that she was bringing her doll today. Serves me right for trusting my child.”

“Oh, so you know how your child behaves sometimes?” Rowan smirked down at her, and she rolled her eyes, albeit playfully this time.

“Would you believe me if I told you she got it from her father?”

Rowan pretended to think about it for a moment. “After meeting you today? Absolutely not.”

He smiled widely at her, and she returned it with a grin, momentarily stunning him for the second time that day. It transformed her whole demeanor. Gone was the stubborn mother who accused him of allowing her child to be bullied. Instead, Rowan had a beautiful woman standing before him, with hair spun like silk and bright turquoise eyes ringed in gold.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back away from Aelin just to get some distance. “Just one question, though.”

Aelin cocked her head to the side. “What’s that?”

“Grace? Really?”

Aelin's answering laugh drew him right back in. "I was hoping she would take after her name, but here we are."

She smiled at him again, and walked out the door to his classroom. Rowan felt himself warm with that smile, and watched as the door slid shut, wondering if he would ever have a chance to see her again.

----------

Tag List:

@faerie-queen-fireheart

@1islessthan3books

@superspiritfestival

@jesstargaryenqueen

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@morganofthewildfire

@chieflemming

@swankii-art-teacher

@rowaelinismyotp

@mariamuses

@booknerdproblems

@story-scribbler

@whoever-you-choose-to-love

@nehemikkele

@thegreyj

@livsdriverslicense

@elentiyawhitethorn

@highqueenofelfhame

[michealdontleavemeher3]

Hey guys! I'm back from the dead, I had this fic idea with some of my OC's!

Finley :) ^

---

Finley’s feet pounded over the muddy forest floor, leaves and twigs tearing at their bare legs. Their heart beat like a caged animal, and their breaths came in shallow, painful gasps. They could still see them in their mind—those men in white coats, faces cold, arms reaching to grab them. The lab walls closed around them with every thought. They squeezed their eyes shut, desperate to erase the images.

“Just keep running,” they whispered to themself, forcing their legs to keep moving. The woods were dense, stretching on in all directions. They had no idea where they were going—just needed to keep away from them.

Suddenly, their foot caught on something, and before they could react, a snare snapped around their ankle, jerking them off the ground. The world spun as they dangled upside down, their body swinging slightly with the force of the trap. Pain lanced through their leg, and they let out a choked cry.

They twisted, trying to reach the rope, but every movement made it bite deeper into their skin. Their panic flared—they couldn’t be trapped, not again. Not like them.

“Hey, who’s there?”

A voice, gruff and wary, echoed through the trees. Finley froze, clenching their teeth to keep from making a sound, but their desperate struggle had already given them away.

The man emerged from the shadows, his tall figure dark against the fading light. He had broad shoulders, a rugged face partly obscured by a grizzled beard, and a worn leather jacket. He looked exactly like the kind of man they had been trained to fear. Their heart hammered harder, and they forced themself to shrink back, the rope twisting painfully as they tried to avoid his gaze.

The man cursed under his breath. “It’s just a kid…”

He reached for a knife, and Finley flinched. They thrashed harder, feeling the rope bite into their leg, tears streaming down their face despite themself.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, noticing their reaction. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re tangled up in my trap is all. Let me help you down.”

Finley’s breath caught, their throat dry with terror. They wanted to believe him, but their instincts screamed to stay away, to run the moment they hit the ground. They managed a stiff, reluctant nod, and the man’s expression softened as he moved carefully, not getting too close.

With a quick slice, the rope gave, and Finley tumbled down. The man caught them by the shoulders, steadying them, but they tore away, stumbling backward and landing hard on the ground, ignoring the sharp ache in their leg.

“Easy now,” he said, keeping his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to hurt you. Name’s Rowan.”

Finley didn’t answer, their chest heaving as they sized him up, looking for any sign of danger. He could hurt them easily—they were half his size, and their body was weakened from days of running. But there was something in his expression that confused them. He looked… concerned, not predatory.

Rowan knelt slowly, lowering himself to their level, his movements slow and careful. “Are you alright?”

They didn’t respond. Their pulse was a roaring wave in their ears, but Rowan just waited, his gaze steady and patient.

Finally, they managed a small nod. “I’m… I’m fine,” they said, their voice barely a whisper. But their body told a different story. Their clothes were torn and dirty, skin bruised and scratched, and a hollow look lingered in their eyes—a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

Rowan watched them quietly, seeming to consider something. “Look, I know you don’t know me,” he began gently, “but if you’re out here alone, you could get hurt worse than you already are. My cabin’s not far from here. My husband and I can help you.”

The word “husband” caught them off guard. They glanced up at him, searching his face for any sign of cruelty or deceit, but he met their gaze with only a quiet, open patience.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”

Finley wanted to bolt, to turn and disappear into the forest. But as they looked around, the sky darkening, the fear of the unknown gnawed at them. They were so tired—tired of running, tired of looking over their shoulder, tired of hiding in the cold, damp forest. Reluctantly, they nodded.

Rowan offered them a small, kind smile, and they walked side by side through the forest. Finley limped, trying to hide the pain, but Rowan noticed, matching their pace with quiet, understanding glances.

When they reached the cabin, their heart seized up again. Standing by the porch was a man even taller than Rowan, with a soft, open face and a slight smile. Finley’s blood ran cold, and they took an instinctive step back, their shoulders tensing. They felt small, trapped between these two giants.

Rowan’s husband noticed their fear, his face softening. “Hey there,” he greeted in a low, gentle voice, lowering himself onto one knee. “I’m Eli. You’re safe here, I promise.”

They nodded stiffly, but every instinct told them to keep their distance. Inside the cabin, they could still feel their towering presence. They both seemed to take up so much space, and their voices, though soft, seemed to rumble around them, adding to the feeling of being out of control. They barely touched the food they offered, their gaze flicking between them as they ate, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

Days passed, and Finley stayed, not because they felt safe, but because their options were limited. Every day, they expected them to turn on them, to reveal some hidden motive. But Rowan and Eli seemed to sense their fears and respected their space, moving slowly, speaking softly, leaving them room to breathe.

They watched them quietly. Rowan moved with an effortless calm, his hands steady as he prepared food or tended to the fire. Eli, despite his enormous frame, was gentle, spending long hours carving small figures from wood with surprising delicacy. He’d sometimes leave one on the table for them—a small animal or a bird—tiny gifts they never acknowledged but carefully tucked into their jacket pocket.

One evening, Rowan invited them to join them outside by the fire. They nearly refused, but something in his quiet invitation made them say yes. They sat across from them, their massive forms casting long shadows in the firelight. For the first time, they felt a flicker of something other than fear—a strange, unsettling warmth they didn’t fully understand.

They sat in silence for a long time, and finally, Rowan spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whoever you’re running from… you’re safe here. Eli and I won’t let anyone touch you.”

The words made their heart twist. They wanted to believe him, but every instinct warned them against it. They’d trusted once, and it had nearly destroyed them. They glanced at them, shadows flickering across their faces, and a part of them almost believed.

But there was so much to unravel. So many nights they awoke in a cold sweat, their mind filled with memories of cold metal tables, harsh lights, and hands that held them down. And even with their gentleness, they were sure they could hurt them without a second thought.

But Rowan and Eli never asked them to explain, never pressed them for details. They simply made them a place in their home, protected them, and filled the silence with quiet acceptance. And slowly, over weeks and months, Finley began to feel something unfamiliar. The edges of their fear softened, little by little.

One morning, as the sunlight spilled across the table, they found themself speaking without meaning to. “They… They tried to make me something I wasn’t,” they whispered, their voice trembling, but Rowan and Eli listened in respectful silence, nodding, letting them find their voice.

They didn’t tell them everything, but that was the beginning of trust—a slow, tentative bridge between them. And for the first time in a long time, Finley allowed themself to hope. They knew it would take time, but Rowan and Eli seemed willing to give them all the time they needed, standing as quiet sentinels over the home they had promised to keep safe.

