#that's the only money im giving to dorian and im never looking back

[crystallizsch]

ayo, is that faust from cult-classic vn the arcana? 👁👁

YEAHHH FAUST SPOTTED‼️‼️‼️

MOST PRECIOUS GIRL EVER FROM THE CULT-CLASSIC VN THE ARCANA ™

i miss my arcana mc oh my god (i might share her again hdhj). i had a good 2ish years in that fandom with similar twst-level obsession (until the whole thing with dorian 💔)

anyways i mainly fw julian but asra holds a special place in my heart too <333

[kackmack]

Fake Smile

Rowan x Aelin

Chapter 9

“WHAT THE FUCK? YOUR DATING HER” Fenrys roared barging into Rowans office. Rowan didn’t shift his face from his computer. “WHITETHORN”

“What?” Rowan answered flatly finally looking up.

“Aelin! You asshole!” Fenrys barked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan tried not to smirk but as the weekend’s events flashed over his eyes he couldn’t help it. Aelin and Rowan spent the whole weekend cooped up in his apartment, not even venturing out for food, having delivery and movies on his tv in the background as he couldn’t even keep his hands off her, kept them both in bliss until the hard hit of Monday morning had him leaving her in his bed so he could go to work. He desperately wanted to stay, but with the deadline coming up he just couldn’t risk a setback.

“Don’t play dumb! She was here!” Fenrys clutched his hands on his sides nearly shaking. Rowans face fell as he realized Fenrys normal goofiness was replaced by rage.

“How do you know that?”

“Your assistant was blabbing off about a cute blonde waiting in your office. What the hell Rowan! You were the one telling me not to go after her.”

Rowan knew he was truly fucked and couldn’t act like he didn’t know what Fen was talking about. “You need to calm down, you had like two conversations with her.”

“Yeah! And I liked her. You dick. The one girl you date. REALLY?” Fenrys snapped back. Rowan knew Fenrys was mad but he really didn’t have to be this loud or aggressive. Rowan didn’t owe him an explanation so he just kept his face blank.

“We’re not dating.” Rowan truly didn’t know what he was doing with Aelin. Every day Rowan felt more, cared more. It hadn’t hit him that they hadn’t labeled it.

Dating? He hasn’t even taken her out.

Together? No he hasn’t had that conversation with her.

Just fucking? Nope he knew he had feelings for her. Deeper than lust.

“Oh? You’re just fucking her? Fuck you dude. You could have anyone. You could have your damn assistant!” Rowan clutched the papers on his desk to keep from throwing something at Fenrys.

Rowan calmed his nerves and set the papers down as he calmly said “Aren’t you hooking up with the girl from Human Resources? You have like four girls you like at once. Go find someone else. Don’t come at me like that because Aelin didn’t want you.”

“And what? She wants you?” Fenrys scoffed and Rowans blood started to boil. “She’s like half your age. You’re an old brute. All you’re going to do is hold her back and waste her time. You just want her because she’s a new shiny toy. You’ll drop her as soon as you get bored.” Fenrys had already slammed the door behind when Rowan threw his stapler.

Hours later, Rowan still couldn’t focus, barely able to do his work as his mind kept going back to the words Fenrys spat at him.

“You’ll hold her back.” “Waste her time.” Rowan tried not to think about how she truly was much more than he thought. She’s witty, wicked smart, kind, and she opened up to him. Rowan hasn’t had many people open up to him much less him to others. His appearance, his hight, his bulkiness, his tattoos, his ever so firm resting angry face scared people away. He liked it that way. Seeing people avoid him in the streets, avoid his eye contact as he spoke, or people down right being intimidated fed his ego.

But she was never intimidated by him, everything that drove people away from him just lured her in. Aelin was some kind of light, a fire and he couldn’t bring himself to realize he’ll be the one to snuff out her spark.

Rowan knew he had to let her go. Let her be happy with someone near her age, that could share the life experiences that will shape her into a beautiful woman. Rowan didn’t want to admit it but he knew Fenrys was right.

Rowan finally had the inkling to call her as he left his office. He had avoided all her calls and text as he mulled over the words from Fen. Didn’t even want to read the messages she left him as he dialed her number.

“Hey baby.” Aelins voice was light and airy as if she’d been waiting for his call all day. Rowan clenched his jaw as his heart strained.

“Aelin.” Rowan couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

“Rowan, what’s wrong?” As if just the sound of his voice gave him away. As if she knew the change of his voice by heart.

