#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. 

-

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[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.

[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.

[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.”

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[fewwawifwiends]

and they were roommates!!! part 2

this is part two of what has been my favourite thing to write to date

for those that followed this from part one, thank you for your patience, i hope this doesn't let you down.

for those reading this for the first time, getting to part one first might be a good idea, this is a heavily plot based smut fic (words i thought i'd never say)

warnings: s m u t , (probably) mentions of oueed and alcohol, unprotected sex, another author's note in the end.

oh and in true theo fashion, this has not been proofread, or beta'd

word count: 16,722

“i am going to kill you with my own bare hands.” great start to a family conversation. max heard his sister sigh on the other side of the line. 

“whatever did i ever do this time, dear brother?” 

“you know damn well what you did, you ruined my summer break!” 

“oh get off it, you still have almost three weeks-” 

“whose idea was rowan? yours. and a bad one at that.” 

“what did she do this time?” max could hear victoria giving up, but if he knew his sister at all, she’d defend the girl to her dying breath. this was a losing battle already. 

“she just up and left!” 

“wouldn’t you be happy about that? having your place all to your own, the rest of your break-”

“no vic, you don’t understand.”

“oh you had sex and then she left. okay, so what’s the problem with that? don’t you do that with like, every other girl?” 

“it’s not like that, it-”

“it’s exactly like that, emilian.” the use of his middle name made him cringe. “a girl left you before you could leave her. big deal. get over it.” and she hung up on him. 

the sheer nerve this woman possessed was enough to drive him wild sometimes. he’d kill for his sister, but sometimes he swore he could kill her. 

it wasn’t about rowan leaving after he shared his bed with her -which was pretty sacred, but for the moment a bit beside the point. it was about how she left, like a thief in the night, leaving no trace, no way of contacting her again behind. and sure, that sounds exactly like what he might have done a couple times in the past. but he hadn’t spent a week playing house with those girls, he barely even knew their name. so yes, rowan leaving like that was quite rude. and he took it personally. 

defeated, he took his morning coffee to the living room and sat on the couch. it was a comfortable couch and he’d forgotten how it felt; it had been rowan’s for a bit more than a week. yet another reminder. max cursed and took out his phone, determined to find her. at least know where she went after ditching him. that would only be fair, right? 

he went through his sister’s followers on instagram, a painstaking and headache inducing process, but came up empty; there was no mention of any rowan on all the handles he checked. how could a girl like that not have instagram? unless she didn’t have her name on the handle, but who does that? still, it was somewhat of a lead, so he searched again. and again. and again, he found nothing. it was like the woman was a ghost. 

perhaps it was for the best to think of this as a unique, one time experience, remember it fondly and get on with his life. max really tried to ponder on that thought, internalise it, make it happen. remember rowan as a pleasurable memory. even though pleasurable wasn’t doing justice to the feeling of her soft lips around his cock. fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it. absentmindedly he gave his cock a couple familiar tugs before shaking his head. remembering her wouldn’t work. he needed to forget. 

he took a cold shower and went for a run, realising after the fact that the order of those tasks should’ve been in reverse. still, he was home alone. he could sit in his filth for a few minutes before taking yet another shower. and despite that annoyance, his headache of where rowan was was still lingering, without any signs of subsiding. 

she probably went home, but where was even that? her accent didn’t give anything away, and all their conversations were in english, so she wasn’t dutch. but she wasn’t british either, she didn’t speak in an accent he recognised. but rowan is an english name. 

and how did she get enough money to afford a last minute plane ticket to literally anywhere? oh god, what if she hitchhiked her way out of the country? it was a dangerous idea, as dangerous as it was free and rowan was more than capable of thinking it would work out just fine. if she wanted out so bad, at the very least she could’ve asked for a ride. stubborn woman. 

she was a mystery, a ghost and a constant migraine, from the moment she walked into his life. she’d turned everything upside down and now he couldn’t even find her to… why would he need to find her anyway? give her a piece of his mind, give her front row seats to how irresponsibly she’d acted, how worried he was? as cathartic as that sounded, it wasn’t excuse enough. part of him wanted to fuck her again, he wasn’t nearly done doing everything he wanted to do to her. but it wasn’t a good idea to focus on that for the time being. 

what was a better idea would be to ask victoria for help, at least rowan’s number or if she knew where she was. maybe he’d even settle with assurance that she was okay. was he really prepared to have his sister mock him for the rest of their lives over that? was that itch in his chest, the need to know worth it? the thought didn’t ponder in his head for long, as his fingers were already finding his sister’s contact in his phone and tapped on the call button. 

“can you give me her number?” pleasantries were something he just couldn’t be bothered with at the moment. 

“hi yourself. and wait. rowan didn’t give you her number? not even once?” 

“slim chance i’d need it twice, wouldn’t it be?” 

“fine be an asshole about it. and the answer is no. and before you get ahead of yourself, it’s not because i’m holding a grudge, which i should. it’s because if she didn’t give you her number, she didn’t want you to have it.”

“maybe the thought didn’t occur to her and now she can’t reach me if she wants to.” 

“can’t see why she’d want to.” he could see vic just staring at her nails, indifferent, pretending to be oblivious in an attempt to bruise his ego. it would have worked if matters weren’t so pressing, so a tired sigh was the only response he gave. “okay, fine, you know what? if she calls asking for your number, i’ll give it to her. sound good?” 

“but what if she doesn’t?” 

“then you’ll just have to live with that.” 

“vic, come on. i need to hear she’s okay. i don’t know what you think you know, but it’s more complicated than that.” 

“is it now?” she chuckled. let the mocking begin. 

“just… please.”

“no. getting the two of you together was a mistake, i thought i was doing an old friend a favour and hoped you’d get a kick out of it as well. but i can’t take your whining -which apparently hasn’t stopped even now that she’s gone- and god knows i won’t be able to take rowan’s as well if i give you her number. i’m sorry max, i’m not budging on that one.” 

“now who’s being an asshole? and i’ll forgive you for letting her into my house without my consent if you give me her number. consider your sins absolved.” 

“are you seriously blackmailing me?” 

“pretty much, yeah.” 

“and i’m the asshole?!” 

“pretty much, yeah.” 

at this point max was running out of options and he was almost certain his pacing would leave a mark on the hardwood floor. besides, a little blackmail among siblings never hurt anyone. once again though, vic hung up on him. exasperated, he tossed his phone on the couch, relived to hear it hit against the pillows and not the floor by accident. 

he hopped in the shower for the second and probably not final time that day and his mind was racing through so many things at once that not even the cold water could bring to a halt. flashing memories of the last night the spent together blended with laughs shared over meals, rowan flashing him a smile as she cooked, or when he got home and found her on the couch reading a book with sassy curled next to her. 

and all that was mixed with questions answered by theories that bore even more questions, mental images of where rowan might have grown up, how she ended up stranded in monaco of all places, who her friends were, how she stayed in touch with vic without max ever hearing her name mentioned once, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. regrettably for him, his sister was the only person that could even begin to answer any of those questions. 

“if you’ve called to beg again, i’m hanging up right now.”

seems that it was victoria’s turn to skip the pleasantries and max chuckled as he ran a towel through his hair, trying to get most of the moisture out. 

“no dear sister. even though you do love to hear me beg.”

“true. continue.” her gracious highness granted him permission. 

“if i can’t talk to rowan about it, i figured i’d ask you.”  he started but was quickly cut off. 

“please spare me the details.” 

“it’s not about that, you idiot. i just want to know more about her.”

“suppose that can’t hurt.” 

finally, a win, no matter how small. 

“she mentioned we went karting together when we were kids. how did you stay friends without my knowing?” 

“social media is a wonderful thing. we grew apart but then i found her on social and we started talking again.” 

“how well would you say you know her?”

“well enough to let her into your home, max.” patience was running thin on victoria’s end and it was max’s cue to start with the more important questions. 

“how did she end up in monaco with no place to go and no way out?” 

“that’s not my story to tell, max. but i assure you there’s a very good reason behind it, and you did more good than you could possibly imagine.”

“so you know she’s fine?” 

“jesus, of course i know she’s okay, what kind of person do you take me for?” 

“okay, good. that’s good.” 

“are we going to continue playing twenty questions?”

“one last question. how are your little devils?” 

“growing and a pain in the ass. they miss their uncle.” her voice softened at max’s concern. not that it was a rare occurrence, but given the circumstances, she didn’t think that there would be much room for anything else than what seemed to be his current obsession. 

“i’ll be home to see them as soon as i can. i miss them too. i miss you. how are you holding up?” 

“by a thread.” she chuckled. “not but really, mom and tom have been my lifesavers, i couldn’t do it all without them.” 

“ouch.” 

“you know what i mean, max. you can’t watch the kids while i’m having back to back meetings or when i just need a glass of wine.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. it’s nice to feel useful though.”

“you’re loved, smart and important. but i have to go, lukas is trying to climb my leg like a tree.”

“mildly concerning. off you go, remind your son he’s a boy, not a monkey.” 