------------------

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story, it's heavily based on a series on youtube called save haven by 'samawry the bard'

Sadly he hasn't posted in a year and the series save haven is unfinished but if you want to give it a listen I definitely reccomend it!

[charliespringverse]

iwbft — tuesday: a brief summary of my annotations

all highlighted quotes: 136

· ouch/ow/owie: 12

· real/felt/relatable/so true: 5

· aroace: 2

· ☹/☹☹/☹☹☹: 9

Rowan is on his front, one arm slung over Jimmy's chest. Jimmy's head is tilted ever so slightly towards Rowan. — i've woken up like this with at least half my friends

The shipping itself isn't a major inconvenience to any of us. If anything, it keeps the fans interested. They think Judgement Day will eventually come and there'll be a big reveal that Rowan and I are secretly in love. There won't. We're not. — @larry shippers in the year of our lord 2023

It's always sort of been Rowan and Jimmy, plus Lister. We still love him of course. But that's just the way it is. — PAIN (note: this is all caps, huge, and triple underlined)

'I talk about The Ark all the time. I don't know why this was a surprise.' 'Fereshteh, it was a little bit of a surprise to me too.' 'Why?' 'I suppose... I suppose I never thought you actually cared about this band that much.' — parents vs actually listening to and validating their interests (failed, always)

Juliet chuckles weakly and looks away. I know she's had some bust-ups with her parents in the past. — understatement of the millennium

I'm an optimist. I like to believe that love exists. — it Does it just isn't always romantic/sexual. but it exists So Much

'I feel bad... feeling so happy when they're probably upset,' — ur so close to getting it queen

'Can't we just go home?' Lister mumbles. 'No,' she says. — foreshadowing innit

Rowan and I follow him immediately, like there's a string attaching us — ... invisible string addition to the folklore trilogy?

Lister tells us to go away, but Rowan just walks up to him and starts rubbing his back as he throws up. — ♡ listerowan bestieism

There's a big window on one side of the bathroom. Big enough to climb out, probably. We're on the ground floor. We could just climb out and run. Get up and go. — FORESHADOWING INNIT

Being trans has been a pretty you can big part of my life so far, thanks, but that shouldn't be particularly relevant here, in an interview about our music. — u can Never escape other ppl's obsession w ur transness

Dave laughs and says again, 'Now that's honesty.' — FUCK YOU DAVE (note: this is all caps, huge, and quadruple underlined)

I ask God to give me a bit of extra patience. Because every time Mac speaks, I sort of want to put an entire bag of cotton wool in his mouth. — what God is for x

Being a male fan of obscure old bands is, for some reason, more acceptable than being a female fan of a twenty-first-century boy band. — (also the obscure old bands are rarely that obscure. they're one direction for old white men)

They know exactly who they are. They put it in their blog about' page, they put it in their Twitter bio. I never know what to put in my Twitter bio so I usually just put an Ark lyric in there. — and when u enter ur confident aro-ace era? what then?

I like to think God does have a plan for everyone. But I also think there's too much shit in the world for all these plans to be perfect ones. Or maybe God doesn't have time to write a plan for everyone. And some of us are just trying our best and getting it a bit wrong. — i think this is why faith doesnt work for me

Everything's still there, though. My journals, my guitar, my main laptop, my childhood teddy bear, and the knife that Grandad gave me when I was sixteen. — now i want to know what he would admit to in one of them essentials interviews

It'd be useless as an actual weapon, since it's completely blunt - you can run your finger along the edge and not even get a scratch. — hhhh foreshadowing innit ☹

Not that he particularly goes seeking it. Everyone just wants to be friends with Lister Bird. — and yet he cares most abt getting closer to the two he shouldn't have to try for ☹

David [Tennant] thought she wanted a selfie, when in fact she was just trying to find the nearest toilet. — iconic

'Now, there'd better be some fucking Capri-Suns somewhere around here.' — me @ every function

When they were together they both seemed to stop worrying about everything else in their lives - Rowan was no longer an overworked band boy and Bliss was no longer a struggling student. They were just together. — ☹ justice for laimondi

Then he leans in and presses his lips against mine. Oh. Okay. Fine. This is fine. Can't say I realised this conversa- tion was going in this direction, but fine. — BAD (note: this is all caps, huge, and double underlined)

'But we're gods, Jimmy. What's better than that?' — pain. suffering. agony. heartache. torture, torment, anguish.

Holding it makes me feel real. It reminds me that I was born. That my life is something other than this birdcage I'm trapped in. Isn't it? Isn't it? — has his therapist ever discussed depersonalisation with him?

[angelwishess]

U haven't even reblogged it yet but assuming u will...

37,40 and 42 with all my kids. (NEW FANKID ASK GAMR) ROWAN TOO. DON'T FORGET THE POOR GUY

HWJEHEHE OKAYOKAY 🎀

Questions to the updated Fankid ask game here!!

37. ☹️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's something they SUCK at doing?

Marven sucks at Origami, actually anything that requires patience and a gentle hand… He just cant sit still and cant be gentle enough to actually do it right 😭

Evelio doesn’t like to try anything he doesn’t think he’d be good at … He has too much pride to ever admit he’s bad at anything HAHAHAHA 😭 But he’d probably suck at board games like Monopoly. I cant explain why, but the board games all hate him. (Alora always wins game night)

Alora sucks at taking care of plants. For some reason, whenever she gets one they die within a week, even when she makes sure and researches on how to care for plants they just ??? Keep dying ???

Rowan sucks at sports. Its not that hes not fit, he very much is because of Jack— but hes a bit too meek. He doesn’t like to cause trouble or get into any problems, so he lacks that assertion and aggression needed when playing sports.

40. 👀 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How aware of their surroundings are they? Do they flinch at the smallest noise, or do they sleep through a hurricane?

Marven is a 50/50. There are times where he is quite aware and cautious— but most of the time he’s in his own little Marven world😭 He’s definetly observant of people, but of his surroundings??? Probably not. Hes a little clumsy, not as bad as his mom but definetly clumsy.

Evelio is extremely aware of his surroundings and of people. He makes sure to keep a close eye on everything and everyone, just to make sure he wont be bothered by anything. But if hes asleep?? Oh hes ASLEEP. Sleeping Beauty has some competiton because he DOES NOTT wake up no matter what. He sleeps until his body clock says so. No amount of noise or water or whatever will wake him, it wont even bother him a tiny bit 😭

Alora … Is oblivious 😭 She literally is in her own world, and she doesnt really seem cautious of new people or things. Shes literally just “:D”—ing her way through life and honestly i love her for it

Rowan is EXTREMELY EXTREEMELY aware of his surroundings… He seriously just wants a peaceful life, so the moment he even hears a tiny hint of trouble?? Hes running the other way. But even then, life seems to like playing with him because he STILL gets involved no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.

42. 🏢 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ If they attend NRC, what dorm would they prefer to be in if not their current dorm? If not attending NRC, but another school, do they like their school? Or do they want to transfer to another?

Marven and Evelio don’t care what dorm they’re in as long as they’re in the same one.

Alora wouldn’t change dorms for the world!! A dorm full of ghosts, its her dream come true! Though a close second would be Diasomnia.

Rowan doesn’t want to even be in NRC anymore … Honestly he regretted his decision after the first few weeks of school after seeing his schoolmates (ahem Evelio, Marven, Jane, Lana, Maggie, Binnie…) and he was about to start tweaking out right then and there. Someone save him. Hes gonna overblot.

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 33: berries and exotic blends

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

this chapter contains nsfw content

Rowan and Lana stood by the bed, both trying not to glare at Murmison, who was ‘performing his miracles’ on Ceryse. It was always some variation of the same prayer to the mother every night and everyone but Aenys and Murmison were losing their patience. Ceryse, somehow, managed to mask her hostility with an amazing grace that Rowan admired fiercely. The hand of the King eventually bid them a good night and left, and all three polite smiles immediately dropped. 