“We can’t do this anymore. Aelin we can’t see each other.” Rowan was trying to keep still as he sat in his car, still parked at his office.

For a moment Aelin remained silent. Like she was letting his words settle into her, letting the words enter her heart slowly.

“Why?” She finally spoke, almost a whisper.

“You deserve so much more than me. Aelin I’m too old for you. I’ve lived already and you haven’t.” Rowan let out a deep breath as he spoke.

“You’re only seven years older than me what are you talking about?”

“Aelin don’t make this harder than it needs to be, we’ve only known each other for a month now.”

“You know what Rowan fuck you! I fell for you!” Aelin snapped. Rowan couldn’t believe what he just heard. As those word hit him like a brick in the face.

“I know you have feelings for me Rowan. I know you do. Don’t lie to me.” He couldn’t lie to her he couldn’t tell her he had not felt anything for her. “I know my age. I know yours. I have no problem with it. It seems like you do.” Its more than that. “Rowan don’t act like youre doing this for me. You’re doing it to keep you’re piece of mind. I get it. But im tired of this game Rowan. I’m tired of wanting you and you running away. Pushing me away and pulling me back in. Rowan choose to have me or not to. Choose me or don’t. Figure your shit out!” he heard the click as she hung up.

Rowan couldn’t help but punch his steering wheel enraged.

….

Aelin threw her phone clear across the locker room when she hung up. What the hell was that? Why do this?

Aelin was just about to start training when Rowan called. She couldn’t help her big smile when she saw his name on her phone, her butterflies crept up as she answered and it was quickly ruined.

After a bit of training.

“Ow what was that for?” Aelin spat as Dorian smacked her on the face with his training glove.

“You’re not here Aelin.”

“What the fuck Dorian? Obviously I’m here.”

“No Aelin your mind is somewhere else. I told you when you step into this gym, when you train with me. You keep your problems at the door and train.” Dorian said as he smacked her again.

“Fine!” And before Dorian could block, Aelins gloved fist came flying to his face. Ignoring the training glove completely.

“Okay not to my face but yes please focus.” So Aelin gave it her all.

After about thirty minutes of fighting, Aelin had finally stopped for a brake.

“Dorian I need you to come to Aedion’s and Lysandras wedding with me”

“Are you asking me to be your date?” Aelin rolled her eyes as he smirked.

“Uh I guess”

“Aw I’m sorry. I was invited and I already asked Mannon…. Aelin don’t make that face.” Aelin didn’t realize she scrunched up her nose at the mention of her old opponent.

“She acutely likes you, you know. Aelin give her a chance. It wasn’t her that beat you up in the alley, it was her damn following.”

Aelin had asked Rowan to the wedding a few days ago and he surprisingly said yes, even offering to go with her to the rehearsal dinner, it made her heart flutter how he wanted to be there for her.

Seems like plans changed so she’ll be going to both alone.

…

When Rowan finally got home, he actually went straight to bed. It seemed like today had been a little to exasperating so he made his way to his bed as soon as he was showered.

As he laid back he noticed his senses riling up, her sent was woven into his comforters. They had spent most of the weekend in his bed so he shouldn’t be surprised to smell her on it, he just didn’t think it would hit him so hard.

Rowan clutched the sheets to his face as he remembered her lips on his. Remembered his hands all over her, his tongue all over her. Remembered her moans, her saying his name so breathlessly.

Rowan picked up his phone and noticed he had three text messages and one voicemail from Aelin waiting for him.

TEXT: Hey baby good morning, I hope you have a good day!

TEXT: I saw this silver Hawk stuffed animal and thought about you.

(Picture attached)

TEXT: I know you’re busy, I hope you’re not stressed call me after work?

Voicemail: “Hey I know you probably won’t listen to this till later today but Im at lunch and I just wanted to say I want to see again Rowan.”

Rowan read the text and heard the voicemail at least hundred times before falling asleep. He tried, he really tried to tell himself what he did was for the best.

…

Aelins limbs were trembling as she took off her clothes in the locker room. She had gone harder than she had in months in the ring today. Telling Dorian “Again” after every break they had. They had been sparing for at least three hours before Dorian had grunted “ Enough”. She couldn’t help it. She needed to get all her stress out, her favorite outlet to let it all go. But tonight it had done nothing but make her arms and legs burn.

Aelin hated showering at the gym, the water was always freezing, Dorians father was so tight with his money he didn’t even buy a water heater. “it’s the best for my fighters” No hes just cheap.