“love ya.” the words were rushed and max barely had any time to say them back before he heard the sound to indicate that the call was over. 

so she was okay, so the important bit was out of the way. and she was on social media, and his sister’s social media at that. perhaps he hadn’t looked hard enough. maybe going through the likes on vic’s posts would do it? a shot in the dark, but again, better than nothing. 

cross-referencing handles on the likes with the ones that stood out on victoria’s followers list turned out to be more fruitful than aimlessly scrolling and trying to determine if what he was seeing seemed like rowan. or at least the version of rowan he’d come to know, and he was so consumed by his moderate success and the feeling of getting closer and closer that once again, he didn’t stop to think anything other than his goal, repercussions be damned. 

had he taken a minute or two to think this over, there was a chance he could have realised that maybe rowan didn’t want to be found, especially by him and the reasons were hers and hers alone. maybe he could have seen that at the end of the day, there was nothing to really bind them except for a… unique week. like that kid you meet while on vacation, have fun with them and then never see them again, but in a moderately more adult version. and there would be nothing wrong with that. except he didn’t take a minute, there was no way for any of those thoughts to cross his mind, when finding her took up all the space in his brain. maybe it was a bruise to his ego, being left like that before even the morning after, that he needed to correct. maybe it was that raw connection drawing him back to her, pulling him like a magnet to wherever she may be. it could be so many things, and he didn’t care about any of them. the reason why didn’t matter; only the result. 

finally having found an account that might have been rowan’s, max tapped on the blue request to follow button and hoped for the best. the account was private and there was no mention of her name nor was a face visible in the small avatar. It was an educated guess at best, and it could go both ways. maybe he’d have spent all that time on the wrong person. worse yet, he’d found her and she wouldn’t grant him access to the profile, deleting his request. it wasn’t a risk he was comfortable with, but it was one he had to take anyway. from where he stood, he saw no other option. 

mental exhaustion was creeping in, as was a migraine that he’d somehow been holding back all this time. max locked the phone and with a flick of his wrist threw it to the side, deciding that he’d had enough screen time for the day. he thought of calling a friend, go out for a drink -or five- but ultimately, did nothing. a quiet night in would be best, to enjoy the silence and serenity his home used to offer up until the week before. he’d crack a beer, watch the sunset, annoy his cats; all things he used to do to unwind. 

max did just that, and mechanically walked over to the fridge, grabbed a can and went outside, pausing only to pick up jimmy so he could annoy him with a view. and for a while, everything was back to normal, it felt like there was a way back after all. until he started to really relax though and let his mind wander as the sun sank into the ocean, coating it a warm orange and pink. the first stars were barely just twinkling when max noticed the rails on his balcony and his mind rushed to remind him how he would have loved the opportunity to take rowan right there. the light would look amazing on her skin, and now that he knew exactly how she felt, underneath his fingertips and around his cock, it was much harder to snap out of it, so he didn’t; he allowed the fantasy to play out in a hazy daydream as his hand automatically reached under his pants. as that daydream came to a climax, so did max, and the only thing he could make up his mind about was that he probably wouldn’t bother with washing those pants but throw them away entirely. 

the aftermath of his orgasm had him in a trance and found himself naked in his bed, certain that he could still smell a bit of her on the pillowcase before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. but even so, he knew that there was no escaping her. 

the next morning, morning number two without rowan, max fumbled on his nightstand to find his phone, with sleep still in his eyes and no luck on the first task of the day. as the gears turned in his brain, he realised that not only he’d left his phone in the living room, but he also probably slept through his alarms and without getting up there was no way of telling the time, completely forgetting about the watch he always wore on his right wrist. 

heavy movement got him to the living room and as the brightness on his phone made him squint, he made out that among his usual gazillion notifications, there was one that stood out: the account he played sherlock holmes for the day before had approved of his follow request. suddenly wide awake without a single drop of caffeine in his bloodstream, max opened the notification and the person’s profile, eager to see rowan’s face again. except he didn’t. the profile was one of a perfect stranger, so the whole endeavour had proven a complete bust. 

defeated and tired he started going about his usual morning routine, topped with a giant homemade iced coffee as a treat. just as he was about to settle down, his phone rang and max’s initial excitement wore off when he saw the caller id. it was just his trainer, calling to remind him that they’d see each other again toward the end of the summer break, wishing him to enjoy the rest of his vacation and making some god awful small talk. to his own surprise, max survived the call without jumping off his balcony, and tried his best to finally relax. 

and that was a plan that worked for him for roughly two minutes, until his phone rang again and he answered using the reflexes bradley had worked hard to help him achieve, not bothering to hide his annoyance at the first ‘hello’.

“is that how you greet an old friend?” he heard rowan’s voice from the other end of the call. it would suffice to say he was left speechless, not really knowing how to respond. “heard you were looking for me.” she stated after the silence got a bit too awkward. 

“yeah…” he stammered a reply. 

“what for?”

“i was worried, you just left like that and i-”

“i’m fine, max.” she’d never called him by his first name. not when they were just talking, anyway. 

“you don’t sound fine.” 

“well, i am. would that be all?” 

why was she so eager to hang up on him? she was the one who called him to begin with. if she wanted nothing to do with him, all she had to do was ignore him, and victoria, who without a doubt was the one that gave her his number. 

“i wanted to talk. are you still in monaco?” 

“no, i left yesterday.” 

“great, i’ll book you a flight. where are you?” 

“i don’t see how that’s necessary.”

“or i could come to you, i am on my break after all.” 

“oh so nothing better to do, let’s booty call rowan via proxy?” 

“you know that that’s not what this is about.”

“do i?” she raised her voice, shocked by his audacity. she only existed for him when he wanted an easy fuck. and that was okay for the first time around, but going to such lengths for a second time was excessive if not weird. 

“well, you would if you knew the first thing about me. i wanted to see if you’re okay and talk about how we left things.”

“i’m fine and there’s nothing to talk about. we said it was a one time thing and i got out of your way as soon as i could, as planned. now if i’ve answered all your questions-”

“don’t you dare hang up on me, rowan.” voice was stern, words conveyed an order, not a request nor urgency. 

“or what, you’ll lock me in my room?” 

“i haven’t forgotten about your breaking and entering and i have a very good lawyer.”

“oh shiver me timbers!” she tried to be sarcastic, she really did. and she might have succeeded, if it wasn’t for the smile max could hear in her words. rowan wasn’t keen on testing whether max was being serious or not; she knew he wasn’t, and now he knew she knew. this entire thing was giving her a headache, one she hadn’t missed from her days staying with him. 

“look, i’m really grateful for letting me stay with you. i know it wasn’t ideal for you…” she tried to tiptoe around… everything. especially the last night she was there. “and like i said, i never wanted to be a bother. so as soon as i got the chance, i left you be. doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate all you did for me.” and by god, he’d done so much more than he could ever understand. he probably didn’t even mean to, or even want to, but he’d done so much and while it was all good, unbeknownst to him, what he did or didn’t do carried so many repercussions. 

“you could’ve at least said goodbye, stayed over for coffee.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” and she genuinely was. for so many things she couldn’t even begin to talk about. 

max believed her. she was sorry. but that’s not what he wanted to talk to her about, an apology barely even made the list. 

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“jesus verstappen, yes, i’m fine!” she chuckled, taken aback by his persistent concern. 

“and you do know that you’re welcome here whenever you want, right? of course, you know where the spare key is and everything.” 

“that’s very kind of you.” that was all she had to say. that was all she could say. there was no way to talk about how her mind was flooded with memories of how she got into his house in the first place, finding the spare key and letting herself in, exploring the house, getting to know max’s cats and making herself at home. only this time, along with a tang of nostalgia, those memories were altered; she could see herself letting herself in again, but this time around max would be there to greet her with a warm hug, jimmy and sassy would instantly tangle themselves between her legs, and maybe she’d fall, but max would catch her. she’d played house for too long. but though she tried, there was no shaking those thoughts away. 

“so you still won’t come?” only when he spoke did rowan realise how long the silence was. 

“don’t you have better friends to spend your vacation with?” 

“of course i do. but i want to spend it with you.” there was a a deliberate pause between his sentences. it was a sweet sentiment. such a shame rowan didn’t buy it. all she heard was that he wanted easy access to a good fuck for the rest of the month. 

“i thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” she tried to remain civil. 

“oh just get your ass over here. even for just two hours. one coffee. or drink. or dinner. anything.”

“verstappen, are you asking me out?” 

“you wish.” he scoffed, a little too quick to dismiss her. “can i be completely honest?”

“no. lie to me.” 

“i don’t want you to come, i don’t ever want to talk to you again, i’m not even in the tiniest bit worried about how the fuck you got out of monaco. and of course i haven’t spent the past two days trying not to think about you.” those would have been the hardest lies max would have ever told, save for the smile lacing his words. “so no, i don’t want to see you. i dread the thought of having this conversation in person.”

rowan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. it was obvious he didn’t mean any of that. so why did a part of her wish he did? why would she think it would be easier if it were true? there was resentment in her heart, for fluttering even just a little when she heard him speak. 

“okay, i’m hanging up now, good talking to you verstappen.”

“what did i tell you about hanging up on me?” there he was again, using his serious voice, leaving rowan just holding the phone, motionless and staring at the wall. how did he manage to have such a hold on her? wasn’t she better than that already? apparently not. or at least not as much as she’d like to think. “still there, aren’t you?” she could hear his smirk and it was infuriating. 

“yes.” she replied through gritted teeth. 

“good. if you’re not coming to me, let me come to you. where are you?”

“home.”

“and where would that be, princess?” god, she could kill him for that condescending tone in a heartbeat. 

“you are not coming here.”

“try me. text me the address.” and he hung up on her. fuck max verstappen.  

but in a twisted turn of her brain wirings, rowan did text him the address, curious to see if he’d keep his word; conflicted on whether she wanted him to keep it or not. 

the next few of hours had been a blur for max, from packing a small suitcase -just in case- to making arrangements for his jet to be wheels up asap, everything had felt a little like a fever dream, not quite there but still hanging tight on reality. 

rowan on the other hand was enjoying a glass of chilled white wine at the comfort of her home, devouring a random -and probably not so good- book she picked at the airport. she couldn’t care less about the plot. getting even tipsy while also actively trying not to think about max was an achievable goal for the evening. it’s not like he’d be knocking on her front door, why would he do that? it was an exchange, he have her his couch and she gave him home-cooked meals, she let him have some of her pot and he gave her three orgasms. tit for tat, end of exchange and conversation. 

sure, she left in a rush, but she did apologise for that. and that’s the reason she got his number from victoria in the first place. and when vic texted her to let her know that max was looking for her, she put on a brave face and went about it as maturely as she possibly could. she did wonder for a minute or two if it was enough, but dismissed the thought entirely. she did get the apology out of the way and it was sincere. that was all that mattered, and it gave her closure. it felt good, to actually get some of that, closure. it was a new feeling, but damn it was finally right. a chapter closed. said and done. so why did the protagonist in her book look like him when she pictured him?

rowan did try to rationalise it, she really did. he’s the last man you actually saw, it’s only natural he’s the first person to pop in your head when reading about a blonde guy with blue eyes. he was practically the only person she saw for a week, that’s how she’d made any sense out of it, entirely forgetting his friends at the club and having the stranger she’d been dancing with that night completely erased from her memory. 

if she had to be honest with herself, her attempt at actively not thinking about max was not going so well. but she didn’t have to be honest with herself, so only a small effort was wasted on silencing that voice in her head and trying to focus back on her book. her concentration did not break, even with the distinct sound of the intercom in her apartment buzzing. 

mechanically, she walked over to the device on the wall next to her door and pushed on the small button, eyes still glued on the page she was on. it was probably the ubereats she forgot she ordered. except it wasn’t, and as she stood by the open door, leaning on the frame with the book in her hands, she looked up to greet the delivery guy. instead of a cholesterol induced heart attack in a bag however, what stood before her was max, in the flesh. 