“I do not know how much more of this I can put up with. Gods! He is insufferable!” Ceryse sighed as she got up from the bed, crossing her arms. 

“Truly! That thing he said tonight, about asking the mother to forgive you for any shortcomings that could’ve led to this? In what world was any of this your fault?” Rowan added, frowning deeply. She couldn’t believe Aenys thought any of this was actually of any help. He had the absolute privilege of an education people would kill for, and yet he was so easily persuaded by the words of that man. Rowan couldn’t understand it, where was all this charm she heard of? He was just some man.

“In the same world where that creep is hand of the King!” Lana chimed in, looking distraught. Ever since she returned to King’s Landing, she was completely bewildered by everything that she had missed. She had been involved in the narrowing down of her potential matches in Highgarden, and she had been away during the beginning of all this mess. Rowan nodded. 

“I still don’t understand why he was who the King chose. There’s so many other people he could’ve chosen instead.” Rowan added, completely frustrated by the King’s choice in council. Alyn Stokeworth was a good hand, that is before his early death, and surely there could’ve been a lord that could fulfil that role better than Murmison. He had a very creepy air around him. She didn’t like it. None of the three women did, certainly not after all the prayers for this miracle he had promised Aenys.

“Asking him to choose is where you’re going to have issues. I swear, he tells everyone what they want to hear and nothing else.” Ceryse said sarcastically, finally feeling relaxed enough to not speak in the pretty lies of court. She was clearly and rightfully frustrated with the King. He hated to have people angry at him, but this was not a good way to go about it. Rowan thought for a moment.

“Maybe you should talk to him. It’s been enough time of humouring his so-called solution, he’ll have no room to push for this to continue.” she concluded, crossing her arms. Aenys was, despite everything, a kind and loving man, and he was very fond of Ceryse. He was so occupied with everything that perhaps his judgement was not at its clearest, so if Ceryse went to talk to him in private, she’d surely make him see reason. 

“Do you think he’ll actually listen?” Ceryse asked, sounding tired. She looked tired of this whole situation. She had handled it all with so much grace and patience, and she looked like she was running out of both and Rowan could never blame her for it. 

“Yes. Make sure he understands that Murmison is not doing anything to help him or you. That way he’ll have to tell him to stop and hopefully pick someone else to be his hand.” she replied, feeling more sure of herself. Ceryse was smart, Aenys could not deny it, and thus, he’d have to consider how she felt about this strange method and eventually, come to realise how insane it was and apologise for it.

“And mention how creepy he is too.” Lana added, her face distorted to one of disgust. Murmison had an air about him, one that made them all not want to leave any woman alone with him. Lana was much less formal about her distaste of him than Ceryse and Rowan were, and she gave them both that push they needed to start being more assertive about all this. Rowan was happy she was back.

Lana had left for bed, and Rowan was getting ready to wish Ceryse a good night, when Ceryse gave her a warm smile, her annoyance gone for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” she said softly, gently. Rowan stood still, confused for a second, before looking up at her. She could not deny that everything was difficult for her since Maegor left, and she could only pray that nobody suspected anything, as she did her best to drown herself in work, trying to forget, to distract herself from everything. Ceryse’s gentle blue eyes were not accusing her, but they seemed happy for her.

“What?” Rowan asked, just as softly. “What do you mean?” She already knew what her friend meant. So far, she had been keeping herself so busy in order to distract herself from her heartache and the deep betrayal, but lately, the air felt lighter. She tried to forget about the letter Visenya had given her, tucked away and hidden carefully in one of her many books, but Maegor’s words both stung her and pushed her out of that deep depression she had fallen into. She tried not to think of him too much, a task that was monumental, but easier when she relaxed and trailed the routines she and her father had in King’s Landing.

She wrote to him, to her aunt and uncle, to her cousins, to her family that she missed so deeply, even to her two uncles, who were septons in Oldtown. Her father sounded happy that she was feeling better, his words full of kindness and love, that she wanted to run all the way back to the Evergreen forest and crawl back into her childhood bed where he’d tuck her in and read her stories. But the next best thing was to do what they’d always done together, making themselves useful to those in need. 

“You look a lot less sad these days.” Ceryse smiled again, treading gently with her words, testing to see if Rowan still felt fragile. Rowan was so glad that her dear friend was also interested in helping with the project, as it was a distraction for her as well, from Murmison, from Aenys. 

“Oh… I didn’t know I looked sad.” she furrowed her brows, giving Ceryse an apologetic smile. She didn’t want to be a burden to her friend, not when she had so much on her shoulders. She hoped she came off as more indifferent, as more relaxed, but it seemed that nothing escaped her friend’s careful eyes. Ceryse let out a small laugh.

“Rowan, you know you’re terrible at hiding how you feel. I know you were really affected by what happened, being so close to the Dowager Queen and all. But now, you’re going out more, you’re smiling, you’re laughing, you’re much less… gloomy. That’s good, Rowan, really good.” she said, placing her hands on Rowan’s shoulders. Rowan couldn’t help but smile. Despite how much pain her betrothal to Maegor brought her, she was so happy that she and Ceryse became even closer friends. She cherished her so much.

“Thank you, Ceryse.” Rowan held her hands for a moment, thankful for this moment. It would be better, despite what Maegor did, things would be better. They’d focus on the expansion of the orphanage, then focus on making the city a better place to live. She wouldn't think of Maegor. She’d try to not.

“Are things better with her?” Ceryse asked softly, a look of sympathy in her eyes. Rowan sighed, looking down. She wanted for things to return to how they were with Visenya, when Rowan trusted her more than anyone else, before she shattered that trust, but it would take time. Visenya was apologetic, far more than she’d ever seen her being. She was trying, and for Rowan, it was enough for now.

“I suppose… We just don’t talk about it. We’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. I don’t know…” she trailed a bit. How she wished she could explain to Ceryse all the complexities, all of the unspoken secrets, all of it, to grant her peace of mind, to grant her the truth behind her goodmother’s frosty demeanour, but she could not. 

“As long as she’s not causing more trouble.” Ceryse sighed in turn. 

“Yes, I don’t think Aenys can handle anything more on his shoulders.” Rowan said lightly. She worried about Aenys. She hated to see how sick with worry he was, how much everything affected him deeply. She promised herself she’d help. She wanted him to stand on his own, to understand that if he tried, he could keep things peaceful, even if it would take a lot of work. She wanted to yell at Maegor, to call him a fool for leaving his brother all alone with everything. Ceryse’s face turned serious at that moment, making Rowan pause.

“I feel it, something is going to happen. For everyone’s sake, I hope he’s prepared.” she said softly. Rowan felt it too, but she tried to rationalise it as anxiety and that Visenya would not let something bad happen to everyone, but she still felt it.

The next morning, Rowan had prepared the detailed plans for the expansion of the orphanage to give to Aenys. She knew he was drowning in everything wrong with the kingdoms, so it would be nice to make him feel like he was helping with something good, even though he wasn’t really doing anything to contribute. Everything was taking a toll on him and it worried Rowan. 

She walked toward the King’s solar, hoping that he wasn’t too busy this early in the morning, but as she got closer to the door, she saw Ceryse storm out of there, with Aenys calling after her. Rowan was left stunned, wanting to run after her friend, but she had gone in the opposite direction, toward her rooms. The King came to the door, looking bewildered, before his gaze landed on her. 

“Lady Rowan! Would you happen to have a moment?” he asked, his big, lilac eyes pleading for help. She fought the urge to run after Ceryse, and nodded.

“I was actually coming to see you, your grace.” she said politely and formally, as the guards seemed bewildered by the encounter between the King and his goodsister. 