Tonight though the freezing water hitting her bare skin was honestly a welcomed pain. Let all her limbs soak so the fire could ease. Aelin just stayed in the shower for an ungodly amount of time until she was shaking to the bone.

Authors Note: To my coworker that found my fanfiction… please don’t hate me

xxx

Tag list: @flowersinvegas @shadowstar2313 @heir2chaos@heymichelle360@aelinchocolatelover @captain-timetraveldreamer@rowaelinforeverworld 

[vicekings]

Blind Eye Blaze

Brynden/Ben fic i promised lol. ~1750 words, nothing really explicit about it.

if you’ve got eye issues and struggle with reading it on my theme, here’s a link to the google doc copy of it

dunno if im gonna put it on ao3 yet we’ll see.

note: bryn’s just gonna be referred to as the Playa for most of the fic, but it is 100% bryn lol. takes place during sr1 after Ben is rescued from the VK coup and up until the boat explosion. 

The “Playa’s” apartment was comfortable, if not exactly homey. It was quiet most of the time, with the owner absent and Ben left alone. It felt much more like an abandoned military outpost than an apartment. The place felt… empty.

Ben vaguely wondered how the Playa trusted him purely on Julius’s word (if he even did trust him, really) enough to leave him alone in the apartment. Trusted him enough to let Ben take his bed and sleep on the couch instead, at least. Trusted him not to leave, as the lock on the door had been broken long before Ben took up residency and remained broken even now. The Playa didn't have much in the apartment worth stealing, he supposed.

He supposed, and didn't complain. The Playa made him breakfast. The Playa made sure the bathroom door locked. The Playa gave him his space. The Playa brought back takeout and didn't interrupt him.

He was good.

“The best friend I've had in long damn while.” Ben had said over lukewarm chicken fried rice one evening.

“And I don't even know your goddamn name.”

The Playa smirked and cocked his head aside, silver eyes twinkling in the dim light. As per usual, he offered no reply. He poked at his food.

---

Ben found the Playa’s leftovers in the fridge the next morning; barely touched. The styrofoam box sat right beside the almost-empty bottle of scotch. On the shelf above sat Ben’s lunch, with a note from the playa in deceptively elegant script, asking him to put the clothes in the wash and letting him know that the “lift” was out. There was money on the counter for Ben to buy pizza with. If he wanted delivery, he'd have to go downstairs and pick it up.

Judging from the increasing cracks in the windows and the Playa’s already proven cooking proficiency, Ben figured the money could be better used on other things.

He bought pizza anyways. They shared it over the last dregs of scotch and shitty beer.

“If you didn't waste cash on pizza and booze, you might be able to afford to fix those windows.” Ben said casually, just barely watching the shitty hallmark movie on the old box TV.  

The Playa snorted.

The woman in the movie grew visibly angry. “This is not a home!” She snapped. “This is not my home!” Her fiery red hair was whipped around by the fierce winds of winter.

Ben didn't quite know why, but he chuckled. The Playa did too.

“Her dye job is almost as bad as yours.” Ben laughed.

Something sparked in the Playa's eyes. It almost looked like fear. The glimmer of it lasted a breath, then left as fast as it had come. Had Ben been looking, he might've noticed. When he finally did look up, the Playa had pulled his hood up over his greasy black locks. Ben stomped down the whim to ask him when the last time he had showered was.

---

The Playa showered the next day, though Ben suspected he wouldn't have if not for the sudden and overwhelming smell of gasoline and rotting fish that lingered on him and his clothing. When the playa emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, his greasy black hair had changed back to a blood red. So blood red that Ben had felt a brief moment of panic smack into him like a train at the sight of it. Only when the Playa shook out his shaggy mop of hair did Ben feel his heart rate drift back to normal.

“You'll need a new dye kit.” Ben observed.

The Playa glanced up at him with the eyes of a kicked puppy and then nodded cautiously.

“Relax, Lisbeth Salander. I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret.” Ben chuckled.

The Playa cracked a smile, and pointed towards the first aid kit on the counter. Ben handed it over, noticing the gash on the Playa’s stomach for the first time as he did so.

---

If Julius was going to send Ben to the doghouse for weeks over a little bullet wound, then of course it made sense he'd send the Playa back too for the knife wound. Ben never considered that the Playa might've made the choice on his own. This was, after all, the man who had taken on a daredevil mission to save a gang leader with only a motorbike and a handgun. He had to be advised once in awhile.