“what the fuck are you doing here?” she managed to say after staring at him for a couple of seconds at a complete loss. 

“you did text me your address.”

“and here you are.”

“obviously.” 

“why.” not a question, a statement. 

“jesus christ, i told you! i wanted to see you, talk to you. in person.” 

rowan let him in and took her seat on the stool of the kitchen island, leaving the book and taking a hold and a brave swing of her wine. max was following suit, albeit a little confused at the girl’s reaction. for him it was so straightforward and obvious that he’d be there, like they’d made plans for coffee. 

“okay, talk.” 

“how did you leave?” 

“booked a flight.”

“thought you were broke.”

“someone in my family finally came through.” 

“why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“is this a conversation or twenty questions?” 

“it is whatever you want it to be. so, why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“i want this to be over.” 

max’s face fell. rowan was serious; her tone had not changed from the moment he stepped through the door, emotionless. maybe she meant the conversation. maybe she meant whatever they had. either way, max was not prepared for such an answer. against all evidence, he was sure that rowan wouldn’t be that person, she wouldn’t be the one to be so harsh and borderline rude. but here they were, staring at each other without saying a word. 

“if you didn’t want me here why did you tell me where you were? hell, why did you call?” 

both perfectly valid questions that the girl did not have the answer to. impulsive decisions she thought herself wiser than to make. there was no plan to backfire, but that was exactly what it felt like. max put her on the spot and she couldn’t do anything but keep staring back at him. 

the man could go on a rant on how fucked up this was, but it would be pointless. it was evident that he was not wanted there and he started questioning why he went through all that trouble. with a sigh, he gave up after a few moments of trying to find a reason to stay, to excuse this whole charade and convince himself that he was welcome. 

“nevermind, forget i was ever here. or that any of this happened. whatever. have a good one.” he muttered while looking down and turning on his heels to leave. 

in another impulsive decision she was sure to regret, it was rowan’s turn to grab him by the wrist and prevent him from leaving. 

“i’m sorry. i’m going through some stuff.” she had no intention of opening up that can of worms, especially not to max verstappen. he had better things to do than waste his time on her issues and she should be better than to drag him in them.  perhaps it might have been for the best to let things end like that, plain badly, two people with enough resentment for each other to help them move on faster than the speed of light. but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. she was not this person and he deserved better. 

“hope it gets better for you soon.” he freed himself from her grip and continued to make his way to the door, not bothering to look at her. his patience was running thin and from nothing, this had become something and that something was no laughing matter. his temper was getting the best of him, casting a shadow over rowan’s poor attempt at an excuse. 

with a loud thud the door closed behind him and max was out of the door and her life, exactly like she walked out of his. 

a couple days went by with radio silence. max was almost content with the idea that his life would continue to be exactly as he expected it before it got turned upside down and inside out by a virtual stranger.  in this endeavour, in the midst of his summer break when he didn’t have intense training and strategy sessions to drain all his energy, or the adrenaline of a grand prix weekend, but instead he had all the free time in the world, he took up a new hobby to fill his time. sat in his balcony, overseeing the sea as the sun painted everything in pink and orange hues, he had a thick and well recommended fantasy book in one hand and a tall glass of iced tea in the other to combat the heat. 

all seemed well for him, a good 80 pages into the story that had him immersed enough to almost not notice the unexpected buzz of his phone. the screen lit up with a notification, a text from rowan and all his peace and quiet fell apart in nanoseconds. 

puzzled and curious, he opened it only to find himself even more puzzled and curious. it was a selfie, and she was in an uncharacteristically seductive pose; it was a mirror selfie, in what max could only presume was her bedroom, and there would be nothing weird about that. in the background he could see some minimalistic decorations on the wall and a plant that was close to dying hanging from the ceiling. 

so, nothing out of the ordinary, save of course for the black satin nightdress that hung just below her hips, with thin lace straps and lining on the bust to bring just enough attention to her neck, shoulders and chest without revealing too much. and again, that may have been okay, but it wasn’t just that. she was staring at her reflection on the phone with an intense gaze and she had a nail in between her teeth, lips parted just enough. it wasn’t her bare legs, the thought of the satin fabric in between their bodies or even the tasteful hints at her body that made his cock twitch; it was her face and her eyes. it was those lips that he now knew damn well what they felt like. 

he thought of replying with words -the debate of whether he would reply or not never even took place in his head-, but it felt strangely inadequate. he needed to pay back with the same coin, it was a matter of principle. in autopilot, his body dragged him to his own bedroom, where he took a similar photo. there was a small debate however, on whether it would be a serious one, him trying to do his thing, or if he’d full on imitate rowan’s pose. he thought of the latter to be the safest option, so there he was, in front of the very same mirror he was intent of having her see their reflection of their bodies colliding, fucking hard and fast, standing with only his grey athletic shorts, one finger hanging from his mouth, eyes fixed on the image on his screen. and send. 

‘you’re not not malena.’ came her reply as fast as her fingers could type.

‘how perceptive of you’ 

‘this was not intended for you’ 

‘oh yeah? and who’s it for?’ obviously it was not for him. it would be stupid of him to think that after everything, she’d reach out again. perhaps it was even more stupid of him to engage. but he couldn’t resist. and the thought that she’d be sending those kind of photos to anyone else made his blood boil. he didn’t have any right to feel that way but that changed nothing. another stupid thing of him. 

‘none of your business’ 

and she could’ve left it there. she sent the message and there were no more dots on the screen on either end. max was still staring at his phone though, and even though he didn’t know it, so was rowan. she fucked up. so damn much, it was almost incomprehensible. she’d left max with no explanation once before, he didn’t deserve for this to happen again. 

‘it was for my best friend. her contact is usually the only one staring from m on my phone’  it was the truth. but would it be enough? would he leave it be? how much of an even bigger mess could she create? 

‘and you send those kind of pics to all your best friends?’ a fair question, which demanded more explanation. rowan didn’t know whether to bite on her nails even harder to ease the anxiety or feel entirely exasperated. max was not just any man who would be satisfied with breadcrumbs. she knew better than that, appreciated and respected that. but at that point, it was not working to her advantage. 

‘she needed some inspiration, spice things up with her boyfriend’ she yielded and told the truth again, no evasiveness. 

‘you’re a good friend’ rowan chuckled bitterly at his response. 

‘i try my best’

‘am i your friend?’  he couldn’t resist. apparently his self control had gone out the window for anything that concerned rowan and this was a new and wild feeling in his chest, like a fire that he didn’t have the means to put out, and it never really went away; it just felt a little bit more at home sometimes. 

‘no. we’re not friends, max.

and i think it would be better if you lost my number.’ 

‘we both know i’m not going to do that’ 

‘and what do you intend to do?’ 

‘come over again and remind you why that would be a bad idea.’  which was a colossally bad idea in its own accord. the only justification max could give to why it sounded like a sound solution to the problem building inside of him was how hard she made him. he was thinking with his dick and there wasn’t much he could do to help it. 

‘you’re talking big, verstappen’  

‘don’t make me show you big’

‘go ahead, see if i’m phased’  

max was not the person to send dick pics. he’d never done it and he could never see himself do something like that. that said, just a a close up of his crotch, the outline of his hardness clearly visible with his thumb tucked underneath and pushing the hem of his pants down ever so slightly was not  a dick pic. one might even consider it tasteful. 

rowan’s eyes were glued to the screen, unable to look away. he had some nerve, pushing boundaries like that. she did bring this on herself, although the blame game was not something she could focus on when her mouth was hanging agape and borderline salivating. so yeah, she was phased, and that much was evident from the radio silence that lasted a minute or two, which rowan spent looking at the photo. 

‘not phased, huh?’ 

cocky son of a bitch. 

‘so what you mean to tell me is that this didn’t remind you how it felt inside you

how it felt when i was fucking you

while you were touching yourself

cumming all over me’

rowan fell back on the bed, trying to find some soothing and cooling comfort in her white sheets with little success. even if her eyes weren’t running over the screen again and again, the words were etched in her mind, along with the memories they brought up to the surface. she remembered damn well how it felt, have him keep her eyes on them as he was pounding into her and her own hand was shamelessly rubbing her wet folds. 

as if in a trance, the memory started blending with the present as her hand started reaching downwards, ready to recreate at least some of the sensations. before she could get below her belly, a ding from her phone brought her back to reality and she physically shook her head to try and get rid of the urges that had overcome her, thankful for the distraction. until she opened the notification. 

‘still want me to lose your number, baby?’ fuck, the hold he had on her was out of this world. did he know what that word did to her? but this was not a good time to give in. so she decided to give up. 

‘you’re a big boy, verstappen

do whatever you want’ 

‘what i want

requires consent’ he was not letting go, making this so much harder for rowan. 

‘why can’t you let go?’

‘because you won’t let me’ he thought of whether he should elaborate on that or not. maybe it would feel better, that raging feeling, if he did. 

‘because you just walked into my life

gave me an amazing week 

and just fucking left, rowan. 

without a single explanation or a god damn goodbye

and as much as i hate this, you have me hooked.’ 

‘because i left and bruised your precious ego?

you’re such a man.’ this was actually doing her so much good, it was slowly letting her get out of his hold, tearing down all the pedestals her little mind was too busy putting him on. 

‘because you made me feel something and then you left.’

‘yeah, made you feel how good it is to have your cock sucked.’ 