“Good, good,” Aenys sighed and entered the room once more, “come in.” he said, motioning for her to follow. Rowan did so quickly, reminding herself that she shouldn’t rush this meeting, no matter how much she wanted to. She was now filled with worry about what occurred just moments ago in that very room. She watched him as he paced around the desk, pure confusion in his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked him gently, trying to get to the bottom of it all, although she knew that Ceryse would be the one to give her the whole truth of the matter, she still wished to talk Aenys through it as well.

“I don’t know! She just stormed out, after telling me she’s leaving for Oldtown!” he said, confused and a tad frustrated. Rowan’s eyes widened, her words gone from her tongue. Ceryse was leaving? Why? Why was she leaving when she had been so determined to stay and not give her position up?

“Did she not come to speak to you about Murmison?” Rowan asked, regaining her composure, gripping the leatherbound book in her hands. She did not wish to jump to conclusions, for she knew it was wrong, but it was now easy to see what happened, when Aenys looked down, defeated.

“Yes, that’s what she started the conversation with.” he said, opening his mouth to speak again, but closing it, regretting his decision. He seemed to understand that he had messed up, with whatever followed.

“And how did you respond?” she asked, patiently waiting for him to speak, urging him gently. Aenys seemed unsure of his own words, like he often did. Sometimes, she thought he spoke them more so to convince himself of their truth. 

“I told her that his methods may be strange, but in the end they’ll prove fruitful! So many people vouch for him!” he said, now sounding more frustrated. Rowan frowned. She felt a deep sense of disappointment that he continued to be so blind and naive, so much so that he was driving his goodsister away, the one person who could truly help him with the alliance she brought to his house.

“And have you met any of these people?” she asked, her tone less gentle, but still soft. She needed him to see, to understand. There was no person that came forward and claim that Murmison truly healed them, only the words of others who had seen him do it, as they claimed. But this could all be a lie. “Do you know how uncomfortable it is? To have to lay there while an old man is praying over you to ‘fix’ you? There’s no way of knowing that any of his ‘miracles’ actually work, let alone knowing that this is Ceryse’s ‘shortcoming’ in the first place. I don’t understand why you believe in the word of this man so much!” she said, and with each word, she had to remember to remain calm. The anger she felt was for Ceryse’s behalf, for the failure of the two men to keep her safe. Aenys seemed to freeze for a moment.

“He… he said he could fix things. I thought…” his voice was soft, thin, ashamed. It gave Rowan the hope that he was finally seeing reason. She walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently, before speaking up again.

“Aenys…” she spoke softly again. “There’s no magic solution to fix everything. And I can guarantee to you, the last person to fix things for you is Murmison.” she said, trying to urge him gently toward a different decision, a better one. At this point, anyone could be a better hand for him. “I know everything feels impossible, like there’s no right choice to make, but I’m sure if you try, you’ll pull through.” she assured him, trying to cheer him up a bit.

“Thank you…” he sighed, looking away for a moment. “There’s… there’s something that I think will help.” he said after some time, like he was deciding to let her in on a secret.

“What’s that?” she asked. It made Rowan nervous, worried that he had fallen for the pressures and whims of some lords that took advantage of his kindness. Aenys smiled slightly, standing up straight.

“Aegon and Rhaena will wed at the end of the year. A celebration and a royal progress, they’ll bring joy to the realm, help calm things down, don’t you think?” he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes, like he was asking for her to agree with him, to tell him he’s right for once. But Rowan stood in shock. “You don’t think so?” he asked, disappointed. 

Rowan tried to pull herself out of the shock and disgust she felt, he was still her King, and more than that, he was becoming a friend. She chose her words carefully.

“I… it’s just that… they’re both so young, Aenys, they’re still children.” she said softly, trying to bring herself to sound calm. In truth, she was horrified, mostly for Aegon and Rhaena, two young children, forced to marry a sibling? Gods, the poor dears. But what could she say? 

“Well, both Alyssa and I were around their age when we were wed. They get along so well, it’s a great match!” Aenys sensed her worry, and placed his hand on her shoulder in turn. He seemed so happy in his decision, the first time in a long time, and she felt a bit of guilt that she had to say what she had to. She took a deep breath.

“Aenys… The faith is already not on the best terms with the crown, not after Maegor defied them so openly. Maybe… maybe you should wait. Try to smooth things over with the High Septon, and Ceryse, first and foremost.” she said gently, softly, trying to tell him that this would be a disaster. Marrying a cousin, a distant one, was not uncommon, as the couple would be raised apart, but this? To have to marry someone in their own close family?

“You… you don’t approve of the match.” Aenys’ smile faltered, disappointed that Rowan was not happy. He looked away for a moment, contemplating something. Had he been relying on Rowan’s support? Did he tell Visenya and she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, so he searched for it in Rowan?

“How I feel is irrelevant. But how the faith will react matters.” she said, speaking more plainly now. She had to think of Rhaena and Aegon, how they’d be feeling about this. Did they not dread it? Then again, they were not raised into normal family dynamics, who knows how they’d taken the news?

“They’ll see reason, Rowan, don’t worry. Targaryens are not the same as everyone else.” Aenys sounded more calm now, strangely calm. Who was feeding him such lies? His father was always careful with the faith, and Maegor’s actions were proof of what defying them did.

“I… Aenys… I don’t think it’s a wise choice. At least not at the moment.” she repeated. At least if he waited, if he mended things, if he got the High Septon on his side, maybe it wouldn’t be a bloodbath, but now? Now as things were this tense? Aenys did not share her worries, for what seemed to be the first time. Instead he had a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite read.

“I understand that it’s difficult for everyone to see the reason behind our traditions, but it is my duty to uphold them. It was something my father and I discussed when they were young.” he said. He sounded sad. He clearly missed his father, but it surprised Rowan that this was the Conqueror’s wish, to see his grandchildren wed to each other. Especially when he knew what kind of backlash this would cause. It was strange that he did so little to ease the realm into such actions. She decided that the Conqueror was not always the brightest man.

“I understand that, but things are fragile right now, you know this. There’s still time for them, they’re still so young, you can find the time to win over the people again before making a decision that will be so divisive.” she said, still hopeful that she could get him to understand, to get him to not do this, to prevent disaster. 

“Divisive?” he asked, appearing surprised, if not a bit offended that Rowan just called their incestious traditions divisive. She looked at him, praying silently to the crone, to help guide her to make the right choice, to use the right words.

“Yes. Surely, you can see that, Aenys.” she said gently, trying to get him to see her side, or better yet, everyone else’s side. She was never truly alright with Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya, as it always felt so wrong, so bad, so unnatural. Even more when she got close to Visenya and truly saw and understood how bad it truly was, despite her love for him. She prayed that a similar fate wouldn’t meet the young Princess and Prince. So far, Rhaena was playing with puppies and horses, and flying with Dreamfyre, and Aegon was making friends around the castle. She couldn’t imagine them in such a situation. They should be left alone, allowed their childhoods without this mess that could fall upon them.

“Perhaps we should talk another time.” Aenys said, sounding very distant. Rowan could not tell if she got through to him, but her intuition told her she had not. He was merely disappointed that she didn’t see his vision of the future, an optimistic and naive vision. She frowned.

“I understand.” she said softly, as she left the room, her book still unopened. She was supposed to discuss the plans with him, to perhaps get him to leave the castle, to show the people that the King cared about them and their wellbeing. But instead, she feared disaster was coming. She needed to talk to Visenya. Surely she’d know what to do.

But first, she hurried down the halls, passing the many unfinished rooms and half built walls, to reach Ceryse’s room. She wanted to see her, to ask her why she wished to leave. If she could get Aenys to talk to both of them, surely they’d manage to be rid of Murmison’s ‘treatments’. At her door, she found Morgan, who was deep in thought, before her footsteps alerted him to the presence of someone, causing him to reach for his sword, only to be relieved to see it was just Rowan. 

“I’ve come to see how she is, she was so angry when I saw her storm off.” she told him, looking between him and the door. He seemed worried as well, but he did a much better job than Rowan in keeping it calm. Morgan nodded.