While the Playa was in the bathroom re-dyeing his hair, his cell phone lit up with a text.

Julius: Where are you?

Five minutes later, the Playa’s cell phone rang. Ben picked up.

“He's recovering, Jules. Give him a day. Yeah, knife wound, I think. He's fine. I'll let him know you called.”

This was also the man who had thrown him on Johnny Gat’s desk and successfully patched him up on his own, no hospital required. Perhaps he didn't need advice after all.

---

Ben's newest friendship was built on beer and shitty Hallmark movies. He supposed there were worse ways to make friends. He supposed that spicing things up and watching melodramatic hospital shows with his new friend counted as developing their relationship. For two days while the Playa rested, that’s all the two of them did.

That's all Ben did.

The Playa read, mostly when Ben was asleep. Ben wasn't sure the Playa slept at all, but then again Ben wasn't sure about much when it came to the Playa. What he did know was that when he woke up, the bookmark had gotten closer to the end of the novel.

When the Playa left again, his copy of Dorian Gray was tucked neatly on the DVD shelf filled mostly with other tattered books.

---

Ben woke up shaking. He hadn't done that in a long time. As he caught his breath, the warm hand against his back almost made him lose it again.

The Playa looked him with concern in his eyes. “We can start tomorrow.” He said, in the gravelly tone that was rarely heard and barely sounded right on his tongue. “You've healed up enough.”

“What about you?” Ben asked, still shuddering.

Snorting, the Playa shrugged. He offered up the glass of water from the end table.

---

On the last night Ben spent at the Playa’s apartment, they had homemade pasta and cheap boxed wine. Ben went to bed early, only feeling slightly guilty that he had displaced the Playa from his bed for three weeks.

With the sound of spraying water from the shower came the rise of a soft voice. At 2:01 in the morning, unable to sleep and sparking with nerves, Ben pondered the irony of a man who never spoke but sounded like an absolute angel when he sang.  

---

Standing at the shattered glass and looking down, Ben felt a sigh settle in his soul. With Tanya fell his empire. With his car Kingdom Come burned.

The Playa placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Ben always forgot how tall he was until the Playa stood directly behind him, at perfect height for Ben to tuck his head against his collarbone. Ben stepped away, and fished his keys from his pocket.

“I don't have much use for it now. Get her patched up, send her to the dump, I don't really give a damn.” Ben shrugged. “Thanks, Playa. For everything.”

“I'll get her fixed.” The Playa replied, the gravelly wrong-voice dropped and replaced with a distinctly smoother and much more Irish voice.

“And it’s Brynden. The name.”

Ben paused until the silence between them became as awkward as a middle school dance.

“... What the fuck kind of name is Brynden?”

The Playa’s silver eyes glinted with the reflection of the fire. He offered a grin. “‘S my name.” He said.

“... Oh.”

“And-” the Pl- Brynden dug into his jean pockets and pulled out his own key. “Something in return. In case you ever need to lay low again. Don't be a stranger.”

Ben cocked his head aside. “So now you get the lock fixed?”

Brynden shrugged. “Until it breaks again. Best of luck to ya, Mr King. It was a pleasure.”

He trotted off into the night, carrying himself much more regally than usually.

---

No one else knew his name. The papers called him a gang member. The ladies at the coffee shop called him “a handsome devil, likely not so much though after that.” Ben called him Brynden, and Brynden was as good as dead.

Ben choked on his coffee and spat it out against the paper. He had to toss it out and nab a new one. A new one confirming he hadn't been seeing things. There on the front cover, a story that froze Ben to the core.

Alderman Hughes Dead In Tragic Boat Accident. Full story on page 4.

Brynden was a second thought, a barely mentioned nobody who died and was in critical care in the Stilwater Prison. He was the probable perpetrator, caught in his own plot.

But his grainy little picture, said to have come from a “friend” showed unmistakable silver eyes and a trademark horrendous dye job.

Ben threw the newspaper in the nearest trash bin.

---

The Playa's apartment sat as still as it had in all the time Ben had stayed there; the eerie quiet of the rooms even more noticeable with the lack of the Playa’s presence.

The lack of Brynden’s presence.

Ben exhaled shakily and sat back on the worn leather couch. He shook his head and took in the empty living room, ran his eyes over the box TV and the cracks in the walls and the books-

One was missing from the shelf. The others had slipped down in its absence. Ben found the missing text in the kitchenette, bookmarked and already gathering dust.

On the bookmarked page, a passage from a poem was highlighted in neon yellow.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.