‘phenomenal’ he had to admit. ‘but beside the point

the point is that i thought we made a good team

label that however you want.’

it was surreal, how they were having that conversation over texts. max had never had a serious discussion over text, he’d barely had one over the phone. the timing was as bad as any other moment. he may have let rowan push him out twice, but he wouldn’t let her get away from it this time; not without telling how he saw things. 

rowan on the other hand was speechless yet again. the nerve, the audacity, the way he just went out and bared himself- it almost made her jealous. 

‘you don’t want me on your team, verstappen’

‘it’s fine, i can fuck anything that’s bothering you out of your system ‘

‘is this all about sex to you?’

‘with you, it’s an added bonus

so is that a yes?’ 

he’d made up his mind. she didn’t want him involved in her drama and that was more than fine with him; there was not a single cell in his body that wanted to be involved anyway. what he did want was to be close to her, and to his own surprise, he’d been honest: it was not all about sex, but it was a great bonus. what it was mainly about was to get that feeling back, when they could be in the same room without talking and still feeling comfortable, when their endless banter was equally infuriating and entertaining, when he was with someone he didn’t have to explain himself to because they just get him. when his house felt like home, even for just a few days. 

rowan had never felt more confused about such a straightforward statement. actually, confusion wasn’t the primary emotion; first, she was conflicted. whatever max could mean exactly, it wouldn’t matter one bit if it was the worst idea in any plane of existence. she tried to imagine how having anyone new in her life at the moment would play out and it all ended in blood, sweat and tears. she was not in any place to bring someone else into her shit, it would be selfish and irresponsible of her. but what if max didn’t have to be involved? not directly, anyway. suddenly, it felt like his proposal made sense. 

‘even if i were to say yes

which im not

what would i be saying yes to?’

‘you clearly need a distraction

so do i

i don’t know what’s going on with you

you have no idea what’s going on with me

we just enjoy each other’s company whenever we feel like it.’ 

‘and that involves sex.’

‘would you get your mind out of the fucking gutter?’ 

‘maybe you can fuck that out of me as well ’

‘can’t believe i’m saying this

rowan please focus.

are we a team?’ 

she didn’t reply straight away. she wanted to get this over with, rip the bandaid. tell him that this would never work, that it was inevitable things would get complicated, one way or the other. but she couldn’t bring herself to say, or even type the words. so she waited until it would feel easier to do. 

hours passed and day gave in to night, and rowan had still not touched her phone, entirely out of fear that she’d say the wrong thing, whatever that was. she got ready for bed early for her standards, but the heat along with the emotional toll she bore was getting too much. once her head hit the pillow, her mind started drifting and scrambled thoughts came down to one: max. she decided that visualising their texts like a face to face conversation would help her make up her mind, see how that would never work and finally put things to rest with a simple no. one word, two letters. 

at first, she imagined him alone in his room, in his bed, like she’d been, and as the conversation progressed, her mind inserted more details. she could see first hand every eye roll, every exasperated sigh, every grimace at her replies, every single time he held his breath as she typed. before long, her physical presence was inserted to the scene, and it was as if max couldn’t see her at first, still hooked on his phone. he was typing away furiously, and rowan wandered at which part. he was typing a lot… and then it was as if she could hear his thoughts that got transcribed without much alteration.

“how it felt when i was fucking you, while you were touching yourself, cumming all over me”

rowan heard herself audibly sigh as she heard those words fall from his lips. it was one thing to read them, and entirely different to hear him say them, even in her mind. that was what seemed to get max to realise that rowan was sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, one knee bent on the mattress, body turned to face him. and that seemed to help him notice that she was there, in the actual room with him. 

“still want me to lose your number, baby?” a cocky smirk laced his lips as he looked at her with eyes that were way too sure of the answer for rowan’s comfort. in her mind at least, max knew exactly how weak that word made her and she hated him for it. in fact, she hated him enough to attack him in the only way she knew how: by kissing him feverishly, quickly straddling him and breaking contact only to remove her nightgown. 

what followed was an exact replica of their last night together, every touch, word, sound replayed in her mind and all she could do was ride along, try to satiate the hunger with her fingers. soon -sooner than usual- it was over and instead of a clearer head, as she expected, she was left with an empty feeling in her core and one word tumbling out of her mouth. 

‘yes’ she typed out and tapped on send, turning her phone off right after, ensuring a very sleepless night ahead. 

max received the text hours later from his last message to rowan. specifically, it was almost 4 am and he hadn't slept a wink. it's not like he didn't try to sleep, get his mind off things, but it was as futile an attempt as the ones that came before that.

he tried to avoid thinking about what rowan might be doing or thinking to take this long to respond, if she was going to reply at all. and even in his wildest fantasies, he would have never guessed that the girl spent the better part of those hours fantasising about him, edging herself in denial time and time again before finally giving in and texting him back. after all that had happened, rowan thinking about sex, with him especially, wouldn't cross his mind. perhaps because that was exactly what he'd done, and the chances of her doing the same seemed slim to none. either way, her text had found him sleepless and frustrated in more ways than he cared to count. finally, as his screen lit up in the middle of the night, he was able to close his eyes and rest, curious and excited about the days to come. 

‘does that mean you're coming back?'

'in your dreams, verstappen'

'in my dreams you're already here'

'good, you can savour the feeling then'

'are you ever going to stop acting like a brat?'

'am not.'

'are too'

'im not playing this game'

'okay, what do you want to play?'

'youre unbelievable and im an adult with responsibilities.

surely your spoiled ass wouldn't know how that feels like'

'youre impossible'

and that was it. the bubbles vanished and suddenly his phone lost all the excitement it ever held, feeling just like another tiny and slim brick in his hand.

max decided to go for a run, and in the midst of sweat and trying to control his breathing, his mind wandered. unsurprisingly, to rowan. what was a surprise however was the fact that his thoughts were not occupied with her in a similar situation, skimpily dressed, skin glistening with sweat and shaky breathing. no, this time all he could do was wonder how he ended up in that situation, entangled so deeply and so fast that he'd defied all defence mechanisms he'd worked so hard on building up all those years.

he'd become a master of keeping everyone at bay, showing them only parts of him that made them feel okay and him safe. his friends were few and unknowingly tested over the years, and that's how he liked it. and then came she, barging into his life and having him express his... ugh.. feelings in what, two weeks? that was a level of vulnerability no one had achieved, not even his sister.

what was so special about rowan? or what had broken in him to have them end up like that? it was so fucked up he couldn’t even tell what they ended up like. like friends? lovers? were they in a relationship? that was the only thing that was surely off the table. sure, they’d spent a week together, but he didn’t know anything about her at the end of the day. and he wasn’t one to risk himself and his career with a relationship. what he did know was that he wanted her in his life and the only logic that kicked in was to ensure that it would be in the most no-strings-attached way possible. 

he’d never been this impulsive, always calculated and focused. now he could barely keep his head in taking the route he did every day for his runs and that was a problem in more ways than simply ending up someplace else entirely and winding up a bit lost for half an hour. and that was all on her. even if he didn’t really know who she was or what she was to him, it was her. 

he’d given up on trying to convince himself that it wasn’t about rowan, that it was just about a good fuck and having someone else in the house rather than being alone. but he liked being on his own, he’d never questioned it before. and he could throw a pebble and it would land on a girl who could give him a good fuck. well, admittedly, perhaps not as good. he was ways away from getting her out of his system. he hated to think that, but rowan was… special. he lacked a better word, he hated the word ‘special’. but any other adjective would just not be enough; anything else would only scratch the surface and he was itching to scratch and scratch and scratch until he felt satiated. if one thing made sense in his entire uncharacteristic behaviour was that bottom line, it was all for selfish reasons. it made him feel good and if rowan got something out of it -which he’d make sure she did, because funnily enough, he enjoyed that as well- even better. maybe it wasn’t about her, after all. maybe it was about him. and that bit of rationalisation made sense, enough to make his mid grow a little quieter, even for a while. 

as he headed home and turned the key into the lock of his apartment, the silence was deafening once more, even more so now that his brain wasn’t blasting at full volume thoughts and images trying to make two and two equal five. 

jimmy and sassy were quick to rub on his legs as soon as he took off his shoes, making sure to follow him around as we went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before gathering up enough strength for a full shower. cats still magically not tripping over his feet, he took a short video and sent it to rowan, as if it were totally normal. ‘they miss you’  his text read. 

‘i miss them too ‘ 

‘are you going to do something about it?’

‘are we still talking about the cats?’  she spent a minute or two thinking over the text before sending it. as much as she loved the furry little bastards and did miss them, they were not exactly what she wanted to talk about. 

‘of course we are. kittens love the attention

i think they feel a bit neglected ever since you left

a few seconds passed before his next text, words that begged to be let out. 

do you have anything else in mind that might need my attention?’  

‘hm… i’d have to think about it’  she tried to buy a bit more time, keep herself from making mistake after mistake.

‘i’ll hop in the shower. when i come back, i expect to look at my phone and see a response’

and true to his word, he put his phone down and jumped in the shower, leaving rowan speechless. she had about ten minutes to decide her course of action. she could just give him a list of all the quirks of jimmy and sassy she’d come to know, point out that that’s what he needed to pay attention to. that would be the sensible thing to do, kill the vibe and get out. fast. 

her mind however raced towards other alternatives, swinging between sending him another photo of her, this time on purpose, or just fucking with him to get a reaction. the clock was ticking and she was running out of time. quickly, she typed in: ‘a response’ and tapped on send. now all she had to do was wait -not so patiently- for a text back. 

max opened the text and sighed. he should’ve seen that one coming, of course rowan would be annoying about it. 

‘when you’re done playing games, i’d like to have a conversation

like adults’

in a not so weird word association game, hair brain hot wired and she went to work, standing in front of the mirror. she was on her knees, legs spread and ass touching her heels, her oversized tshirt riding up on her hips. she tried to tug the shirt downward, in what could be perceived as an attempt to keep her modesty -but in reality, it was outlining her breasts perfectly as the fabric stretched over her shirt. satisfied, she snapped the photo and then tried something even more straightforward, dragging a her index finger over her stomach and upwards, taking her shirt along, leaving her panties exposed, her stomach and just a bit of her cleavage. snapping another photo, she couldn’t decide which one she liked best, so it was only wise to send both. 

the first one was followed by a text:

‘adult enough for you?’ 

and without wasting any more time, she sent the second one. 