“She’s packing her things. She said she wanted to be alone for a bit.” he said softly, looking down at her. Rowan frowned. Ceryse was truly determined to leave King’s Landing. She looked down for a moment. Would she be selfish to ask her to stay, to change her mind? She was the wife, the only rightful wife of the Prince of Dragonstone, she had a place in the capital, her voice was supposed to be heard here, she was the light of Oldtown, the one that was to build the bridge between crown and faith, and yet Aenys was failing her, running her out of her new home, despite it not being his intention, and then he was planning to perform a marriage of pure sin between his two children. Would Ceryse’s presence here even help? If anything, Aenys might even pressure her to speak in support of this, risking a rift between her and her own family and faith. Perhaps it would be best if she returned home, at least to avoid the storm that was coming.

“I understand. I’ll check on her later.” she nodded, turning to leave. She wanted to speak to Visenya, to get her to speak to Aenys, this time with her there to mediate, to keep them both calm, to find a way out of this mess. 

“Wait!” Morgan called after her, taking her hand in his. He looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was there to listen. “I know you’re in the Dowager Queen’s service, but do you really wish to remain here?” he asked her, looking into her eyes. Rowan was at a loss for words for the second time this morning. 

“What do you mean?” she asked without thinking. 

“I mean… What future could you have in this city? Sooner or later, chaos will ensue if things do not change. You should come to Oldtown. It’s safe, stable, closer to your home, your family. I know you miss them all dearly.” Morgan said, his voice gentle and warm. He could sense it too, even without knowing, he felt the danger. He was a kind man, someone she was glad she met, and even more glad to know he was devoted to protecting his sister. 

“My lord… I cannot just leave…” she replied softly, barely above a whisper. She loved Visenya. She had been there for her when her true mother could not, she was in almost every sense of the word, a mother to her. She could not leave her, to abandon her, even if she was beyond hurt and barely now healing. No, she could not do it.

“Consider it an invitation. Our fathers have not seen each other in some time, I’m sure they’d love to catch up. Oldtown is where your house sells most of the wood is it not? I know Ceryse would love to have you there… as would I.” he said, holding her hand so tenderly. Rowan stood there, surprised at how forward, yet formal, he was being. Ceryse had made some comments about how fond of her he was, but Rowan was too distracted by her hurt to truly notice, to truly give it proper thought. She was flattered, yet her heart stung, as it belonged to another man, one that was far off to Pentos.

“Morgan… I don’t know… I would love to visit, believe me I do, but I cannot abandon my duties here.” she said, placing her hand on his, as he held her other hand. It was the truth. She loved their company, and she loved Oldtown, it was no lie. And Morgan was kind and chivalrous and sometimes even sweet. She felt so much guilt again. Here was a man, a knight, who was subtly making his affections for her known, and her stubborn, loyal and hurt heart felt as though she was betraying Maegor and herself. Thankfully, Morgan did not give her much time to dwell on her sadness. 

“Perhaps if she gave you a few moons to relax? Surely, if your father asks her to, she will not deny it. They’re close friends, are they not?” he asked. Rowan supposed it wouldn’t do much harm, a moon or two. But it was still risky. She wanted to be here for the project, she wanted to make sure Aenys had someone to talk to, she wanted to remain by Visenya’s side. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish to run away at times. 

“I…” she trailed, unsure of her own words. “I’ll write to him. But I cannot know for sure. Things are so unstable, and I can only fear for the worst lately.” she admitted, giving Morgan an apologetic smile. 

“You and I both.” he chuckled lightly, looking down for a moment. “But please, consider it. We’d all love to have you.” he said gently, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And your father as well, of course.” he added quickly, trying to not be so obvious, let alone when his sister was in distress. Rowan couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m flattered, Morgan.” she said, feeling a bit better. 

Maegor felt another headache coming in. He had made himself some chamomile, recreating all the steps Rowan would take when she’d make him some. It was like he was becoming even more lovesick by the day. He could not help it. He only dreamt of her at night, and even in the day and yet, he drowned in guilt even more. He read the letter his mother had sent him, the cause of the headache.

‘Your brother plans to wed his eldest two by the end of the year. With how tense things are, I want you to be ready to step in. I doubt he can handle what will come, he will surely rebuke his own order of exile and beg for you to return. Make sure you and Balerion are ready. I want you ro return, looking like the King you were always meant to be.’

His chest puffed up in pride, knowing that his mother believed in him so fiercely. With everything they had planned coming closer and closer to fruition, he couldn’t help but feel a buzz of energy for it all. He had been spending all his free time training, fighting like a beast, readying himself to be a warrior like no other. He wanted to be the strongest, the most powerful, the one that could protect the people he loved the most, his mother and his Rowan. He wanted to see her again so badly, it hurt. 

‘I know you will ask, and she is doing well. I gave her your letter, and she’s kept it. Her moods are lifted, and your brother puts a lot of trust in her. She has been getting involved with the people of the city, having plans to make it better, more livable, as she says.’

His heart welled up with pride. Oh, his darling, she kept his letter and did not tear it to shreds! He was glad, so glad that she was better, that she was her old self again. Of course his sweet girl would want to help, she always did, and now she had the chance. He wanted to tell her to just wait for him to return, to claim the throne and crown, and she could do upon the city as she wished. There was no one he’d ever trust more, aside of his mother. He was relieved she was happy again. He selfishly wanted to believe that his words of love had something to do with it.

‘Your wife has left King’s Landing for Oldtown, along with her brothers. She’s had a falling out with your brother. It was his fault. He listens to the fool he has made his hand.’

He frowned. Aenys and Ceryse had always gotten along, how in the world did he manage to make her lose her temper? He wished his mother had written more. Maybe it would be easier that Ceryse would not be there when he returned. It could give him time to sort everything out, and then seek her out to explain. She’d see reason, he knew it.

It was always an unwritten, unspoken expectation and reminder with his mother, the need for an heir, a son. Things were falling apart quickly under the rule of his brother, which only meant his time was coming to take the crown for himself. If he could not have a son by then, he could at least have Alys expecting one. 

He sighed. Even from his room, he could hear her and Tyanna laughing. It annoyed him, it distracted him from the anticipation of any news from his mother, but now that the letter was read over and over again, he locked it away. 

Tyanna was a strange woman. A beauty, yes, but she had an air around her, her black eyes seeming to know so much, but she would not outright say so. Alys was completely enamoured by her, fawning over her, laughing at even the most unfunny joke, hanging by her every word. It was a bit pathetic, but then again, he knew he wasn’t one to talk. It annoyed him how easily Alys had accepted her into her chambers, after she had barely known her, avoiding any sense in her brain. 

Unlike Alys, Tyanna seemed to prefer the chase. She clearly liked having Alys fawning over her, trying to impress her and Maegor was almost certain that she might actually have some affections for Alys as well. He would never care to know any of this, had Alys not dragged Tyanna into his room, on more than one occasion, in order to get all three of them ‘closer’. He did not understand, since Alys was clearly so enamoured with her, why she’d want her in the room while they performed their marital duties in hopes of an heir, let alone want her to join in. 

To her credit, Tyanna refused almost gracefully, for someone of her station. She did however, slowly win Maegor’s grace, for her vast knowledge. She had given them foods, berries and jouiced pomegranates, and teas to make their coupling more intense. Maegor just suspected that she was a common whore that charmed Alys, but she was more than that. She had tools he could use when he returned as King. 

Eventually, after Alys’ annoying pleading, he relented and allowed Tyanna to join in his chambers. It was awkward at first, as Alys was trying to impress Tyanna, Maegor was trying to chase a dream of his love, and Tyanna was testing the waters. They figured it out soon enough, with Tyanna focusing entirely on Alys, taking great pleasure in preparing her, giving her foods and teas to enhance her fertility, her chances of giving him an heir, and of course, in giving her pleasure. 