‘how about now?’ 

he was going to kill her. or she was going to kill him, whichever came first. all annoyance -and everything else- forgotten, his reply was a simple statement. 

‘looks like there is something else that needs my attention’ 

‘i can manage perfectly fine on my own, thank you’

‘show me’ he got bold and he knew it, but damn that woman knew exactly which buttons to press. 

‘looks like you can’t manage on your own’ 

‘don’t test me.’ 

‘or?’ 

‘or i’ll be knocking on your front door again’ 

‘and i won’t let you in’ 

‘we both know you will’

she would. as much as she hated it, one way or another she was at his beck and call, wrapped around his finger with no means of escape. rowan though didn’t want an escape. what she wanted was more of that quiet in her mind when he was with her, how everything went away but that moment, how easily it all flowed and how she could be true to herself without feeling judged, because max was just as bad. 

if max were knocking on her door, she’d be letting him in without a second thought, or wasting a single precious moment before closing any and all space between them. while her mind being so completely and utterly calm in his presence, her body was on fire, one he could ignite with just one simple text. by god, she hated him for it. he had her focused, only for him. max held too much power and he could never find that out. 

what she couldn’t nor wanted to hide was all this back and forth had her frustrated beyond anything she could have ever imagined. as much as she liked bragging earlier, she could not manage on her own, no matter how hard she tried. all she could do was try again and again and again, as she already had. no matter how many times her body convulsed or how sore her fingers were, it wasn’t enough. 

‘and even if did, then what?’ 

‘then i’d be more than happy to show you that i can make you cum better than those pretty little fingers of yours’ 

‘go ahead then

show me, if you’re so good.’ 

he didn’t reply. max was very close to complying, keeping true to his word and spending the next three hours getting back to her door. deciding that he’d have enough though, he booked rowan tickets for the next flight to monaco and scheduled an uber to be at her place three hours before the departure. if his math was correct, she was a bit more than twelve hours from being back at his place. his resolve had been tested enough. it was time hers was too. 

‘go to sleep baby

i’ll have a surprise waiting for you in the morning’ 

rowan woke up the exact same way she fell asleep: abruptly and with very little sense of the time. her phone was blowing up, someone kept calling her and interrupting her restless sleep. 

“what?” she picked up the phone with sleep still in her voice, angry for the rude wakeup call.

“wake up, your uber is waiting for you downstairs.” she heard max’s voice and then the distinct sound of the call dropping, not giving her any time to ask the questions that were popping up one by one. what uber? where was she going? what time even was it? was he serious? 

she got up at lightning speed and looked out her window. it sure looked like an uber was waiting, but she still wasn’t convinced it was for her. curiosity winning the battle against her soft bed, she got hastily dressed and made her way to the car. 

“you rowan?” spoke the driver from his rolled down window, finger gliding his sunglasses down his nose to look at her. 

“yeah…” pieces were clicking together. max did not bullshit her. which made things even weirder. “can you give me like, 10 minutes? keep the meter running, or whatever ubers have.” and with that she turned around and ran back inside her apartment. 

she’d never gotten ready so fast in her life, brushing her teeth while peeing and thinking of what she needed to pack -just in case. in a record time of 7 and a half minutes, she was already on her way back down, small bag with the essentials packed. 

thanking the driver for waiting, she got in the  backseat of the car, debating on whether it would be too rude to ask him to stop for a coffee to go. after a while that seemed too long, her chance was gone and she was being driven around, abruptly woken up from a restless sleep without a single shot of espresso to make things easier. hell, at that point, she’d go for an instant coffee from the supermarket if that meant her eyes would stop watering and closing, and her jaw would keep its place as the relentless yawning would stop. 

she must have dozed off for a part of the drive, as her eyes opened up wide when the car was decelerating, assuming they’d reached their destination, leaving rowan confused. why was she at the airport? she was broke, looking at the taxi meter on the driver’s app, she was about to be even more broke. someone needed to pay that man 45 euros as if she wasn’t strapped in for cash already. still, reluctantly she got her wallet out, hoping and praying that she’d have enough. 

“oh no, it’s already paid for.” she heard the man say and a weight was lifted off her chest. it was in that exact moment she realised that she and her 50 euros would need to last more than some of her past relationships if she was going to survive. 

either way, she felt an obligation to leave the man a tip for having put up with her, parting reluctantly with a 5 euro bill, a wide and fake smile plastered on her face and a thank you so much leaving through gritted teeth. 

thankful to be out of the car and near anywhere she could get herself a coffee, rowan made her way inside, in search of a coffee shop more than anything else. her search was quickly derailed however, from a buzz coming from her phone. another text from max. 

‘hope you enjoyed the ride’

‘maybe it would’ve been better if you were driving’

‘maybe

but now you have a plane to catch, get your ass to your gate!!!’

‘i never booked a flight??”

‘i did

sending you over the information now’ 

and sure enough, within a few seconds time, her phone buzzed with another notification, an email forwarded to her in screenshots with all information necessary for her to board the next flight to monaco, which left in a bit more than an hour. just enough time to go through security and maybe enjoy a coffee at the gate, if she turned her steps to strides that would match a marathon runner. god she needed a smoke. anything to fill up her lungs sounded so damn good. but she quit ‘conventional’ smoking a few months ago -curtesy of her ex- and she wasn’t about to pick it up again now. 

instead, she put on her big girl shoes, strapped them up and determined to yell at max to his face for ruining her day, she started going through all the airport motions she hated with a passion. a couple kilometeres of walking through the unending hallways of the airport, rowan found herself in front of her gate which was oh so conveniently house also to a starbucks. without thinking of her bleeding wallet she got herself a venti iced salted caramel macchiato and sipped it as she waited to board. 

her mind was surprisingly quiet considering the circumstances, but she could barely register what had happened, much less overthink it as the caffeine was still slowly working its magic in her system. there was not a memorable thing about the airport, but she absentmindedly made a point of noting the blue on the seats, the yellow-ish beige of the curtains, even how many outlets were around here and how strategically and practically they were placed. to her surprise and amusement, it looked like there were enough outlets for a busy day. rowan also really wanted to people watch, but her plans fell short when she realised that in her near vicinity the only people were herself and the nice lady at the gate who was waiting patiently to get the order and board rowan into the plane. 

the call finally came and rowan had her ticket checked and escorted into the plane, past where she thought she’d be seated and straight into business class. max hadn’t cheaped out on the expenses, and probably unbeknownst to him, didn’t make anything too extravagant that would leave her in an awkward situation. business class was not first class and it certainly wasn’t his private jet. an uberx or whatever they were called was more than a simple uber, but it still wasn’t a rented limousine or anything like that. and now that rowan was caffeinated -still not quite ready to face the weird day ahead, but at least caffeinated- she could appreciate how he didn’t go all out. it didn’t seem like a desperate cry for help or attention. it seemed like what it probably was: getting her there and having her arrive in comfort, which was greatly appreciated. it didn’t make up for the fact that he dragged her out of the comfort of her own bed and house on a fucking whim, though. 

when she finally planted her feet in monaco soil, rowan was looking around like a lost puppy, trying to see if max had rented out yet another car to drive her around, or if she could take her own cab this time around, feel a bit more like a person and herself. god forbid anything that involved max would ever feel normal. 

a black aston martin vantage caught her eye -just because she got out of racing what felt like a lifetime ago didn’t mean her love for anything on wheels faltered- and its driver was none other than today’s nemesis, the man responsible for all her trouble the past two weeks and jesus christ he looked good with his hands nonchalantly on the steering wheel. she could make out his sandy blond locks and the structure of his face through the tinted glass and that was enough to purposely walk towards the supercar. 

seeing her walk towards him like that was almost menacing and max’s excitement only grew. the uncertainty rowan brought was now something expected, something he’d come to cherish, knowing that she wouldn’t just vanish again. deciding to help her out as much as he could, he stepped out of the car, opened the passenger side door for her and met her halfway, taking her bags. 

“i can do that myself” she protested, but max was too quick, already a few steps ahead with her luggage in hand. 

“hi yourself. yes, it is a nice morning” he mocked at her lack of curtesy, not because he was bothered by it, more because he could. “can’t you let me be a gentleman for once?” 

“i thought you were never gentle.” 

“i do have a reputation to uphold, trouble.” he turned around and gave her a knowing wink. he felt a warmth in his chest after seeing how well she remembered their first real conversation. 

the car ride was silent, but in true them fashion, it was not an awkward one and max was thriving, convinced that this mistake was the biggest right he’d ever done. the rules were simple and not constrictive, he felt free. in the midst of a season that put immense pressure on him, as the reigning world champion with criticism that regardless of his hard earned lead in the current championship, this would be the second win ‘handed’ to him, this was how he’d truly relax, get away from it all. it was hard to keep the smile forming on his lips, or it would be if he tried even a little bit. 

“why am i here, verstappen?” rowan broke the silence and he couldn’t actually decipher her tone. was she being simply inquisitive? was this a question meant to put him in the spot, give her a way out? either way, he wouldn’t reply with anything else but the facts he saw. 

“because you want to. you could’ve told me to fuck off about a dozen times.” it was a reminder she needed, but didn’t really appreciate. she opened her mouth to protest, but max cut her off. “and because we need a distraction. wasn’t that the deal?” 

“yes…” came her begrudged reply after a few moments of trying to think of a comeback, a reason to tell him to turn the car around and let her go home. 

in all honestly, her home didn’t feel like home anymore. although she wasn’t very familiar with the streets of monte carlo, it felt more like home than her own neighbourhood. max being there didn’t hurt either. in fact, he was the reason this place felt so nice instead of a need to burn to the ground. so many things had happened there and their time together, no matter how weird or short, helped her feel like it wasn’t the end, like there was a way to move forward. unorthodox, selfish, maybe even a little bit toxic -only time would tell. but a way nonetheless. 

the rules were that max was not to get dragged into her shit, and she was not get dragged into his. fair, simple and important enough. so if she wasn’t to break those rules, she needed to get out of her head; she needed him to get her out of her head. 

“will you make good on your promise?” 

“i always do. but what promise?” he turned to look at her, confusion clear on his face. 

“that you’d make me cum better than my fingers.” desperate times called for desperate measures and rowan was starting to be a master at that. she could never remember herself being so vulgar in the past, and that in itself was making her blush and look straight ahead into the open road, even though her words did not falter. 

“all in good time, trouble. let’s get you settled in first.” his voice was warm, sweet and surprisingly, his words didn’t make her want to open the door and throw herself into the traffic. instead, she felt her priorities shift as she remembered how good it felt to just be in his company, forcing herself to take in the moment and things one step at a time. there was no rush and despite of what she’d like to convince herself of, this wasn’t a plainly physical transaction. max had made that clear; it wasn’t just about sex. it was about a distraction, sex being part of it. maybe she could finally let go and be. even for once in her life. 

silence laced the atmosphere once again and neither of them cared to break it, not even when they were out of the car and into the elevator, on their way up to max’s apartment. what did change was that max was holding her luggage on one hand while the other travelled along her back, in an aimless back and forth motion. he didn’t even realise he did it until he needed the hand to get his keys. rowan hadn’t said anything, she just enjoyed the relaxing sensation, until it stopped, bringing her back to reality, eyes opening to see the elevator doors doing the same. 

“home sweet home. i trust you know the way around the house.” max said as soon as he unlocked the door, going straight to his bedroom, with her bags still in hand…? 

“what are you- my bags!” 

she rushed behind him, trying to stop max from kidnapping her belongings. 

“what?” he said with a chuckle, hearing her footsteps behind him on the marble floor. “oh did you really think you’d be spending your days on the couch with your clothes messed up in your little bag?” max turned to face rowan, amusement clear on his face. 

he was giving way too much, but he didn’t know it yet. under any other circumstances he’d notice that this was a limit he might consider twice before crossing. rowan sleeping in his bed, taking up space in his closet, no one he’d known for that little had ever had those ‘privileges’. but this was an overthinking free zone, no second thoughts while she was there. that was his own rule in their… whatever that was. 

“but the couch is sooo comfortable!”

“stop whining and settle in”

and she did, without bothering to weigh out the pros and cons, the significance behind his words and actions. rowan had to know by now that with max, what he said was what he meant. it was a strange thing to get used to, for sure. it was also liberating, having to focus less on subtext like she was analysing salinger in school all over again. it had been a while since nothing had been complicated, and while it would take a few shakes of her head to keep her from drifting away and creating her own scenarios and meanings, it was a good thing. 

a couple hours later found them in the couch she used to call her bed, comfortably sitting next to each other while a scifi movie played on the tv that neither of them paid any real attention to. the coffee table was full of empty take out boxes, to which rowan protested, thinking of max’s diet. her concerns were quickly dismissed by a gesture of his hand and a scoff, followed by him opening the ubereats app on his phone and asking her what she was in the mood for, to which rowan simply said ‘surprise me’. 

the buildup to the movie’s climax found them next to each other. rowan had both her feet on the soft grey cushions, both knees bent. one leg was resting against the cushion, while the other, her right one and the one right next to max, was propped up. max on the other hand was not exactly sitting, his body spilled on the couch, taking up much more space than he normally would, still leaving the girl with enough to do the same. 

so when his left hand reached and touched her skin, she should’ve seen it coming. her jean shorts were not doing much to cover her up -not that she needed to; he’d seen all of her before- and still left a lot of her legs exposed. it would be a blatant lie if she said she hadn’t thought of using it to get his gears turning, even as an afterthought when she hastily got dressed that morning. rowan had never been one to dress or do anything for male approval, and she wasn’t about to start now. but the past week had her head filled with thoughts of him, and when a small voice in her head told her when she was so unexpectedly woken up by his call, that she might get to see him, the thought of holding even the slightest bit of power over him, provoking as subtly as possible, shot a thrilling sensation up her spine. 

that power trip did not end with just a pair of loose jean shorts that were just tight enough around her waist and short enough to not be skimpy, and a simple, black, skin tight tank top. it continued with pretending to ignore how his hand felt on her thigh, how close he was to her core which had never really gone to sleep to be woken up all this time. she kept ignoring him even when he squeezed, and from the side of her eye she caught how his fingers tensed up and his knuckles turned white while she was taking the pain it caused in small surges of pleasure. she even managed to ignore him when his grip loosened and his fingers got busy tracing patterns on the reddened skin. but she couldn’t ignore him enough, a triumphant smile appeared on her lips that max was too quick to catch on. 

“are you that happy to have the protagonist die and never see his family again?” 

“oh yeah, dude’s a complete asshole.” 

“nice try, rowan.” her smile was matched with a smirk from max who had been anything but oblivious to her reactions, eager to get something out of her and finally, he did. 

they remained silent and max kept his gentle caress, slowly teasing the girl next to him. rowan had a plan of her own. she’d been made, yes, but he gave himself away: he was watching. and if he was watching, she was going to give him a show. bringing her right index finger against her lips, the tip of her nail found her teeth. if he wasn’t going to look her way again, it would seem like she was just biting her nail. if he paid attention though, he would see how the pad of her finger slid across her bottom lip, how her cheeks hollowed just a bit and maybe even notice her tongue darting against it. if max could tease her with a promise of what could be, so could she. 

as her lips pursed against her finger, she stole a side glance to her right, and saw max’s chest puff with a breath he’d hold for a good couple seconds before reminding himself to exhale again and another triumphant smile made its way to her face. 

“what are you doing?” 

like hell she’d give him a straight answer. 

“waiting to see if you’ll ever make good on your promise.” 

now there was no mistaking which promise she was referring to, or her desire. all that was left was for max to finally make a move. she could be the one to make the move, gods knew how much she wanted to straddle him, feel him against her while their lips clashed. but she also liked the chase, the tease and seeing him break, perhaps she liked that even more. 

“be patient, baby.” he saw right through her and paid her back with the same coin. “we do have a movie to finish, anyway.” 

in the meantime, ever so subtly, max kept moving millimetres closer to rowan bit by painful bit, until she could feel his hot breath against her neck and her hair standing in response. slow, calculated fingers brushed her hair from her neck, as he took in her scent and continued to caress lightly all her sensitive spots; the one behind her ear and her collarbone received special attention. he would mutter any comments he had on the movie, lips brushing against her earlobe or her jaw. rowan never bothered to actually listened to a word that came out of his mouth, only how they felt when they hit her skin. 

the end credits rolled and neither of them moved. max’s hand was still on rowan’s thigh, fingers tightening on the soft flesh when he felt her relax, just to remind her that this wasn’t over; it hadn’t even begun. he was still whispering nothings her way, talking about the movie or something else that the girl never paid any attention to. 

soon, the look in her eyes when she turned to face him turned from playful to wanton. the way she looked at him, impatient but keeping still and true to her own game, almost ready to break her perfectly innocent composure and oh so close to falling apart. until she did. 

tired of waiting, rowan let max have the win and with a swift move came on top of him, legs now on either side of his, trapping him in place. she was hesitant, careful of giving away too much too quickly. she already got carried away once, after all. as it turned out, there was no need for her inhibitions; besides, max was the only one who could tear them down so quickly. his hands found her neck and drew her close, finally kissing her again. he sighed at the feel of her lips against his into the kiss and he felt rowan do the same. some sweet, well deserved relief. 

his hands quickly travelled down to the familiar road from her neck to her chest, stopping only when his palms were full with her tits, fingers ready to knead the skin, even over her shirt, find, tease and tweak on her nipples. he wasted no time doing just that, getting reacquainted with her soft spots, remembering instinctively what made her tick. 

rowan was busying herself with stretching the collar of his shirt, fingers reaching underneath, scratching his skin with a dire urgency, desperate to get him moving hard and fast, like she knew he could. max would indulge her, just not yet. she was making him lose his mind, that had not changed nor faltered from the moment they met. but without any substances also messing with his head, he found he could take his time, mess with her a bit more instead. 

he could have more control over himself, take his time, look past the feeling of her nails against his skin, the small sounds when he applied just the right pressure on her breast, and tease her a little more. or so he thought, until his mind raced to how her mouth felt elsewhere, besides his lips, until he remembered how soft the skin on her belly felt beneath his fingers as he travelled down lower, to her equally soft pussy. relinquishing all control of his mind over his body in favour to feeling her now he grabbed her by the waist and turned her over on the couch, getting on top of her. 

he fumbled against the button and zipper of her shorts, erratically trying to get them off her. the jean fabric was too thick for his liking at the moment and in perfect sync, rowan did the same to his pants, sharing his feelings in more ways than he realised. 

she needed to get him out of those clothes, positive that they were hiding all treasures she could ever want beneath them. quickly, they gave up on trying to get the other rid of their clothes; it was too difficult and time consuming for the state they were in, each focusing on their own. not soon enough, they were in their underwear, lost in each other’s form. 

rowan thought that perhaps she’d gotten used to his bare torso, from all the days he spent parading around without bothering to put on a shirt, even for modesty’s sake. she still found herself admiring his collar bones, his broad shoulders and chest, his toned abdomen and when her eyes reached his legs she was gone. the soft skin on bulky thighs that was just begging for her attention, just slightly less than his boxer-covered crotch was enough to leave her frozen in place. 

for max, seeing rowan like that, only in a pair of lacy panties, sprawled on his couch, was nothing short of a sight to behold. the afternoon light was not allowing for a single detail to be left to the imagination and he was taking everything in, as if it was the first time. in a way, it was, making everything even more exhilarating. 

senses were heightened; taste was not altered by the foul taste of weed and that alone opened up a whole new realm of possibilities to explore that neither of them had the patience to list out but knew were there. smell was dominant, the room already filling up with the scent of sex, while most of all, there was nothing making their limbs numb, the other’s skin underneath their palms felt more real, and there was an urgency that could be finally converted into action. 

within a matter of nanoseconds, rowan had gotten up while max was bending forward, meeting her halfway when their bodies collided, arms wrapping tightly around the other, lips clashing in a not so tender kiss. rowan heard herself moan into max’s mouth, a sound of pure relief that didn’t fail to grind his gears, fingers quickly finding her neck and pulling her even closer, not giving her much chance of escaping until he was done, setting the tone for the rest of their afternoon. as long as she kept moaning for him, he’d have more to take and more to give. 

with eyes still closed and lips still attached, lost in her, max lead them slowly and carefully -more to not break contact than for the sake of being careful and not tripping on the way- to the bedroom. a familiar enough setting, and there was a thought that switching things up might be preferable, which was quickly dismissed in the name of comfort, spaciousness and some relevant privacy. backtracking to the bedroom, max allowed himself to fall on the mattress and finally broke the kiss. 