He was more than happy to let them take care of each other, as it gave him one less thing to care about, as selfish as he was, but Tyanna had more suggestions. She had insisted she knew how to make this even better for him, which he highly doubted, as his idea of perfection was untouchable, but he humoured her. She had him sit up on the bed, while she and Alys took turns stroking and licking him. He could not decide if he hated it. He could not imagine Rowan like this, he could not smell the jasmine, he could not escape into his dream. It wasn’t like it felt bad, but it wasn’t what he preferred. He made a note to stop them after this and tell them he didn’t care for it, but for now, they seemed to want to give him a show.

His mind however, was not occupied by the two women that pretended to compete for his attention on their knees. No, it was in the same place it always was in moments like these, to Rowan. His mind went to her and he was angry again, at the thought of that pathetic Lannister finding any excuse to touch her, be it by kissing the back of her hand or offering his elbow to her for a stroll. He’d kill him if he saw him again, he vowed it. He’d tear him limb from limb and he’d make sure he’d be awake to still torture while he lied there helpless.

He then wondered, would Rowan think the same? Did she also want to kill Alys when she heard the news and he ran like a coward. A far more twisted thought came to mind… would she kill for him? Would his darling kill the two women in front of him right now? He knew she’d never hurt a fly, she was too kind for her own good, but gods be good, she’d look so pretty covered in blood just for him. He wondered how she’d do it, a knife, an axe, a sword? He’d give her Blackfyre, if she could lift it. Perhaps he’d help her, hold his hands over hers while they took the fatal swing together and perhaps she’d let him kiss her while she’s covered in the blood of the two corpses on the floor.

He could see it vividly, far more vividly than Alys and Tyanna, who were generously giving him a show. But that was always how it was with sex. With Ceryse, it wasn’t too vivid, it was a routine, a chore that both needed to participate in and neither wanted to truly be there. But with Alys, his mind could go wild. Her hair was almost the right colour, almost just as curly, her skin tone almost the right warmth, her honey brown eyes almost green if the room was dark enough. Almost was enough for him to pretend quite vividly, and with Tyanna’s aphrodisiacs, sex could be enjoyable, if he could picture his Rowan enough. He didn’t like the thought of her joining in at first, but her blends proved helpful, and Alys was having her fun. If they were all using each other, they could at least find pleasure in it.

It was sick and cruel and he knew it, but Alys didn’t, and if she did, he didn’t care. When he got her the hair oils that smelled like jasmines, the silk nightgowns in green, the honey he made her lick off a spoon before she kissed him, it was wrong and deep down he knew how twisted it was. But he still didn’t care. He loved to take her from the back, to not look at her face, and have her hair all curled up, the candlelight adding that red warmth to the strands that made the fantasy almost perfect. He loved to have her like that, so he could grab her hair, with the same hand the precious ring was on, and smell the jasmine and pretend it was his darling bouncing beneath him. It was selfish, to use her like a placeholder doll, far more selfish than what he did with Ceryse. Alys was certainly enjoying herself, but he thought she was enjoying what Tyanna was doing to her much more. It didn’t bother him, she could have her fun too, since he was already using her so blatantly, why not allow her this pleasure? 

Every night they visited his chambers, it came close to perfect, if he wasn’t so ready to pick them both apart. He never said anything out loud, for even he wasn’t that cruel, but it was obvious to both women that he was never truly satisfied with them. Alys would pout at first, before deciding that it was just the way he was and ignoring it, but Tyanna was not one to let things go, not when it was of potential benefit to her.

It was clear what she wanted. Power. He could give it to her, he took her from being a tavern dancer that worked for food and shelter, to a courtesan, because even if he was exiled, he was still a prince with massive wealth. He was no fool, he could see right through her false smiles and fake politeness. She was just like him, hungry. For power, wealth, for more. Many shared such ambitions, he didn’t blame them for trying to come close, but unlike most of the women willing to sell themselves for it, she had more to offer. Promises and potions for what he was so desperate for, an heir. She was a witch and did little to hide it. In Westeros, she would’ve been dead the second she said it out loud, but here in Pentos, she had the freedom she needed to grow her talent.

She’d make a useful ally to have. And if she proved herself, if Alys did indeed give him an heir, he’d have her with him once his brother grew a spine or his five years passed. She seemed content with having his ear, being his mistress, but he knew she’d want more. The question was if she was worth it.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[needcake]

Day 3: rebuild

Engport | G | 600 words

@engportevents

.

.

Obituary, 19th of March, 1979:

It is with profound sadness that the family of George Kirkland announces his passing after prolonged illness, at the age of 89. Mr. Kirkland is survived by his five children and loving wife.

The funeral service will be held at South London Crematorium, Rowan Road at 12pm on Sunday 25th March. All are welcome to attend. Please make any charitable donations to The British Heart Foundation.

-

Job posting, 22nd of June, 1979:

Caretaker for elderly widow

Requirements: experience in the position, fluent English. Desirable: good conversationalist, knows how to play bridge. 10£/hour. Details by phone: 020-35844783

-

Ad, 4th of May, 1982:

The Flying Cod

GRAND OPENING

Join the Kirkland brothers in the grand opening of The Flying Cod

On Saturday, May 8th - 9577 Mill Lane London

Free chips until stocks run out!

-

News excerpt, 14th of January, 1983:

The police could not determine who started the fire, but from eye-witness accounts it is believed that the owners of the establishment had a disagreement and that it escalated throughout the night, resulting in an all-out brawl. Luckily, they were able to evacuate the premises before the fire reached the second story of the building, but medical teams reported two wounded from the fight.

Neither Mr. Kirkland could be reached for comment.

-

Ad, 28th of March, 1983:

The Flying Cod II

RE-INAUGURATION

Join the Kirkland brothers once more to celebrate the re-inauguration of our favorite pub!

On Saturday, April 2nd - 9577 Mill Lane London

No free chips

-

Job posting, 12th of April, 1983:

Bar manager

Requirements: being fucking good at your job, not being an arsehole. Availability to start right away. Details by phone: 020-35844783

-

Job posting, 13th of April, 1983:

Bartender

Requirements: not being an idiot, ability to serve drinks and keep glasses clean without breaking them, can’t be that fucking hard. Availability to start right away. Details by phone: 020-35844783

-

News excerpt, 27th of April, 1983:

The owners of the pub, Arthur and Alasdair Kirkland, were taken by the police to the station after the fight, where they will have to answer for charges of Actual Bodily Harm (ABH) and Assault On A Police Constable In The Execution Of His Or Her Duty. Both Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Kirkland’s lawyers advised their clients to give no comment to this newspaper.

-

Obituary, 29th of April, 1983:

It is with profound sadness that the family of Áine Kirkland announces her passing, at the age of 86. Mrs. Kirkland is survived by her five children.

The funeral service will be held at South London Crematorium, Rowan Road at 12pm on Thursday 5th May. All are welcome to attend. Please make any charitable donations to The British Heart Foundation.

-

Sales posting, 12th of May, 1983:

Pub glassware and kitchenware for sale. Details by phone: 020-35844783

-

Headline, 7th of August, 1983:

Former Pub Owner Hit By Double-Decker Bus

-

Job posting, 12nd of August, 1983:

Caretaker for snobbish brother

Requirements: experience in the position, the patience of a saint. Desirable: good looking bloke with a Portuguese accent, knows how to play bridge. 12£/hour. Details by phone: 020-35844783

-

News excerpt, 23rd of October, 1983:

A neighbor approached our reporter to say that she has filed a complaint against the noise with the building manager: “They are at it every night, my cats are traumatized!”

-

Ad, 21st of December, 1983:

The Flying Cod III

RE-INAUGURATION – THE LAST ONE!

Join us to celebrate the final re-inauguration of our favorite pub!

On Christmas Day, December 25th - 9577 Mill Lane London

Free fish and chips until 8p.m.

Drag shows on Tuesdays!

.