“sit on my face, baby.” leaving rowan dumbfounded. “did i stutter, love?” he played on her surprise, to which rowan didn’t bother with a verbal response. 

‘ask and you shall receive’ was the only thought through her mind as she took off her underwear and positioned herself above his head, slowly lowering her core until she felt the contact, making her legs shake just a little but managed to come to a halt in her descent. 

his hands quickly and expertly wrapped around her thighs, immediately applying his strength to bring her even further down, until he could feel her thighs mushing his face. once he was content with the positioning, he got to work. only this time, it wasn’t going to be slow or an exposition of his technique. 

this time around, it was about needing his face covered with her juices until it was the only thing he’d be able to smell and taste for a week. it was about devouring the sensitive flesh, taking in as much of her as he could. a selfish endeavour that included hard sucking of her folds, teeth scraping those very same, tender spots and tongue working to quench this newfound and unique thirst. 

it almost wasn’t about rowan’s pleasure at all. but she didn’t care, it didn’t matter. all that mattered is that it felt too damn good. not only how it felt like eating her pussy was keeping him alive, but how his hands didn’t allow her to move, highlighting that this was not about her; it would not be over until he was satiated, whether that meant she came five times or none at all. and for some reason, that exact feeling was what was driving rowan to the brink of madness only when combined with how his tongue brushed her clit and lapped against it. he was a rabid dog and she was heading to the same direction. 

no matter how good it felt, it wasn’t enough. her hands reached for her nipples, trying to bring in some extra stimulation. it worked, as her fingers found max’s rhythm and got in sync, but yet again, it just wasn’t enough. wave after wave of pleasure, something was missing; she was empty. she needed him inside her mouth, her cunt, somewhere. 

“max… please…” darkened blue eyes shot open and glared at her, with no stop in his motions. “let me… let me turn around.” words came out between sharp breaths and moans, vowels mixing together. when max didn’t comply with her request, she knew she needed to try harder. “please… i need to feel… you… please.” he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t done, but those pleas made his knees weak. with the first chance he got, he raised his hands from her thighs to her hips, lifting her up and prompting her to turn around, helping as much as he could while never letting her forget that she was not the one in charge. 

as soon as her knees touched the mattress again, max’s mouth was again working on her pussy, almost distracting her from her mission. the empty feeling returned soon though, reminding her that she needed to get to work if she wanted to be able to get the most out of her body and what he was doing, how he was making her feel. bending down, her mouth found his cock almost by instinct and she wrapped her lips around it as tightly as she could, as if it held her life inside, determined to get it back inside her. 

she couldn’t know if she forgot to swallow or she was just salivating that much at the feeling, the taste of the sensitive skin on her tongue. regardless, rowan was soon testing the limits of her gag reflex time and time again, pushing his cock further down her throat even just a little with each bob of her head. it was all becoming too much, the sensations on her pussy, his feeling in her mouth, her need and striving for more with each passing second, it was making her dizzy. that and the fact that she was too preoccupied to remind herself to come up for air more frequently,  letting her body reach its limit at choking on max’s dick. 

rowan was still trying to grind herself against his face, get more friction, find a way to let him know that she needed something inside her to accompany his tongue even for just a few seconds, it would be enough to finally get her over the edge. all her efforts were in vain though, and they would continue to be, even as his load hit the back of her throat, hips bucking to get himself further inside her and rowan gagged but tried her best to keep in place and suck even harder. 

with max not nearly satiated but with a bit more clear head and rowan still out of her mind, he guided her gently off him and turned her around to bring her up. he needed her to taste herself on his tongue, know exactly what it was that made her feel like that. and tasting himself on hers didn’t hurt as a small, triumphant smile shone through their kiss. 

rowan was still lucid enough to assert herself, although her body worked on autopilot. max’s hands travelled to her back and sides, grabbing firmly and hungrily at anything he could find. not letting that stop her, the girl was quick to straddle him. her legs locked tightly around his hips, and with very little effort she finally felt him almost slip inside her, filling her up in an instant. the shock of the sensation, of the newfound kind of pleasure mixed with the slightest bit of pain of stretching around him made her stop in her tracks, movements frozen in time as her eyes shot wide open and turned to the ceiling. 

max on the other hand was more quick to adjust, ready to feel more and his hands locked on her hipbones as his pelvis moved, creating much needed friction. this helped rowan adjust, realise what was going on and for a few minutes, she allowed herself to enjoy it. she was coming back to her senses, in a way, as if her brain was finally allowed to work again to let everything sink in. alas, that didn’t last. turns out, max was not a fan of repetition and was quick to change the rhythm and pace, almost violently moving his body against hers, as the sound of skin against skin was almost drowned out by her cries and his grunts. it felt as if with each thrust he was reaching even deeper into her and rowan could only think of one word: how. but she wasn’t going to complain. even if she wanted to, words would fail her.

when he slowed down, presumably to take a breath, rowan took matters into her own hands, still not satiated. she balanced herself on her hands which she placed on his chest, and let her body take over once more. there was no telling if there was any rhythm in the frantic movements of her hips, her only indicator being her own pleasure. her eyes had been closed, too focused on the sensation of his hard cock inside her to ruin it with any other sense. touch was the only one that mattered. how his skin felt beneath her fingertips, how his fingers were bound to leave bruises on her hips, how she could never explain the ecstasy inside her, but she knew it was still touch. 

despite feeling her thighs burning, rowan was unyielding; still moving against him, riding the man beneath her as if her life depended on it, her muscles were starting to give up. in trying to find a more comfortable position, she removed her hands from his chest and replaced them with her entire torso, almost falling on him, all while trying not to miss a single beat. max caught her in the very last moment, just before her head was millimetres away from collapsing on his neck, by grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up. 

rowan’s mouth hung agape, hair unruly and all over her face, eyes barely open and darker than he’d ever saw them and max had never wanted to fuck the everloving shit out of somebody else as much. the same hand that was holding her up by the hair twisted the fingers around the strands and rowan winced in pain, which max was quick to wash down with a kiss, bringing her face close enough to clash their lips together. all while rowan was practically shaking against him. he almost took pity on her. almost. 

“is my baby close?” the fist coherent sounds in a long time, rowan took a while to process but was quick to respond with a shake of her head and another loud moan. if only he knew how much closer calling her that brought her. 

his free hand gently touched her back, signalling that she could relax, take a break, he could take over. and he did take over, as his fistful of hair raised her body just enough so he could slide his hand from her back between them and reach her cunt. fingers teased, taking a few seconds to find her clit. and once he was sure he had it, he could keep it up, max resumed his thrusts. hard and fast, not caring about going deep this time around; he just followed his body and kept doing what felt right. and apparently what felt right for him also felt right for her. he could feel her tightening around him -as if that were possible- and her breaths became quick and shallow. now it was only a matter of a few seconds and keep doing exactly what he’d been doing. 

the pieces of his plan came together as rowan came apart, writhing on his cock, as her body contorted and her mouth was busying itself with words he couldn’t comprehend in the midst of his own haze. she felt so fucking good, she looked so fucking good and all that was his. only his. all this was because of and for him. he’d made her feel like this, he’d made her look like that. 

it seemed like rowan was slowly coming down from her high, regaining her composure. but max wasn’t about to have that, not when he was so close himself. he removed his hand from her pussy and reached for her tit instead, feeling how perfectly it filled up his palm while her nipple had been begging for attention even after everything. and who was he to deny her? fingers got busy fondling the soft skin of her breast, while tweaking the nipple, and rowan sucked in her breath and almost protested. 

she’d had enough. all that teasing and edging only to lead to her feeling filled to the brim as his cock caressed the perfect spots with every thrust and his fingers just knew how to move against her clit had her seeing stars. and yes, it was enough. but her hips were still bucking against his, and her pussy was still dripping, a direct manifestation of how she just needed more. and more he gave her. sure, she was sensitive. but for the first time in her life, that didn’t mean stop; it meant that a second orgasm was closer than ever. 

and as max reached even closer his own climax, he traded any finesse for even harder thrusts, inevitably getting deeper. and as that happened, rowan felt like she was a backseat driver in her own body, which had grown limp. hoarse sounds escaped her scratched throat and as max’s cock twitched inside her, and that was the final straw. not only feeling it along with the pain from her hair still in his grip and her sensitive nipple being borderline abused, but knowing that he was coming inside her, that she’d made that happen all on her own, brought rowan past the edge again. 

max may or may not have been totally oblivious to rowan’s second orgasm, being too focused on the unique sensation that it was to come inside her when she was like that. had he the mind, perhaps he would have realised that what made this time so special was the girl’s own climax. but in the end, it made little to no difference for either of them. they both got what they wanted; everything that had been promised and more. 

they shared another breathless yet soft kiss, before he helped her off him, and she did need the help. her legs were almost too sore to close, something she’d definitely feel the next morning among other things that she couldn’t even begin to list. 

“so that was… something.” max broke the silence and rowan laughed. 

“yeah, you can call it that.” she tried to roll over and get up, take a shower, get dressed, her usual routine, but her legs weren’t cooperating. 

“stay here.” it was something between a command and a plea, as he extended his arm, making room her her to lie on his chest. rowan complied, but she was still running her mouth, the adrenaline still had not quite worn off. 

“is that what we’re doing now?” 

“it’s what we’ve done before.” except you went and left like a thief, max wanted to add but bit his tongue. there was no reason for this, not now. 

the sun was beginning to set and when he woke up, the moon was gently shining through his window, providing little light. but he didn’t need to see to feel her weight against him, her soft breath on his skin. he wrapped one arm around her waist, bringing her even closer and closed his eyes again with a dreamy hope that when he opened them again, she’d still be there. 