[questionable-chnt-hc]

someone makes the mistake of letting juniper find out what the love languages are, however, they don’t clarify how bullshit they are too. and also it’s juniper. so he 1) won’t shut the fuck up about them 2) unintentionally uses them as a manipulative tactic to avoid changing his occasionally hurtful behavior

or so that is until one time rowan’s patience runs out and i imagine he points something out and juniper says “ah but my love language says that i cannot—” and rowan doesn’t even in engage in a conversation, he just makes eye contact almost as intense as the sky at exactly ten past noon. so intense that it makes rowan pause his sentence.

apparently if you just stare at juniper, he can’t actually change the subject! and he also learns to stop labelling basic requirement of his jobs as acts of service

Juniper: my love language-

Rowan:

[lt-taylor7]

“Patience” Rowan Callaghan x reader (PART 1) ———————

A/N; I haven’t written fic in years so be patient

warnings; gender neutral, Series, Partially slow burn, lime/lemon later on, kinda self insert, kinda OOC, Somewhat ignores story of HBH, angst later on, reverse comfort eventually, This part is just story building and introduction. NOT PROOFREAD

—

Hartley high was a shit show of a school, Especially since Amerie, (Map Bitch.) fucked up the entire schools year by her stupid stunt. One that you were glad to be missed out on, although your sure your names somewhere else in the world labeling you some sort of slur.

Having your moment of weakness, staring at the entrance, students piling in on either side of you, you contemplate just turning around. But alas, you made your not so grand entrance, a few people laughed and called names, as they would to anyone.

you quickly found your classes and seated yourself, not entertained by the class filling but rather by whom it was filled by, all familiar faces, some whom you knew more than others, although one whom you’ve never seen before. Longer hair, Nothing past his shoulder length, and a best layered over a flannel. Not the smartest outfit choice in this weather, you noted, moving on to the next face walking in.

it didn’t take long for the classes seating arrangement to be changed due to some loudmouths sitting in the back were acting like preschoolers. You were now sat right beside the door in the back corner, feeling banished by the teacher, However you knew you were trusted, and that’s why you were sat there. It was shortly after the unknown face with the vest was sat next to you.

He made an awkward moment of eye contact with a small smile before dropping his head and taking the seat, you tried to return the smile before missing the opportunity.

“Rowan, Right?” You asked quietly as other students still found their seats, he looked over, “oh, yeah, Y/n?” He asked, a questioning look on his face, an unreadable intention. “Yeah-“ you responded nervously. He just nodded before looking back to the teacher as class started.

—

“hey, do you have a calculator-?” Rowan asked quietly with a nervous chuckle. “I think so, just a minute.” You say, digging through your backpack for a minute before grasping a small calculator and handing it over, arm not extending enough to reach his desk, “thank you,” you said in a breathy whisper as he grasped it from your hand, An embarrassed blush across his face as he typed in the equation he was working on. —

“Uhm, Sorry do you understand what this means?” You asked, leaning over to ask Rowan, pointing to a question you didn’t understand, his eyes meet yours for a moment before he looks down at the page, whispering out the question to himself and looking over it, he leaned closer and moved his chair a bit closer to your desk, jotting down a couple scribbles and notes, “I think X just converts over to SIN minus one.” He says, picking up the calculator from earlier and typing in a quick equation before jotting down whatever he got before looking up to meet your eyes again, another unsure expression past his face. It stays like that for a minute before he opens his mouth, leaning back up to his desk. “At least I think that’s it-“ he says with a chuckle. You laugh back, “Looks right to me, thank you.” You say with a smile, he just nods back before turning his attention back to his page. —

You walked through the hall, Trying to find your locker before going for class photos in the gym, “Hey Y/n?” You turn to face the voice, it was Rowan again. He lightly jogged over to your locker, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you know where the gym is? I was supposed to go for photos and I can’t find it-“ he said nervously, clearly embarrassed. You smile, “Yeah, I have to head that way anyways, I’ll show you.” You respond, closing your locker, snapping on the lock before turning to the hall leading to the gym.

“You really know your way around, Have you been here long?” Rowen asks, A warm look across his face as you ducked through the halls together. “Oh yeah, You learn you way quickly though.” You say with a small laugh as you stepped into the gym. “Looks like we made it just in time.” You say looking over your year getting ready for a group photo, “Yeah I guess so.” Rowan says before going separate ways to find spots in the group. You saw as he walks through the group and finds himself stood beside Amerie. You slightly snickered to yourself and made a mental note to stay away from her this semester as much as possible.

——

I have so many plans and ideas for this story and I’m so glad to see where it goes, Please comment any suggestions!!

[chaoticcutiewhirl]

Oh yeah uh-

Probably shouldn't make this post with only half approval but this is Tumblr, we can be trashfires here for the bit: We realized we are plural which honestly explains a lot in our way of having rapid mood changes and generally very different demeanors at times. To give a run down:

Ava/Avarstia Sylvia S. - The Host, She/Her, Aceflux Lesbian, also Very much a Lamia Otherkin. Same age as body (20)

Lucinda - She/her, Pan Lesbian(?), Bunny >:3 (Also in control currently), and also I may be 18 or 19, idk but I know I feel a little bit younger than the body

Avarstia F. - She/Her, Lesbian (Taken), Half-Demoness/Death Goddess, Fictive Introject (From book Sylvia is writing)... She is atleast 700 given the memories that came with her

Rowan - She/They/?, Undecided, Something Folkloric, she is still getting used to being seperate and has been struggling so she is still not fully understanding what she is beyond knowing we share the same body and are all sort of on the same level. Also Age is fairly unknown but is likely older than the body, unknown as to how much older however.

I will also say there could be more but we only know about the 4 of us so far, and still are figuring out the whole system thing as we may have been unknowingly split for anywhere from a month to 5 or 6 years and only now realizing. We are still not wholly ready to seek a Psychiatrist as because already due to the body's chronic illnesses we have enough patience with doctors spent so we do not need that stress more before getting HRT. After HRT will probably see us on that arduous journey however

[fakescenarios-tohelpyousleep]

False Confidence| Peter Parker (prologue)

Prologue| you’re split and uneven, you’re hands to the sky

summary| who would've thought that the falling apart of the only family Rowan Stark has ever known would lead to her meeting a soulmate of sorts, peter parker

Rowan Stark portrayed by Emma Myers

He has 36 hours. 2,160 minutes to get away before the government starts searching for him. 129,000 seconds he only has to deal with the wrath of Ironman and the team he has created to take Captain America down. "Dad, stop! Think about this before you go and hurt him!" I followed him to his lab. He's just returned from who knows where and is currently on his way to pack to fly to Germany in order to stop his friend Steve... At least, I thought they were friends. I thought Steve and I were friends, however, that thought fizzled the second he left without a goodbye on my end.

Dad wasn't in the mood to deal with me at the moment. His team hadn't followed his orders and now the government is putting pressure on him to stop his old teammate. His patience was running out... It has been for a while now. He's been nothing but patient this past year, but I and Steve combine left it running thin. He knew I saw Steve as almost an uncle, a part of the family that I never really had outside of himself, Happy and Pepper... before Pepper left us both. "Rowan, stop it! I have to do this. It's either I go after him or the government does and I don't think you'd want that, cause I sure as hell don't." "If you get in his way he won't finish what he's trying to do and then the government will go after him, you're helping them!" "If he does this he'll be a public enemy! He already is!" I throw myself in front of him as we reach the lab door, I push myself against it, blocking him from entering. "Rowan Maria Stark! That's enough!" He finally snaps and at my reaction of flinching he sighs, taking a moment before speaking again.. Gathering his thoughts. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I'm trying to get our family back." Tears begin to brim at his wording... our family. He sighs again, placing his hands on my shoulders as he moves me from the doorway of the lab. "I'm coming with you!" I follow him inside and he snaps his head towards me. "No, no you're not." I bet he was remembering the battle of Sokovia, the battle that caused all of this. And I bet he's remembering the absolute living hell we've lived through during the aftermath. "You're both wrong, you know?" I change the subject, because I'm not fighting over going to Germany. I am going, but he needs to know I am not with him nor against him. "You both make good points, but no one will ever win if you battle each other." He shook his head, looking down. Not wanting to see the all too familiar sight of his daughter crying. "I've tried to reason, but he betrayed us the second he signed." "Maybe he's so stubborn because Bucky isn't the man you're looking for!" "Get ready... we have a trip to Germany to take care of."

_

Something was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty. Steve stood alone, but I knew he wasn't that stupid. He was waiting. Dad spoke and Steve kept looking at me, not him. He looked betrayed, I was standing in front of him and not beside him. But I couldn't stand beside him... for mupltity reasons. Standing besides him meant betraying my father... the only blood family I've ever had and standing beside him also meant being on the same team as a man who I could never forgive for as long as I kept breathing. "Okay, I've run out of patience." Dad rolled his eyes bringing his hands up to his mouth. "Underoos!" He called and out of nowhere behind Steve, a person came flying over all of our heads shooting webs, stealing Cap's shelf and tying his hands together in the process. It landed upon a structure behind us. I recognized the thing almost immediately. Spiderman. A new superhero from Queens. More specifically, a friendly neighborhood superhero from Queens. Only now, he's wearing a real suit, a suite that I notice right away. A suite I helped make. "Nice job, kid." Dad congratulated him almost coldly and for the first time, I heard his voice. "Thanks, well, I could've stuck the landing a little better, it's just a new suit. Well, it's nothing Mr. Stark it's perfect, thank you." He rambled, from his voice I could tell he was a teenager. "We really don't have to start a conversation." He spoke to him and glanced at me. He could see the anger in my face. He secretly had me help make a suite for a new hero that would fight against Steve. Low blow father, real low blow. "This is what the suit was for?" I yell pointing towards the little bugboy that sat behind us. "Cap... Captain big fan." It was like I didn't even yell, he was so starstruck with Steve. "Later kid." Offense washed over my face as he turned back to Steve... he called me kid just as he did with Spiderman. How dare he. "You've kept busy." When Steve spoke he was calm and that pissed dad off even farther. "And you've been a complete idiot! Dragging in Clint and recusing Wanda!" I flinch, nailing digging into my palms at the mention of his name. "I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart-" He looked over at me, fists clenched, staring down at my shoes in an attempt to hold it together in front of everyone including King T'Challa and the random bug-teen from Queens. "You did that when you signed." Steve replied just as dad had earlier. "All right, I'm done!" Dad has snapped once again, no more playing nice. "You're gonna burn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us now because it's us or a squad of JSOC guys with no compunction about being impolite." He wasn't asking anymore, he was demanding. Steve stopped, thinking. "Come on." I heard dad whisper. "Please Steve." I mumble to myself. Suddenly I felt the air change... the fight was about to begin. My eyes snap to the north runaway and almost as if I suddenly possessed Spiderman's senses, I knew the Quinjets were in there and Steve was about to make a run for it. "Steve, no!" I screamed but it was too late. An arrow came flying through the air and cut the webs from Steve's hands. Suddenly Spiderman flew off the structure and another man in a metal suit was suddenly standing next to Cap with his shield. "Barnes is mine!" I hear T'Challa yell. T'Challa wants Bucky dead, I can't let that happen, not to Steve. I bolted in the direction T'Challa was running in. "Mr. Stark, what do I do?" His voice ran through the earpiece father gave me before arriving at the airport. "What we discussed, keep your distance and web them up." Dad spoke in a rush. "Rowan, get out of here now!" I wasn't listening though. "Spiderboy, don't listen to him. They'll kill you just get away." His and Dad's voice came blasting into my ear but I couldn't hear them, I chose not to.

Cap threw his shield hitting T'Challa in the back, who then fell and rolled back to his feet... only to be thrown again by Captain one more time. "Move captain, I won't ask a second time." Steve was about to strike again. T'Challa jumped about to kick Steve but he didn't get the chance because a fireball, which I created with my own two hands, threw Steve off his feet and let T'Challa land on his feet. I came from the darkness and he looked at me. "Go, Rogers is mine." It's a blank statement, but it's all it takes for T'challa to stand and run off towards his target. I look over, and Steve is jumping back to his feet. It was him vs I. "What do you think you're doing?" He threw his shield at me, but I teleported behind him before it could hit. I jumped on his back, pinning him to the ground after wrestling him. "I'm being the bigger person between a 100-year-old man and my own father!" I hear glass break and I look up to the terminal and Spiderman is crawling inside to face off against Barnes and Sam... this can't end well.

I abandon Steve as I teleport inside, pressing my back against a pole until Spiderman comes flying by along with Falcon. I run and throw fire, meaning to burn the web connecting him to Sam but I miss and hit the boy's hand instead. He yells out in pain, falling onto the floor. I gasp, running over, kneeling by his side. I look up and see Sam standing beside a glass railing, he is chuckling as Bucky joins his side. "Thanks, Stark." I give both of them a stare of death before they go flying backwards both crashing through the railing landing on the floor below us. "What the hell was that for?!" Spiderman finally spoke, his voice high pitched because of the pain. "Sorry I was trying to keep you from getting killed!" I looked down at his hand, the suit was scorched. "Note to self, make the next one fireproof."

At that moment Peter was in so much pain due to the fire that she threw at him, however he could only think one thing. Rowan Stark was the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She had long dark brown hair, much like her father. It was so long that Peter didn't know if she ever even cut it. The hair had strips of unnatural red running through it. Her eyes were one of the only things that set her apart from her father, as his eyes were brown and hers were blue with some hints of green. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days, little did he know that time frame was probably weeks. Finally he took notice of her arms, they looked as if she stuck her arms in ashes and only wiped some of it off, her arms were black in spots and he didn't think it was semi permanent.

"Listen to me, if you're going to be stupid and try to face off with Cap. Do one thing." He nods, snapping out of whatever state he was in. "Go for his legs." I state before teleporting back outside. "Over there!" I hear a voice and soon spot Cap and his ragtag team rushing in a single direction. The quinjet, and in the moment I teleport to his side and run with him. His arm slams in front of me as a laser bursts in front of us, creating a line... Vision and in seconds Dad and his team were standing opposite of us... I was against him at this moment. I steady my feet again as Steve's arm stopped me from getting blasted. I look to my side, at Steve and he's looking at me. He feels forgien, not like the man that was practically an uncle these past few years. I hold onto him tightly, as I feel him and the memory of who he was slip away. "I'm here with you." I hear him say and for a second, I think I'm going to fight with him, then I look to my other side. Standing in all black was him. Clint Barton. Hawkeye. The reason he was dead. The reason I have no one. The reason I am who I am today and not in a goodway. "Steve, I can't." Tears come again as I nearly buckle under the wait of grief, but Steve is there to hold me, like he always is. "Y/N-" I shake my head as he tries to reason. "I can't be on the same side as him, I can't." I drop to my knees, I choose this move as I press my forehead into the ground below me. I'm out of this fight. "Leave her." I hear dad's voice and I am suddenly left out. "What do we do now?" I hear someone say. "We fight." And my fists clench once more, hands heating up as I feel Steve's team run pass me, and I let them.

"Hey- ouch- Hey!" I don't know how much time has passed or how long I've been kneeling on the ground, however for the first time in that long time I hear something. A voice. Spider Man's voice. I finally come up and spot him across the airport, on the ground, unmasked. No one else is to be seen as I look around. "Hey! Come here!" Without a second thought I stand and move towards him, joining him on the ground. "Mr. Stark told me to wait here, I figured I'd have some company." I just nod, not having the energy to ask or hear where my father and the others were. "I'm Peter, by the way, Peter Parker." "Rowan, Rowan Stark." I flinch at the feeling of his suited hand grabbing my burned one. "It's all going to be okay."