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

if you've made it this far, thank you. i understand that this took three months to be delivered and i do have excuses, but you probably don't care for them. it still took three months less to be completed than part one, so i'll give me that much heh!

so if this has an abrupt ending, i'm sorry. but there are too many things going on at the moment to have the anxiety of another wip in my mind. maybe someday i'll get back to patching any holes. perhaps it will be "and they were rommates!!! the dlc" or some shit.

rowan has a backstory (in contrast to any other female main characters i've ever written for smut fics) that would be fun to explore someday, because i do like her. and i'm sure you'd like her too.

as always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated! i love you all for sticking with this story, taking the time to read it!

take care, have fun and BE SAFE THOSE FUCKERS HAVE NEVER HEARD OF A CONDOM JFC

taglist (sorry if i forgot someone!!):

@whathesaids @sriusun @punkladymoes @atlanticowe @shyartisanvoidwagon

[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.

----------

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[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?

[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

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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.

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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

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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!

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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Sales posting, 12th of May, 1983:

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

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Headline, 7th of August, 1983:

Former Pub Owner Hit By Double-Decker Bus

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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

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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!”

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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!

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[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:

[justreadertings]

Bad Dreams

Ok this is just a quick thing that has been sitting in my drafts forever, and I finished it up now! I wanted to share it because despite how amazing New York was... I MISSED MY MOM!!! and I missed you guys! so here’s some writing lol. Also I love Canon Aelin, and Mom Aelin. Ok, enjoy!- Magee

Masterlist

Tw: mentions of torture, vibes of “slipping through my fingers” from Mama Mia

Aelin was not bored. Gods bless her, if she ever was. No, she was just… waiting. 

The castle was quiet, and she was perched atop her throne, drawing pictures in the wooden armrest. It was the first moment of peace she’d had all day. Being queen was a tiring, all consuming job. She closed her Ashryver eyes. Something would come along soon, demanding her attention. But for right now… this was nice. 

Her brief peace was ended with the careful opening of the throne room doors. Her eyes stayed closed as the door shut. She didn’t even want to know what was about to be asked of her.

“Mama?”

Her eyes opened. Being a mother was a tiring, all consuming job. But she adored it even more than being queen of her great nation. 

“Yes, Evalin dearest?” 

Her eldest, sixteen in age, stood proud in front of her. She was a picture of Aelin herself, with her features and cunning, but with the tan of her father- and the calculation of him, as well. Evalin was his perfect warrior. She was to make the fiercest defender of Terrasen the world had ever seen. Yet her sweetness had come completely from her namesake, her soft edges reminding Aelin and Rowan of the beauty of childhood without threat of war.

“I wanted to ask you something,” her daughter said, eyes earnest. 

Aelin eyed her child’s leathers, her messy braid and sweaty brow. “What did Uncle Fen tell you this time?” Aelin should have never allowed Fenrys to train her daughter in the art of defense. He was nothing but a gossip. 

Evalin smiled, fondly. “No, it wasn’t him.”

Aelin made grabby- hands toward her. “Don’t just stand there looking at me,” she joked. “Come here to me. Let me kiss on you.”

Evalin did come to her, but she batted her hands away. “Ugh, I’m all sweaty. Leave me alone.”

“You’re no fun,” Aelin pouted. She poked her daughter’s cheek as she perched on the arm of her chair. “Just like your papa.”

Evalin scowled like Rowan, too. Still, Aelin combed the top of her child’s head. She was grateful for the quiet of the room. It was so rare that she got time alone with just her eldest. Evalin was her world. All her children were. Aelin thanked every god who was still holy, who still had a say in this world, that she was around to create such wonders. They were her greatest accomplishment.

“I had a dream,” her daughter told her.

Aelin frowned at Evalin’s serious tone. “What about it worries you?”

“It was-” she began. “I tried to run it out. Tried to beat it out. But I just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” Aelin tried to clarify. She’d had to work on her patience greatly in parenthood.

Evalin bit at her fingernails. Aelin remembered what it was like being sixteen. Granted, her life experience and her daughter’s life experience differed wildly- thank the heavens- but still. She knew Evalin had to be nervous about something. 

“It was about you.”

Aelin shifted. She ran a soothing hand down Evalin’s back. “What about me?”

Evalin covered her eyes, as if she had a headache. “It was… you were locked up.”

Aelin’s blood froze. “I was locked up?”

Her child nodded. “You- I think something happened to you. You kept…” her throat bobbed. “You were screaming. For papa. For anyone. And just- screaming.”

Aelin’s eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around Evalin, and brought her to sit on her lap as if she were still as wee as the youngest, Eire. 

Evalin stared at Aelin’s eyes. Her dusty hands reached out to her mother’s face. “Mama…”

Aelin wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to compose herself. “I just… I used to have dreams like that.”

“Like what?”

Aelin’s voice turned soft, and she thought about her daughter’s namesake. “Memories. Things I should not know, should not remember. And dreams of my mother.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Aelin could have sworn Evalin was five again, sneaking into her and Rowan’s bed for soothing. “Why did I have that dream, mama?” Evalin’s voice broke. 

Aelin swallowed, wishing Rowan were beside her. He was always better at these harder conversations. “You know about the war,” Aelin began.

“You saved the world,” Evalin said, nodding. 

Aelin’s heart warmed. “I suppose you could say that.” She traced her daughter’s beautiful face. “But it did not cost nothing. I made sacrifices. I-” she paused, reminding herself of all the beauty that had followed her out of the darkness. “I wanted to save Terrasen. Before anything else.”

Her daughter nodded, listening thoughtfully like her papa. 

“But I had to make a choice, once. To save Terrasen or myself.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And the world deserved better than what it had. I wanted that world, a better world, for my people. For your father, your aunts and uncles.”

It was not to hurt her feelings, but Evalin asked, “it meant you were sacrificing us, too.” Her daughter looked so much like her husband, then, both devastation and calculation in her Ashryver eyes. “You would not have… me, Eden, Elyntia, Elspeth, even Eire… we would not have existed.”

Aelin’s hands shook around her daughter. “And I thank everything powerful in this world that that future did not come to pass.”

Evalin tilted her face. Sadness graced her features. “You gave up so much.”

Warm tears pressed Aelin’s eyes. “Yes, baby. I did.”

Then, Evalin just scooted down further, settling in her mother’s lap. Aelin pressed her lips to her daughter’s head, regretting time for making her baby grow so fast. Still, she could rock gently, and her first born laughed against her chest as she sang the folk song that put Eire to sleep every night. It was the same song she’d sung to all of her beautiful, wonderful cabal of children.

“Can you stop growing?” Aelin whispered against her daughter’s hair.

Evalin squeezed her. “I’ll try, Mama.”

Thanks for reading! It IS gonna be pre-tech week and then tech week (I know, excuses excuses) but I’m gonna try to get both a chapter of Till Death Do Us Part out AND hopefully Coffee Shop Rules. We’ll see. Ok byeeeeeee

Taglist:

@leiawritesstories

@tomtenadia

@fireheart-violet

@backtobl4ck

@morganofthewildfire

@rowaelinismyotp

@aelinchocolatelover

@thegreyj

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@booklover242

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[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

[flowering-thought]

I know the Kawahara's are weary of dogs, now bear with me (because I own a beautiful loving dog that is exceptionally good with babies and kids and small animals),

They fall for their darling, head over heels heart eyes-

Darling owns a dog. A medium/big dog. Darlings dog is so well behaved and loves giving kisses.

How do the Kawahara's react? How do they feel about it?

And if you are up for more, how does Rowen feel about his darling having a dog?

Love your work and OC's

With much appreciation

-🍁 anon

🍁 Anon!!! I'm working on your other ask btw it's just taking me a lil- but I feel you on the dog thing as I have a smaller dog who's uhhhh sweetish?? Idk she had a fear of men and strangers ngl-

Butttt this ask! Sorry it's a little small <33

For Takeo? He's the most fine with dogs out of all the brothers. As long as it's a proper introduction to the big pupper and like the dog doesn't jump on him he's good! And he'll slowly get to know the dog and come to love them just as much as you. Might just pick the baby up and give them big kisses cause Takeo can ♡

Makoto is wary more than fearful. Takeo is less likely to tell you what happened but Makoto will explain it and ask if he can take getting to know your dog slowly. He really is careful and just needs a slow hand. But when he realizes that your dog is just a pupper who loves people he'll be fine with it and slowly come to love the dog. Will help you take him on walks and loves to brush your dog's fur and scratch that one spot that makes your dog's foot move. He just needs a bit of time to get used to it.

But for Daisuke?? It's a long journey. He loves you so much but when he finds out you have a dog he kinda has a panic attack. He might just break down crying in front of you panic. He'll explain that his mother wasn't the best and brought home a strangers dog that bit him and that he has a major fear of dog's. But he loves you so much that he can't live without you so he says he'll try but to not get upset with him.

It starts with you sending photos of him. And then videos and video chats with him and your dog. And then the dreaded meet... you two meet at his place, as he wants to see if Mikan will get along with your dog. And the moment you step through the doors Mikan will come over to see what's happening. Mikan is actually okay with dogs, and knows how to detect behavior better so Mikan just gives the dog a kiss before going to comfort Daisuke.

Daisuke takes that as a good sign and will sit on the couch. Honestly? He's too afraid to move. So you have to take it slow. And soon maybe after a couple of weeks he may pet the dog. After that he'll come to enjoy the dogs presence. It just takes maybe half a year for him to actively ask you about the dog and maybe even kiss the dog and allow the dog to get near him on his own. His fear is big but slowly he realizes that maybe this one dog is okay. Doesn't mean he'll be going with you to a dog park or any other dog besides yours. And if you praise him on how well he's doing that helps even more. He loves you and a little bit of patience goes a long way.

B O N U S

Rowan loves animals. Dogs? Cats? Chickens? Cows? Any kind if animal including the dangerous ones. So when he sees your big pupper he's running over and giving that dog the biggest smooch! He can't help it he just loves animals and gets along with them well. (Maybe cause he's the most dog like of my OC's?)